#there are so many things wrong w today and i am this close to relapsing !!!

[starsonmarsy]

.

[earthshinex]

tease filled mornin

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: fluff w/ some sexual innuendos

summary: a few short and small innocent kisses ultimately turn into a game of “who can tease who better”

an: just an old story i wrote on wattpad from years ago that i wanted to share on tumblr :)

You and Bucky had been dating for about a year now and every single second you spent together felt like a dream. You were always so comfortable with him and you trusted him with your life. Sometimes he would have his relapse moments, moments when he would feel too vulnerable and scared to be around you. But it never made your love for him diminish. Nothing could.

When he wasn’t shutting you out in ‘Winter Soldier’ mode, he would be making you laugh or cuddling with you. He loved kissing you or holding you in his arms. And he definitely loved your touch; he craved it. So today was definitely not his or your day when you decided to tease him.

When you woke up, your back was flush against Bucky’s chest while his arm was wrapped around your waist. You rolled over to face him, only to see he was still sleeping.

“Great.” You thought to yourself. It wasn’t too bad though, as you quickly decided to take this time to admire his face.

His cheekbones were flawless; sculpted to perfection. You often teased him about being able to cut your finger on them. Those and his jawline, of course. You took notice of how thick and full his beard had gotten. He talked about how much he wanted to shave it.

“I think I need a new look.” He would often tell you.

He was wrong of course; he looked handsome with his beard and he absolutely did not need a new look. You stated this many times and so, you became the reason he hadn’t brought himself to shave it.

You continued to drink in every detail of his face. His hair was originally in a loose bun before you guys went to bed. But, the rubber band must have fallen out over night because his hair was all over his face and his pillow.

You pushed a few strands out of his face and tucked them behind his ear. This made him stir but not wake up. You started to trace his face with your finger which obviously tickled because he stirred again, this time turning onto his back. You didn't want to wake him; he looked so peaceful. However, you did want your boyfriend to wake up and shower you in kisses, as he always did. Today you decided you would return the favor.

You scooted in close to him, placing your hand on his stomach and lying your head on his chest. He instantly cradled you but you weren’t sure if he was awake or if it was just out of habit.

“Still nothing?” You questioned yourself. You quickly sat up and straddled him. If he wasn't awake before, he definitely would be now. You began leaving light kisses all over his face; moving from his forehead down to his jaw. He sighed, placing his hands on your hips, his eyes still closed. You both smirked.

“About time.” you whispered more to yourself than him. You continued with your assault and moved to his neck, causing him to let out a quiet groan. He felt you smirk against his skin.

"Someone's finally awake." You grin, still placing kisses on his neck.

"How could I not be?" He huffed, squeezing your hips.

You laughed, "Yeah well you weren't up yet. Had to take matters into my own hands."

You continued to kiss all over his neck, making sure your lips lingered on each one. He moved both of his hands to your back, rubbing circles.

"What're doing, doll?" He questions groggily, still drawing circles on your skin.

"Peppering you with kisses. You always do it to me." You say, trailing your kisses down to his chest.

“Yeah, well you know what that leads to…." He says, moving his hands back to your hips, giving them a light squeeze.

You sit up to face him, only to be met with a stupid grin plastered on his face, matching yours.

"Well Mr. Barnes, that will not be happening today." You laugh before hopping off your boyfriend and off of your shared bed.

You begin a slow path to the door, making sure to switch as much as possible; Bucky is definitely an ass guy. Once you reach the doorway, you turn around and lean against the doorframe, eyeing your boyfriend.

"Oh c'mon, Y/N. You know I can't resist you. Especially when you're wearing nothing." He sits up, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it.

"I am wearing something." You say, smirking. You take the hair tie off of your wrist and begin to play with it absentmindedly.

"Yeah, you're wearing my favorite bra and undies." He says, hopping out of bed and pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants.

Bucky had picked out the lavender colored lingerie set earlier in the year while he was on a trip to France. He claimed it would look gorgeous on you since he never saw you wear purple much. Needless to say, he was right. It quickly became not only his but also your favorite set.

"Still not nothing." You stick your tongue out at him.

You go back to playing with your hair tie, eyeing Bucky every once in a while. You bite your lip and you know you can see him internally fighting himself; you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. He walked over to you, taking his time, looking you up and down. He bit his lip at the sight of you, he’d gotten extremely lucky.

"You're killing me, doll." He says, putting his hands on your waist.

You reach up and wrap your hands around his neck, "I'm not doing anything." You say, grinding your hips against his. He lets out a soft moan and you laugh. You bring him down to you. He expects a kiss but you place your face beside his ear.

"Am I bothering you, Buck?" You whisper, taking this time to bite his ear, eliciting a moan from him again.

"Not at all." He replies shakily, his grip on your waist tightening a bit.

You remove your hands and step away from him, "Good." is all you say before he watches you retreat down the hallway.

***

Oddly, neither one of you were in the mood for breakfast. You wanted ice cream and Bucky wanted you.

You grabbed the tub of ice cream out of the freezer and grabbed a spoon all while Bucky watched you, biting his lip. He looked as if he might attack you. You placed the ice cream on the counter.

"Little help?" You ask innocently, extending your arms and making a grabbing motion.

Bucky walked over to you, picked you up and placed you on the counter. He stood in front of you, arms folded.

"Thanks." You say, opening the tub of ice cream. You began to eat it, making sure to lick your spoon clean each time. You knew it would drive Bucky crazy, which it did. Bucky moved closer so he could stand in between your legs. He placed his hands on your thighs, moving his face inches from yours.

You take the spoon out of your mouth, "Want some?" You offer.

Bucky ignored your question and instead looked at you, completely agitated. He looked like a kid who just couldn't quite reach the cookie jar. You shovel another scoop of ice cream into your mouth. A drop of ice cream falls off of the spoon and onto your breast. The freezing temperature on your skin made you squeal. You looked up at Bucky, only to see him looking at the drop of ice cream. Or at least you thought that's what he was looking at. You were about to wipe it off when Bucky brought his tongue to your breast, licking off the ice cream. You let out a soft moan and throw your head back, closing your eyes. “No way is he teasing me now.” You thought. You looked back at Bucky who was now smirking at you.

"Something wrong, doll?" He asked, tightening his grip on your thighs. He knew that his tongue and his hands were two of your weaknesses and boy, was he using them against you.

"I'm fine." You say, smirking back.

You push his chest lightly and hop off the counter, putting the ice cream up. Just when you're about to turn around, Bucky traps you between the fridge and his body. You have place your hands on the fridge to stay upright. Bucky's hands wrap around your waist as he starts to leave soft kisses on your shoulders.

"I've been playing nice, doll." He says, kissing your sweet spot, "But…..it looks like the tables have turned."

You turn around in his grasp, only to have Bucky push your back into the fridge. No way were you letting him turn this on you.

"I'm not the one who's rock solid." You say, palming him through his joggers. Man was he hard.

Bucky let out a grunt and bit his lip, causing you to smirk. You thought you were winning this little competition that had started until Bucky pulled your arms above your head, grinding both his hips and his hard on into you. You let out a soft gasp, slowly fluttering your eyes shut. Bucky held your arms with one hand and used the other hand to grip your waist, pulling you even closer.

"Well played, Barnes." You sigh, finally opening your eyes. He smiled, considering himself victorious.

Unfortunately, what came next was not what he was expecting. You wrapped your leg around his, making him trip and fall backwards. You both ended up rolling on the ground and in the end, you were straddling Bucky while he was on the ground trying to process what just happened.

"Started training with Nat recently, picked up a few things." You say, a smile playing on your lips. He let out a laugh, moving his hair from his face.

"So, do you surrender?" You say, leaning into his ear. You held his arms out to the side, surprised that he wasn’t trying to free himself from your grasp.

"Never."

Bucky easily removed himself from your grip, flipped you over and ended up on top, holding your arms to the side. He smirked as you processed what happened.

"Well played." You groan.

"Just give me what I want,Y/N. I know you want it too." He growls. He brought his face down to your neck, leaving kisses everywhere. He moved down to your collarbone, eventually letting go of your arms but it’s not like you were gonna resist now; the sensation of his lips on your skin gave you goosebumps. He kissed in between your breasts, making sure his lips lingered. And continued as he dragged his kisses down your stomach. You closed your eyes as you let out a small moan and ran your fingers through his hair. Maybe he had you captured. He began to kiss the inside of your thighs, making sure to get as close to your heat as possible. You began to arch your back, ultimately trying to bring him even closer to you.

Once he notices your arch, he stops his assault. "Looks like I win." He says, looking up at you, his face still in between your thighs.

He stands up, leaving you a little pissed he won the same game you had started and created. He offers you a hand which you gladly take. When you stand up, you lightly punch him in the stomach. He chuckles as he holds his stomach.

"This was supposed to be my thing." You whine, folding your arms like a child.

"Sorry, doll, I’m just too good.” He smiles. “Let me make it up to you?”

Bucky grips the back of your thighs and proceeds to pick you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. You place your hands on his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, placing a kiss or two. He carries you back to your bedroom and sits on the bed. You remove your face from his neck and scoot closer to him. He grins a big dopey grin at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You're so beautiful," he places a kiss on your forehead, "I want you to know that. And that I’m lucky to have you.”

You smile at him and place a short but sweet kiss on his lips.

"Finally" He breaths.

"What?" You laugh.

"I've wanted a kiss this whole time."

"I teased you this whole time over a kiss?" You say, dropping your hands from his shoulders.

He chuckles and nods, "The teasing was nice too though."

You lightly smack him in the head and fold your arms across your chest again. He laughs.

"I should do this more often. You're cute when you're mad." He says, pulling you close and placing a wet, sloppy kiss on your cheek.

"Yeah yeah. Whatever Barnes."

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees: 1. Start

Inspired by this post by @whumping-every-day​ and @justtorturewhump​ about a group of whumpees. I’ve been thinking about it on and off ever since I saw it but I finally got the giddyup to actually write for it

CW: Modern slavery, implied + referenced abuse, death of a minor character, multiple whumpees, transphobia (brief), aftermath of torture/conditioning

--

Galo settled himself into the hospital chair, perfectly comfortable and positioned at a thoughtful angle to the side, opposite the door so physicians could easily enter. He’d intended for this to be a quick visit, but clearly his aunt had other ideas, so he might as well take a seat.

“Here I am on my deathbed!” Auntie Bethany raved, flinging her arm about wildly, and Galo internally winced each time she got too close to jerking on the IV, “Only ONE person comes to visit me! In my whole family!”

To be fair, your whole family is made up of jackasses, Galo thought privately, raising his hands in placation. “Auntie Bethany, please, you were just admitted today. I’m sure plenty of people will show up tomorrow.”

“None of them want to visit me, even when I’m going to die!” she persisted. To be fair, Galo didn’t really want to visit her either. He just… well, she was family. And she was in the hospital. And even though his family was estranged and largely filled with self-centered, arrogant individuals that made any kind of holiday event a stomach ache and a half, he tried not to be. So here he was. 

“You’re not going to die, Auntie Bethany,” Galo said patiently. “You’ve had this surgery before, remember? And you made it through just fine. I bet the same surgeon still works here, even!” Galo tried for a positive tone, cheerful. 

“Ah, you’re such a good niece for your dear old aunt, sweetheart.”

“I’m your nephew, auntie, we’ve been over this,” Galo said through grit teeth, smile significantly more forced now. This is why no one likes you, Galo thought.

“That’s why I’m leaving you all of my estate, darling,” Auntie Bethanie continued like she hadn’t heard him. Galo blinked twice.

“I’m sorry, what?” Galo asked nicely, sticking his pinkie finger in his right ear as though to clear it out. “You’re…”

“I have my lawyer coming to the hospital,” Auntie Bethany said, “Go get me a pair of socks. They keep it so damn freezing in here.”

Galo rose and went to the cabinet, pulling out the soft yellow cloth and helping the socks onto her feet.

“I had planned to split my estate between everyone who showed up, but you’re the only one! So you get the jackpot, you’re welcome!” she said, well, nearly-shouted, as Galo tugged the socks on over the socks she was already wearing, struggling with the tightness. He was strong; daily visits to the gym had his arms thickly muscled, his chest broad, but he wasn’t exactly trying to break his elderly aunt’s foot here, so he couldn’t just shove.

“Thank you, Auntie Bethany,” he said, trying to sound actually grateful and not just tiredly patient. So this was her newest passive-aggressive ploy. After Galo told the rest of the family there was money involved, the others would show up with their plastic smiles and loud voices and then she would get to gripe at how they were only in it for the money, but change the will up anyway to keep them visiting. She liked to play “games” like that. Galo tried very, very hard not to sigh. 

It’d probably keep up after the hospital stay, too, Galo mused as he sat back down in the chair. People showing up to her home with flowers and wine and “earnest” attempts to make sure she was recovering just fine. Honestly, who knew how long she could drag this out? Her poor lawyer. He hoped she was at least paying them well.

The lawyer did, in fact, arrive, and Galo quietly apologized each time his aunt criticized or scolded the poor man.

“You’re uh, gonna need to use my legal name,” Galo said, handing him his driver’s license. “Not the uh, childhood nickname she keeps calling me.”

The lawyer gave him a sympathetic pat, and it was hours after Galo had planned that he finally managed to get out from under his aunt’s endless conversation and go home already. He sighed, dropping his coat on the floor of his small apartment’s entryway. For all that he was competent, intelligent, and good with organizational skills and the like; Galo had not been particularly successful in his life. He was good with people and good with life skills, he just. 

Bluh!

Bluh bluh bluh! Now was not the time for a pity party, or else he’d turn into his aunt. He played an hour of his most recent video game, an open-world with a semi-voluntary plot, before turning in for the night. He should think about investing in a rabbit or something. He could eek out the money, and his apartment got awfully lonely, with just him, a computer, and a potted plant.

In the morning, he knew he should email his family and let them know Auntie Bethany wanted visitors, and she was messing around with her will. He should. A good son, nephew, brother, and cousin would. But then his dad would call him, asking for specifics (it never mattered how many specifics Galo put in the email. His dad would always call and ask for more), and that would mean talking to his dad and he really, really wasn’t ready for that, at the moment. Or at all. He could do it later. It wasn’t like Auntie Bethany was actually dying, after all, she was just up to her hysterics again. And god, if Galo’s sister or brother decided they wanted more than just an email… if they decided to “pop in” after visiting their aunt and gloat to Galo about how now it was their names on the will…

Oh and don’t even get Galo started on what Uncle Mike would do. He was a bigger attention whore than Auntie Bethany.

So he just… didn’t write. Didn’t call. Nothing that big was happening, they could afford to wait a few days before feeding into Auntie Bethany’s weird games. She could probably use a little disappointment for the first time in her spoiled, nasty life anyway.

Galo took a deep breath and covered his face with his broad palm. He shouldn’t think like that. That was uncalled for. Auntie Bethany was a fine person, she was just rude, and loud, and inconsiderate. But she was family. He should be polite. But, still, it would be fine if she had to wait a little while for everyone to get in on her weird ploys.

So imagine Galo’s surprise when the hospital called him after work, letting him know his aunt had, unfortunately, not made it through her surgery.

--

Her mansion (and that’s really the only word that could describe it, though “castle” was more fitting, in Galo’s opinion (it had an estate garden, who has an ‘estate garden’?!?!)) was huge. Galo had made that observation before, of course, every time he’d spent the weekend as a kid and the couple of times he’d visited during a family gathering. He couldn’t really believe it was his. The castle, the pool, the garden, all of her badass furniture he’d been warned to keep off of as a kid, her hella entertainment system that he honestly couldn’t wait to hook his game consoles up to. Didn’t she also own slaves? He wasn’t certain; he tended to get as drunk as possible as fast as possible at family gatherings, in order to survive said family gatherings, but he was pretty sure she’d mentioned putting away her servants for the evenings since they were “eyesores” or some shit. And he definitely remembered her having one when he was a kid, a glass-eyed guy only about a decade older than Galo himself.

Whatever. He unlocked the front door with her keys, attached to his keychain now, and took in the familiar foyer. He should go upstairs and check if her turquoise guest room was the same as when he was younger. It had an en suite bathroom with a bath the size of a hot tub, and it could definitely serve as his new master bedroom. Auntie Bethany’s had been the size of a ballroom, and he really didn’t need all that space (or to sleep in the same bed his dead aunt had slept in, guh).

“Mistress, w--” a thin woman with pale hair and over-wide eyes entered swiftly, then flinched back, grinding to a halt when she saw Galo.

“S-Sir, I’m sorry sir, but our mistress is out at the moment. You will have to visit her at a later time.”

“Oh, uh, I’m, not a home invader,” Galo assured, setting his little potted plant down near the antique vase his aunt had boasted about so frequently. The poor lady was trembling visibly, though he had to give her credit for not screaming and calling the police upon seeing a stranger enter her home. He probably should’ve called out and introduced himself when he let himself in; he’d just been thinking about how Auntie Bethany had kept slaves. “My aunt had a relapse, recently, and was admitted to the hospital yesterday. Uh, her surgery didn’t go so well,” Galo said, rubbing at the back of his neck. He needed to shave down his undercut, he thought rather inanely. “She didn’t make it. I uh, I’m sorta the sole inheritor of her estate? For the time being; at the funeral I’m sure we’ll get into plenty of arguments,” he said with a forced chuckle. 

“My name’s Galo,” he greeted, extending his hand to the woman.

He was a little taken aback when she genuflected and kissed his palm, dropping fluidly and with unexpected grace. “Oh, uh, okay,” he said, cupping her face and stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Except, whoops, that was the wrong thing to do, he realized, since her face contorted and her whole body locked up.

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you,” Galo said, pulling his hand away immediately. She went down on both knees and pressed her forehead to the floor, further confusing Galo, her movements still fluid as silk.

“I apologize, Master. I reacted poorly.”

“No, no,” Galo rushed to reassure, his words making her flinch. “You’re good, you’re fine, it’s alright,” he tried, and that went over a little better. 

“I apologize if I have angered you, Master.”

“You--didn’t. I’m just, surprised is all.” He bent down and touched his fingers very lightly against the back of her hand, and he noted that she flinched again. Okay. Probably a trauma response. His aunt had likely picked her up from somewhere bad, but that was alright. He had significantly more emotional intelligence than Auntie Bethany; he was better suited to help this kind of person than she was. Would have been.

“Will you tell me your name?” Galo asked, voice intentionally calm and reassuring.

“...” He watched her swallow, his brows furrowing. Did she… not know her own name? “Whatever pleases Master best,” she eventually answered.

“Oh,” Galo said, voice soft and pitying. “No, that’s alright. You can tell me what you’d like to be called.”

“I--wouldn’t, be presumptuous, Master, and put words in your mouth.” Man, she was shaking like a leaf. He would definitely be stuttering, if he was that scared.

But a direct approach clearly wasn’t going to work, here, he couldn’t just do it over and over again and expect different results. He’d come at this from a different angle.

“You’re so obedient,” he praised, stroking a finger down her fingers and along the back of her hand, light as a feather. “You’re very good, you were trained to answer just like that, weren’t you?”

“Yes Master,” she said, sounding relieved. Good. 

“But right now, what I’m asking for is your name. If you don’t like the one Auntie Bethany called you, that’s fine, you can pick something else, but I’m not going to think of one for you, okay? I need you to do that, now,” Galo said patiently, feeling a little silly for talking to a grown adult in the same tone he might take with a crying child, but, well. Trauma response.

“Nyla, Master.”

“Good girl, Nyla.” He heard her breath of relief, and tapped the backs of his knuckles against her hand. “Stand up for me?” he asked, slipping his hands underneath her palms. He rose, and she stood with him, again with that eerie grace, pretty much none of her weight against his hands, although he had intended to help her up. 

“So, is there anyone else here I should meet?” Galo asked, smiling patiently at Nyla who did not meet his eyes at all. “That other guy. Gr… G-something.”

“Greyson, if it pleases you Master.”

“That’s it! He still around?”

“Yes Master. I can fetch the others for you, Master, and bring them to wherever you’d prefer to inspect us.”

“Uh,” Galo blinked twice. Okay. Nyla was clearly going to require a lot of delicacy, and while he was definitely equipped to do that, he wasn’t fast. “Sure, how about you get the others in the--” No, not the living room, the furniture in there was all tiny and mostly just for her weird 60’s aesthetic, “--den.”

He mentally added “den” onto his brand new list of things that made Nyla lock up. He should probably turn it into a physical list, at some point, since he was going to live with her now, and it was important to make note of things like this.

But the damage was done, and maybe this would be a good way to show her his aunt’s den wasn’t like… whatever it was, that she’d experienced before here.

His den. It wasn’t his aunt’s anymore. Auntie Bethany was dead.

It was a weird feeling, he thought to himself as he grabbed his potted plant and went upstairs to the guest bedroom that was, in fact, still just as cool as he remembered it. He set it on the windowsill of his house. It was a weird feeling, a really weird feeling, that someone he’d known all his life was suddenly… gone.

He didn’t miss her. He didn’t like her, and they certainly hadn’t been close. He wasn’t mourning her. But. Hm. His grandparents had all died before he could remember them, so he hadn’t really had a death in the family before. It was strange and almost-melancholy, thinking that his aunt would never again walk through this place. Would never hassle him about his hair at family gatherings ever again, or complain about the TV being too quiet, or eat cantelope with her mouth open.

He shook himself. He had other people to say hello to and introduce himself to. He gave his cheeks two smart pats and left the room, mentally plotting where he would put his own personal effects. And ugh, he had to get rid of that weird hall painting. Actually, why not just do that now; he was there and it was large, but if he gripped under the frame on top he could sorta-shoulder-carry it down the stairs. The weight wasn’t much of an issue. He was a particularly buff stud, after all.

“Oh, there’s more of you than I expected,” he mentioned offhand, reaching the den. Five slaves stood at strict attention, ignoring the human-sized furniture he’d intended them all to sit on, including a girl who couldn’t possibly be older than twenty. He stared at her, a muted horror not quite breaking past the shock. She was absolutely covered in bruises. Some were purple, some yellowing, some bright red and fresh, hardly older than two or possibly three days.

“Oh god,” he breathed, very, very deliberately reminding himself to move slowly as he approached her. Poor thing! Had she fallen? The bruises differed in age too much for that. He reached out a hand to her, slowly, well within her field of vision, but she still flinched.

“Master!” Nyla interrupted before he could touch. “That one is Lilah, she’s the gardener for the estate.”

A little thing like her? The whole estate? Using the machinery needed to keep up with a yard this big, no wonder she was covered in injuries! She was way too small to be handling stuff that could hurt her like this!

“Nice to meet you, Lilah,” Galo said gently, extending his hand again, just as slow and careful as the first time. Lilah sank to one knee, almost as fluid as Nyla, and kissed his palm, which. Alright! Cool! Sure! Maybe Auntie Bethany had gotten Nyla and Lilah together? 

Galo gave her a single, quick pat on her head, not wanting a repeat of whatever distress he’d caused Nyla in the foyer. Lilah was tan and freckled, with sunbleached brown hair, and wow, yikes, she was so small. Galo swallowed and turned to the next person in the lineup.

“Greyson,” Galo greeted with a smile. He looked a lot like he had when Galo was younger, just sorta gaunt now. Reddish-brown hair that was only just starting to sprout a handful of gray hairs, tall and skinny with knobby hands. “Remember me?”

“I do, Master Galo,” Greyson said with a bow, hand raised to his chest, and Galo chuckled.

“Good to see you again, dude. It’s been years,” Galo said, leaving his hands in his pockets. He’d already met this guy, however long ago that it might have been.

“It has, Master, I am delighted to see you again,” Greyson said, monotone and still bowing, but Galo was inclined to believe him. Greyson had always been like this, as near as he remembered.

“Look a little different than last time, huh?” Galo asked with a proud grin. Greyson lifted his head and quirked a very, very small smile of his own.

“I believe you’ve put some weight on, Master.”

Galo made note of how everyone else in the room tensed up at Greyson’s words, but he also laughed. “You bet I have,” Galo bragged, flexing an impressive bicep, before taking a mental red sharpie and writing DON’T DO THAT around the action in big letters. Lilah looked like she might cry.

He’d have to catch up with Greyson later. Or, well, get to know the guy? He hadn’t had much interest in the man when he was a kid, more preoccupied with the pool and old movie collection. He turned to the next person, a man closer to his own age.

“What’s your name?” Galo asked, calm, friendly smile that he used during work on his face.

“Evan, if it please you.” Evan had fluffy dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and strong, handsome features. 

God, everyone here was really formal. Greyson, he got. Again, the man had always been like that, but man. They sounded like they all came out of those weird books Auntie Bethany was always reading.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Evan,” Galo said, doing a little wordplay, and Evan lowered his eyes deferentially. Galo lifted his hand to maybe clap him on the shoulder or rub at his own hair or something, but Evan knelt mid-motion and kissed Galo’s hand and okay! Maybe his aunt had been the one with the hand-kissing-thing after all. That was weird as hell to think about, and Galo was gonna try not to.

“This is Sasha, Master,” Nyla stated when Galo turned to the last person in the room, a woman with thick, curly, dark hair and wide blue eyes. She was pale as a ghost. “If you will allow it, she does not speak very well, and I am capable of speaking for her, Master.”

“Okay, sure,” Galo said, not going to push too hard for information on that. And he wasn’t, like, gonna tell them no, either. If this was what made them comfortable, then alright, he could deal with that. “Nice to meet you, Sasha, you don’t need to kiss my hand.”

Sasha nodded tensely, and ugh, maybe he should have let her? Now she was the odd one out. Well, Greyson hadn’t either, so…

Nope, don’t overthink it. Galo could tell there was going to be plenty for him to overthink, moving forward, and he needed to get into the habit of cutting that in the bud right now.

“Alright, so, nice to meet you all,” he already said that. “I’m new, and I’m gonna be honest, the fanciest thing I’ve ever owned is my computer rig, so I’m probably gonna make a couple mistakes in the whole… running an estate, thing, at first. You’re all allowed and encouraged to make suggestions or tell me if I’m doing something stupid on accident, okay?”

It didn’t look like that was okay at all, but Nyla nodded with a “Yes Master” anyway so eh, Galo would take it.

What should he say now? Telling them they were dismissed would make him feel like a hoity toity jackass, but it also felt kind of lame to just… leave it at that. “I’m also a little slow,” he warned, “so please be patient with me. Sometimes I need an extra couple of seconds to think things through.”

“Understood, Master,” Nyla answered again, Evan swallowing nervously at Galo’s words. Yeah, he was definitely going to have to make physical lists of weird observations. Everyone here looked like they had trauma they were processing. Yikes. His aunt was hardly a philanthropist; why would she take in this many skittish people?

His stomach ended up saving him from further floundering, gurgling loudly. Lunch had been so long ago...

“Master, may we prepare dinner for you?” Nyla asked, swaning down to her knees and bowing her head low. 

“Yeah, actually, that’d be great. I’m allergic to mushrooms so nothing with those, please.”

“Yes, Master. Is there anything you’d prefer tonight?”

Hm. They seemed to like direction, and giving them a solid lead would probably be kinder than forcing them to think for themselves and worry about what he did or didn’t like. But at the same time, he had no idea what his aunt kept stocked.

“How about pasta with white sauce?” he suggested. Open ended, basic ingredients that they were pretty much guaranteed to have, and easy to make. And relatively quick; he was hungry.

“As you wish, Master.”

“Cool. I’m gonna start going through my aunt’s stuff. Lemme know when it’s ready.”

Galo left the den with a “Yes Master” chasing his heels, and rubbed at the back of his neck. Goddamn, these people were not having a great time. But that was okay. Galo was confident he could help.

Next

[scxrs-will-fade]

After shutting herself into the art room of Tenko’s enormous home, Angie was hard at work on her latest project. A doll with button eyes, sewn to perfection, with the cutest red hair and witch hat, all for her fellow mastermind friend. Angie felt in debt to Tenko. Being so welcoming when everyone else had left her behind. Even if Tenko planned to try and indoctrinate Angie, she didn’t particularly care. She just... couldn’t be alone. Not like she felt on her island. Not after all that she went through in the name of their god. Atua. She never wanted to feel anywhere near how she felt in those days.

The artist set her supplies down, and stretched her arms up high. Angie thought well to take a nap and regain her inspiration. The artist trudged to the room made for her specifically with her doll in hand. She needed to hide it from Tenko for it to be a surprise!

Angie laid down in bed, snuggling the soft blanket and her wolf plush for comfort. It didn’t take long for sleep to take over her body, whisking her away into a land of vivid colors and shapes. Her dream realm. The only place where the pains of reality left her behind.

Most of the time.

“Angelina.”

“........ Leave Angie alone. You aren’t real.”

“Angelina, you are aware of my existence. You are the only one who can hear me. Why do you keep shutting me out?”

“Angie doesn’t know who you are.” She hissed. “You speak like you have been trying to reach her for ages! But it has only since Angie’s defeat that she has heard you. Who are you?”

“Has it really been so long that you do not recognize my voice...?”

“That isn’t an answer to Angie’s question. She asked for a name. Who are you?”

“......... Atua. Angelina, I am your god.”

“...” Angie fell silent. “.... No. You are not. Angie... she...” The reality of the situation sunk into her body, and the truth hurt more than anything else. She had to come to terms with her lie, now that it was staring her in the face. “..... Angie has not heard your voice, since...”

“I know. I know, Angelina. Calm yourself, please.” The voice assured, sensing that Angie was close to tears.

“Y-You left me...” Angie cried. “You abandoned Angie. W-Why..?”

“I was never truly gone. After your traumatic experience, you lost sight of me. You lost sight of your faith. Therefore, you could no longer hear me. But... I never truly left your side. I was always there. Even in your worst hours.”

“Of course Angie lost her faith! H-How could she not!?” Angie asked through sobs. “You.. You allowed my father and those of my land to... humiliate me. In your name. They claimed it was your will. How could Angie e-ever love a god who does that to her!?”

“Angelina.... that was not-“

“Y-You weren’t there! You weren’t there for me when I needed you most! How could you do that to me!? After I gave my life for you!” Angie yelled, fuming and yet crying.

The voice said nothing for a moment as Angie curled into herself and hugged her own frame. The artist shook with grief. Finally, all of her cards were on the table. She had lost faith in Atua years ago. She only used him as an excuse for her evil actions, because she saw him as evil herself. Things could’ve been different, but it’s useless to imagine the possible positive outcomes of her life. What good would it do, but make her cry harder?

Angie felt a warm presence surround her. Like a blanket draped over top of her head, or a warm breeze after the winter season. Or... a hug.

“That was not my will, Angelina.” The voice said firmly. “Your father lost my voice years ago as well. He was not the prophet any longer. You were. Even then, he sought out to soil you too. He ruined every plan I had. He shut me out, and in turn, he forced you to shut me out as well. He forced you to become what he is, Angelina. A monster.”

Angie sniffled, feeling awful that she couldn’t hug the omnipotent being back, only feel his presence. “... Angie is a monster..? She never.. wanted to be one...”

“No one does. The world gives them reasons to become one. Whether they cave to those reasons is up to them. I’m sorry you fell into that trap, Angelina. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you sooner.”

“Save me..?” Angie asked slowly.

“Yes. I am not going to leave your side again, Angelina. There was an opening in your heart the day you failed your mission of despair. I took my chance, and sought you out once again. To right what has been wronged.” The warmth pulled away from Angie as her tears began to dry. “I am offering you redemption.”

“Redemption? Does Angie... really deserve that? How will she..? How will I achieve this?”

“It will take time, patience, effort, pain, and a strong will. Luckily for you, Angelina, you have what it takes to move forward. You can look back, you can reflect on the past, but do not let it dictate your actions today. You can be better.”

“Will.... Will Angie be forgiven for her grievances?”

“... I can not guarantee forgiveness from all. The road to redemption will be hard. You will relapse, you will apologize many times, and you will grow from it. But, I can guarantee a happier life for you, Angelina. With me by your side. Forever.”

Angie felt her spirit lighten. Her anxiety for the future felt almost nonexistent any longer. Like she was as a child. Like she hoped to be in the future. No longer stuck in the past, but the present. “What.... what should Angie do first, Atua?”

“Take down your mask. Become who you want to be, not who you were forced to become. That is your first step forward, my child.” The dream shuddered into static, and Angie looked around frantically. “You will do wonderful things, Angelina. Believe in yourself. Believe in me.”

Angie jolted up out of her sleep, head fuzzy and body feeling lighter than air itself. The artist jumped out of bed, bounding towards the mirror in her small personal bathroom. She looked at herself. She saw herself.

Take down your mask.

Angie knew what she needed to do. Though, the process would be long, good things are never easy, huh?