#I had so many thoughts about them while watching this show

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 3

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering.i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.9k

(Extra special shout out to @nitaekook for beta reading and holding my hand through this fic 😂❤️)

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Master List

“Where do you want these plates to go, my dear?” Jade asks from across the kitchen. 

You glance up at her from your spot on the brand new couch that was just delivered to the new apartment that morning. You’re sitting cross legged unpacking a box of the few things that you had brought over from the old apartment. In the kitchen, your best friend Jade (who is also Arthur’s girlfriend of about a year thanks to your meddling) stands holding up one of the new plates that you bought with her yesterday. 

“Wherever there’s room.” You say with a shrug, not really caring where the plates go because everything feels weird.

The apartment is pristine with its gorgeous hardwood flooring that Charles had refinished before you moved in, floor to ceiling windows that face out towards the water, and that new house smell that is totally unfamiliar and a little unnerving. You should be happy, shouldn’t you? Finally being free of the stifling apartment that you had shared with Lando should fill you with so much optimism and a sense of relief, shouldn’t it? But that’s not the case. Not even close. You’re scared and nervous and just the thought of deciding where those plates should go seems like the heaviest question you've ever been asked.

 Simply picking out the plates yesterday with Jade had been an ordeal and you had needed to take several moments to yourself while shopping. You liked your old plates that you had bought with Lando the week you moved in with him but at the same time, the thought of taking those to your new apartment was more painful than leaving them behind.

Jade must notice your anxiety because as soon as she finishes putting the plates and bowls in whatever cabinet that suits her fancy, she comes over to sit next to you on the couch. When she wraps her arm around your shoulders you melt into her in a desperate attempt to stop a fresh flood of tears from falling. It seems as if all you’ve done since leaving the old apartment was cry and if you’re not crying, you’re barely fighting off an incoming panic attack and jumping with every ding of your phone. 

“What’s going on, my love?” Her voice is gentle, like she’s talking to an injured animal that she doesn’t want to spook. It makes you feel pathetic, helpless, and angry for how much Lando has damaged you when he should have been loving you. 

You’ve known Jade for years now and she’s always been one of your closest friends. It was Jade that had been the first of your friend group to pull you aside almost a year ago to ask you if you were truly happy with Lando. She had seen the light dim in your eyes as your relationship with him progressed and watching you lose your spark had scared her. When you had told her the morning after your art show last month that you had finally decided to leave Lando, it had been so hard for her to tamp down her excitement that you had finally worked up the courage to leave him. 

“I should be happy, right?” You ask, voice cracking a bit with the heavy weight of what closing the door on the apartment for the very last time had done to you that morning. “I mean, I know I’ve been miserable for…” You scoff, “a really long time so shouldn’t I feel something other than heartbreakingly sad?” 

Jade tips her head so it rests on your shoulder, a humming sound playing at the back of her throat. “You’ve been with him for a long time, of course you’re going to be heartbroken. Youu’re doing the right thing though, I promise you. He couldn’t even stop playing that stupid video game long enough to support you last month!” 

You nod, memory flickering back to the fight in the hallway in front of Max. You hadn’t heard much from him in the weeks since that night aside from a few texts here and there and you had expected that. He probably was mortified at how you had behaved, embarrassed for you that you had allowed yourself to be treated that way in front him.

You wouldn’t have blamed him if he thought you were a weak little girl who deserved the treatment Lando doled out to you. It was the only way you could rationalize his silence. Seeing how far you’d fallen, how much you’d changed, had obviously had an effect on Max and he had decided he’d seen enough. It didn’t surprise you and you didn’t blame him. Jade was one of your only remaining friends and losing yet another person you trusted and valued in your life was just another thing Lando had taken from you. 

“I’m just so glad you finally are taking your power back, love. I know it feels all wrong right now but when you go from the chaos that you’ve been living in for so long, I’m sure the calm of this apartment feels wrong. You’ll get used to it. It might take some time but you’ll get used to it.” 

Your head swivels around to look your best friend and you search her face for any sign of her lying to you. You desperately want to believe she’s right, that you’re making the right choice. You know you are, deep down in your soul, but you’ve been with Lando for so long and have spent so many nights listening to him rant and rave about how he’s the only one who could ever deal with your dramatics that you wonder if Jade is wrong and Lando is the one who’s been right all along. You don’t voice the doubts though, knowing that those kinds of things are something that you should probably keep to yourself. So instead of voicing all of the fears that are bouncing around in your chest, making it feel heavy and tight with the pressure of doing something that absolutely terrifies you, you just nod and lean further into Jade’s shoulder.

 “I know.” You whisper, staring out over the open living room that is littered with small boxes and suitcases. 

With the help of your brothers and Jade, you had started moving your things out slowly while Lando had been otherwise distracted. Just a small box of clothes and trinkets here and there, over the last month while Charles had the apartment renovated and cleaned. When it was finally ready last week, you had begun looking for furniture and making final plans. 

The timing had worked out perfectly, with the apartment finally being finished perfectly aligning with a weeklong trip Lando had planned to go to Woking to spend time in the sim at the MTC. He rarely bothered you during these working trips, hell he barely bothered you during any of this trips, but his work trips were different, so you knew you’d have a solid week to get everything that mattered to you out of the apartment before he would be any wiser. 

“He’s going to be so mad when he comes home and my things are gone.” You murmur, staring down at your phone which hadn’t received so much as a text message from him in almost 48 hours. 

You hadn’t bothered telling Lando you were leaving, that you were done with him. You shied away form confrontation on even the best of days so telling the man that you’d spent the last three years building a life together that you were leaving him was terrifying. When you had started moving small boxes out while Lando was still in town, you had half expected him to notice but that had never been a problem. He hadn’t even noticed you leaving on several occasions with boxes of your books or suitcases of clothes. 

A larger part of you had another reason for not telling him, though. You knew that if you told him before you were fully moved out he’d try to get you to stay. He’d try to convince you that things would get better, that this time would be different. All the things that he’s said before when you spent the night crying over his neglect. And you knew you’d fall for it. You knew you’d go running back to him if you didn’t get out before he found out. Lando was persistent and an expert manipulator, you knew that and you still fell for it over and over again so this time you were trying to give yourself the chance to put yourself first and not fall back into his trap. 

“He’s going to learn his lesson when he comes home and finds that you’re finally moving on.” Jade says, tone firm but still gentle. She knows what it’s like to be in a relationship like you have with Lando and when you had called her that morning last month to tell her you were finally leaving him, she had decided she was going to make sure she’d do everything in her power to keep you from going back to him. Getting you unpacked and settled in your new apartment was a huge step forward, one Jade hadn’t been sure you would end up following through with. 

You nod, hoping she’s right but you have a feeling deep in your gut that when Lando gets back into town tomorrow morning he’s not going to see it that way. He’s going to be angry and he’s going to try to get you to come back home to him. 

Looking around your new apartment though, you feel something settle in your bones that you haven’t felt in a very long time. It’s a feeling of attachment to this place. Like if you’re careful and thoughtful, this little apartment tucked away in one of the most exclusive buildings in Monaco could be the best opportunity you have for getting your life back on track. You could heal here, you can feel that in the way the sunlight spills through the windows in the living room, in the way your anxiety allows you to breathe when you stand in the kitchen surrounded by things that you bought yourself, and in in the way you feel when you settle yourself on your brand new bed that will have never shared an intimate moment between you and Lando. Those memories have all been left behind and this new apartment seems like the perfect place for a new beginning. 

As Jade comforts you on your couch, your brother is across town arriving at the Monaco Sports Club where he has a game of padel scheduled with Max that afternoon. He had offered to cancel on him this morning when you spoke to him on the phone, saying that your first full day in the apartment was more important than any padel game, but you had insisted that he keep his game. You had wanted a bit of space to breathe from your brothers, who you knew meant very well and you were very grateful for but sometimes, the three men got to be a little suffocating. So, against his better judgement, Charles had skipped coming over that afternoon in favor of hanging out with Max. 

Max hasn’t stopped thinking about that night last month when he witnessed Lando being needlessly cruel to you. He had every intention of calling Charles that night, had every intention of telling him how the British driver was actually treating you but something had stopped him. He had needed a little more time to process everything that he saw. Max knew that Lando could be an asshole but he never could have guessed that he would have treated you the way he did that night he brought you back to the apartment. It had shaken him and it had taken him a bit to figure out exactly how to approach it with Charles because he knew if Charles really knew how Lando had been treating you, Lando might not make it to the next race alive. Because while everyone knew the relationship was toxic and Lando wasn’t a good boyfriend, no one really realized just how bad it had gotten until Max saw behind the curtain that night of the art show. 

When Max had invited Charles to play padel today, he had finally decided to tell him what had gone down that night. It had taken so long because Max kept waffling between ‘this is none of my business’ and ‘she’s everything’ but when he spotted Charles walking through the padel courts towards him, Max was surprised at how happy Charles looked. 

“You look happy.” Max observes before giving his friend a hug. 

“Oh, it is a very good day, mon ami.” Charles is practically glowing as he smiles over at his long time friend. 

Max lifts a brow, it’s been a while since he’s seen Charles look this optimistic and he wonders if it has something to do with you. 

As if Charles reads his mind, he continues, “We finally got the apartment finished and as of this morning, she’s fully left that piece of garbage.” A smug smile plays at the corner of the Ferrari driver’s mouth. 

The relief that washes over Max is surprising. He hadn’t realized how truly worried he was for your well being until that moment. The guilt that sets in though has his chest aching. How could he have gone so long without saying something to someone about what he had seen that night? Max carefully weighs his decision that he had been so set on just moments before. If you’ve already left Lando and are settling into your apartment, does Charles really need to know what happened that night? It would only cause more drama and Max knew that more drama and anxiety was the last thing you needed. 

In a split second decision that he knows could come back to haunt him, Max decides to keep quiet for now. 

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day.” With a genuine grin, Max bounces the padel ball against the floor. 

Charles beams back at him and Max can almost see the stress that his friend has been carrying around recently melting away from his features. He had known that your brother was worried about you, had known your entire circle, or what was left of it, was worried but now that this was really happening, Max could practically feel the relief rolling off of Charles in waves. 

“You’re telling me.” Charles mutters before walking to the other side of the court to get the game started. 

Max hadn’t meant to end up in your old neighborhood, truly he hadn’t. He had been on a run the morning after playing padel for a few hours with Charles when he passed the bakery that was a few blocks from your old apartment. He hadn’t meant to come this far but the pressures of the season were starting to get to him as they usually did around this time of year and he had needed extra time to clear his head. The fact that he couldn’t seem to get you off his mind either plagued him the entire run too. The way you had felt pressed against his side as he walked you home that night last month, the way your cheeks flamed with humiliation as Lando had laid into you in front of him when he walked you to your door, everything about you seemed to be invading his thoughts and it worried him. 

It worried him because he couldn’t let you get under his skin like this. He knew it was a dangerous game he was playing, knowing what you’ve been through and allowing himself to wander down that road. He was just happy you were safe now and hopefully you would start to get that spark back that he knew you still had in you. Everything else would have to wait. 

So when he passed the bakery you had pointed out as your favorite the night he had walked you home, he couldn’t help but follow his feet inside. The smells of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries washed over his senses as the bell above the wooden door jingled, announcing his arrival. He knew exactly what he was looking for before the woman behind the counter even asked and before he was able to second guess his decision, Max was walking out of the bakery moments later with half a dozen of what he knew were your favorite almond croissants. 

A housewarming gift, he told himself. Because what other way should Max welcome his newest neighbor to the building where he had lived for the last two years? He knew these were your favorites and if he had to guess, wandering back into your old neighborhood just for some carbs was probably at the bottom of your ‘to do’ list right now, even if they were heavenly pieces of baked bread and sweet almond filling. 

While Max made his way back across town, laden down with a large pink bakery box, you were just getting out of bed and starting your day. Anxiety, a feeling that seemed to be your constant companion lately, sits heavy on your shoulders as you move around the new apartment. The quiet hush that blankets the small space is different than the stifling silence you're used to in your apartment with Lando. It was unnerving to say the least but if you allowed yourself to pause for even just a moment, you could almost feel your soul breathing a sigh of relief. 

That wash of contentment is short lived though when a knock at your front door sends your heart rate spiking through the roof. You know that Lando was going to be home today but didn't know what time. It didn’t even cross your mind that there was no way it was him outside your door because he simply didn’t know where you had moved to but just the thought of someone who you weren’t expecting waiting for you and the possibility that it could be your now ex-boyfriend had you spiraling.��

Reaching for your phone, you pull up the security system app that Charles had insisted you get installed, despite the fact that this was a very well secured building with its own doorman downstairs 24/7. The person standing outside your door has confusion knitting your brow together. 

Pancake ingredients forgotten, you pad towards the door shuffling through various emotions: relief that it isn’t Lando waiting for you on the other side, apprehension about seeing the person that was patiently waiting in the hallway for you, and a bit of relief that you hadn’t lost this person like you thought you might have. 

“Max, what a pleasant surprise.” You murmur when you swing the door open. 

In front of you, the Dutch driver is dressed for a workout in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, his blond hair covered in a backwards baseball cap. You’re surprised at the shimmer of pleasure that works its way up your spine when he smiles at you but quickly squash the feeling, remembering the pity on his face as Lando had yelled at you that night he walked you home. 

“I was on a run this morning and remembered you saying this bakery was your favorite. I thought I’d bring you some almond croissants as a sort of ‘welcome to the building’ present.” 

Warmth spreads through your belly at the gesture and you hold the door open to welcome Max into the apartment. “Welcome to the building?” You ask, confused. 

Max grins back at you, rubbing at the back of his neck as he follows you to the kitchen. “I live up in the penthouse. I moved in about two years ago.”

Surprise flickers across your face. When you started dating Lando, your friendship with Max had grown distant so it shouldn’t shock you that you didn’t even know where your friend lived. “Oh, I didn’t realize.” You whisper, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. 

Max watches you bustle around the kitchen, decidedly avoiding eye contact with him. For a few moments he just observes you, trying to decide if he should leave or push. Charles had mentioned yesterday that you were nervous about living alone and Max wanted to make sure that you were okay. He knew he should probably leave you alone to continue to settle it, with it being only your second day in the apartment alone, but there was something keeping him rooted to the spot where he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

 “Are the almond ones still your favorite?” He asks, shattering the silence that had settled over the room. He knows you’re easily spooked now and Max desperately wants you to be comfortable about him. Maybe if he distracts you from whatever storm is brewing in your head, you’ll open up a bit. 

His patience is rewarded with the first unguarded smile he’s seen from you in a long time. “I can’t believe you remembered.” You laugh, reaching for one of the croissants in the open box. 

“You used to put these things away like nobody’s business when we were younger.” 

The blush that creeps across your cheeks has Max gripping the edge of the counter. The two of you fall into a comfortable conversation of safe topics, mostly about your new apartment and how Max’s cats are doing. You like this, the way you feel around him but you can almost feel your body bracing for the other shoe to fall. You keep waiting to have something stupid slip out of your mouth, causing Max to berate or make fun of you. 

Much to your surprise it never happens though and you spend the next hour talking through memories of when Charles and Max were fighting it out on the karting tracks when you were younger. Max remembered you well from those days, how you would beg to tag along with him and Charles and the older boys. 

The sun sits high in the sky when your phone start buzzing loudly on the counter. At first you ignore it, too lost in the conversation you and Max are having, the way he is so attentive to everything you have to say and how he asks you questions like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. You don’t want the attention he’s giving you to end but when your phone starts buzzing for the fifth time in a row, you get up off the couch to retrieve it. It was probably just Charles checking on you, you hand’t heard from him all day after all. 

Your heart sinks and your stomach churns when you see the caller ID though. “Fuck.” The whisper that tumbles off of your lips is broken and harsh, causing Max’s head to snap towards where you’re leaning over the counter, forearms braced on either side of your phone. 

“Everything okay?” Max gets up off the couch to join you in the kitchen, concerned over the way you’ve suddenly gone white as a sheet as you stare down at your phone like it’s about to reach up and strangle you right there in the middle of the room. 

In the couple of hours that you had spent catching up with Max, you had completely forgot that Lando was due to get home soon. “I guess Lando has discovered I’m gone.” The way your voice shakes has Max’s heart squeezing. 

“He doesn’t know you moved out?” 

“Well he does now.” You quip, nervous chuckle falling from your lips. The text messages came in first, it looked like. Nearly a dozen of them and as you scroll through the messages, your face heats. Of course this is going to happen with Max here. Why is he always a witness to your humiliation?

Where are you? Why is the closet half empty, where are all your clothes? Baby, why is your treadmill gone? And your Peloton?  Where the FUCK are you??? ANSWER ME NOW WHERE ARE YOU??? DID YOU LEAVE ME THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY YOU’RE DOING THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE NOW COWARD

Shortly after the messages stop, the calls start. You stare down at the phone as Max watches as call after call comes through. 

“You don’t have to answer him.” Max murmurs, coming to stand right next to you. You have to resist the urge to lean into his warmth, to collapse against the quiet strength that rolls off of him in waves.

“It’s only going to get worse if I don’t.” 

“Does he know where you are?” 

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill over. Why was this all happening right now? You knew you were safe, that he had no idea where you had moved to but just the thought of being in the same city as him when he was this angry is enough to have the panic threatening to strangle the breath straight out of your lungs. 

“Then you’re safe. He wouldn’t ever do anything to put his career in danger, Dovie.” 

You have to laugh at the statement because it’s so true. Lando would never do anything to put his career on the line. He’d do whatever it took to keep you in line under his thumb, no matter how mean he had to be to control you but when it came to his career? His first love? He’d never do anything to put his seat in question and you knew that. You had always come second to racing and what Max said was the total truth. 

Max watches you shrink into yourself as the calls continue to come in, one after another, and he knows he has to do something. He glances at the time and instantly gets an idea. “I was supposed to go to dinner with Danny in an hour. What if you leave the phone here for the night and come to dinner with me?” He pauses, seeing the panic flicker across your face. “With us. Come to dinner with us.” He corrects quickly. “I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free too? It’s been a while since we’ve all had dinner together.” 

Your eyes drop down to the phone, now quiet for the moment, and weigh your options. You know you’re not ready to talk to Lando but the fact that you’re ignoring him makes you feel like a coward. You’re going to have to speak to him sometime but maybe it was okay if you put if off for a few more days. Dinner out with Max, Daniel, and your brother sounds so appealing but you still hesitate. 

“Come on, Dovie. You can’t spend the whole night starting at the phone. He’s going to keep calling and it’s not good for you to be alone right now.” 

The pain that slices through your heart at the gentle coaxing Max’s tone takes on is almost unbearable. Why is he always the one to see you laid so bare, so vulnerable? 

“How did I let this happen, Max?” Your voice breaks, soft and uncertain as you turn into Max’s waiting frame. Without hesitation, Max’s arms circle around you and he pulls you deeper into his chest. Something settles in him then, almost like he’s relieved you’ve allowed him in. The way you shake while he holds you has his chest aching and he’d really like to give the McLaren driver a piece of his fucking mind right about then, but he knows that’s going to have to wait for now. You’re much more important. 

“You were in love, schatje and that’s okay. You trusted him and he broke that trust. It’s not a reflection of you, sweet girl, its a reflection of him. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

You sob quietly into his chest, soaking his t-shirt through with your tears as the dam finally breaks. Humiliation threatens to drag you under but you allow Max’s words to resonate through you. They soften the sharp edges of your heartache and regret, knowing that someone like Max, who you respect and have known for nearly your entire life, doesn’t think this entire thing is your fault. You sink into his warmth, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, allowing his steady breath to ground you. 

Max just stands there, a quiet pillar of strength that he can feel you desperately need right now. Hr murmurs quiet reassurances to you as you cry against him, slowly rocking you back and forth. “Come on,” Max coos, lips brushing against the top of your head. “Go take a shower and then lets go to dinner. I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free. You haven’t seen Danny in ages, right? It’ll be good to get out.” 

Dragging in a deep breath, you hold the air in your lungs until they pinch. “Okay.” 

With one last look at your phone, you turn away and walk down the hallway, leaving Max starting at your phone which has finally gone quiet. For several moments, Max just stands at the counter in the kitchen, unable to move. Relief floods his veins when he hears the shower start though and he knows that you’re finally making a small step towards getting out from under Lando’s control.

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[woso-story]

Bad Driver

Alexia Putellas x Reader

It was a crisp Friday evening, and the anticipation of date night had you buzzing with excitement. Alexia, your longtime girlfriend and the love of your life, was getting ready in the bedroom while you paced the living room. The plan was to drive to your favorite restaurant, where you’d made reservations days in advance. Usually, Alexia drove her sleek Cupra, but tonight, you felt a spark of rebellion—you wanted to drive for once.

When Alexia emerged, radiant in a fitted blazer and her signature confidence, you smiled and said, "Babe, I’ll drive tonight."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You? Drive?" she asked, her tone light but her expression anything but.

“Yes, me. Why not? You always drive. Let me take the wheel this time,” you replied, grinning.

But Alexia didn’t hand over the keys. Instead, she shook her head with a nervous laugh. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll drive.”

Confused, you stepped closer. "Why not? It’s not like I’m a bad driver or anything."

She hesitated, her gaze darting away. "It’s not that. I just… prefer to drive myself, that’s all."

Her response only deepened your suspicion. You crossed your arms and gave her a pointed look. “Alexia, you’re a terrible liar. Just tell me the truth.”

Alexia sighed, running a hand through her hair. After a long pause, she finally muttered, barely above a whisper, “I don’t think you’re the best driver.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

She winced, clearly regretting her words. "It’s not a big deal! It’s just… every time you drive, I get a little nervous."

“Nervous?” you echoed, bewildered. “Why would you be nervous? I’m a good driver."

Alexia bit her lip, as if debating whether to continue. Finally, she said, “Well, you’re often over the speed limit. And you’re late on the brakes… like, really late. Sometimes I think we’re going to hit the car in front of us. Oh, and there was that time you drove over the curb and scratched my rims. Twice.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “You noticed that?”

She gave you a sheepish smile. “I… might have had them repaired. Twice.”

Her confession hit you hard. You couldn’t believe you’d never noticed how nervous she felt. The thought that she didn’t trust you to drive her car made your heart sink. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Alexia said softly, stepping closer. “You’re amazing at so many things, mi princesa. Just… maybe not driving.”

Her attempt to lighten the mood didn’t land. You felt embarrassed and hurt, retreating into silence. The drive to the restaurant was quiet, the usual easy conversation replaced by an awkward tension. Even dinner felt different, with you picking at your food and Alexia watching you with worried eyes.

---

The dimly lit restaurant, usually your haven of laughter and love, felt muted. Alexia’s gentle attempts to pull you out of your shell failed to break through. Her jokes felt forced, and her compliments only deepened your self-consciousness. As dessert arrived, Alexia reached across the table to take your hand. "I’m sorry if I upset you. That wasn’t my intention."

You nodded, offering a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "I know. It’s just… hard to hear."

As you left the restaurant, Alexia stopped you by her car. “Here,” she said, holding out the keys.

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“You’re driving us home,” she said, her tone firm.

You shook your head. “No way. I’m not doing it now."

“I had a little too much to drink,” she countered, giving you a small smile. “It’s up to you now.”

You hesitated, suddenly suspicious. “Was this your plan all along? Get me to drive so you can complain about how bad I am?”

Alexia laughed, but her expression softened. “No, I just want to show you that I trust you. You’ve got this.”

With a sigh, you took the keys and got into the driver’s seat. The drive home was smooth, largely because you were hyper-focused on every move—checking mirrors, braking early, and staying well under the speed limit. Alexia’s amused glances didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re doing great,” she said, her voice full of warmth.

For the first time that evening, you felt a flicker of pride. That is, until you reached the garage of your apartment complex. As you turned the corner, Alexia shouted, “Careful!” but it was too late. The screeching sound of metal against concrete filled the air.

Your heart sank as you parked and got out to inspect the damage. Sure enough, the rim was scratched—again. Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned to Alexia. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for the repair this time.”

Alexia walked over and pulled you into a comforting hug. “It’s okay, mi amor. It’s just a rim.”

“But I ruined it… again,” you mumbled into her chest, tears streaming down your face.

“Shh,” she soothed, stroking your hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re perfect to me, rims and all.”

---

Back in the apartment, Alexia made you tea and held you close on the couch. Slowly, your embarrassment faded. She didn’t try to fix the situation with words; instead, her steady presence spoke volumes. The warmth of her embrace and the rhythm of her heartbeat calmed you.

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion.

She kissed the top of your head. “Always. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, snuggling into her.

After a few minutes of silence, a laugh escaped you. Alexia tilted her head, curious. “What’s so funny?”

“I always wondered why you never let me drive,” you said, grinning. “Now I know.”

She chuckled, pulling you closer. “You’re the perfect passenger princess, mi amor. Let me drive you wherever you want to go.”

Smiling, you nestled into her embrace, the tension of the evening finally dissolving. With Alexia, you knew you were safe—in love, in life, and yes, even in the passenger seat.

[metaphorfordeath]

Anti-Psychotic

A person living with schizophrenia finds that their delusions may have more basis in reality than they thought. Originally published in the Fall/Winter II issue of Diet Milk Magazine, available here. Content warnings for depiction of psychosis, violence, ableist language.

No one is watching me.

Julie has me write that down at our session. She never listens to me. She says, it can be comforting to realize that people don’t think of you as much as you think they do. I know this already. She asks, what evidence do you have that you are being watched? I say there isn’t any. Just a feeling. She writes something down, and asks about my meds again. 

So fucking patronizing. Of course I take them. I have taken mine like clockwork, every day, for five years. Maybe I missed a few days, but who doesn’t forget sometimes. My meds are cleat spikes jabbing into the earth. Helping me keep my footing. Making sure I don’t slip.

Last week I started getting the prickle again. Like fingers up my back. Someone standing behind me, breathing. I live alone. When I felt it, I wasn’t scared at first. These things happen sometimes. I’ve been around the block. The prickle and I are old friends, practically. When it finds me, I have ways to forget it. 

I drew the blinds, which helped a bit. I had a drink—nobody's perfect—but the prickle didn’t dull. So I peeked through the shades at the street below. Normal street stuff. The sun was setting, painting the world in shades of fire. Cars went by, all the usuals. Some kids were yelling in a driveway. A wasp tapped at my window, wiggling its feelers at me. No obvious source for the prickle. So, probably nothing. For the rest of the evening I puttered, read my book, ate some frozen nothing heated in the microwave, and took my meds. The prickle was temporary, I told myself as I lay down to sleep, the usual fog settling over me in a cool, clammy layer. No one was watching me. No one ever is.

That was a week ago. It’s only gotten worse since then. The prickle turned into a terrified stomach ache that kept me up for nights and nights. I called in sick to group, told Cheryl the caseworker that I have the flu. She sounded alarmed, but she’s only worried because of what happened to Devin.

Devin was like me: good at meds, good at therapy. We were friends, in a psycho kind of way. A few weeks ago, Devin started to get bad. Stopped showing up to group, didn’t even call. I haven’t seen him in a while, even when I went looking for him in his usual bad places. I miss him. I told Cheryl not to worry. I’m steady, just sick. I’ll see her again soon. 

I keep taking my meds, but they aren’t helping like they should. The fog I count on to sleep is thin, or missing. Something scrabbles at my skin from underneath, and I keep catching myself scratching little bits off of me. When I lay down, a low, neutral voice whispers nonsense at me through the pillow I clamp over my head. I can’t shower; that’s when the prickle gets stronger. Someone standing on the other side of the shower curtain, someone looking down at me through the water stain on the ceiling. I hiss and babble out loud just to hear myself talk, to shut up the voices that aren’t mine. I get sicker by the day.

By now I haven’t been outside in over a week, but my meds are ready to pick up. I don’t want to miss a dose, so I put on shoes and the big jacket that makes me feel safe, and I go outside. Birds leer at me from the tops of buildings. Walking in the opposite direction, an old lady frowns at me.

“Hmph, same to you,” she snaps.

My stomach lurches, but I don’t say anything, just keep walking. I hadn’t spoken. Had I? 

The drug store is brightly lit. It hurts to be inside. Too many things to look at. Faces on packaging look strange now. Confrontational. Interrogative. But at least they look like faces. When I look at anyone real, their features shift. Static snow eats at the air around their heads in a halo. It frightens me, so I keep my eyes on my shoes. The pharmacy tech who’s always there gets the packet for me, rings it up.

“Any questions about your medication?” he asks. I shake my head, pay with a card. He has glasses that give his face a sort of stability, so I look at it. His eyes are brown, beard gray, no hair on his head. He smiles at me. “Have a nice day, miss.”

“You too,” I mutter.

And then I go home, have to stop myself from running for safety. The walk is twenty minutes each way; harrowing, the passing cars huge and hungry, huffing and snorting at me. The prickle is more than a prickle by now. It feels like someone is pulling out the hairs on the back of my neck, one by one. My heart thuds against my ribs so hard that I’m afraid it will burst out, plop on the sidewalk and keep throbbing without me. The paper bag with my pills turns damp and tattered in my sweaty hand. 

And getting home doesn’t even help this time.

Julie says too much TV can be a trigger for me, but I start leaving it on all the time. Noise beats silence, any day. No empty spaces that need filling. I can’t watch sitcoms or anything fictional, so I tune it to the news. The news is always. Steady, real, factual. There’s a story about a body they found by the freeway. Pushed out of a moving car. No one knows or cares who it was. There’s a picture of the scene, taped up yellow and covered in those little numbers that say where a bit of evidence is. A tattered jacket lays in a ditch, dark with blood. 

I stand and race to the bathroom, cool porcelain against my hands, bile and nothing coming up as sweat pours down my back. My head pounds, edges of my vision sparkling. I can only see the jacket. Not dirty or bloody or ruined but the way it used to look. Devin’s jacket.

Something is horribly wrong. Men-in-black wrong. The-end-is-nigh wrong. 

The prickle wasn’t imagination. It was intuition. 

Someone got Devin. Who else did they get before him?

---

The next week, I force myself to go to group. I need to see faces. See who else is there, or not. Cheryl picks me up for these, since I don’t drive. I’m sicker than I can remember being, and try to remember to ask Julie about my dose on Tuesday. I sit silently in the passenger seat, feeling Cheryl’s eyes on me. Caseworkers all have the same eyes.

“Feeling alright today, X?” 

My name isn’t the name she calls me. You don’t need to know it.

“Fine,” I say, pinching my hands between my knees. They shake if I don’t. “Still getting over that flu.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she says. Her sedan has beige fabric seats. The passenger seat is dark, stained with sweat and whatever else from all the people she’s ferried around. A vanilla air freshener dangles from the rear view mirror.

Someone shouts in my ear, so close I feel a little blast of hot breath on my neck, and I flinch. Cheryl looks at me suddenly.

“Everything okay?”

She didn’t hear that. “Yeah. Sorry. Weird itch.”

“Hmm.” 

Group is fine. It’s usually fine. I don’t say much this time, just look around at everyone in their folding chairs. Their faces are wrong. It makes me nauseous to look, but I look anyway. I need to see who isn’t here.

There are no empty chairs, but there are fewer. One or two down from usual. All the other regulars are here, picking at their skin or looking at the clock or chewing their hair. I glance across the room and for a second I think I see Devin, sitting in his old coat. But when I look again, it’s just Tom. I almost hoped.

When it’s over, there’s bad coffee to drink. I suck on a red straw and let the bitter taste anchor me to my tongue. I inhabit my body, touch my fingers to the side of my face to know that it and my fingers exist. Sufficiently convinced of my realness, I go to Amber, our de facto leader.

She’s drinking water from a bottle with cucumber slices in it, cloudy with pulp and seeds. Ectoplasmic. It makes my stomach turn.

“Amber,” I say. My voice feels far away. She looks at me, expectant. “I missed last week. Have you seen Greg, or Mariah?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t. Greg was here last week, but I haven’t seen Mariah since like, last month. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

A crinkle appears between her eyebrows. I focus on that, since the rest of her features won’t stay put. “You’re worried because of what happened to Devin?”

“I think Devin is dead.” There is a sudden hush as other people in my vicinity overhear. “I saw his jacket. On the news.”

Cheryl appears beside me. “X, would you like to talk in the hallway?” 

She pulls me out before I can answer. “Have you been feeling alright?” she asks again. “Taking your medication?”

“Yes,” I say, a little forcefully. She clicks her tongue.

“Really? Because if you need to move up your next appointment, I can make some arrangements for you.”

Despite the fact that I do want to move my appointment up, her tone hits a button in my brain and my face turns red. “No,” I say. “I’ll wait until the next one. I’m fine. I just need to know what’s happening.” A rancid taste creeps up the back of my throat. “Where are people going?”

“Honey, everyone’s here that needs to be here.”

“No—that’s not right. I need to know.” 

I can tell from the way she moves that she thinks I’m getting agitated. She doesn’t understand what I’m saying. “People call in sick sometimes. You did, just last week. Mariah was having issues sticking with the program, so we’re working something out. No one’s gone.”

“Devin is gone. Devin is dead. He’s dead and no one knows it.”

Cheryl comes closer, her voice so low and venomous that it starts to meld with the others. “I’m going to give Dr. Bern a call and try to get you in with her sooner than Tuesday. If you can’t keep up with your regimen, we’ll have to consider another in-patient stay.”

Anger chokes me until my vision goes white. “Okay,” is all I can manage. I have some unsavory thoughts, which I won’t repeat to you now.

“Good,” says Cheryl, holding my leash. “Let’s get you home.”

I don’t sleep. I don’t even try. Someone is watching me. I think about Devin, the last time we spoke before he was gone. He got paranoid, too. He jabbered sometimes, when we would see each other. The same face, he said, with glass eyes. Looking at him. Following him. He said his pills were replaced, his furniture moved, nothing looked the same as he’d left it. No one listens to me, he said. I’m scared, he said. I’m scared of what will happen next.

“I’m scared, too,” I say to no one. A chorus laughs at me. 

---

“So,” says Julie. “Cheryl told me you’ve been having some trouble sticking to your medication.”

“I stick to it,” I say, and set the pill bottle on the desk in front of her. “Count them and tell me I’m not.”

She doesn’t move to count them. I’d hoped at least that she would humor me. “It sounds like some of your persecutory thoughts are returning. Tell me about what you’re worried about.”

“I saw on the news that they found someone’s body in a ditch off the interstate. They showed pictures. I think the body was Devin.”

“Devin from your group?” I nod. “We actually just heard from him last week. His brother answered when we called his phone. Devin is currently in a private rehabilitation clinic in Cincinnati. He’s alright, X.”

A numb feeling falls over me all at once, like a sheet. Something crawls up my thigh and disappears into a deep hole in my flesh. “Oh.��

“Amber talked to us, too. She said you asked her about Greg and Mariah’s absences this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I followed up on those for you, too. Greg had an accident at home and was in the emergency room during your meeting time this week. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to reach Mariah personally, but her father informed me over the phone that her family has pulled her out of the program. She won’t be returning.” Julie leans across her desk. “X, can you please look at me?”

I look at her. Her face is twisted, like a mask, papier mâché, drooping strips of plaster bandage. The static threatens to consume her, and me.

“I’m going to increase your dose to eighty milligrams. For now you can take two of what you have at the usual time, but I’m sending in a new prescription to the pharmacy.” She scrawls something on a pad at hand, and I take the opportunity to look away. “I’ll see you again this time next week, okay? And if anything’s the matter, you can call the nurse’s hotline. We’ll take care of you.” She hands me the script. 

“Thank you,” I say, and then someone brings me home. I am silent for the drive. Thinking.

Wasn’t Devin an only child?

I start doubling my dose. The fog doesn’t come. The prickle intensifies into ceaseless paranoia. I check the window locks three times a day to make sure, even though I live on the third floor. Chair under the doorknob, empty bottles stacked on it so I’ll hear if someone comes. I can’t stop thinking about Devin, and the others. Were they all really fine? Was this just a breakthrough-breakdown, pills ceasing their function and leaving me alone, spiraling? 

I hadn’t tried calling Devin in weeks. He didn’t pick up the first few times, and anyone in that state doesn’t usually want to talk anyhow. But Julie said someone answered when they called. Maybe they would answer for me.

The phone buzzes. Surging forward and receding, like a tide. Devin could be there on the other end. Getting better. Being cared for. I close my eyes and wait to hear his voicemail, or something else.

Click. “Hello?”

The voice startles me so much I can’t speak. A stranger.

“Hello?” says the phone. “Who is this?”

“Um,” I say suddenly, “Devin?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the voice says. “Devin isn’t here right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m—his friend. X,” I clarify. My voice is not of me. “Can I talk to him soon?”

“No, unfortunately he can’t talk. But I’ll let him know you called, he’ll be happy to hear people are checking up on him.”

“What’s—who are you?”

“I’m Eric, Devin’s brother. I’m taking good care of him, miss. Have a nice day.” 

The call ends. Something in my stomach shrivels. I run to the bathroom, but there’s nothing to bring up. I don’t know why that voice scared me so much. Why had I thought Devin was an only child? He hadn’t mentioned his family—maybe I’d just assumed, or forgotten if he’d said. Of course he had a brother. He was alright. They all were, now.

---

Days pass. Bugs make their homes in me. My medication runs out, the new pills ready for pickup. I’d rather die than set foot outside. But I need my stability. I steel myself to leave, and exit my apartment into the world. 

Everyone looks at me. They all want to hurt me. A car drives slowly past me and I try not to look at the people inside. My head hurts. It’s hard to see where I’m going, but I go.

The drug store is bigger than it was last time. Brighter. Angrier. People avoid me as I shuffle towards the pharmacy counter. The pharmacist who’s always there smiles at me again.

“Do you have any questions about your medication?”

I shake my head, fumbling for my card. He’s staring at me through his glasses.

“Do you need me to call someone for you?”

His voice makes me want to puke. I shake my head again, take the pills and make for the door. A crowd of voices shout at me as I stagger out into the air. I miss the way things were. My cleats don’t fit anymore. I tear the bag open, pop the lid off the bottle and shake a pill into my mouth, force it down dry and sticky and hope it does its job. My mouth is sweet where it lingered. It didn’t used to be so sweet.

There is a dull shock of understanding that blooms at the edge of my mind. The prickle rises on the back of my neck, and I look over my shoulder again. The pharmacist is looking at me from his position behind the counter. His face ringed in static. He waves at me. And I take off running.

There is no one I can call. No one who will listen. There are only doors that will slam in my face, white speckle tile and fluorescent lights and needles. He knows that. He knew it for Devin, too. He knew it for the rest of them. The wind in my face feels like fingers grasping at me, tugging at my hair, slowing me down. I race home, up the stairs and lock the door, brace it with furniture and then I sit on the floor and cry and cry. They’re laughing at me. Trading whispers. Look how stupid. Look how gullible. Go on and cry, crybaby. 

So I do. It’s all I have left.

The next time it’s group, I don’t come to the door. Cheryl calls me, but I don’t answer. There will be a wellness check if I don’t come. I want them to, now. When her calls finally stop piling up, I wait fifteen minutes, then step outside. I leave my door open, leave what I can to show that I am gone. I leave the pills out, and the script. Crush a few with my heel for good measure. I hope they can put the pieces together.

It’s dark, cool. It reminds me of the fog, makes me wish I could sleep. Eyes follow me through the evening. Headlights burn me as cars move past. I walk slowly in my big jacket, letting myself be watched. Letting the prickle come up my neck, creep over my scalp, trickle down over my face until it covers me in a thin layer and I prickle all over. The prickle and I are old friends. It tells me when to be afraid.

Then there are headlights at my back that don’t go away. The growl of an engine crashes into me. I stop walking, and someone gets out. I don’t turn to look. I can’t stand to look at faces anymore. Suddenly, I have a funny thought. Maybe I do have some questions about my medication, after all.

Something whistles through the air above my head, and the world disappears.

When I wake up later, I’m not sure if I have. There are stars. It smells like gasoline, copper and dirt. My jacket is gone. My mouth is gone, too. My hands. You’re caught, someone says in my ear, you let it happen. With my eyes, which I still have, I look across the floor. It hurts to look. There’s blood under me, sticky black. The prickle is gone. I discovered its source.

I’m alone for a long time. It’s hard to say how much. I realize that there’s a door behind me when it opens. Light falls across the floor, yellow tractor beam coming to take me away. I long to be weightless, but the earth won’t let me. Then the pharmacist who is always there puts his shoe against my face and turns me over. He doesn’t speak. He crouches down and looks into my eyes like he is trying to take something from me. Then he takes the tape off my mouth.

All I do at first is scream. It's all my body knows how to do. He sits and watches me. When I can see his mouth, it’s smiling, and I realize he likes it when I scream. So as soon as I can, I stop. Silence rushes back into the gaps, roaring in my ears.

“Good girl,” he says when I am quiet. His voice is a distorted growl, infrasound, rattling my eardrums. “Aren’t you such a good girl?”

I think about his throat in my teeth. I think about his blood on my face. For a moment it feels like I am lunging for him, jabbing thumbs into soft and fragile places. But he still has my hands, turning numb and purple at the small of my back. So I sit up as much as I can and spit at the floor near his feet. Faster than my eyes can track, he lurches forward. Fist in my hair, hauling me up to hip height.

He looks into my face with his glass eyes. His mouth is monstrous, all his white teeth sharp in a thicket of gray.

“I’ve been watching you,” he says. 

I know this already. There is nothing satisfying in the confirmation of it. 

He is not the man in black I always pictured. He could be anybody.

“Think of this as a favor I’m doing you.”

Then he hits me again. And other things.

When I’m alone, voices chatter in my ears. No one is coming, they say, you are alone. They will not find you. You and the ditch will be friends soon. So you amounted to this—better than nothing, we suppose. I shush them, rock myself against the cement floor and hum and think about grass, and birds. I try not to leave myself room to cry. I don’t want him to have the satisfaction.

A thousand years go by. Outside the room, there are voices. Not any of mine. His, and others. They start loud, and get quiet. His voice goes away completely. Doors open, distant, then closer. Light falls over my body again, and I feel the weightlessness. Real this time. My hands come back to me, but I can’t move them. There are faces, more than I’ve seen in a while. They scare me, but I can’t run, so I try not to look. Except at his. They take me past him, and I look. Through his glasses I see his eyes, still trying to take something from me. He has, by now. But not what he wanted.

I sleep for a long time, and when I wake up, the world is the way I remember it. My feet on the ground, cleats and all, not slipping. When I’m well enough they bring me to identify Devin’s body, since he didn’t really have a brother after all. They find Mariah’s, too. Greg really was in the emergency room, turns out. But there are others. Too many to think of.

Cheryl changes careers afterwards. Probably for the best. I find this out when she drives me to group the first time after I get out of the hospital. She doesn’t look at me much, but when she does, I can see her eyes are different. Not caseworker eyes anymore.

“Lauren is going to be taking over your case starting next week,” she says after a long silence. “So this will be the last time I see you.” I can tell she’s trying not to cry.

“Okay,” I say. 

She never apologizes. No one does. They all say they’re sorry for what happened to me, but that isn’t the same thing. People who don’t listen never think to apologize for it. They think they were listening all along.

Things are mostly the same as before, except I get my pills mailed to me now. And I think about Devin a lot. When I pour myself a drink, I pour one for him too and pretend he’s with me. I don’t have any pictures, so mostly I think about his voice. The last time we ever spoke, he told me, no one listens to me, X. 

What I said then was, I know the feeling, man.

But now I just tell him I’m sorry.

[writingwisterias]

I know you have so many requests but can you whip up a delicious smut where chris and leon take the reader on different dates in a skimpy little skirt every other week and make her sit on their cocks in public?? They're fighting to see who can fill you up and make you squirm in the most deranged places without getting noticed, and the reader is just stuck, cockdrunk in the boys silly little game... 💝

Fuck Yes, I can...I need them both anyway! Sorry it took me a while I again wanted to flesh it out, I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Public Sex, Degradation Kink, Cock warming, Cow girl riding, Soft Dom! Leon, Dom Chris, Praise Kink Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader x Chris Redfield

You got the best of both worlds being in a relationship with them. As they both take different approaches in terms of their affection. It was rare you got to spend time all together and when you did, they were too tired. All of you opted for lazy sex or cuddles as you made them catch up on the movies you have missed. You got all around constant attention and in the grand scheme of things who was going to complain about that? One of them was always home, greeting you with some morning head, nibbles at your thigh and blissful orgasms. Leon always favoured your taste, his cock always spewing his pre cum against the sheets as he feasted upon you. Whilst Chris couldn’t wait to have you clenching around his cock, enjoying the way it split you open. It was perfect.  

Today, Leon was home. You watched him get dressed from where you perched on the bed. The blue shirt hugged his frame perfectly, the sleeves outlining each curve of his bicep. Proof of his endless fighting turning his form into a perfect chiselled statue that you got to look at. With how much you increased his ego over the years you were surprised he didn’t make you pray to it like he was a Greek statue. “Are you ready for our day out princess?” He spoke, watching you from the mirror he was currently in front of. Your pleated skirt fell around your thighs perfectly, just short enough that when you were sat it gave him easier access. The plaid material made his imagination run even more wild with plenty of sick fantasies, his cock twitching just at the thought.  

He had to wait though, he had plans for you today. What you didn’t know was that Chris was back in town. Spending the last few days in the office making sure the reports he needed to do were complete so he could spend more time with the two of you. You will find out soon, during lunch with Leon. “More than ready, I’m just waiting on you” You smirked, your legs kicking out in front of you creating a steady beat against the bed frame as they swung back against it. Leon watched you, the frill socks you had picked out looked perfect with the Mary Jane’s. 

Your style was one of the things he always loved about you. “You always show me up, I want to look like I tried this time” He retorted. You loved his smile and the banter you shared with Leon. The two of you often create bad puns as you walk around together, his one-liners coming out as bad dad jokes. It was something you couldn’t share with Chris, his grumpier more dominant attitude normally scoffed at the idea. Rolling his eyes instead of laughing - though you both swore you’ve seen him attempt to hide a smirk every once in a while. 

“You always look good but you should wear the black leather. You always look good in that one” You smiled, pointing towards the jacket hanging on the back of the door. Leon smiled again, a large toothy one showing off his perfect whites. His hand however moved for the jacket with the white stripes causing you to shake your head. “Why not? It will match your white socks” He commented, despite his apparent protest he still took off the jacket that you recommended. You rolled your eyes, hopping off the edge of the bed to meet him. His hands landed on your hips as he kissed you. The stubble coating his face tickling your cheeks as he began to pepper you with them.

“Enough, we have a reservation don’t we?” You giggled, pulling away to look at his face. Your fingers swiped away at a few strands of his hair away from his face. His hand grasped yours bringing the palm of yours to his lips. They were soft, the pressure light as he smiled against it. “Bossy today are we?” He teased, mumbling against the softness of your skin. Your giggle was cute as always causing the man to break out into a larger grin as he led you out the door. 

The diner as always was fairly busy, the guys favorite spot to eat due to the booths that gave them a small amount of privacy. Leon watched your expression change when you spotted Chris in the usual spot. The smile growing, your eyes lighting up with affection. It was cute. Your skirt lifted slightly as you did an awkward run to him showing off Leon’s favorite lacy thong. Of course you wore his favorite, after all Chris was just a surprise. Chris smirked from over your shoulder as he watched Leon adjust himself during his approach. “Surprise” Chris whispered, nipping at the skin on your neck enjoying how your frame tucked nicely into his. His display bothered the man behind you, despite their mutual love for you, the throple you seemed to act sometimes didn’t exist, only merely two men that fought for your attention and pussy. 

That's why when Chris slid back into the booth, you were tugged onto his lap. “I like the outfit today, sweetie” He whispered in your ear as you settled. His hands squeezed your thighs, inching further towards your covered cunt. The waitresses were used to this, you wouldn’t be surprised if you found out that they both tipped extra so they ignored what was going on. “Thank you, Leon thought it was cute too. He tried to match” You giggled. Chris gave off a low chuckle, lifting his eyes to the man that was opposite the two of you with an unamused look on his face. They ordered food quickly, the drinks leaving rings on the wooden table in front of you as you waited. All whilst this was happening Chris’ fingers now began to explore the dampened fabric of your underwear. He didn’t miss the floral lace design underneath his fingertips, tracing each petal in a teasing motion. 

Florals - that was Leon’s favorite. Irritation began to pulse through his system, his touch becoming possessive as he cupped your pussy. “Lift up a second sweetie” He instructed, stopping your pleasant conversation with Leon. You did as you were told, your obedience to Chris never faltered. You never teased or acted bratty with him - his punishments were far worse than Leon’s. You heard his fly unzip, his thighs bumping against the back of yours as he eased his hardened cock out. He tugged you back on his lap, making sure your thong was pulled to the side. You gasped when his cock slid in with ease, your arousal helping you adjust to his thick length. What Chris lacked in size he gained in girth. “Fuck, So tight” He chuckled as he adjusted his hips making them jolt up inside you. 

Leon smirked at your face, despite his cock not entering you he got the enjoyment of you trying to act casual and continue his conversation. At seeing all of your pretty faces as you did so. “You alright there darling? You haven’t even started to eat yet and you look a little…full” 

Your scowl was cute, the bit in your lip was cuter. Chris jolted his hips again the movements were shallow - not enough to give you the overwhelming pleasure you were used to. It was a slow build up. Your hips began to circle, desperately trying to at least get him to speed up. Hoping your movements would tease him and encourage him to go faster. It was working to your credit, the man had leaned back. His legs now man spread allowing you to have more range of motion. How something he initiated had become your issue to fix was beyond you. 

“No one is paying attention to you being such a cock slut it's okay. Just focus on making us both feel good” Chris whispered in your ear after having noticed your eyes watching the diner full of people. Your brain dissociates causing your movements to falter in case someone was watching. Leon shuffled in his chair, his hand palming himself lightly to get some ease on his cock. “Such a good girl, Now if you just cum we can eat” Chris whispered in your ear. “What about you?” You whimpered back. Even cock drunk you valued their own pleasure above yours, you wouldn’t cum until you knew Chris would. It was mostly the only bratty thing you would do. “You know I won’t miss the opportunity to cum inside you after Leon has had you for weeks. Gotta make sure you remember what I feel like. Now cum” 

Leon’s hard on was gone now, his face was unimpressed as Chris’ words made you cum. He watched your eyes roll back, your teeth tug at your lip to hide your whimpers. So Chris wanted to make it a competition then. Game on. 

It was hard to concentrate on the rest of their conversation and the food you were eating as Chris’ load dripped down your thighs. If you were paying attention to the conversation they were having you would have heard them arguing over where to go next, why Leon despite knowing Chris was going to be here let you wear his favorite underwear. You also didn’t miss the way that despite Chris currently having load dripping out of you his hand was splayed out possessively on your thigh, smudging the cum into your skin. Something Leon also didn’t fail to notice. 

The walk to the next place Leon got more touchy, his hand was around your waist tucking you into his side. His fingers teasing along the waistline of your skirt. He ignored any conversation you and Chris were having, opting to stay silent as he thought about burying his cock inside you – making sure that he gave you enough of his cum that you would forget about Chris’. 

The bar was dark as it always was. Your usual seat was taken, the larger booth that Chris normally scowled anyone away from. Leon didn’t feel like doing that today, instead opting for one of the more exposed tables near the wall. The window, despite being covered in vinyl, still provided minimal coverage. Maybe it was because he was angry or needed to prove a point but his cock was entering you as he tugged you on his lap. Something that happened so fast you barely registered him taking it out. Chris’ brows furrowed when you gasped, your knuckles turning white as Leon made sure you immediately bottomed out on him. His cock was longer, a slight curve to it that you loved so much as it moved against that spongy spot inside you. Of course he knew this. 

The music was louder tonight, any signs of what you were doing were hidden from the volume of the place. Your skirt worked wonders to hide what was going on. “You think I would let Chris just make you forget what I feel like once he’s back. Come on now Darling we both know who fills you up the best” Leon chuckled deeply in your ear. His breath causes you to flinch and jolt on his cock. Leon never needed to do any work, you just needed to squirm enough to do it yourself. He would never instruct you to do it like Chris. No he liked to play on the idea of you believing you are in control. It was more fun that way. 

Your orgasm with Leon was a slow game; he never rushed these things. He held you close making sure his lips or breath teased you, his fingers tickling your thighs and sides as he held a conversation with Chris about the man's latest mission. Your cheeks darkened in colour, the blood rushing to your head as you felt that coil tighten. He smiled as your hips moved on their own. To everyone else it just looked like you were getting comfy, but he could feel it. The way his tip grew deeper, each clench of your walls as you hit a spot you liked. Much like Chris earlier he didn’t do anything. Just sipped on the whiskey that made his head spin. 

“Such a good girl for the both of us today. Maybe we will have to treat you when we get home hmm?” Leon spoke as Chris left for the bathroom. His attention finally fell on you as he nipped at your neck. Hand closest to the wall slipping up your skirt to tease your clit. You both looked passionate, drunk as you made out in the back. No one is paying attention. It spurred you on that all someone had to do was look under the table to see what was happening. The way you rode Leon and his finger grateful circled your sensitive bud in return. 

“Do you like being this naughty? Doing this where everyone can see…me and Chris competing for your cunt. Such a naughty Slut” 

It was too much, his words made you spin. Chris’ chuckle as he made his way back opposite you. You came, your cunt like a vice around Leon as he then came. The thick vein that ran up his cock pulsating inside you as he spewed his load. With Chris’ leftovers still inside you, it began to drip out – making a mess on the front of his trousers. “I always liked the messy ones” Chris chuckled as he handed Leon a few napkins. To at least prevent an embarrassing stain as you would soon leave the bar. 

The volume of their glasses was like a timer, each sip getting you closer to a well deserved night where they would continue to compete for your attention. 

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

If you're looking for threesome requests, my personal favorite is Blood Orange (Raph and Mikey). I don't need anything too crazy (I'm honestly as vanilla as they come 😅) but maybe it's the two of them and the reader's first time together? They're still figuring things out a little, and Raph and Mikey need to come to an understanding on how to go about things, and it ends up being very sweet, passionate and ultimately a success. I hope this is okay. Let me know, and thank you so much!

Blood Orange (18+)

Fortnite!Raphael x reader x Fortnite!Michelangelo

A/N: I’m not that vanilla myself, but I’ve decided to cut back just a little, before any full on action is about to happen, keeping it very implied (and maybe because I got a little tired but still had an urge to get this posted today😂💚). It doesn’t go into detail about their first time together, but it does set the stage for how a threesome would come about, and I hope that’s okay❤️🧡

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Fwb relations, implied smut, almost fingering, turtley anatomy, implied threesome.

You had tried plenty of things in your life. Many exciting things that some people could only dream of. Though you might not consider them exciting or as extreme as some people might see it, but you did enjoy it. You had enjoyed all of it. But there was still one thing that you really wanted to try. A thing you had only been able to dream of. A fantasy that had been making its way through your thoughts, over and over for quite some time now. And now, as you sat between Raphael and Michelangelo on the couch, watching a show that they had decided on, your little fantasy made its way back into focus, causing your heart to quicken a bit. And what was that little fantasy of yours? A threesome. Not just any threesome, but a threesome with you, and the two mutant turtles you sat between. And to be quite honest, that fantasy had been getting you in the mood like no other. Especially when you knew exactly what the two brothers were capable of.

For several weeks now, you had had a friends with benefits relationship with not just Raphael but Michelangelo as well. However, neither of them seemed to know about the other. None of them knew that just moments after you had been sucking Raph off in his bedroom, you would just skip across the hall to Mikey’s room, where he would eat you out in his own room. And in all brutal honesty. You loved it. It was probably one of the best things you had ever gotten yourself into. Some days it had gotten more freaky than others, with you having been fucked thuroly by one of the brothers, before you made your way to the other brother to experience the whole thing all over again.

You have had both Raph and Mikey, several times, even within hours of each other. So of course, the natural thing to be wanting next, was to have both of them at the same time. And of course, as you sat there, squished between the two men that have been pounding you to heaven and back, you couldn’t help but wonder if you should do something about it. That this was the day that you would cause your fantasy to become real.

With a lip bite you shifted your attention between the two mutants, wondering which one would be the first to make a move on you. Normally, it wouldn’t take long before one of them would cough, or do something before mumbling something about going to their room, as a sign for you to follow when the coast was clear, and all suspicion was off. So now you sat there, excitingly waiting for any of them to do something. Both Mikey and Raph sat with their eyes glued to the show, playing on the screen before you. They would only move once in a while, in an attempt to get more comfortable on the couch. At every move, you found yourself hoping, getting excited at the thought of what might happen next. So you could not help but feel a little disappointed when they were only scratching their chin, or just moving one leg over the other. It was almost getting to the point of infuriating. But then, something happened, sending shivers of joy through your body.

Raph had moved a hand to his chin, giving it a few scratches, before letting it fall back down. But instead of returning to a rest in Raph lap, just like it had done moments before, it now came to rest on your thigh, giving it a small squish, before letting his thumb rub against your clothes. It was impossible for you to not bite the inside of your lip.

Just as you started to focus on the feeling of Raph’s hand on your thigh, you felt Mikey’s hand carefully nudge yours onto his lap, with his hand slowly guiding it to where he wanted it, getting closer and closer to his cloaca. You sucked in a silent breath, noticing how both brothers were still staring at the television, not noticing what the other was doing. It was thrilling, as you felt your lower region beginning to puls with excitement. Raph’s hand moved closer to your pulsing center, as your little finger made contact with Mikey’s needy cloaca. You swallowed a moan, but you could not hide your heavy sigh. That caused Raph to chuckle, and Mikey to crack a small smile.

“And here I thought she would be a harder nut to crack”, he chuckled, finally looking your way, with his hand squishing your thigh once more. This time you could not hide your moan, too shocked to even try.

“Really?”, Mikey asked, slowly moving your hand over his cloaca, smirking as you saw your flustered and confused expression. “I honestly expected her to crack a lot sooner. You know how she gets when she has first put her mind to something”.

“What are you talking about?”, you asked, feeling your heart beating faster and your breath getting heavier.

“Did you seriously not expect us to know?”, Raph chuckled with a smug smile, leaning in closer to your face, his hand moving to cup your heat, while Mikey’s member slowly came out to let your fingers grace against it. “We’re mutant turtles babe, we can smell it on you”.

“What?”, you asked, suddenly feeling very mortified, freezing in your seat.

The two brothers started laughing, before moving closer against you.

“I don’t think she knows, Mikey”, Raph said, rubbing his hand over your center. “I don’t think she knows that we can smell when she gets aroused, or when she has been with any of us”.

“You can what?!”, you asked, turning from one to the other, your eyes wide, as the revelation of Raph’s words started sinking in. They knew, and they had always known.

“What Raph just told you”, Mikey smiled, using your hand to stimulate his cloaca, letting his head fall back against the headrest of the couch, looking at you with dreamy yet mischievous eyes. “I don’t think you realize how much fun we’ve had with it”.

“Fun?”, you asked, feeling Raph’s fingers sneak towards the hem of your bottoms.

“Yeah, fun”, Raph smirked, slowly moving below you underwear, as his fingers sneaked their way down. “It’s almost a game to see who can make you cum the quickest, or if we can beat your highest amount of orgasms in one day”.

“Why do you think we both want you on the same day, just right after each other? We know just how to overstimulate you”, Mikey said.

“But tonight”, Raph said, making his way past your mount, with one finger gracing your slick folds, causing you to shutter, wishing that he would press down, right where you needed him and Mikey the most. “We thought it would be best to see if we could do it all, together, right here, on the couch”.

“How does that sound?”, Mikey asked, his voice already sounding airy.

You did not hesitate, pressing your fingers against Mikey’s cloaca, causing his member to slowly slip out, his head peeking into the palm of your hand, while you lifted your hips just a little, chasing Raph’s fingers.

“I say, bring all you got”, you smiled, feeling delighted that your fantasy was finally becoming a reality.

[luvingspence]

headcanons | ryohei arisu

author’s note: i started aib and ohmygod this man, smut hc’s are definitely ooc but i just need him so bad so i’m feeding my own delusional.

warnings: nothing much, just my first time writing smut hc’s😭

synopsis: pre-borderlands hc’s! also this is LONGGG, i have too many thoughts.

not proof read

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ pre-borderlands

♡ he’s a loser, you know it, he knows it, his friends know it, and his father definitely does. but it makes him all the more endearing.

♡ he’s so, so nervous at first, but once you both grow more comfortable in your relationship he’s giving into your every wish, genuinely at your beck and call. you’re his whole world and he just wants to make you happy <3

♡ he’s a little gamer! mainly pc (unfortunately, i’m a ps5 girly) but he knows his stuff. definitely uses emulators to play games like resident evil and the last of us.

♡ he prefers online shooters and stuff, but he doesn’t mind story based games if they’re more action based, like re4.

♡ i think he’d prefer a girlfriend who doesn’t mind video games (or loves them like him) so you can play together and talk about games :(

♡ would definitely emulate it takes two on both his pc and yours so you could play together, it’s such a cutesy little couple game! you guys would have a blast playing together! :(

♡ if you had a console best believe he’s using it for at least an hour every time he’s over, won’t admit it’s better than his PC but you both know it’s what he’s thinking.

♡ loves it when you sit in his lap while he plays :( and you love it too.

♡ arms wrapped around your waist as he rests his controller on your thighs, chin on your shoulder as he plays, but he always gets distracted, giving you the attention you want so easily, kissing your neck gently, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs and hips as he whispers in your ear.

♡ i can’t imagine he uses pet names often, if he does they’re classics like ‘baby’ and ‘babe’.

♡ “Baby, you wanna hop on call for a bit?” he texts you at least once a day every night you aren’t together, he ends up screen sharing a movie or show you can watch together.

♡ is also a boyfriend that makes you watch him play i’m so sorry but he just is. you see him rage far too often over COD.

♡ loves it when you call him ‘honey’, just does it for him.

♡ he’s a nerd so that definitely extends to different parts of his life other than video games, when you go shopping you always end up browsing new posters, figurines, and mangas.

♡ AOT is my favourite anime/manga so i’m gonna hc that it’s his too! ;)

♡ his favourite character is eren. without a doubt, just thinks he’s so cool, and absolutely loses his mind when he sees him turn into the attack titan for the first time, “Babe! Fucking look, that’s so cool!-“

♡ thinks you’re so pretty. while girls loved karube, the same couldn’t be said for him. in the show he’s in his 20s so i won’t say he’s a virgin, but definitely not super experienced.

♡ just can’t believe he has a girlfriend as pretty as you, no matter what you look like, goth, emo, a girl who loves to dress up and wear makeup, or if you prefer dressing down he thinks you’re so stunning.

♡ “you’re the prettiest girl ever.” (literal heart eyes)

♡ “your makeup looks really nice, baby :)”

♡ *stares at you in the mirror while you brush your hair.*

♡ “baby can you play a game with me, i’m bored :(.”

♡ dates are super lowkey! but you both love it that way.

♡ walks in parks, cinema dates, shopping dates, lazy days on the couch or in his bed watching movies are the most common ones.

♡ he does splurge on an actual restaurant for anniversary’s and valentines and your birthday with whatever little money he has.

♡ dresses up on those days too! He’ll wear a plain black shirt or white button up (whatever is more appropriate) instead of a graphic tee and some nice jeans or black slacks (he steals them from his brother.)

♡ for gifts he also keeps in lowkey, and so do you! you both can’t afford much so you just appreciate what the other gets you.

♡ he gets you little figures and posters he thinks you’ll like, or plushies! if you like makeup he’ll splurge a tad and get you a nice lipgloss you said you’ve been wanting.

♡ is definitely a boyfriend who gets gifts catered to your interests and things you like rather than buying you stuff he thinks all girls like.

♡ just over all very thoughtful, sweet, and very very handsome even though he refuses to believe it.

♡ pre-borderlands smut hc’s

♡ isn’t a virgin, but not experienced. one or two bodies before you i’d guess.

♡ let’s talk abt his dick 🤭

♡ he’s above average, but not insanely big. 6 inches, decently girthy but not so much so that it would hurt. it’s so pretty. a perfect size, two toned, a few veins and perfectly straight.

♡ i see far too many people hc him as a sub, but i honestly don’t see that, he’s neither and doesn’t have much of an interest in power dynamics

♡ you’re his equal, his baby, why would he wanna control you in anyway? :(

♡ such a titty guy. he is’t picky about size, but loves the way yours sit so pretty.

♡ soft pecks slowly grow into heated and lustfully heavy touching above your clothes, his big hands and lithe fingers shyly manoeuvring under your top. Inching their way up your soft flesh, they always find your breasts, caressing them gingerly as he softly loves on you.

♡ positions are nothing crazy, he loves classic missionary sometimes, just staring into your eyes, watching your face contort as you whine and moan. god you just look so good.

♡ but he also loves prone bone, getting you on your stomach, sliding himself in, slowly, almost torturously so. he fills you to the hilt, groaning into your ear softly as your bodies press together, sharing their warmth. he props himself up on his elbows, thrusting into you gently and slowly. he wants to savour every moment. without a doubt, he always brushes your hair away from your face, putting a large hand under you chin to crane your neck around to him, kissing you slowly as he fucks you into the mattress.

♡ bro LOVESSS head. like so bad. he loves giving, of course, he’s never been much of a ladykiller, so knowing he’s able to please you drives him mad.

♡ but he’s always down for you to suck his dick. he prefers laying with his back propped against the headboard, letting you work away. with a hand gripping your hair, or caressing the back of your head, and his other hand behind his own head, his mouth agape and eyes fluttering closed.

♡ on certain days, he thrusts up into your mouth, but poor boy always ends up feeling a bit bad :(

♡ ohgod and his fingers.

♡ long, lithe, slender. his hands are dexterous, soft and not overly calloused. anytime he uses them on you, he has you laying beside him whilst he leans over you, pumping them in and out, his thumb giving all it’s attention to your clit.

♡ the dirty talk is light, just filled with praise and light teasing

♡ he’s just too soft with you, he could never degrade you in the slightest.

♡ “attagirl, baby.”

♡”doing so good f’me.”

♡”you look so pretty, baby, my pretty girl.”

♡”makin’ me feel so good.”

♡ and just strings of curses as he praises and loves on you

♡ he’s just too good to you :(

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumpee stared sadly at the candy jar while they waited for Caretaker to check them out of their doctor's appointment.

They didn't dare ask for any candy. They would just sit quietly in their wheelchair.

Butterflies danced in their stomach at the thought of asking for things. They had been hurt too many times when they had let their needs and wants be known.

Caretaker reached into the jar and pulled out one of the lollipops. Whumpee watched, hoping that it was for them.

They looked down after Caretaker popped the sucker in their own mouth. The sad feeling they felt was quickly hidden.

Whumpee looked up again when they felt someone walk beside them.

"Are you ready to go?", Caretaker smiled and patted their shoulder before unlocking their wheelchair.

They were still too weak to walk. They could barely even move the chair on their own.

"Y-yes", Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker wheeled them out to the car and got them situated in the front seat.

They paused before buckling the seatbelt for Whumpee. They smiled gently.

"You wanted something in their... didn't you?", Caretaker whispered.

Whumpee looked down nervously, trying to hide from Caretaker's eyes.

"I don't know what you mean", Whumpee gulped nervously.

Caretaker reached into their pocket and pulled out a lollipop to show Whumpee.

Whumpee looked at it nervously. They waited for Caretaker to laugh and pull it away just as their abuser had.

"I had a feeling you wanted some candy", Caretaker grinned, "there was a mirror, I could see your reflection. You were staring at the jar longingly. You only looked down after I grabbed some. I mostly did that as a test to see if you wanted one. I grabbed another after you looked down."

Whumpee blushed, "oh, I-I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for", Caretaker looked at them, "would you like it now, or later?"

"Um, whichever you prefer", Whumpee looked at the lollipop longingly.

"I can tell you want it now", Caretaker sighed, "but I need you to tell me that. I know that you have a hard time expressing your needs. I want you to tell me because it is your right as a person to have your wants known."

Whumpee looked at Caretaker nervously, "can I have it now?", they whispered so quietly Caretaker could barely hear, "please."

"You can absolutely have it now, very good", Caretaker handed over the candy.

Whumpee cautiously reached for it, thinking that any second it would be pulled away, and they'd be slapped.

They marveled at the candy while Caretaker put the wheelchair into the trunk. Then they realized they had no idea how to open it. They lowered their head in defeat. So close, yet so far.

Caretaker got in and looked over at them, "would you like some help opening it?", Caretaker buckled their own seat belt, "I'm sorry I didn't ask before going to put the chair away."

Whumpee looked up with a defeated look and handed them the candy, "please", they whispered.

Caretaker gently took it and very slowly showed them how to remove the wrapper before handing the candy back to Whumpee.

"Thankyou", Whumpee made a small grin as they took the candy, "it's been a long time since I've had candy."

"Oh really", Caretaker watched Whumpee's eyes light up as they placed the sucker in their mouth, "I guess we will have to get you more candy, luckily, I know a place."

Whumpee had almost zoned out, they turned to Caretaker.

"I'm sorry, please forgive me. I didn't hear you."

Caretaker smiled, "it's okay. How about we go home, have lunch, and you take a nap after. Later today, we can go to a store I know of that sells all kinds of candy. In celebration of you getting better we can get a few things to try."

"Really, you're going to take me to a store with you?", Whumpee looked at Caretaker in surprise, "I don't embarrass you. I was always told I was embarrassing to be around."

"No of course not, I enjoy being around you a lot actually", Caretaker grinned, "we can go get you candy, but it is time for.... well, would you be interested in eating out today. I know a restaurant that isn't too busy for lunch. So you won't be overwhelmed. Go get some candy after, then head home. You won't miss your nap by too much."

"I haven't eaten out in a long time... are you sure though?", Whumpee whispered lowly, "what should I eat?"

"You can get anything you like", Caretaker nodded, "is this something you would like to do?"

"Yes please", Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker looked over at Whumpee as they drove home from the candy store.

Whumpee excitedly looked into the bag of candy they had selected.

"Are you excited to try all of those?", Caretaker grinned.

Whumpee looked up with watery eyes, "yes, thankyou so much."

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiled, "let's go home."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@risk606 @electrons2006

@paperprinxe @whumprince

@kaz-of-crows @mis-graves

@decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @sausages-things

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@thenormalestever @whatwhump

@galatic-worm @starmoon-constellation

@bacillusinfection @whumpsandbumps

@tobiasbones @octopus-reactivated

@string-of-broken-hearts @weirdthingweee

@kawaii-cakes @phoenixpromptsandstuff

[asairayn]

OKAY HERE'S THE ANALYSIS OF ORIGINAL ECLIPSE

I LOVE THIS. such good interpretations of every version of eclipse.

I do want to talk about the original Eclipse, though, because I have a lot of thoughts on him and his motivation and his issues- I might be a little bit biased towards him (I wrote over 20k words about him over about eight months and wasn't even CLOSE to done).

So! Trying to analyze Eclipse at the very start is kind of difficult because... so much has been retconned, or forgotten about, or turned out to be just Not True- remember when Eclipse said he caused July 16th? Hard to tell whether that was him lying or something that got retconned as soon as they realized they needed a second villain.

But! from the best I can gather, largely from much later episodes that talk about the beginning, the original Eclipse was actually very heavily motivated by feeling betrayed. He actually said it himself

The original Eclipse was Moon. He started out as Moon, he had all the same memories... and then he was abandoned. Fully. Before he even existed. And then he was left in Sun's head for... an indeterminably long time (has the timeline been cleared up yet? how goddamn long before the show starts did july 16th happen?? because he was conscious in Sun's head for long enough before that to create Bloodmoon.), where he was able to hear and maybe see what was going on around Sun... but not do anything. Solitary confinement will get to anyone!

(He actually talked about that as a betrayal and how much it Sucked to be stuck in Sun's head in this clip (well. the reincarnation did. but good fucking luck finding the original eclipse talking about feelings.))

So he was Moon, and then he came to consciousness stuck in Sun's head with Moon's memories still thinking he was Moon, and then was stuck there for... a long time. He created Bloodmoon fairly early... and then was immediately abandoned again. Somehow, in however long he spent in the void in Sun's head (I have a lot of thoughts on that void, but they're not technically canon), he managed to craft himself a new identity. Because he was Moon!

And then he watched Sun and Moon get to exist and have a life while he was stuck for a long time in what was essentially solitary confinement. He hated them- he hated them a lot. It's mentioned many times, especially in the first few episodes with teaps Sun and Moon (i'm at that point in trying to catch up, so. i don't know whatever's happened beyond that), that Eclipse fucking hated being stuck in Sun's head- he hated loss of control, he hated having to watch.

And it shows in what he was trying to do! He hated Moon for abandoning him, and he hated Sun for not letting him have control... so he tortured Moon and completely revoked all control from Sun. Technically his goal in that era is to get the star, to... erase the world and make it better, or something, but. To me, that doesn't show at all- he doesn't act like that's his goal, he mostly acts like that's a fun pastime while he tries to lock Sun and Moon away permanently.

That all doesn't work, evidently. Lunar betrays him, which everybody but him expected, and lets Moon help Sun figure out what the hell to do, and eventually Eclipse gets killed/expelled from Sun's head. Goodbye to the original Eclipse, sucks to suck loser, shouldn't have abused your brother.

But the original Eclipse, at his core, hated Moon for abandoning him but hated Sun for locking him away.

He was mostly motivated by hatred- he'd had a long time to stew in it. He had a lot of abandonment issues and a lot of spite.

Quite literally, at that time, the only way that he could have any kind of control was by shoving Sun into his own head... which made both Sun and Moon hate him more. There wasn't actually any way he could take control without pissing them off- excluding maybe communication, but it's Eclipse. and he'd have to be communicating with Moon (notoriously bad at communication). He also had zero communication skills- he was Moon and then spent a long time unable to talk to anyone.

BUT THE JULY 16TH THING THAT I MENTIONED EARLIER IS IMPORTANT. I forgot I was going to talk about that.

So! The biggest thing that made Sun and Moon hate Eclipse from the beginning was that he claimed he was the one who took over Sun's body and killed a bunch of children on July 16th. Well, technically, he may have just said that he caused it and let Sun and Moon come to their own conclusions about how- but in the beginning, he was definitely saying that he was the one who killed people on July 16th.

And... that was a lie. Or retconned. Hard to say. You could technically say that he did still cause July 16th by creating Bloodmoon, but that's still a different thing. He didn't take control and murder children with his own hands- he created a person who got bored and took control to murder children.

But that means that Sun and Moon originally hated him for something he didn't do. They had other reasons to dislike him, sure, and he certainly gave them more reasons, but. The original thing wasn't actually him.

That has very little actual bearing on anything. They don't bring that up- it's not a Thing. but. it means something to me, I suppose. When Eclipse first showed up, the only Bad Thing™ that he'd done directly was take control by force. He portrayed himself from the beginning as the Big Bad, but he hadn't really done anything yet. I'm sure at least part of that was because- at least from what I can tell- they didn't actually have any plans for Bloodmoon yet so at that point he was the July 16th killer, but retcons just mean more fun for me.

Eclipse intentionally showed himself as the Bad Guy. He hated Moon for abandoning him, hated Sun because he was stuck in his head, and everything he did for the first few months was just... based in the kill code. He basically just did violence, until he started fucking with Sun and Moon, at which point he was filled with so much spite he couldn't be convinced to do anything else- and they didn't try.

Eclipse threatened Sun- the only person who Moon cared about ("Hi, I'm Moondrop, I don't care about anybody aside from my brother."). No matter what, Moon was going to hate him from that point on. Eclipse started by doing the one thing that Moon would not tolerate.

And then Eclipse created Lunar, for... somewhat vague reasons. And was awful to him, somewhat unsurprisingly. And, because he was horrible to Lunar, he would NEVER be forgiven (Until he came back from the third time, and was enough of a new person for Earth- who also Wasn't There- to not care).

I'm... very clearly biased towards the original Eclipse. I hate him so much and I've written so much about him and everything I wrote keeps being proven correct EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY TALK ABOUT THE ORIGINAL ECLIPSE.

Um. I'll be honest I don't actually know where the fuck I was going with this and I maybe just wanted an excuse to scream about Eclipse. And accidentally wrote over a thousand words of it.

Is there a certain way you go about the characterizations of the different incarnations of Eclipse?

Their motivations!

So at his core, Eclipse is an angry, paranoid, spiteful, arrogant, lonely, possessive, socially-inept person who can't communicate to save his own life. No matter where in his life you're writing him from, these traits persist.

The differences come in what his goal is, and which of his core traits are being amplified because of it.

I've written the Original Eclipse the least, mostly because I actually got interested in the show following his death 8'D. This Eclipse is the most closed off of all of them, the least likely to change his mind, the angriest and most vindictive. He hasn't been betrayed yet, he hasn't really failed yet, so his arrogance is at an all time high.

On the flip side, after his defeat and expulsion from Sun's head, this is also the rawest point in Eclipse's life. There's a lot of good fics about scraping his broken ass out of the woods and patching him up, and for good reason. Strip his arrogance away with his loss, and he has nothing.

My favorite is the Backup Eclipse. Eclipse 2.0, my beloved! Still arrogant, still angry, but spite is his strongest trait. He was defeated and he knows it, and he's learned that he needs to be a bit smarter in manipulating those around him. By escalating the game to the next level when he amplified Moon's kill code (giving us the guy, Kill Code), Eclipse started a chain reaction that is STILL going on in current canon.

The Backup is my favorite because his characterization runs from one end of the spectrum to the other. He comes back as a bedraggled version of himself, forced to deal with basically being Bloodmoon's prisoner while also getting them to work for him. He manages to enact one victory after another, culminating in him actually gaining the star. He did it, he won!

And then he fucking crashes.

Possession and loneliness are his strongest traits in the second half of his arc, and he picks up depression as well. Spite has become bitterness. Eclipse was never supposed to win, and he knows it. The star was only ever a means to an end, a way to get Moon's attention. And when Moon resets himself... Eclipse doesn't know what to do. He attempts to respark that rivalry, but New Moon isn't interested.

With no goal to latch on to, Eclipse crumples under his own misery and lack of purpose. On his way to winning, he destroyed everything that made his life interesting.

And then he got space lasered.

And then finally Eclipse 3.0, the Recreated Eclipse. I don't make a distinction between who he was before Lunar blew up his body and after, though I know some folks do.

Eclipse 3.0 starts off with anger, of course, and a lot of confusion and desperation. For a good amount of time in there he was p much feral. This one is mired in self-pity, and lashes out because of it.

Because that's what makes this one really interesting. He's picking up from where the Backup left off-- he has no purpose. I think he sunk his claws into the goal of 'find my creator' just to HAVE a goal. He's also interacting regularly with other people for the first time in his life(s), even if he does spend a lot of time taunting Moon for stuff that neither of them were personally there for.

Two things, I think, really helped Eclipse start stabilizing. The first was, uh. Solar's death 8'D More specifically, it was Puppet giving him an impossible task to focus on, and Eclipse always needs a goal. The second was Earth started socializing him. Which I love-- hell, I wrote that myself back in Sunk Cost. Earth always had the advantage of not being personally victimized by Eclipse like her siblings were, which let her be more tolerant of him.

Eclipse in his current state is still arrogant and possessive, and his people skills still suck. He's 'better' as a kind of side effect to Puppet's request; bringing Solar back, doing this Super Important Thing That Even Moon Failed At? Was a major ego boost. Eclipse learned a very important lesson:

Doing good things gets you attention and praise.

Which is why I think he had such a rocky start with the new dimension Sun and Moon 8'D He was chasing the high of being the hero, at the cost of actually paying attention to what was going on. He knew how things were supposed to go, that made him The Smartest. He's a good guy for extremely selfish reasons XD

But he's also finally made it to where a lot of fanfic authors have gotten him. A little less lonely, a few wounds healed. He does have people he cares about, without any intent for manipulation involved.

So yeah. I guess in summary:

Original Eclipse (Upright): Vindictive, angry. Would bite your hand off rather than take it Original Eclipse (Reversed): Lost, bewildered. A feral animal, but one that can be tamed.

Backup Eclipse (Upright): Spiteful, serious. Lost the game once already, has no intention of losing again. Backup Eclipse (Reversed): Bitter, desolate. An Eclipse without a purpose, can be coaxed onto new paths. Still will probably bite you a few times first. Recreated Eclipse (Upright): Arrogant, possessive. The end goal of many a fanfic, actually able to get along as a functional member of society... mostly. Recreated Eclipse (Reversed): Feral, desperate. Clinging onto what fragments he has in a life he didn't ask for, and hating every second of it.

Idk if that was useful but there you go!!!

[xoxo-author]

My Salesman

Pairing: Salesman x reader

Warnings: my shitty writing, language, mentions of violence, probably so many errors

Side note: Does anyone know the salesman name in the show or do we really only know him as the salesman? Doesn’t bother me one bit either way 😉

Don’t be nasty! Please don’t copy my work!

Does the story make sense? No. Has it been living in my head since season 2 came out? Yes. Have I thought about the salesman at least 7 days a week since season 2 came out? Also yes.

Enjoy!

Credit to gif owner

I let out a long sigh, "Can you please watch where you're going?"

"Holy shit, I found you!"

My head snaps up, confusion written all over my face. Jin, who I haven't seen in almost two years and who was a family friend, stands in front of me with wide eyes. My confusion only grows deeper as he wraps his arms around me tightly, brings me to his chest, and lifts me off the ground causing me to tense. 

He sets me back on the ground before pushing me to arms length with his hands on my shoulders, "Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"

"Looking for me?"

"You've been missing for three years!" 

"Missing?"

He nods, "You fell off the face of the earth and no one has heard from you since. Do you know how worried we all were?"

I shake my head, trying to shrug off his hands, "I'm not missing Jin."

Jin looks at me as if I was crazy, "You're not missing? Do you think we're all going to believe that you went away on your own? No, your dad was right to report you missing."

My dad? What the hell did he do now? "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Three years ago you vanished without a trace, no one hears from you or knows where you are. Your dad comes into the station and reports you missing."

"You're telling me, my father reported me missing to the cops?"

Jin nods, letting his hands fall from my shoulders down to my forearms, "He was so distraught, he was talking about how you guys were in the train station when a man in a grey suit with a briefcase who was tall approached him and asked him to play a game for money and when your dad refused, the man took you instead."

It doesn't necessarily shock me that my father would lie to the police, he was nothing more than a crook but to know that he reported me missing when it was his fault that I've been gone for three years is mind-blowing. 

"We sent out search parties, hung fliers, posted reward money for your return or any information on you or the man in the grey suit, we sent bolos to other cities and nearby countries, we checked surveillance tapes and everything came back with nothing."

I tilt my head to the side, "What do you mean surveillance tapes came back with nothing?"

I know for a fact that there were so many cameras in the station that one of them was bound to have caught my dad just hand me over to the grey suit guy. Granted I went willingly but still.

"The cameras were down the day you went missing."

I shake my head, of course they were. While my father is a complete sleazeball, he's a smart sleazeball who would cover all his bases. 

"Your case went cold until about two and a half years ago. We had a guy come in claiming he was taken to this island where there were four hundred and fifty-five other people there who owed money to someone or something. These people could play a couple of games and win money but if you lost a game you would be killed so there could only be one winner and this man claimed to be the winner. We thought he was complete batshit until he mentioned that he was approached by a tall man who wore a grey suit that had a briefcase who asked him if he wanted to play a game."

My father came home roaring drunk one night talking about how he was approached by someone in the station asking if he wanted to play a game for money and how he wanted the entire briefcase but the man wouldn't give it up so my father offered him something for the money in the case. That something was me. My father traded his own daughter for money.

When I found out, I was livid but then I realized it would be my only way out and away from him. 

We went to the station that same night and the man in the suit still stood there, seemingly waiting for my father to return. I suppose I should've beenfrightened at the fact that my father sold me to a stranger but I felt the complete opposite. Maybe it was the fact that he was dressed as an everyday salesman. I was calm as I stood by the man's side and watched my father walk away with the money. 

There was a small part of me that expected the man to let me go but he did not. I've been with him the past three years and I can say they've been the best three years. Yeah, he was completely batshit crazy. I mean he sent people to games where they were more than likely not coming back and he may have killed people (not quite positive on that one but he did come home with blood on his clothes and face so using context clues) but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I don't see the entire crazy side, I mostly only see the "normal" side. 

That's probably the daddy issues talking but that's a problem for another day. 

Letting out a sigh, I manage to tug one of my arms free, "Jin, as you can see, I am completely fine. I am unharmed and not missing. You can tell people I am fine but please don't tell them where I am."

His eyes go even wider, "You're coming home with me. I just told you that your father has been worried sick about you for the past three years and yet you don't want to come home or let me tell him where you are?"

If only he knew the truth about my father, although that might not matter as Jin has always tried, for some reason, to get on my father's good side. I knew of his crush on me since forever so I am sure that is his driving factor for wanting to be on my father's good side. 

Jin looks down as I try to tug my other hand free, his grip only getting tighter, "What's on your finger? Did you marry your kidnapper?"

It was about a year and a half when we got married. I fell for the "normal" side. Again, thank you daddy issues. 

Jin begins to tug on my arm, "You're coming home and that's the end of it. You and I will get married, your father will be happy, and you'll be home. Everything will go back to normal."

As I use my free hand to tug at his iron-like fist around my forearm, I manage to look at the time on his watch. My head shoots up, eyes frantically glancing over the different faces in the park in search of a certain man who doesn't like when his things are touched. 

Giving my forearm another tug, Jin starts trying to pull me in the opposite direction of where I was headed. 

"Jin, you need to let go of me right now."

A throat clearing behind me made Jin stop in his tracks, his head turning back to look at me. Or rather who was behind me.

I knew who it was without even having to look. 

"Who's this?"

My body tilts to the side a little while my head turns up, "A friend from home."

Returning my attention to Jin, I tug my arm again, "Jin, let go and go back home."

Jin's eyes seemingly trace every inch of the infamous man in the grey suit (although he had on black pants and a white button-up today), "Is this your kidnapper?"

Jins grip on my forearm tightens causing me to suck in a breath and as soon as the words, "Jin you're hurting me" came out of my mouth, my view was obstructed by a stretched-out (rather stretched due to broad shoulders) white button-up. 

"I believe my wife has told you that you are hurting her so it's in your best interest if you let go."

Jin's grip falters for a moment before going back to gripping my forearm, "I'm taking her back to where she belongs."

The man in front of me chuckles and I knew it was game over. 

"I don't like it when people touch what belongs to me."

I couldn't see anything but I could hear and what I heard was a fist connecting to face, more specifically a fist breaking a bone. 

Jin immediately let go of my arm, letting me move out from behind my shield who had his head tilted and his signature smirk. I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was in crazy mode. 

My salesman looks down at me, eyes quickly giving me a once over only to narrow when he sees my now see-through sundress. His eyes snaps back to Jin, who looked like he was about to shit his pants, "Not only was it enough to hurt my wife but you wanted to see what I get to have every night? Did you purposefully make her spill the drinks on herself?"

I quickly place myself in front of him, one of my hands going to his chest while the other goes to the side of his neck. Over the past three years, I've learned that skin-to-skin contact seems to help pull him out of the I'm a killer phase. "Look at me... Look at me, please...I want to go home."

His gaze snaps to mine and I give him a little smile, "Take me home?"

I could feel him relax a little before he reached up and takes hold of my hand that was on his chest. He shoots Jin a look that would for sure kill him if looks could kill and turn on his heels, pulling me in the direction of our home. 

I don't bother turning around to look at Jin.

"What was his favorite game to play as a child?"

My salesman was already looking at me when I looked up at him. 

"If you don't tell me, I'll have to pick my favorite and we both know which one that’ll be”

🔫🔫

[welcometoyunosworld]

A connection

𝐊𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐢-𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐠 / 𝐆-𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼 / 𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁: 𝘍𝘌𝘔𝘈𝘓𝘌! 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘥, 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘒𝘱𝘰𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘎-𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘖𝘕 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘔𝘜𝘚𝘐𝘊, 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘚𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘑𝘪-𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 💋

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Being a famous singer and song writer wasn't just about fame or money, your love and passion for those inspired you to make music, the type of music that people can relate to, can vibe to and would absolutely love. You find ways to express your emotions in other ways. Making music, your fashion and your art. You really seek for something, anything, yet you still don't know what you really want.

When you were just a little girl, you'd be on and on about beung famous and rich, about how you'll be the star of the show. Now you're here, in your studio, staring at the blank screen of the computer in front of you as your mind won't leave you alone about your longing for that thing even you don't know. Grabbing a pencil and you sit up straight then began to write, making sure to find the right words or not. Trying to express that feeling of emptiness, feeling of being.. not enough. You feel empty, alone and.. sad.

You had many unreleased songs, most of them were songs about your struggles, pain and loneliness. You didn't plan to release them anytime soon.

You sighed and folded the paper and shoved it in the drawer before you left to get ready for your interview for today. You've been going viral again after one of your old songs started to go viral because it was used for an Edit Video of this one Kpop Idol that you were familiar with. After checking it out, you can't help but smile a bit, G-DRAGON, aka Kwon Ji-yong. Oh he was cute alright. And after that, you were listening to POWER by G-DRAGON on repeat while you were getting ready.

As you finished quickly, you made it just in time. It was bigger than you thought. The room was big, furnitures in the center and a coffee table in front, it was pretty simple, just the room size got you wondering why they need such a big ass room. But still, as your name was announced, you walked into view of the camera with your best smile and greeted the host with a polite smile.

“So Ms. Y/n, what are your thoughts about your old song that's been going viral again even though that song was years ago?” You hummed and took a good moment to think about your answer. “I am really happy that people are liking my old songs too, it brings me great gratitude to all my fans. I don't mind if they would like some or all my old songs, all that matters is that they do enjoy listening to the songs.” You replied with a smile as the host nods and nodded in respect.

“Ah what about the famous edit that blew up? Using your song for the Kpop idol G-DRAGON.” You raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I love it. The edit it amazing, my song definitely fits the Dragon himself. Very cute if you'd ask me. I had to watch it a few more times because my goodness this is the cutest man I've seen in ages.” You said with confidence and your honesty, you really found him cute, especially the edit.

“Ah so then, your thoughts about G-DRAGON and his music?” You had to take a deep breath, oh you were definitely gonna give them your 𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘁 thoughts.

“I think G-Dragon is very cute, i absolutely enjoy his music. It's just amazing! I just learned more stuff about him after i saw that edit of him. And he definitely ate and left no crumbs for not even hesitating to diss someone or something. His music gets me hyped and motivated, and when i see his cute face i just close my eyes and thank god that i find a REAL man out here. And oh the way he raps, god save me, i wanna hear more of his songs old or new, whatever. G-DRAGON, the living legend, ICON!” The host bust out laughing at the way you describe your answer, but he was satisfied with it and so are you.

At the near end of your interview, it was the last question..

“𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝗚-𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻?”

You nodded with a snap of your fingers. “Yessir, absolutely. I would LOVE to see this man.” You said as you smiled happily though you'd doubt you'd be able to actually meet THE G-Dragon here, but a small part of you wished you would meet him, because you're already becoming a big fan of him, Hell, you wished you knew him sooner!!

“𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆, 𝗠𝘀. 𝗟/𝗻.”

Your eyes widened as you saw the familiar red hair and head scarf of THE living legend himself. He couldn't help but chuckle at your adorable reaction. “OH MY HEAVENS-” You ran up to him, but you didn't hug him. Oh not yet, you simply stood there, just admiring him which made him chuckle and give you his signature sweet smile. “Oh he's even cuter in person, is this heaven?” That only made him laugh softly and gently pat your head. “You are very gorgeous.” He said softly and he opens his arms for you, to which you gladly hugged him.

That interaction between you and Ji-yong left your fans and his fans in absolute shock. The moment was wholesome and very heartwarming. It was a moment you would never forget, especially when you even saved that photo of you two hugging. Ji-yong, too, couldn't help but keep the photo too, even printing it out and have it somewhere in his stuido. And each time he'd look at it, he can't help but smile softly, missing the warmth of your embrace, the angelic sound of your voice, the excitement and happiness he hears in your voice when you saw him.

After some days, you eventually found his Instagram, and liked his recent posts, even his stories too. You just can't help but miss him, you two didn't even have a proper talk in that interview because he showed up at the END of the interview. You find yourself smiling and giggling when you received a notification that Ji-yong liked some of your posts too.

It started off like that, just showing each other your support and love for music, until it turns into texting each other daily, until it turns into having calls here and there. It's been a long time already, nearly two months, you don't even know, you were just feeling so much more better. After one of his tours, you gave him a surprise visit at the dressing room while he was getting his hair styled. And before he went out, he gently placed a kiss on the back of your hand and said..

“𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘪 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺, 7𝘱𝘮?”

You couldn't even speak, but you managed to whisper a small “Yes..” and he smiled softly at you, feeling so happy.

You don't even feel that lonely anymore after meeting Ji-yong, that emptiness in you, was slowly going away, replaced with the fast beating of your heart when you were waiting for Ji-yong to pick you up, it took about five minutes or so. He arrived in that shiny car and he rolled down the window, he gave you a little smirk. “What a lovely view.” He said before he got out and led you to the door, opening it for you and even helping you get in carefully.

𝘿𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙣.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Aaaaaaa thank you!! Hope you like this one Baes!💋

[anna-proxx]

Thank you!!

I love your take and it makes sense.

It's interesting to consider that the key distinction is his outlook on the world and it reminded me of real life instances when people get hurt and they either turn against the world with resentment and make others bleed as well, or do the opposite and try to make the world a better place with kindness so that others don't have to hurt the same way.

It supports your point about LH Arthur's cynicism and belief that the world is too doomed to begin with.

And I think we all have that choice at many points in our lives whenever something makes us question it, if we keep the hope or not.

Originally, Arthur's son was meant to die in Colter and they ended up changing it so that it happened years ago. I don't know what was the reason for it, but with the way it is now, it shows how cruel the world can be and it gave Arthur time to internalize his feelings about the incident. Of course Arthur always knew how cruel the world can be, but this struck him on a personal level and it's important to his story.

Now it makes me think of the debt mission in chapter 6 where we have the choice to give the widow money. When Arthur sees her son, there's a pained expression on his face and it seems to be a parallel to Isaac and Eliza. This again sends the message that we can either cause hurt the same way somebody hurt us, or act against it happening to someone else as well.

It's harder to be kind when you're angry and Arthur is often described as an angry man, regardless of honor. Anger is a secondary emotion and it makes sense that he suppressed all his emotions until they grew into something sharper. Living with it every day tires you out.

I like your point about how LH Arthur remains loyal to the gang and acts in its best interest. Clearly he still cares about other people, just not as openly.

I definitely don't know about all the LH cut scenes and I might make myself do a LH run just to see them, but I remember watching a youtube video on how his journal entries differ after gang members' deaths and after a certain character dies (I don't wanna spoil just in case, but it's the first death in Clemens Point), HH Arthur's journal entry is more personal and shows he clearly cared for the person and he also admits those feelings. LH Arthur is more practical about it.

I guess LH is more guarded in this way as well, perhaps he gave up on caring for people in a personal way because it usually ends in pain, especially in this line of work. And I'd guess that leaves him feeling more lonely.

HH Arthur certainly keeps his distance as well, but at least he allows his heart to to still love and care and he's comfortable writing about it in his journal.

I believe his journal entries are more altruistic as well, like the last entry about Mary. He just wants her to be happy.

I totally agree that LH Arthur thinks he's stuck in a role of an outlaw and he had resigned on trying to be and do better.

He feels as though it's impossible for him to do good, to be kind, because that's not how he sees himself, while HH Arthur at least tries to do something good for the sake of those individuals he helps. Though he might not believe he could redeem himself with all the things he had done in his life.

I'd like to think that when we see HH Arthur being self-depricating, it's because he's aware of his inner darker side, thoughts or feelings (or the lack of them) that we don't get to see unless we play low honor which is when they come to surface. Arthur thinks he's a bad man regardless of honor and is quick to deflect any "you're a good man" that comes his way. He knows he could easily give in to his darkness and that might be scary (I know it would scare me).

Reminds me of his journal entry about Charles (after helping the German family), admiring him for doing the right thing like it's natural to him. For Arthur it's a conscious choice hence why he doesn't believe he's good.

After all, that's what Mary meant by "There's a good man within you, but he's wrestling with a giant."

The game encourages the idea that Arthur is actively in an inner battle between those two sides.

So, in a LH playthrough we can see what exactly HH Arthur doesn't like about himself. We just don't outwardly see it as much otherwise. Basically, in HH we see the better version of him, but he's still aware of what he could easily become.

(I'm not saying that HH Arthur is a saint by the way, it's just that one is morally above the other and it depends on which side of himself he suppresses)

When I first started playing the game and found out about the honor system without knowing much about Arthur, I thought it was cool that we get to choose who we wanna be. Of course now I understand that Arthur had always been both and that makes him more complex (I do love complex characters).

Honestly us as a player having the choice to go either route nicely shows what's otherwise hidden and how he alternatively acts if he goes a different path.

This is why it annoys me when someone claims that LH Arthur would do something completely out of Arthur's character.

Now it wouldn't be Arthur's free choice to lead the life he does if it hadn't been for his loyalty. But the damage has been done, even when he realises who Dutch really is.

LH Arthur just accepts that. He's used to being part of the reason the world is so tainted.

HH Arthur, for the first time, free of Dutch's influence, takes the leap of faith and does things for himself for the first time. Which is what multiple characters in the game encourage him to do in chapter 6.

During the last mission of chapter 6 (high honor, helping John over the money), Arthur repeats he had won in the end to Micah. What really matters to him is that he gave John the chance to be happy with his family. That his life, and death, wasn't meaningless. That's why I the epilogue is important for Arthur's story as well. He made it happen.

Arthur shows us that we always have a choice, no matter who we believe we are or how much darkness there is within us. No good deed is pointless, even if we feel like bad people inside. It doesn't matter what we're capable of but what we decide to do with it.

Good people do good things and bad people do bad things but either can do the opposite as well.

Kind people are capable of violence. And vice versa.

I'd love to see some low honor Arthur analyses.

I usually think of high honor Arthur and I also don't have the heart to play the low honor route all the way through, so I'm not as familiar with it.

I've seen certain people say things like LH Arthur would shoot you on sight, which of course is bullshit, because not everything that makes you lose honor is "canon".

Arthur is still the same person either way, in the essence. And, characteristics of each are still present in one or the other.

But I'd like to see someone's opinion on what makes him different from high honor and what those two share and why.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - Gold Over America

Masterpost

Read on AO3 (this is a new installment in the Clegan Olympics AU series on AO3)

Author's note: This is NOT the official epilogue. However, I went to see the Gold Over America Tour recently, and I couldn't not write this. Takes place about 5 months after Sous le Ciel de Paris

---

“You holdin’ up okay?”

Curt asks Bucky some form of this question every single night. Are you okay? How you holdin’ up? How’s the leg feel? You sure you’re good for the next number? We can fill in for you if you need a night off.

Sometimes it bugs him – usually when he is, in fact, in more discomfort than he cares to admit – but more often he’s coming to recognize it for the friendly concern that it is. He’s slowly starting to accept the fact that he isn’t a teenager anymore. He isn’t indestructible, and there are people here who care about him and actively want to help him stay healthy.

That’s what we call growth.

Bucky blinks, frozen in the middle of wrapping his knee with tape. Tonight is only his second time since Paris tumbling without a brace and he’s probably overcompensating with how much he’s wrapping the joint. He might as well just wear the damn brace. “Huh? Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks.” He tilts his head and squints, taking a second to actually think about how his leg feels, before concluding that physically, yes, he is fine, if a little sore. 

He nods again. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Curt smacks his hand and makes a quit it motion. He grabs the tape out of Bucky’s hand and starts unwrapping it from around his leg as Bucky sputters in protest. Then Curt hands him his brace instead. Bucky glares at him, but he takes the thing and goes about strapping it around his knee.

“No reason not to wear it if you’re this jittery,” Curt says.

It’s early January, a brand new year, and they’re at Capital One arena in Washington, D.C. It’s their third week of the Gold Over America Tour, a fun sort of victory lap for USA’s Olympic gymnasts as well as some of the other gymnasts from the U.S. and from around the world. It’s performative instead of competitive, promoting camaraderie, strength, and resilience through a mixture of gymnastics and fun dance numbers.

In short, it’s a two month long cross-country excursion where the gymnasts basically just get to have fun and interact with fans.

Since they’re in D.C., they’re close to home, and Bucky’s been distracted like this all day. He hasn’t been able to think straight from the moment he woke up on the tour bus, all jumpy and worried about seeing his boyfriend and if he would actually show up or if he’d decided in the month since they last saw each other that Bucky wasn’t worth it after all. Then when Gale actually did meet them in the stadium for rehearsal, Bucky was so excited that he kept getting distracted and tripping over his own feet. Not to mention the amount of time he spent just staring at Gale in complete awe when they all went out to lunch earlier, or the fact that he was nearly late for the show because he was doing god-knows-what backstage.

And now they’re here, in the middle of act one, and Bucky is thrown all out of whack again. Curt tells him to get his head on straight, and Bucky flips him off.

Beside them, Croz is changing into a different competition shirt and pants. He glances up at Bucky, a teasing smile on his face. “You see him out there?”

Bucky nods as he gets to his feet and starts tugging his own pants on. “Just for a second.”

One, perfect second during the opening number where the noise of the stadium faded to quiet and it felt like everything around him was moving in slow motion. It’s hard to see into the crowd through the lights shining on them, but Gale is in the front row, right by the spring floor. And Bucky was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Curt rolls his eyes. “Not like you didn’t know he’d be here. You’ve been with him all day.”

“It’s just… different.” Bucky shrugs, shifting his weight from leg to leg to test out how the brace feels. “It’s the first time he’s getting to actually see me do this since…” Well, since the Paris Olympics five months ago. Since that last fateful day in Bercy Arena that nearly destroyed John’s career (again) and tore them apart.

It’s the first time since then that Gale gets to watch Bucky be a gymnast. The first time since then that he gets to watch Bucky do what he loves to do. 

Originally, before tickets went on sale, before Bucky fucked his leg all over again, they’d hoped to do this tour from September until early November, giving them enough time to recover from the Games and choreograph the show on the front end, and enough time to get back to work for the 2025 competition season on the back end. And then John Egan, one of the stars of this show about strength and resilience, got hurt, went AWOL, spiraled into oblivion, what have you, and it looked like they’d be doing the tour without him.

Once he came to his senses and started at least attempting to crawl his way out of the hole he tried to bury himself in, though, he insisted he wanted to do it. 

The doctor, of course, said he was risking his career doing any form of gymnastics so soon, so they came to a compromise.The tour was postponed until mid-December to give his knee time to heal, and he, for the most part, keeps his skills fairly low impact. There’s one part of the show where each member of the Olympic team performs part of one of their routines, but other than that, most of the skills they’re doing here are easy by their standards in order to preserve their bodies, whether that means doing one less twist or flip or letting themselves fall onto the mats during their landings. John isn’t the only one that needs to be careful – they all do. So, as he claimed to the doctor, anything he’s doing on the tour really isn’t more than he’d be doing in his training gym back home at this point.

That doesn’t keep everyone from worrying about him, though.

For the most part, it’s gone well. Performing on tour with his friends, meeting so many fans, and traveling around the country has been a blast. He keeps up with his rehab regimen, frequently doing the whole rest, ice, compression, and heat deal on the bus between cities, and he’s only had to miss a show once due to overuse of his leg.

He’s doing what he loves, and truly he’s finding his love for it again after a rough couple of years. But now, things are different. He has two loves, and the other is in the audience tonight. They’ve been apart for a month, and yet when they saw each other this morning, Gale still jumped into his arms, kissed Bucky like it was nothing, looked at him like he was everything.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Gale had exclaimed, with that bubbly, candy-sweet smile that is so rare and makes Bucky’s heart jump when he sees it. “I miss you.”

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. It made Bucky feel all sappy, hearing those words, seeing Gale’s freckles and dimples and the real, unequivocal love in his eyes. It made him feel special, wanted, loved.

Bucky still wonders what he did to deserve that. He still thanks the universe every day for giving him a second chance with the most amazing guy in the world.

Croz puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, bringing him back to the present. They can hear the music of one of the girls’ numbers pumping through the stadium; it’s coming to an end, which means he needs to get ready to head out. “He’s proud of you, you know,” Croz says. “You should’ve seen the way he watched you during rehearsal.”

Bucky is quiet for a second, and then he nods hesitantly. He and Gale got into a bit of an argument when Bucky said he wanted to go on tour, after he had already promised to take time off. They didn’t speak for at least a day, and Bucky remembers being so afraid that he was about to lose the only good relationship he’d ever had all over again. He was so afraid he’d have to choose between gymnastics and Gale after all. 

But eventually, Bucky managed to push all that aside and try his hand at instigating a real, open discussion about what him on tour would look like and what precautions he’d take. They held onto each others’ hands and Bucky told Gale what he wanted, what he needed. Gale laid out his concerns, but also reiterated his overall support of Bucky’s career. And they talked. And listened. And Bucky never knew how good healthy communication could feel before. 

Gale was also there every step of the way as Bucky healed, rehabbed, and then started getting back into the gym again just about two months ago. He was there for the ups and downs, running to help Bucky stand back up when he fell, cheering him on with every forward step. 

He never gave up on Bucky. 

He’s proud of you, you know. 

“I know,” Bucky says to Croz. He thinks he might even believe it. 

“Alright, you’ll get to play with your boy toy later,” Curt jokes. He grabs Bucky’s hand and hauls him to his feet. “Come on, you’re up.”

Bucky has to admit, performing his big comeback number – which he’s come to think of as his “I’m back bitch” number – is incredibly cathartic. He wanted to perform to Elton John’s “The Bitch Is Back,” but the production team said it wasn’t “family friendly” enough. 

No fun.

The number starts out with a dark stadium, and there’s a video on the big screen as he gets himself to the center of the floor. It shows a few highlights of his career, his Championship wins, his best Olympic moments, him goofing off with Curt and Croz in the gym. A recording of his voice plays over it, something about how, at some point, everyone faces seemingly insurmountable obstacles, or comes to a crossroads that might determine the course of their life. 

“…In my case, an injury that should have ended my career.”

Every night, Bucky stands in the middle of the floor, dimly illuminated by the light of the big screen. He doesn’t really even know what he says in the video, doesn’t remember. He hasn’t listened to it since it was first recorded, and he blocks it out night after night, except for the end.

He swallows thickly and looks up, sees a clip of his horrifying fall off high bar, cut before he hits the ground. Then a clip of him collapsing after rings back in August, unable to rise. Every night, it makes his heart beat too fast, makes the blood rush in his ears, just for a moment. But then every night, he hears his own voice, smooth and confident: “We rise to the occasion, no matter how hard it might be. We don’t give up, because giving up is not in our nature…”

There’s video clips of his recovery, after both incidents. Videos of him doing painful rehab after high bar. Videos of him back in the gym after rings. A shaky clip of him laughing after landing a tumbling pass again for the first time, running right to the cameraman for a hug.

Gale. He’s running to Gale. 

And it makes Bucky’s heart soar.

The video ends.

John Egan is a guy that likes attention, so standing, feet shoulder-width apart and hands on his hips like a superhero, in the middle of a dark arena as lights flash wildly around him and the beginnings of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck plays is very on brand for him. The flashing lights cast his shadow, long and fleeting, across the floor in all different directions until, finally, they light up and stay on, spotlighting him from all sides. He lets the wild grin overtake his face, pushes back against the pit in his stomach, the buzzing in his head. He shoves all the adrenaline he feels into this moment. He puts both hands in the air in a salute, as if he’s at a competition, and then he launches into a tumbling pass that has the crowd going wild. 

The original plan was for him to do a whole floor routine, but he’s trying to save his leg as much as he can, so he does his big opening pass and lands on an extra mat that the techs positioned in the corner, then he does a few easier passes before the lights fade out on him. A spotlight pops up over the high bar, where Curt jumps up and does a few giants, a couple release moves. Then there’s Croz on parallel bars. Alex on pommel. Brady on floor. Then to finish, Bucky jumps up on high bar, the apparatus that tried to break him, just to prove a point. He does a couple of easier releases before jumping off, a single flip, nothing fancy.

It gets him a deafening round of applause anyway.

The Thunderstruck number, every night, drives a range of emotions through Bucky like a truck, for better or for worse. It shoves salt in old wounds, forces him to relive some of his worst moments. And yet it feels so damn good, in a way, just to show people – “hey, I’m here. I’m still fighting. I’m not giving up.” Just to tell them – “if you’re fighting your own uphill battle, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. You don’t have to give up.”

So yeah, it’s cathartic. It makes him feel powerful. It makes him feel in control. It makes him feel like he did something right, at the end of the day. 

But he much prefers the more lighthearted parts of their show anyway. The ideas that spawned from a bunch of friends goofing off in a gym between practices. The ones that show their personalities and let them be silly and let them be a little stupid and let them be human instead of just athletes. 

There’s a Texas Hold ‘Em number where the guys and girls all dress up in cowboy hats, the guys in white shirts and jeans and the girls in sparkly leos. 

There’s some absolutely badass dance numbers from the girls, which Bucky loves watching. They’re full of attitude and confidence that makes him a little jealous. 

Then there’s the girls’ rendition of Pink by Lizzo followed by the guys’ take on I’m Just Ken. All the guys on tour get to wear neon tank tops and shorts as they animatedly jog out onto the floor. Nearly all of them spread out and start doing stupid exercise motions: Bucky pretends to lift weights while Brady does push ups, Croz does jumping jacks, Alex does sit ups, and the others pretend to box or jog in place or something.

Meanwhile, a spotlight illuminates Curt over on the balance beam, an apparatus that none of the guys have a clue about. He stands on it, all wobbly but exuding confidence, and he salutes a judge that isn’t there before trying out some of the girls’ skills. A wolf turn, a switch leap, a side aerial. Night after night he fails pretty miserably, sometimes nearly falling off the beam all together. He gets a lot of laughs from the audience before doing a pretty pathetic dismount and running to meet the other Kens on the floor, where they join hands and passionately sing the end of the song.

Every night, none of them can keep themselves from laughing, and they often nearly mess up their choreography, tripping over themselves and trying not to double over from the ridiculousness. Usually, that’s Bucky’s favorite number to perform.

But not tonight.

“So here’s the thing, DC,” he says into his mic as he comes out from backstage, passing the girls as they exit. He walks across the floor, back in his white tee and jeans instead of his Ken fit. “We’re gonna do something a bit different tonight. ‘Cause not only is this place my home, but it’s actually my lucky day, ‘cause a special someone is in the crowd tonight. You may be able to see him, right up here in the front row where I can look at his pretty face.” He points to Gale, who’s sitting in one of the best seats in the house, just feet from the spring floor. The man in question rolls his eyes as Bucky stops at the edge of the floor, right in front of him. Beside him, Marge laughs and shoves his shoulder. Benny reaches over and ruffles his hair. 

“What’d’ya say we bring him up here?” Bucky asks the crowd.

Gale shakes his head as if he has a choice. As if they didn’t literally rehearse this earlier today. He didn’t have a choice then, either. 

“Yep, come on, beautiful.” Bucky holds his hand out expectantly, until finally, after a very pointed I hate you glare and a long-suffering sigh, Gale takes his hand, stands up, and lets Bucky lead him onto the floor. 

The camera locks onto them immediately, showing them on the big screen for the entire arena to see. Gale is dressed in dark jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a worn leather jacket, looking as perfect as ever with his messy hair and beautiful… everything. 

Usually, the next number would be a delicate, choreographed dance combined with some skill demonstrations. A love story. Literally, it’s choreographed to Taylor Swift’s “Love Story.” On a normal night, it consists of Bucky, Brady, and Croz each dancing with one of the lovely dancers they have on tour with them. The story-telling choreography is interspersed with the guys showing off some basic skills on parallel bars, high bar, and pommel horse. 

Tonight, Bucky’s dance partner gets this number off. He felt a little bad asking her if that would be okay, but the moment he explained what he wanted to do, she all but threw herself out of the mix for this one show. 

“Yes. Do that. You have to do that,” she insisted. 

And so Gale, even before he knew the plan, didn’t really have a choice. 

Gale Cleven’s moment of fame at the Paris Olympics turned into a bit more than a moment. He’s had companies fighting to sponsor him, wanting to throw him into commercials and ads all over the place. Despite his lack of interest in social media, his following has skyrocketed. Little kids are getting into horseback riding because of him. People remain obsessed with the “Clegan” love story, and they always comment on Bucky’s videos asking about Gale.

This crowd, packed with people of all ages from 3 to 93, loves him just as much. They go absolutely nuts when the camera focuses on him as he takes Bucky’s hand and they walk over to the pommel horse. “Give it up everyone!” Bucky yells into his mic. “Gale Cleven, Olympic silver medalist, your local equestrian legend, and my lovely, amazing boyfriend.”

They’re in a stadium filled with thousands of people, but the only person that can see Gale’s blush is Bucky. 

Bucky helps Gale hop up onto the pommel horse as the lights around them dim and a spotlight shines on the parallel bars to their left. The song begins to play out over the arena: “We were both young when I first saw you…”

Gale watches Croz and his partner start their dance around the base of the parallel bars. He got to watch during their rehearsal earlier today, but now he’s pulled away by the feeling of a hand wrapping over his hip. He glances over at Bucky, and his breath catches. 

They wait in the darkness for their part of the song, and as they sit together on the pommel horse, Bucky’s eyes are locked on him, even in the dim light. Shadows flit across their faces, eyes reflecting fleeting teases of the light flickering around them. Bucky has a strong arm wrapped securely around Gale, supporting his back.

He leans in close to whisper, “I’m glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure…”

Gale’s hand finds Bucky’s free one. “Don’t tell me you thought I wouldn’t come.”

Bucky shrugs. Because part of him did think that, no matter how ridiculous he knew it was. They’ve been video calling every other day since he went on tour, but it doesn’t compare to the surety of having Gale in his arms. Before Gale can say anything else, though, the lights start to rise around them at the end of the first chorus. 

“So I sneak out to the garden to see you…”

They stay sitting at first, Gale leaning into Bucky’s hold while Bucky points up at the ceiling, acting like they’re stargazing. They smile and laugh before Gale jumps off the pommel horse, still holding Bucky’s hand, and walks around to the other side, leading Bucky into a backflip off the horse.

Typically, Bucky’s part of this number is far more choreographed, seeing as his partner is usually a professional dancer. Gale Cleven… is not a dancer. So they have to improvise a little bit. Bucky’s decided it’s fine: what the audience loses in terms of seeing competent dancing, they gain in terms of seeing a real love story.

At the part that says ‘so close your eyes,’ Gale spins so his back is to Bucky, and Bucky’s hands cover his eyes. Instead of the usual sequence Bucky and his partner would do, involving lifts, rolls, dips, what have you, he simply twirls Gale around before kissing him softly – to cheers from the crowd. He takes both of Gale’s hands in his, and they spin around together, laughing the whole time as the camera records it all for the big screen.

Later, he’ll come across a video of this moment on social media, and he’ll save it to his favorites, to watch when he has a bad day.

He grabs Gale by the waist and lifts him easily up onto the end of the pommel horse, and he walks around to the other side as Gale spins around to meet him. Bucky takes his hand, kisses his knuckles gently, and helps him down again. Then Gale jogs off into the shadows, leaving Bucky to hop onto the apparatus to do some circles and flairs. 

He comes back as Bucky dismounts, and they grab onto each other’s hands from opposite sides of the pommel horse, looking into each others’ eyes. Then comes the only real original choreography that Gale agreed to do: drawing from his equestrian experience, he grabs onto the pommel and, in one swift motion, throws his leg up over the end of the pommel horse, as if he’s mounting a real horse. Bucky comes around behind him, and Gale draws his knees up so he can be lifted off the horse bridal style.

Gale can’t help but laugh as Bucky spins him around once, twice before setting him on his feet. They end up standing in front of the apparatus, pointing to the imagined sky once again as the lights around them fade out.

Cast in partial shadow as Brady and his partner dance around the high bar, they hold onto one another and spin slowly in circles, a twirl thrown in here and there. Gale whispers things like “you owe me” and Bucky replies “please, don’t act like you’re not having fun.”

“Dancing in front of thousands of people is a little outta my comfort zone.”

“They love you,” Bucky says, genuinely. Because they do.

At the end of the song, all three pairs come together on the spring floor. Bucky lifts and spins Gale one more time, and at the very end, when the other pairs look like they might kiss but stop just short, Gale is the one to lean in that last inch or two, kissing Bucky in front of thousands of people.

“Je t’aime,” he whispers as he pulls away, and it makes Bucky freeze. Je t’aime. I love you.

Whenever he hears those words, his mind still flashes to that day when he stormed Gale’s barn to declare his love after the Games were over. They’ve said it since, of course, but not often. It still feels… New. Special. Scary.

And yet Bucky wants to shout it into a hot mic for this entire stadium to hear. He won’t, but only because he knows Gale won’t like it.

And because the sound techs learned the hard way to triple check that Bucky Egan’s mic isn’t hot.

So his heart hammers in his chest as he looks into Gale’s eyes. Croz and Brady are already walking off into the shadows with their partners, but John and Gale remain center stage, Gale’s arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck and Bucky’s hands holding firmly to Gale’s waist. Like they belong there. The roar of the crowd is deafening, but all Bucky hears are Gale’s words echoing in his head.

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

He lifts a hand to cup Gale’s jaw, stroking a thumb over his flushed cheek. “I love you,” he says back, and he kind of can’t believe he had such a hard time saying it before. 

He’s on tour with some of the best gymnasts in the world, performing every night in front of thousands and thousands of fans. He’s got several Olympic medals to his name. His leg, while still not a sure thing, has healed well enough to let him do this. To have fun with his friends in the most extravagant way. To make him really believe that he might have another Olympic season left in him.

And all of that… it’s the stuff he’s hoped for since he was a kid.

It’s all enough to make him wonder if he’s dreaming sometimes. But right now, he has this moment. Right now, above all else, it’s the way Gale smiles at him that puts him on cloud nine, makes him think he did something right.

It’s that soft, just-for-him smile that lights up his world and makes him feel like he can do anything. He wants to be the reason for that smile for the rest of his life.

So he smiles back, and he says it again. “I love you.”

…

…

Here’s a shitty video of the real Love Story number

[llilychen]

it’s really sad that i always looked forward to rhaenyra and/or alicent scenes last season but i now feel the urge to fast forward every time one of them comes on screen

- every alicent scene is her looking sad or crying or her with cole but nothing she does adds anything of value to the plot

- we get the same black council scene in which the men are undermining rhaenyra twice per episode and still nothing is done (i do believe she will make some progress in the next episodes but it’s just so boring to watch her have the same scene over and over again)

cersei and dany i miss you both so much

[celiababy]

Ain't Right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You have a major (borderline obsessive) crush on Joel, and you're on a mission to fuck him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, cum eating, name calling, kinda mean Joel, alcohol, vomiting, an extremely brief mention of suicide

Disclaimer: I lowkey don't know the logistics of the show so if some things are wrong please look over it I'm just trying to write smut about Joel Miller godbless.

Ain't Right part 2

Ever since that tortured old man showed up in Jackson, your life hasn't been the same.

Tommy's older brother, and your absolute undoing.

When Joel Miller rode into town, it was like everything suddenly made sense. The skies got clearer, the air smelled better, and the birds even chirped their love songs louder.

Everything about him drew you in; his cold demeanor, stoic face, tired eyes—but gentle around those he cared about, which was only a few select people.

And you certainly were not one of those select people.

Joel didn't know what to think about you.

To him, you were odd. Yes, you were undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in Jackson, but he felt distance between the two of you was essential.

He felt this way because he knew.

Joel wasn't oblivious to your stares; he might've been an old man, but he remembered the laws of attraction fairly well.

He didn't like the thought of you liking him.

You were young, attractive, and had plenty of age-appropriate prospects just begging for your attention. Every boy in Jackson wanted a piece of you—but you only had eyes for Joel.

He was getting old and tired, ain't no reason why you should be so fond over him.

He also didn't like that you made your attraction so obvious. It made people whisper, and Joel about had enough teasing from Tommy.

"You gonna let that young thing jump your bones or what, Joel?" Is an example of the few things his brother would chirp at him whenever you were around and had eyes on him like he was a target.

So, all things considered, it's no surprise when Joel is reluctant to make a supply run with you.

You had begged Tommy to let you go out and finally start pulling your weight, carefully adding that Joel would be a great teacher for a first timer like yourself.

You stand near the truck, squeezing the straps of your backpack while watching Joel and Tommy whisper to themselves a couple feet away.

"You can't find anyone else?" Joel growls lowly, narrowing his eyes at his insufferable brother who he’d really like to strangle right now.

"Are you seriously scared of a twenty year old girl, Joel?" Tommy asked exasperatedly, throwing his arm out in disbelief. "It'll take two hours tops, what the hell are you so scared of?" Joel is exhaling through his nose, dragging a hand down his jaw in complete disgruntlement.

"You know what the hell I'm scared of Tommy—goddammit," He gets in his brother’s face before realizing you’re still watching them.

He takes a moment to back up and calm down, breathing out through his nose.

"I do not need this town thinkin' I am encouraging this girls...feelin's." He murmurs lowly.

Tommy rolls his eyes before shoving Joel's backpack into his chest.

"Just don't fuck her, Joel. How hard could it be?"

Joel watches as Tommy turns his back and walks away, leaving just you and him.

Joel had spent a lot of time making sure he was never in a situation alone with you—now he was about to be your unsupervised mentor.

He feels a groan try and crawl its way out his throat, but he pushes it down.

He starts walking to the truck, not even looking at you as he passes and yanks the driver side door open with more force than necessary.

"Let's make this quick." He grunts out, climbing inside.

You do the same, only with a little bit more enthusiasm. ***

The trip is a complete bust.

Joel barely paid you any attention, no matter how many flirty gestures you made at him.

You'd say something remotely suggestive and he'd either glare at you, or just flat out ignore you.

But you were relentless. Giving up on him wasn't in the cards for you, no matter how many judgmental looks he casted your way.

You guys had been driving back to town for around five minutes; Joel has kept his eyes firmly on the road in fear of you sparking a conversation with him.

But you do anyways.

You turn your body to face him in the bench seat, your eyes cascading down his breath-taking side profile.

You zoned in on the gray patches of his beard, and how his face had the remnants of a long, unforgiving life weaved into his wrinkles and scars.

You're momentarily rendered speechless by his looks before he side-eyes you.

"What?" He huffs out, not being able to handle your intense stare any longer.

"Why not?"

A beat.

"What?" He asks again, his brows furrowing together, an annoyed and confused expression painting his features.

"Why won't you fuck me?"

Joel physically winces at your language, scoffing in what looks to be disgust as he starts shaking his head.

"We're not starting this." He snaps firmly, a tone in his voice that you haven't heard before.

Completely disregarding his words, you start.

"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?" Joel groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Is it because there's someone else?" He's close to snapping. "Is it because you can't get it up? I heard thats a problem with guys your age-"

Joel slams on the brakes, sending you lurching forward. He shoves the truck into park before turning to face you, a scary look on his face.

"I am not going to fuck you--Christ almighty," Joel raises his voice at you.

You're staring at him, wide eyes and lips parted in surprise. You weren't really expecting this.

"you're bustin' my fuckin' balls, Look kid," He starts up again, this time with a softer tone. "M'about 40 years too old for you-"

You cut him off with a murmur. "36, I did the math."

"Same damn thing," he snaps, shaking his head. "Point is—you don't needa be wastin' your time with me; there are plenty boys your age that will satisfy your...you."

You scoff in his face but try to disguise it by clearing your throat.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Joel," You start, a sad smile spreading across your lips. "S'just sex." You say with a shrug, blush coating your cheeks because now your mind is imagining sex with him.

He stays silent and looks away from you, closing his eyes like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

That urges you to say more.

"I won't tell anyone," You're practically whispering, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me."

Joel's heart cinches in his chest at your words, mostly because he can tell you're being so genuine.

Why the hell did you like him so much? He just couldn’t understand it.

But he can't entertain this any longer because he knows if he did, he'd give into you.

"I don't wanna hear another goddamn word outta your mouth." Joel says in a strikingly even and calm tone, putting the truck into drive and continuing back.

He's eerily silent, and so is the rest of the trip because you're too dejected to speak.

Eventually, you both arrive home and you're fast to get out of the truck.

You slam the door and keep your head down as you walk away, snow crunching beneath your boots.

Joel takes his time, watching you storm off with tired eyes.

He feels bad for being so rough on you, but he figured it was the only way to get you to stop liking him.

Tommy walks up, a concerned look on his face as he looks back between you and Joel.

"Guessin' you didn't fuck her."

***

Nobody had seen you in days.

The pain of rejection had you in a mental place that you had never experienced before.

No one has ever denied you—ever.

The situation was 100x worse considering you actually liked Joel, and he wasn't just another toy to play with.

Joel figured his life would get easier with you not around, and it kinda did in some aspects.

But he couldn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt slowly eating at him like a parasite.

He'd been cruel to you in the way he went about things, and he felt bad.

Had he really broken your heart? He didn't know you liked him that much.

He sits in his living room, contemplating how to go about this entirely fucked up situation.

He debates making amends with you, apologizing and rejecting you again but in a gentler way.

He deliberates on his plan of action while nursing a glass of whiskey before he's interrupted by three bangs on his front door, followed by a screeching: "JOEL"

He mutters a 'what the fuck' under his breath, walking to the door and picking his 9mil up on the way.

His eyes widen when he sees you-standing there in all your glory.

It's the middle of winter and snowing like hell, yet you're wearing shorts and a tank top with a beer bottle in your hand.

"Jesus, kid-what the fuck," Joel ushers you inside quickly, taking his big jacket off the coatrack and draping it over you.

He also tosses his gun to the side, obviously you were no threat.

"You tryin' to get frostbit? Christ," he's swearing and muttering profanities as he guides you over to the couch, now basically swaddling you in blankets.

You've never been inside his house before, only ever walked passed it a few times. It smells like him.

You, however, smell like alcohol and bad decisions.

Joel picked up on how drunk you were the minute you stumbled through the door. He takes the bottle from your hand and sets it aside somewhere, glaring at you like how a mad parent would.

"The hell are you doin' out in the snow like that? Fuckin' death wish or somethin'?"

His words are kinda fuzzy in your ears, you're so drunk that you barely even register them.

An unprompted giggle spills from your lips as you shake your head at him.

"It's not snowing silly," You chide, making him out to be an idiot when, in actuality, it's a damn blizzard outside.

He knows from that statement alone that you are way off your rocker tonight.

"How much have ya had to drink, kid?" Joel asks, raking a hand through his graying hair.

"Don't call me kid," You snap, a quick flash of anger in your expression. "M'not a kid."

Joel rolls his eyes so hard that he probably caused a tsunami on the other side of the world.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. What are you doin’ here?” He asks exasperatedly, dragging a hand down his jaw while looking at your trembling figure.

There’s a long pause before you answer. You just got distracted by his big brown eyes.

“Jus’ wanted to say hi.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from his face.

“Say hi?” He reiterates, looking at you like you’ve actually lost your mind.

You probably have.

After a moment, Joel can’t help but chuckle in disbelief, letting his body lean back against the couch.

The absurdity of it all turned humorous to him.

Here you are, sitting in his living room, practically nude with only his coat and blankets protecting your modesty, having just trekked through the snow all for what? To say hey?

You’re still sitting there, motionless and trying to remember how to breathe because his laughing face has your heart lighting off fireworks.

“Fuckin’ hell—hi.” Is all he says, turning his head to the side to look at you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You smile like a dope at him, so extremely happy to be there in his company.

But the alcohol in your system is fighting you, and you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“S’it cool if I say the nigh?” You slur, falling vertically on the couch, your head crashing onto Joel’s thigh.

You nuzzle your cheek against the fabric of his jeans and Joel is just about to gently push you off, but he stops himself.

You look so comfortable and so at peace that Joel can’t do anything except stare at you.

Your cheek is slightly smushed, your lips are parted, your eyes are shut and don’t plan on opening—it’s insane to him how at home you looked.

Like you belonged here, head rested on his lap.

Fuck.

He was fucked this time.

He doesn’t move you. Instead, he fixes the blankets on top of you so you’re fully covered, and sits there with you the entire night.

He’s really gone soft.

***

When morning comes, you’re first to wake up, accompanied by a splitting headache.

You don’t even notice how Joel’s hand had fallen onto your waist some time during the night because you’re too busy making a b-line for the bathroom.

You chuck your guts up into the toliet, clutching the porcelain and groaning out in pain.

Joel wakes up to the sound of your hurling, momentarily disoriented before he remembers last nights events.

He’s quick to come to your aid in the bathroom, wasting no time gathering your hair in his fist to get it out of your face.

"S'right, get it all out," He murmurs out encouragingly, seemingly unfazed by the disheveled sight of you.

You’re too sick to be embarrassed, that’ll come later surely.

He sits on the wall of the tub as he continues holding your hair back, yawning every now and then like this was just a regular Tuesday morning.

Eventually, by the mercy of God, you get it all out of your system and slump up against the wall.

“M’sorry,” You immediately apologize, figuring that is the only right move in this situation.

“Don’t be. Been through plenty'a that in my day.”

His words are uncharacteristically reassuring and you find yourself taken back by them.

You soon realize this is probably just the hazy morning Joel, the Joel where he isn't worried about anything except coffee and breakfast—like everything wrong in his life is put on the back burner for this short minute in time.

“I’ll get you some water and Advil, sit tight.” He grunts before standing up on his feet, knees popping as he walks out.

You watch as he leaves, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Aside from the vomit part, you could get used to this.

You've never seen him so...domestic. His hair was all messy, his voice was raspy, he had that morning haze over his features that you felt so honored to witness.

You suddenly felt compelled to look at your own appearance, hopping to your feet and looking in the dirty mirror.

You resist the urge to audibly gasp at your reflection, opting for a disgusted look instead.

Your hair is a rats nest, your clothes are a mess, and your mascara has rubbed off in black smudge all over the skin around your eyes.

In a desperate attempt to look at least semi-presentable, you wash your face with water and comb through your hair with your fingers.

The idea that Joel had seen you looking like that was making your stomach churn again.

Before you can grovel about it any longer, he rounds the corner with a glass of water and little brown pills in his hand.

“Here,” He says softly, handing you the water and tilting the pills into your open palm. “Take these ‘n drink all that water and ya should get to feelin’ better.”

You do as he says, swallowing the Advil in one go before taking a big sip to wash it down.

His eyes drift down to your shoulder, where your tank top strap has fallen. No doubt from all that vigorous throwing up you were doing moments ago.

Without thinking, his fingers graze your forearm before bringing the strap back up to its correct position, clearing his throat in the process.

A beat of silence falls over the both of you.

You’re gobsmacked by the complete nonchalance of his touch, staring at him with your mouth slightly open in shock.

“What?” He asks defensively, his tone pointed.

You look between him and your shoulder strap, then slowly move to set your water down.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck?”

“Goddammit—” Joels cursing before you can even finish saying the last word in your sentence.

He turns away from you, probably the fastest you’ve seen anyone turn in their life, and walks towards his room with an accelerating pace.

He shakes his head in disbelief all the way down the hall, pivoting on his heel to duck into his bedroom.

You follow him, not really fazed by how he completely refused to answer your question, though you didn’t think he would anyway.

Before you can step foot into the threshold of his room, Joel walks out, causing you to back up.

He shoves a stack of clothes in your direction, looking down at you with a frustrated face. “Put these clothes on and go home.”

You look down, realizing he was letting you borrow a sweater and jeans of his so you didn’t die walking back to your house from the cold.

Your heart warms at this thoughtfulness.

Without wasting any time, you take the clothes from his hands, smiling happily. “Can I keep them?”

“Why the hell would you wanna keep my clothes?” He’s got that confused/angry look on his face as he asks, and you have to suppress a giggle at the sight of it.

You bring the pieces of fabric up to your nose and inhale, humming as you breathe out again. “They smell like you.”

“Christ,” Joel beings his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Fine, do whatever. Just hurry up and change, jesus,"

Ever the tease, you set down his clothes and begin to lift your tank top like you planned to change right in front of him.

Joel's hands shoot out to stop you, a 'don't try me,' look on his face.

"Put them on over your clothes," Joel says sternly, watching the way you sigh because you weren't fast enough in lifting your tank top off.

However, you sieze the opportunity in front of you.

Joel's hands are holding yours down, so you work to intertwine your fingers, invading his space by stepping forward.

"Or, you could take my clothes off," You purr, your chest now flush with his torso.

Joel exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried deciding how he was going to get out of this situation.

But then he paused.

Looking down at you now, so eager and wide eyed, made him wonder.

If he fucked you, and made you realize it wasn't what you were probably imagining in your head, maybe then you'd finally leave him alone.

He would just...pretend to be awful at sex.

(Even though it had been so long and he wasn't sure if he'd actually need to 'pretend' anymore.)

There's a long silence that drags out between the both of you.

Your stomach is doing flips because it's looking like he's finally going to agree.

His resolve cracks and Joel can't do anything but sigh in defeat.

Slowly, Joel pulls you back into his room, closing the door behind you both.

Time is moving in slow motion.

You can't believe it's finally happening.

He guides you back until the back of your knees hit his bed, prompting you to sit down on it.

"I'm only going to do this once," Joel's voice is uncharacteristically low and calm, and it has your core tightening.

You nod in acknowledgement, waiting to see what he's going to do next.

With care, he pushes your shoulder down so you're laying on your back. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks, brown eyes searching yours.

"Have I not made it obvious?" You quip, a giggle following shortly after.

Joel only shakes his head before his fingers latch around the fabric of your shorts, pulling them down and off your legs.

"S'pose you have." He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck.

You're vibrating with excitement and you repeat what you tried earlier, only this time succeeding with taking your top off.

Of course, you're not wearing a bra.

Joel realizes in that moment that he bit off way more than he could chew.

He hasn't seen breast that weren't on a soggy piece of paper in at least a few years, and yours--well, his cock stood no chance.

You hear him swallow, watching as he can't seem to stop staring at your chest.

Realizing that he might need a little encouragement to start speeding things along, you smile up at him and whisper, "touch me Joel".

Yeah, screw this. His plan of pretending to be bad was now entirely forgotten—he was going to do what he wanted, so help him god.

He huffs out a curse before sliding a hand up your torso, stopping once he's fully cupped one of your breasts in one hand. He kneads it like dough while using his other hand to disappear under your panties.

A choked moan erupts from your lips once you feel his fingers brush along your clit, rubbing around and spreading your slick around all too slowly.

"haven't even done anythin' yet and you're already fuckin' soaked..." He murmurs really to just himself, his eyes casting down to watch as he rips your underwear off impatiently.

"M'always like this whenever you're around," you mewl to spur him on, spreading your legs wider.

"Oh you are, huh?" Joel repeats back, the tiniest bit of cruelty in his tone that makes you shiver.

You nod, bucking your hips into his hand desperately.

"don't get why you like an old man like me, s'gross." His tone is flat but it's clear he's teasing by the way he curls his fingers inside of you. He's not really expecting a response, but you feel compelled.

You lurch forward, gasping at the feeling. "I really like you," You rush out breathlessly. "I'd do anything you wanted me to." You say earnestly as you stare into his eyes, loving what you're seeing.

Joel remembers when you told him that the first time, his heart cinching the same way it did then.

Joel is at war with himself. One side of him is screaming that this whole situation is fucked up and he is better off without you.

Another part of him thinks that this is the most he’s ever felt in a long time. And he doesn't want to lose it.

You can see the gears turning in his head. His fingers have slipped from you and you wince at the loss.

Slowly, you sit up. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your nipples pressing into his shirt.

He's confused and momentarily panicked when your faces get so close together, his hands seeking purchase on your hips.

In an unexpected move, you rake your hands through the side of his hair, looking lovingly at his face.

"I just wanna be someone for you," You murmur, your face breaking a little as Joel's resolve also cracks. "Doesn't matter what. I'm very versatile." You mumble the last part to try and lighten the mood.

Joel just stares at you—something swimming behind his eyes that you can't quite place.

Eventually, he crashes his forehead against yours, sighing out.

"You're makin' this fuckin' impossible." He rasps before kissing you with a passion you've never felt before.

You feel victorious.

He's finally given in to you.

Eagerly, you kiss back, wrapping your legs around his torso and grinding your bare cunt against the bulge in his jeans.

"Then stop trying so hard to get rid of me," You sigh out, chasing his lips even as you're trying to speak.

He groans and you catch it in your mouth, the pressure on his clothed cock making him dizzy.

“Fuck,” He’s quick to unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it somewhere on the floor. “Lay back.” He demands and you immediately follow suit.

He's never been that...assertive with you before. It makes you tingle all over.

He looks starved as he peers down at you, specifically your cunt.

He literally can’t tear his eyes off your sex—he only looks up to your gaze when you let out an impatient whine.

He rips down his pants, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

Now you can’t tear your eyes away from his sex.

You’ve only dreamt it so many times, but now that it’s finally in front of you—it all just feels surreal.

It’s better than you imagined, perfect.

“I don’t have a—”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off immediately. “S’okay, like it raw. Closer to you that way.” You murmur.

Joel looks physically pained that he’s not inside you right now. For some reason, you just know all the right things to say.

“Closer to me?” He huffs out, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the bed where he stood.

Now your cunt is flush with the base of his member and the sensation drives you both insane. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Joel rasps, but the way he says it reveals just how far he’s fallen. He knows you’re crazy, and yet here he is, balancing you out.

He glides his member back and forth against your folds, gathering up your wetness with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

He looks so concentrated—meanwhile you’re writhing with pleasure and impatience. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs to himself, eyes tracing all over you.

You freeze.

Joel had complimented you for the first time, and it was genuine.

He notices you stiffen and takes a moment to pause.

Your entire body erupts with goosebumps, your heart beating at exceptionally fast speeds.

He's worried for a second that something is horribly wrong.

“What?” He asks, confused at what’s got you so wound up.

Your face is flushed red as you bashfully giggle. “You called me pretty.”

Ah fuck.

Joel finds you so charming it hurts.

After he remembers how to breathe again, he rolls his eyes and clears his throat.

“I have my cock to your cunt, of course I find you pretty.”

You smile and shrug. “Still. Nice to hear.” You’re all smiles until his tip prods at your entrance, causing a gasp to leave your throat.

He continues to apply pressure with his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

“Fuck Joel—are you trying to kill me?” You whine, hips wiggling to get him in.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Relax, m’almost there.”

Slowly, he begins pushing his way inside. His mushroom head breaches you entirely and it feels like you can hear the angels singing.

He continues forward, the stretch being mainly around the middle of his thick cock.

But you’re taking it like a champ.

Joel braces himself with hands on both sides of your torso as he bottoms out, a groan crawling its way out of his throat.

The sensation is absolutely delicious.

A little bit of pain from the stretch, but so much pleasure from the fullness.

“Joel, ohmygod you feel so good inside me.” You moan, throwing your head back.

Your hips start moving on their own, but he immediately stops you with two large hands.

“D-Don’t move—fuck.” Joel grumbles out, his face pinched together in what looked like pain.

You’re confused for a moment, thinking maybe that he might just be really into cockwarming.

But then it hits you.

“Were you gonna come?” The tone in your voice makes it seem like you’d be elated if that was the case—like the most flattering thing in the world.

Joel looks pissed that you caught on so quick.

In truth, the moment he put his tip in, he was holding back his orgasm.

Can you blame him? He’s only fucked his hand for the last couple years.

“S’been a while.” Is all he can say, his chest heaving up and down in concentration. You know he’s embarrassed, but you can’t help but smile like a dope at him.

“If you come, please do it inside, please,” you beg, reaching out for his arms that caged you in.

Joel's rational mind feels like it just touched down in looney town after hearing your begging.

He feels crazy because he liked the thought of the idea you proposed. You even see him hesitate. But then he scoffs and shakes his head.

Joel drops down closer to your face, slowly starting to rock his hips into you. "Tryin' to baby trap me, girl?" He grunts in your ear, making you moan out.

Your walls are clenching down on him, and it’s making it that much harder to hold back. “No-no, promise, just wanna be full of you." You manage to blubber out...unconvincingly.

You probably didn't really want a baby with Joel, but your lust-driven brain was working on fumes and you just wanted to do what felt good.

Joel's grunting in your ear was not helping things. His fingers were gripping your hip so hard, you figured it would probably bruise tomorrow

Good. You wanted whatever he would give you.

"Christ--m'not gonna last much longer," Joel groans, picking his head up a little to meet your gaze. He wanted to kick himself for not being able to last, but when he saw your face, all those feelings disappeared.

You looked so--perfect. Soaking up the moment in case it was the last, god you hoped it wasn't the last time. Now that you've finally had a tase of him, you weren't sure you could live without it.

Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him firmly in your cunt. Joel notices this and also your pleading eyes, a growl leaving his throat.

"Please, please, please, please," you beg, never breaking eye contact with him as his thrusts pick up speed.

He ruins your long string with pleas with a needy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat like a starving man.

You accept it happily, moaning out into the kiss while Joel manhandles your hips to take his cock.

The feeling is damn near euphoric for both you and him. It gets even better when Joel's hand comes down to rub at your clit again.

Your back arches off the bed as you gasp and moan out, wrapping your arms back around his shoulders. "F-Fuck!" You moan into his ear, probably drooling on his shoulder in the process. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-" you sputter out in choked sobs. He was really good at working on your clit, you couldn't do anything else but thank him for it.

Joel feels a surge of something when he hears you. He's never had a woman thank him in bed before.

It's enough to push him over the edge. And apparently you too.

"I'm gonna come Joel, please don't stop," There are pools of tears in your eyes that Joel is just now noticing. He's about to reply to you, but he finds himself speechless when he feels your cunt start constricting and fluttering around him like a vice.

"Fuck!" He groans out loudly, his hips starting to falter in their rhythm. But then he picks up speed again, and in no time he's like a madman jackhammering into you.

You're a mess of screams and cries and moans underneath him, happily taking everything he was giving you.

When Joel feels himself about to come, he notices how your legs are still tightly wrapped around him, keeping him inside, and he manages to scoff out.

"Gotta let me go baby," You've never heard that pet name from him before, and it makes you crumble. His hands move to grab at your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

You whine out but reluctantly release the grip your legs had on him. Joel doesn't waste time before hugging both your legs on his chest, keeping them firmly placed while your feet squirmed by his ear.

"Atta girl," he murmurs before picking up speed again, his cock head pressing into your cervix.

It's all too much for you. Joel looks so amazing pounding into you from above, his concentrated face, his sweat, the way his salt and pepper hair is all disheveled, you're losing your mind.

Your core is on fire and you can't stop yourself.

In a staggering turn of events, you come first.

Your walls come down like bricks on his dick, you cry out, throwing your head back in complete bliss and ecstasy.

Seeing and feeling this, Joel is quick to follow in your steps. He rips himself from that warm hole of yours and pumps himself dry onto your stomach.

You watch it all with wide eyes, you wouldn't have missed Joel's orgasm face for the world!

Of course, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth was open as he was breathing heavily, and his eyebrows turned down like he was mad.

God he was so beautiful.

His thick ropes of cum shoot all over your stomach and even your breasts as he jerks himself off to completion.

When he finishes, he takes a moment to catch his breath, finally opening his eyes to see you scoop up his cum from your breast with your finger and shove it in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around his seed and you swallow eagerly, humming out in satisfaction at the taste of him.

Joel's watching in complete fascination, though his expression looks a little angry. When does it not?

"taste so good," you mumble with your finger still in your mouth, looking up at him with your big eyes.

He moves before he can think about it--ripping your hand away from your lips and caging you in a slow but deep kiss.

He soon falls down beside you and soon rolls over onto his back, his chest rising and falling from the excursion.

You curl into his side, watching his side profile so intently. You had just fucked Joel Miller.

And it was everything you had dreamed of. Extreme happiness doesn't even begin to describe your feelings right now.

There's a long stretch of silence that drapes over the both of you. Eventually, Joel breaks it with something extremely off topic.

"Last night...you didn't just come here to say 'hi', did you?"

You're momentarily speechless, not expecting that question from him at all. But you can't stop a giggle from coming through your lips.

"Actually, I came to confront you." Your voice is soft as you begin speaking, thinking back to last night's ordeal.

Joel doesn't expect this answer, his head turns to look at you while you speak. His arm comes down to drape over your shoulder.

"I was really upset cus you rejected me n'all. I just couldn't accept the whole, 'age gap' excuse. I wanted to know if you just really didn't like me or not." You're murmuring, drawing soft lines with your finger on the skin of Joel's chest.

He huffs out a breath at the explanation, shaking his head. "Guess you got your answer, huh." He grumbles out, somewhat ashamed of himself that he couldn't hold back.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I did," you chirp happily, admiring his face again. "You know you're gonna have to fuck me, like, everyday now, right?"

You're kidding. But you're also not at all.

Joel scoffs and sits up, moving to pick up both his and your shirts. "Fat chance. Barely had enough stamina for one round." He grunts out, finding the neck hole in your tank top and putting it over your head for you.

You don't bother to pull it down over your breasts so Joel does it for you.

"It's okay, we can build up your tolerance over time." You quip with a teasing smile, loving the way Joel turned to glare a you.

He couldn't believe the youth these days.

[sleep-0-deprived]

can i ask for the yan!roommate's reaction to the reader finding the camera in the bathroom and purposefully jacking off in front of it?

just found out about this blog and i am already hyped we need more subby yans in the world

Yandere roommate imagines (sub Yandere oc) ~!

A/N so the Yandere is just a random Oc you can imagine it as whoever I just needed a name for the fic! And you’re totally right there aren’t nearly enough sub Yandere as I’d like <33

Imagine you just got home from the gyms and all you wanna do is get into your shower you don’t have many other thoughts in your brain, you would have used the shower at the game but you have a “problem”~ between your legs and you knew you had to get home.

Imagine, you’re stripping your clothes cutting the hot water on as the mirror begins to fog up, your cock pressing to your stomach with precum oozing from the slit as you step in the shower running your fingers through your hair letting out a quiet grunt. You notice something from the corner of your eye when you’re looking up at the shower head, confused you reach for it picking it up you realize it’s a camera.

Imagine you already know who put the camera there I mean how could you not? There was only one man you knew creepy enough to wanna watch you shower and that was you’re roommate, and you know you felt a little generous you thought since you were already hard why not give him a show.

Imagine you sit the camera on a bath shelf and start speaking “I know you’re watching me Lucas” you grin as you bend down a little making sure your face was in full view as you use one hand to run down giving your pec a firm squeeze before gripping at your shaft giving one long stroke. On the other end of the camera Lucas sat in his room in the shared apartment nearly going feral when he sees your hand on your cock.

Imagine his face all red laying originally across his bed he soon gets up hurriedly trapping his laptop making sure the door was locked as he shakily grips the device for dear life feeling himself already aroused by the sight of you touching yourself, wanting nothing more than for your cock to be stuffed inside him as he rubs himself up against his matress letting out a few whines of desperation.

Imagine your hand holding your cock pointed straight at the camera giving him the perfect shot of your veins pulsing beneath your fingers while you bite at your bottom lip “didn’t know u had a total creep of a roommate, Lucas?~” you coo hazily standing in the shower the water running down your body down past your thighs with a few heaves meanwhile Lucas on the other hand wasn’t nearly as calm.

Imagine his hands fumbling with his zipper sitting the laptop on his bed as he pulls his boxers down placing the laptop on his pillows in front of his face as he drools, two fingers shoved between his lips with him laying on his stomach removing his fingers with them all coated in spit as he presses them to his rim pressing one finger in moving it in sync with your hand imagining it was your cock inside him as adrenaline fills his head making his body numb to the pleasure only becoming more infatuated with you each second as he murmurs out “y-es~” over and over.

Imagine when you cum you make sure your cock head is pointed directly at the camera lens, wanting him to see your red, angry looking tip when you climax. Your body tensing up intentionally not letting him see the face you make when you orgasm, only attempting to further tease your roommate with what he can’t seem to fully grasp hold of, which is you. “Hope you enjoyed my little show Lucas”

Imagine when Lucas sees that he’s in a whole other world of need, if he was feral before it was like he was a rabbit in the middle of heat because he pulled his hands away from himself with a little gasp while getting up not even bothering to turn his computer off, pouncing on you as soon as you make it to your bedroom with his brain all fuzzy and fast from your menacing taunts pulling your towel off.

Imagine your night ending with your roommate on top of you his thighs straddling you with his hands gripping your shoulders tightly mewling his lips all parted wide and his eyes half lidded and rolled back glossed over while he erratically lifts himself over and over again riding you harshly even when he feels like his rim is on fire from being stretched so long, you give his ass cheek a slap punching the ref handprint grumbling in his ear “this was what you wanted right?” As you hold his hip tightly grounding yourself deeper inside him pressing to his prostate roughly “then take it Lucas”

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

You belong to me

Paring: upper ranks + Muzan x Fem!reader

Synopsis: In different pov's, their jealously turn them a bit crazy

Content: possessiveness, jealousy, hinted smut, choking, fave grabbing, slight blood play, demon reader in Akaza, Nakime and kokushibo's part, kidnapping on Douma and Muzan's part, escape attempt, Muzan grabs you by the neck like that one guy in 365 days lol, arranged marriage theme on Muzans part

A/n: yall know that song by the weeknd? had to write some possessive jealous shit based on that song with some demons! WHAAAA I NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!🥴might do one with the hashira next🤭

Akaza

Akaza is known to not like his fellow upper ranks. You've seen it first hand when Muzan allowed you to attend an upper rank meeting since you became a demon by Akaza. He hated them all with a passion. Especially the ones ranked above him. With this knowledge, what in the hell possessed you to give any of them your attention?

Not just any upper rank, either. Douma in particular. In your defense, once Douma starts speaking, it's hard to shoo him off, especially given that you're much weaker than Douma is, so you play along to keep your reputation on a good note. You simply smile and nod at his nonsense. You knew Akaza wasn't going to step in since he'd rather run in the sunlight than talk to Douma if you were on your own.

How wrong you thought you were. Once Muzan actually left, Douma become more bold. Asking you personal questions, standing to close and even about to hold your hand, but before you could answer, you heard the sounds of blood splatter on the floor. Your eyes widened at how quick Douma's arm was severed.

"Oh, come now, lord Akaza. I was just joking-" "Shut up for once." Akaza snarled at douma in pure disgust. You wanted to say something, but you felt your feet leave the ground. Akaza had grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder and walked away from Douma while holding you. It always amazed you just how fast he was, but you knew how mad he was. The anger was just raiding off Akaza.

Akaza made sure to be far away from the other upper ranks in the infinitely castle and walked into one of the many empty rooms. Akaza put you down, but then, he backed you up against the wall. You felt your back press flat with your hands on the wall as well, giving how close he was to you. "Lord Akaza, please don't read too much into it. Douma was just being an idiot. " You tried to explain, but Akaza wasn't having any of it.

Akaza raised his brow. "So you're defending him?" His voice rasped as he tilted his head to the side. "No.." Your tone softened and looked at Akaza, worried since that wasn't your intentions. "I don't think I've made myself clear enough if my actions haven't shown it already." Akaza said and brought his hand to your collar bone and rested it there for a moment.

"Demon's I hate don't get the right to talk to who belongs to me." Akaza's face comes closer to yours with his lips now inches away from yours. His hand moves from your collar bone, up to wrap around your throat. "And you entertain a demon like him. Even saying his name from these lips. His fucking, name" Akaza's jaw clenched, and his hand tightens kts grip on your throat.

"Aka..za" his name hitched in your throat. His grip was deadly. You could still breathe. However, Akaza's grip was firm. He wouldn't dare kill his precious demon. It was just a "light" punishment. However, he needed you to learn your lesson and to show your loyalty to him and him alone. "Say my name properly. Or is my strength too much for you to speak?" Akaza smirked.

"L-lord Akaza. Lord Akaza~" you say his mamw twice. The second time you say it, you let out a heavy gasp as akaza lossend his grip on your throat. "You belong to me. Understood?" Akaza asked, keeping that eye contact and tightening his hand around your throat if you dared to look away. You nod quickly, your eyes almost teary from the slight lack of oxygen, and you watch Akaza's lips curl into another smirk.

"Good girl." He chuckled and gave you a kiss.

Nakime

Your girlfriend, Nakime, had summoned you to the infinitely castle. It's her job to always summon the 12 kizuki at the request of Muzan. Naturally, you felt terrified but remained to have a calm once you were summoned. However, Muzan was nowhere to he seen. Just Nakime, sitting there, a level above, and you looked up at her in confusion.

"Pardon for speaking out of turn, but where is lord Muzan," you asked, assuming it was him who wanted to speak with you, but it turns out that wasn't the case. "It was I who summoned you." Nakime spoke, her tone a bit quiet yet blunt. You chuckled and cut the formal introduction since Muzan isn't here, and you can speak freely since it's just you and your girlfriend.

"You do know it's probably a bad idea to summon me since you're taking me away from my work. Search of the blue spider lily and all." You grinned at Nakime and palced your hand on your hip. "I was keeping an eye on you. One of upper 4's clones has gotten closer to you. Haven't he? " Nakima said. You detected slight irritation in her voice, mentioning one of Hantengu's clones, but instead of asking a question for a question, you always knew it was better to answer her first.

"Ah, Urogi, yes. I wouldn't say we are close. However, he's a fun demon to work with. He likes to have a bit of joy and humor on our search," you answered. It isn't abnormal for Nakime to use her blood demon art this way. Especially since she's on the lookout to find the ubuyashiki family in the demon slayer core. Still, you couldn't hide your smile knowing Nakime was most likely thinking about you and wanted to check in on you.

"I forbid you to speak to him. Your task is to look for the spider lily. Not entertain each other with humorous jokes and touching," Nakime said. Her words made your heart spot for a moment and knew exactly what she was talking about. Urogi has always been proud of his sharp talons and would often tease you with them, but on this mission, he wanted to take it up a notch and poked your cheek.

To you, it was a wholesome moment. Urogi was just teasing, nothing different he dosnt do to the others, but Nakima had to see that, and she was furious. Urogi only touched you once in a playful manner, and it was enough for her to use her blood demon art to summon her back to you in that very moment. "He was getting too close to you for my liking and being bold enough to do that. Especially bringing those filthy claws of his to touch my woman's pretty face."

During this entire time, her facial expression remained unchanged until now. You could see her lips form into a frown and even watched as her teeth clenched together in a snarl. She was jealous. "Urogi was just being playful. I wouldn't read too deep into it, love. Sekido is probably scoling Urogi right now for wasting time to focus on finding the blue spider lily." You reassure Nakima, but she wouldn't let it go.

"Come here." Nakime took her biwa off her lap and rested it gently beside her on the floor and motioned her finger for you to come sit in front of her. You did as Nakime asked and sat down in front of her. You wanted to explain further to find the right words to reassure Nakime, but before you could, her hand grabbed your face

You gasped. Your breathing became unsteady as you felt her firm grip, her four fingers on one cheek while the other had her thumb, or rather her nail, poking onto your skin. The same spot Urogi poked at. "I will not allow a man's to touch to linger on what belongs to me." Nakime's voice turned cold. "You belong to me." She said as her thumb nail pressed harder, breaking your skin until blood slowly pours out.

Your jaw opens, and you inhale a sharp breath with your eyes barely open as you feel the sting. You're a demon, so of course it'll heal, and Nakime didn't pierce too deep. It was her way of wanting to hear her words come out of your mouth. You kept your eyes on her and eventually spoke up. "I belong to you~" Your voice hitched as you felt nails nail pull away from your skin.

Nakime leaned in closer to lick the blood from your cheek and watched as your cut healed already. She kissed your cheek and then came closer to your ear and whispered, "That's right. You belong to me, beautiful." Nakime said. Her hand lets go of your face and then trails her sharp nails down your neck.

You shivered until her fingers reached your kimono, near your tits and Nakime smirked. "I should remind you of how a woman's touch feels. So you'll never let another man touch you again," Nakime said. You bit your lip softly, feeling the heat rise higher in your body and your thighs squeezing together more. "I want that," you said, and Nakime's smirk only grew.

"Open your thighs for me and lay back. I'll show you how good these fingers work other than playing a biwa"

Kokushibo

His brother has been dead for centuries. Yet his name still echos throughout history but never would kokushibo think that his brothers name, yoriichi, would leave your lips.

Although you're a demon now and have been for a while now, you could still recount memories you had during your times as a human, especially in the demon slayer core. It was basically a law for any of the 12 kizuki to never speak of Yoriichis' name, yet you just had to talk about him since gyokko was curious to know how humans thought of him.

"Yoriichi has sun breathing. That's the best way to describe why he's well known even after his death. He could kill any demon in seconds. It's quite impressive," you admit to gyokko, and he nods his head, humming in response. Kokushibo had already been looking for you, but he never interrupted any of your conversations when you had them. However, hearing Yoriichis' name from you alone set him off to act out.

He came from around the coner and stood behind you. "Do I think yoriichi could beat Kokushibo? Well maybe-" you said but then saw both of gyokko's mouths open as he looked behind you. Your brow raised in question, and you turned around to see what shook him so much, but now you realized. "Kokushibou hi" you smiled nervously at him.

"It was good talking to you, bye!!!" Gyokko hides inside his pot, probably in another one by now, so it was just kokushibo and you. "Listen, I was just- oh!" Kokushibou picked you up, and then you heard Nakime's biwa sound, transporting you back to his home. You knew you fucked up. You and gyokko tried to talk in secret, but now kokushibo was going to punish you, a demon for speaking about yoriichi but in his own way.

Kokushibo put you down, turning your body away from him to face the wall with your body pushed up against it. You grunted from the sudden pressure but gasped once your hair was pulled back to face kokushibo. The view was upside down, but you could see just how angry he was. "You know to refrain from using that name. Have you lost your mind?" Kokushibou said, his deep voice almost turning into a growl.

His hand had a fist full of your hair, and not only that, his lower half was just inches away from pressing up against you. "I know- I was just telling memories from my human life I didn't think it was a big deal-" "and you actually believe a person like him could defeat me. Do you really think that? Dose his name interest you so much that you've forgotten just who's wife you belong to?" Kokushibou said.

You had a confused look on your face. Is he seriously jealous at the mention of his brother's name from his lover? You knew kokushibo was jealous, but you didn't expect him to be this possessive. "I'm sorry~" This is all you could mutter out. "Do not. Ever say that name. Again." Kokushibou crouches down to your ear, speaking slow for his words to be understood.

You mewl softly, biting your lip as you nod quickly, understand his words. "My name should be the only name said from those lips." Kokushibou now brought his other hand up to your chin and holding it while his other hand is still gripping your hair. Your back arches just a bit more once you felt Kokushibou press himself up against your ass.

He let out a heavy breath with a deep moan mixed in. "Having your jaw broken for speaking his name is the normal punishment from lord Muzan, since you're a demon and it'd grow back." Kokushibou grinds himself against, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your tit.

"However, I have my own punishment. Just for you." Kokushibo's breaths become heavy, feeling himself get into heat, and he whispered in your ear.

"A punishment where you'll never remember to say his name and only mine. You belong to me, my pretty demon~"

Douma

His "church" wasn't a church at all. You made the dumbest mistake to have even joined this religious cult. Your "savor", the one who saved you that day from eating eaten like an animal from a group of demons and showing you such kindness was just a cover-up for his true identity, which was a man-eating demon and not just any demon, the 2nd highest rank in 12 strong demons led by an even more powerful demon. The realization sunk in, and you made an ever worse choice than the first one.

You wanted to escape. You wanted out. You thought you planned your escape for a week, asking around what Douma's schedule was like so you knew the perfect days on when to leave, but that back fired on you. When you noticed nobody outside the temple, keeping guard and, of course, no sight of douma, you made a run for it.

You felt relieved. No one was there to stop you until a dark figure appeared from the shadows and snatched you up like you weighed nothing. "I caught you! You sure ran fast. Are you sure you weren't a demon slayer before you came to my temple?" Douma said, smiling from ear to ear.

You tried to catch your breath from running up, but your breath quickly turned into a panic. Douma frowned for a moment, "Oh you poor thing. Don't be scared. We'll get you back to the temple so you can rest for the night," Douma said. With such fake empathy in his tone, it almost sounded sarcastic.

Douma continues to hold your body off the ground in a bear like hug. His muscles flexed to hold you firmly so you couldn't escape. However, looking at Douma more closely, you noticed changes about him. His teeth looked more like fangs. His body against yours felt so cold, almost like he was dead and worst of all. He had "upper 2" written in his eyes. Was this a demon's technique? How was he able to hide these features on him so well around his cult members.

"I don't want to go back!" Your voice trembled. You tried to speak soft, but the panic got to you. Douma only just smiled, speaking in his cheerful voice. "If you're worried about being eaten alive, don't worry, you aren't my type of woman to eat, but you are my type of woman to be around. So I will be keeping you since you asked for my help to save you from those demons that day, so it only makes sense for us to stay together." Douma chuckled.

"What??" You sighed, looking at Douma with worry, fear, and confusion. "I don't belong to you, so let me go!" You hit Douma, but you knew your strengths was no where near compared to his. Douma places his hand on the back of your head, making your rest your chin on his shoulder while he embraces you more and nuzzling his face to your neck, taking in your scent.

"You still don't get it y/n? You're mine. I'm going to keep you until your time as a human is up." Douma said, throwing you over his shoulder and began to walk back to the temple.

"You belong to me and me alone~"

Muzan

2 years had passed since you were kidnapping, and you were finally back and safe with your family. Although your kidnapper, known as the most powerful demon, kidnapped you was bad, he could've been a lot worse. So you like to think of it that way. He could dispose of you at any moment, even when you couldn't help him find the blue spider lily, but he didn't.

You're family for owning a flower company, educated on flowers even so that's the main reason why Muzan took you but he let you go when you were of no use to him anymore. The bond you had with Muzan wasn't always about his work. There was soft intimate moments between you two but you knew not to get your hopes up since in the end, your knowledge wasn't all that useful and he let you leave, putting his work before you.

Your life continued to move forward, and eventually, you had an arranged marriage. A soon to be husband for you. He wasn't bad. He did promise to treat you right, give you his money and etc but deep down, you knew you couldn't love this man but went along with it for the benefits and your familes sake.

The wedding took place during the night. Your in-laws thought it would be a great idea to see how lovely your wedding dress would look in the moonlight. You asked to be alone in the fitting room, and you turned off the lights. Despite being human, you've gown accustomed to the dark and toy opened the window, feeling the night's breeze. Your hands slide down your sides to your hips, and you smile at yourself in the mirror, seeing just how gorgeous you look.

"You look stunning, my dear. They were right. The way the moonlight shines on that beautiful dress is just Devine," a deep familiar voice said. You gasped and turned your head to the window and saw Muzan, sitting in the edge and watching his glowing red eyes trace every inch of your body and even smirking at how the dress hugs your hips and holds up your tits perfect.

"Why are you... h-how did you find me?" You stepped back. Muzan came into your fitting room further and made his way towards you. Your body froze, but your eyes softened once you felt his hand on your cheek. His hand was so cold. "Do you think I'd let just anyone actually go?" Muzan bluntly said. That line alone confirmed your thoughts from a year ago. You weren't actually free, and like you predicted, Muzan would come back to you. However, it wouldn't be for the reason you think.

"I don't have any more knowledge on the spider lily. Even after you let me go, I couldn't find it." You explained to Muzan, but he only grinned. "I have upper ranks to do the job much better and faster than you," He said. His words cut a bit deep since you used as much energy as you could've helped him before. "But you can be useful to me in... other ways," Muzan said as his eyes gestured to your body and then looked back at your face.

It's like the old feelings came rushing back. In your own sick way, you missed this man. Muzan is the worst, curel and dangerous man-eating demon you could've ever met. Yet you knew leaving with him was a choice you had to make now. Your mind snaps out of it once you head a knock at the door. You and Muzan look at the door and hear a woman's voice on the other side.

"Um, y/n? Are you almost done?" One of your maid of honors asked through the door. "Yes, im-" you paused. Your eyes look down to see Muzan's hand slide on your hip and even slide his hand down lower, just like how he used to, but you stopped him. "I'll be right out. Just give me a minute," you say in a worry, and then look at Muzan, his lips inches away from yours, and you spoke quietly.

"You can come by tomorrow night, and we'll talk about this. You came at such an odd time. " You rolled your eyes halfway, trying not to let all these emotions cloud you. You turned around, but the second you did, Muzan had grabbed the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pulled you back to face him. "Mm.." Muzan brought you into a heated kiss, making you stumble back and sit in the mini table in your changing room.

"Y/n!?" Your maid of honor placed her ear on the door after hearing a thund sound. "If you think for a moment I'd let you have some random mam in bed with you, then you're more stupid than I thought," Muzan said as his jaw tensed. You pant as you feel his fingers press into your neck and you placed your hands on his chest for some kind of support.

"You belong to me, and I'm taking you back. The connection we share won't ever disappear, so don't think for a second it will," Muzan said, pulling you into another kiss. This time, you kissed him back. His words may not have been the sweetest, but you understood them. He wanted you, and you wanted him. He pulled away once he heard hard banging on the door.

"Let's go," you said, lifting up your dress, not hesitating for a moment about leaving. Muzan had picked you up, and you heard a biwa sound, transporting you to Muzan's room in an instant. Muzan, put you down. His hands made their way to your body, with one hand on your ass and the other playing with the zipper on your wedding dress.

He smirked at you, letting out a dark chuckle. "Now. Won't you let me give you that wedding night you deserve to have"