#i simply refuse to read this again: the sequel

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Are There Still Beautiful Things? | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello! This is a part two! I finally got around to writing a sequel to The Ultimatum! So do me a favor and read that one first. Thanks!

Word count: 16.7k

Trigger warnings: emotional abuse, manipulative boyfriend, anxiety / depression

The following morning, Bucky floated through the apartment with silent steps. He moved with the utmost caution, sidestepping the creaky floorboard in the hall. Closing the kitchen cabinets as gently as possible. Anything to avoid waking you. After the night you’d had- the fight, the long walk in freezing rain, the tears, the panic attacks- you needed all the sleep you could get. Knowing you, he figured you’d rise around ten. You always said that anything later was a waste of the day. 

But morning came and went without an appearance from you. He listened at his bedroom door for any sign of life and found only silence. He leaned against the kitchen counter, eating the omelet he’d intended for you. It wasn’t going to be good cold, anyway. 

He wondered what your year under Alex’s thumb had been like. Suffocating, he decided. Claustrophobic. Were you ever happy? In the last year, did you experience even one instance of genuine joy? Or were you miserable around the clock? Were you constantly aching, without anyone to turn to?

Bucky folded the blankets he’d used to turn the couch into a makeshift bed. When he offered you- implored you- to take his bed, he knew you’d refuse. He knew that you’d feel guilty, that you’d say it was too kind a gesture. But it wasn’t a gesture at all. He really wanted you to take it. You’d sleep better in his bed than on the couch. And he wanted you to feel comfortable. To feel safe. 

He even changed the sheets, so you’d have a fresh set to curl up in. 

But you still refused. How could you accept an offer like that? Bucky had already done enough for you for one night; and you didn’t deserve any of it. You told him, time and time again, that the couch was just fine. That you’d survive sleeping in the living room. That he didn’t have to give up his bed for you- but he did it, anyway. 

Around 3am, you couldn’t refuse anymore. You waved a white flag; there was no fight left. On your shoulders rested the weight of Alex’s emotional abuse. And for the last year, you did your best to pretend it didn’t exist. To carry on. You put on a brave face and muscle through it, because complaining would only mean more pain. More punishment. More weight. But as you leaned against the door of Bucky’s bedroom, you couldn’t fight the heft anymore. It split your spine and crushed your lungs. Finally, it broke you.

You were too tired to argue with Bucky about who should sleep where. Too tired to put yourself back together. But Bucky was there to pick up the pieces. 

He carried you to his bed and secured the blankets around you. And for a while, no one spoke. He simply sat on the edge of the bed, holding your hand. His thumb stroked your knuckles every once and a while. His free hands adjusted your blankets where he deemed necessary. It was the most peace- the most care- you’d experienced since the last time you saw him. 

After a while, he figured he should leave you alone; he didn’t want to keep you awake any longer. And so, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, gave your hand a squeeze, and headed for the door. He told you to get some rest. To wake him if you needed anything- and he meant anything. And then he was gone.

You didn’t have it in you to call after him and beg him to stay with you. He’d done enough. So, you toughed it out. Alone. 

Everything in you just wanted to slip into unconsciousness, to sleep for eight or twenty hours. And you should’ve. You should’ve fallen asleep no problem. After everything that happened that evening- everything that happened over the last year- you were empty. Drained. And your body and mind needed rest. 

But sleep didn’t come. 

With each closing of your eyes, you were haunted by fears of Alex’s wrath. Of his consequences and punishments. Of the venom in his voice when he spoke to Bucky about you. Of returning home to him. 

The waking nightmare rooted itself in your mind- or maybe it was always there. Surely, you’d had these uneasy feelings about him before. But this was the first time you really let them sink in. The first time you’d given them any attention. 

Over the past year, you’d simply swatted these kinds of thoughts away, treating them like a bothersome gnat. But deep down, you knew they weren’t there to bother you- they were there as a warning. 

With sleep out of the question, you opted to stare at the ceiling. In the scant light that weaved through the blinds, you took stock of its appearance. It was old. Textured. Yellowed in places from water damage. Cracks veined their way across the expanse of the room, starting in one corner and ending in another. Part of you wondered how stable it was. Wondered if it the whole thing might fall in the middle of the night and crush you. You’d be okay with it if it did.

When staring at the ceiling grew boring, you turned on your side and observed the wall instead. It had scuff marks and indents. Chipping paint. But it was Bucky’s wall. And you were just lucky to be here- in his bed, staring at his bedroom wall. A long scrape across the paint rescued a long-banished memory from your most secretive vault. A vault Alex could never know about. 

It was the day that Bucky tried to put in new blinds. He’d fallen from his rickety step ladder and braced himself against the nearest wall, marring the already chipping paint with his vibranium elbow. The two of you laughed at his clumsy attempt, at his claims to be a “handyman”. 

The scene played out inside your mind and managed to bring a weak smile to the surface. But it wasn’t strong enough to keep the dread at bay.

After a while, the wall no longer held your attention. And the ceiling called your name once again.

On and on the staring-cycle went: ceiling, wall, ceiling wall. Of course, you could’ve gone to see Bucky in the living room. Or even called his name; surely, he would’ve come running. But who were you to wake him? Who were you to bother him in the middle of the night? He struggled enough with sleep as it was, and you’d kept him up late. Very late. He didn’t need you further hurting his chances for a restful night. 

Eventually, the sun peeked through the blinds, and you rolled onto your back for your ceiling-staring shift. Throughout the night, you lamented your insomnia. Cursed the buzzing anxiety that kept you awake. But as you laid there, tracing the border of the room with your eyes, a change in perspective struck you. And suddenly, the crushing weight of exhaustion didn’t bother you anymore. Because you were in Bucky’s apartment, in Bucky’s bed. This was the one place you never thought you’d see again. The one place that Alex strictly forbade. The one place that felt like home.

And though you were so tired that you swore your organs would soon fail, you didn’t care. You’d choose a lifetime of sleepless nights in this bed over a restful eight hours in Alex’s any day.

Around noon, the sharp squeak of an old hinge woke you- and you realized that you must’ve actually fallen asleep. That your body must’ve finally given out. After blinking a few times and giving your eyes a moment to adjust, you discovered the source of the sound.

There stood Bucky, still as stone, watching you. 

“Hey… sorry about the-” he pointed to the door. “The hinges are kinda old.”

“No, it’s…” you let loose a long yawn. “It’s okay.”

Bucky took a few tentative steps in your direction, as though testing the waters. Over the past year, you’d been emotionally gutted. The wounds Alex inflicted were still flayed open, bleeding. Throbbing. Bucky could practically see them spilling crimson all over the bed. Maybe you wanted him close by. Or maybe you wanted your space. 

Either way, he still wanted to check on you. He took another slow step toward you. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to see how you’re doing, see if you need anything,” he said.

Of course, he did. Because that’s who Bucky was- that’s who he always was. Kind and caring and thoughtful. Even when you overstepped your bounds. Even when you overstayed your welcome. Even after you pulled the plug on your friendship. He was there for you. 

You couldn’t fight the smile that stretched across your lips. “Oh, thanks- thank you. Yeah, I’m alright, I don’t need anything,” you shrugged. “You’ve done enough. What time is it?”

Bucky checked his phone, “noon.”

“Jesus Christ,” you ran a hand down the side of your face. Two hours. You’d gotten only two hours of sleep. And as you took a quick inventory of your body, you realized your estimate was probably a little generous. A dull ache pounded inside your skull. A heaviness sat on your shoulders. And a dense fog coated your mind. Every fiber of your being needed more rest. But now was not the time.

You’d already ruined Bucky’s Saturday night and stolen his bed, now you’d eaten up half of his Sunday. A jolt of alarm force you into an upright position. The room spun a little as a result.

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so late,” you pushed Bucky’s bedspread from your body. “I didn’t actually fall asleep till about ten this morning, so I guess I was just-”

Bucky couldn’t stop the ache that pierced his chest. He knew all too well what it was like to spend the night tossing and turning. The need for sleep and the simultaneous fear of the nightmares that followed. The soul crushing exhaustion. He wished he would’ve known that you were struggling to sleep. And he kicked himself for not checking on you periodically throughout the night. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I wish you would’ve come and got me,” he sighed. “I could’ve kept you company. We could’ve watched movies or talked or-”

It was sweet. It really was. But even the thought of waking him made you feel guilty. 

“Nah, I didn’t wanna bother you. And I…” Your eyes took on a far away, hollow quality. “I had a lot to think about.”

A long silence followed. 

A hurricane of emotions tore through you, drowning you in their downpour. The pain, the loneliness, the devastation, the anger, the self-hatred, the feeling of worthlessness. The last year showed you just how toxic, how isolating a relationship could be. And you grieved the life you could’ve had. The time you’d never get back. The people-the person- you lost.

But a sharp pain sunk its fangs into your soul, filling you with venomous questions. How dare you mourn? How dare you pity yourself? How could you let Alex manipulate you? How could you go along with his ultimatum? And how could you abandon Bucky? Did you ever care about Bucky at all? What kind of person puts their boyfriend before their best friend? Why did you show up at Bucky’s door? And why did you let him take care of you? Are you really that selfish?

 Who do you think you are?

You gave your head a small shake, freeing yourself from the sharp, deadly thoughts. “Anyway, I’m gonna grab my clothes and get out of your hair.” A quiet groan escaped your lips and you pulled yourself from Bucky’s bed. “I don’t wanna take up your entire Sunday.”

Bucky held a hand up, stopping you. “Woah, what? But you only slept two hours.”

“I’m okay! Really,” you lied. “And I don’t want to impose any more than I already have.”

Bucky gave you a pointed look. Oh, how you’d missed this look. It was the same look he used to give you every time you called yourself ‘an imposition.’ Every time you swore you’d worn out your welcome. Because he never, ever saw you that way. How anyone could see you as an imposition, as a bother, made no sense to him. But he knew of one person who thought of you like that. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Barnes,” you gave a breathy, tired laugh.

“I want you to stay for as long as you like. Honestly. I’m just happy to have you around,” he said. “So, if you wanna go back to sleep for a while, go for it. You’re more than welcome here.”

The words were too kind, the sentiment too genuine. And somewhere, deep down, something inside you broke. To know that there was, indeed, still kindness in the world shattered your remaining resolve. The entire time Alex had you locked away in his tower, you wondered if anyone else’s life had drained of all warmth and color, too. If there were still beautiful things. Or if it was only you who existed in a monochromatic hellscape.

And as Bucky wrapped an arm around you and helped you sit down on the bed, you got your answer. There were still beautiful things- and he was the most beautiful of all. 

The tears flowed freely over your newly destroyed emotional dam. And silent sobs robbed the oxygen from your chest. Hot tears dampened your cheeks, your neck, the collar of Bucky’s sweatshirt. Over the course of the year, you forbade yourself from crying like this. Every once and a while, you allowed a tear or two- but that was it. You knew that if you ever let these emotions free, forcing them back inside their cage would be impossible. But this was a true catharsis. True release. And Bucky helped you through the whole thing.

He rubbed your back, wiped your face, stroked your hair. He spoke soft, reassuring words. And he never tried to stop you. Not once did he tell you to calm down or to get yourself together. He simply let you feel what you needed to feel, what you prohibited yourself from feeling for the last twelve months. 

And when you finally cried yourself out, he wrapped your limp body in a blanket and helped you lay down. 

“Uh, I feel like you’re probably pretty dehydrated now,” he said as he got you situated. “So, I’m gonna go get you some water.” 

It pulled the smallest, most fragile laugh from you. He was right. You’d depleted your body completely, and you could already feel the dehydration headache blossoming between your eyes. But you didn’t care. Bucky took a step toward the door, only to feel your limp hand hook into his. He knew you well enough to know what it meant: you didn’t want him to leave. And he returned the feeling. Now that you finally found your way back into his life, he didn’t want to spend a second away from you. But the top priority was your well-being. 

“I’m gonna be right back, I promise,” Bucky knelt by the bed, meeting your eyeline. “It’ll only take a second.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, to your cheek, to your forehead, and then slipped out of the room. 

He was gone only a few minutes- five at the most. But for you, it was too long. After spending a year without so much as speaking to Bucky, you were desperate to make up for lost time. Hungry to spend every moment with him. And even a five-minute absence was enough to make your heart ache.

“Okay, okay. I’m back. Sorry,” Bucky swept through the bedroom door, an apologetic look on his face. “I figured you should probably eat something.” He offered you a plate of toast and placed two bottles of water on the nightstand. “Toast was the quickest option, but if you want something else, I can just-”

But the way you dove into the food was all the answer he needed. He sat on the edge of the bed, 

watching you wolf down the substitute breakfast, and wished he could’ve remade the omelet he prepared for you hours earlier. But you needed him. And he didn’t want you to wait. 

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you were hungry. You’d swallowed so much grief, so much pain- you didn’t notice your empty stomach. But Alex made you miss dinner. Your exhaustion made you skip breakfast. And your meager lunch from the previous day disintegrated long ago. 

But the smell of the toast brought your hunger into crisp focus. It gnawed on the inside of your abdomen and clawed up your throat. It echoed through the void. Sharp pains needled at your insides between waves of nausea. But the peanut butter toast quelled your discomfort. 

“Thank you,” you took a long swig of water. “I needed that.” 

“Anytime.”

“So, you… you don’t mind if I try to go back to sleep for a while?” Trepidation rendered your voice almost imperceptible. Had bucky not received the serum all those years ago, he wouldn’t have heard you at all. 

He encircled your hand with one of his, “I don’t mind at all.”

“Are you sure?” you said, louder this time. “Cause if you have plans or things you need to do, I totally get it. I can just-”

Bucky pulled your body into his, quieting your rambling. “This is all I’m doing today.” He held you there for a long moment. His hand smoothed up and down your back. His breath fanned the skin on your neck. And when your anxious heartrate returned to its normal pace, he released you.

“What plans do you think I had for today, sweetheart? Do you know who you’re talking to here?” Bucky laughed. “I’m not exactly Mr. Social Life.”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Maybe you were gonna to go a movie today. Or the farmer’s market, or something.”

“Nope. I don’t have any plans to speak of,” he said as he helped you get comfortable in his bed once again. “And I went to the farmer’s market last Sunday. So, I don’t need to go again.” He shot you a wink and brushed a kiss against your cheek. “You go back to sleep. I’ll be right outside if you need me. Okay?”

You nodded against the pillow that smelled like him and gave his hand one last squeeze. Everything in you screamed, begged, howled for him to stay. But you couldn’t ask. You couldn’t ask for another favor after all he’d done for you. Could you? No. It wasn’t right. He didn’t owe you shit. Everything he did to help you came simply from the endless well of goodness within him. And you were not about to ask for more. You couldn’t. 

But you did. 

“Buck?” 

He stopped in his tracks just as he reached the door. “Yeah?”

“Would you…” you rolled your eyes at yourself. Your neediness. Your greed. “Would you stay with me for a while?”

And just like that, he crawled into bed. No hesitation. No question. 

He sat next to you, his back resting against the headboard. “This alright?”

You nodded up at him. “Is it okay if I…” You lifted your head from his pillow and opted to rest it in his lap instead. And of course, he nodded in return.

Before things fell apart, before Alex’s ultimatum- this was a standard position for the two of you. When Bucky had a nightmare, or a panic attack, or a particularly bad flashback, he’d rest his head in your lap. When things got bad for him, it was the only way to remind him that he was real. That he was here. And that he wasn’t alone. Your fingers tangled gently in his hair. Your voice quietly called him away from the edge. And after a while, he’d return to himself. 

It felt almost blasphemous to co-opt his practice. To rest your head in his lap this way- especially after the way you abandoned him. There were, without a doubt, many instances over the last year when he’d needed this, when he’d needed you. And you weren’t there. Just thinking about it sent a lightning strike through your chest. What did he do in those moments? How had his soul broken through the haze and rejoined his body? Did he sit in this very apartment, all alone, waiting for the pain and terror to ebb on their own?

These thoughts tried to pull your head from Bucky’s lap. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair; not to you, not to him. You couldn’t commit sacrilege in this way. Couldn’t desecrate something that was once so sacred. But just as you attempted to move away, Bucky’s gentle hand rested on your shoulder.

“You okay? Comfortable?” He smiled down at you, awaiting your response. And you couldn’t find it in you to pull away from someone so beautiful and warm and kind. 

The rest of Sunday melted by without your participation. A dreamless sleep got its hooks in you and pulled you deeper, deeper, deeper. Bucky noticed you wake only a handful of times. And though he was sure you had to be hungry again when you woke in the evening, he didn’t push the issue. He let you sleep peacefully in his lap, with his hand smoothing gently over your hair. And when it was time for him to finally get some shut eye, he repositioned your head on his chest. 

That night, he slept better than he had in a year. 

In the morning, you woke to a cold, empty bed. And just as you wondered where Bucky could’ve gone, the smell of bacon answered your question. The aggressive hunger pangs poking at your stomach grew sharper as you took a deep inhale. Bacon, eggs, toast, coffee. Coffee.  You scrambled out of bed and found Bucky in the kitchen, leaning over the stove. 

“Morning!” He dragged his gaze away from the food to steal a look at you. Messy morning hair. Tired smile. Beautiful. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

But his words didn’t register right away. Your mind was too fixated on the stove full of food. And it dawned on you: this was the first time you’d ever seen him cook. Sure enough, a cutting board with the remnants of chopped tomatoes, green onions, and bell pepper sat next to the stove. And he was expertly presiding over bacon and two perfectly constructed omelets. 

“Um, what? Oh, no, you didn’t wake me,” you said. “Buck, you’re… cooking? You have groceries?”

He nodded. “I cook now,” he said with pride. “And yeah, I have groceries. I go shopping now, too.”

It was something so small, so normal to everyone else. But to Bucky- to you- it was a big deal. A huge deal. You crossed to the fridge and gave the door a pull, only to find it fully stocked. The back of your throat tightened a bit, a warm rush of tears blurred your vision. 

He’d always needed help with that kind of thing, with taking care of himself. When he was still trying to get acclimated to this world, to this time- he found himself in a hole. He’d fallen deep, deep down into a pit of depression and anxiety and existential dread. And menial tasks like grocery shopping were too daunting. Too overwhelming. So, you picked up the slack. You brought him groceries at least once a week, sometimes twice. You cooked for him a few days out of the week. And you did it with a smile. It wasn’t a hassle or a bother. It was something you did because you cared. Because you loved him. And if he needed help, you’d be the first to volunteer for the cause. 

He always swore he could handle it, swore that you didn’t need to stock his pantry. But without you, he would’ve gone hungry. Would’ve withered away to nothing. 

Over the course of the last year, you wondered how Bucky was getting his groceries. How he was getting his meals. If he was eating enough. Was he surviving on takeout? Or was he hungry? Picturing him alone in the apartment, his stomach and fridge empty, brought you to tears on more than one occasion. 

“This is…” You cleared your throat and forbade your voice from shaking. “This is great, Buck. I was worried that you’d been living off take out this whole time.”

“Well, I would’ve been,” he laughed. “But I didn’t have to. Remember that list you made me?” 

You wiped your eyes on the sleeve of Bucky’s sweatshirt and shut the fridge door. “What list?”

“A few weeks before Alex gave you his ultimatum, he got on you for being over here so much.” Bucky rolled his eyes at the memory. “Do you remember that?”

You grimaced and eventually nodded. 

“And you told me what he said. You told me you might not get to spend as much time here. And you wanted me to be prepared. So you made me a list- a grocery list- just in case.” He turned to face you and pointed at a drawer next to the fridge, “look in there.”

Sure enough, inside the drawer, you found a list. It was pristine, save for one slightly folded corner and a small water stain. Scrawled in your handwriting on a piece of notebook paper was everything Bucky would need from the store. It detailed everything- produce, dry goods, frozen ingredients. Everything you always used to buy for him. Everything he liked. 

“I still use it every time I go to shopping,” he said. “Even though I have it memorized by now.”

The list trembled like a leaf in your shaking hands. Maybe you hadn’t left Bucky completely destitute. Just knowing he’d had this life preserver to hold onto, knowing he’d been able to get himself groceries- to feed himself- because of you made your chest tighten. 

“In all honesty, I had kind of a hard time over the last year,” Bucky admitted. He spoke with his back to you, keeping his focus on the food. He didn’t want to look you in the eye. “I missed you. I hated not having you around. But that list was… I don’t know. It made me feel like even though we weren’t friends anymore, you still cared. You know?”

Words didn’t come. And even if they did, you wouldn’t have been able to speak. The sobs you tried so hard to corral sat trapped in your throat, struggling to break free. You tucked the list carefully back in the drawer and leaned against the counter. Bucky deserved better. He’d already been through so much in his life. And yet, you’d given him yet another hard year. A year of heartache and loneliness. A year of emptiness. Of silent dinners. A year of self-soothing.

Bucky peeked over his shoulder and found you with your head in your hands. Your shoulders shook ever so slightly. A riptide of guilt instantly pulled him under.

“Oh, sweetheart, no-” he made his way to your side and wrapped you in a hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Your arms snaked up his chest and wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer to him. He had nothing to apologize for, nothing to feel guilty about. He’d simply told the truth: he had a hard year. And that was nothing to apologize for. Especially after what you’d done to him.

But there he was, apologizing. Consoling you when you didn’t deserve it. 

“You deserved better, Buck,” you whispered against his neck. “You deserved better from me.”

Urgently, you recoiled from his embrace and met his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I never ever wanted to hurt you. It wasn’t fair to you. I-”

“Hey,” he took your face in his hands. “It’s all water under the bridge. Okay?”

He slipped his hand into yours before you could protest and pulled you toward the stove. “Come on, breakfast is ready.”

The two of you got comfortable on the couch with your plates; Bucky watched as you devoured your breakfast of bacon, toast, and the beautiful omelet he crafted. And he couldn’t fight the smile that pulled at his lips. This was a total role reversal for the two of you. For once, he got to take care of you. He got to be your rock, your support system. He got to cook for you, feed you. And he meant what he said earlier. Everything that happened prior really was water under the bridge. He just wanted to be there for you. To make you feel comfortable and safe and cared for. To show you the love you deserved. 

“Oh, hey, I don’t know if you need this,” Bucky grabbed your phone off the arm of the couch and placed it next to you. “It’s been sitting out here since Saturday night.”

After a few taps to the black screen, you got the confirmation you needed. “It’s dead,” you said. 

“Okay, I have a charger in the kitchen. I can-”

“No, that’s okay. It’s probably for the best,” you shrugged. “I just know I’m gonna have like, four hundred texts and ninety mean voicemails from Alex.

Bucky grimaced. “Oh. Well, if you change your mind-”

“It’s probably a sign, right? Like, if I’m dreading turning on my phone because I don’t even want to see his messages…” You took a swig of your coffee, wishing it was something stronger. “It probably means that I shouldn’t be with him anymore. Right?”

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say. You were absolutely right; it was a sign. A sign that you needed to evacuate your relationship. But he didn’t want to weigh in and push you to make a decision. This needed to be something you decided on your own. And so, he simply listened and let you work it out yourself. 

“I mean, just thinking about going back to the apartment makes me-” you gave strong shudder. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to live there.” The words came lightning fast, falling from your mouth before you could process or edit them. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to live with him- I don’t want to be around him. I don’t want to be with him. I don’t- I don’t want any of it.”

Bucky clocked the slight shaking in your hands, the tremor in your voice. He moved closer and enveloped you in his arms. “Okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. Alright?” He pulled away only slightly, searching for your eyeline. “You don’t have to be with him. If you’re done, then you’re done. And that’s that. Alright?”

The weight of the world suddenly vanished from its longtime perch on your shoulders. The pressure sitting on your chest evaporated. And you breathed a deep sigh of relief. The logical side of you knew that you didn’t have to be with Alex anymore. That you could pull the rip cord and free yourself at any moment. But somehow, doing so felt impossible. This whole time, the relationship felt like a jail cell. Like you’d been trapped inside puzzle box from which you couldn’t escape. But the second Bucky said it out loud, the walls of your cell disintegrated. He solved the puzzle box and let you out.

“Yeah. Okay, yeah. Um…” The smile brought on by your newfound freedom lasted only a few seconds. “But I- I do have to go back. I have to go get my stuff. I mean, my clothes, my work stuff – it’s all there.”

“So I’ll go,” Bucky said. “I don’t mind. I’ll go over there right now and get everything.”

Of course, he would. Of course, he’d drop everything and go get your stuff. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed- he’d do it. No questions asked.

“Buck, that’s really- that’s so sweet. You’re really sweet,” You leaned into him once again, basking in his warmth. “But I- I need to be there, you know? You don’t know where everything is. And I need to make sure nothing gets left behind.” Dread filled your chest and crept up the back of your throat. If you never saw the inside of that apartment again, it would be too soon. 

“That doesn’t mean I can’t go with you,” Bucky shrugged. “Let me help. It’s gonna be way too much stuff for you to carry alone, anyway.” His expression darkened a few shades, his tone grew gravely serious. “And I don’t want you there by yourself, just in case Alex is home. I don’t think you should be alone with him.”

It was a morbid thought, but you knew Bucky was right. And no part of you wanted to be alone in the apartment. Not when the ghosts of your heartache freely roamed the halls. And if Alex was there, or if he came home early, you thought it best to have a friend. A witness. 

After changing into your now dry clothes, you plugged your phone into Bucky’s charger and abandoned it on the couch. Surely, it was about to blow up with a barrage of texts and missed calls from Alex. And you weren’t going to be there when it did.

Together, you and Bucky boarded the subway and headed in the direction of the apartment you shared with Alex. Anxiety sparked in your chest and set you alight from the inside. A pit opened in your stomach. There was no getting around this; it was a necessary evil. But with Bucky by your side, it wasn’t so bad. The looming darkness parted each time you looked at him, each time he gave your hand a squeeze. He was going to get you through this if it was the last thing he ever did. 

But heartrate jumped once you disembarked the train. And it skyrocketed as you and Bucky turned onto your street. Only a few blocks away sat your nightmare, your personal hell.

As the apartment building came into focus, your feet turned to cinderblocks. 

“It’ Monday, so he’s definitely at work by now,” Bucky reassured you. “You don’t have to worry about seeing him. Okay?”

You nodded. But your feet didn’t move.

“It won’t take long. We’re gonna grab your stuff and get out as quickly as we can. And then you never have to come back.” 

He was right. This was the last time you’d ever have to return to this godforsaken place- and Alex wasn’t even home. The unpleasant memories hanging in the air couldn’t hurt you. And you were more than entitled to retrieve your things. Alex took a lot from you, and you weren’t going to let him take any more.

The doorman greeted you with a friendly smile and a familiar “welcome home” as he opened the door for you and Bucky and waved you inside. The gilded lobby never brought you much comfort. It didn’t have a homey feel, it wasn’t warm or inviting. To you, it always seemed a little obnoxious. A little full of itself. It was fancier than you ever cared to be. Alex thought it gave him status. Stature. An air of importance. The whole thing made you gag.

“Jesus, I forgot how swanky this place is,” Bucky laughed as the two of you got into the elevator. “You sure you don’t wanna live here anymore?” He let out a dramatic huff as your shoulder gently nudged against his chest. 

 “I’m more than sure.”

Sweat beaded on your palms as you approached the front door of the apartment. All you had to do was go inside, grab your stuff, and get out. It wasn’t a large task. It wasn’t even going to be that difficult. But your stomach turned at the thought of passing through that door. And just as you teetered on the edge of a spiral, Bucky piped up, saving you.

He stood in front of your door and leaned against the frame. “So, how are we getting in, exactly? You don’t have your keys, and-” But he stopped when he saw you crouching near an air vent. “What are you doing?”

“I’m retrieving my back up plan.” 

He watched as you loosened the screws holding the vent shut and reached your arm inside. 

“A couple months ago, Alex and I got into a big fight. I know, shocking,” you rolled your eyes. “I came out here to cool off and have a moment to myself, and he locked me out for… hours. So, after that, ” You removed your arm from the vent and brandished a key in Bucky’s direction. “I taped this on the inside of the vent, just in case. I never had to use it until now.”

Bucky gave you quiet round of applause, “Brilliant.” 

But it wasn’t brilliant. Because when you tried to slide the key into the lock, it refused to budge. You tried once, twice, three times. Nothing. 

“He had the locks changed…” you muttered.

“What? Already? There’s no way…” Bucky tried the key- just to be sure- and met the same end. 

The plan came crashing down around you. And your dream of never seeing Alex again shattered into tiny pieces. 

“I’m gonna have to…” You ran a hand down the side of your face. Your breaths grew sharp and shallow. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. “I’m gonna have to text him. I’m gonna have to ask him to let me in. And he’s gonna have to be here. And he’s gonna-”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky took your face in his hands, calming the panic rising in your chest. “Did you forget that I’m a supersoldier?’

“No. Buck, You can’t-”

“And why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to get in trouble,” You pulled him away from the door, worried he could break it down at any moment. “Because of your pardon. I don’t want you to risk it.”

Bucky scoffed. “It’s my pardon, doll, so, I’ll decide who I risk it for.” 

He resumed his position in front of the door and wrapped his metal hand around the knob. With one last glance over his shoulder, he ensured the hallway was empty. And when he found the coast clear, he gave the handle a sharp twist and forced his weight against the door with his metal shoulder. The wood gave a loud groan, and the new lock gave out a sharp metallic whine. But it worked. 

“Alright, let’s get inside, someone will have heard that.” Bucky ushered you inside and gave a cursory look down the hall- but found no one.

A sharp shiver crept up your spine. Goosebumps rose over your skin. The air inside seemed colder, more sinister than you remembered. But the clock was ticking, and you wanted to spend the shortest possible amount of time here. With a deep breath, you righted your mind and forced yourself to focus. When all was said and done and you successfully escaped with your things, you could fall apart. But not yet. Not now. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go grab my work stuff first. Can you…” You took Bucky by the hand and lead him into the kitchen. Under the sink, you found a box of trash bags. You freed them from the cabinet and thrust them into Bucky’s hands. “Can you go into the bedroom and just start putting my clothes in these bags? My closet and dresser are on the far side of the room.”

Bucky nodded and headed off for his mission- only to stop in his tracks. He’d only been here once, and it was far too long ago for him to remember his way around. “Um, sweetheart?” he called. 

“Down the hall, fourth door on your left!”

“God, this place is huge…” he said. His voice echoed down the hall and found you in the kitchen.

And he was right. As far as apartments go, Alex’s was massive. High ceilings, several spare rooms, a gigantic kitchen- it wasn’t anything like the shoebox apartments you’d lived in over the years. Alex insisted that you move into his cavernous home, and you obliged. But this space never felt like home to you. It was more like a museum- cold, quiet. And you always got in trouble for touching things.

In the living room, you searched for your work laptop. It always sat on the end table next to your side of the couch, but you didn’t find it there. It was unlike you to leave it anywhere else, but still, you weren’t perfect. Maybe you left it in the study, or the bedroom. Maybe it was-

Just then, something caught your attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the shiny silver surface of your laptop. It lay haphazardly next the armchair, still half open. A pit formed in your stomach. And though you knew in that moment that this was Alex’s doing, what you found still knocked the wind from your chest.

Several keys were missing. The screen was cracked beyond repair. And pressing the power button brought no life. The charger sat next to your computer, having been severed right in the middle. Alex was never the destructive type- or so you thought. He never punched walls or broke things out of anger. No, he expressed his wrath through biting words that pierced your skin and made you bleed. This was a new low for him. 

Just as you’d begun to wrap your mind around the destruction, Bucky’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Hey, doll. I think… um, you should come here.” The trepidation in his voice activated alarms inside your mind.

And though you did your best to steel yourself against what you might find in the bedroom, the reality was worse than you imagined. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Bucky draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “You don’t deserve this.”

Before you lay a sea of your belongings, scattered and strewn across the floor. Pages were torn from books and crumpled into balls. Large rips and tears frayed the fabric of your clothes. Feathers leaked from a hole in your pillow. Every single page of your journal had been shredded into the tiniest possible pieces. An overwhelming sense of grief punched you in the stomach. The small stuffed cat you’re your childhood had its head severed. The jewelry box your grandmother gave you in high school lay in pieces. It was all so disturbing, so demented. So purposefully and pointedly cruel.

You didn’t think it could possibly get any worse- until you decided to pop your head into the bathroom. All of your make up sat piled in the garbage. Broken bottles. Shattered compacts. Destroyed brushes. The rest of your beauty products- your skincare, your haircare, your perfume- rested on top of your make up. Every bottle had been opened and dumped out, creating a sticky, disgusting mess. There was no salvaging any of it, no saving even one item. And sprinkled on top of the entire muddied disaster was your anxiety medication- the medication you sought because of Alex’s reign of terror. He always mocked you for needing medicine, for struggling with your anxiety. Ironically, his torments made you up your dosage.

A sense of weakness crept up the back of your legs, and your knees began to buckle. If Bucky hadn’t reached you in time, you would’ve collapsed against the cold tile floor. But he saved you- again. He held you against his body as endless waves of pain washed over you. He told you time and time again that everything was replaceable, that these things were just things- and your safety was more important than any earthly possession. But his heart broke for you. These were still your belongings. They still mattered to you. And even though your life was more important, he recognized just how violating this was. How dehumanizing. 

A special kind of rage smoldered in his chest. Alex didn’t deserve you- he never did. And you didn’t deserve to be treated with such callousness. 

“We’re gonna get this taken care of. I promise,” Bucky whispered against your hair. “It’s all replaceable. And we can-”

A sudden bolt of concern hit you like a ton of bricks. You yanked your head from Bucky’s chest and met his eyes with your panic-blown pupils. And then you were gone. 

Bucky watched as you sprinted toward your nightstand, tripping over your destroyed belongings in the process. You knelt in front of your nightstand and pulled it from the wall, searching desperately for something- but Bucky wasn’t sure what. 

Relief flooded your face as you pulled a small manila envelope from behind your nightstand and held it to your chest. The two pieces of duct tape that had held it in place got stuck to your skin for just a moment, but you didn’t seem to care. Just to be sure, you opened the envelope and looked inside, breathing a deep sigh of relief upon learning that Alex didn’t touch whatever it was that you held so precious.

After that, the destruction didn’t seem to bother you as much.

The two of you stuffed all your belongings into trash bags, opting to go through them later at Bucky’s place. Surely, there was something to be saved. Something worth keeping. But determining that could take time, and you didn’t want to spend an extra second in this hellhole. 

Ripped clothes, broken shoes, and cracked picture frames- among other things- filled three large bags. And when you cleared the room, a sense of peace wrapped you in a hug. 

“Okay, what else?” Bucky asked expectantly. “Is there anything of yours in the kitchen, or the living room, or anything?”

You shook your head. “Nope, this is…” You eyed the trash bags. “This is it. This is all my stuff.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side and thought about the prized possessions from your old apartment. “Really? What about your stand mixer? Or your grandma’s quilt?”

Again, you shook your head. “All that kind of stuff is at my parents’ house. When I moved in here, Alex didn’t want me to bring any of my décor or my kitchen supplies- my stuff wasn’t fancy enough for him.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Alex seemed to be the personification of a red flag. How someone could treat another human being so poorly baffled him. And how anyone could treat you this way was beyond his comprehension.

“Okay, well, at least we know that stuff is okay,” Bucky offered. 

And he was right. When Alex first told you he didn’t want your “tacky” décor and “outdated” kitchen appliances in his home, it hurt. It made you feel small, less than. And from that day on you always felt that you needed to prove yourself to him, to show him that you were, in fact, good enough. But being good enough for him meant never curling up with the quilt your grandmother made you. Never making cookies using your mom’s hand-me-down mixer. Never feeling a sense of home.

Bucky double-checked the ties of the last trash bag, ensuring they were nice and tight. “Hey, what was all that about?” Bucky pointed to the manila envelope tucked under your arm. “Or is it a secret?’

“Technically, it’s not a secret, I guess- well, it’s not a secret from you. But it was a secret from Alex.” You freed the envelope from under your arm, “It’s not juicy or scandalous or anything, but it’s important to me. And-”

The sound of footsteps in the kitchen halted your words. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. A cold sweat appeared across the surface of your skin. And you feared the beautiful breakfast Bucky worked so hard to make you would make a reappearance.

“Hello? Hey, sweetheart…” Bucky waved a hand in front of your face. He’d been trying to get your attention for a few moments now to no avail. You were still as stone, completely frozen with fear. He placed his hands on your shoulders and gave you a soft shake. “Doll.”

“Buck…” Only your eyes moved. Finally, you met his gaze with your massive, terror-dilated pupils. “He’s here. I can’t- I can’t do this. I’m not-”

“Hey, hey- it’s okay.” His palms rested on your cheeks, “You’re fine. You’re okay. You don’t have to talk to him – you don’t even have to make eye contact with the guy, okay?” He waited, allowing your panic-struck brain to process his words. And finally, you granted him a small nod.

He swept his thumbs over your cheeks one final time before pulling his hands from your face. He lifted a garbage bag from the floor and handed it to you. 

“Here, you take this. And I’ll-” He picked up the other bags and tucked one under each arm, “I’ll take these. And we’re out of here. Okay? We’re just gonna walk right out.”

With another nod, you agreed to his plan.

But walking past Alex without speaking, without making eye contact seemed easier said than done. After being with him for so long, you knew he wasn’t going to just let you breeze past him. He wasn’t going to let you go without a fight- not because he loved you, but because his pride wouldn’t allow it. 

The anxiety made your head swim and left you weak in the knees. Your vision blurred; your chest tightened. You knew Alex was waiting for you, smug and impatient. You knew he was going to tear into you the second he laid eyes on you. But there was only one way out of the apartment. And if you could just make it out the door, you’d be free. And so, with Bucky gently encouraging you, the two of you headed for the exit. 

Bucky went first, hoping to take the brunt of the verbal assault. Putting himself between you and Alex and providing you with a shield seemed like the best possible plan to Bucky. He wasn’t going to allow you to go first, not when Alex could so easily lunge at you or throw something in your direction. And after witnessing Alex’s destruction of your personal belongings, Bucky knew there was a chance that Alex would try something. That he might be violent. 

Finally, the two of you made it to the kitchen. Bucky locked eyes with Alex first, eliciting a loud guffaw from your soon-to-be-ex’s lips. 

“Wow. How’d I know you’d be with him?” Alex let out a sharp laugh as you entered the kitchen. “How’d I know?” 

But you didn’t answer. You kept your eyes down, just as Bucky instructed, and allowed the sound of your best friend’s quiet reassurances guide you forward. Shuffling through the kitchen with a garbage bag full of your broken belongings, avoiding your tormentor’s eye contact- it all felt so pathetic. You’d never felt so low, so small.

“You look so surprised to see me, baby!” Alex teased. Your skin crawled. “Guess you didn’t realize that the neighbors like me better than you. And that they’d call me when the saw you break the lock.”

You refused to take the bait. Refused to let him get a reaction out of you. All he wanted was the satisfaction of upsetting you. The gratification of hurting you and twisting he knife. And you weren’t going to give it to him.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Alex took only one step in your direction, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. “You’re not gonna- Hey! You look at me when I’m talking to you!” He dropped his teasing, taunting tone and adopted the sharp, volatile way of speaking he often used around you. 

Instantly, your gaze snapped in Alex’s direction. Muscle memory did its best to protect you, to remind you that obeying was always yielded better results than the alternative. He locked eyes with you, fury burning behind his stare. He took another step toward you, prompting Bucky to block your body with his.

“You’re not gonna break into my house, steal a bunch of shit, and get off scot-free,” Alex scolded. 

Bucky stepped closer to Alex, allowing you to make a path toward the front door. Seeing Bucky stand up to the man who’d made your life a living hell brought the smallest of smiles to your face. He really cared about you. Wanted to defend you. It was a new experience for you. On one occasion, a handsy, shitfaced man at a bar downtown felt you up as you waited for a drink. You looked to Alex for help, for defense, for something- but he didn’t care. He bought the offender a drink and apologized for your antics.

But anyone who hurt you hurt Bucky, too.

A debate sparked inside of you at the site of Bucky taking such a confrontational stance toward Alex. Half of you wanted Bucky to back off, to stay away from Alex, to protect his pardon. But the other half wanted nothing more than to watch Bucky tear Alex to shreds. To see Alex’s blood stain the brilliant marble floors. 

Once you’d gotten out of Alex’s reach, Bucky turned his back on the man and headed in your direction. Freedom was so close- you could almost taste it. But just as you reached for the door, Alex said something that stopped you dead in your tracks.

“Okay, sure! Have fun with the psychotic murderer!” 

Something inside you snapped.

Slowly, deliberately, you turned in his direction. The trash bag tucked under your arm fell to the floor, and all fear Alex previously elicited within you vanished. That anxiety, that panic vacated its spot, making room for a white-hot rage. 

Bucky’s hand encircled your wrist, “Sweetheart, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

But it was too late. No one- especially not Alex- was allowed to speak about Bucky that way. No one was allowed to disparage the kindest person you’d ever met. Over the course of your painful relationship with Alex, you stood up for yourself once. Maybe twice. It never seemed like it was worth the effort or the fight, but Alex speaking about Bucky with such blind hatred ignited a fire within you. Bucky was worth the fight. 

“First of all,” you said, “You don’t get to talk about him. You don’t know him- you’re not good enough to know him. He’s a better person that you could ever dream of being. Because Bucky actually has a soul. He actually knows how to care for people.”

Adrenaline rushed to your head. Speaking to Alex this way felt good- amazing, even. And without fear of consequences or retaliation, you let loose.

“And second, I didn’t break into your house if this is my house too- and you changed the locks!” You spat at him. His eyes widened a bit as your unexpected ferocity boiled over. “And this stuff-” you pointed to the garbage bags, “is mine! It’s my stuff that you broke because you had a fucking tantrum! I’m not stealing anything from you… you stole from me! You stole over a year of my life that I will never get back.”

You took a few more steps in Alex’s direction, much to Bucky’s dismay.

“You did everything you could to tear me down and fucking destroy my self-worth. You pulled me away from my family and my friends- and for what? Just so you could feel special? So, you could feel superior? Are you that insecure? Is your manhood that fragile?”

Alex’s bravado faltered every so slightly. His smug grin faded. His jaw tensed. But he did his best to recover. To seem aloof, bored. He rolled his eyes, “Well, I-”

“I’m speaking,” you hissed. 

Alex quieted. Fear flickered in his eyes.

“You controlled every fucking aspect of my life!” you yelled. “You made me believe I wasn’t good enough- that you were the only one who would ever love me. And you gave me a goddamn ultimatum that almost ruined my friendship the person who loves me most- with the person I love most.”

Bucky couldn’t help the blush that warmed his cheeks.

“Most of the things you did to me can be fixed. I’ll rebuild my self-worth. I can fix my relationships with my friends. But the one thing I will never get back is the time that I could’ve spent with Bucky,” your voice wavered ever so slightly, but the wrath burning inside you immediately fortified it again. “And for that, I wish you nothing but pain and suffering.” 

Satisfied, you turned on your heel and headed for the door. But Alex wasn’t done.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy cause I didn’t want you spending all your time with another man?” Alex scoffed. ”You were always sleeping over at his house- in his fucking bed. When you weren’t talking to him, you were talking about him. You always put him first- you’re IN LOVE with the guy!”

Neither you nor Bucky spoke. And you didn’t dare look at him. An intense warmth rushed into your cheeks. Your heart raced. And though you wanted to throw a rebuttal in Alex’s face, no words came. You hated to admit it, but he was right. 

You were, of course, in love with Bucky. You always had been- it wasn’t even a question. How anyone met him and didn’t fall in love with him was a mystery to you. He was so sweet, so thoughtful, so endlessly and overwhelmingly kind. He made you laugh harder than anyone you’d ever known. Loving him came instantly. Naturally. 

Bucky’s mouth ran dry at Alex’s accusation. And his heart stopped when you didn’t refute it. Never before had he ever rooted for Alex, of all people, to be right. But there’s a first time for everything.

“But, yeah,” Alex continued, “I’m the bad guy cause I didn’t want my girlfriend whoring herself out to some other guy…”

A past version of you would’ve teared up at a comment like that. Alex’s words would’ve broken your heart and left you bleeding all over the place. But this new you- the version that Bucky helped coax into the world- didn’t care. Alex didn’t have power of you, not anymore.

With a chuckle, you turned your back on Alex and strutted toward the door. He hollered insults at you- calling you a slut, a whore, a good-for-nothing bitch. But the words rolled off of you like water off a duck’s back.

“Good luck with her, man!” Alex called after Bucky, “You can have her! Please, take her off my hands! She’s all yours.” 

Bucky followed you into the hallway, beaming with pride. He’d wanted to speak up, to tell Alex off, to tear him apart for speaking badly of you. But this was your fight, not his. And he knew you didn’t need anyone defending your honor. Didn’t need him stealing your moment. After everything Alex did to you, you deserved to scream at him. To get everything off your chest. To give Alex a small taste of his own medicine. Bucky was only there for moral support. For protection. 

He placed your things gently on the floor and wrapped you in a bear hug. This was the version of you he’d known so well all those months ago. Before Alex stripped you of your confidence and whittled you down to nothing. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered against your neck. “That’s my girl.”

“Thank you…” You breathed a long, deep sigh of relief. Finally, it was over. But it still felt too early to celebrate, to revel in the victory. You were still in the hallway outside the apartment. Still in the building. Still, technically, in Alex’s clutches. “Let’s get out of here.”

“One sec. I forgot something.” Bucky turned for the door, but you caught his arm.

“Don’t,” you pled. “Just don’t. I know what you’re thinking, and he’s not worth it.” You just knew Alex would take such unbridled joy in Bucky physically attacking him. Knew he’d love nothing more than to have Bucky arrested and charged with assault. The thought made you nauseous. “He’s not worth your pardon.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt nim,” he promised. “I just wanna talk to the guy.”

For a long moment, you searched his face for any sign that he was lying. The twitch of a brow. The hint of a smile. But you came up empty. And so, you released him. 

“Wait for me downstairs, okay?” He brushed a kiss against your cheek and disappeared inside the apartment once again.

Bucky found Alex leaning against the counter, whiskey in hand. He barely looked up at the sound of Bucky’s boots, but Bucky clocked the eye roll Alex threw his way. 

“Let me guess, you’re back to teach me a lesson?” Alex mocked. “Oh, I’m so scared of the depressed, PTSD- riddled, lame-ass version of the Winter Soldier.” He feigned a fearful expression and made himself laugh before taking a swig of his drink. “What are you gonna do, therapize me to death?”

But Bucky maintained a calm aura- almost too calm. His hands didn’t shake with fury. His heartrate didn’t spike. He kept his breathing even. He approached Alex with a thin, tense smile, and even maintained the expression as his metal hand wound around the man’s throat. Before Alex knew what hit him, his body was pressed against the nearest wall. His feet dangled a few inches above the floor as he fought for his freedom, but it was useless. 

Bucky’s tone was composed, measured, even. It sent a chill down Alex’s spine.

“You know how much pain you inflicted on her,” Bucky said. “But you didn’t actually experience it yourself. You didn’t feelit. And as much as I would love to give you a first-hand recreation…” His grip tightened ever so slightly. “I promised her I wouldn’t hurt you. So, I’m just gonna tell you what will happen if you ever bother her again. You listening?”

Alex struggled to nod. A breathy “yes” was all he could manage.

“Good.”

Bucky’s voice grew lower, sharper, vicious. “I’ll break every single one of your ribs. One at a time. I’ll crush your chest so painfully slowly that you will feel the shards of your bones pierce your heart and lungs. And I’ll watch with a smile as you drown in your own blood,” Bucky said. “You will never speak to her or about her ever again- you won’t even think about her. And if you so much as mention her name- if you say anything less than gracious about her in your little douchey finance bro group text, I will make your life a living hell.” He paused a moment, relishing in Alex’s terrified expression. “You keeping up so far?”

Again, Alex struggled to speak. The lack of air and sudden influx of fear left him almost unable to think. But he managed a quiet “yes.”

“Excellent,” Bucky smiled. “You won’t call her. You won’t text her. You won’t harass her. You won’t stalk her social media or drunkenly call her at two in the morning. You’re going to leave her alone- forever. And if you ever- ever- contact her again, I’ll know. And I’ll be here. I’ve broken that door down once, I’ll be happy to do it again.”

With that, he released his grip on Alex’s neck and sent him crashing to the floor. Watching the man who hurt you sputter and struggle for breath filled Bucky with a sick, twisted kind of joy. Finally, it was Alex who was scared. Alex who was uncomfortable. Alex who felt pain. 

“The only contact you’re going to have with her,” Bucky continued, “is the Venmo payment you’re gonna send her for all of the things of hers you destroyed. Her clothes, her make up, her jewelry- all of it. And it’s going to be a very generousamount to make up for all of the sentimental stuff you destroyed, since you know damn well that she won’t be able to replace any of it.” He knelt next to Alex, getting extra close to the terrified man shaking on the floor. “And I know you’ve got the money. So, if it’s not enough, I’ll be back.”

He flashed a winning smile Alex’s way, “Have a nice day.”

Finally, he stood and stalked for the door, a satisfied smile stretching across his face.

The minutes dragged by without Bucky. You sat perched on one of the sofas in the apartment lobby, waiting for him to meet you. Every time the elevator doors opened, you hoped to see his tall frame and your other two bags of stuff. And every time, you were disappointed. It was nice of him to put his pardon on the line for you, to risk his freedom in order to get you the justice you deserved. But it was the last thing you wanted. After spending so much time away from him, your greatest desire was to simply be with him. To spend every minute with him. And you couldn’t do that if he landed himself in prison on assault charges. 

When he finally made his way to the lobby, you scanned him for any signs of a struggle. But his clothes weren’t out of place. And you didn’t find blood crusted over his knuckles. Nothing was amiss. He had the two remaining bags of your belongings tucked under his arms, and a calm, cool demeanor. But even though he didn’t seem riled up, you eyed him with suspicion. Surely, he hadn’t spent all that time upstairs just talking to Alex. 

“Hey, I’m gonna call us an Uber,” Bucky said as he met you at the couch. “That way we don’t have to bring all of your stuff of the train. Are you-”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “What did you do?”

Bucky shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. I just wanted to talk to him-”

“Buck…”

“What?” He shot you a mischievous grin. “I just wanted to give him a piece of my mind. He’s still alive, still breathing, and all of his blood is inside of his body where it belongs.” A sudden seriousness eclipsed his expression. He dropped the playful attitude, placed your things on the couch, and pulled out his phone. “Anyway,” he tapped away at his phone, calling the two of you a ride. “Let’s get you the hell out of here. Sound good?”

He got his answer in the form of a long, nearly asphyxiating hug. The sheer force of your body launching into his knocked the wind from his lungs and sent him reeling backward. A deep laugh bellowed from his chest as he righted his footing and wrapped his arms around you. 

“Thank you so much…” you whispered against his neck. “For everything.”

Bucky’s lighthearted laughter vanished. “Of course, sweetheart.” He doubled down on the hug, pulling you tighter. “You know I always have your back.”

He refused to break the hug. Instead, he allowed you to rest there in his arms, with your face buried in the crook of his neck. Passersby threw strange looks your way, but Bucky paid them no mind. Only when his phone chimed, signaling the arrival of your car, did you finally force yourself to withdraw from his embrace. 

The ride back to Bucky’s was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of your garbage bags. And though you didn’t say a word over the course of the drive, you didn’t dare let go of Bucky’s hand. Your fingers remained so tightly intertwined with his that your knuckles ached- but you held firm. You knew better than to release your grip on a life preserver. 

“Alright, um, is there someplace you want me to set all this stuff?” you asked once you’d returned to Bucky’s. You eyed your overstuffed trash bags sitting in the middle of the living room floor. “I don’t want them to be in the way.”

Bucky just shrugged; he really didn’t seem to mind that your belongings completely encroached on his space. “I’m not worried about it, doll,” he shot you a reassuring smile, “You put ‘em wherever you like.”

But you couldn’t let your things take up the entirety of Bucky’s living room. After everything he’d done for you, you refused to be a less than perfect houseguest. With the toe of your shoe, you pushed the bags into a corner to keep them out of Bucky’s way. You sunk your weight into the large, overstuffed bags, hoping to make them as small as you possibly could. It was the very least you could do. 

“Alright, I’m-” You grabbed your phone off the charger and cleared Alex’s old notifications from the screen with a roll of your eyes. “I’m gonna go call my boss and let her know that a petulant man-child destroyed my work laptop.”

Bucky loved hearing you talk this way. Only a few hours ago, speaking about Alex made you shudder. It turned into a shaking, fragile shell of yourself that Bucky almost didn’t recognize. But you’d stood up to him. You finally fought back. And now, you were casually shit-talking him in Bucky’s living room. 

“And then I’m gonna start looking for a new place to live so I can get out of your hair as soon as possible,” you said as you scrolled through your contacts in search of your boss’s number. “I’m gonna borrow your room for a minute so I can talk with my boss. I’ll be right back.”

The stress of your current situation poked at the back of your mind. You did your best to shut it out and keep moving forward, but pangs of anxiety shocked you every few moments. Yes, you’d freed yourself from Alex’s shackles. And yes, you finally had Bucky back. But your work computer was a goner. You’d missed two meetings today already. And you were now without a place to live. 

Bucky listened to your footsteps growing further and further down the hall as your words buzzed inside his brain. You were going to look for a new place to live. You were going to leave. He didn’t mean to blurt it out, didn’t mean to make his offer in such a strange fashion- but he couldn’t help it.

“You could always live here,” he called after you. And it was too late to force the words back into his mouth. 

Once again, you joined him in the kitchen, a look of bewilderment on your face. “What?”

A nervous smile stretched across Bucky’s face. “I just mean, you’re more than welcome to live here. With me,” he shrugged. “I know this place isn’t nearly as nice as Alex’s, and it’s only a one bedroom- but if you wanted to live here, we could make it work. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

The absurdity of Bucky’s words made you shake your head. “Buck, I’m not gonna make you sleep on the couch in your own home-”

“It’s really okay,” he insisted. “We both know I don’t sleep much, anyway. And if you moved in here, I’d want you to take the bedroom.”

His kindness gave you whiplash. After being with someone so callous, so cruel for so long, Bucky’s warmth was shocking. Unexpected. And though you wanted nothing more than to make a home with him, you couldn’t accept his offer. 

“I can’t do that to you…”

“Yes, you can. I want you to.” Bucky was resolute in his words. His voice didn’t waver, he didn’t break eye contact. He meant what he said.

A long silence filled the room. Of course, you wanted to say yes. You wanted to move in with him and start the next chapter of your life with your best friend by your side. But just as your ‘yes’ tried to slip out of your mouth, you stopped it. You couldn’t accept his offer. At least, not with the proposed conditions. 

“Counteroffer,” you said. “I move in here, and we share the bedroom.”

Your proposal threw Bucky for a loop- but he’d do anything you wanted. All you had to do was ask. 

“Okay, yeah,” he conceded. “The room’s kinda small but we could fit two small beds in there. It might be a little cramped, but-”

“That’s not what I meant,” you laughed. “We would share the bed. I mean, we’ve slept in that bed together more times than I could count. This wouldn’t be any different.”

Bucky’s heart soared. Not only did he have his best friend back- but you wanted to share a bed like the old days. The good days. It was all he could’ve hoped for. 

“And, that way, I’ll be right there in case you have a nightmare or a panic attack,” you said, satisfied. “I can wake you up and make sure you’re alright.” The smile on your face was warm, genuine. You looked forward to helping Bucky, to comforting him. “It’s a win-win in my book.”

It made Bucky melt. He extended a hand in your direction, “Works for me, doll. Deal?”

You extended your hand and almost met his- but an anxious thought made you recoil.

“And you’re��sure that you’re okay with me being here all the time? You’re not gonna get tired of me?”

Alex always made you feel like a bother. He’d asked- practically begged- you to move into his apartment. But once you finally fulfilled his request, he looked at your presence with contempt. He made it known that he was frustrated, that he felt like you were always around. And regardless of your newfound freedom, that wound hadn’t healed.

“Cause I work from home, you know. So, I’m gonna be here a lot,” you told him. “I mean, pretty much all day, every day. And if that’s too much, I-”

“I want you to be here- all the time,” Bucky promised. 

And he meant it. 

Finally, your hand found his and delivered a firm shake. “Deal.”

With your housing arrangements taken care of, you once again headed down the hall to call your boss. Everything felt lighter, easier, less overwhelming. Only moments ago, you didn’t know where you’d be sleeping a few days from now. But Bucky swept in- again- and saved the day. He offered you the homelife you’d dreamt of every night since meeting him. He made your dream a reality. 

Bucky remained in the kitchen, silently processing what just happened. Did he really ask you to move in? And did you actually say yes? His heart pounded in his chest. This was the best possible outcome. The fantasy he’d envisioned for years. To have you so close by, to see you every day, to live under the same roof as you- it was all he’d ever wanted. His eyes drifted to the garbage bags that you shoved into a corner of his living room. When he said that he didn’t mind you putting them there, he meant it. He was just happy- elated, really- to have your things in his home. To know that this was their permanent residence. To know that this was your permanent residence. 

And though everything in those bags was mostly destroyed, you were okay. You were safe and comfortable. You were home now. 

When you finally finished your call, you found Bucky in the kitchen. He stood over a swath of sandwich ingredients, assembling a much-needed meal for the two of you.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “You in the mood for lunch?”

“I’m starving,” you told him. Truthfully, you hadn’t even realized you were hungry. The stress of the day muted your body’s hunger signals completely. But somehow, Bucky knew. He always knew what you needed.

The two of you sat on the living room floor, going through your possessions and eating your sandwiches. Bucky helped you comb through each bag of stuff as you determined what, if anything, could be salvaged. His heart broke as the ‘trash’ pile grew, and grew, and grew. It severely outweighed the ‘save’ pile- and you’d only been through one bag. Alex reduced your belongings by at least seventy percent. But you didn’t seem to mind much.

As you were made well aware, there were worse things in life than torn clothes and destroyed make-up. A volatile, loveless relationship, a partner who hated you, a year without the person you loved most; your broken laptop paled in comparison. 

Only one possession really mattered to you- and it survived the rampage. But as you glanced over at the kitchen counter in search of your manila envelope, your heart stopped. Every function within your body came to a screeching halt. It was nowhere to be seen.

Did you drop it in the apartment lobby? Forget it in the Uber? Was your most beloved personal item sitting on the sidewalk outside Alex’s building?

Bucky clocked the anxiety in your expression, the way your eyes searched every inch of the kitchen. He could always sense even the smallest of changes in your demeanor- sometimes before you sensed them yourself. 

“Hey, is everything alright?”

“I’m just looking for my-” A sigh of relief left your chest as your gaze landed on your envelope. It was tucked under a worn cookbook, with only one of its manila corners poking out. “Never mind, I found it.”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder and scanned the kitchen until he realized what had you so panicked. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t want to get anything on it while I was making us lunch,” Bucky said. “So, I just put it under my cookbook to be safe. Is that okay?”

With a breathless nod, you assured him it was just fine. But your heart still boomed inside your chest, and the sweat on your palms still left your skin slick. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the deal with that envelope?” Bucky asked, testing the waters. “If it’s none of my business, I completely understand. But I could’ve sworn you were about to tell me back at the apartment.”

“And someone just had to interrupt us,” you said, your voice dripping with disdain. “It’s not too personal, I just had to hide it from Alex. I want you to see, though.”

Bucky was right about one thing. You’d tried to show him the contents of the envelope back at Alex’s. But he had the rest wrong; it was his business just as much as it was yours. He just had no idea how personal the contents of that envelope were to him.

You ditched the pile of damaged clothes sitting in your lap and stood, offering your hand to Bucky. “Come on, let me show you.”

Bucky gladly accepted your hand and laced his fingers with yours on the walk to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what to expect from your special, secret envelope. But he didn’t care. Whether it was a child’s messy crayon drawing or the nuclear codes- it didn’t matter. All that mattered to him was that the contents of this envelope were important to you. And if they were important to you, they were important to him.

“Okay, so, a little backstory…” You slid the envelope out from underneath the book and held it to your chest. “After Alex told me to stop spending so much time with you but before he issued the ultimatum, we got into this big fight,” you rolled your eyes, “I know that comes as a surprise to no one.”

Bucky chuckled at your joke, but the words made his chest ache. To him, your time with Alex sounded more like active combat than love. More like a battlefield than a relationship. 

“And during that fight,” you continued, “he told me I had way too many pictures of me and you on my phone. He thought that at least three-quarters of my phone’s storage was just pictures of us, and he said it was disrespectful to my relationship with him.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “of course, he did.”

“So, he told me I needed to go through my camera roll and delete every picture of you and me. He said it needed to be done by the time he got home from work the next day, and they actually had to be gone for real. Not saved to the cloud. Not hidden in a private album. Deleted forever.”

Bucky grimaced, “That’s fucking vile.” 

It made Bucky sick to his stomach. He cherished his photos of the two of you. Over the course of the last year, he found himself scrolling through those pictures every day. Several times a day. It was a coping mechanism, a respite from the void you left behind. When his chest ached with the pain of missing you, he’d dive headfirst into the hundreds of photos of the two of you. The selfies from the zoo. The pictures from Sam’s wedding. The blurry snapshot of you braiding his long hair. And for a while, he felt like himself again. The pain would ebb, the soul-crushing grief would let up. It was his saving grace.

If he suddenly had to rid his phone of those images, he’d never know peace again.  

“I know. I thought so, too,” a disgusted look pulled at your features. “But I didn’t wanna cause any more problems between he and I, you know? I didn’t want to give him more reasons to be pissed at me…”

Bucky nodded.

“But there was no way I was ever going to delete our pictures,” you swore. “So, when he was at work the next day, I transferred every photo and video of you and me onto an external hard drive and took it to my sister’s place for safekeeping.”

Bucky’s heart swelled. You didn’t delete the pictures- you couldn’t. They were just as important to you as they were to him. He, of course, never doubted that you valued his friendship. But knowing that you couldn’t bear to part with the pictures of the two of you made him blush. He almost wished you hadn’t risked Alex’s wrath just to save those pictures. Hadn’t put yourself in such a dangerous position. But you did. And it filled him with an all-encompassing warmth. 

“There was one picture- my favorite picture in the world- that didn’t have a digital copy, though. It only exists as an actual, physical print. So, I couldn’t just put it on the hard drive and call it a day. And I didn’t have it in me to hand it over to my sister. I just- I love it too much.” It was a little embarrassing to admit just how much you needed this polaroid picture. But Bucky didn’t make a judgmental comment or laugh at you. He simply listened, happily awaiting the next part of your story.

“So, I put it in this envelope and taped it to the back of my nightstand so Alex would never find it. And when things with him were really awful- which was all the time- and I just needed an escape… I’d go into our room, lock the door, and just stare at this picture for a while.” You blinked away the tears forming along your lash line and swallowed the lump in your throat. 

Carefully, you opened the envelope and freed the polaroid from its hiding place. Revealing it to another person almost felt like stripping naked. This picture was your everything, your most prized possession. Sharing it felt like exposing the deepest, most secretive part of your soul. 

“It might sound kinda stupid, but this thing saved my life during the last year.”

And finally, you presented Bucky with the photo. He took in a small gasp at the sight of this relic of your friendship. Cautiously, he accepted the polaroid and held it with the utmost care. He hadn’t seen this photo in ages; part of him assumed it was long-lost by now. But you’d had it this whole time, cherishing it every single day. 

“Oh, I love this one…” He carefully drank in each detail of the photo, examining it one piece at a time.

It was a snapshot of a perfect moment, frozen in time. Confetti littered the floor, empty solo cups laid abandoned on the coffee table. And there you stood next to Bucky, with one of his arms wrapped lovingly around your shoulders. You were laughing at something; Bucky couldn’t remember what. But he remembered the feeling it gave him- the feeling of warmth. The feeling of home. His lips were pulled into a wide smile as he beamed down at you, drowning in adoration. Sure, it was slightly out of focus and tad bit blurry. But it perfectly illustrated the way you and Bucky felt about each other. The way you cared for each other. Cherished each other. 

Bucky traced the corners of the photo with his fingers, “I never knew where this thing ended up. I’m so glad you kept it.”

“Yeah…” A hurricane of memories hit you all at once, reminding you of all the times you sought solace in that photo. It gave you the comfort Alex withheld. The strength to carry on. The hope that, one day, you’d see Bucky again. “Me too. I just hate that I had to hide it, you know?”

“Hey, how about we do this…” Bucky took your hand in his and walked you over to the fridge. He freed his hand for a moment, only long enough secure the photo to his fridge with a magnet. His hand found yours once again, and the two of you admired your polaroid’s new home.

“I can go get you a frame for it tomorrow, that way you can display it properly. And you can see it every day. But I thought this would be good for now,” he said. “You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

And for a long while, the two of you just stood there in front of the fridge. No one spoke- no one needed to. Bucky freed his hand from yours and opted instead to wrap his arm around your shoulders, just as he’d done in the photo. 

The weight of this moment would’ve shocked a stranger. To anyone else, a blurry photo on a fridge wouldn’t require this much admiration. This much reverence. But to you, this was everything. Six months ago- even a week ago- you never would’ve thought this was possible. You never would’ve thought you’d be here, in Bucky’s apartment, with your favorite photo proudly displayed for all to see. A familiar stinging sensation warned you of the oncoming tears, but you didn’t make an effort to stop them. 

If a genie offered you one wish, you’d wish to go back in time. You’d want to warn your past-self of the slippery slope of Alex’s manipulation. Of the pain and suffering and heartache he caused. Of the way you lost out on a year with your most cherished friend. But with no genie in sight, you opted to simply live better. Love better. And be honest with people- with Bucky.

“Hey, by the way,” you broke the silence. “I wanted to talk to you about something Alex said to me earlier…” It was a miracle the words even came; you were too nervous to even breath. “I just think I should set the record straight and-”

Bucky held up a hand, silencing you. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to say anything,” Bucky assured you. “I know he’s just an insecure guy who was feeling threatened, or whatever. I’m not gonna hold you to anything he said.”

You took a step back, freeing yourself from Bucky’s embrace. You needed the space, the distance. If you were going to be honest with him, you needed a clear head. And being so close to him was enough to make you drunk.

“That’s not what I was gonna say.” You paced back and forth a little before almost shouting, “I was gonna say that he was right- I am in love with you. And I have been for a long time.”

A loaded silence sucked all of the oxygen out of the room. No one spoke, no one even moved.

Bucky felt his skin burst into flames. He feared his heart might explode. For so long, the only feeling he’d known was sorrow. Grief. Missing you became his constant state of being. But now, here you were. And you were saying things- things he’d always wanted to hear. Part of him wondered if this was some kind of very long, very detailed dream. But no, this was real. You were right there in from of him, baring your soul and confessing your love. 

“That’s…” he took a deep breath, “that’s not at all what I expected you to say.”

The seconds crept by until they became a minute. Two minutes. Three. But Bucky didn’t say anything else. He let his simple response hang in the air without elaboration. And just like that, your hope imploded. Four minutes of quiet past. And just when the fifth grew close, Bucky finally spoke.

“I bet you don’t know the backstory of that picture.”

A quizzical look pulled at your features. Frustrated hardened your voice. “Buck, I just told you that I’m in love with you, this is not the time to talk about backstory.”

Bucky just shook his head, “come on, humor me, doll.” He shrugged, waiting for you to tell him the story.

“Okay, I mean, I was literally there, so I do know the back story,” you huffed. “It was after Sam’s birthday party. Everyone else had left except for us, Sam, and Nat. We were all goofing around at like, three in the morning or something. And Nat took the picture.” You gave him an expectant look, “there you go. Backstory.”

Bucky made a dissatisfied sound but couldn’t fight the shit-eating grin creeping through his serious exterior. “Hmm, not Quite.”

“What? That is the story, what are you-”

“Technically, yes, that is the story,” the conceded. “But it’s not the full story.”

An irritated sigh left your chest, “okay, fine. What’s the ‘full story’?” You’d never been this frustrated with Bucky before. Never felt this much annoyance toward him; you didn’t like it. He was being difficult on purpose, and clearly enjoying it.

“Well, it was after Sam’s birthday party. And it was only the four of us there, like you said. But…” he began, “After Nat took the picture, she dragged you into the kitchen so you two could take shots. And once you were out of earshot, Sam kinda shoved my shoulder.”

“Okay…”

“And he said I just needed to marry you already.”

Your heart stopped.  “I told him- I swore we were just friends,” Bucky laughed at the preposterous lie. “I told him things with us were strictly platonic. And Sam laughed in my face. He said- and this is a direct quote- ‘platonic my ass. You’re in love with her. If you two aren’t together one year from now, I’ll give you five hundred bucks.’”

He paused, trapping you in suspense. 

“And he was right,” Bucky said. “I was in love you- I am in love with you. I always have been.”

Thousands of thoughts crowded your already overwhelmed mind. Words refuse to string themselves together properly. Thoughts collided with each other and turned into messy, jumbled piles. Somewhere within you, a sense of urgency erupted. Something told you to act- act right now. Don’t give Bucky the time to take it back. Don’t give him the opportunity to say, “never mind”. 

But what were you supposed to say to that? It wasn’t what you’d expected- you hadn’t even let yourself hope for something like this. And now that your ideal scenario was playing out of front of you, you were completely and utterly unprepared.

A few clunky sounds fell out of your mouth; they didn’t even resemble an actual word. You thought it was maybe a combination of “wow” and “cool”- mixed with a healthy dose of unintelligible mumbling. It wasn’t like the smooth, well-crafted delivery that Bucky displayed. Your cheeks burned with humiliation as Bucky stared at you, awaiting your response. 

Everything in you wished you were cooler. Smoother. Less embarrassing. On rare occasions, you let yourself imagine what this moment might be like. And in your head, you always handled it with poise. With grace. In your daydreams, there wasn’t any awkward mumbling or charged silence. Instead, you and Bucky would fall together seamlessly after confessing your love in perfect, poetic sonnets.

This was not that. 

But this was better. Because it was real. Because the Bucky Barnes was standing in front of you, telling you that he loved you. 

Finally, you found your words. 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.” 

Bucky’s chest deflated with a deep sigh of relief. Because even though you’d professed your love for him only moments ago, your long silence forced his anxiety into overdrive. What if you were just making a weird joke? What if he’d taken it too seriously? 

But the way you wrapped your body around his confirmed that, yes, you did mean it. You did love him. 

“And hey,” Bucky wriggled free of your arms and took your face in his hands. He needed to make direct eye contact, needed you to know he was serious. “I know what you- I know some of what you went through over the last year. I know you have a lot to process. So, there’s no rush.”

And while it was sweet and thoughtful and kind of Bucky to say such a thing, you weren’t sure if it was true. Because there was a rush, wasn’t there? There was a time limit. A ticking clock. You couldn’t make him table his feelings for you even longer. Couldn’t make him wait. And if you did tell him to press pause, weren’t his feelings going to expire? Weren’t they going to run out? You needed to capitalize on his affections for you now before it was too late. 

But before you could lie through your teeth and tell Bucky you didn’t need to wait, he spoke.

“If you ever want to pursue things with me, I’ll be here,” he promised. “My feelings for you aren’t going anywhere. I’ve waited years for this, I can wait as long as you need.”

But that was just it. He’d waited years- making him wait any longer would be cruel, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it be unfair, especially now that he’d rescued you from your volatile relationship? 

It wasn’t that you wanted to delay a romantic relationship with Bucky. No, you wanted it now. The only issue was the heavy toll your ex took on you. You were littered with emotional wounds that were barely beginning to heal. Your anxiety was at an all-time high. And your trust issues reared their ugly heads. This wasn’t the version of you that Bucky deserved. He didn’t deserve the broken-down, mentally unwell shell of a woman that stood before him. And you owed it to yourself to rebuild.

The long silence brought on by your introspection set Bucky on edge. Maybe he really did misread the situation. Maybe you loved him but didn’t want to actually be with him. Maybe he overstepped. 

“And if you never want to pursue anything romantic with me, I’ll understand,” he said. “There won’t be any hard feelings. I’ll always be here for you, whether it’s as a friend or-”

“Shut up.”

Your lips melted against his. Your fingers weaved into his hair and pulled him close. His hands gripped you at the waist and pulled you flush against his body. Everything quieted. the noise from the city, your residual anxiety- it all faded. All that remained was Bucky. His hands, his lips, his stubble scratching against your skin. 

It was odd, getting everything you’d ever wanted. Never did you think this was possible- you didn’t even consider it. You resigned yourself to a life of unhappiness and heartache and longing. You assumed you’d die without ever truly knowing what true love felt like. But you felt it now; it felt like Bucky. 

No part of you wanted to pull away, but you had to. You had to set the record straight. Suddenly, your lips vanished from Bucky’s. He instantly frowned. 

“You didn’t seriously think that I was gonna tell you I’m in love with you and then not pursue a relationship with you, did you?” You threw a dramatic scoff his way, “Are you crazy?” 

“Hey, I don’t know!” Bucky laughed. “I guess what I meant is… I understand. And I just wanted you to know that there’s no pressure. I don’t ever want you to be uncomfortable.”

Once again, your lips found Bucky’s. This was his preferred way of existing now. Any moment spent without your lips on his seemed like a waste.

“I just need some time,” you said, breaking the kiss again. “I promise it won’t be long- I swear. I want to be with you more than anything. I just have some stuff to work through first.”

Bucky ran a hand over your hair. Your shoulder. Your forearm. Finally, he laced his fingers with yours like he had a million times before. But it felt different now. More permanent.

“Of course, sweetheart. You take as long as you need. I’m not worried about the time.”

An exaggerated grimace pulled at your features, and a joking air spilled into your speech. “Oh, good. Cause if I’m remembering correctly, Sam’s birthday party was September twenty-fourth of last year. And today is September twenty-ninth. So, I made you miss the one-year mark by five days, which means he’s not gonna pay up.”

Bucky’s laugh boomed through the small apartment. It bounced off every all, surrounding you with your favorite sound. 

“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Bucky finally said when he caught his breath. “But I’m not worried about it.” His bright smile and joking tone fell away, stripping his words bare. He grew gravely serious. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he said. The authenticity almost scared you. “I’m so happy to have you back where you belong.”

He enveloped you in a long, deep kiss that stole your breath. Only two days ago, you were a rain-soaked, broken-hearted mess. The world was bleak. Cold. Empty. You swore you didn’t see the sun the entire time you were with Alex. But now, the warmth of Bucky’s kindness and warmth perfused everything with bright, vibrant colors. The storm clouds finally parted, revealing the most beautiful, golden daylight. 

And after everything, Bucky was finally yours. 

But he always was. 

Everything you’d been through, all the pain and suffering and misery, brought you to this moment. And you couldn’t think of anything that could ever pull your attention from the way Bucky’s lips felt against hers. 

But something stole your focus.

A strange sound came from your phone- you swore it sound like a ‘cha-ching’. The two of you parted for a moment, allowing you to investigate. 

“Was that- I think that was a Venmo notification…” you said. “But I didn’t-” You pulled your phone from your back pocket and glanced at your screen, only to find the one name you never wanted to see again. Alongside that name, though, was a number- a large number.

“Alex just sent me three thousand dollars.” You narrowed your eyes at Bucky, “Did you do this?”

Bucky’s head fell back in a devious, almost maniacal laugh. “Baby, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

-------------------------------------------

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @onewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @purpleshallot @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

(I don't know what the fuck is going on with my tags, they dont work apparently)

[xxsabitoxx]

I still do it better

Obanai x Mitsuri x Fem! Reader

Sequel to I can do it better

Warnings: rough sex, face sitting, cunnilingus, come eating, unprotected sex, creampies, marking and bruising, degrading, praising, overstimulation, consensual restraining, spitting, biting, breast play, scissoring, group sex, threesome, idk man a lot is going on I’m not gonna lie lmfao

Note: here we go! The long awaited part two. Hope y’all enjoy & I apologize if it doesn’t meet your expectations… this is why I kinda hate sequels I can’t lie 😭

The paragraph lengths vary in size because I had to break them up. They were initially massive paragraphs and I know damn well nobody is gonna want to read all that… so I had to break them up a bit half-hazardously

Word count: 10.5k

Your fingers trailed along your thighs, the small crescent shape bruises were nearly faded. For some reason, that made you feel a bit sad. It had been nearly a week since your encounter with the love and serpent pillars and nearly everyday that had passed since had felt as if you weren’t even there. You pulled yourself from your daze, turning to test the warmth of the bath water that you had been waiting on. You set your robes to the side, letting your body sink into the water and relishing in it as if it were a warm embrace.

You flinched at your own thoughts, you had been feeling utterly touch starved. You were silently longing for their warm bed once again, the soft touch of Mitsuri at your back, the warm breath of Obanai fanning across your shoulder. What got you the most is that you were missing him just as much as you were missing her. Not a day had gone by that your mind didn’t linger on that night. You had initially been so scared of it, the rough treatment Obanai bestowed upon you, the way Mitsuri seemingly cheered him on.

Part of you was mortified that you had enjoyed it so thoroughly. Now, you were aching to be treated like that for a second time. You craved the taste of her arousal, the feeling of his hands on you. They had unintentionally ruined you. You sunk lower in the water, not stopping until it reached just below your nose. You couldn’t believe yourself, betrayed by your own thoughts several times while trying to go about your day to day life. You had no concept of how to bring it up again, the physical reminders left on your skin wouldn’t let you forget.

Yet, part of you was aching for more, not quite satisfied with the marks that remained. You wanted more, from both parties. But above all else, you wanted to prove your worth. You wanted to convince Obanai you were worthy of his cum. Your legs kicked in the water, eyes squeezing shut as you came to the conclusion that you’d simply be plagued with these thoughts until you did something about them. Laying alone in your bed after had been the worst part. Having to drag yourself from their warm home and back to your empty quiet one felt like a death sentence.

“You really don’t have to leave just yet.” Mitsuri was worrying around you, fixing your hair neatly after you refused the offer of a bath. You wanted to wash your skin yourself, not create some fantasy that you’d stay here forever. “I’m fine, really Mitsuri. I need to get back in case I’m summoned for a mission.” You waved her off, thanking her quietly after she finished your hair. “Are you sure? You really don’t want to stay longer? We wouldn’t mind.” Obanai didn’t interject, instead he remained quiet as he began wrapping his face once more on the far side of the room.

He had been awfully quiet since waking up, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence like you were used to. “I appreciate the offer. I truly do. But I have to get back to my own home.” Your hands fidgeted in your lap, moving to stand with a slight limp. “You can’t even walk properly, please stay. Let us help you… it’s the least we could do.” You felt warmth spread across your face, especially since you caught Obanai chuckling softly. “Mitsuri please, if she wants to leave, let her leave.” You didn’t want to leave, but you knew if you stayed you’d fall in deep and never recover.

Little did you know the damage was already done. “Alright… but if you need us, you know where to find us.” Mitsuri’s hands fell to her kimono, fidgeting because she couldn’t quite figure out how to say goodbye. It was a one time thing, there were no strings attached from it. At least that’s what you told yourself as you bowed to them, stepping off their front porch and heading back the way you had come. It was a one time thing, nothing more. It repeated like a mantra as you limped back, face holding on to the embarrassed warmth as you tried your damn hardest to not look like you had just got your ass handed to you. “Damn him.”

You pushed yourself up, the bath water sloshing dangerously close to the edge. “What the hell am I going to do?” you whined to no one, your voice bouncing off the walls and right back at you. It felt like you were being taunted at this point, like the universe was waiting to see how long you would take to crack. You had to wonder what would happen if you just gave in. What if you just dragged your sorry ass back to their estate and begged for a second round… a rematch.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” you rubbed your face, trying your hardest to ignore the slow throb between your legs as your mind betrayed you yet again. “You’re a great stress reliever.” Obanai’s words lingered, probably a lot longer than they should have. The various things he had said to you felt as if they had been engraved on your skin. “Stay still and he’ll stop.” Mitsuri’s voice echoed softly, the gentle scrape of her nails on the back of your skull. Every time you close your eyes, you see them. “This has to be some sort of curse. Maybe Shinobu has something she could give me that will make me forget.”

Forget about the ache of wanting to people who would never want you back. You got out of the bath, not quite able to enjoy it the way you hoped you would be able to. The water ran off of you in rivets, the steam of the room was warm enough to not draw a shiver from you as you reached for a towel to dry yourself off. It was as if your body moved on autopilot, dressing yourself in one of your finer kimonos. It was a risky move, but you couldn’t keep going on like this without at least trying. Your fingers trailed along your face, head tilting left and right to make sure your hair looked alright.

You reached for your perfumed oils, dabbing a bit on your pulse points. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if putting on a bit of makeup would be too much. In the end you decided against it, you’d head out as you were. The worst that could happen would be rejection, then maybe you’d be able to move on. “It’s nearly 10pm, showing up at their home at this time will make me seem insane.” Yet, you were still stepping off your porch and into the moonlight, a clear destination in your mind. You sighed, knowing there was also the chance that neither of them may be home.

It was night after all, they could be patrolling their sectors and not be home till morning. Then, you’d feel like an absolute desperate idiot for doing this. Yet, the off chance that things would fall perfectly into place started propelling you further. The walk itself wasn’t a long one, you had come to find that you only lived about fifteen minutes from the two pillar’s estate. Thinking back on it, you only found your way home because of Mitsuri’s crow guiding you. How it knew your coordinates you’d never know, especially since Mitsuri had never been to your home. That, however, was a question for another day.

You steadied your breathing as the trees grew few and far between, eventually leading to the open space that their shared estate resides on. The estate itself was large, not as large as the butterfly estate but still quite spacious. A simple stone pathway leads up to the large roofed porch and double doors that would grant you entrance. You had to admire the amount of work Mitsuri put into her home, various wild flowers were planted along the pathway. You kept moving, slightly motivated by the various windows that held the light of glowing candles. It seems the two pillars were home, honestly it sent a chill of anxiety down your spine. Things had been so much easier when Mitsuri was the one initiating everything.

You stopped just before the small set of stairs leading up to the door, the quiet rustle of fabric making the hair on the back of your neck prickle. “Are you trying to scare the shit out of me, Obanai?” Your jaw clenched after speaking, a lame attempt at acting tough when in truth he’d scared the shit out of you. “Good to know you have some sort of spatial awareness.” He emerged from the shadows a moment later, still dressed in his corps uniform with Kaburamaru still sitting around his neck. You bit your tongue, scrunching your nose in disdain as he gave you a once over. “I noticed you as I was walking home, took a shortcut to beat you here.'' He looked almost smug about it, arms moving to cross his chest as he waited for you to say something.

“Oh so you’ve just finished patrolling for the night? I guess you’ll be of no use for what I came here for… Mitsuri’s home though, right?” You moved up the stairs, freezing when his arm shot out to prevent you from making it to the door. “That’s a sharp tongue for someone who’s trying to enter my house.” you glanced down at his arm before looking back up at him. “It’s the truth… I did come here for your girlfriend after all… not you.” You couldn’t see it, but you could just tell there was a shit eating grin creeping up his face. “You’re such a fucking liar.” you forced your expression to remain neutral, you knew you were a liar but you had hoped he wouldn’t see straight through you. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Kaburamaru hissed softly, reaching out to look at you better.

“Even Kaburamaru knows you’re full of shit.” Obanai’s hand moved to mockingly allow you entrance, pointing to the front door. “But if you’re so determined, go ahead and enter. I’m sure Mitsuri will be thrilled to see you.” There was a catch, you could tell by the glint in his eyes. There was something he knew that you didn’t. You stepped tentatively, pausing as your hand reached for the knob. “Go on, since you’re so desperate for her, there should be nothing holding you back.” The bite in his tone, everything you did that so much as pissed him off would only come around to bite you later.

That’s what it was, you realized quickly as you pushed on the knob and entered. He was observing your every move to use against you. “Obanai? That you?” Mitsuri’s voice echoed through the entryway, “Yeah, it’s me. We have a guest.” The rustle of cloth was followed by footsteps. “A guest?” Pink hair rounded the corner a moment later. Mitsuri’s hair was down, holding a faint wave from her three braids she typically wore. She was dressed in her sleepwear, the front of her kimono dangerously low and exposing her breasts. “I was just getting ready for bed. I didn't think we–Y/N!?”she stopped rubbing her eyes, blinking in surprise as she looked you over.

“Y-yeah, it’s me. If you were getting ready for bed then I can go…” You stopped mid-step backwards as Obanai’s hand grabbed your upper arm. “No! No it’s no trouble at all…I uhm…I assume…” Mitsuri’s face was steadily turning pink, apparently it was too obvious to everyone as to why you had hauled yourself over here. “She’s here for the reason you think, lovely. Seems she can’t stop thinking about you… though she claims to want nothing to do with me.” Obanai’s grip tightened, duo-tone eyes watching Mitsuri’s shift between the two of you.

“O-oh I see… well…” You could see the slight disappointment in her gaze, you wanted to turn and slap the serpent pillar for making you seem like a complete asshole. “That’s not true!” you swallowed your pride, even though it was literally the last thing you wanted to do. There was no point and no fun in any of this if Mitsuri was uncomfortable by the idea of you wanting nothing to do with her boyfriend. “Oh, It’s not?” Obanai jeered, he needed to hear you say it. “You’re such a dick, though I’m sure you know that…'' you glanced at Mitsuri, not able to hold Obanai’s gaze as you spoke.

“I-I came here because I can’t stop thinking about either of you. If you’re willing…I’d like to do it all again.” Heat flooded your body from head to toe, primarily in your ears. Neither spoke, for a moment you had to question if you’d crossed a line. “You would? Really?” Mitsuri’s eyes seemed to regain their sparkle, hands clasping excitedly in front of her. “Y-yes… if you’d have me… both of you.” Obanai should have known you’d turn into nothing more than a timid kitten when in Mitsuri’s presence. He couldn’t necessarily say he blamed you for it. As kind as she was, she was someone you didn’t want to upset or disappoint.

“Of course we’ll have you. Come along, let’s go upstairs, we can discuss more there.” Mitsuri’s hand reached for your own, Obanai’s grip letting you go as she dragged you towards the stairs. He stayed behind for a moment, watching Mitsuri practically hauled you up the stairs in her own haste. He had expected you to return a lot quicker than you did, for a moment he almost found himself impressed by your will to resist your desires. “Obanai?” Mitsuri’s voice pulled him from his daze, “Coming, I was just taking off my shoes.” his sandals were kicked off a moment later, Kaburamaru hissing softly. “Yes, I know. I’ll give you your dinner in a moment.”

“He’ll take a moment, he has to put Kaburamaru to bed. For now, make yourself comfortable.” The sleepiness the love pillar had felt was long since forgotten, replaced by a bubbling heat and shiver of excitement. There had been so many things she wanted to do, so many things that she had thought about doing since you had left that day. She had even considered going over to your estate only a few days after the fact to ask you if you’d like to do it all again. Obanai had convinced her otherwise, saying it was better if you came to them since they were the ones to go to you first.

He was certain you’d come back, though Mitsuri couldn’t really figure out why he was so sure of it. “You look beautiful.” Mitsuri smiled as she looked you over. “Oh-thank you… you look beautiful as well.” You hoped it looked effortless, as effortless as Mitsuri looked. Though something about the smile on her face told you she knew you had put a little bit of time into your appearance before coming over. “You’re so cute, y/n-chan. You’re trying so hard to not seem flustered but I see right through you.” She sauntered across the room, not stopping until she stood right before you. One motion and you knew she wanted you to open your legs, allowing her closer.

“You’re desperate aren’t you? It’s okay to admit it…” she reached to hold your face, holding you so you couldn’t look away from her. “… I am too.” “Y-you are?” You weren’t sure why you felt so vulnerable, part of you felt like you were a bother for coming over. “Of course I am, I’ve been thinking about you since you left last week. I wanted to go after you the moment you disappeared from our sight. I even had my crow follow you to make sure you got home alright.” Her thumb was brushing your cheek bone, green eyes scanning every inch of your features. “That so?” Your voice was just above a whisper, hoarse with desire. Her gentle reassurance quickly had your doubt melting away, replacing it with the desire that had driven you to this point.

“Of course it’s so.” Obanai was standing in the doorway, his haori discarded somewhere out of your sight. “Mitsuri…and I… were concerned about you. You left quickly after all, you never gave us a chance to discuss things with you.” “Discuss things…?” You glanced between the two pillars. “Yes, a lot happened, you know. And you were scurrying out the door… I should say limping out the door…” Mitsuri shot him a look, one that had him throwing his hands in his defense. “…anyways. I didn’t take it easy on you, then you were quick to leave after. Would have been nice if you stuck around to at least assure me you enjoyed yourself. I may treat you like a dick but I’m not heartless.” He stepped into the room, making his way to the vanity table Mitsuri had set up. “So, before we do anything… Did you enjoy yourself last time? Anything you’d like to do differently this time?” He began to unwrap his bandages, Mitsuri’s hands gently guided you back to looking at her. “Well, y/n? Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I… of course I did. I mean I was a bit overwhelmed at first but… I enjoyed it a lot. I… wouldn't have you do anything differently… honestly.” Your eyes squeezed shut as you uttered the last words, finally admitting to yourself more so than them that you did, in fact, enjoy the rough treatment. “That’s good to hear, though it would have been better to hear it a week ago.” Mitsuri let go of your cheek as Obanai spoke, stepping away from you with a small smile. Your head turned to look at the serpent pillar, face growing warm as you observed his unmasked face. Even in the dull glow of the candle light his scars stuck out. His eyebrows raised subtly, as if he was surprised to see you staring. You looked away quickly, chewing on your inner cheek in a failed attempt at not being embarrassed for getting caught.

“Well, if we’re all on the same page… why don’t we give it another go?” Mitsuri was shouldering off her kimono as she spoke, an innocent smile plastered to her face as her breasts spilled out of the top. There was something almost comical about the way both you and Obanai’s eyes zeroed in on her breasts, as if she were dangling candy in front of a baby. “Y-yeah… another go sounds good…” your skin prickled with desire, hands coming down to pull at the belt that kept your kimono in place. You stood a little quicker than you intended, the garment falling apart half hazardously as you tried to shoulder it off. “Eager… how cute.” Mitsuri was in front of you a moment later, helping you tug the garments off as Obanai observed quietly as he did before.

He loved to let Mitsuri take the lead, obediently waiting for her green light to do as he pleased. He didn’t mind it in the slightest, especially not when he was watching two women undress each other. His arms came to cross over his chest again, falling to lean back against the wall. You took the opportunity to close the distance, crashing your lips to Mitsuri’s and swallowing the noises of surprise she made. Your hands found her breasts easily, kneading the soft flesh for a moment before you moved closer, pressing your chest to hers. The noises of approval, her hands on your bare waist as your kimono fell in a heap on the floor, every motion causing your confidence to soar. “…bed.” It was breathless, saliva connecting your lips even after separating.

You let her go, dropping back to your spot on the edge of the bed. “Perfect… Now lay back.” You did as she asked, propping yourself on your elbows to watch her bend down to toss both of your kimonos to the side. “Obanai… you’ll do as I ask, right?” Your gaze shifted between the two, the smile on his face was enough to make your heart skip. “Of course.” It was almost effortless, as if the two had discussed things prior to your arrival. “Good.” Mitsuri was crawling onto the bed a moment later, arms and legs caging you in as she smiled down at you. “Lay back fully, no need for you to be up at all.” Again, you did as she instructed, completely enthralled by her and her closeness. “You did such a good job last time, eating me out and such…” you swallowed, eyes widening as your hazy brain began connecting the dots.

“I want you to do it again… just a different position this time. If that’s alright?” You blinked a few times, “you’re asking if it's alright to sit on my face?” You needed to hear her say it, not just imply it. Mitsuri’s face warmed considerably at your bluntness. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.” Yet she didn’t miss a beat. “Then, yes. Absolutely it’s alright.” There was no point in hiding your eagerness, not when your entire body seemed to throb with the desire to please her… and to please yourself. “Good girl…” the sudden praise sent a shiver through you, hands reaching to find purchase on her thighs as she crawled further up your body. “Real quick before we start… one tap on my thigh signals that you’re doing good when I ask. Two taps means you need to pause… three means you can’t breathe and need me to get up. Simple enough?”

This was a new side of Mitsuri, a side that took charge when Obanai wasn’t in the mix just yet. You loved it. “Yes, that’s simple enough.” You swore you heard Obanai chuckle at your obedience. Then again you couldn’t be annoyed when Mitsuri’s cunt was just inches from your face. “Alright then…” you swallowed again, watching as Mitsuri pushed herself up one last time. Plush thighs caged your head, Mitsuri’s cunt was hovering just above your face now. “Sit… please.” You begged softly, all too eager to feel her soft thighs squeeze your head. Mitsuri chuckled softly but lowered herself down just as you asked. Your tongue darted out immediately, licking fat stripes up her folds until they were slick with your saliva. Your nails dug into the soft plush of her thighs, dragging her down further as you lapped at her entrance.

The angle itself caused your nose to bump her clit every few passes, but created the perfect position to edge her for a while. Soft noises escaped the woman above you, her hips rocking ever so slight against your eager tongue. You drew the first moan from her when you tilted just enough to graze her clit with your tongue. Her warmth was intoxicating, making you feel warm all over as you licked and sucked at her cunt. Tentatively you prodded her entrance, collecting the taste of her arousal on your tongue as her head fell back. “You’re so good at this…” the feeling of her hands threading through your hair sent you into overdrive, tongue moving even quicker against her dripping cunt. The longer you worked on her the more prominent the throb between your own legs became.

“Spread your legs for me, please…” she moaned softly, hand reaching back to tap the flesh of your thigh. You spread them effortlessly and without hesitation, shivering as your cunt was revealed to the cooler air of the room. You were wet, embarrassingly so at this point. After only a few minutes of eating her out, you were dripping and needy. You weren’t quite sure what she was planning, considering she went back to gripping your hair and moaning praises as you worked. You nearly forgot about it after a minute, especially as Mitsuri’s first orgasm hit her at full speed. “O-oh fuck…” she yelped, hips jerking agaisnt your unrelenting tongue until she pulled herself up just a bit. You could catch your breath for a moment before tugging her desperately back down… she wasn’t going to deny you after all.

You tilted your chin upwards again, angling yourself to lick and suck at her already sensitive clit. Her whimpers and moans were all you could hear over the muffling of her thighs caging your head. When you felt something wet and warm on your own cunt, it came as a complete surprise. The noise that left you proved it, Mitsuri’s laughter following. “Don’t worry… it’s just Obanai.” You figured that much but the realization that his tongue was on your pussy was enough to freeze you up for a moment, mind drawing a blank. You tapped twice, shock causing you to need a moment so you could gasp for air. Mitsuri lifted herself, smiling down at you as Obanai’s hands gripped the flesh of your thighs, keeping them spread. “Don’t tell me you can’t handle this…” Obanai’s mouth was hovering your cunt, eyes trailing over your breasts and further up to taken in Mitsuri’s ass and back. “You caught her by surprise.”

Mitsuri spoke for you, rather likely the way your pupils seemed to dilate in response. Obanai made a noise of disinterest before lowering again, tongue slipping between your folds to prod at your clit. A shaky gasp left you, body feeling so warm you swore you’d melt into a puddle. You dragged Mitsuri back down, needing to feel her weight back on you. It was almost comforting in an odd way. You lapped at her cunt the best you could, a wet mess of your saliva and her arousal covered your chin. All the while Obanai was teasing your entrance with one finger, mouth suctioned to your aching clit. He was relentless, just like last time, not giving you any moment to adjust by starting off rough and fast.

You could already feel the familiar tension building, everything was too much, making you too sensitive. The moment he curled that one finger your thighs shook, but it wasn’t enough to push you over the edge. He knew that, which is why he kept doing it. The goosebumps that prickled your skin were a dead giveaway to him. So he didn’t adjust whatsoever, instead he dangled your orgasm right out of your reach. Every thrust of his finger had arousal dripping out of you, wetter and wetter as his saliva covered your cunt. You tried your best to keep up, the awkward angle making it a bit hard to do exactly what you wanted.

So, you tapped her thigh twice. “You okay?” She cooed softly, chest heaving as she had been just seconds away from coming a second time. “Yeah but…” you moaned as Obanai added a second finger, laughing softly at your reaction. “Can you turn around? Sit on my face the other direction.” It would be much easier for you if she could do that. “Oh? Sure…” Mitsuri moved herself around, locking eyes with Obanai as she did. He pulled away from your cunt, mouth and chin shining with your arousal. “Hey pretty.” You sucked in a breath, not used to the tender voice he was using with her.

Mitsuri giggled softly, moving backwards until she was hovering over your face again. Obanai watched, two fingers still knuckle deep and scissoring you open. You dragged Mitsuri down again, lips suction to her clit and sucking. “O-oh!” Mitsuri nearly fell forward, the new intensity bringing her right back to the brink of her second orgasm. “O-Obanai… can I?” His eyes shifted from her face to where your mouth was. After a second he connected the dots. “By all means, pretty.” You had no idea what was going on above and below you, too focused on getting her to cum a second time. Your chest seemed to freeze, breath sucked straight from your lungs as you felt Mitsuri’s body press to yours.

A second later you felt what was undeniably her tongue, not Obanai’s. The realization along with the sensation was almost dizzying. Obanai’s fingers resumed their normal pace as he watched Mitsuri eat you out instead of him. This time there was no edging, no teasing, Mitsuri was determined to bring you over the edge the same time you bought her over it. Which wouldn’t be hard at all considering how worked up you’d been due to Obanai’s stingy attitude. There was something incredibly lewd about the sight before him, maybe it was the sounds… no it was definitely the sounds… that were getting him the most.

Your pussy was squelching with each thrust of his fingers, walls suctioning to them as if you were trying to hold onto him. There were also the noises you were both making, the moans, the sound of wet tongues sliding along each other’s most sensitive parts… he cursed under his breath. His pants were far too tight, even though he had discarded his uniform top his skin was way too warm. He withdrew his fingers a moment later, placing his hand back on your other thigh to keep you spread. Your arousal smeared across your skin where his fingers gripped you, if you weren’t so occupied you would have complained about his withdrawal.

Obanai, however, had other plans. He watched Mitsuri for a moment longer before ducking his own head back down. The love pillar seemed a bit surprised as his head brushed hers, it only took a moment to understand what he was after. The angle was a bit awkward but he managed to fit his face down where Mitsuri couldn’t reach. While she was busy sucking on your clit, Obanai began fucking you with his tongue. Now your mind was really going hazy, your tongue’s eagerness halting all together as you simply forgot how to breathe. It was almost too much, too much warmth, too much stimulation… way too lewd for you to handle when Mitsuri was sitting snugly on your face.

You ached to see it, letting your imagination run wild with the ideas of what the two pillars looked like as they ate you out. Mitsuri took the initiative to begin rocking her hips against you, needing to reach her own release a second time. Especially since it was so close, she couldn’t let you leave her hanging again. Mitsuri’s gasp sent you spiraling, orgasm washing over you so intensely that you couldn’t help but cry out against her cunt as she came with you. After a few seconds, Mitsuri pushed herself off of you, falling to a heap right beside you on the bed. Obanai pulled away, taking the opportunity to stand and begin undoing the belt of his pants.

He looked over both of you, chests heaving as you tried to calm down. “Don’t tell me you’ve both worn yourselves out.” there was a small bit of relief as the restriction of his uniform fell off of him. He wiped his mouth of your arousal, watching as Mitsuri pushed herself up to look down at you. “S-still with us?” You nodded, hands rubbing your face to get rid of the shine. “Y-yeah… fuck.” Mitsuri smiled, different from her others, lazier. It sent your heart into a frenzy. “Do you wanna lay this way instead? It’ll be easier for what I want to do next.” You did as she asked, moving to lay on the bed regularly rather than sprawling across it.

“W-what exactly do you have in mind.” You had come to the conclusion that the two pillars must have discussed things at some point. Given the fact that Obanai wasn’t raising any questions, instead giving Mitsuri full reigns to do as she pleased for the time being. “Don’t worry, you get to relax for this. I’ll be doing all the work.” You let her move your legs, spreading them wide to reveal your cunt again. You watched her curiously, turning her body to hook one of your legs under her own. It took a moment but you quickly realized what she was doing yet again. “I-oh… I see…”

Your hands found purchase in their bedsheets, a terrible attempt at grounding yourself as Mitsuri slotted her cunt against yours. “I heard that this is supposed to be pretty fun.” She commented offhandedly, rocking her hips against yours. It was warm, slick enough that her hips gilded easily. Obanai studied you particularly closely, watching as you angled yourself better to aid Mitsuri. It was a bit addicting, watching the two of you fumble around. He would gladly let Mitsuri try all of the things she didn’t get to last time, but there was only so long he could wait before needing to put you back in your place.

The throbbing was only getting worse, but Obanai was a man of patience, he could resist his own temptation in order to really take it out on you. He’d never admit it to your face, but he’d been thinking about you just as often as Mitsuri had been. He was eagerly waiting for you to come crawling back, begging for more, just as Mitsuri hoped you would. Though she worded it far nicer than he ever could.

“Do you think she’s alright…” Mitsuri sighed, clinging to Obanai’s arm a moment later as you finally disappeared from their sight. “She’s fine, she’ll likely walk off the limp by the end of the day.” The dissatisfied sigh that left the woman beside him was enough for him to know that’s not what she meant. “You were really rough on her, I’ve never seen you act like that in the bedroom.” Obanai knew that was coming, though for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel like explaining himself on the matter.

“If she didn’t like it, she would have asked me to stop.” Silence fell between the two as they stood in the doorway of their estate. He really wished you hadn’t run off so quickly, there were far too many questions that they wanted answers to. “Should I go visit her tomorrow?” Obanai shook his head, taking a step back and pulling Mitsuri along with him as they entered their estate once more. “Leave her be for now. If she wants to, she’ll come back when she’s ready.” Mitsuri didn’t seem satisfied with that answer but decided to leave it alone.

“Mitsuri, you’ll have us here for hours at this rate.” Obanai was moving onto the bed, you realized that at some point he had discarded all of his clothing. You’d been much too busy with Mitsuri to even notice. “B-but… it’s so…” she huffed, the tingling remnants of an orgasm hovering just out of her reach. “It’s frustrating, that’s what it is.” He was moving behind her, hands trailing up her sides. “See, you’re even breaking a sweat, pretty girl.” His tone was enough to make you look away, for some reason it felt more intimate than the position you and Mitsuri were in.

“I-I’m so… close just give us a minute.” Mitsuri’s hips swiveled against yours quicker, whining softly as Obanai’s hands made it to her breasts. You glanced at her again, one hand reaching forward in hopes of her coming closer. She caught on, breaking away from her boyfriend to crash her lips to yours. For a moment, Obanai was reminded of the fact that this was likely still a competition in your eyes. Essentially being ignored for this long was finally getting on his nerves. He was more than willing to let Mitsuri have her fun, but your sly little tricks to keep Mitsuri away from him… he was at his wits end. “You’re not as subtle as you think.” You knew it was directed at you, that alone had you smiling into her hungry kiss.

Obanai clicked his tongue, moving to pull Mitsuri back towards him. “C’mon now, you’ve had your fun…” he cooed as she gasped, her third orgasm of the night hitting her as she fell into him. You were dazed, Obanai had pulled her away just before you were able to cum. “Remember what we talked about?” You watched them intently, pushing yourself up into a sitting position with your legs still tangled in her’s. “I-I Sorta do.” Obanai chuckled, motioning for Mitsuri to sit up by the pillows. “You’ll remember better in a minute.” He let her go, watching as she untangled herself from you.

With Mitsuri out of the way, you were left on full display for Obanai. Nothing was separating him from you now, especially as Mitsuri settled just behind you on the mattress. “I’d like to think that we’ve been lingering in your mind.” the comment had scrunching your nose, not quite seeing where he was taking this. “Tell me, have you touched yourself thinking about us?” your legs immediately wanted to snap shut as his eyes dragged over your glistening cunt. “I haven’t actually… couldn’t satisfy myself in the way you both did.” It tumbled past your lips despite your body’s natural reaction to shrink away.

Obanai seemed pleased with that answer, hand wrapping around the base of his neglected cock, finally giving it a small bit of attention. “Hmm? That’s just what I wanted to hear.” he chuckled softly, breathier than normal as he stroked himself slowly. “How pathetic you must have looked…felt…nothing but your fingers and it still did nothing for you.” He ruined you, so did Mitsuri. If you had the capacity to think of anything outside of the two of them at this given moment… You’d be wondering how you’d go on with your life after this came to an end. “Probably sounded pathetic too…” you weren’t sure what made you want to feed into his narrative, but the red coating his cheeks as he spoke to you made you want to see him crumble.

“Hmm? Why’s that?” Mitsuri spoke for you, hands coming up to run through your disheveled hair with her eyes locked on Obanai’s fist. “Couldn’t stop whining… it was frustrating you know… kept thinking about the two of you…” Obanai inhaled sharply, torn between wanting to put you in your place and ease your previous frustrations. Though he couldn’t understand why he was even torn in the first place… that was a thought for later. “Oh? I’d that’s the case why don’t you tell me how badly you want this.” He motioned to his cock, head tilting and eager to hear what you would say.

“Haven’t I given you enough? Or would you rather I fuck your girlfriend again to prove it?” Mitsuri suppressed a giggle, shifting herself so your head was in her lap. Leaning her weight on her free hand, she continued to stroke your hair. Obanai huffed out a humorless laugh, “You’re still a fucking pain.” You yelped as he suddenly grabbed your ankles, holding them as tightly. “Mitsuri, remember now?” Obanai’s tone changed as he spoke to her, purposely ignoring your wide eyes. “Yeah, I believe I do.” Her fingers left your hair, trailing down to your arm and stopping when she reached your wrist.

You glanced up at her, watching as she found herself a new position and reached for your other wrist. Now, she sat behind you, head on her lap and legs tucked neatly underneath herself. She brought your wrists together slowly, holding them in a gentle grip that you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape from even if you wanted to. “Good job.” Obanai cooed as he moved closer, shifting his grip from your ankles to your calves as he pushed your legs towards your chest. “Mitsuri wanted me to take it easier on you this time around, she’d like me to be gentle with you…” now, he fully pressed your legs to your chest, forcing you into an awkward position, one you couldn’t move from. “I told her no.”

You swallowed, being completely restrained sent a chill down your spine, the second orgasm you’d been denied of only moments prior was prickling your skin. That familiar throb returned, aching so deeply it was as if you never came in the first place. Obanai angled himself, pressing the dull head of his cock to your weeping entrance, no assistance needed. “You don’t mind, right? You like when I use you like a fuck toy… it’s why you came back, yeah?” You would say or agree to anything in that moment, especially with the way he was shallowly thrusting against you, teasing you by not entering at all.

“C’mon…I won’t do anything till you tell me I’m right…” he pressed his hips forward, the head of his cock splitting you open. You inhaled sharply, hands flexing in Mitsuri’s grasp as you sought for something to ground you. “Y-yes… fuck you… seriously… but yes. Use me… please just fucking—“ Obanai cut you off, pressing his hips forward and bottoming out immediately, watching intently as you squealed and squirmed from the sudden intrusion. Your eyes had squeezed shut, lips trembling as you tried to steady your breathing. You were wet enough that bottoming out within a second hadn’t hurt but the stretch had certainly taken your breath away.

“Ah, Obanai…” Mitsuri’s brows were creased with worry, easily switching both of your wrists to one hand so she could caress your cheek with the other. “She can take it.” He spoke through gritted teeth, heart thumping wildly as your walls spasmed and suctioned to him. Maybe he had neglected himself a little too much during you and Mitsuri’s foreplay. He could feel himself throbbing, threatening already to spill a load deep inside of you. It pissed him off to no end, especially since he had no intentions of cumming in you. He still didn’t think you were quite ready for that yet, he still didn’t think you deserved it. “Can you?” Mitsuri’s question caught both of you off guard, your eyes flying wide to stare up at Mitsuri before moving to stare at Obanai who was hovering over you.

“Oh? You’re picking up on her sharp tongue, aren’t you, pretty girl.” Obanai chuckled, though you could tell it was a bit strained. He hadn’t moved yet, the grip on your legs would likely leave bruises. It thrilled you. Mitsuri sighed, thumb still rubbing along your cheek as she gripped your wrists together. “Just seems like you’re trying not to cum, Obanai.” You didn’t think she had it in her, her voice had taken on a sultry undertone, different from the breathy whines she bestowed upon you. “Watch it…” he gritted out, face bright red as his eyes squeezed shut.

He hadn’t expected Mitsuri to defend you… though he couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy seeing her do so. “Well? Is her pussy that good?” You swore you were dreaming, that’s what it is, you were dreaming right? You never would have thought Mitsuri was capable of talking in such a way. Obanai seemed a bit hesitant, as if she were testing him by asking. “I’m serious, it’s not like I have the ability to feel it the way you do…” it clicked, she was a bit envious. “I mean I know how good it feels from the outside… but inside… ahh I wish I could know! Tell me please, Obanai.”

For a moment your eyes locked, you and Obanai sharing the same look of disbelief as Mitsuri rambled on. It took him a moment to collect himself, he had gotten passed the point of nearly coming but now he needed to wrap his brain around everything Mitsuri had said. “I…uhm…good… it feels good.” He swallowed, looking up at Mitsuri through his lashes. “Ah that’s not good enough! Describe it to me…” she whined softly, the feeling making your entire body squirm. You needed him to move, if not you were convinced you’d lose your mind being stuffed so full while listening to them speak in such a way about you.

“It’s…shit… it’s warm…” it was a slow start, just as slow as he dragged his hips backwards before pushing in again. The fraction of a movement, barely there but enough to have you gritting your teeth. “C’mon Obanai… you can do better than that…” Mitsuri sighed “you could also do better if you moved.” She had a disappointing tone, as if upset Obanai wasn’t doing as she asked of him. That seemed to be enough to jumpstart his brain…and his hips… as he gasped. Legs still pressed to your chest, he used them for leverage as he pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into you.

A loud, shaking moan slipped past your lips as he repeated the process, pistoning his hips until you couldn’t see straight. “I’m waiting…” she mewled softly, watching your face contorted in pleasure while Obanai seemed to be biting his tongue. “It’s…” he groaned as your walls suctioned and spasmed around him, your cunt was good, too good even, and it irked him to no end. Admitting that out loud just may kill him, but disappointing Mitsuri seemed like a far worse fate to face. “It’s good…fuck it’s so wet.”

You inhaled sharply, skin prickling with sweat as he spoke. Your pain was fully outweighed by the pleasure, though you were certain your body would be sore after. “It’s tight too, hot and wet and tight…soft…” his hips stuttered as he lost control over his words, taking only a moment before he found his rhythm again. “And it’s still undeserving of my cock.” He gritted out, looking you in the eye now without any embarrassment. “It’s the pussy of a little fucking whore.” The smile was strained, but it sent a shrill of arousal through your entire body, walls fluttering uncontrollably.

“Oh…” she cooed softly, urging him to keep going as your moans turned to cries. Tears burned your eyes, clit throbbing and neglected as he continued to pound into you. You couldn’t even figure out where the tears had come from, but that didn’t matter one bit. Not when Obanai’s pupils seemed to drown out the color of his eyes, completely enthralled by the wet streams running towards your temples. He wanted to see them streak your face, the same way they did when he shoved his cock so far down your throat… “What a little whore… mad that I won’t make you my cum dumpster?”

He chuckled, hips meeting your body particularly hard, dragging an unrestrained yelp from you. “Answer me or I won’t move.” Mitsuri was quietly hypnotized by the scene playing out right before her, cunt throbbing with needy desire. She couldn’t tell who she wanted to be more… Obanai was never this rough with her but she’d give anything to experience you the way he was right now.

“Obanai…” you whined softly, his own name coming from your lips caught him by surprise. “Please…” you didn’t even know what you were asking for, uttering the words in hope that he’d somehow decipher it. “Obanai… kiss her.” Mitsuri instructed softly, the tears leaking from your eyes never slowed. Obanai stopped for a minute, teasing you by only leaving half of his length inside.

“Kiss her? Why should I do that?” He hadn’t kissed you ever, not last time and you assumed he wouldn’t this time. “Because I want you to… I’m sure she wants you to… you want to.” Mitsuri’s face was flushed, pupils dilated and eyes filled with need. Obanai couldn’t say no when she looked like that. You watched him, chest heaving as you sniffled, waiting for him to act. Obanai shifted more of his weight onto you, hands gripping your legs so intensely you were certain there would be bruises for a while. His hips pushed into you again, just as his lips crashed to yours. It was sloppy, a mess of teeth and tongue.

You cried into the kiss, the new closeness allowed you the tiniest bit of friction for your aching clit. Each thrust had his hips slapping into yours, abdomen pressing to your lower half just as tightly. Obanai seemed to lose himself a bit, kissing you so deeply you forgot how to breathe. He parted a moment later, head ducking to bury itself in your neck as he bit down on the sensitive skin. You yelped, body flinching as his teeth threatened to break your skin. “There…” he pulled away, admiring the deep indents of his teeth.

Mitsuri watched as your lips met his again, the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts. She had to wonder how he was holding up so well, considering he was seconds away from falling apart after entering you. Though, maybe that offhand thought had jinxed him. Obanai’s thrusts turned sloppy, he was convinced he could last long enough to pull out of you right when the timing was right. It wouldn’t be that hard, he’s done it before.

Yet you continued to prove him wrong, walls tightening like a vice around his cock, pulling his orgasm straight through him. He gasped into your mouth, pure shock as he dragged his hips out of you, spurting the rest of his release on your cunt. Though, it had been too late, some of his cum had been released deep inside of you. His face was bright red, a look of shock on all three of your faces as his lips parted from yours. The room was quiet save for your ragged breathing, you couldn’t quite believe that he had messed up. Though it drew a cocky smile up your tired face, “I-I thought you weren’t gonna give me your cum… thought I wasn’t good enough…” you glanced up a Mitsuri, her eyes locked on your cum covered cunt.

Obanai couldn’t meet your eyes for a moment, he too was watching his own release slip out of your fluttering hole. “Mitsuri…” his voice was low, the grip on your legs finally loosening enough for you to relax them a bit. “Hmm?” She was hiding a smile, wishing he would have dumped the whole load in. “You’re going to fix this.” He moved away from you entirely, dick still twitching with need despite coming. “Fix it?” She let go of your wrists, watching as you managed to stretch while keeping your legs spread in order to not smear his cum. “Yes, you’re going to clean her up… with your mouth.” Obanai had made enough room for Mitsuri to take his place, hand wrapping around his cock tightly.

“And you’re going to make up for it.” You watched him motion towards his cock before meeting her eyes again. “You caused this, after all.” You blinked, watching Mitsuri move without hesitation, settling below you on her stomach, ass in the air for him. “H-how’d Mitsuri cause this?” You yelped as the pink haired woman dragged her nails over your thighs, hands kneading the squishy flesh before dragging you closer. “Doesn’t matter, but seeing that she’s complying so easily, she knows I’m right.” Mitsuri only chuckled, tongue licking up your thigh. You couldn’t complain, not when you still felt a cocky sense of pride over what happened. 

Instead of cleaning you up like he instructed, Mitsuri used two fingers to collect the rest of his release. You gasped as she plunged both fingers inside, forcing more of his cum in you. Obanai watched with parted lips, hand coming to knead the flesh of Mitsuri’s ass before lining his cock up with her entrance. “She really is rubbing off on you, you’re usually so obedient.” Mitsuri hummed before moving her mouth to hover over your clit, looking at you with a small smile. “I’ve come to see why y/n finds it so fun to mess with you… you’re pretty hot when you’re mad and embarrassed.” Her mouth met your clit a moment later, tongue lapping at it. 

Obanai scoffed, rosy blush on his cheeks as he pressed his hips forward. Even when mad, he still managed to take things easy on her. At least… easier than he did with you. Mitsuri’s stuttering breath had your head tilting back, the orgasm that had been dangled out of your reach that whole time was now in your grasp. Sloppy and uneven thrusts forced Mitsuri’s mouth against your cunt in various amounts of pressure. The tension in your gut building with each struggling suck and lick as Obanai’s hips met her ass with each thrust. “Gonna cum again?” He was seething, yet perfectly able to control himself when it came to Mitsuri. 

“Fuck…yes…” you slurred out, walls twitching around her fingers as she messily plunged them in and out of you. You came crashing down around her, a loud breathless moan escaping your lips as your body arched off the mattress. Mitsuri whined, losing balance as your body moved away from her. Obanai watched both of you in fascination, yet he was not willing to let himself get distracted like he did before. That’s why he blamed Mitsuri, asking him to kiss you had fully thrown him off. He had become so engulfed in you that he didn’t even recognize the warning signs until he was already diving head first off of the cliff. 

His hips moved in a hasty rhythm, the flesh of Mitsuri’s ass rippling each time he moved forward. It was addicting, just as addicting as to it fucked out expression as you tried to sit yourself up. “Don’t run off now…hah…I’m not done yet.” Obanai fixed you in place with a hard glare, your eyes immediately shifting down to the mumbling and drooling mess below you. Mitsuri was on the brink of another orgasm, at this point she had lost count of how many she had. The only thought ringing through her mind was how well both of you treated her. “Y/n… Obanai…” you it names left her in a struggling mantra, drunk off of both of your bodies. 

“Come for me, pretty girl… I know you want to.” Sweat was dripping down his temple, abdomen going taut as he tried to hold himself back. He had other plans in mind, he refused to come until he was able to achieve them. You, on the other hand, moved forward, body feeling like gelatin as you moved towards him. Obanai’s eyebrow cocked, watching as you struggled to move to the opposite end of Mitsuri. You nearly collapsed into him, watching as the pink haired woman squashed her cheek into the mattress, no longer able to support herself.

“Here…come for us please…” your hand snaked lower, finding her clit and rubbing it quickly. Overstimulation nearly overpowered her pleasure as a high pitched shriek left her, her final orgasm ripping through her body as a gush of warm liquid splattered Obanai, your hand and the sheets below. “Holy shit…” you croaked as she fell limply against the mattress, pulling Obanai out of her in the process. “Fucking filthy…” Obanai sneered, as he looked at you. “Get on your knees.” He ordered a moment later, cock wet and shining from Mitsuri’s release. 

You nearly fell off of the bed, knees hitting the wooden floor unceremoniously. You knew what was coming next, it sent a shrill of arousal through you as he got off of the bed with you. “Open your mouth… though from the looks of it you know what’s coming, don’t you? You little whore.” Your mouth parted, tongue sticking out as he grabbed your cheeks with his free hand. As excited as you were, you still clinched when a glob of his spit landed on your tongue. “Be a good little whore and swallow like you did last time.” You did, mouth shutting and reopening a moment later. 

“Atta girl…” the praise nearly had you melting. Mitsuri watched from the mattress, too worn out to even lift her head, never mind moving to help you. Obanai, as ruthless as ever, shoved his cock down your throat in a similar fashion to last time. You choked, embarrassingly loud as tears burned your eyes again. He hit the back of your throat, hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to drag you along his length. The taste of bitter precum mixed with Mitsuri’s release, the force of his tugging making you see stars. Your hands scrambled to find his legs, nails scratching the delicate skin  of his thighs as you tried to steady your breathing. 

Your nose brushed his pubic bone, body tensing as he held you in place. You looked upwards through wet lashes, watching a smirk creep up his face. The scars on his cheeks only lengthened it, he reminded you of a snake. You had the urge to call him beautiful again, though it would be quite difficult to do so at the moment. You forced your jaw to relax, seeing that he had no intentions of pulling out just yet. “You’re such an addictive pain in the ass… I mean really.” He pulled your hair a little tighter, watching as tears slipped down your cheeks. Sick satisfaction bubbled in his gut as your eyes turned glossy.

 He let you go a moment later, allowing you a second to breathe properly before shoving himself back down. “I’ve never met someone so infuriating…ha…yet so fucking intoxicating. To the point I actually miss your presence.” You made a noise of surprise, watching his head fall back as your throat vibrated. “T-that shocks you hmm? I figured it would…shit…ya know I’m really trying, Mitsuri.” His eyes shot over to her, her eyes lidded with sleep as she watched. “She was so persistent about me being nicer to you… easier…” his hips began thrusting back and forth, building in tempo slowly. 

“I think you can take it though, I think you enjoy being used as a fuck toy.” He slammed his hips down, earning another harsh gag from you as drool dripped down your chin. Your tongue lathered the underside of his cock, throat constricting as you swallowed the best you could around him. It didn’t help the saliva running down your chin and neck, dribbling onto your chest as Obanai had his way with you. “Cmon now…” his hand hit your cheek a couple times, pulling your attention back to him. “You enjoy it, don’t you?” this time you hummed something similar to a yes, throat vibrating around him once again. He was going to cum, he knew he was, but he was torn.

Come down your throat or see how pathetic you look with your face covered in it. He was already familiar with the satisfaction that came with the ladder, seeing your face covered was all too appealing. Not willing to fuck up again, the hand in your hair tightened to keep you in place as he retreated from your mouth all together. “Be a good little bitch and keep your mouth open…tongue out.” You watched with blurry vision as he pumped himself with his free hand. Your saliva clung to him, allowing his fist to glide rapidly. “You got lucky.. Lucky that Mitsuri distracted me. This time…fuck… this time it’s my way.”

It took a few more pumps for Obanai to spill himself all over your face. Sticky white painted your mouth, chin, chest and even your cheeks. Eyes squeezing shut in fear of getting it where you’d prefer you didn’t. The sight itself was nothing short of filthy, paired with the shaking whines of the man fisting your hair, it was enough to make Mitsuri squirm, head turning to look away. Obanai let go once his orgasm had died down, nothing but labored breathing filled the room as you tried to collect your wits. “Are you alright?” Obanai’s voice was quiet, face flushed and sweaty as he dropped down to your level. You swallowed, “Y..yeah…a wet cloth would be nice though…”

“Of course… get on the bed and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back.” Mitsuri was pushing herself up, scooting to lay her head on one of the pillows. “Ahh y/n-chan, come lay beside me. You’re not running away from us again.” You pushed yourself up as Obanai disappeared from the room, making your way over to the bed and nearly collapsing onto the sheets. The only thing stopping you was the fear of making a mess… granted the sheets already needed to be changed due to Mitsuri. “Run away? I slept here last time too.” You chuckled softly as she rolled over. “Yes, but you still ran away the morning after. You’re not allowed to do that this time!”

“That so? How come.” you teased softly, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. “We have a lot to discuss, but I’m far too tired… you are too.” You opened your mouth but no words came out, “Mitsuri, you’re doing it again. You make it seem like we’re going to execute her or something. Don’t fill her head with useless worries or she’ll never fall asleep.” Obanai entered the room, wet cloth and new sheets in hand. He had also taken the time to throw on a kimono, as if trying to be modest after what you had just done. You let him clean your face, hands gentle as he wiped away his mess. It was probably the gentlest he’d ever touched you.

“Sorry…I guess that’s true.” Mitsuri slurred, already falling asleep. “G’night Mitsuri.” you laughed softly, eyes glancing over Obanai’s face. “We’ll change the bedding in the morning. You can bathe then as well, we have clothing you’d like if you’d allow us to wash the clothing you came in.” He was motioning you backwards, pulling a pillow to place under your head. “Oh… thank you…I don’t mean to be a nuisance.” he scoffed, shouldering off the clothing he had put on once again. “Stop saying things like that. We want you here, y/n.” You snorted, “You’ve called me a pain multiple times.” He climbed in beside you, the gentle snores signaling that Mitsuri had fallen asleep already.

“That’s because you are. But that’s not a bad thing… I assume you see me as a pain as well.” He sighed, settling comfortably on his back. “Oh absolutely… you’re just a bit insufferable… though I can’t say you don’t fuck me good.” You hummed, ignoring the burn in your cheeks as you shifted onto your side, back facing him. “Glad we’re on the same page… now get some sleep. Mitsuri and I have some things to talk about in the morning with you… so don’t try and run off like last time.” You huffed softly, muttering out a soft “fine” as sleep tugged at you. You could sleep easier when they were with you, warmth on each side, lulling you to sleep.

The third and final part of this little series will be I Always Do It Better

I plan on working on it and posting it hopefully some time this summer… definitely don’t intend on making y’all wait over a year again lmfao. I hope you enjoyed this part!! - May

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[scekrex]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well!!!

I just read your Adam x Lucifer’s son fic and I loved it a lot more than I thought I would going in (that sounded really backhanded but I definitely don’t mean it that way 😭)

I was thinking of a part 2 that takes place literally just a few minutes after the 1st, Lucifer basically gave Adam a few… let’s say corrective love taps. And now the reader is patching up his now bruised face. Reader try’s to make Adam feel better by complimenting him and flirting with him. (I know damn well Adam is such a hoe for genuine affection like-)

Cut to Lucifer sitting across the room eyeing you both, now realizing that his son is in love with THE FIRST MAN and Adam is ALSO in love with his son. To put it simply, he is kinda freaking out. He now refuses to leave them alone together for the rest of the day, and also the unseeable future! He starts listing the reasons why the Reader should very much not being dating Adam. (Would be funny if he also mentioned the age gap as if he didn’t date a newly born woman as a who knows how old Angel LMAO) And Adam is like “Bitch, I’m am literally right the fuck here.”

Lucifer is just really activating his overprotective dad mode. That is… until Charlie really needs his help with something for the hotel. He eventually (albeit reluctantly) agrees to leave to help because he thinks “I’ll be quick, it’s just what? 5 minutes? And I’ll be in the room just a few doors down!”

He leaves and Adam, who for some motherfucking reason, can’t stop thinking about all the things Lucifer said to you about him and starts thinking ‘Maybe he’s right’ and starts just getting in his head about it

Reader finishes up patching his face and can tell he’s thinking about what Luci said. He reassures him that he loves no one else but Adam and that what his dad thinks is irrelevant. Reader gives Adam a kiss before asking. “Anyways, you ready to go?”

“The fuck you mean? Go where?

“I mean… how else are we going to finish what we started?”

And the was one of the first times the reader managed to make Adam flustered. Needless to say, Adam and the reader weren’t there when Lucifer returned. Much to Lucifer’s anger.

Nah man ur good, I wasn't the biggest fan at first too but y'know, it's kinda cute. Also u didn't specify anything about Reader and Adam having sex so I kept this SFW, my inbox is temporarily closed but if ya want a sequel that's basically just smut, lemme know once my inbox is open again!

Part 1

My lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you

“Was that really necessary, dad?” you grumbled as you pressed a ball of cotton against Adam’s lip - Adam’s bleeding lip. Lucifer hadn't been too fond of the view he had been greeted with when entering the room. The brunette’s bottom lip was split open, his nose was bleeding and his eye was slowly turning black again. Adam had just recovered from the stabbing injuries Niffty had caused and now he was covered in bleeding wounds once again. A thing that surely did surprise you and that you wanted to look deeper into once the situation was less tense, was the fact that Adam’s blood was still golden. His blood had remained pure and angelic and while you partly understood why, it did make you curious.

Adam hissed in pain as your fingers gently traced along his nose, checking if it was just bleeding or if it was broken - Adam was lucky because your father had actually managed to break the former angel’s nose.

Lucifer was sitting on an armchair across the room, watching the gentle touches his son offered Adam, he didn’t like that they got along and he hated that they seemed so in love, so all over each other. Lucifer knew Adam, well that wasn’t entirely true. Lucifer had known Adam once, back in Eden when everything had been so new and exciting for pretty much everybody. Back then Adam had been a kind and loving soul, but that soul was no longer comparable to the man that was sitting on his son’s bed, bleeding divine blood onto the covers while his son basically sat in Adam’s lap and took care of the injuries.

“Yes, it was necessary, someone needed to teach him a lesson,” Lucifer answered your question, sounding quite bitter. And partly you were able to understand your father, he had history with Adam - history that did not end well at all but the man whose lap you were sitting on seemed almost innocent. You were very aware that Adam was the last person to describe as innocent and sweet though.

“My poor angel,” you hummed as you leaned in a little closer, carefully stopping the bleeding of Adam’s nose before inspecting the broken bone a little closer - it was nothing you couldn’t fix, that was for sure. It would heal just fine, it just needed time. With gentle hands you cupped Adam’s face and kissed his stubbled chin, causing the brunette to shiver lightly. Adam was not used to gentle touches, yes, he had been spending quite some time with you ever since his people had left him behind, but that didn’t mean he got used to affectionate touches like those you offered him - that didn’t mean he disliked them, quite the opposite was the case, he lived for your gentle touches and soft words. You somehow always found something to praise the brunette for.

Adam hummed in agreement, nodding his head lightly to underline the sound. “Don’t you worry, I’ll fix you up in no time,” you added, satisfied that there was no more blood dripping from Adam’s nose.

Lucifer growled from where he was sitting, not pleased with how close you were to Adam’s face - well, actually he wasn’t pleased that you were close to Adam at all. You shot your father a glare over the brunette’s shoulder. “You’re responsible for his injuries so shut up,” you hissed at the blonde king.

The king of Hell simply rolled his eyes at your words, “Yeah, well you shouldn’t be dating Adam - date whoever you want, I don’t care if they’re female, non-binary or male, just don’t date him.” Lucifer pointed towards Adam who seemed not very happy about how lowly Lucifer spoke about him. Sure, they had their issues with each other, but why was it such a big deal to the blonde that the first man and the prince of Hell had a thing for each other?

“Y’know, first of all he’s a maniac, he literally used to kill our people,” Lucifer started to list reasons why you should stay away from the brunette, you could only raise an eyebrow at your father, “Oh our people? The people you ignored for only God knows how long? Those people you’re supposed to rule but instead of doing so you simply let them rot?” You felt how the first man’s hands came to rest on your hips, gently patting them signaling you that he liked your answer. Lucifer huffed.

“Okay what about the fact that he’s manipulative and controlling?” The blonde king tried again, nodding his head towards Adam. “Dad,” you said, looking at Lucifer, you seemed quite unimpressed by his words, “Mom’s book is trash, Adam was told to keep Lilith on a leash, he was supposed to look out for her and stop her from being absolutely self destructive and reckless.”

The blonde king tried it yet again, his problem was not that Adam was a man, his problem was that Adam was Adam, “Okay but what about the age gap? He’s like so much older than you are, sweety,” you cringed at the nickname your father gave you and playfully slapped Adam’s chest as you felt a chuckle vibrating through his body. “Says the guy who fucked the first woman a couple days after her fucking creation,” Adam huffed, turning his head around to face Lucifer.

The short king was about to argue yet again, but Charlie interrupted him by opening the door without knocking, something that was very unlike her since she valued privacy. Your sister’s eyes watched you and Adam for a moment, she shot you a quick, reassuring smile before heading towards your father, who was still sitting in that stupid armchair, observing you and Adam like the both of you were little children.

“I’m sorry for bursting in without knocking,” Charlie apoligzed, sounding quite stressed about whatever was going on elsewhere in the hotel, it wasn’t that you cared all that much. Not when you were seated in Adam’s lap and Charlie was a great distraction for Lucifer’s sharp eyes. “Don’t sweat it, dollface,” Adam simply responded, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke, “You’re not the fucking first, seems to be a fucking family issue you have there.” Your sister spun around in confusion, frowning at the first man who simply rested his chin on your head and grinned at her. “Uh… yeah… no, what I came here for is actually,” the blonde girl turned back towards the king of Hell, “Dad, I really need your help.”

Lucifer shook his head, nodding towards you and Adam, “I can't leave them alone sweety.” Charlie glanced over at how you were seated in Adam's lap, patching up the wounds your father had caused. The blonde girl sighed, then returned her attention to Lucifer who was still watching you and the brunette very closely. “It's urgent, Valentino-” at the name of the pimp Lucifer perked up, he knew Valentino meant no good and the fact that Charlie was mentioning him in context with the fact that she needed his help with something only made it worse in his eyes. “I think I can spare a few minutes to deal with Valentino,” Lucifer grumbled, not exactly happy leaving you with Adam, yet he knew his daughter wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.

He got up from the armchair, twirled his cane and tapped it on the floor once it was right side up again. “Let's make this quick.”

You watched as your father and your sister left the room to deal with said Valentino problem. As soon as the door fell shut you stopped hiding the grin and looked up at Adam, who seemed to be thinking about something - most likely all the harsh words your father had said. A small sigh left you as you cupped Adam's face once again, looking deeply into struggling golden eyes. “Don't take his words to heart he's… a little overprotective when it comes to his youngest son,” you hummed at Adam, the grin on your lips turned into a soft smile as you caressed Adam's cheek with your thumb. “Besides, we have to get going before he comes back.”

The brunette frowned at your words, his concern about all the things Lucifer had said was replaced by confusion, “Get going? Where the fuck do you wanna go?” You glanced to the door, then back at Adam. The first man followed your eyes and the confusion cleared up rather quickly. “Somewhere where we can continue what we started without dad interrupting us.”

-

When Lucifer returned to your room only five minutes later the room was empty. Nothing had changed except for the fact that Adam was no longer sitting on your bed with you in his lap. Lucifer cursed under his breath and just as he was about to go seek for you and the first man, he heard moans coming from one of the other rooms, those soft sounds of pleasure caused the devil to stop in his tracks immediately.

The moans echoing through the hotel came from Adam.

[luimagines]

Sequel to ‘You Leave Before He Can Confess’ Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

This will coincide with the first half which you can read right here!

Part 3 will include the same boys, which are Wild, Legend and Hyrule.

Content under the cut!

Wild

With no one else to turn to, Wild had told Zelda everything.

From the beginning to the end he didn’t leave anything out. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had a feeling that he shouldn’t that told Zelda as much as he did. A part of it might have been cruel for her to know, but he had no more filter. Once the floodgates were open, he had a hard time reeling everything back in.

It was borderline impossible. 

“Did you ever find them?” She asks quietly in the end. Zelda simply tries to keep him talking. She’s been crying silently for the past twenty minutes but Wild doesn’t want to think about the implications of her tears.

“No.” He says, wiping his own face. “I don’t know where they went. They never appeared again.”

Zelda reaches for his hand, squeezing it gently. “If they were as mighty as you said they were, then I’m positive that they’re alive.”

“That’s-!″ Not good enough, dies on his tongue. It should be good enough. There’s nothing else in his power to ask for anything other than that.

Instead he deflates, crumbling in the spot where he sits. “That’s not the problem. We never found out where they ended up. We didn’t even come close to finding them again. They were just... gone... How do we know if they made it home? How do we know if they weren’t hurt on the other side? How can I know if  I did everything I could?”

Zelda nods, still crying. “...I don’t know, Link. We might just have to accept that there are things we’ll never know. Did we try our best to stop the Calamity? Hadn’t we lost so many people already? Is this that much different?”

“Zelda, that’s even worse!” Wild gulps, trying to not raise his voice. He hasn’t spoken this much in a very long time. His throat is beginning to feel sore. He needs water.

“Link, you have always done your best for everyone.” She tells him. “It’s not anyone’s fault that this happened. It’s simply... unfortunate. The only thing you can do is hope. And hope with all you’re willing to allow yourself to hope.”

Wild hums, wiping his face again. Should he mention how much he had fallen for you? Would that get Zelda to see how much he’s actually hurting? Would she understand how he feels? You might as well have died and he was powerless to stop it. Forced to be just out of arms reach as you rushed into battle-

Wait a minute. That sounds familiar.

He looks up at Zelda finally taking in her tears and her brave smile. He feels guilty. He feels horrible. The weight of his words finally hitting him. She has always been waiting for him, he realizes.

She’s just as alone as he is. How did he not see it before?

“I’m sorry.” Wild blurts. “I’ve spent this whole time just... crying...and you haven’t even... I’m sorry.”

Somehow, Zelda finds in herself to smile wider. “I know. I’m simply sorry for not having more power to help you.”

“I don’t need your power to help me.” He mutters. And he doesn’t. He just wants you back. He just wants to talk to you again. Why is that too much to ask?

Zelda takes his answer in stride, swinging his hand lightly. “Perhaps... but that doesn’t change anything in my perspective.”

Wild sniffles. His whole body hurts. When was the last he expressed this much emotion. “I know... and thank you.”

Legend

Admittedly, he was quite mean to Ravio when he came back home.

He didn’t want to admit to himself that he had messed up. That he was dumb. that there was no return. That he had loved and lost for a second time.

“Mr. Hero.” Ravio puts a plate in front of him. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” He mutters, turning away from the plate. He has to give it to the purple rabbit. He’s can be just as stubborn as he is. When he came back, it was a part of their deal that Ravio would go home, but he stayed and refuses to leave.

Granted, Legend hasn’t exactly had the heart to kick him out fully, but he had hoped to some degree that Ravio would honor their agreement.

He should have known better.

Ravio put his hands on his hips, staring down the other young man until he pushes the food in front of his face again. “Eat. Don’t make me get Hilda.”

Legend tenses up slightly. “Why would you get Hilda?”

“Because I know you don’t want Zelda to see the state you’re in.” Ravio glares. “That’s why, despite the fact that she misses you and wants to see if you’re ok, you’ve been avoiding her- claiming you have the plague or something.”

Legend winces. Ravio isn’t entirely wrong. He had been writing to Zelda about his return and she had been wanting him to come to the castle. but he told her that he was injured and was silently recovering at home. When he got better, he would see her.

But for Hilda to get involved... That’s a whole other can of worms that Legend doesn’t feel inclined to open. Slowly, he reaches for the plate and the fork and begins to eat the food on the plate.

Ravio relaxes and sit on the table with his back to the window. He sighs and shakes his head, staring away from the blond as he eats. “Goodness me... you’re one stubborn mule. What even happened this time around? I’ve never seen you so distraught?”

“I lost someone.” He mutters between bites. He knows that he can tell Ravio some bits and pieces. He’s not afraid of the judgement he might receive. “I didn’t have the chance to get them back.”

Ravio hisses and looks away. “That would do it...Do you want to talk about it?”

Legend shakes his head, slowly eating more food from the plate. He can’t even taste it. He’s sure that it’s edible though. Nothing like the Champion’s cooking, or his own, but Ravio isn’t a disaster in the kitchen. Probably.

Ravio hums, kicking his feet until Legend eats his fill. He managed to eat more than he thought he would. He almost cleaned the entire plate.

“Good.” Ravio hops off of the table and goes to take the plate away. “now go take a shower, you smell to high heavens.”

Legend cracks a weak smile, the first one in weeks. “And you tell me this now?”

“It was secondary.” Ravio flicks his forehead. “Give me a second and I’ll get the water running.”

Legend sighs. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“Do you want to Hilda come over and take over the place?”

“....I’m going.”

Hyrule

The rest of that moment passes by in a blur. One by one the others all left for their homes, leaving the adventure and each other behind. Time stays with him until the end. Legend had just finished his goodbyes, telling the older man that after everything he understands now why the world sent him n so many adventures.

He has to live up to the legacy of what should have been. Hyrule knows that he comes after Legend, so what does that means for him?

Time waits until Hyrule passes through the portal himself. He can see the concern on the Old Man’s face but he doesn’t care enough to try and ease it. Hyrule sends a lazy salute, not bothering to clean his face. “Take care, Link.”

“I could say the same to you.” He nods, crossing his arms. He still looks uneasy, following the younger hero from a distance.

Hyrule won’t think about it. He turns and walks through the poral, ending up somewhere he knows but also wishes he was somewhere else. He’s in the middle of the beach front. It’ll take days to make it back to his cave.

With nothing else to do and little motivation to do anything else, he starts his journey home.

He feels tired. He feels exhausted.

Is this how it all ends? It must be. Nothing around him seems any different than how he left it.

An octoroc fires behind him and it hits his back straight on.

The pain is welcomed. Hyrule falls flat on his face into the sand, not bothering to get up just yet. He can hear it fire another one right at him and it explodes into the sand on his left, nearly burying him in the process.

Hyrule can hear someone yelling at him in the back of his head, something that tells him to get up, to keep moving, to get out of there before irreparable happens.

But he doesn’t want to.

Another shot is fired, hitting him dead on.

That one hurts more than the first and it spurs the instinctual need to run away. He curls up, narrowly avoiding the forth hit before he finds it in himself to sit up and run away from the monster.

Somewhere behind him, he can hear that the commotion of the first octoroc has caught the attention of other monsters. Their grunts and chuffs are slowly closing in on him.

Blatantly, he remembers where he is and who he is.

He is Link once more, no longer Hyrule. He has the full triforce. He has a cursed on his blood. And he is back home.

He is hunted once more.

He cannot afford to bleed.

His earlier injuries' are suddenly a higher cause of concern than they once were. He cannot afford to let Ganon come back after everything.

Even if you are no longer by his side, he admits to himself that it was never meant to be. But for you to have peace, even if it’s years after he’s gone, he needs to live. He needs to do his part.

So before the monsters can find him and fulfill their never ending goal of sacrifice, Link runs.

[f1writingbyme]

The Box In The Closet

Lestappen | 6 009 words | Fluff | Rated T | Sequel by @lestappenforever and @f1writingbyme

As promised, here it is!

You asked, we deliver: the Christmas gift Max never got to give Charles in The Seasons of Heartbreak. We wanted to answer this question in the only way we know how: by writing these two being idiots in love with just a touch of humor.

You can read the full fic on AO3 here.

Summary:

The box is still mocking him.

“Hey,” he greets, because he’s not a neanderthal. Then: “What’s in the box?”

“Hey,” Max greets back. Then, simply because he can and will avoid the subject as long as possible: “How was lunch?”

“Fine. Joris is mad at me, though,” Charles responds, refusing to elaborate because that’s not what needs to be the focus right now. He asks again. “What’s in the box?”

“Why is Joris mad at you?” Max asks, bluntly ignoring Charles’ question once again.

Charles wants to shake him, just a little. “Because I was distracted all through lunch. What’s. In. The. Box?”

“Why were you distra—,”

“Max Emilian Verstappen, what’s in the fucking box?!”

---

OR: The contents of the fucking box Max kept stashed in his closet from The Seasons of Heartbreak are finally revealed.

[summertimemusician]

Linktober (Shadow) 2023, Day 11

Monsters (Dead Hand)

Summer Stop Giving Reader/PoV Character and the Chain a Hard Time and Trauma Challenge (impossible) /j. But really I'll probably write something lighter for Linktober or Linktober Shadow later to compensate for this one lol. Probably a sequel to this one that has Reader actually having a nice time with the Links for once.

Technically since unfortunately studying for future exam season in like a couple of days has been kicking me in the ribs and thus my time was highly cut and unfortunately I don't have an Ocarina to give me more, this is actually a mix of prompts! The ones in the title, Keese, Wolfos, Wizzrobe, Lizalfos, Redead, and Boss, although they are not the focus here, mostly just mentioned but technically checking out the boxes, maybe next time I'll go more in deep on that (Like the original idea that basically was Reader taming a pet Wolfos as a guard hound that I will not elaborate on at least not this year), instead y'all get this with the boss that gave a lot of people childhood trauma and was never seeing again since because we really don't talk about just why Dead Hands are terrifying much, just that they are, really missed opportunity to use them more in an LU context lol.

As always any relationship between Reader and any of the Chain can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, and Reader is Gender Neutral on Purpose. And First is here because again, this would have been longer if exam season wasn't kicking me in the ribs and I have some really evil ideas involving First, Reader and Time bonding over having trauma of enclosed spaces, but thankfully y'all don't get that today lol, or not, it would be a really fluffy scene so up to y'all if it's a win or a loss.

TW:

Don't think there's anything too heavy-ish? But I'm a horror fan so I'm not someone who can accurately judge that. I'd say graphic descriptions of violence and gore, and being restrained/pinned in place and the entire deal that is the Dead Hand's existing, so please don't read if you're squeamish or uncomfortable. Health is important and specially mental health and I always leave these warnings on Linktober Shadow related prompts or heavier stories, so just a heads up so no one is caught by surprise.

Anyway, enjoy reading!

It was an almost unanimous agreement that no hero liked to pass through a cemetery in Hyrule.

From the restless Gibdo, to the mischievous yet usually cruel Poes and the lost Ghini, to the ever wandering Stalfos and the ghastly agonized Redead and ever determined ghoulish Garo, nothing good ever came from entering in areas where dead things roam. You can't be sure if it's because of the magic in Hyrule, the living force of light and shadow and the divinity coursing through the land, or simply the will of the undead or the consequences of Demise attempting to claim the Triforce, graveyards and desolated fields meant silence, they should be where those who are gone should finally acquire their final catharsis, not to roam endlessly without release, solemn as these places are they are still places for a peaceful end and to be denied such due to the whims of the Shadow... You can think of very few awful fates that can compare.

('Terrible fates, you could say.' The grimly bemused part of your mind whispers, as you walk alongside Time further down into the crypt that you and the Chain had followed the shadow into, silver, prisitne armor briefly blends with old, rusted, bloody gold and you think you hear the rattling of bones in the distance, the draw of a rusted, but still serviceable sword. You shut it away with a snarl as you cut down the Stalfos attempting to ambush Wild from the rear, and it goes down and back into the darkness with a screech alongside the chilling knowleged and the sick cracking of broken bones, not on your watch, never on your watch, you refuse.)

"Of all places why did it have to be a bloody crypt?" Grimaced Warriors, casting a weary glance towards the skulls decorating the walls, their empty sockets empty but silently cutting, as if sneering at the fact you lot had dared disturb the dead, as if it wasn't the Shadow's mere presence making what would otherwise be a place for rest into a possible death trap.

Legend smirked, though you could tell he wasn't anymore pleased from the way he marched through the cold, cracked stone floor, steps flighty and eyes darting around corners, "What, a bit too much for you, soldier boy?"

"No," came the prim answer, although the twitch of the hand near his scabbard as you stepped into an open chamber gave him away, as well as Wind being kept at his side rather than near the wall, "Just don't generally like fighting the undead in closed spaces. It's a recipe for disaster."

"On that I believe we all can agree on." Came Time's voice, cutting through the banter, tense as a drawn bowstring, you knew being back in a crypt wasn't easy for him, with the way his jaw tensed, you both had the same awful memories of a similarly buried, abandoned place where dead things roamed without cease, frantic, hungry for the warmth of the living, "Keep your guard up, and stay close together."

Almost as if on cue came the monsters from the open corridors, you didn't hesitate in drawing your blade to cut through the enemy, keese were easily dispatched by Four and Legend's swords, you spun to slit the throat of a growling Wolfos from Twilight's era going for Sky's back just as he mercilessly chased down the Black Lizalfos, the beast clearly avoiding the glow from the Sword of Evil's Bane. Time's back to yours as you cleared the path for him and blocked the Shadow's exit through the left corridor, it had already proven that it would not matter if you did or not, but you refused to not let it work for survival.

The jolt of magic being used crawling up your spine was your first warning. Like the build up of lightning in a storm, the taste of rust and a feeling like tar  slithers up your throat.

The second was Wild's warning shout as the chamber shook with the grating, chilling, blood curdling howl of the Redeads, Time lunging away from your side to slash the beasts away from Wind and Warriors with all of the fury of a wolf defending it's pack, before you had to throw yourself back, slamming your back against the arch on the right as it caved in, lest you be crushed alongside the Wolfos coming for your neck the second the older hero moved.

You were separated.

You were alone.

A really, really bad spot to be when in Hyrule's catacombs.

"Are you alright?!", Came muffled from the other side of the stones, the hint of an actual wolf's growl and the distinctive Ordonian cadence, Twilight.

"I'm fine! Keep fighting, I'll find my way to you guys!", You yell back, heart racing, trying not to think about what you could find on your way back, you didn't have any bombs on you, it wasn't feasible to use them in a place as old as this, not without risk bringing down the ceiling on you and the Chain. But most catacombs have interconnected hallways, if you moved quickly, you might just avoid finding anything that you won't be able to handle on your own.

You think Twilight replies, but it's muffled by another Redead's yowl, you wince, your muscles lock up and you feel something warm drip from your ears, but thankfully you are not rendered immobile due to the involuntary wall, you swallow your trepidation and get moving.

The further you get away from the fallen stones, the more silent the catacombs extending from the crypt you were dropped in became, shadows twist oddly by the torches upon the wall with only your breathing and the cold, unfeeling remains of the dead to keep you company, the lowly burning flames bringing you no warmth. The corridors blended together in the darkness cast by the faint light, the shades contorting themselves in the crevices of your paranoia the longer you went on with only your own hurried footsteps to make any true sound.

Not one monster had found it's way to you thus far, though, and according to the copy of the map Legend had made the second you had acquired the original from a very unfortunate Wizzrobe from Wild's era. You just needed to pass one more open chamber to find the corridor leading to your boys, You couldn't keep them waiting, who knew how long it would take for the fight to finish if Redead's were involved? And staying still when the Shadow could turn itself intangible was practically begging it to switch it's attention, it usually didn't pay you as much mind as it did the heroes, Time specially (it seemed to hold a grudge against him more than any of your boys, you noted bitterly), but it would occasionally target you if it meant getting a rise from any of the Link's or if it felt you were too  secure in your safety, it was better if you found your way back first to the hunt before you became hunted.

You grit your teeth, by Hylia's dripping gash, you were so. darn. tired. of. being. hunted.

Of watching your friends being led into a wild hunt with no end in sight, dragged by the noose by a remnant that refused to stay dead, you never thought you could burn with so much anger, with the desire to see if fire would scare it sober into ceasing in it's infection of all of Hyrule's Eras. But unfortunately you knew it didn't work like that, so you had to survive, you would survive, because someone had to protect the heroes when the heroes protected everyone else and if no one was going to step up to the job, you'd just have to do it yourself.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, lest you end up drowning in them, you breath in relief as soon as you come upon the metal door with the symbol of the royal family, faded and rusted with age, there. You just needed to pass through this chamber and the corridor next to it, and you'd be back with Link, all of them, and hopefully out of here. You push it open, grip tightening on your long dagger, almost a sword, good enough to cut and hide. The thick and pungent combination of old, congealed blood, sick and decaying flesh, something like rotten eggs dipped in alcohol and withered flowers hits your nose, making you nauseous but you press on, the chamber is circular and dimly lit, with a long cracked, soft stone from a leak in the walls. You studiously do not look at the far corner of the dungeon or the pillory's and shackles scattered around near the cells,  there's a second door to the other side, as soon as you pass through it you'll be in another corridor.

... It's silent, too quiet. Unease slithers and twists around you like vines, but you can't delay, you won't, so you keep walking-

Until you can't.

Something has grabbed a hold of your leg. You look down, and your blood freezes, spotting a long, sickly, pale arm and a bright crimson, elongated nails, claw-like, digging into your ankle, having dug itself up from the fragile ground.

You don't hesitate, slashing down violently at the offending limb, frantic terror spreads through your blood, you knew what was here. It featured in your nightmares for a long, long time, you knew it still haunted Time's, the limb goes slack as it is severed, and you barely note the way it starts bleeding black and green at the stump, thankful for Four's expert craftsmanship and maintenance hints as you dive to the exit. You don't make it far, it's companion limbs  bursting in front of your path like a snake emerging from the ground, it makes a solid grab for your  arms, one of them grabs you by the scalp, firmly digging as you dodge and weave between, a stabbing pain upon your skull from the indomitable grip of something fueled by fury, twisted magic and rigor mortis and makes you cry out, your slight moment of hesitation allowing two more hands to latch onto your legs and arms, nails slicing through your flesh like easily and digging, tearing like a rabid hunting dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, leaving deep gashes upon your arms and ankles, it's not unlike being pinned and held to a torture rack, in hindsight, ironic given just where in the crypt you ended up.

Your hear the ground below shifting below you, a groan carrying through the air, awfully monstrous, coldly human. You struggle harder like a desperate butterfly upon a dissection board, from your peripheral, you see the form of the thing unhurriedly dragging itself over, it uses the sharp and bloody ends of where bone was broken to slice it's hands off to shuffle out of the grave, using it's stubs as support. Long long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, the scent of rot intensifies and you feel like gagging as it settles it's empty, frigid, hungry eye sockets on your bound form; it's broken jaw contorting itself in a mockery of a human smile over rotten gums and exposed teeth, stretching unnaturally and bringing emphasis to it's rotting, bloodied sunken features. From behind it's bloated, putrid shape, barely obscured by the bloodied white cloth and the grotesque vision of the undead you swear the crimson eyes of the shadow, watching you coldly, the hint of a knife sharp, serpentine smile as the sound of wet meat slamming across the ground rings in the chamber.

Fury mixes with your panic as you snarl, trying to twist the dagger in your grip as best as you can to drive it into the arms, pain and blood drips from the open wound but you don't care; you need to get away from the Dead Hand. A monster like that feels no pain when struck for it is not human, not any longer, and you couldn't hope to face an infected one alone, it shuffles over the floor, unhurriedly shuffling like a predator that knows it's prey can't run away, it moans and groans with hunger as it approaches and you have no intention of giving it a meal, you grit your teeth as the nails sink deeply into your shoulders and arms, using your blade to saw through rotting flesh and hopefully break bone with every single inch of strenght you have, the blade is slick in your hand with your own blood and the poison-tar of the Shadow's infection burning through you but you do not mind, can't. You need to get away-

The undead's teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, blunt, human teeth that shouldn't have half the strenght it does to rip through flesh, blood and crack bone, and you caterwaul with pain, skin crawling and numbing and set aflame with curses sent from the dark reflection of the hero, darkening, veins blackening, your eardrums vibrate with the force of your own agony and you are sure you could rival a Redead on pitch alone of your tortured howl. Struggling even more ferociously, attempting to disloged it, kick it off, your blade sucessfully slashes through the arm from your reverse grip, pushing away from it with the savegery off a cornered predator you sink your long dagger into the undead's eye sockets, tearing through it's cheek with animal ferocity, it keens high and chilling, you're losing blood quickly and it (for it's not a human, not anymore, you can't feel sympathy for it, won't. You can't hesitate.) knows, for it tries to chomp down onto your vulnerable neck, your arm being the only thing keeping it from biting it out as you growl with pain, although you can't be sure it just won't bite through, it's teeth are bared, the pitch of it's blank eyes locked onto yours in stalemate, you have the advantage of not being weakened by hunger and decay, not sluggish like it but that will not help for long, the clammy being determined to bleed you dry and feast on your corpse and you are drowning drowning drowningDROWNINGWITHWRETCHEDTORMENT MAKE.THE.PAIN.STOP-

A scream of your name, sword calloused hands yank you away from claws and fangs (because nothing with blunt teeth and nails should be able to wound someone so throughly), you waver on your feet, swaying, supported by a warm, strong body and pulled away. A sword slashes the foul being away from you and you go lax, numb with pain.

First, First was supporting you. Keeping you steady, stopping you from falling, snarling at the corpse with a lion's fury, holding you protectively. Time tears by him like a man possessed, frenzied with the look of a man looking at his worst nightmare and growling in denial. The Links, wounded but alive, the Chain had met you halfway.

The last thing you remember before losing conciousness as adrenaline leaves your body and everything goes dark, is wishing that they'll burn it to be sure it's gone for good. It's the kindest thing that can be done for a such a wretched existence.

You'd be okay.

[phoebe-delia]

You Could Be the One That I Love

@basicallyahedgehog Rowan, did you think I was done?? With the birthday gifts?? Even though your birthday is over? NONSENSE!!!! YOUR PRESENCE IS A CONSTANT GIFT AND THEREFORE I SHALL CONTINUE TO CELEBRATE YOUR BIRTH AS LOUDLY AND AS OFTEN AS I CAN. I REFUSE TO ALLOW THE CELEBRATIONS TO BE CONTAINED TO A MEASLY 24 HOURS. THERE SHOULD BE FESTIVALS IN YOUR HONOR!!! LAVISH ONES WITH PERFORMANCES AND FOOD AND ART AND DANCING!!! AND ALSO PLUSH BENCHES FOR WHEN WE GET TIRED OF DANCING!!!

Anyway. Since I can't do that, and I can't show up at your doorstep with cupcakes, I shall have to settle for this.

Rowan do you remember how there was a song you prompted me, and then you forgot about it, and then I've teased you about it on and off for like a year and a half saying I was going to write it for you when you least expected it? WELL HERE WE ARE!!! SURPRISE!!! (I truly don't know how long it's been, but this reminder has been in my drafts since like April of 2022. So. *shrugs*

Anyway. Here's a drabble based on "Message In A Bottle" by Taylor Swift. This can be considered a kinda unofficial sequel to my fic Holy Ground, but you don't really have to have read it to get the story.

There's a Harry on Draco's doorstep at 7 a.m.

Draco sputters. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Harry has the temerity to look confused—as if Draco should know what's going on. "What do you mean?"

Draco scrubs a hand over his face, trying to rub away the sleep in his eyes. "I mean—what on earth are you doing here?"

Harry reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. "I got your letter," he says, holding it up.

"What lett—oh," Draco's stomach drops. "I sent that, did I?"

The frown on Harry's face shifts to something close to amusement. "You sure did. Would you like to invite me in so you can know what you said?"

Draco cringes. "Oh, sure." He steps aside, letting Harry stride into his flat.

Harry immediately unfolds the parchment and clears his throat. "Dear Harry—"

"Would you like some tea, or—" Draco starts and then lets himself trail off as Harry continues.

"I might be quite sloshed as I write this, but I'm rather tired of this whole long-distance dating situation. Either you move here, or I move back to London. At this point, I don't much care, but if I don't see your scruffy face in the next 24 hours I will simply lose it. Sincerely, Draco." Harry folds the note back up and puts it in his pocket with a small smirk. "And I'd love some Earl Grey, thanks."

Harry mercifully sits in the living room while Draco makes their tea in the kitchen and wills his cheeks to lose their crimson shade. He calms himself enough by the time he brings two steaming mugs and places them on the coffee table.

"Thanks. So," Harry says while he reaches for his mug and settles back into the sofa. "London or New York?"

Draco sighs. "Harry, I understand if..." Then, comprehension dawns. "Wait, what?"

Harry chuckles. "Draco, I'm asking you to move in with me. You're right. Dating long-distance sucks. And I want to be with you. So after I read your letter I got the first portkey available and came right here to ask you—which city—London or New York?"

Draco carefully takes the mug from Harry's hands and sets it on the table. Then he launches himself across the sofa and into Harry's arms. The kiss is messy and uncoordinated, and it's the best kiss of Draco's life.

"Either. Or neither. We can go anywhere—I just want to be with you," Draco says, just above a whisper.

"Anywhere sounds great," Harry says with a grin. Then he leans in again, and neither of them says anything for a little while.

[dreambigdreamz]

fanfic idea for future reference 😌 it’s a swanlake x eothiriel

This is completely rough draft and I have a lot to work on, but I just found it again amidst my profile from long ago and just had to keep it for sake. And maybe I’d like to share it too — especially @meluiloth because you so kindly tag me everytime but I am always lazy to do anything related to writing 🥲 this one’s in honour for you and all your kindness in tagging me.

So like, the latest one is a Swan Lake plotline where it will start off as a suspense story. (No one else would be reading this and it will be a long time when I finally write and any who read will have forgotten about it so I'm going in all spoilers yes?) Éomer visiting Dol Amroth, the seat of his new friend Imrahil, and when he goes on his solitary late night walks on the beach, he keeps sighting a mysterious silver figure dancing, yknow. And when he tries to follow her once, he sees that she vanished as she ran into the Palace Garden. Now this Palace Garden is the beautifullest of places with flowers, shrubs, and fountains. But there is a big golden cage too, and in it is a snow-white swan that the whole royal family seems to love so much. THAT SWAN IS LOTHIRIEL CURSED BY A WITCH AND HER SOUL WILL BE A SWAN UNTIL SHE FEELS THE LOVE OF A MORTAL MAN AND RETURNS THAT LOVE. 

Like, whenever a young man asked for her hand, she always refused and one young man went to ask help from the witch to make Lothiriel love him back but instead the jealous witch turned her into a swan and she now only has human form in the absence of daylight and ahhhhh

Very simple and plain, Iknow but. For some reason I'm so excited for it to play out. 

I mean, everything about Eomer is simple and plain but so beloved in my eyes 😍

Yeah like a sort of Beren and Luthien meeting. Very simple, but when made with care and love, it makes my heart burst eek I feel like what will hinder Lothiriel's falling in love with him is her being so foreign to that. For sixteen years she was kept safe under the watch of her spinster aunt and doesn't lift an eye at a young man unless her elders permittedly tell her so. So I'm sorry but this girl's mentality was wrecked very beautifully and she simply doesn't know how to handle love

And for the next six years she was a swan, so very very unused to human company in general. Lol me materialising introverts in a poetic way. I think you'll be onboard with that idea. I don't know about you, but I feel so frustrated that I want to go out and mix in with people but it's so difficult to let go of the old restraints that had been for so long.

AND YES HAHAHA I am so making her foreign to love, and even a sequel where, after they have already admitted to each other's love, the curse still isn't broken and she begins to suspect it's because her love for Eomer is really imaginary. She 'loves' him only because she wants to break the curse. She has never known what is love to actually realise what she is feeling is really love. She doubts it. And truly, yes, she is a little selfish and she begins to be scared she'll never love anybody truly and this curse is to be forever. And they set out on a quest to find a way to break the curse and on the way she finds out what it truly is to love someone selflessly, without expecting anything in return, to want someone to be happy even if it means without you in their life. 🤓🤓 I just had to go and add that bit of angst in.

Like the first fic could be called 'So this is Love' and will end as they admit their love. So it's an open ended ending for everyone, those who wants to have the happily ever after can stop there. But the second fic sequel is gonna be like 'What is Love' and will start off with her still turning into a swan even after everything. It does have a happy ending though, I just have this scenario in my mind that they're coming back from the sea on a raft and she runs throgh the water up the beach to her gasping parents, IN DAYLIGHT. She's human in daylight so it means the curse is broken!! And they just share a hug :) I have this quote 'No I've never loved anyone before. If my parents died, I'd cry, but only because I wouldn't know what to do with my life next. Only because I would feel so lost without them to take care of me.' And in the end she finds the true meaning of loving :))) Because, whatever it is, love is love, selfless or selfish. If you love someone, for whatever reasons, it is still love, isnt it?? But for her she's been trapped in the cage of her mind for so long, not trusting anybody in case 'it doesn't work out'. Like, most of my heroines they are scared because they've been hurt before. For her, she is imagining all the hurt that could happen and limiting herself from the joy that was possibly waiting. Ahhh me 😁😁😁

I feel like this is going to be my healthiest pairing yet. They both admit to their flaws in so honest a way and come to terms with their imperfections. Like they actually got to talk!!! The quest symbolises their journey to compatibility, yknow, learning more about each other, and not only that but adjust to each other's problems. For example, Eomer himself realises he did not expect some selfish outbursts from this angelic creature and realises he had fallen in love with her shadow instead, her beauty and dancing in the twilight. He soon learns a lot more about her and learns why she is this way and also like why she is selfish and how to remedy that (she hoards up her favourite cakes all to herself and threatens him not to touch them).But that is bc she has been brought up privileged and not had any contact with anybody outside the world that she doesn't know how to fit in.

I'm so proud of it. 

Like first, you fall in love with someone for their outside. Then you have to endure and try to get to know their inside and then once you know what they are like, it is up to choice to try and get along or leave then. I think that's the three crucial steps to love :] And only after that, can you attest whether that love is 'true' as in compatible for the long run.

Yeah! I need a real life 🫠

Eomer’s flaw is chiefly that he takes things at face value because that’s how he was brought up. The Rohirrim doesn’t have much disguises and are straightforward and honest, you know. And he takes it that way. And when he first saw Lothíriel, that was the case: he took her to be a beautiful creature, a heavenly being. He has to learn the depths and layers of everything. 

And like, one incident is when he’s to leave the next day and asks if she’d wish him to return some day. She says, what would it change if she wish or not? That he’d try to come back at all cost if he knew she wished for it. She starts saying something like ‘But I could tell you that I wish for you to never come back here again. Would that prevent you from doing so?’ 

‘It would.’ 

Startled, she asks ‘Why?’ 

‘Because you said so.’ 

‘But I could be wishing something entirely different and may voice something else because of . . . propriety. And I am only saying this for example, mind you. Would you still take it at face value of what I said, when you probably know it to be otherwise?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘Then you are disregarding my— the person’s genuine wish?’ 

‘No. Though you may be wishing something different, I respect the decision you made to not speak of that wish. For whatever reason you thought it fit to keep your true feelings a secret, I will have to respect that decision of your mind that chose to not tell me your wish.’

Is this too cheesy—

I’m sorry I’m so proud of this atm tho

please let me know what you think 🥹🥹

[evilwickedme]

You seemed sad that nobody's asked for jayroy fic recs. I want jayroy fics! I am a simple creecher with simple needs.

God what a mood tho. ngl I'm obsessed with these two

I've already recommended some of my favs in previous posts! here and here for your enjoyment

anyway here we go

ace-spectrum!Jason

one of my favorite hc and with a lot of support from the text imho; I have more of these these are just my favs

Kiss Me, Kill Me, Take Me Home - 5+1 times somebody kissed Jason, ace!Jason

Jane Austen Never Said Anything About Speed Dating - this one's pretty long. an au where Jason never died and is dealing with trauma from an abusive ex. again, outright ace!Jason and his ex absolutely raped him, so dark subject matter but it's still so good. Jason's brothers try to get him back in the game after the breakup and he ends up running into Roy at speed dating; they decide to fake date to get both their families off their backs. some nice Lian stuff here too.

Between These Pages (Is a Wonderful Place To Be) - ace!Jason gets extremely injured and Roy reads to him, cute little oneshot

(can you feel) the fire burning through your veins - nothing wrong with a little bit of self promo, right? this is demi!gay!Jason figuring his identity out and navigating his changing relationship with Roy. it takes place in a slightly alternate timeline where he's been to therapy for a couple of years and he never slept with Talia so it's his first time with pretty much everything. there actually is smut but it's Jason's first time :D

there is sex in this

I’ve Got the Feeling You’re the Right Thing After All - more poisonivory??? yes please!!! Roy's has had feelings for Dick since their teen titans days, but still ends up in a fwb with Jason when he's asked to help Jason run the iceberg lounge... somewhat plotty, smut in basically every chapter, so fucking good

Let me shipwreck in your thighs - we all have a thing for Jason's thighs, lbr

Arrows and Bullets - a two fic series. injured Jason falls into Roy's apartment and stays there until he heals. once again, some quality Lian stuff here. the sequel fic has some minor Jason-comes-back-home and surrounds christmas.

Boys Don't Cry - trans!Jason. I think this does have a minor plot?? I can't remember it's basically just fifty thousand words of marathon sex over the course of like at least a week

there's a middle ground between ace and outright smut actually

Some Kind of Disaster - this is actually one of my favorites and I've reread the whole thing more than once even though it's a mildly long series (although tbf I've reread longer). instead of outright dying at sanctuary Roy is just grievously injured and Jason runs to his side the moment he hears and refuses to leave. there's a lot of angst. one of the fics is smutty; halfway through the series Roy discovers Lian exists and that's where the plot really kicks in. so good

The Midnight Snow - Robin!Jason is in a time loop and Roy gets trapped in there with him

Flowers Are My Love Language - Jason keeps trying to get Roy to date him using flowers, and Roy simply refuses to get the message

Around Red Hood's Barn - Neighbors au where Roy and Jason are still partners as vigilantes, Roy just doesn't know Red Hood's identity, and Roy CANNOT STAND his new neighbor Jason. I love me some good identity shenanigans in a superhero fic

Magnet Tar Pit Trap - I already linked one cowboy au in the first fic rec (linked above), why not one more

other

remember how canonically Roy died in Heroes in Crisis? ow. I actually already rec'd my favorite one of these in the first Jason fic rec (linked! above!) so check that one out too

It is only, and all about Roy - I actually really regretted not putting this in the original fic rec (again, linked above). Jason shows up in Star City and ends up collaborating with Oliver. JayRoy is only implied but either way Jason is clearly deeply grieving Roy's death and so is Ollie

Please, come back - JayRoy were together before sanctuary and Jason grieves his death deeply. happy ending tho!

anyway yeah that's some good fics believe me when I say I could've rec'd twice as many honestly. unfortunately I had to stop somewhere so that's it for now

[salora-rainriver]

We're talking about Ads Again

Context for those followers of mine who weren't there: I made a post about tumblr ads being weird back in 2016 and it's literally still getting notes to this day. People responded GREAT to it. honestly, despite being like. ass old at this point and written by a literal high schooler, it's still pretty good! I thank my dad being in advertising helped significantly. I had an expert witness.

Tonight, I'm writing the sequel to that post. the sequel is this post.

let's just fucking dive into it or whatever.

why am I doing this?

okay for starters I made that post in goddamn 2016 and I refuse to believe my insights into the marketing world have not improved since then.

Also, the marketing world has CHANGED. Huge swaths of my old post are no longer relevant. What we saw with tumblr ads in 2016 was in some parts a passing fad, and in other parts the harbinger of a new wave of influencer marketing and corporate parasociality (I coined that term just now).

Honestly I've been thinking for a while that I should make an update post, but what with, yanno, adulthood, that's been kinda hard!

Well, I've missed a train, and it's Christmas, so I've finally found the time to do that.

What has Changed?

in my personal life... dad got fired! yeah it fucking sucks. the good news is he and his wife are working towards their retirement now, shifting away from the industry overall. Good news as far as life is concerned, but it does mean I no longer have as clean a connection to the Industry as I used to.

but more importantly, why he got fired. The fact is, dad's old! I know, shocker. More than just being old, though, his field (and my stepmom's field - they both did the same work) represents an older paradigm of advertisement. he did TV spots and posters, not ad reads for Raid Shadow Legends. He was great at his work, but we're in an era of data-driven, maximalist, google adsense, low-barrier-to-entry, super-fast and super-cheap digital advertisement.

Well, more specifically,

We're on the cusp of an extinction event poised to bring said era crashing to the ground.

Pictured: the current vibes in the ad world

Siberia is on Fire and Everything is Dying

So given that my typical source on stuff like this is currently unemployed, I decided to hit good ol google (well, google and duckduckgo. fitting given what we're talking about) to see if I could get any insights into what the current state of advertising is.

and the short of it is that everyone says the end is nigh. check this out:

Digital is dead, and so is TV. God fucking damn. BY THE WAY, I loved these two articles. Chris Gadek, a man I only learned about today, is clearly an excellent writer and his professional insights are probably gonna be way better than my amateur synthesis of the half-dozen different articles I read today, including his.

blatant shilling for random article writers aside, let's get on to my half-baked synthesis, starting with:

What Set Siberia on Fire

In small part, it's the same issues facing most major companies and industries in our late capitalist world: Hubris.

As this New York Times article points out, we've got a low barrier of entry into a gargantuan industry that's increasingly pumping out slop to follow a strategy of 'more is more'. And we've all seen the bizarre mobile game ads and shady scams that have resulted from THAT.

On top of that, we've also got the fucking digital privacy issue shaking up the entire world as consumers increasingly don't like being spied on (imagine that), and the EU starts rolling out heavy restrictions on the data harvesting that was fueling a bunch of this advertisement bubble.

There's also the ad fraud. Oh, you didn't hear about that? Well, it's nothing much, just that lots of bots are clicking ads to falsify click metrics, artificially inflating the effectiveness of said ads. look, it even has a wikipedia article

oh and Facebook did it. Facebook did ad fraud. :)

and I'm not even getting into everything that works to shake up or demolish basically every advertisement channel out there - the decline of cable tv and print newspapers, the increasing use of ad blockers, the crisis of consumer trust, etc etc.

In short we are looking at a multitude of micro-crises all working together to make the environment unlivable for most current forms of advertisement.

in other words: an extinction event!

Who's Gonna Survive

And just like in a real extinction event, whether or not you survive depends on how good you can adapt to the brave new world you've found yourself in. Old school advertising needs to drastically rethink their everything if they're gonna stay afloat, and every field of the industry needs to recreate itself. As my new favorite writer Chris Gadek says,

"These crises show that there are no safe havens. You can’t substitute one advertising medium for another. Rather than pivot, the advertising industry must adapt and learn to effectively use the channels at their disposal (TV included), factoring in the seismic societal and technological changes that have occurred over the past decade and beyond."

and what is that going to look like? what's going to be the new face of advertising?

The field seems torn, at first... but also aligned, at least when it comes to the core principles:

privacy is a big issue. Seems like a lot of advertisers are seeing an end to wanton consumer surveillance, and looking into less invasive ways to gather important and meaningful data

companies that rely on selling ad space and propping up their engagement metrics are going to be relied on less, probably, because the metrics themselves are being seen as less reliable (for good freaking reason)

regaining consumer trust is going to be a massive priority in the future.

overall, we're probably going to look at a massive downturn in ads, as people turn to a quality-over-quantity strategy in an attempt to stop flooding the attention marketplace.

that's the gist I'm getting from reading oh so many different articles of varying quality from so many different sources.

So, yanno, there may be some hope out there. If smart people start leading this industry (lol), we may get to actually enjoy ads.

Yeah. Enjoy ads.

Unironically.

I know, it's crazy.

PS: if you start seeing affiliate links on mainstream TV ads, thank our lord of excellent business analysis Chris Gadek for calling it early. God, that's such a crazy left-field idea and I really want it to actually happen.

[lestappenforever]

The Box In The Closet

Lestappen | 6 099 words | Fluff | Rated T | Sequel by @f1writingbyme and @lestappenforever

As promised, here it is!

You asked, we deliver: the Christmas gift Max never got to give Charles in The Seasons of Heartbreak. We wanted to answer this question in the only way we know how: by writing these two being idiots in love with just a touch of humor.

You can read the full fic on AO3 here.

Summary:

The box is still mocking him.

“Hey,” he greets, because he’s not a neanderthal. Then: “What’s in the box?”

“Hey,” Max greets back. Then, simply because he can and will avoid the subject as long as possible: “How was lunch?”

“Fine. Joris is mad at me, though,” Charles responds, refusing to elaborate because that’s not what needs to be the focus right now. He asks again. “What’s in the box?”

“Why is Joris mad at you?” Max asks, bluntly ignoring Charles’ question once again.

Charles wants to shake him, just a little. “Because I was distracted all through lunch. What’s. In. The. Box?”

“Why were you distra—,”

“Max Emilian Verstappen, what’s in the fucking box?!”

---

OR: The contents of the fucking box Max kept stashed in his closet from The Seasons of Heartbreak are finally revealed.

[let-your-chaos-explode]

Sub Rosa

Sequel to "Behind Closed Doors."

You definitely don't have to read that one to enjoy this one. Readers beware, shameless smut in this one. Enjoy the story!

Sub Rosa

Clarissa Dovey paced nervously in front of the ornate vanity in her bathroom. She stopped to inspect her makeup once more and the pacing continued. Back and forth. A brief pause to pin an errant curl. More pacing. 

What if she didn’t show up? 

What if she has made a total fool of herself? 

What if this was all a huge mistake and she had just ruined the most important thing in her life? 

Dovey halted once more and grasped the edges of the porcelain sink. She hung her head and closed her eyes. Inhaling a shaky, deep breath, she smoothed down the creamy satin of her robe. 

‘Get yourself together! This is ridiculous.’

The Good Dean did one more mirror check before resuming her pacing in front of the bedroom door. She jerked violently in response to a singular, sharp knock against the solid oak. 

Her heart squeezed and twisted into a new, unidentifiable shape before it soared. She felt like a poor imitation of a balloon as it floated away. Where was the string to ground her? 

“Listen, Dove, I’m sorry I’m late!” Lady Lesso’s muffled voice called through the door. 

Clarissa did not let her finish. She threw open the door and yanked the woman in without so much as a “hello.” 

Lesso stumbled through the door, cane clattering to her feet, before she was pushed roughly onto the bed. She blinked dazedly.

Clarissa stood in front of her, clad in a short satin robe with her blond curls piled loosely atop her head. Warm light from the setting sun slanted through the curtains of the window and Lesso was certain that the woman was not a fairy godmother, but an angel. 

“I think I could get used to the manhandling.” She smirked up at her. 

But Dovey’s nerves finally got the better of her. Clarissa shifted slightly from foot to foot and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. Leonora’s eyebrows furrowed as she took in the woman’s body language. 

“What’s wrong?” Lesso asked simply. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Dovey blurted. 

A deep blush heated her cheeks and extended down into the V of her robe as she bit her lip. Lesso wanted to chase the color with her tongue. 

“Are you sure you want me?” Clarissa added quietly. 

Leonora sucked in a breath through her teeth and blew it out slowly. She flattened her palms against her thighs to keep her hands from reaching out and misbehaving. 

“Clarissa, I believe I have made my feelings on the matter explicit.” She said, swallowing thickly. 

Dovey took another step forward. Her hands fiddled with the tie at her waist and Lesso bit down hard on the lateral edges of her tongue. 

“Tell me again. One more time.” Dovey whispered. “Please.”

Her doe eyes were large and pleading. 

“I want nothing more than to be here with you. Only ever you.” Leonora said firmly. “Is this what you want?”

“Lesso, I have wanted this for so long and I never thought it possible.” She laughed through a sob. 

“Leonora.” Lesso reminded her. “And if you don’t come over here and finish what you started, you’d be the most Evil person to bless this godforsaken realm.” 

She did not reach out. She kept her hands achingly still against her trembling thighs. If this was happening, Clarissa needed to be in control…to make the first move. She refused to ruin this for herself. 

Leonora watched as all the confidence returned to her little Dove. The blonde’s posture straightened, bringing Lesso’s attention to the forward thrust of her chest. She could see the cream-colored lace of Clarissa’s matching bra peeking through under the edge of her satin robe. Her petite hands had stopped their fiddling and tugged firmly on the sash, allowing the covering to fall away. Leonora’s eyes darkened as she took in her freshly unwrapped present. 

Clarissa stood proudly in a sheer, lace-lined, floral balconette bra and matching panty set. Lesso choked back a moan and clenched her thighs together at the throb of need making itself known at her center. 

“I’m all yours.” Clarissa invited huskily, raising her arms in display. 

The verbal consent was all it took for Lesso’s self-control to finally snap. She gripped the enchanting woman before her by the waist and pulled her down to straddle her lap once more. Leonora muffled Dovey’s startled gasp with a bruising kiss. Her fingers, finally granted the freedom from their self-imposed restraint, buried themselves into Clarissa’s impossibly soft, blonde curls and tugged loose every pin. She broke the kiss only to gaze adoringly at the dream in front of her. Lesso combed through the waterfall of silken, white-gold and twirled perfect ringlets around her fingers. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” Leonora admitted softly. 

“Kiss me or play with my hair?” Clarissa asked with a breathy laugh. 

“Both.” She answered, stealing another languid kiss. “I want to do this right, Dove.”

Clarissa cradled the woman’s face in her hands gently. A warm smile illuminated her face and she kissed her once more, endeavoring to pour the depth of her feelings into the connection. 

Leonora’s hands found purchase on the smooth expanse of Clarissa’s thighs and pulled her closer, swallowing the moan of pleasure that erupted from the godmother’s lips. Her fingers dug into the warm flesh with a firm squeeze before traveling on. They slid over her full hips, skimmed over a slim waist, and came to rest just under the curves of her breasts. 

Dovey’s warm hands covered Lesso’s and guided them impatiently up to cup her breasts. Leonora graciously took the hint and shifted her attention. Her tongue and teeth began a purposeful descent from Clarissa’s swollen lips, down her neck, to the swell of her chest before attaching wetly to her nipple through the sheer fabric of the balconette. Dovey’s sighs spurned her on. A clever hand reached behind and deftly released the hooks of the offending material. Lesso released Clarissa’s nipple only to discard the bra and re-attach to the neglected side. She grazed her teeth against the hardened bud and relished in the groan she earned in response. 

Clarissa’s prettily painted nails dug into Leonora’s shoulders through the crispness of her white shirt before yanking at her necktie. 

“Take it off.” The Good Dean commanded roughly. 

“Yes, Ma’am!” Lesso acquiesced against Dovey’s flushed chest, 

Lesso pulled the tie pin and in one swift motion, slid the tie from around her neck. Clarissa did not wait for further delay. Without hesitation, she yanked the white shirt from Leonora’s slacks and ripped it open from the middle, scattering white buttons across the floor. 

“Is this payback for the dress?” Lesso asked with a singular raised brow. 

“Maybe I’m just tired of waiting.” Clarissa said sweetly. 

Dovey trailed a glowing finger from the hollow of Lesso’s throat down and cut through the simple black bra, shoving the clothing away mercilessly. She flattened her palms against her chest and pushed her down, back flat against the soft bed underneath her. The Dean of Evil choked down a surprised yelp and gaped at the assertiveness the usually docile woman was displaying. The view from below, however, was divine. 

Clarissa settled her weight on Leonora’s hips and sighed contentedly. “You are so beautiful.”

Embarrassment fluttered in Lesso’s gut and she resisted the sudden urge to cover herself. Beautiful was not a word she ever associated with herself. Freckles and blemishes stood out in asymmetrical, dark contrast on her skin. And the scars…

“Don’t do that.” Clarissa’s whisper interrupted the trainwreck of Lesso’s thoughts. “Not here. Nora, you are so beautiful.”

Clarissa’s hands tenderly caressed Leonora’s cheek before tracing unidentifiable swirls down her torso. She mirrored Lesso’s earlier attention to pebbled nipples, sucking and kneading. But she didn’t linger. She slid down the length of her body, trailing wet kisses in her wake until she arrived at the hem of the Evil Dean’s slacks. Dovey’s eyes met Lesso’s in an unspoken request for permission. Leonora nodded vigorously, red curls wildly flying. 

In this endeavor, Clarissa finally slowed. Nimble fingers easily popped the button and she slowly slipped them down Leonora’s legs, never once breaking eye contact. 

“If we do this, there’s no going back.” Dovey warned, fingers teasing the edge of Lesso’s simple black panties. 

Leonora raised herself up on her elbows and caught the other woman’s eye. 

“Rissa, I never want to go back to the way it was before.” She said firmly. “Not when I know this is what is on the other side. When I know what your lips taste like…or how smooth your skin is…or what it feels like when you look at me like that.”

Clarissa bit her lip to prevent its trembling. 

“So if you don’t get on with it and fuck me right now, i’m going to lose it.”

She needed no further encouragement. She flung Lesso’s panties over her shoulder and curled her arms around milky thighs. She suckled teasingly against the crease of where thigh met hip and nuzzled at the small nest of cherry curls, inhaling her scent. Her own arousal spiked at the discovery of how ready Leonora was for her. Clarissa boldly swiped the flat of her tongue from base to peak, curling the tip deftly as she reached Lesso’s clit. She let go a low hum and dove back in for more. She alternated between full, deep licks and intense sucking, driving Leonora so close to the edge in record time. 

Lesso’s hands fisted in the sheets and she arched her back into the pleasure. 

“You’ve done this before.” She panted.

Clarissa tugged her closer and hummed once more. The vibrations and firm thrusts of her tongue sent Leonora careening towards the edge of the cliff. 

“Clarissa,” Lesso warned tightly. “Rissa, I’m right there.”

Dovey retreated only to apply pressure to Leonora’s pulsing clit with her thumb and deep strokes of her tongue. Leonora grit her teeth and came with a restrained cry and a shuddering breath. Clarissa lovingly caressed her thighs as she came down from her high. Cheeks painted a bright pink and eyes glazed, Lesso admired the sight of Dovey between her legs. 

“My turn.” She husked, flipping Clarissa onto her back with much more athleticism than the good fairy was expecting. 

Lesso trapped her hands above her head in a firm but gentle grasp. She captured the woman’s lips in another sensual kiss, moaning at the taste of herself that lingered there. With a quick nip to Dovey’s bottom lip, she ground her hips down to find more pressure. She could feel Clarissa arch up into her, brushing their breasts together and chasing any friction she could get to her throbbing core. 

“Tsk.” Leonora warned. “Do you like to be in control, little Dove?”

Clarissa keened underneath her and bucked again. 

“I let you have your fun. But now, I’m going to show you how good it can feel to lose control.” 

Lesso dove in and sucked harshly at the fluttering pulse point of Dovey’s neck. With a wet pop, she released the skin and soothed the already forming bruise with her tongue. With a glowing finger, her neck tie was summoned off the floor and secured Clarissa’s hands above her head. 

“Now isn’t that a pretty sight?” Lesso crooned. 

She hooked her fingers around Dovey’s sheer panties and dragged them slowly down her toned legs, touch light enough to tickle. Lesso grinned wolfishly at the shudder that wracked Clarissa’s frame. 

“Lesso, touch me already!” Dovey growled. 

Lady Lesso wagged her finger and tutted. “Not yet, love. Patience, after all, is a virtue.” 

Leonora used the opportunity to explore every inch offered to her. She listened to every hitch in breath and committed the sounds of Clarissa’s pleasured moans to memory. Head to toe, she learned what made the Good Dean shiver and thrum: a soft tug to an earlobe with her teeth, a wet suck to the inside of a wrist, a fleeting touch to the back of her knees, and a swirl of the tongue into her navel. 

By the end of Lesso’s teasing, Dovey was wound so tight she thought she would snap. 

“I don’t think I can take anymore!” Clarissa cried. “I need you inside me, right now!”

Lesso climbed atop her lover and captured a nipple into the warm cavern of her mouth. Feeling indulgent, she reached down and swiped a finger through Clarissa’s dripping folds. Using the weight of her body, she held the frenzied woman in place as she bucked up into Lesso’s hand. With one last hard suck, she released Dovey’s breast with a pop. 

“What do you want, Rissa?” She asked as she drew lazy circles around Dovey’s nub. 

“Fuck me, Lesso!” Clarissa begged wildly. 

The redhead pulled away and hummed. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please!”

Her finger swirled once more and dipped shallowly into Clarissa’s dripping entrance. With her other hand, she grasped the woman’s chin lightly to catch her eyes. 

“Say my name.” She asked, brushing her nose against Dovey’s lovingly. 

“Leonora, please.” Clarissa crooned. “Please make love to me!”

Leonora slid two fingers into Clarissa’s slick heat with ease and chased her sigh of relief with another kiss. She set a punishing pace that had the woman beneath her writhing in bliss. She slowed to add a third finger and slid down her glistening body to throw a thigh over her shoulder. Eagerly, she began to attack her engorged pearl with her tongue as she drove her fingers in to the knuckles. The fairy godmother was musky and sweet, an addicting combination Leonora didn’t think she would ever tire of. She slung an arm over Clarissa’s hips to hold her steady as her bucking became erratic. 

“Nora, don’t stop!” 

Spurned on, she redoubled her intensity despite the burning ache in her wrist. She curled her fingers deep inside Clarissa and stroked against the rough patch inside her, sucking furiously on her clit. She was rewarded with the tightening of Clarissa’s muscles, pulling her impossibly closer as her whole body stiffened. Erratic fluttering of her inner walls danced along Leonora’s fingers and the warm wetness exploded on her tongue. Unlike Lesso, Dovey screamed her release and it was music to Leonora’s ears. She continued her thrusts as Clarissa rode through the aftershocks of her orgasm and slowed only as the woman collapsed into the bed. 

And with a smug smirk, she licked each of her fingers clean. 

Leonora untied the still-trembling woman and lay next to her, reaching out to play with the mussed blonde curls that fanned out on the pillow. Clarissa caught her breath and smiled brightly as she intertwined their fingers together. She brought their joined hands to her lips and kissed the back of Leonora’s hand before letting them rest over her racing heart. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” She asked, twinkling brown eyes pleading silently. 

Leonora matched her smile with a broad one of her own. “Dove, you’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me after a night like tonight.”

“Promise?” Clarissa asked saucily. 

“I’m all yours.” Leonora said, sealing the promise with a good-night kiss. 

Dovey pulled the covers up around them and snuggled tightly into Lesso’s open arms. Who knew all it would take to achieve her happily ever after would be to lock her Evil Dean in a closet with her?

Maybe one day she would tell her…

[alanadamoondemon-artblog]

Sir Daniel Fortesque (Redesign / Reimagination " Reincarnation " AU)

Sir Daniel Fortesque, The Hero of Gallowmere, was known to be a legend for many centuries... But legends are often known to change details throughout the sands of time.

Daniel Fortesque, or simply referred to as " Dan " by his friends, was once a bard who would sing songs about his heroic feats, And he had told many stories about his achievements to the nobles for years. In truth, however... he did not do any of those daring adventures, nor did he have slain dragons. He is secretly a coward who is easily scared and that he doesn't have the skills to fight. The reason behind his boastful stories for he truly loved the attention and that he truly desired to be a hero, like the ones in the story books he had read as a child. Eventually, His fantastical stories would reach the King of Gallowmere and to be summoned by him. He was by all means terrified of what he gotten himself into and but he doubled down his lies and tells fantasy tales to King Peregin. The king had enjoyed the stories so much that he made him a knight and appointed him head of the Royal Battalion, which made Sir Daniel faint from the shock of being given such a high position. Thankfully, it was just an honorable post since the Kingdom of Gallowmere had never been into war for many centuries, and peace had thrived within the land of Gallowmere, so Sir Daniel mostly rearranged the castle guards and played croquet with the king but also had fallen in love with the astronomer's daughter which he vowed to marry her.

Sadly, that peace would not last forever when Zarok had returned. He was once a court magician who had performed his magic tricks for the King but was banished to exile when the king discovered that he started to tamper with dark magic and had learned the art of necromancy, Zarok had hated the kingdom's simple and peaceful ways that he had planned to unleash an undead army to take over Gallowmere. Zarok would declare war on Gallowmere, and it was up to Sir Daniel Fortesque to lead an army and to slay the tyrannical wizard. He was downright terrified, and he badly wanted no part of it, yet he refused to disappoint his king and reveal his lies. Sir Dan hoped that he would miraculously defeat Zarok and save Gallowmere like in the fairytale books, so he charged headfirst into battle with his army following him behind. Sadly, his life would come to a pitiful end when he was shot right through the eye by an arrow, and his army had to fight without him. The army had successfully defeated Zarok's army and saved Gallowmere but at a high price. None of the army had survived, and the evil sorcerer had escaped without a trace.

King Peregin was understandably disappointed by Sir Dan's failure to destroy the sorcerer, but he wanted to give hope to his people. Thus, He declared that Sir Daniel Fortesque had successfully defeated the undead army and slain Zarok before succumbing to his mortal wounds. Fortesque went down in history as the Hero of Gallowmere and songs are still sung that he spearheaded the charge deep into the accursed multitude and how demons fell before him like wheat before the scythe, the Kingdom were at peace once again and it seemed to last for hundreds of years. Until the sorcerer had returned to once again take over Gallowmere and raise his army of the dead, which he would mistakenly resurrected Sir Daniel Fortesque. He was gifted with a second chance of saving Gallowmere and living up to the legend, a second chance that he thought would never come.

----------------------------------------------------

Heyo! This is my first time doing a Reimagination on a piece of media I love and believes it deserves better. ^^

MediEvil is a very underrated video game series, and I am very fixated on Sir Daniel Fortesque and the neat Tim Burton like style it has. I love the first game and that I find the story pretty interesting, but the sequel isn't really good, for I have a lot of issues with the story and characters. I think they could have done so much better with MediEvil 2 and also the Reimagination MediEvil, eh it is somewhat interesting, but I think it had estrayed too far from the og game. The 2019 remake is pretty good, and I liked it the updated graphics and the cutscenes. However, the cursed official comicbook " Fate's Arrow " is what I truly hate because it is honestly worthless and that they butchered Dan's backstory and I hate that it involves time traveling for I think MediEvil shouldn't be involved with.

So yeah, I sincerely love MediEvil and that I want to give it my own take on the series by rewriting MediEvil 2 and possibly the comic book for it desperately needs an makeover. But yes, I'll be doing my own Reimagination on the series and to give it my own headcanons and ideas, but first I'll be doing the redesign on Sir Daniel Fortesque and rewriting his past life since I really disliked that they made his past self in the comic an irredeemable asshole and I refuse to accept that awful human design of him. And possibly with the other characters in the series like Zarok or the Heroes, who knows.

I will try to make the Reimagination to be faithful to the OG series and be as respectful to the characters, also to expect some OCs I would make for it ;)

[its-queenofthesilence]

I Cannot Live Without My Soul! Part 6 of ?

Notes:

Have some AndrAIa lore dump that while be relevant in this story but also not because I may or may not have planned a sequel. Or 5.... Also Megabyte being a grump, lmao.

PLEASE NOTE: Going forward, this is going to be edited in a way to remove stuff that violates the TOS. Nothing super graphic just smut basically. I know we have mature filters but I am not sure how Tumblr feels about smut so. Things removed will be replaced with blackouts or redacted, if you would like to read the uncensored version, please see the FF.net or A03 (Recommended) link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57835603/chapters/147208144

Chapter 6: You Cannot Fix What Is Not Wrong

Enzo Raphael Matrix(1) was bored. He had been scared initially when he had been throw into the holding cells, worried for his friends and family. But you could only be scared for so long before it gave way to other feelings. Anger, resentment, acceptance. Now he was just bored.

It had been a cycle, and he had nothing to do but bother the troops guarding his cell for attention, much to their annoyance. Feet against the wall, laying upside down on the bed with his head hanging off, he was whining as he repeatedly tapped his foot against the wall.

“Will you stop that!”

It was more of a request than a demand from the binome with a mustache that he can’t remember is called Chancy or Custard. He thinks it’s Custard.

“I’m Bored.” he said simply, refusing to stop tapping the wall.

‘Custard’ let out an scream, his sanity slowly whittled into nothingness every moment he was left in charge of this kid. "You're our prisoner, not our guest. You don't exactly get to be entertained."

Enzo (1) rolled his eyes, the tapping increasing in speed. "Come on Custard, can't you at least let me out for a bit? I promise I won't try to escape or anything."

Chancy let out another small scream, barely contained behind clenched teeth. Or what equated as teeth for a binome."For the last time, it's Chancy! And absolutely not, I'm not letting you out of that cell. You're a prisoner, how many times do I need to tell you?!”

Enzo (1) let out an exaggerated sigh, finally relenting on the incessant tapping. "But I’m boreeeed.” he repeated, whining.

Chancy shot Enzo (1) an exasperated look. "Well, you're just going to have to deal with it. You're lucky we're keeping you alive at all."

Enzo (1) crossed his arms, pouting petulantly. "This is so unfair. I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You're associated with the Guardian and those other troublemakers," Chancy retorted. "That's reason enough as far as Lord Megabyte is concerned."

The copy opened his mouth to argue further, but was cut off by the sound of the door to the holding cells sliding open. Both he and Chancy turned to see another Binome stride in. A bit portly around the middle with a fading hairline, the other man seemed tired.

“Captain! Please tell me you have new orders. Anything but guard duty.” ‘Custard’ begged.

“‘Fraid not, Lord Megabyte still hasn’t ordered any attacks yet.”

“Still? It’s been a cycle since he took over the Principal’s Office and still no plan for wiping the rebels out?”

“No, I heard from some others that he’s been having Herr Doktor run tests on him; something wrong with his code apparently.”

“What about Megabreath?” Chancy breathed in once, then exhaled slowly. He knew he had been given strict orders not to kill the kid but that was becoming harder by the second.

“Nothing that concerns you kid! I swear to the User, I am going to delete you.” he growled, walking right up to the energy field separating them. Enzo (1) just started tapping the wall again with his foot causing the man to scream.

“Lieutenant, what’s the issue? The Lord told us to leave them alive.” The captain said, irritated. If there was one person not cut out to be a Neo-Viral, it was Chancy. The man had no sense of keeping cool and collected. Yet Megabyte kept him around for some reason.

“He’s being annoying!” the man gritted out to his superior.

“So take a walk solider, they’re not going anywhere. Honestly, use your head!”

The pair walked off, leaving Enzo alone with his thoughts. If he was big and smart like his bigself, he would try to break out. But he was just a small sprite with nothing to help him escape. Sighing, he sat up on the bed and turned to look over at Phong.

Megabyte had either been kind enough, or didn’t care enough to put both sprites in a shared cell. It made him feel a bit better. Phong however had been quiet the last few days. Medics had been in to stabilize him and make sure he didn’t just delete program (Megabyte needed him alive, other wise he wouldn’t have bothered) but the elderly sprite seemed lost in thought almost.

"Phong?" Enzo called out hesitantly. "Are you ok?"

The sprite in question slowly lifted his head, his wise eyes meeting Enzo's. "I am as well as can be expected, my child," he replied wearily.

"Do you think the others will come for us?" Enzo asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

Phong let out a heavy sigh. "I am certain they are doing all they can to mount a rescue. But Megabyte has the entire Principal Office locked down. I fear it may not be so simple."

“Is that why you are so quiet? ‘Cause you’re scared of what’s going to happen?”

“I will admit, I am afraid but no young sprite. I apologize, I have been thinking.”

“‘Bout what?”

Phong paused. He didn’t know how to tell it to such a young sprite, or if he should at all. There were just somethings that Enzo shouldn’t know about yet.

He’s worried for the others yes, but he’s more worried about Dot and extension AndrAIa. He thinks back to the Wedding, what would have happened if Bob had not shown up. The Wedding Night.

Despite insistence that he had standards, the old vector sprite couldn’t help but worry that in his pursuit for revenge, the virus intended to harm the pair more than just torture and deletion. He remembers the look on the Viruses face, looking at ‘that’ video file. He had not been able to see the entire video (or the other one really) from where he had laid but he had seen enough to know what the virus was looking at.

If he was capable of torture, mayhem and destruction, why not [REDACTED]?

Phong let out a heavy sigh. "I do not wish to worry you, my child. These are simply an old man's concerns. Let us have faith that our friends will find a way to rescue us."

Enzo nodded, though he could see the worry etched on Phong's face. The elderly sprite was always so calm and collected, to see him this unsettled was also unsettling for Enzo.

“Phong?” he asked timidly, pressing his back against the cell wall.

“Yes, my child?”

“What’s a ‘whore?”

To say he was angry would be an understatement. He was enraged, infuriated, rabid, incensed; he could go on. With a snarl, he over turned a gurney that had been shoved into the corner of the Medical Bay, not able to contain his anger.

A cycle of scans and tests, and still no answer to his problem. In the mean time, his plans for vengeance had been put on the back burner as he tried to deal with the increasing need for AndrAIa her that had been building within him. The virus, nor the doctor by extension, had not been able to sleep properly in a week, his body overworked and overtired.

Every thought was now related to the Game Sprite in some way, shape, or form and he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt like he was going to explode.

“I thought I told you to find the problem!”

Herr Doktor who up until now had been trying his best not to nod off from lack asleep, found himself wide awake as he became the target of Megabyte's outburst, quickly backing away from the fuming virus, still holding the .doc file that contained the results of the most recent scan.

"I apologize, mein Herr! I'm trying mein best. If you could tell me vhat I am looking for..."

“I told you! Any changes in my code!” The virus reached down to pick up the doctor by his neck and began to squeeze; not enough to harm him but to state his dissatisfaction.

"A-ah, mein König, Maybe ve should start vith your symptoms rather than lo-looking at your code. It vay be easier." choked the Binome, struggling to breath a bit.

By now, the mad scientist had gotten out of his lord that something had happened when he encountered the Game Sprite in the hallways of the Principal’s Office. Unfortunately, his lord was reluctant or unwilling to provide any more detail than that.

With a snarl, Megabyte dropped the smaller creature, allowing him to quickly scurry backwards and out of grabbing range. The virus puzzled for a moment, debating the idea. Herr Doktor was probably right, starting with symptoms would probably be easier, or at least give them somewhere to start.

"Very well, let's start there then. What would you like to know?" he asked, trying to reign in his temper.

Herr Doktor straightened his rumpled lab coat, clearing his throat nervously. "Vell, for starters, vhat exactly happened vith the Game Sprite? You mentioned something...unusvual occurred between you two."

The virus paused, his clawed fingers tapping against his chin as he considered how much to reveal. "It was...strange," he began slowly. "There was a burst of light that came from her that began flowing into me, causing me- us, to glow. I've never experienced anything like it before."

Herr Doktor's eyes widened, taking a moment to jot something down on his organizer.

“Vhat else Mein Herr?”

Megabyte's brow furrowed as he tried to put into words the strange sensations he had felt. "It was...odd. The light only lasted mere nanoseconds but when it was gone, I felt a surge of emotions that I've never experienced before - a sense of contentment, even happiness.”

He paused, a look of frustration crossing his face. "But it didn't last. As soon as the hacker intervened and she fled, the feeling faded leaving me feeling…I don’t know. Now I just feel...off. Unbalanced, in a way I can't quite describe."

Herr Doktor nodded thoughtfully, jotting down more notes. "Interesting. And have you noticed any other changes? Anything physical or in your behavior that is out of the ordinary?"

Megabyte frowned, thinking back to the previous cycle. "I've found myself...distracted, in a way I'm not accustomed to. My concentration has been poor, and I find my thoughts constantly returning to AndrAIa." He let out a frustrated growl. "It's maddening. I can't seem to focus on anything else."

A look passed over the Doctor’s face, one that Megabyte couldn’t place. It was a look that was part confusion, that he understood, but also part something else, like the doctor knew something he didn’t.

“What?” he barked, the need for answers overwhelming.

“What do you feel when you think about her?”

“What? What does that that have to do with anything? I already told you, content. What more do you want?”

Herr Doktor shifted uncomfortably under Megabyte's piercing gaze, but pressed on. "Mein Herr, humvor me. In detail.”

“Fine! Happy, warmth, like I am able to infect the entire net at once, like I am going mad because I cannot bare the thought of her not being near!”

Herr Doktor's eyes widened as Megabyte rambled off his symptoms in increasing frustration. He hesitated for a moment, pondering how to broach this delicate topic.

"Mein Herr, I believe...I believe what you are experiencing may be a form of..."

He paused, trying to find the right words. "Infatuation. Perhaps even...love."

There was silence, and then, a deep guttural laugh that sent chills down the Doktor’s spine. He knew his lord enough to know what kind of laugh this was. This was not an amused laugh like when someone said something he thought was funny (usually revolving around Dot Matrix) or one done out of politeness. This was a laugh that meant someone had done or said something so stupid, that it infuriated the lord to no ends.

Megabyte's laughter rang out, dripping with derision and contempt. "What did you say?” he hissed. The claws, while now always out do to his new form, seemed to extend further as fury overcame his face.

Herr Doktor swallowed nervously, realizing he may have made a mistake. "M-mein Herr, I’m not saying that’s w—what it is! I was just speculating!”

The virus didn’t bother to grab the doctor again, instead choosing to tower over him before leaning down and getting inches away from his face.

"You dare to suggest that I, the great Megabyte, am capable of something as pathetic and weak as love?!"

Herr Doktor cowered under Megabyte's furious glare, his metal frame shaking with fear. "N-no, my lord! Of course not! Please, forgive me for overstepping!"

Snarling, Megabyte grabbed the doktor once more and threw him into the wall, causing the smaller man to scream in pain and terror.

With a roar the virus began to destroy anything he could get his hands on. Megabyte was in a full blown rage, destroying everything in sight. Overturned medical carts, glass vials, the wiring in the walls - nothing was safe from his fury.

The doctor cowered against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible as Megabyte's rampage continued. He knew better than to try and intervene - the virus was far too volatile in this state. All he could do was wait and pray that the outburst would pass quickly, and without him being a target.

After what felt like an eternity, Megabyte finally seemed to run out of steam, coming to a stop and panting heavily. Silence filled the air, one man too afraid to speak and the other lost in thoughts.

“Herr Doktor?”

“…Yes, m-mein herr?”

“I won’t delete you today, but don’t you ever suggest something so stupid again because I can promise you I will make your deletion a painful one. Understood?” The virus never looks at him, eyes fixated on an invisible target only he can see.

'“J-Ja.”

“Good. Now have the men prepare my limousine, it’s time I had a chat with the Game Sprite.”

Breathe in,

Breath Out,

Smile brightly, nod politely.

Don’t think about him it.

Everything is okay.

I mean, who cared if she had barely slept in a week, was avoiding her friends at any chance she got and was struggling to not to spiral into a episode self-hatred and depression?

As she walked the halls of the base, she gave small waves and hellos to the people working, trying to not notice the way they stared at her.

Like they had always stared.

“..Freak…”

“..not trustworthy..”

“..dangero-”

She can hear them all speaking about her. It’s nothing new. She has always been an outsider in this place. But now since the incident in the Med-Bay and rumors getting out about what happened in the P.O. (Thanks to Mike the TV who had been ever so kind to listen in on her and her friends and then spread the information like wildfire.) it had been worse than usual.

She hadn’t felt this isolated than ever; not even when she was in actual isolation. She stops and hisses, pushing the thought away. She wasn’t going to think of that place, it was behind her.

She shakes her head and continues forward, moving throughout the halls of the base and into the main chamber where her friends were gathered around a table. She can practically taste the tension in the air. She tries to hide her tiredness (And the thoughts of teeth on her neck) but finds it hard.

Everyone was confused about why Megabyte had not attacked yet and subsequently, was on guard. He had been radio silent the last cycle and aside from the ABCs protecting the Principal’s Office, there was no indication that he was even in Mainframe. He had made no appearances, no speeches, nothing.

Someone speculated that maybe he had escaped to the Supercomputer to infect it but Bob pointed out a portal of any kind required internet access and the wifi tower was still down(confirmed by Glitch who still couldn’t get a signal out of the system.)

So that left them on edge. In the mean time, they were trying to best come up with a plan to get back into the P.O. They likely couldn’t get back in through the Core, Megabyte had likely figured out that’s how they escaped and had men guarding the entrance. Besides, Phong was old and injured last time anyone saw him and Enzo was young; they were more likely than anyone to succumb quickly to the Core.

The group is chatting tersely, trying to pinpoint a plan when she approaches the table. There is a schematic of the P.O laid out, with various notes and items circled on it. She can see the flicker of worry in Bob’s eyes as he takes stalk of her.

“Did you sleep?” he asks silently. Her pursed lips in response tell him that no, she hadn’t.

(Razor sharp claws running over her skin.)

“Where were you?” Enzo is on edge more than any of them and quick to instigate a fight in order to release the pent up anger building up inside of him. It’s tiring but she’s used to it.

“Just out for a walk.” she lies, the smile threatening to fall. Each day it’s becoming harder to pretend around him.

“That must be nice. We’ve been here actually working!”

AndrAIa's smile faltered at Matrix's sharp tone. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. Conceal, don’t feel.

"I know you're all working hard, Sparky. I just needed some time to myself, that's all." To sleep; or at least she tried to until the thoughts became too much.

(A deep, baritone voice purring into her ear)

“Yeah well that’s all you seem to have time for. You’ve been avoiding me for the last cycle.” The renegade says accusatorily, eye flaring briefly as anger seeped out.

“Oh no, User forbid I be too busy and tired to FAQ your ass while in the middle of an active warzone!” She regrets the words as soon as she says them. Why was this happening? She’s supposed to be good at pretending and yet she keeps slipping up, it was never this hard before to lie.

Enzo recoiled briefly, taken aback by AndrAIa's uncharacteristic outburst before the shock turned into that familiar, tiring (so, so tiring), anger she was so used to at this point.

(Touching her between the [REDACTED].)

“You really think that’s what I fucking care about right now?” the Renegade leaned forward, anger spilling out of his voice. “Enzo and Phong are still FAQing at Megabyte’s mercy, and you think I give two shits about the fact that you’re not putting out?”

‘Yes’ But she does not say it. AndrAIa knows that while he is concerned for the others, he’s extra ornery because she’s been uninterested or just not in the mood to lie there and get it over with like she always does in exchanging codes the last cycle. She knows he uses it as a way to cope when stressed; his go to after alcohol and shooting things but she just can’t seemed to get in the mood because his hands were wrong and not the ones she wanted.

“Enough! I swear to the User, none of us need to hear this.” Bob interjects, a look of desperation on his face as he tried to end this very uncomfortable conversation. He doesn’t need those images in his head. AndrAIa felt her cheeks flush; momentarily forgetting about the others during the spat. She can see from the corner of her eyes Dot is looking down at the .doc she has open, trying not to look her in the eye, face red with embarrassment. Mouse just seems to be amused.

Matrix's grunted, turning away as he backed down reluctantly. A mix of frustration and hurt on his face. "Whatever," he muttered, turning his attention back to the map on the table. AndrAIa breathes deep, pushing it all back and a calm smile comes over her face.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked, her voice carefully level. She knows there will be hell to pay later, behind closed doors but she cannot focus on that now . "How are we getting Enzo and Phong back?"

Bob cleared his throat, exchanging a wary glance with Dot before speaking. "Well, we've been going over the schematics, trying to find any weak points in Megabyte's defenses. Unfortunately, he's really bolstered security throughout the entire building."

He pauses, tapping his fingers on the table as he thinks. "There are still a few service tunnels and access points that may be lightly guarded, but getting in undetected is going to be a challenge. And once we're in, we'll have to deal with getting Enzo and Phong out without triggering Megabyte's full wrath."

Matrix leaned forward, his cybernetic eye whirring as he analyzed the map. "We'll need a distraction - something to draw Megabyte's forces away from the holding cells so we can get in and get them out."

“We still haven’t decided what we’re going to do about Dad, or the rest of their people on the inside.” said Dot. That was another issue they weren’t sure how to deal with. Enzo might be safe because he was a child, and he needed Phong, but what about the rest of the team that had been in the War Room? They were either infected or deleted at this point; Megabyte would not show them the same courtesy.Then again, he might not care enough about a group of Binomes and chose to allow them to leave (after all, if you kill all your future subjects, who will you have left when it comes time to take over?) And Welman had the advantage of being a null; he could not be deleted, no matter how much Megabyte tried. He could feel pain of course, but that was different.

It was a conundrum. Obviously, to them Enzo and Phong were a priority, but to the families of the Binomes inside the P.O, waiting on news of their loved ones safety, they did not feel the same.

"Well, we don’t know if anyone else is still alive Sis. We should focus on just getting in before finding survivors. We could lead a frontal assault on the P.O.," Matrix offered, cracking his knuckles. "That would definitely draw Megabyte's attention." Everyone knew that he wanted a rematch with Megabyte more than anything; partially for what had been done to Dot but also for pride reasons; to put the virus in his place once and for all.

“Sugah, I’m sure after last time we came in swinging through the front door, he ain’t gonna let us stroll back in without a blood bath.” said Mouse.

Dot shook her head, a frown on her face. "I agree, it’s going to be more difficult this time if we attempt it and it’s too risky. We can't just charge in guns blazing. We need to be strategic about this."

By this point, AndrAIa had started to zone out, exhaustion creeping in. She was too tired to think straight, the call for sleep overwhelming. She leaned against the table, allowing her eyes to close for a moment. She..she just needed to rest for a moment.

AndrAIa's eyes slid shut as she leaned against the table, the exhaustion finally catching up to her. The others continued discussing their plans, their voices fading to a dull hum in the background as she allowed herself a moment of respite. And then, she’s pulled under.

She’s huddled in the corner of the cell, a book tightly held to her chest as she tries to protect it to no avail from the hands that rip it away. It’s a good book, she’s read it over and over since she got it. It’s a bit torn from constant use but in this place, it was all she had. A hope, a dream, that when she is an adult she will find it and be free.

“Where did you get this? ” a figure says, shrouded in shadow. The voice is familiar but an unwelcome familiarity and is feminine in nature. Each word drips with malice that AndrAIa knows is because she’s done something wrong.

She doesn’t tell her about the guard who had felt sorry for her and slipped it past the bars in the middle of the night. He was the only kind person in this place.

“I…I found it?” she offers weakly knowing, that it’s a terrible lie. Though the figure is shrouded, she knows that the woman is staring at her with hatred and malcontent.

“Lies!” The 0.8 year old screams, flinching as a hand strikes her cheek, the pain already forming into a bruise. Why did she have to always make her mad? She was trying to be good, she really was.

“You don’t get to have presents. Don’t forget, they’re dead because of you. You’re an abomination who deserves to be punished….Looks like I'll have to find new guards, such a shame. Cleaning up the blood will be such a bother.”

The woman pauses, noting the title of the book and then lets out a dark laugh.

“Oh, you poor, stupid thing. Just a child; Not even remotely of age and yet you think that the Goddess will bestow such a blessing on you one day? After what you’ve done? Foolish child.”

“But-”

“No excuses. Remember your purpose for being here. You are dangerous, and even if you were to find someone in adulthood, would it truly be fair to them? Do you want to subject them to the pain and suffering of being bound to a monster like you?”

“I a-am not a mOnStER!” she wails, curling in on herself.

“Yes, you are.”

“No!”

AndrAIa's eyes snap open, her entire body going rigid as the memory resurfaces. Fear and adrenaline lick through her; why now? On top of everything else going on, why was she thinking about that? She doesn’t want to remember. But then it hits her, the truth. Why IT had happened.

“DrAIa?”

She knows someone is calling out for her (she doesn’t know who, everything sounds staticky as she panics), hands reaching to touch her but it’s too much. The memory is burning into her, sending her into spiral that she hasn’t experienced since she escaped. “I need to get out of here“ is the only thing on her mind.

She bolts, pushing past figures left and right, blood pounding in her ears. Everything in her code says to run and to not stop; so that’s what she does. She doesn’t get far before something pommels her to the ground. Someone large and strong, pressing her against the floor, their hands pining her own.

She snarls and thrashes, unwilling to be contained. Other hands reach to touch her and it’s too much. In a quick motion, she detaches one of her arm fins out of reflex, causing it to go flying and it must hit someone because she hears a scream and then hands reactively releasing her. She is blind with panic and cannot think so when yet another hand grabs her hand, she turns and racks her nails across…a face? Yes, a face but she doesn’t know whose. The hand relents and she pushes further.

This time, nothing stops her and she runs and runs, and runs, flying past sprites and binomes alike, out of the base and into the streets of Mainframe, hair whipping in the wind, lungs burning with need to breath but she can’t breath, she can’t.

She’s always known she was a monster, so it suddenly makes sense why this happened.

This was her punishment; her penance for what she had done. There was no other answer. A monster for a monster.

She runs until she cannot breath anymore, falling over from exhaustion. Is she crying? She can’t tell anymore. She hears a thud but pays it no mind. Hands grab her once more and she thrashes, but unlike last time they do not let go; instead they wrap around her and pull her close. They feel familiar and wrong but so right. She relents, pushing her face against a chest that is metal and rough, marked by degradation and she breaks down for the first time in a long time and sobs. She sobs until she cannot feel anymore.

Next | Previous | Beginning

[vroombeams]

"nOt WoRtH dOiNg CoMmEnTaRy On" with love, shut up. i would love any kind of commentary on sweet talk because my brain leaked out of my ears when i read it today and i will never be the same again 💖

"with love, shut up" is just the Emy Albonoooo Catchphrase huh. love it

anyway hi 😭

so to talk about sweet talk i guess we gotta roll it back a bit to the loscar kink exploration anthology in general? i actually got the inspo for the series thru a kinkmeme prompt that i subsequently lost and for whatever reason could never find again so that's the lore there! but yeah, i'd started on like three or four different pieces meant for that series all at once (music to breathe to being the first), and i really had no intention of adding any other?? characters?? to the mix???? this was also SO not the first piece i was intending to post in the series

and then the alex heckling from the cuck chair tumblr post circulated and i was simply helpless in the face of inspiration and also hysteria? many such cases

i feel like probably i went through every stage of grief w this one, like i hammered out the draft SO fast and then the editing process nearly killed me. threesomes are fun to write! except that there are three people to keep track of. and that is one more than i typically have to deal with. so that's, you know. much. that last day of editing was like... i was prepared to scrap it entirely because i was just so frustrated with trying to bend the words the way i wanted them, but eventually just said ok we're doing one more editing pass and then we're posting it and we're walking away from it. and we did that

obv as i said in the notes for it, alex was absolutely meant to STAY in the damn chair but just refused to? the whole thing spun entirely out of control if i'm being honest like i had zero say in what was happening next at any given time, pretty much. i had the start (alex in the cuck chair what will he do!) the vague middle (logan is experiencing deeply horny mortification!) and the vaguest end (oscar's a puddle of goo!) but otherwise they all just kind of did what they wanted

anyway. wrote the threesome. intended to wash my hands of the whole thing because three people, as mentioned, more than two. but there is a sequel in the works because i have no sense of self-preservation and there will be more cucking! more goo-puddle oscar! all the hits!

MAN IDK IS THIS COMMENTARY. IS THIS ANYTHING. should i have talked about how my favourite bit was oscar drooling everywhere because that was my favourite bit. probably. actually i guess i could have talked about how there were points when i was writing where i started unconsciously making the faces that i imagined everyone having. in the fic. luckily no one was there to see that

i guess the last thing i can say about it is like... i had no idea that it was going to get the reaction that it did? like f1 as a fandom is always so kind and generous with comment quantity + quality but i just really was not expecting the absolute landslide of kind words that were DUMPED in the comments on ao3 for this one 😭 just very honoured and flattered and humbled to see that people enjoyed this doof-ass horny meme fic!!! (and i will one day get around to replying to the comments but every time i look at them i start getting all worked up and lose any grasp on coherency)

I HOPE THIS IS... ENLIGHTENING... or something ,

THANKS!!

director's cut ask game