#but there are people who are so kind and when i speak to them i get to exist shamelessly again for just one beautiful moment

[lilacstro]

★ruler of 3rd through houses: your highschool years★

long time no see!! I have recently started an instagram account, you can check it out if you please. I would post more exclusive things in the soon to be started group on Instagram :) lmk if you are sending a request since I do not want scammers or people with malicious intents on there :)

Send post suggestions if you like !! I really do not know why have I not started with Vedic astrology series yet but the thing is, I find it soooo vast that putting it into readable posts becomes so hard idk and I can't come up with topics. I wanted to start with dasha systems and divisional charts but I could not fathom where to start honestly idk. Maybe I have gone more used to making posts through the tropical system.

Paid readings open!!

Today we will see your highschool years through astrology and this may explain why you *were* or *are* a certain way. The planets in your 3rd do add an extra infulence without doubt, but to keep this post more inclusive I would not go over that. However, lmk if you want to see that and I may edit this post. PS: Though there can indicators of things like bullying and being bullied and all other that kinda stuff, I wont be mentioning that here :)) take it as a light post :) and if someone has incidents from school they would love to write, would love it too!!

☆Ruler of 3rd in 1st: Ah very likely to be the "popular" kid, or someone I may say who was heavily involved and present in school. Maybe school was big on playing a major role to your personality development and you had some life altering events in school. You could have drawn attention to yourself as well, or maybe you wanted to be seen. Very easily could have taken the roles of monitors and club leaders etc.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 2nd: Very possible that you were the kind of person who was not very withdrawn yet not quite present. Maybe you were quite reserved in who you talked to during school, but not that you were a loner. You could very well be someone who people found talented in some specific area, especially in things like debate or arts and singing. People could have secretly wanted to befriend you. Very possible that you "seemed" rich or were focused on earning money and it showed in school. Often seen people could admire you from afar, or maybe even crush on you and all that stuff.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 3rd: School could have been an important for you again. Very possible that you and your siblings went to the same school. Apart from this, you again could be someone who is rather smart and studious or is considered smart at the very least. Could have been really outgoing and talkative. Now it is indeed 200% possible that you could be introverted, but as you could grow in comfort, you could become someone who would speak and get along with most people.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 4th: Could have been homeschooled or maybe even your mother taught at the same school, or maybe you did not change too many schools as such and even possible that you studied in a place where you were born or near your home. Now, the ruling planet here actually decides how you could have acted here, which is usually a mix of both extrovertedness and introvertedness. It is possible that school was either very comfortable to you, or maybe you never felt comfortable in school at all, no in between. Not a big friend group, but probably a few real friends that you could have connected to even after school.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 5th: Could be someone who was very involved in extra curriculars and stuff. Great possibility of having dated people in school or appearing attractive to others, them having crushes on you or maybe both honestly. You could actually be someone who very well flunked or I may say rather did not take their classes as seriously. Could be someone who people reminisce about when they look back to their time in high school. A good possibility of being popular or seemingly charming! You could have enjoyed your time in school.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 6th: You could very well be someone who probably faced some difficulties to attend school I feel. Apart from this, you could be someone who no matter what they really do, are hardworking and took school seriously. Hard working, reliable kind of person. It is possible that people in your school asked you for help or favors and stuff quite often. Very possible to have had a mundane school life for many many reasons, maybe nothing too "exciting" and maybe school really did not cater too much excitement, stories or spice in your life.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 7th: The kind of person who talks to everyone, or atleast "knows" everyone and vice versa. People could often come up to you, and you could strike conversations just like that. The kind of person who would always be found in some kind of friend group, and friends with everyone, a large friend group. Some of you could even have found your spouse from school!! No matter if you were extroverted or introverted, you could have had good social skills regardless. Your teachers could actually know you or like you.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 8th: Could be someone who saw breaks and interruptions and hardships to have continues their education. Aloof, introverted and maybe a desire to hide, and not really be seen. The people who are wise beyond their age in school and try to avoid people, especially the ones who do not align with them truly. To be honest, your flairs and attitude and experience in and towards school could see a lot of shifts, maybe you were extroverted and then you became introverted and then extroverted again. Maybe you were someone who had no friends but then had too many friends etc. The end time of school could be important. Not hanging out in big groups at being by yourself mostly.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 9th: Could be someone who attended high school abroad or exchange programs etc or desired to go to college abroad. Probably very aware and serious about moving to university after school. Good at studying and smart, even if you may not intentionally spend time studying, you could be very very good at acing your school comparatively. Someone who was wise, and friendly and had a pleasant time in school, and a good and happy learning experience overall. Friendly, and could have had different kind of friends I must say.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 10th: Ah, outgoing people. Someone who is seen and known by people in school, well liked by most. Even if you are introverted as such, which is unlikely, people could notice you and maybe heard about you or seen you atleast once sometime. Could be someone who hangs out in big groups. Someone whose presence is known by most and many people in school for whatever reasons that may be. Popular people. Teachers could be important, maybe they noticed you, or maybe you pay great attention to them or the relationship is sour all together. The kind of people who are assigned roles and leads in clubs and events, etc. despite of not being the responsible person for that job.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 11th: Friends were important and you made quite a few friends in school yourself. Even if you were not a social person, you still could have found friends, and friend groups. People could feel easy around you, someone who is non judgemental and is friends with everyone, even the seemingly new kids. Always busy with some kind of event or activity or hanging out with friends probably even after school. Someone who probably made others aware about the drama and tea going on, or discussing internet, controversies etc.

☆Ruler of 3rd in 12th: Very possible that you completed your education overseas or you were homeschooled or may be you did not attend school too much. Someone who probably is uncomfortable with attention on themselves, and likes to seemingly merge into the background somehow, even if they may desire to have a complete experience of their surroundings. Zoning out in school often, being aloof by nature or choice, in your own world. Probably despising school or waiting for it to end. On a good note, whatever relationships you formed in school or experiences you had, could have helped you evolve, and grow out of your comfort zone and the bubble you could have kept yourself in, for maybe reasons like "I can't fit in".

take care, xoxo~

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Gojo and Geto with bad bitch Chubby Reader

Guys, I tried to avoid being a Gojo stan...I tried so hard to hate him...but the pull was too strong. He got my ass. He's too silly. He's too cute the little shit. He's too perfect. Geto's great too before he lost his shit and went psycho the two are just too great to pass up.

2024 WILL BE THE YEAR THAT I GET YOU BITCHES TO PREACH STRONG, CONFIDENT, INDEPENDENT but not too independent bc these men are still yummy af CHUBBY READER! No longer will I be insecure about my weight because these men LOVE to see me coming AND going, I can tell you that.

WARNING: Fatphobia (happens when first meeting Gojo & Geto—they’re teens trying to bully Reader, but she handles herself because they’re idiots), A little angst with the small amount of bullying but I hope I made up for it, Cursing

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Imagine you, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko being classmates and friends during their schooling at Jujutsu High. All of you are powerful threats not to be taken lightly. The boys were undoubtedly freaks of nature with how strong they were—though, you had doubled over laughing alongside Shoko a couple of times when you heard them deem themselves "the strongest duo", as if they were some cool loner wolf types. Shoko was a master in the medicinal field; she made any injury look like a breeze to clean. She'd stitch them up no problem with her cursed energy and send them merrily on their way with a swift kick to their backside.

You definitely have more proficiency with cursed energy usage for combat more so than healing, but you could manage healing yourself just fine. You’d been born into a clan, not as highly revered as the Zenin or Gojo clans but still notable, so you’ve been taught from an early age how to wield cursed energy. Sacrificing yourself for the greater good of the world has been drilled into your head since birth, and you agreed with it. The world’s innocence needs to be protected from the cursed dangers life creates. Sure, there are bad people in the world, but the good people make life worth living. At least, that’s what you choose to believe.

While you’re just a normal—aside from the slight infinite power and jaw-dropping strength—girl, you are different in one more physical way. You’re chubbier than most, and not by a small bit.

Are you insecure about it?

Hell fucking no!

You’re a bad bitch. Fantastic face, banging body, stunning smile, bright eyes, a kind but strong heart, and even a cute butt to top it off. You knew this world inside out with how cruel it could be to plus sized folk, and while you took the beating for far too long without fighting back, you took a couple of steps back a few years ago to look at the situation. Why let people push you around like you didn’t matter? Why let them speak to you like you’re lesser than them simply because you weigh more? You were done being talked to like you were filth underneath their boots.

Since that new perspective, you’ve chosen the road of self love and hands rated E for everyone. You’re kind and sweet to those who reciprocate the respect. To those who try you, you beat their asses with a smile. “Education on Human Decency” is what you’ve begun to call the smackdowns since many want to try casting judgment in snide remarks or sneering looks. They can try these hands instead :)

That’s where Jujutsu High and the headaches you know as Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru fit into this philosophy of yours.

You were homeschooled by your clan in the first year of your sorcery high school. Though, after much begging for a change of scenery and yearning for social interactions other than your family and neighbors, they allowed you to go to a high school centered on jujutsu sorcery the next school year.

When you started Jujutsu High in your second year, that is where you met Shoko, Gojo, and Geto, your classmates. The first thought to cross your mind was how small this crowd was. Sure, it wasn’t like the classes you’ve had before had many students in them either; the world of curses and cursed energy wasn’t exactly a booming population to start with, especially when every year is the same class roster composed of the few brothers and sisters you had. Considering that, three new faces was much better than before! You introduced yourself with a joyful tone and an eager handshake.

You started with Shoko since she was the only other girl. You’re glad you did. Shoko, who you originally thought would be tricky to get along with since she gave off “rebel” vibes with that unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and you were nothing of the sort, held a grin and took your handshake with grace. She told you she liked your spunk, that it was nice to be around another girl rather than more stinking boys. You agreed with her with a relieved sigh. You two shared a laugh and chatted some more, each of you discussing your thoughts of the school and figuring out your mutual interests.

Soon enough, you were interrupted by someone giving a very noticeable and forced cough behind you. You turned and were met with two boys, one with jet black hair and a sly grin and the other one with silvery moonlight colored strands sharing the same expression hidden behind circular sunglasses. The white haired boy was leaning heavily on the black haired boy with one arm propped on his shoulder as the black-haired boy crossed his arms in front of himself. Seems like the two are close. No matter.

You stuck your hand out, another smile—admittedly, this one was a little more forced than the one you shared with Shoko—and gave your name. Suguru was the first to bite. He grabbed your hand with a smooth, warm grip, and exchanged his name. His shake felt sincere, though the cunning smirk still laid on his lips.

You tried to shake the other boy’s hand after letting Suguru go, but he decided otherwise. He swiftly with no mercy said he wasn’t going to shake hands with the likes of “you”. You raised an eyebrow, already sensing the insult he would try to hurl at you. One thing bullies are is predictable. None of them have any creative bone in their body, they’re like leeches, in a way. Mooching off other clever remarks they’ve heard used before through the Internet or their idiot friends. Though, they alway reproduce it much shitter than the first time they heard it.

He leaned in with a smile and yapped about how if he touches you, some of your fat might rub off on him. Gojo tries to drag Geto into bullying you too by shamelessly asking if Geto is worried that will happen to him now that he’s so brazenly touched you. As much as you wanted Suguru to be his own person, to be better than the loser clinging to him like a koala, he chimed in that while Gojo’s afraid of that, that that could never happen to him. He sneered while looking down at you that he actually has the discipline to keep the weight off. The two of them share an evil snicker together.

Oh, so that’s how they wanna play it.

Okay. You don’t mind showing a bitch their place.

As Shoko pipes up and tells them to shut the hell up, you stop her. You give her a kind smile that says “I love you, but please back the fuck up as I rock these bitches world”. Her eyebrows jump up in surprise, but she gives you a nod. She quiets down.

You choose to laugh with them. They slowly shut their mouths, finding laughing at you not that funny when you don’t crumple under their taunts like they’d expected. You then explain to them that what you find so funny is that punks like them are so easy to read and, subsequently, ruin. You told them they need to find better insults to steal if they wanna cackle like they’re some kind of drunk hyenas and, unless they get more creative, they’re not worth the air they take from others. You turned to walk away, but since you just couldn’t help yourself, you gave the both of them a swift kick to the chest. Unprepared for the action, they both were sent careening back, but remained standing. You also snarkily nagged that being “undisciplined in weight loss” gave you the extra weight to knock their scrawny asses back that far.

Shoko gave you a hearty high five while laughing at them getting what they deserve. Gojo, though baffled at your defiance, is ready to start throwing punches, as he spews half-assed insults left and right. Geto manages to keep his thoughts to himself, but you do note his expression has definitely become sour. This little scrap is swiftly interrupted by your new teacher, Masamichi Yaga, when he enters and orders the class to settle down. He also snuffs Gojo’s babbling tantrum with a merciless smack to his forehead.

You give a small grin stuck your tongue out at the two when Mr. Masamichi turned his back. From then on, it was war.

You, Geto, and Gojo fought constantly in the beginning

When they (mostly Gojo now) tried to stir shit with you, you’d fling their rudeness right back at them

Whether they tried to pick on your weight, or cheery personality, or strength (which they couldn’t make too much fun off since you were only a little less strong than they were, but so was everyone else compared to their insane powers), you were always ready to kick their asses

You didn’t resent them for their teasing, mostly since you had a good head on your shoulders and you know that Gojo’s only deflecting all the shit he hates about himself onto other people, but they sure got on your nerves sometimes

So, you decided soon into your acquaintance with these dopes that instead of simply beating their asses every time they said some wack shit and never correcting the behavior, you’re going put an end to their bullying of based on others appearances

Because, who knows. You have enough self love and confidence to defend yourself against their rude remarks, but not everyone does. What happens if they target other plus sized people who maybe can’t or won’t defend themselves?

So, when they’d try to make fun of you, you’d correct them with sincerity and help them understand why that would hurt to someone

Geto pretty much never made a passing comment like that again towards you. You’re happy to see that change in him

Gojo huffed and puffed after what he called “your lecture”, but you also saw change in him

After that, it was slow progress to all be friends

Shoko and you were doing great! Hanging out outside of school, dragging her along with you to do some window shopping, eating a sit down lunch together, going to the nearest bookstore, grabbing a yummy sweet treat, stargazing—you did it all together!

She always made a fuss that she had “no interest” in what you would force her to do, but you could secretly tell she liked doing girly stuff together. As long as she could have a smoke break in between these hang outs, she was all good

The first time you, Geto, and Gojo made a recovery in your rocky relationship was when they asked if they could come along with the two of you to get a treat together

You were a bit hesitant to share the thing that brings you joy with the two people who tried to make you the butt of the joke, but you threw them bone and agreed

You four walked down the sidewalk, mostly you chit chatting with Shoko, when Gojo butted his way into the conversation at your mention of Kikufuku.

You and him bonded over your mutual love of the delicate, bouncy sweet treat and you watched as his eyes sparkled like a little kid when you said the place you were going to had an excellent Kikufuku

You know, when Gojo isn’t being a menace, he’s actually nice to share a conversation with

Geto teased Gojo for his astounding sweet tooth, and explained to you an embarrassing story of Gojo losing his mind one time when a dog stole one of his dorayaki treats and ran off

You laughed as Gojo tried to hit Geto as payback for sharing the “secret” but Geto fended off his flailing

Maybe I'll come back to this idea one day when I'm not hung up on the bullying. If you guys like this idea, I might continue it with less bullying. I am a baby when it comes to angst lol. I really do love these boys, I just don't think my heart is ready for the subject matter I wrote.

✧༺♥༻✧

[brunchable]

Captivate Me | Stalker!Bucky Barnes x f!reader. [R 18+]

Word count: 23.6K (oops) Pairings: Obsessed Bucky Barnes x Movie Star Reader. Summary: You've been seeing Bucky for a while. You thought meeting him was pure fate but little did you know every single detail was premeditated. Trying to end things with him would be the greatest mistake of your life. Themes/Warning: SMUT OVER 18s ONLY. Dark Romance, slow-burn STALKING, KIDNAPPING, A LOT OF MANHANDLING *DUBCON?* BDSM (Blindfolded, Bed Restraints), Daddy Kink, Masturbation (M), Filming during sex, domineering acts, degradation, praising, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral (M+F), overstimulation, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampied. A/N: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK ROMANCE. It is giving Joe Goldberg. Also Bucky speaks Romanian here, I used google translate. Please don't come at me.

A/N: AGAIN IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK ROMANCE, MOVE ON.

I’ve seen you in a thousand different ways, in a thousand different roles, but none of them—none of them—compared to the real thing. You, walking out of that boutique gym, wiping sweat from your forehead like it wasn’t some holy ritual. You didn’t know I was watching. You never do. That’s the thing about being the most famous actress in Hollywood, isn’t it? People only see the surface, the glitter. The carefully curated perfection. But not me. I see the real you. The one behind all that.

When I first saw you, it wasn’t planned. Not exactly. I mean, I knew I’d see you eventually. I made sure of it. The gym, the coffee shop, your early morning run route that you think is private. I don’t leave things to chance. I orchestrate them. And you—oh, you walked right into my world, didn’t you?

You smiled that smile, the one that makes directors fall to their knees for a chance to cast you. But when you smiled at me, it felt different. Real. Like we were speaking a language only we understood.

It wasn’t hard to make you like me. It never is. I’ve done my homework. I know what you need, what you crave. Stability. Someone who gets it, gets you, in a way that all the shallow, empty faces in your world never will. I became that someone for you, carefully crafting each word, each look, until you were hooked.

It’s funny, the little things you let slip. You think you’re so careful, but I see it. The way your shoulders relax when I talk about my “well-paying job,” when I drop hints about my “family's” holiday home. You like that, don’t you? You like that I’m different from the men who chase you for clout or connections. No, I’m something else. 

You didn’t realize I’d planned our first date down to the minute, did you? Or the second, and the third. You thought it was all so natural. You thought it was just happening. Like we were meant to meet, to be together, to be something special. That’s the thing about fate, though—it’s just another tool. And I wield it perfectly.

It didn’t take long for you to fall for me, just like I knew you would. After all, I’m everything you need. Smart, kind, successful—or at least, that’s what you think. I’m whatever you need me to be. So when I suggested a weekend away at my “holiday” home, you said yes. Hesitant, but yes. You must’ve thought it would be a nice escape. Just us, away from the world that always wants something from you.

Except, you didn’t know it wasn’t an escape at all. It was a step closer to where we were always meant to end up.

That’s what I kept telling myself as we stood in the kitchen of that house, the rain drumming softly against the windows. I poured you a glass of wine, said something about how perfect it all felt, about how right we were together. And you—you just stood there, silent, your eyes distant. Something had shifted.

Then you spoke.

“Bucky,” you said, and my heart stopped because I already knew what was coming. “This is going too fast.”

The words hung in the air like poison. I felt my pulse in my throat, the warmth of the kitchen suddenly stifling.

“I don’t think I see a future with us,” you continued, and each word was a dagger. You tried to soften the blow with that sweet voice of yours, telling me I’m a “great guy,” that it’s “nothing personal.” Nothing personal? How could it not be personal? 

You know, I’ve always been good at controlling myself. That’s one of the things you liked about me, isn’t it? How I’m always so calm, so collected. You don’t want the chaos, the mess of Hollywood drama in your real life. No, you want stability, something solid, someone who can be your anchor in the storm of flashing lights and fake smiles.

And I gave you that. I am that. I’ve been perfect for you—perfect in every way.

So why—why are you standing here, telling me that it’s going “too fast”?

The words echoed in my head, making it hard to focus. You kept talking, kept explaining, but it was like I couldn’t hear you anymore. My mind was racing, my chest tightening with something dark, something unfamiliar. 

No, no, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say it’s too fast when I’ve been so patient, so careful.

You have no idea how long I’ve waited, how meticulously I’ve crafted every single moment between us. Every word, every smile, every touch. This is what we’re supposed to be. You can’t just walk away from that. You can’t just throw it away.

I could feel it bubbling up inside me, the rage, the frustration. It started small, like a flicker of heat behind my eyes, but it was growing, spreading, filling me with something raw and dangerous. I tried to keep it in check, tried to swallow it down. I didn’t want to scare you. That’s not what this was about. This was supposed to be perfect.

But you kept talking, kept saying things that made it worse. Words like “future,” like “great guy,” like “nothing personal.”

Nothing personal? Again.

How dare you? How dare you make it sound like I’m just another guy, like I didn’t plan every single moment of our time together? You think this isn’t personal? You think I’m just going to let you go like all the others? No.

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to hold it in, trying not to let you see what you were doing to me. But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t shut up. And then you said it—that one final thing that broke me.

“I just don’t feel the same way.”

There it was. The truth, out in the open, sharp and jagged like broken glass. And something inside me snapped. I could feel it, like a wire pulled too tight finally giving way. My pulse thundered in my ears, my breathing shallow and ragged. You didn’t get it. You didn’t see how much I’d done for us, how much I’d sacrificed. You didn’t understand how perfect we could be if you just—just—

I slammed my hand down on the counter next to you, the sound slicing through the air like a gunshot. You jumped, startled, your eyes wide with fear as you flinched, taking a step back from me.

And that—oh, that—was new.

Fear. Real, genuine fear appeared in your eyes like you were finally seeing me for the first time. I should’ve hated it. I should’ve backed off, apologised, done something to make it go away.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Because part of me—some dark, twisted part of me—liked it. I liked that you were finally seeing me. The real me. Not the carefully crafted version I’d shown you before, but the one who needed you, the one who couldn’t stand the idea of losing you.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re scaring me.”

I blinked, the words cutting through the fog of anger, but they didn’t have the effect you wanted. Scaring you? No. No, you’re not scared of me. You’re scared of losing control, scared of what it means to be with someone like me, someone who actually cares enough to make sure you stay.

But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I watched you take another step back, your hands trembling slightly, your eyes darting to the door like you were planning to run.

I watched the fear ripple through you, your breathing quickening, your eyes scanning the room like you were calculating the distance to the door. Like you thought you could just run. Like you actually thought you could escape me.

But you can’t.

No, we’ve come too far for that.

I took a step toward you, slow and measured, watching the way you flinched, the way your body tensed like a deer ready to bolt. I didn’t want to hurt you—I didn’t. But you were leaving me no choice. You were making this hard, when it didn’t have to be. I didn’t want it to be this way.

“Bucky…” Your voice was small, fragile. You were trying to reason with me, but it was too late for that. Too late for words. The world outside, the life we had before stepping into this house, it was all fading away. It was just us now, just the truth between us, raw and unfiltered.

“You don’t understand,” I said, my voice low, my hand still pressed firmly against the counter. I could feel the cool granite beneath my palm, grounding me, barely holding back the storm inside. “This is right. We are right for each other. You just… you just don’t see it yet.”

Your eyes darted toward the door again, that brief flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could get away. I could see it in the way your muscles tensed, in the way your feet shifted like you were getting ready to run. And I hated it—hated that you still didn’t understand.

I moved faster than you expected, my hand reaching out to grab your arm before you could make a break for it. You gasped, your eyes wide with terror as I pulled you back, your body colliding with mine. You struggled, kicking, twisting, trying to break free, but I was stronger. I’d always been stronger.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, your voice shrill, panicked. But I didn’t let go. I couldn’t.

You don’t get it. You can’t leave. 

“Stop fighting,” I growled, pulling you closer, your back pressed against my chest. I could feel your heart hammering beneath your skin, the rapid rise and fall of your breath. You were terrified, and part of me—some dark, primal part of me—thrived on that fear. But another part of me hated it. I didn’t want you to be afraid. I wanted you to see that I was doing this for us.

“Please, Bucky… you’re hurting me.”

Those words. They cut through the fog of anger, piercing something deep inside me. My grip loosened for just a second, just long enough for you to break free, to twist out of my hold and make a desperate run for the door.

And you did it.

You yanked the door open, sprinting out into the rain like your life depended on it. You were fast, I’ll give you that.

Desperation makes people faster. 

Your bare feet slapped against the wet pavement, splashing through puddles as you made your way to the car. You thought you were getting away. You thought you were winning.

I followed, just a few paces behind. I let you think you had a chance. Let you scramble to the driver’s side door, your hands shaking as you fumbled with the handle. You were soaked, the rain plastering your hair to your face, but you didn’t stop. You threw open the door, slipping into the car, your fingers trembling as you searched for the keys.

But I was there. Right behind you. And you didn’t have the keys, did you?

“Bucky, please!” you screamed, your voice high and panicked, but it didn’t matter. I yanked the door open before you could lock it, my hand reaching in and grabbing your arm with a force that made you cry out.

You kicked. You screamed. Your nails clawed at my hand, your legs thrashing as I dragged you out of the car, but you weren’t strong enough. You were never going to be strong enough.

“No!” you shrieked, your voice cracking as I hauled you back toward the house, the rain pouring down around us. You fought me every step of the way, your feet slipping in the mud, your body twisting, trying to break free.

But I didn’t let go.

I couldn’t.

“You’re not leaving,” I growled, my voice barely audible over the storm, my grip tightening as I dragged you back inside. Your body was limp now, weak from the struggle, but your eyes—oh, your eyes were still filled with that same fear.

We’re not done. We’re never going to be done.

Not until you see it.

Not until you see me.

× × × ×

Your POV

You wake slowly, your head throbbing, the world around you blurry and disorienting. The sound of the storm outside reaches you first, the rumble of thunder vibrating through the walls, the rain pounding relentlessly against the windows. You blink, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The sheets beneath you are soft—too soft—and they smell like detergent, unfamiliar.

That’s when you feel it. The cold metal around your wrists.

Panic surges through your veins as you jerk upright, or at least, you try to. Your hands are cuffed to the bed, the harsh clink of metal echoing in the dimly lit room as you struggle against them. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear hitting you like a wave, choking you as you realize—this isn’t a nightmare.

Your breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, your chest heaving as you take in the room. It’s dim, lit only by the soft, flickering glow of a bedside lamp, the corners of the room swallowed by shadows. You’re not in the same clothes you remember. You’re dressed in something clean now, something soft, but it’s not your own. Someone…he changed you.

And then you see him.

Bucky.

He’s sitting in the corner, hidden in the shadows, watching you. His silhouette is dark, unmoving, and it sends a chill down your spine. The storm outside feels like a reflection of the chaos inside your head, the way everything is spinning, nothing making sense.

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and when you finally manage to choke out his name, it sounds small, pitiful. 

“Bucky?”

He doesn’t respond. He just keeps watching, like a predator studying its prey. Like he’s waiting for you to say or do something, but you don’t know what. Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might burst out of your chest. The fear grips you tighter with every second that passes, the realization of your situation crashing down on you like the thunder outside.

“I… I don’t understand.” Your voice is trembling, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you tug helplessly at the cuffs, the metal biting into your skin. “Why are you doing this? Let me go, please.”

Still, he says nothing. The silence stretches on, oppressive, suffocating. You can feel his eyes on you, piercing through the darkness, and it makes your skin crawl. 

You don’t recognize this man, not anymore. The Bucky you thought you knew, the one who smiled at you over dinner, the one who laughed at your jokes, who held your hand… that Bucky is gone. Or maybe he was never real to begin with.

“You’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the tears finally spill over, sliding down your cheeks. “Please, just let me go. I won’t— I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I just want to leave.”

His figure shifts slightly in the chair, the movement so subtle you almost miss it, but it feels like a thunderclap in the tense stillness of the room. Finally, he speaks, his voice low, dark, carrying with it an edge of something you don’t want to name.

“You need to stop thinking of escape,” he says, his words measured. “I’m not your enemy, I’m the one saving you. And one day, you’ll understand that.”

Your stomach drops. There’s something final in the way he says it, something that makes you realize there’s no reasoning with him. No escape.

You’re trapped.

A sob escapes your lips, your body shaking as you pull at the cuffs again, but it’s no use. The storm outside rages on, the wind howling like some terrible omen, and you can’t help but wonder if anyone—anyone at all—can hear you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as Bucky stands up from the chair, his silhouette dark against the dim light. His movements are slow, and you can’t tear your eyes away from him as he steps out of the shadows. Something glints in his hand, and when he comes closer, you see it.

Your phone.

He’s holding your phone.

Bucky twirls it in his hand like it’s some casual toy, but the sight of it makes your stomach churn. He tilts his head slightly, his gaze fixed on you, and a slow smile spreads across his lips—not the warm, charming smile you once knew, but something colder, calculated.

He takes a step closer, then another, until he’s standing right next to the bed. His presence looms over you, the phone still in his hand as he looks down at you, handcuffed and helpless.

“So,” he says, his voice smooth, unsettlingly calm. “What should you post tonight? Hm?”

You stare at him, your mind racing, trying to make sense of the words. Post? He can't be serious. He wouldn’t—

Bucky’s eyes flicker down to the screen, and with a swipe of his thumb, the display lights up. “You wouldn’t want people to think you’ve gone missing, would you? That might cause a… panic.” He smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

Your throat tightens, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to spill over again. You shake your head, more in disbelief than as an answer. He’s playing with you, toying with the very thing that connects you to the world outside this nightmare. And the way he’s handling your phone, so casually, makes it clear—he’s already thought this through.

“Maybe a picture of your feet by the fire?” he muses, tilting his head as if he’s considering the best angle. “Or better yet, one of those ‘cozy night in’ captions. That’ll sell it. Everyone will think you’re just relaxing after a long day. Just another night for Hollywood’s sweetheart.”

His words send ice through your veins. He’s already planned it all out, how to keep up the illusion that you’re fine, that nothing’s wrong. No one will even suspect you’re missing. No one will come looking for you.

You try to speak, to find words, but your voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper. “Please, Bucky, don’t—”

But he ignores your plea, his eyes focused on your phone as he pulls up your social media app. “Smile,” he says mockingly, as though you’re some doll he can dress up for show. “Or don’t. I can manage this on my own. I’ve been watching you for long enough to know exactly what your fans want.”

You feel the tears slip down your cheeks, helplessness gripping you as he takes control of your life in the most terrifying way possible. The world outside keeps spinning, oblivious to the fact that you’re trapped in this nightmare, and he’s holding the one lifeline that could save you, dangling it just out of reach.

“Don’t worry,” he continues, his voice a twisted mockery of comfort. “I’ll keep everyone updated. No one will know anything’s wrong. Not until you’ve had time to understand why you’re really here.”

And as he taps away at your phone, the storm rages on outside, but inside this room, it’s the calm before the real storm—the one you know is coming but can’t escape.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV 

The thing about phones—your phone, to be specific—is that they’re intimate. More intimate than a diary, more personal than any conversation you’ve ever had. Every swipe, every message, every like, is a little breadcrumb leading back to the real you. The parts you don’t share with the world. And here I am, with your phone in my hand, holding every piece of you in the palm of mine.

I can feel your eyes on me as I scroll through it, your fear practically radiating off you in waves. But I ignore it. I’ve already moved past that phase, the part where I worry about what you’re thinking. You’ll come around eventually, once you see that I’m doing this for us.

For you.

The soft glow of your screen illuminates my face as I unlock it easily—your passcode was one of the first things I learned about you. A four-digit combination, barely a barrier, really. I swipe through your photos first, and there’s a strange comfort in seeing the world through your eyes. Pictures of sunsets, candid moments with co-stars, perfectly posed selfies for your millions of followers. Each photo carefully curated for the world. But I keep scrolling because I know that’s not all there is.

And then I see it. A photo you took of me.

It’s not staged, not some posed couple’s picture for social media. It’s real. I’m asleep—my head turned slightly to the side, my face peaceful, unaware. You took this when you thought I wasn’t watching. The corner of my mouth twitches up, and I can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. You couldn’t resist, could you? Even when you didn’t know it, you were drawn to me.

This proves it. We’re connected. Whether you want to admit it or not, you feel it, too. I wasn’t wrong.

I glance up from the phone, just for a moment, to see you watching me, your eyes wide, terrified. You have no idea how much I know, how deep inside your world I already am. I almost want to say something, to tell you how this photo means something. How it confirms that we’re meant to be. But I stay silent, letting the moment stretch between us, savouring it.

I keep scrolling. And that’s when I find them.

The unsolicited photos.

You thought you were careful, that you’d buried them in your messages. But nothing stays hidden from me. A flood of messages from random men—pathetic, desperate attempts to get your attention. Men sending you things you never asked for. 

Filth. 

Unworthy of even a glance from you. The sheer arrogance of it, the entitlement, makes my blood simmer. How many of these men thought they had a chance with you? That they could own a piece of you like I do?

One particular message stands out. A man whose name I don’t recognize, someone you’ve never mentioned. He’s sent you photos of himself, explicit, disgusting. And you—you didn’t block him. You didn’t stop it.

I stare at the messages longer than I should, the jealousy curling tight inside my chest, sharp and poisonous. These men, they think they can have you, that they can come into your life with their disgusting offers and expect something in return. You might not have invited them in, but the fact that they’re here at all makes me sick.

You should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me to take care of this for you.

I glance back at you, still handcuffed to the bed, tears slipping down your cheeks, and I wonder if you even understand what’s happening here. These men, they aren’t a part of your life anymore. I won’t allow it. You’re mine now. Completely. There won’t be anyone else.

I keep scrolling through your messages, and that’s when I find something else.

A text thread with your friends. The casual banter, the kind of stuff you think I don’t care about. But buried in there, a series of photos you sent them. I pause, my heart speeding up as I open them. 

It’s me, of course. 

One picture in particular stands out—a shot of me shirtless in the kitchen, cooking you breakfast. The light catches my body just right, every muscle defined. And your caption underneath?

“Okay, so you can’t see his face but look at this man. Just look at him.��

You wanted them to see me. To know what you had. You wanted them to be jealous. And they probably were. I smile to myself, imagining the envy your friends must have felt, knowing that you had me, knowing they couldn’t. It’s perfect. You knew I was perfect for you.

I scroll further down the thread, and that’s when I see the message that makes me pause, my breath catching in my throat.

“You guys, I swear to god… he’s so good in bed, I think I’m addicted. Like, I don’t even know how to describe it. I’m wrecked in the best ways.”

Addicted. Addicted to me. And you thought I wouldn’t know. You thought you could hide that, that you could pretend to push me away when deep down, you crave me. You need me.

I can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across my face as I look back at you. You’re trembling, still terrified, but you don’t understand that this—this fear, this desire—it’s all part of the same thing. You don’t have to run from it anymore. From me.

I scroll just a little further and see the final blow. Another photo. This time, it’s intimate. Private. A photo you snapped of me sleeping on top of you, my body nestled against yours, my head buried in the crook of your neck. The angle is careful, my face mostly obscured by my dark hair, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness in that moment. I can feel the warmth of it through the screen.

And then the message beneath it.

“Okay, don’t judge me, but… when Bucky speaks Romanian when we do it... it’s so hot. Like, I can’t even handle it. I don’t even want a kid but I'll carry his kids. Fuck. He’s so hot.”

I feel something inside me snap—not with anger, no, but with something far deeper. You want this. You want me. You’ve been telling your friends, letting them know how much you crave me, need me, even if you didn’t say it out loud to my face. But now? Now I know. And there’s no denying it anymore.

I set the phone down on the edge of the bed and lean closer, my voice low, calm, almost affectionate. “You know,” I murmur, “I never realized how much you needed me. But now I see it. Now, it all makes sense.”

You flinch, pulling back as far as you can, but there’s nowhere to go. Not from me.

“What should you post tonight, hm?” I ask, my tone conversational, like this is any normal evening between us. 

The horror in your eyes is enough to confirm it—you finally understand. You’re not going anywhere.

Because you’re mine. And no one—no one—is going to take you away from me.

× × × × 

I bring the dinner to you, carefully plated, as always. Presentation matters. Even now, when you’re too stubborn to appreciate it, too blinded by your own misplaced anger to see that this—this—is still me taking care of you. 

I set the tray on the bed beside you, the smell of the meal filling the room. You’ve always liked the way I cook, haven’t you? I remember how you used to smile, used to praise the smallest details, like I was doing something so special.

But now, you sit there with your jaw clenched, body stiff, refusing to look at me, refusing to even acknowledge that I’m here, still trying to make sure you’re okay.

“You’re going to eat,” I say softly, but there’s a firmness beneath the words. It’s not a request, not a suggestion. I’ve been patient with you—so patient. But you’re pushing me now, testing the limits of my control, and we both know that can only last so long.

You scoff, turning your head away from the food like a child throwing a tantrum. “I’m not your prisoner, Bucky. You can’t force me to do anything.”

The defiance. That familiar fire burning behind your eyes. I should be frustrated, I should be angry, but honestly? I find it... cute. You’re still trying to fight me, still clinging to the idea that you have some say in this. I lean closer, my hand resting gently on the bed beside you, my voice dropping just enough to let you know I’m not here to argue.

“You are going to eat,” I repeat, my tone calm but unyielding. “Because I’m not going to let you starve yourself.”

You snap your head back to me, your eyes flashing with rage, and for a second, I see the storm building in you. 

“You can’t make me,” you growl, and it’s almost laughable—the way you think you still have control, still have some semblance of power in this situation.

Then, without warning, you spit at me.

The action is so quick, so fueled by your desperation, that for a moment, I’m surprised. The spit lands on my cheek, sliding down slowly, almost in slow motion. And there it is. The fight. The fire. The part of you that still hasn’t fully surrendered.

You tense, your body going rigid, your breath caught in your throat as you wait for me to explode, for the rage to consume me and lash out. This is the part where you expect me to lose it. To become the monster you’ve built up in your head.

But I don’t.

I freeze for just a second, letting the anger stir inside me, feeling it twist and coil. But then, instead of reacting the way you expect, I chuckle. A low, quiet laugh, the sound barely audible over the storm outside. I don’t wipe the spit away. I just sit there, letting it cool on my cheek, my lips curling into a small, almost amused smile.

“I like this,” I murmur, my voice calm, disturbingly calm. “This fight in you. It’s… adorable.”

You flinch, recoiling slightly as you realize I’m not going to snap. I’m not going to lose control, because unlike you, I’m not driven by desperation. I don’t need to. No, I have all the control I need, right here, in this room, with you handcuffed to that bed. I can see it in your eyes—the confusion. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect me to remain calm.

I lean in just a bit closer, my face only inches from yours now, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You think you can push me, don’t you? That if you fight hard enough, I’ll lose control. But that’s not going to happen. You’re not going to break me. You can’t.”

You’re trembling now, the tears welling up in your eyes, but I don’t feel pity. No, this is something else entirely. This is... satisfaction. You want to fight, but you’re scared, too. And that mix? That’s what makes this so interesting.

I straighten up, slowly wiping the spit from my cheek with the back of my hand, my eyes never leaving yours. “Go ahead. Keep fighting. It doesn’t change anything. I’m still in control. You’ll still eat. You’ll still do what I say.”

Your lip quivers, but you remain silent, glaring at me with all the defiance you can muster. But I can see the cracks forming. I know that deep down, you understand.

“Now,” I say, standing up and moving back toward the corner of the room, watching you carefully. “When you’re ready to eat, the food will be here. And I’ll be right here, too. Always.”

I sit back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, my eyes never leaving you. You still think you can win this. But you can’t. You never could.

And the fact that you haven’t realized that yet? Well, that’s just adorable.

× × × × 

Your POV

The next day.

You wake up to the steady drum of rain against the window, still unrelenting, like the world is stuck in an endless loop of storm and shadow. The room is dim, gray light filtering in through the heavy clouds outside, casting long shadows that stretch across the floor. Something’s different, though. You blink slowly, trying to clear the haze of sleep.

Your wrists. They’re free.

No cuffs. No cold metal biting into your skin. You sit up cautiously, the blankets tucked around you. . . comfortably. Like some twisted lullaby, as if you’d been tucked in after drifting to sleep in the middle of a nightmare.

And the first thing you notice? Bucky isn’t here.

Your heart thuds in your chest, your body still stiff with the memory of yesterday, the taste of panic still lingering like bile in your throat. 

You scan the room carefully, trying not to make any sudden movements as if you might wake the predator lurking nearby.

The chair he always sits in—the one where he watches you—is empty. No sign of him. No footsteps, no steady breathing that you’ve come to expect as the constant reminder of his presence.

Where is he?

The food tray from last night is gone. Cleared away. The bed you’re sitting in feels too normal, too cozy, like some trap waiting to spring. You can’t trust it. You can’t trust anything. Your eyes move to the door. It’s slightly ajar, just a crack, and there’s an unnerving stillness in the air. The house is too quiet.

You slide out of bed, your bare feet sinking into the carpet. Your muscles are tense, ready, every nerve on edge. 

You step closer to the door, careful, listening for anything—footsteps, breathing, a creak of the floorboards. Nothing. Just the sound of the rain.

Your hand touches the doorknob, ready to push it open, when you hear it—a soft thud from down the hall.

Your body freezes, every muscle tensing as you strain to hear. The sound is subtle, distant, but unmistakable. A shuffling, like something—or someone—moving just out of sight.

He’s close.

You open the door cautiously, peeking out into the hallway. It’s dark, barely lit by the gray daylight seeping in from the windows. The house feels alive, as if the walls themselves are watching, breathing. The unease settles in your stomach, cold and heavy. You swallow, your throat tight, and take a step forward.

Another noise. A door creaking open further down the hall.

Your breath catches. Your feet hesitate. But you move forward, each step more careful than the last. Your heart races, every instinct screaming for you to turn around, to hide. But you can’t. You need to know where he is.

And then, you stop.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, and there—just inside—you see him.

Bucky.

He’s standing in front of the sink, his back to you. His hands are braced against the counter, his head slightly lowered, as if he’s… thinking. You freeze in place, watching him, your body paralyzed by the tension hanging thick in the air. He doesn’t know you’re here, not yet. He hasn’t heard you.

You could run. You could turn around right now, slip back into the bedroom, and pretend you never saw this. But something about the way he’s standing there—so still—keeps you rooted to the spot.

He moves.

Slowly, he straightens, his shoulders rising as he takes in a deep breath. He turns his head slightly, just enough that you catch the edge of his profile. And then, he speaks.

“I know you’re awake.”

Your stomach drops, a cold wave of dread washing over you.

“I was waiting for you,” he continues, his voice smooth, calm, like he’s talking about the weather. “But I guess you were planning on coming to find me instead.”

You feel the blood drain from your face, your heart pounding in your ears as he turns to face you fully, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a calmness in his expression that unnerves you more than anything else. He isn’t angry. He isn’t surprised.

He knew.

He knew the whole time.

× × × ×

The moment his eyes meet yours, you don’t think—you bolt.

Your feet barely hit the ground as you turn and bolt down the hallway, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, the sound of your breath ragged in your ears. Every muscle in your body screams to run, to get as far away from him as possible. You know he’s behind you. You can feel it, the tension stretching between you like a taut wire, ready to snap. But you don’t look back. You can’t.

The stairs are ahead, a sharp descent into the unknown, but they’re your only option. Your hand grips the bannister as you take the steps two at a time, your mind racing just as fast. You can hear him moving behind you, not in a rush, not in a panic. No, his footsteps are casual by the way they echo in the hallway above.

You hit the ground floor, your bare feet slipping on the cold tiles, but you manage to catch yourself. You have to hide. You have to be smart. If you don’t, he’ll catch you, and you know exactly what happens if he does.

You dart around the corner, your eyes scanning the room desperately. The house feels like a maze, twisting, unfamiliar. You’ve been here before, but in the haze of fear, everything feels different, distorted. You spot a door—a small one, leading to what looks like a pantry—and no hesitation you dash inside, pulling the door shut behind you.

Darkness swallows you whole, your back pressed against the wall, your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your shaky breath. 

The air feels thick in the tiny space, every sound amplified. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and you try to force yourself to stay calm. Think, think, think.

The silence stretches out, so thick you can almost hear it. And then—

You hear him.

His voice, soft, almost melodic, drifting through the house like a twisted lullaby.

“Y/N…”

Your body goes rigid. He’s calling for you, like this is some kind of game. A cat and mouse game. He’s playing with you, drawing it out, savoring every second of your panic.

“Where are you?” His voice echoes through the house, sickeningly sweet, and you can hear the smile in it, the amusement. Like this is a joke. Like you, running is nothing but entertainment for him.

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, trying to think of what you can do next, but every plan, every thought dissolves into pure terror as his footsteps get closer. The sound of his shoes on the floor is slow. He’s not in a rush. He knows you’re here. Somewhere.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

He sings your name again, drawing it out, each syllable rolling off his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of it. You bite your lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, your hands trembling as you clutch the inside of the door. You can’t breathe, can’t move. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode in your chest.

You hear him moving through the house, his voice drifting through every corner, getting closer, then further away. 

“You know I’ll find you…” His words are light, teasing, but beneath them lies something dark, something terrifyingly final. “I always do.”

His voice drifts through the hall, teasing, playful, as if this is all just fun for him. The sound of it makes your blood run cold, but you don’t move. You can’t. You tell yourself to stay calm, to think, to be smart. He wants you to panic. He wants you to break. Don’t.

The footsteps draw closer. You hear the soft creak of the floorboards just outside the door, and your body goes rigid. You can feel him on the other side, waiting, listening. You brace yourself, every nerve in your body on edge, ready for him to rip the door open and drag you out.

But he doesn’t.

There’s a long, agonizing pause. You hear him exhale softly, almost as if he’s amused. His presence lingers there, so close you can feel it through the door. The seconds stretch on, unbearable.

And then, he moves. The footsteps retreat, growing fainter, until you hear them no more.

You don’t move. You don’t breathe. You wait, your body coiled tight, every muscle aching with the tension. 

He’s gone, you tell yourself. He walked away. 

You listen carefully, straining your ears for any sound—nothing. Just the rain. He’s somewhere else in the house, looking for you.

The silence presses down on you, thick and suffocating. You tell yourself you have to move, that this is your chance. You wait a minute longer, then two, your hand still covering your mouth as you count the seconds. 

He’s gone. He’s not there anymore.

Finally, you exhale slowly and shift your weight, your legs cramped and trembling from holding still for so long. You push the door open an inch, peeking out into the hallway.

Empty.

The hallway is bathed in pale, gray light from the rain-soaked windows. No sign of him. Your pulse hammers in your ears, but you push the door open fully now, stepping out as silently as you can manage. The house feels too big, too quiet.

Maybe I can make it. Maybe he didn’t hear me.

You take a cautious step forward, your eyes scanning the empty corridor. Another step, careful, quiet. The air feels cold against your skin, the house eerily still, like the eye of a storm.

You glance in both directions. The hall is empty.

He’s gone.

You make it halfway down the hallway, moving toward the back of the house, your breath coming in shallow huffs. You take a step, then another, your movements calculated and soundless, trying to map out your escape. Each second feels like a victory, a step closer to being free of him. You are smarter than him. You can outthink him.

As you move, you walk backward for a moment, keeping your eyes on the hallway behind you. You don’t trust it—why would you?—so you check, making sure he isn’t sneaking up on you. Your back presses against the wall for stability as you inch toward the exit, ready to make your move.

And then—you feel something.

Something warm. Something solid. Your entire body goes rigid as you feel it—him.

You freeze, terror gripping you before you even have a chance to process the situation. Slowly, painfully slowly, you turn your head, knowing exactly what you’ll see.

Bucky.

He’s standing right behind you, closer than you ever imagined he could be, his chest pressed against your back, his breath steady. How did he move so silently? How did he manage to be right here, right on top of you, without a single sound?

Your heart slams against your ribcage as you try to pull away, but his hand is already on your arm, gentle but firm, holding you in place. The smile on his face is unsettling, a mixture of amusement and something far darker. He knew. He always knew.

“You were trying to sneak away, weren’t you?” His voice is soft, too soft, like this is all just a lighthearted conversation between two people who aren’t trapped in a nightmare. “I could feel it.”

His fingers tighten around your arm, not painfully, but just enough to remind you that he’s not letting go. That he sees you, even in your cleverness, even in your silence.

“You’re quiet,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I like that. But quiet doesn’t mean I won’t find you.”

“I was just…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, but it catches in your throat. You can feel him watching you, his eyes scanning your face, reading every thought before you’ve even formed it.

“Just what?” he asks, his tone almost playful, like he’s toying with you, like this is nothing more than a game. His fingers brush your skin, tracing lazy circles, and it sends a wave of nausea through you.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your mind is racing, but the words won’t come.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against the side of your neck, and you can’t stop the way your body tenses, every nerve screaming with terror.

“I told you, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the rain. “I’ll always know where you are.”

Your breath catches, and you feel his hand shift, sliding down your arm, fingers curling around your wrist. He pulls you closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you, suffocating.

You want to scream, to pull away, but you know it won’t do any good. You’ve been clever, careful—but not enough. You underestimated him.

You force yourself to breathe, to think through the thick fog of panic that clouds your mind. Every instinct screams at you to do something, anything to get away, but Bucky’s grip is firm, his presence all-consuming. His hand is still around your wrist, holding you in place, as if you belong here. As if there was never a question of where you should be.

“I see that look,” he murmurs, his voice so low it almost blends with the sound of the rain. “You’re thinking. Calculating.”

You swallow hard, your heart slamming against your ribs. Of course, you’re thinking. You’re always thinking. You’re looking for the smallest crack in the situation, the tiniest escape route. But he knows. He sees it in you.

“You always think you can figure me out, don’t you?” His breath tickles the side of your face, and you flinch, trying to pull away even though you know it’s futile.

Your mind races, but his presence is like a cage, keeping you trapped, making every idea seem impossible. You can feel the tension tightening, every second a countdown to whatever he’s planning next. His thumb moves in circles over your wrist, a gesture that might seem comforting if it weren’t so... controlling.

Then he releases you.

The sudden absence of his grip is jarring. You stumble backward a step, your body instinctively retreating, but you catch yourself before you fall. You stare at him, shocked that he’s let go, that he’s giving you space.

Bucky just smiles, watching you. He's toying with you, letting you think you have a chance when deep down, you know he’s still in control.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice soft and measured. “But you have to stop running. You’re making this harder on yourself.”

Your skin prickles with dread as you try to process his words. He’s letting you go, but it’s not real freedom. It’s a leash—an invisible one, stretched just enough to let you feel like you’re in control. But he’s still holding the end of it, ready to pull you back the moment you step too far.

You stand there, frozen, every muscle in your body screaming to run, but your mind knows better. He’s faster than you. Stronger. More dangerous.

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to make a move, to see what you’ll do next. And you know, whatever you do, he’ll be ready.

“I can wait all day,” he says, tilting his head slightly, as if he’s genuinely curious about what you’ll choose. “But you won’t make it far.”

Your mouth goes dry as you take a shaky breath, your eyes darting to the door, the only possible exit. The rain is still hammering down outside, loud and relentless, but it’s the only thing between you and whatever comes next.

But you know if you run now, it’ll be exactly what he wants.

So, you make a decision.

Instead of bolting, instead of giving in to the panic rising in your chest, you take step forward. Toward him.

His eyes flicker with something—surprise? Amusement? You can’t tell—but it doesn’t matter. You’re not playing the game the way he wants you to anymore. You’re taking control, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Then stop pretending this is some game,” you say, your voice steady, even though you feel anything but. “What do you want?”

He takes a step closer, closing the distance you just created, and you can feel the tension coil between you again, tighter than before.

“You know what I want,” he says softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You don’t dare break it, waiting for him to speak, to reveal the thing that’s been lurking in the shadows between you both since the moment you met. The way he’s looking at you now, with that dark, unreadable intensity, makes your skin crawl. Your question hangs in the air, and you can’t tell if he’s stalling, or if he’s just savouring the moment—savouring you.

Then he leans in, just a fraction closer, his voice lowering to that chilling, intimate whisper that makes every nerve in your body scream for you to run.

“What I want,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “is simple. I want you to stop fighting it. To stop pretending this isn’t what you need. What you want.”

You stiffen, your pulse skyrocketing, because it’s not the answer you were expecting. There’s a raw edge to his words, a dangerous undertone that tells you he’s been thinking about this for a long time—planning it.

“I want you to see that this, us—” he gestures vaguely between you, his eyes never leaving yours—“is inevitable. You can run, hide, resist, but you’ll always end up right. back. here.”

You feel a chill run through your veins as his words sink in. He doesn’t just want to keep you here, doesn’t just want your compliance. He wants your submission. He wants you to accept this twisted reality he’s created, to fall in line with whatever fantasy he’s been building in his head.

Your breath hitches, but you manage to hold his gaze, even as your mind reels with panic. 

“You’re insane,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. “This isn’t love, Bucky.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” he says softly, his smile returning, more dangerous than ever. “But I know you, Y/N. I’ve watched you. I’ve studied you. And you can’t hide from the truth forever.”

“I know what you need,” he whispers, his voice softer now, almost... tender. “And when you finally stop running, when you stop fighting it, you’ll see it too.”

Your chest tightens, your mind racing to find something—anything—to say that might break this twisted spell he’s trying to weave. But you know, deep down, that no matter what you say, he’s already convinced himself that this is real. That you are his.

And that’s when it hits you.

What he wants isn’t just to keep you here, to cage you like some prize. He wants you to choose it. To accept him, this situation, this twisted version of love he’s built in his mind. He wants you to believe it, to fall into his arms willingly.

But you won’t. You can’t.

“I’ll never give you what you want,” you repeat, your voice defiant, even though the fear tightens in your chest. “I’ll never see this the way you do.”

For a moment, the silence between you thickens. You think maybe he’ll finally snap, maybe this will be the moment he loses control. But instead, his smile deepens, and the amusement in his eyes takes on a sharper, more sinister edge.

“Is that right?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “Because, according to your texts... that’s not what you’ve been telling your friends.”

Before you can even process his words, he’s already pulling out your phone again, holding it between you like a trophy. His thumb glided over the screen, his eyes flickering with the satisfaction of someone who’s about to wield power in the most insidious way.

“Let’s see what we have here, shall we?” he murmurs, not even looking at you as he pulls up your messages. “Ah, here’s a good one.”

He clears his throat theatrically before reading aloud, his voice dripping with false amusement. “He’s got this look when he’s on top of me. Like, I swear, it could melt your soul. I think I’m done for.”

Your stomach turns as the words leave his lips, each syllable twisting into something vile as he quotes your own words back to you. You remember sending that, of course. You’d been giddy, drunk on lust and naivety, texting your friends in a moment of bliss that feels a lifetime away now.

Bucky’s eyes flick to you, watching your reaction with that same unsettling calm. “Done for, huh?” he teases. “That’s not exactly the defiance you’re showing me right now.”

You clench your fists at your sides, trying to steady your breath, but he’s already scrolling again. His thumb pauses, and he smirks as if he’s found something even better.

“Oh, this one’s great,” he says, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Is he big?” he reads with a dramatic pause, glancing at you. “Girl, you have no idea. Let's just say I’m not getting out of bed anytime soon.”

Heat floods your face, not with the memory, but with the sheer horror of hearing him say it out loud. Your body goes rigid as the humiliation washes over you, but Bucky—he just chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he says, the smugness in his voice unbearable. “It’s good to know I’ve been leaving an impression.”

He swipes again, his smirk growing. “Let’s see... oh, what’s this?” His voice takes on an almost sing-song quality as he reads the next one. “He’s so attentive, it’s like he knows what I want before I do. Honestly, I think he’s perfect. He’s in my head, like... all the time.”

Your throat tightens, and you force yourself to look at him, your heart thundering in your chest. He’s savouring every moment of this, twisting your words into a weapon, using them to deepen his control over you.

He steps closer, eyes glinting, before reading the next one. “There’s something about him... something that makes me feel like I could lose myself. In a good way. Like, I don’t even care anymore. I just want him.”

He leans in, his breath grazing your ear as he whispers, “You just want me, huh? It seems like the girl who wrote this was much more open to the idea of us.”

You jerk your head away, disgusted by how easily he’s taken everything private, every vulnerability, and turned it into another chain to bind you with. You grit your teeth, but he’s still scrolling.

“One more,” he says with false sweetness, pausing for effect as he reads the final message. “I think I’m falling for him. For real. He’s just... I don’t know. He makes me feel safe, like no one else ever has.”

He lets the words hang in the air, his smile fading just a little as he watches your reaction.

“And that,” he says softly, “is the part I like the most.”

His voice lowers, his face inches from yours now. “You felt safe with me. And you know why? Because deep down, you want to. You want to believe I’m the one who can protect you, give you everything you need. And I will. You just have to stop fighting it.”

Your stomach twists as his words sink in, as he lays bare the twisted reality he’s built around you. He wants you to choose this, to let him be the one who controls everything. And he’s using your own desires, your own words, to manipulate you.

Your pulse is pounding in your ears, his infuriating chuckle echoing through your bones, and you can’t stand it anymore. The phone—the embodiment of everything he’s stolen from you—dangles just out of reach, held by his towering frame like it’s a toy, a prize he knows you can’t win.

Your teeth grit, hands curling into fists. The room feels like it’s shrinking, the air too thick to breathe. He’s mocking you. Smiling. Enjoying this.

“Give it to me!” you spit, your voice sharp and desperate, the words cutting through the tense air like glass.

His smile widens, the amusement in his eyes deepening, like your demand only adds fuel to his fire. He raises the phone higher, just enough to make you reach again, to make the gap between you and your freedom feel all the more impossible.

“What was that?” he teases, voice calm, soft—almost too soft. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

You take a step forward, pushing against his chest with all the force you can muster. “I said give it to me!” You try to leap, your fingers brushing against the edge of the phone, but he pulls it back effortlessly, his hand now resting on your waist as if steadying you—as if you need his help.

His chuckle rumbles low, and it makes your skin crawl. “Y/N…” he says, dragging out your name, the amusement thick in his voice. “You really think you can just take it? Like it’s that simple?”

You shove harder against him, your breath coming in short, angry bursts, trying to wriggle free from his grasp, but his hand stays firm on your waist, not letting you get any real distance. “It’s mine! You don’t get to—”

Before you can finish, you jump again, practically climbing him in your attempt to grab the phone. You’re fully pressing against his chest now, using every bit of strength you have, your body coiled with frustration and fury as you reach for the device. But it’s no use. His arm is longer, his height an insurmountable barrier.

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with that insufferable grin, his free hand catching your waist to stop you from going any higher.

“Keep trying, sweetheart,” he whispers, his breath brushing against your skin as you struggle. “But you’re not going to get it.”

His voice is patronizing, soaked with amusement, and it only makes you more desperate, more furious. You plant your feet harder, pushing up with all your strength, but he doesn’t even move. You’re climbing a wall that won’t budge, and the realization stings.

“Give. It. To. Me.” Your voice is tight, angry, each word spat out through gritted teeth as you dig your nails into his arm, still trying to claw your way up, but the phone remains out of reach.

He’s barely even trying to stop you, just lifting the phone higher, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he holds you in place. His chuckle deepens, a low rumble of satisfaction.

“Why are you fighting so hard for something that’s already mine?” he asks, his voice laced with cruel amusement. “These words... you gave them to me. You already handed me your trust.”

You try to twist out of his grasp, your breath catching in your throat, but his hand stays firm, his body unyielding.

“You don’t own me,” you snap, your voice shaking with both rage and humiliation. “You don’t get to decide—”

His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you back down to the ground, your feet slipping on the floor as you stumble back, breathless and furious. He pockets the phone slowly, as if to remind you that it’s not going anywhere.

His eyes meet yours, dark and amused, his voice low and taunting. “Oh, I’m not deciding anything,” he murmurs, his smile twisting. “You already did.”

Bucky stands over you, tall and unyielding, his shadow looming, making the space around you feel smaller, tighter. His lips curl into that same infuriating smirk, the one that makes your blood boil and sends a thrill of something you don’t want to acknowledge coursing through your veins.

“Asshole,” you mutter again, glaring up at him, refusing to let him see the fear—or worse, the heat—burning inside you.

His eyes gleam with amusement. He kneels slowly, bringing himself to your level, but still towering over you in that way that makes you feel completely trapped, even as you’re free to move.

“What was that?” he asks softly, his voice barely a murmur, though you know he heard you the first time.

You hate how your body betrays you, hate that he knows it too. You bite your lip, trying to steady yourself, to not let him see how much he’s rattling you. But he’s watching you, every small movement, every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. 

You try to push yourself away from him, to put some distance between you, but his hand tightens on your waist, just enough to keep you in place. 

“Say it again,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear now, sending a jolt of something electric through your body that you wish wasn’t there.

“I said you’re an asshole,” you snap, louder this time, your voice sharp and angry. 

He chuckles, low and dark, and the sound makes your skin prickle with a mix of fury and something you don’t want to acknowledge. 

“I like it when you fight,” he murmurs, his voice soft and teasing, his breath warm against your neck. “It’s cute.”

The heat of his breath on your skin makes you shudder involuntarily, and you grit your teeth, trying to suppress the way your body reacts to him. You want to shove him away, to regain some semblance of control, but your body feels frozen, caught between the urge to push him back and something else entirely. Something you refuse to admit is there.

“Let me go.” you manage, but your voice falters, quieter than you intended, betraying you.

He doesn’t let go. Instead, his hand slides up your side, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His fingers brush against your ribs, the touch light but possessive, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Do you really want me to?” he whispers, his lips now barely an inch from your neck. His words send a shiver racing through your body, and you grit your teeth, determined not to let him see how much he’s affecting you.

“Bucky...” you start, trying to sound firm, trying to hold onto the anger that’s slipping through your fingers, but your voice falters as you realise how close he is, how the heat between you is suffocating.

He smirks again, his thumb brushing over your waist in a way that sends an involuntary tremor through you. “You can say my name all you want,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that makes your stomach twist. “But we both know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Your body tenses at his words, both from the insult and the way his hand moves, as if he’s unravelling you, piece by piece. You try to pull back again, but his grip tightens just enough to remind you that you’re not going anywhere.

“You think you’ve got me figured out?” you snap, trying to regain some ground, some sense of control.

He chuckles again, that same low, maddening sound that sets your nerves on edge. 

“I know more than you think,” he says, his hand moving higher, his fingers brushing against the curve of your ribs now, his touch sending sparks through your skin. “You’ve been trying to fight this from the beginning, but we both know where this is going.”

The space between you is shrinking, the heat between your bodies unbearable, and you can feel the tension pulling you in, your body betraying you in the worst possible way. You bite your lip, trying to focus, to remember why you hate him, why you should be pushing him away. 

But he’s so close now, his lips barely a breath away from your skin, and you can feel his words more than hear them as he leans in, his voice a whisper that sends a tremor through your entire body.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck, and for a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe, as the world narrows to just the two of you.

You should push him away. You want to push him away. But instead, you’re sitting there, heart racing, torn between the anger burning inside you and the heat building between you. And Bucky knows it. He sees it in your eyes, in the way your breath catches, and that only makes his smirk grow wider.

“Just admit it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “You want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitches, your fists clenching as you fight the urge to react, to give him the satisfaction. But the tension between you is unbearable now, suffocating, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep fighting it.

Bucky tilts his head to the side, his eyes dark and hooded, slowly drifting down to your lips. His lips are so close to yours now, hovering millimetres away, teasing you, taunting you with the possibility of something more. 

But he doesn’t close the gap. He just hovers there, waiting, watching your reaction, drawing it out. His smirk deepens, satisfied, as if he’s savoring the way you’re teetering on the edge, caught between your instinct to pull away and the pull of something undeniable between you.

Your mind races, the rational part of you screaming to shove him away, to stop this before it goes any further. But your body—your traitorous body—responds to the heat between you, every nerve alight, betraying the internal conflict waging within you. 

"You're holding back," he whispers, his voice low, taunting, the words vibrating in the air between you. His breath brushes your skin, so close you can almost feel his lips move against yours, but still, he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of closing the distance.

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to keep your expression defiant. “You think I’m just going to give in?” you uttered firmly.

Bucky’s smirk grows. He’s not just playing with your emotions; he’s studying you, every breath, every reaction.

“I think you like this,” he murmurs, his voice as smooth as silk, the words wrapping around you, making it harder to breathe. “This tension between us, this fight. You crave it.”

His lips are so close you can almost taste the heat of him, but he continues to hold back, leaving you on the brink, trapped in the space between resistance and temptation.

“You’re wrong,” you manage, though your voice falters slightly, betraying you. You hate that he’s gotten this far, that he’s managed to chip away at your defenses, but you refuse to let him see just how much he’s affecting you.

“Am I?” he whispers, his lips hovering so close to yours you can barely stand it. His hand tightens slightly on your waist, pulling you closer, but still, he keeps you waiting, holding you in this unbearable tension.

He leans in again, his breath ghosting over your lips, his voice a soft murmur. "I can feel it, Y/N. You're on the edge. Just let go."

Your heart pounds in your chest, every 

Bucky watches you for a moment longer, eyes narrowing as if he’s weighing your silence, calculating your resistance. Then his smirk returns, a little darker this time, as though he’s decided something in that moment.

"You’re going to see it my way," he murmurs, his voice low, full of certainty. "And I’m going to prove it to you."

His arm wraps around your waist firmly, and before you can react, you’re lifted off the floor. Your breath catches as he throws you over his shoulder with ease, like you weigh nothing. You let out an involuntary gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing at his back, trying to steady yourself as your body hangs over him.

“Bucky!” you protest, your voice sharper now, but it’s drowned out by the sound of his footsteps as he starts walking back toward the stairs.

“Shh,” he says softly, his tone almost playful, but there’s an edge to it, a finality that makes your stomach twist. “You’ll thank me later.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you’re carried back toward the bedroom. You push against his back, but his grip doesn’t loosen, and the casual strength he holds you with only makes your pulse race faster.

You struggle against him, trying to twist out of his grasp, but he only tightens his hold, his voice calm, unbothered. “Fighting me only makes it harder for you, Y/N.”

Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as he carries you up the stairs, the panic and tension growing with each step. You know where he’s taking you, and the thought of being trapped in that bedroom again sends a chill through your body.

“Put me down!” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear, but Bucky only chuckles softly.

“Oh, I will,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. 

You feel your body shift slightly as Bucky pushes open the door to the bedroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and your heart pounds in your ears as you realise there’s no escaping him now.

"Put me down!" you demand, trying to keep your voice steady, though every fiber of your being is on high alert.

Bucky throws you onto the bed with effortless strength. The world spins for a split second, and you land with a bounce, the mattress swallowing your weight. You gasp, disoriented, struggling to regain your composure as you push yourself up on your elbows.

Bucky stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with that same infuriating confidence, his smirk widening as he watches your reaction.

"You—" you start, the anger rising in your chest, but before you can finish, he interrupts you, his voice filled with mock innocence.

“What? You told me to put you down,” he says, shrugging casually, as if tossing you onto the bed was the most natural thing in the world. His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s an edge beneath it—a dark undercurrent that makes it clear he’s still fully in control.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, caught between the absurdity of his reply and the tension hanging thick in the air. His casual playfulness only heightens the unnerving sense of power he holds over you, as if even your resistance is something he finds amusing.

You narrow your eyes at him, refusing to let him see just how rattled you are. “You know exactly what I meant,” you snap, keeping your voice firm, even as your pulse quickens under his unrelenting gaze.

He tilts his head, feigning innocence again, that infuriating smirk never leaving his lips. “I just follow instructions, doll,” he says, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes tell a different story—dark, dangerous, and full of intent.

You sit up straighter, fighting the feeling of vulnerability that creeps over you, and meet his gaze with unwavering defiance. "You’re not as clever as you think," you say, keeping your tone sharp.

His smirk widens, and he steps closer to the bed, his movements slow, he’s savoring the tension between you. "Oh, I think we both know how clever I am," he replies, his voice dropping to a smooth murmur. 

You sit up slightly, propped on your elbows, your pulse quickening as he approaches. Bucky moves swiftly, his hands coming down on either side of you, caging you in. His body looms over yours, and the mattress dips under the weight of him, pinning you in place. 

The sudden proximity steals the breath from your lungs, and your eyes dart up to meet his. The intensity of his gaze hits you like a physical force, his pupils are blown wide, dilated. His face is so close now that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, his presence suffocating, overwhelming.

He doesn’t move. Neither do you.

You’re hyper aware of everything—his hands gripping the mattress on either side of you, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the intoxicating scent of him invading your senses. 

You try to look anywhere else, anywhere but where his gaze is leading you. But it’s impossible. His stare pulls at you, like a gravitational force, dragging you into his orbit. And all you can think about is how close he is. Too close. Your heart thuds in your chest, each beat louder than the last, echoing in the silence between you.

Your eyes flicker—just for a second—down to his lips.

You curse yourself instantly for it, but it’s too late. He noticed. Of course he noticed. His smirk deepens, barely perceptible, but you feel it like a jolt of electricity. That knowing look, that arrogant satisfaction that he’s in control, and you’re fighting a battle you can’t win.

You force your eyes back up, meeting his once more, desperate to regain some sense of control, some measure of defiance. But the tension between you is unbearable now, thick like a vice tightening around your chest. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room, leaving only the charged space between your lips, the millimeters separating you from him.

Every nerve in your body is on edge, bracing for something you’re not even sure you want to resist.

Bucky leans in just a fraction more, his lips hovering so close to yours that the distance is almost unbearable. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady, and for a moment, you’re not sure if it’s your heart or his that’s pounding in your ears.

You try—desperately—not to look at his lips again, but it’s like trying to ignore gravity.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. The silence is louder than any words he could say. You know what he’s waiting for. He’s waiting for you to break, to give in to the pull you’ve both been fighting for what feels like forever.

Your hands clench at your sides, every muscle in your body tight with the effort of holding back, of not giving in to the dangerous allure of his proximity. But it’s so hard to breathe, so hard to think when he’s this close, when his eyes are this intense, when his lips are right there, almost touching yours.

And just when you think you can’t hold out any longer, that you’ll snap under the pressure of the moment, Bucky’s voice cuts through the silence, low and husky, barely above a whisper.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his breath brushing your lips, sending another shiver down your spine. “Don’t look away.”

You think about defying him, about turning your head and breaking free from the suffocating tension. He was on top of you, all that hard muscle pinning you down to where you couldn’t move. You could feel him everywhere, especially his cock, which was thick against your belly. Fighting him only turned him on, and now you were thinking about sex.

And you hate that he’s right.

Just when the air feels too thick to breathe, he pulls away.

The shift is sudden, leaving you lying there on the bed, breathless and confused. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you can’t quite make sense of what just happened. One second, he was so close—too close—and the next, he’s stepping back, putting space between you.

You blink, trying to catch your breath, your mind scrambling to process the whirlwind of emotions and sensations that have left you dizzy and disoriented. The heat from his body lingers on your skin, but his absence feels colder than you expected.

Bucky stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at you, his face now unreadable. The smirk is gone, replaced by a cool, detached expression that makes your stomach churn. It’s as if the moment you shared—the one that left you teetering on the edge—never happened. His eyes, once dark and intense, are now distant, cold.

“Be a good girl and stay there,” he says, his voice flat, authoritative. There's no teasing in his tone now, just a command.

The words hang in the air, and you find yourself frozen, unable to move, unsure whether it's from the weight of his command or the confusion swirling in your chest. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that he’s pulled back, leaving you stranded in the wake of something you didn’t quite understand—and maybe weren’t ready for.

He doesn't wait for a response, doesn't check to see if you’ll obey. He simply turns, walking away, leaving you lying there on the bed, torn between the need to push back and the sinking realisation that he’s still in control, no matter how much space he puts between you.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

There’s a moment when power shifts—when control is no longer just something you hold, but something you feel, deep in your bones. I see it in your eyes, the flicker of confusion, of vulnerability, as I step away from the bed. You think you understand what’s happening, that you have a handle on your own defiance, but the truth is, you’re already exactly where I want you. And isn’t that the beauty of it?

The tension between us was intoxicating, wasn’t it? The way you looked at me, fighting the pull, the temptation, the inevitable. I gave you space to breathe, to think. But now, it’s time to decide what comes next.

I step out of the bedroom, the door closing behind me with the softest click. You probably think this is your moment to regroup, maybe catch your breath, wonder where I’ve gone. But, let’s be honest, I’m never really gone, am I? I’m in your thoughts right now, circling your every breath, every heartbeat, while you lie there and try to pretend you can fight this.

I move down the hallway, not in a hurry. I savor this, the anticipation hanging in the air between us. When I reach the room, it’s quiet. Still. Organized. Everything in this space has been meticulously laid out, prepared for this moment. Choices, all of them deliberate. I don’t rush this, because why would I? I like to take my time. And you? You’ll feel that patience in every step I take.

I look over the table, where everything is waiting. The blindfold catches my eye first. Simple, soft. It’s always the smallest things that strip away the most control, isn’t it? You rely on your sight, that sense of security you have when you can gauge what’s coming, what I’m doing. The blindfold removes that. You’ll be left with nothing but the sound of my voice and the weight of your own breath. Your heart will race faster the moment it goes dark. You’ll feel it—your world narrowing, closing in.

But there’s more. My fingers brush against the bed restraints. These are designed to remind you of something fundamental: the boundaries I set are not negotiable. No matter how hard you might try, these restraints are proof that you’re not getting away. You’ll strain against them, at first, testing your limits, feeling that surge of defiance before you realize just how futile it is. That moment, when your body gives in to the restraint—that’s when you’ll understand that the control was never yours to begin with.

I pick them both up—the blindfold in one hand, the restraints in the other. But before heading back to you, I stop, glancing at myself in the mirror in this room. The tension in the air, the power of what’s coming next, calls for something more. Something raw. I remove my shirt, letting it fall to the floor. The cool air hits my skin, but it does nothing to temper the heat building inside. This isn’t just about control anymore; it’s about presence. Dominance.

× × × × 

YOUR POV

The door creaks open slowly, and you’re already on your feet. You don’t know what your plan is—if you even have one—but lying there, waiting like some docile thing, that’s not you. You can feel the tension in your legs, every muscle taut as you stand by the bed, trying to control your breathing, trying to look like you’ve made a conscious decision, even though the truth is, you don’t know what you’re going to do next.

And then he appears.

Bucky steps back into the room, shirtless. His bare chest catches your eye, the light cutting sharp angles across his skin, emphasizing every line of muscle. For a moment, it steals your breath. Not because of how he looks—but because it’s another calculated move. He’s always thinking, always pushing, and now this is about more than just words or actions—it’s about his very presence. It fills the room, like he’s claiming the space itself.

Your eyes instinctively flick down to his hands. He’s holding something—dark fabric and... yes, restraints. The blindfold dangles from his fingers, the soft black material barely catching the light. The restraints, sleek and unyielding, swing lightly from his other hand.

And then he notices you.

He stops, just inside the doorway, and for a moment, the air between you shifts. His eyes darken, and you catch the subtle frown that pulls at the corner of his mouth as he takes in the fact that you’re no longer on the bed. The smallest hint of irritation flickers across his face, quickly replaced by that cool, composed exterior. But it was there. You saw it.

Good.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he considers you, and for a moment, neither of you move. It’s a silent standoff, and you can feel the weight of his disapproval pressing against you. 

But then, a slow, exhale leaves his lips, and his expression shifts. He takes a step forward, his gaze never leaving yours. His frown is gone, replaced by something colder, more calculating.

“You’re out of bed,” he says, his voice low, calm, but there’s an edge to it, as though he’s daring you to explain. “Lie down.”

You don’t. You stand your ground, refusing to retreat, even though your pulse is hammering in your chest. You know this won’t change the inevitable, but you’re not going to make it easy for him. 

“Don’t fight me,” he whispers, his voice low and smooth. “It will be easier for you if you don’t make trouble.” 

“But I like trouble,” You said without thinking.

You hadn’t thought about how this would come across, though. Your vpice thick with defiance, you realize what you’ve done. You’ve just challenged him. Again.

His expression went hard, a little scary. “I will give you the count of three. If you’re not in bed before then, there will be consequences.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. He isn’t bluffing.

Your gaze flickers down to his hands, and you see them—the blindfold, the restraints. He’s holding them loosely, his fingers flexing as if he’s already deciding exactly how to use them. 

“One. . .”

He takes a step forward, his eyes locked on you, his presence overwhelming in the small space. You feel your pulse spike, But you stand your ground, glaring back at him, the fire of your own defiance still flickering even as fear claws at your throat.

“Two. . .”

The sound of the second number sends a rush of panic through you. He’s not going to wait much longer. You know that. But you can’t bring yourself to back down.

“Three.”

The word comes out soft, but the weight behind it is crushing. He doesn’t give you time to react. His hand moves in a blur, reaching for you, and before you can take a breath, he’s closed the distance between you, his grip firm but not painful as he grabs your wrist.

The blindfold and restraints in his other hand hang there, a silent threat, a promise of what’s to come.

“You made your choice,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, his face inches from yours, and the dark amusement in his eyes is gone now. “Now, you'll have to deal with the consequences…” He pauses, his gaze flickering over you, and a wicked smile curls on his lips. "And trust me, sweetheart, you're going to feel every single one of them."

And you know, as he pulls you toward the bed, that this game is over.

But the consequences? They’re just beginning.

“No!” you grunted, you bucked and kicked out with your legs, hoping like hell you caught him in the junk, “Get off me!”

Bucky barely flinches, his grip tightening as he maneuvers effortlessly to pin you down. The way he handles you—strong, unyielding—sends a fresh wave of panic through your body.

“Nice try,” he mutters, his voice calm, controlled, that terrifying composure still in place. “But it’s going to take a lot more than that to stop me.”

His hand moves swiftly to your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it with ease. You feel the smooth leather strap, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s threading it through the buckle.

You buck again, a surge of panic flooding your chest, but his knee presses firmly into your legs, pinning you down. He moves quickly, efficiently, pulling your arm to the side as the leather restraint tightens around your wrist with a sharp pull.

The soft creak of leather is the only sound as he secures the second strap to your other wrist, buckling it in place, leaving you spread wide, helpless. Your chest heaves with the effort, but it’s too late—the leather holds fast, unyielding.

"See?" he says, his voice low, that dangerous smile tugging at his lips again. “You can fight all you want, but it’s only going to make this more interesting for me.”

“I hate you!”

He didn’t answer as he strode toward the end of the bed. His strong naked chest was distracting in the greyness of daylight, with a myriad of scars and rough marks criss-crossing his skin like a road map. This was a cruel man, unyielding and unafraid of violence.

You pressed your lips together when he produced a set of the same restraints at the foot of the bed. 

Oh, shit. 

Bucky grabbed your ankle and worked the cuff over your foot. 

“You don’t need to do this,” you rushed out, bargaining.“I’m not going anywhere.” Thanks to the wrist restraints.

The cuff pulled tight on your right leg. Satisfied, Bucky moved to the other side and you started taking deep breaths, fighting the urge to kick and fight. What was he planning? Why did he need you spread-eagle on the bed?

When you were tied down, he climbed onto the bed, his muscles shifting as he crawled between your thighs, and your nerves twitched and twisted in your belly. This wasn’t good.

He stops in front of you and slips the blindfold over your eyes, plunging you into darkness. Your breath hitches, and you feel a surge of panic rising in your chest. You try to pull away, he grabs your chin, holding you in place. 

You can feel the heat of him, the way his body is so close to yours, and it makes you feel trapped, helpless. Every sense is heightened now that you can’t see. Every sound, every movement, every touch feels amplified, and you hate it. You hate how vulnerable you are.

With a swift, almost ruthless motion, Bucky grabs the delicate fabric of your nightgown, and in one clean, forceful pull, it rips in half. The sound of the tear echoes through the room, loud and raw, the fragile material giving way under his hands. The shredded pieces dangle from his fingers for a brief moment before they fall to the floor, discarded. 

His palms slid up your thighs and under your nightie and goose bumps broke out all along your skin. “Should I let you come, little girl?” he says, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear. 

Heat bloomed in your pussy, those words charged in ways you couldn’t begin to unpack. Was he really going to play the daddy card right now? Fuck. It was like he could see into your mind on how best to manipulate you. 

“Don’t,” You pleaded, not even caring that you sounded weak.

He pushed your panties to the side, gently tracing your entrance with his middle finger. “Just as I thought. Wet.” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked your arousal off. “You like that, when I call you little girl.”

“No, I don’t,” You said, your chest heaving with the force of your breath. “You don’t need to do this.” 

“Do you ache inside?” He slipped his finger directly into your channel, pressing deep until he was completely seated. Then he curled his finger, hitting a spot that you'd sworn was an urban myth.

Your back bowed off the bed, limbs pulling tight against the restraints, and you bit your lip to stay quiet. You did not want to think about how good any part of him felt inside you, how that finger wasn’t nearly enough. 

“Please,” you panted, not sure what you were asking for. He pumped his hand, the friction both delicious and frustrating. Then he added another finger, going slow until it was in, and you whimpered. He’s playing with you, you know it and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“You can feel it huh?” He said, “Your pussy is sucking in my fingers. So greedy. Don’t worry. I am going to take very good care of you.”

You held your breath. You didn’t know what was about to happen. You only knew it was going to be bad. If he teased you, it would be awful. Worse than awful. If he actually pleasured you, if you surrendered to him, it would be humiliating. He would gain the upper hand, and that was what scared you most. 

Licking you dry lips, you forced out, “I don’t need you to take care of me. Let me take care of you instead.”

He pumped his fingers lazily, in and out, in and out, dragging against your sensitive tissues. You inhaled sharply, the pleasure streaking through you like lightning. 

“Hmm keep telling yourself that.” He said like he doesn’t believe you, because he actually doesn't.

Your body strained toward the source of that bliss, chasing it and making a liar out of yourself. 

“Yes, I do. If you just—please—don't.” You could barely keep track of the conversation as he fucked you with his fingers.

“Hear how wet your pussy is for me?” The slick sounds filled the bedroom and you wanted to die of shame. He chuckled.

“Go fuck yourself!” you snapped, hoping your words would have some bite.

“Why would I? When you're right here, dripping and ready for me?” Bucky murmured, then flicked his tongue unexpectedly over your clit. You tried to keep your expression from revealing anything you were feeling, but when he twisted and pumped at the same time, you moaned deep in your throat.

Then he started eating you out. He licked and sucked like you were a meal and he was starving, his attention focused on your clit, swirling and sucking, and you suddenly knew what you had been missing out on all these years. Using the flat of his tongue, he massaged your clit, then drew it into his mouth to suck on it, again. At the same time, he strummed your clit with his tongue, rubbing and pressing. Bucky mastered your body in seconds, like some sort of pussy wizard, because you were instantly on the verge of coming. Your thighs started shaking and your lungs couldn’t pull in air.

And he stopped. 

You gasped, lurching, you tried to bring yourself closer to where you think his face is, where his breath felt hot. You could feel him smirking.

× × × ×

Bucky’s POV

Your thighs are trembling now, shaking in that way that tells me you're teetering on the edge, every muscle in your body straining. I watch, fascinated, as your lungs struggle to pull in air, your body begging for relief, for release. 

And then, I stop.

You gasp, a desperate sound, your body lurching as you try to chase what I've just taken from you. You try to bring yourself closer, your movements frantic, instinctive, as if by sheer will alone. Your head turns, your lips parting, reaching for where you think my face is—where my breath felt hot against your skin moments ago.

But I don't move. I smirk, watching the way your body fights itself, craving more but knowing I control every last part of this moment. 

"You're so predictable," I murmur, my voice low, almost mocking, but there's a darkness in it that lingers. "Always wanting more... always needing to be just a little closer, don't you?”

I run my hands down your sides, feeling every tense muscle beneath my fingertips, relishing the way your body responds to even the lightest touch. You arch, trying to make contact, to feel something—anything. But then, my hands lift off you, and the absence of touch sends a ripple of frustration through you. I can feel it, the tension mounting, the need rising higher. 

I reach across for the bullet vibrator, my fingers curling around the small device. I press the button, the faint hum vibrating in my hand as I adjust it to the lowest setting. The sound is barely audible over your labored breathing, but you know. You feel what's coming next. 

I lean down, my lips brushing your ear, my breath hot against your skin. "You know how this works," I whisper, my voice soft, almost tender. "I decide when. I decide how much. And you? You're going to beg for it." 

You can feel the vibration ever so slightly as I circle the air above your lovely hard nipples. I massage the bullet extremely gently around the outer edge of one of your nipples and then do the same with the other. I move it in slow circles, like a promise I’ve yet to fulfil. I can see the way your body responds—tense, trembling, straining for something more. 

“You feel that?” I murmur, my voice a low rumble in the quiet room. “Just enough to drive you insane, isn’t it? Just enough to remind you that I hold everything you want in the palm of my hand.”

You shudder, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your body arching slightly as you try to press closer to the source of the vibration. The frustration is written all over your face, and it’s beautiful, so beautiful. I watch you, drinking in every inch of your reaction, savouring the power I have over you in this moment.

“You love it,” I whisper, my breath brushing against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. “You love that you can’t control this. That I can make you beg for something as simple as this.”

“Just... do it,” you gasp, your voice trembling with frustration, but there’s still a spark in it, something stubborn. “Stop playing games.”

I chuckle softly, amused by your words. Stop playing games? Oh, but you and I both know that this is the game, and you’re playing it just as much as I am. You’re caught between wanting more and hating that you have to ask for it, and that’s what makes this so deliciously satisfying.

“Is that what you want?” I ask, lowering the vibrator just a little, letting it barely skim the surface of your areola—just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to satisfy. “You think you’re ready for more? You think you deserve it?”

You grit your teeth, trying to stay composed, but I can see the cracks forming. The frustration, the need. It’s all there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“Please…” you whisper, barely audible, and there it is—that hint of desperation I’ve been waiting for.

I smile, triumphant, and press the button to increase the intensity just slightly, letting the vibration pulse more firmly against your breast. 

“That’s better,” I murmur, my voice low, “But I’ll need more than that if you really want it.”

You gasp, your body reacting to the sudden change in sensation, your breath hitching as you bite back another plea. And I know, without a doubt, you’ll give me what I want.

You bite your lip, stifling another sound as the vibrations skate across your skin, and I watch with fascination as you try to maintain your composure. Your chest rises and falls with each laboured breath, but you’re still clinging to that last bit of resistance. You haven’t said it.

The word. The name.

I let the silence stretch out between us, the vibrator humming softly against your nipple, just enough to keep you on edge but nowhere near enough to tip you over it. You know what I want, and I know you’re holding onto it. That delicious defiance. The last weapon you think you have.

But I have all the time in the world.

“You’re holding out,” I murmur, my voice soft, almost a purr. “I can feel it. You’re so close, but you’re fighting it. Why?” I bring my face closer, my breath hot against your neck as I whisper, “You know what will get you what you want.”

You’re fighting me, refusing to give in to the game. I can almost see the wheels turning in your mind—I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Say it,” I murmur, my lips brushing your ear now, the vibration of the toy a steady hum against your skin. “You know what I’m waiting for. Just say it, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Your lips part, and for a second, I think you might give in. But then, through clenched teeth, you growl, “I’m not saying it.”

I raise an eyebrow, amused by your defiance. You’re trying so hard to resist, even though your body is betraying you, trembling under the light touch of the vibrator.

“We both know you want to say it, go on,” I whisper, my voice soft, dark, full of promise. “Say it. Say what I know you’re dying to say.”

You want to give in, but you’re too proud to make it easy. And so, in the smallest, most defiant voice, you mutter, “I don’t need to say it.”

I chuckle softly, shaking my head as I pull the vibrator away for a moment, denying you the one thing you want most. 

“Oh, you’ll say it,” I say, my voice calm, certain. “Because you know that’s how you get what you need.”

I reach down, pressing the button again, increasing the intensity just a little more. I bring it close, hovering over your skin but not quite touching. The tease. The torment.

“You want Daddy to make it better, don’t you?” I finally whisper, my voice almost a growl, low and intimate, right at your ear.

You think you can outlast me. You think your silence is some kind of victory, but I can see right through you. The stubbornness is admirable, really. I almost want to let you hold onto it for a little longer. Almost.

But then again, why deny myself the pleasure of watching you break?

I lower the vibrator back down, this time pressing it directly against your nipple—not the teasing, ghosting touch from earlier, but real contact. You moaned, your body arching against the restraints as the sudden sensation hits you, and I press the button again, increasing the intensity. The vibrations pulse through you, low and constant, just enough to drive you crazy.

To see you this turned on and into it at this early stage makes me want to burst. I continue to tease your nipples with the bullet, making you wriggle with pleasure as you lean your head back into the pillow. I watch your beautiful face intently as the vibrations gently massage your nipples—you look amazing— radiant, sexy, fuckable—and I am so excited to have you in this position—but I am taking my time. 

I want you to be wetter than you have ever been, have more orgasms than you have ever had and have you moaning more than you have ever moaned.

I lean in, my mouth hovering near your ear, my breath hot against your skin. “You’re close to saying it,” I whisper, my voice low, knowing. “I can feel it. You’re just one word away.”

You grit your teeth, trying to hold on—the way they’re starting to lose focus, the way your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. You’re teetering on the edge, and you know it.

I smirk, watching you struggle, your body trembling under the relentless vibrations, your mind fighting the inevitable. 

“Still not saying it?” I ask softly, almost amused. “You think you’re winning by holding out? By staying quiet?”

I tilt my head, studying you, and then my hand moves—slow, deliberate—between your thighs. Whike gently stroking the vibrating bullet down the side of your body, making you wriggle. As I get to your hips, you open your legs further, wanting the vibrations on your clit. I stroke the bullet up from your hip and across the top of your beautifully shaved pubic line, as you thrust your crotch forward, wanting it. 

I resist the urge to give you what you want immediately—instead lightly running the bullet down the side of your pussy, being careful not to touch your luscious pussy lips. I position myself in between your legs as the bullet gets closer and closer to your clit. As it edges nearer, I see your pussy glisten from its wetness—oh my God it looks amazing and I love how you have your legs open, allowing me to see it all. How I want to devour it, again—but there is something you need to say first.

You whimper, your body shaking, your breath ragged. I can feel it—you’re so close to giving in.

And then, just as I feel you start to unravel, I pull back. I stop everything. The vibrator, the pressure—it all stops.

You gasp, your body lurching forward, desperate for the sensation to continue. You try to press closer, try to make contact, but I keep my distance, pulling away just enough to leave you hanging in agonising anticipation.

Your body trembles, your frustration spilling over as you try to catch your breath, and I know you’re about to break. You need this, and you know it.

I lean in, my lips brushing your ear, my voice soft but commanding. “Say it,” I murmured, the final push. “Say it, or I’ll stop this right now. I’ll leave you like this, desperate, aching, with nothing.”

Your breath hitches, and I can see the war playing out in your mind. The defiance, the pride—it’s all crumbling beneath the weight of your need. You’re trembling, your body screaming for more, and you know I have the power to give it to you. But you have to say it.

“Say it,” I repeat, my voice a low growl. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

For a moment, I think you’ll hold out just a little longer. But then, with a trembling breath, you whisper the word, barely audible, the last piece of your pride shattering. The bullet is now hovering just above your clit and I slowly press down—I smile satisfyingly and your legs open up further to reveal your lovely wet pussy.

“Daddy…”

I smile, victorious, and without hesitation, I press the vibrator back against you, harder this time, increasing the intensity, my hand moving in sync with the relentless pulse.

“There we go,” I murmur, my voice dark and satisfied. “Good girl.”

The sight is driving me mad—but I am focused on giving you as much pleasure as you can handle. I slowly rub it up and down your clit as the vibrations run through you. You slowly lift your hips forward, wanting the vibrations lower down, which I oblige. The bullet is edging closer to your glistening pussy—but then I reach across and spread your beautiful lips apart with my fingers—and start to brush the bullet up one and then down the other, in circular motions. This is driving you wild as it edges closer to entering you. I move the bullet down ever so slightly so it is resting, waiting to go in—but then move it all the way up to your clit.

The fact you don't know what's coming next is driving you mad—which makes you look even sexier, if that is possible. You’re at the mercy of what comes next, and the fact that you can’t predict it is pushing you to the edge. You hate it, don’t you? But it also pulls you in. It makes you irresistible.

I go to the next level of vibrations and flick the bullet down from your clit, entering you ever so slightly and then move it back up to your clit, vibrating all of your core. As I do this, you open your legs further, now fully relaxed and turned on and let out a sexy moan—wanting more and more. 

All that fight, all that defiance, just to end up here? It’s almost poetic. It makes me wonder—how will you explain this to your friends? Will you tell them how easily you gave in, how all that stubbornness melted away? Or will you keep this secret tucked away, something only we’ll know?

For the first time, you try to move your arms down to control the pleasure—but then realise you are tied up and I am in control, and let your arms drop behind agan. It's at this point it is time to take it up a level.

You've always been a freak, haven’t you? I saw the signs, the little hints you thought were so subtle. Makes me wonder if this whole act—the defiance, the resistance—is just your way of pretending you aren’t begging for it. You don’t want control, not really. You want to be pushed to the edge, and I’m more than happy to take you there.

I turn the bullet off, giving you some relief from the pleasure for a few seconds - then lean forward and kiss the inside of your left thigh—moving across to the right thigh—but pause over your wet pussy—my mouth just millimeters from your glistening lips—and let out a breath of excitement that you can feel—then move to your right thigh and kiss the inside.

Jesus—if only you could see yourself right now. I almost want to take a video, something to remember this by, a little keepsake of how you look when you finally let go. And then I remember… your phone’s already in my pocket.

I hover over you, taking my time, savoring the moment. With careful precision, I pull it out and position the phone in just the right angle, the best view of you—completely vulnerable, completely mine.

Maybe you’ll watch this back later. Maybe you’ll see yourself the way I see you now—completely undone, stripped of that defiance you cling to so desperately. It’ll be a reminder, a little piece of this moment that you can never escape. And I’ll watch you realise, all over again, how much you need me.

You shift beneath me, your breath shaky, and then, through the haze of tension, your voice breaks the silence. “What are you doing?” The blindfold makes your tone sharper, more vulnerable—unsure of what’s coming next.

You can’t see me, but I know you’re feeling everything. “Tell me,” you whisper, almost a demand, though your voice trembles at the edges. Even blindfolded, you’re still trying to cling to some control.

“Is that how you ask?” I reply, my voice calm, but with that edge of authority you’re trying so hard to ignore. You tense, knowing exactly what I’m getting at, but you’re stubborn, always trying to hold onto that last bit of control.

I lean in closer, my breath warm against your ear. “You know what I want to hear. Try again.”

Your lips twitched what I think is annoyance, “Daddy, please tell me what you’re doing.”

I lean in, my breath barely brushing your ear, “You want to know what I’m doing? I’m setting your phone right here,” I say, patting the bedside table. “Perfectly positioned. Just in case you want to watch this later—see how you look when you let go.”

You shift beneath me, tense, trying to decipher every sound, every movement. “I want you to remember exactly what happens next,” I continue, my fingers trailing lightly down your side. “Because you asked for this. And now, you’ll get exactly what you deserve.”

You are aching for more—so I reach for the wand, turn it on and apply it directly to your clit, sending new sensations through your body. I am moving the wand back and forth from your clit to your juicy pussy, vibrations covering all of you. As I move it all around your beautiful pussy, I can hear and see how wet you are. The circular motion around all of your pussy is taking you to orgasm—but then I stop suddenly, and you catch your breath. 

“No!” you shouted. “Don’t stop. Oh, God.” 

I pressed a kiss to your thigh. “Beg me, sweetheart. Beg me to make you come.” 

“Why are you doing this to me? You fucking psychopath!” 

I know you were right there, hovering on the edge, air sawing in and out of your lungs. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. You wanted to claw my face with your fingernails. I know you’re wanting to crawl into my lap and ride my cock to orgasm. 

“Those are not the words. Try again. “Say it and I’ll let you come.”

It is now time to up it again, so I squeeze some pleasure gel in my hand and smother the top of the wand in it. I then grab the bullet and rub more pleasure gel on that too. I now have the wand in one hand and the bullet in the other both vibrating and ready to make you cum. I press the wand gently onto your clit as the bullet slowly enters you, making you take a deep breath and blurt out

“Fuck, Daddy—Please make me come.”

From the look on your face and the words coming out of your mouth, I know you are in ecstasy and it makes my cock throb so much. I ask you to tell me how it feels and you say ‘Amazing, Daddy, please don't stop, I love it.’ Your words and sounds as you take the pleasure turn me on so much.

My eyes darted towards the camera, my eyes communicating: Are you watching? Do you hear yourself?

Your legs are fully open now as I continue to work the bullet in and out of you slowly and the wand on your clit. You are so wet so I decide to switch things up—I take the bullet and gently rub it up and down your clit whilst pointing the wand directly at your pussy. I start to slowly push the wand head against your pussy lips and flick it up and down, the dual vibrations sending you into a frenzy. Oh my God—you look sensational, irresistible—I am in total ecstasy just watching your reactions to the vibrating and your orgasms. 

Your legs, spread apart more, trembling mote, and as I slowly pull the bullet back, your pussy pushes it out and a squirt of your juices shoot out at me. I bet you heard yourself yelling as if from a distance, the high so unbelievably good, better than any drug you'd ever tried. It seemed to go on for days but was probably only seconds. As you came down, the shame crept in to replace the euphoria.

I have never heard or seen you do this before and it makes me even harder, if that is possible. It's like unwrapping a gift that you didn’t even know you wanted, but suddenly can’t imagine living without. I almost want to thank you for the privilege—almost. But that would ruin the moment, wouldn't it?

I slowly start to pull the bullet back again, and it happens again—your beautiful pussy pushes out the bullet and squirts your juices all over my hand. I can now see a wet patch underneath you, which drives me wild. The sight of you orgasming, squirting and gushing is almost too much. I wave the wand all around your soaking wet pussy, juices gushing out of you as I do. I turn the bullet and wand off and just sit there looking at your pulsating and dripping wet pussy and then your gorgeous face as you recover. I am in total awe—

I glance down at the mess you’ve made, my lips curling into a slow, almost proud smile. “Well, would you look at that,” I murmur, teasing, with a hint of mockery. “Miss perfect, always so put together, now completely… undone.”

I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, enjoying the way you squirm at the sound of my voice. “It’s almost impressive, really. I never thought you’d let things get this messy. But here you are, all flustered and out of sorts. Makes me wonder if you secretly like it this way.”

I chuckle softly, pulling back just enough to see the reaction play out on your face. “And honestly? I think it's kind of adorable. Watching you, of all people, fall apart like this.”

I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. “I guess being a messy girl suits you.”

You grit your teeth, your voice dripping with frustration as you snap, “Fuck you.” The words hit the air like you’re hoping they’ll cut me, but all I feel is amusement curling in my chest, that familiar, sick satisfaction.

“Ooo, fuck me, huh?” I echo, my voice dripping with mockery, like I’m savoring the taste of your defiance. “That’s adorable. Are you giving me hints?”

You growl in frustration, the sound barely contained, your annoyance bubbling over. I laugh softly, watching you struggle against the moment. “Oh, don’t be mad. I’m just trying to keep up with your subtle suggestions,” I tease, raising an eyebrow. “But I guess someone’s a little touchy, aren’t they?”

The frustration in your eyes behind the black silk only makes the moment sweeter. You’re trying so hard to fight, to stay defiant, but I can see right through it. And it’s entertaining.

Without breaking my smirk, I glance over at the camera on the bedside, locking eyes with it for a moment, letting the weight of this moment be captured.

I turn my gaze back to you, the satisfaction in my smile only deepening. “See? It’s all right here, caught on tape. You’ll thank me for it later.”

I move myself upwards, leaning over you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you pant, every breath shaky and uneven. My fingers trace gently across your cheek, I lean in slowly, my lips hovering just above yours, my breath mingling with yours. I intend for it to be gentle, just a small taste of power, but then—you moved.

You push upward, taking control of the kiss, pulling me into it with a hunger I didn’t expect. For a split second, I freeze, caught off guard by the way you turn the tables, the way stuck your tongue down my throat passionately. 

You’re not just reacting. You’re taking.

I am taken aback as I thought you were recovering but then you whisper in my ear, “I need your cock in my mouth whilst you fuck me with the rabbit.” 

Insatiable. 

I’m frozen, my mind racing to catch up with what I just heard.

“Oh my god…” I murmur, half to myself, the disbelief quickly melting into a slow, satisfied smile. I pull back, just enough to look at you, the amusement and intrigue sparking in my eyes.

I shake my head slightly, chuckling. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?” I pause, before I lean in close again, my voice dropping to a low whisper.

“But if you want that…” I tease, my lips brushing against your ear, “you’re going to have to say the magic word.” My smirk deepens, waiting for that final surrender. 

“Daddy,” you drawled so seductively, “Please put your cock in my mouth, I want to suck it while I come.” 

Music to my ears.

I lean forward and kissed you again, sucking on your tongue. I can see that you want your hands free to feel me, you can hear me unzipping my jeans, the sound of it makes you writhe with excitement—but no, you don’t get to have that privilege yet.

I move to the side of you, on my knees and reach back to get the rabbit, gently stroking it down your chest, in between your tits. As I get near your pussy, I squeeze some pleasure gel all over it and then turn it on, the ears and the shaft vibrating on the lowest setting. I rub the tip downwards on your clit, you tilt your head up as I move forward on my knees and your mouth is already open, waiting for it. 

Whilst you are waiting to taste my throbbing rock-hard cock, I slide the rabbit down further, gliding across your wet pussy lips and then I reposition it so the tip is resting against your pussy, ready and waiting to enter you.

As I move my hips forward slowly and my cock starts to enter your eager mouth, I do the same with the rabbit inside your pussy. Inch by inch my cock feels your mouth as the rabbit fills you. The slow rhythm of my cock sliding to the back of your throat and then to the edge of your lips is matched with the rabbit doing the same to your pussy—slow and gentle strokes, all the way in and then all the way out, just resting on your lips. The noises you make as the rabbit enters you fully, the ears vibrating your clit, are sensational and matched by the sight of your mouth wrapped around my cock and arms stretched across the bed, tied helplessly but taking all that I have to give.

You start to speed up sucking my cock, slurping on it, loving it filling your mouth  and this is my queue to match that speed and rhythm with the rabbit—you are so wet that it is gliding in and out of you. All the way in and then out again. Still not fast—but not slow anymore—as you rock your head back and then thrust forward, taking all of me in your mouth. You then slow down and lick around my tip, and I do the same with the rabbit, just the tip rubbing around your open pussy. Then you push forward and take my cock, upto my balls, all the way in your mouth and I slowly push the rabbit all the way in you—as far as it can go, the ears in perfect position to stimulate your clit again. You hold me there in your mouth, not moving at all, and I do the same with the rabbit. This is so passionate and sexy—I could shoot my cum down your throat now—but no way. 

I continue to match your speed and rhythm with the rabbit, letting you have some control. But now it's time for me to take that control back—and taste your smooth, shaven, delicious pussy. So I slowly and gently slide the rabbit out of you as I also pull my cock out of your mouth. As both leave you, you let out the most gorgeous and sexy moan, and—

Was that a smile?

Oh, I saw it. You tried to hide it, but there it was, slipping through for just a moment. And honestly? That’s a huge turn-on. 

I move to the end of the bed, in between your legs, my mouth inches away from your amazing pussy. I can't tell you how gorgeous it is—the mere sight of it makes me want to come. I push your knees as far apart as they can go to admire your soaking wet pussy. I can see your clit bulging, wanting attention. I can see your lips slightly spread apart and shining from your wetness. I follow your lips down, drinking in this magnificent sight —until my eyes lock on to your pussy, which is aching to be filled.

I slowly edge my mouth close to you, and then take one giant lick, from the bottom of your pussy to the top, with the whole of my tongue.

“Oh my f—uck,” you arched wildly against the restraints. You’re so sensitive now, “Bucky—Daddy. . .”

"Please," you whisper, your voice shaky, hesitant, like you’re not sure if you should even say it. But you do. And it’s music to my ears, “I want you. . .”

I tilt my head slightly, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Oh, baby,” I murmur, my tone dripping with amusement, “you want me? I think I need a little more than that.”

I watch you squirm, enjoying every second of your hesitation, savoring the way you’re trying so hard to find the right words. “Come on now,” I add, my voice soft but laced with command. “I need to hear exactly what you want. You’re already begging—why stop there?”

I chuckle lightly, leaning in closer. “Let’s not play shy now, not after how far you’ve come.”

Using my thumb and finger on each side, I prize open your pussy lips. You are so open and I can see you pulsating. You push your buttocks into the mattress, which elevates your pussy ever so slightly—meaning my tongue is at the exact height and pointing directly at you. 

“Your cock daddy. . .please, I need to feel you inside me.”

I chuckle, “Soon, my good girl.”

I push my head forward until my tongue enters your pussy, your juices flowing out either side of my tongue. They taste amazing as they ooze into my mouth. I didn’t stop, either, fucking you with his tongue, growling as I held your legs open as wide as they would go. 

“You are so wet,” he snarled. “I fucking love it!” 

“So good,” you muttered, long past the point of coherence. “Yes, it’s so good.”

The corners of your mouth lifting as you let out a satisfying smile, your hands gripping the slack length of the restraights tightly. The whole sight of you, as well as your wetness and taste is utopia—I never want this to end.

× × × ×

YOUR POV

After a few more thrusts of his tongue, he shifted to you clit, but there was no teasing this time. He licked you ruthlessly, relentlessly, until you began shaking, your hips rocking as you chased a second orgasm. You nearly levitated off the bed when it finally crested, your body splintering apart into a million pieces, destroyed. 

“James!” You screamed his name and strained against the ties holding you down as it went on and on, wave after wave of white-hot bliss.

The sudden yank of the blindfold pulls you from the haze you’ve been drowning in. Light filters in slowly, and your vision, still blurry from the darkness, begins to sharpen. The world starts to come into focus, and your eyes immediately lock onto him.

Bucky came up on his knees and began furiously jerking his cock, eyes hooded, mouth hanging open as he grunted. His gaze locked on your swollen pussy until his movements grew uncoordinated, his hips stuttering, and hot jets lashed all over your belly and chest. Like he was marking you. 

Oh my god—did the camera catch that?

He squeezed to get every drop of come out of his dick and onto your body, then sat on his haunches, chest heaving. You were covered in him, the liquid cooling on your bare flesh. Pleasured and used by the last man you should ever be attracted to.

Now he was stroking his dick again, the muscles in his arm flexing as he pumped that giant rod between his legs. God, he had a gorgeous cock and you felt an answering tug in your lower half.

You watched his fist squeeze the head of his cock. A bead of moisture appeared on the tip and he used his thumb to smear it all over the head. You inadvertently licked your lips, missing his taste, and waves of heat rolled through your limbs, settling in your core.

“You like watching me work my cock?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, as if he already knows the answer.

“No.” you said stubbornly.

He tilts his head slightly, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. “I’m starting to think no means yes.”

Bucky moves closer, and despite every ounce of stubbornness in you, your body betrays you again. It’s like your body is inviting him, reacting on instinct, craving what your mind is still refusing to admit. Your pussy was swollen, slick. Primed for sex.

“Deschide larg picioarele pentru mine. Mică târfă.” You heard Bucky growl in his throat.

“What?”

“Open your legs wide for me, little slut.”

God, you wanted to hate him for that, but a blast of heat tore through you. 

“Jesus,” you whispered as you widened your legs slightly. “You’re such a dick.” 

“Hmm. Do you like to be called names, Y/N?” He let go of his cock and placed his hands on either side of his hips, displaying himself for you. “Do you like your hair pulled? Do you like to wear a man’s come on your face?”

Shit, when he asked those things in his low Romanian-accented voice, it sounded like pure sex. No doubt Bucky fucked like a beast, rough and dirty. He hadn’t shown you that side of him yet. The men you had been with treated you politely, like you were made of glass. 

“Is that what you like to do to women in bed?”

Ignoring your question, he stared at your body, placing himself between your legs. “I wish you were sitting on my face right now. I would lick you and bite you, suck on your clit until you passed out. I want to pull on your skin with my teeth until it stings, then make you come so hard you squirt all over me.”

You stared at his wide cock, which jutted out proudly from his body, bobbing in his movement, with its smooth skin and veins along the side. You imagined that thickness drilling inside you, splitting you in half and filling you up. Your pussy clenched around the emptiness and you moaned.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” 

You licked your lips as you stared at his erection, too turned on to lie. 

“Yes.” Bucky raised his brows, “. . .Daddy.”

He grabbed himself again, strong fingers wrapping around the shaft as he pulled, teasingly rubbing his head against your tender pussy.

“I would fuck you so good. Deep and hard. I would give you all my come, everything I am saving up in my balls just for you.” 

“God, don’t you ever shut up?” Your legs were shaking, your movements uncoordinated because you were so turned on. So close. So needy. 

“And you’ll take it, yes?” he continued, clearly not caring that this was a one-sided conversation. “I have never seen a woman so hungry for it. Didn’t those boys in Hollywood know how to fuck you? I bet they left you unsatisfied.”

Fuck why is he dragging this out so much?!

Hands resting on your thighs, you began crooning, “Can’t you see how wet I am, Daddy? Can you see how turned on I am by watching you jerk that big cock of yours? I bet you have to use lube when you fuck, you’re so big. Do the women scream when you’re pounding inside them? Do you make them bleed, leave their pussies raw?”

“That fucking mouth,” Bucky murmurs, a low, satisfied growl escaping as a slow grin spreads across his face. The crown of his dick dragged against your entrance, teasing, and you actually tilted your hips, eager for the invasion. “That’s it. You’re ready for me.” 

You were beyond denial, beyond caring. “Yes,” you admitted to him. 

“Show me. Take me inside.”

This was so dirty. So wrong. Yet your body was humming, almost burning alive with lust. There was an embarrassing amount of wetness between your legs, more than you would’ve thought possible considering the circumstances.

You adjusted your hips, seeking, and the head of his cock slipped inside you. Fuck, yes. You didn’t stop, continuing to rock your hips, writhing underneath him, to bring him deeper. You were wild for it, desperate to reach the finish, toward the explosive orgasm you knew awaited you. 

“Shh,” he said in your ear. “I’ll give you what you need.”

He took over then, but pressed in much slower than you expected. The beginning had been about domination and strength, but now he invaded so carefully, like he wanted you to feel every twitch and tiny movement. 

This was almost seduction, and it was worse than the chaos of moments ago. But there was no stopping it. You craved this, needed it. With a growl, he gave a final thrust of his hips and filled you completely, and the air left your lungs in a rush. He was hot and hard and so big, his dick impaling you, with the heavy weight of his body and restraints preventing you from moving. All you could do was lie there and take it. 

Which made it a thousand times hotter. 

“Fuck,” he said on a long exhale, then whispered a long string of another language that sounded both bewildered and excited.

Ragged breaths gusted against your cheek as he began to move, his hips meeting your pelvis. “You are mine, Y/N. Until I decide otherwise this pussy belongs to me.”

You couldn’t respond, because his dick was destroying you in the very best way. You loved the way he felt inside you, like there was no room for anything else. No insecurities or worries, no past or future. Just this, right here. Perspiration coated your skin and he surrounded you, his cock pounding, pounding, pounding into your body. The pleasure built and you closed your eyes, focusing on the orgasm just out of reach.

The sounds of skin slapping and heavy breathing filled the room. He fucked you like it was his purpose in life, completely dedicated to the task and never slowing down for a second. With every savage thrust you slid a little on the mattress, and you were so close to coming, your muscles clenching and straining . . . . 

“You belong to me. Say it, doll.” 

The words twisted inside you, driving you higher, and the walls of your pussy contracted around his cock. 

“Fuck!” he grunted. “Do that again.”

You squeezed around him once more, and he groaned. “Tell me. Let me hear you say it.” 

His fingers slid between your body and the mattress, moving lower until he found your clit. He rubbed you in tight circles. “Let me hear you say you belong to me.” 

The words fell from your mouth on a gasp. “I belong to you, Daddy.” 

Everything changed. He rode you even harder, without mercy, his fingers never leaving your clit, “Vino pentru mine, mica mea curvă frumoasă.”

Come for me, my beautiful little slut.

The combination of the words along with the stimulation became too much. Shocks raced up from your toes as the orgasm rushed over you. Your brain went offline, everything going blank for a long moment as the euphoria transported you into space. 

“God, yes! Oh, fuck,” you heard yourself shout from far away while you shook uncontrollably. When your climax finally ebbed, he moved to his knees, releasing your legs from the restraints and lifted your hips to change the angle. 

“Yes! Shove it deep, come inside me, Daddy.”

It allowed him deeper, and after a few pumps he swelled inside you, his hips stuttering just before hot jets of come filled your pussy. 

“Oh fuck, ah!” he roared, his fingertips sinking into your flesh. No doubt you would be covered in bruises tomorrow. That should’ve horrified you, but it didn’t. After a moment, his movements slowed but he kept rocking, his dick still pulsing inside you. 

“Take it all, baby,” he crooned and lowered to kiss your chest spine. “Take all of my come. You earned it. Ești o fată atât de bună.” 

You’re such a good girl.

Fuck, you wished he would stop saying things like that. You flushed from head to toe and basked in the praise. He continued peppering your skin with kisses, displaying a tenderness you hadn’t expected. You melted like hot candle wax on the floor.

“Ești frumoasă,” he murmured as he dropped kisses along your chest. “Ești perfectă.”

You’re so beautiful. You’re perfect.

You felt butterflies in the deepest pit of your stomach. You’re not supposed to like that but you do.

Big hands swept up your back and you felt free from your restraints completely and then over your hip as he lifted you, angling your face toward his. 

“I need you,” he whispered and kissed you.

You fell into the kiss eagerly, softening for him and letting him take your mouth. You could feel his urgency, his desperation, and it fed your own. His fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair to hold you in place as his tongue and lips devoured you. 

The kiss went on and on, and your body responded as it always did to this man, your pussy getting more wet and swollen. You loved the way he kissed, with such absolute force and reverence. Like he longed to destroy and cherish you at the same time. Your skin crawled with need, a thousand pinpricks that made you feel alive and powerful. Bold, as if you could do anything. 

You decided to take a risk. You flipped it around so now you’re on top. You started moving your hand south, over his ribs and down his abs. His mouth broke off from yours and he waited, his breath coming fast. He didn’t stop you, so you continued toward his crotch, and your palm skimmed his sweat-slick muscles. 

He was glorious, a marble statue came to life. 

You found his cock, thick and hard against his belly, and you gave it a gentle brush, a tease, before continuing to his balls. He grunted when you rolled and squeezed their weight with your fingers. Most men loved to have their balls played with, and Bucky was no different. 

He spread his thighs to give you more room and you caressed him, exploring. When your hand swept the length of his dick, he jerked and rocked his hips, silently asking for more. You stroked him slowly and he exhaled against your cheek, strong fingers digging into your skin, the room quiet except for both your breathing. 

You liked having him at your mercy for a change. Your lower half began to throb as you worked him. You knew what it was like to have this big dick inside you and your pussy was weeping for it. You weren't sure he’d allow you on top, but you really wanted to ride him just this once.

You slid your leg over his hips to straddle him. He held onto your waist and the feel of all his strength and power beneath you made your mouth water. His gaze was locked on your pussy as you grabbed his cock and lined him up at your entrance. You began feeding him inside, sinking down slowly, loving the stretch and burn as he took up all the space in your body. 

“Fuck, James,” You whispered, his full name falling from your lips while you paused to let yourself adjust. 

“Da, frumoasa mea fetiță,” he said softly, “Take me inside.”

A rush of arousal went through your core and he slid deeper. You gasped, hovering between pleasure and pain, and his thumb found your clit, rubbing and pressing. Tingles cascaded along the backs of your thighs, through your belly, and soon he was fully seated. 

Goddamn, he was a lot. 

You began slowly moving your hips, sliding his dick in and out of you while grinding on his pelvis. You clit dragged between you at the end of every stroke, and it sent streaks of white-hot need along your bloodstream. Though the room was dark, you locked eyes with him, and you could see the new arousal and possessiveness staring up at you. This felt so real. So intimate. Like he could see inside you, past all your deepest insecurities to your very soul. This is what he wanted.

You focused on your pleasure and churned your hips, loving the way his length tunnelled in and out of your channel, the friction unbelievably good. You tossed your hair and arched your back, giving him a show as you rode him. 

“God, yes,” you moaned. “I want to do this all day.” 

“Feel how hard I am?” His whisper filled your head like smoke, taking you higher. “That is all for you. Just you, comoara mea.”

The unguarded hunger and lust in his expression spurred you on, so you moved faster, and the bliss soon built and coiled inside you like a spring. When you placed your hands on his chest for leverage you half-expected him to shove you off, take over, and pin you to the mattress. Surprisingly he didn’t, so you dug your nails into his flesh, holding on as you continued to fuck him. 

“Oh, shit.” you eyes slammed shut. You were so close, the orgasm was right there. 

“Look at me,” he said sharply. “Look at me while you use my dick to get off.”

You did as he commanded, so you were staring at one another when you started to come a second later. The orgasm swept through you like a tsunami, waves and waves that chased everything else away. 

Your mind went blank, his beautiful face your only anchor as you trembled and shook. The walls of your pussy squeezed him in rhythmic pulses and his lips parted on a hiss. 

Before you’d even come down, he lifted you slightly and began pounding up from below. His feet were braced on the mattress, and each powerful thrust rocked the bed and sent the headboard into the wall with a bang. 

Bending, you placed your face directly above his, your mouths inches apart. You were close enough to feel his breath as he grunted and huffed. You don’t know what made me say it, but you started talking. 

“That’s it, daddy. Give me all of your come. Every bit of it, deep inside. Make me your good girl.”

“Fuck!” His body went taut beneath you, and you could feel him swell just before he flooded your insides again with hot lashes of his come. He held you still, his fingers clamped around your hips so hard you knew you’d have bruises to add to the collection. 

“You are mine,” he ground out, his big body jerking beneath you.

Finally he sagged into the bed. You tried to catch your breath, your body sprawled on top of him like a rag doll. He was still inside you, and you could feel our sticky mess leaking out of you as he softened. 

He stared at the ceiling, arms wide, chest heaving, while sweat rolled down his temples and into his thick dark hair. You both stayed like that for a long time, neither of you speaking. You didn’t have a clue as to what to say. You felt destroyed in the very best way.

He dragged a hand down his face. Gently rolling you off to his side.

“Soak in the hot tub,” he said and pushed to his feet. “Otherwise you will be sore later.”

He didn’t help you up or even look in your direction. Instead, he jerked on some clothes and walked out of the bedroom, leaving you on the bed. Naked, filled with his come, and unshackled.

Your body still tingles from the aftershocks as you reach over to the bedside table, your hand trembling slightly as you grab your phone. Bucky had placed it there earlier, so casually, like it was just part of the routine. But now, the weight of it feels different, heavier.

You swipe the screen, the familiar glow illuminating the dimly lit room. Your thumb hovers for a second before you press play. The video begins, and there you are—captured in the heat of the moment, vulnerable, raw.

You feel a strange mixture of curiosity and disbelief watching yourself like this, seeing everything from a perspective that isn’t your own. Your breath catches in your throat as the sound of his voice, low and commanding, fills the room again. Each word, each movement, feels magnified, more intense than you remember.

As the video plays, you notice the moment when Bucky shifts, his gaze no longer on you but directly into the camera. That smirk, the one you’ve seen a thousand times, is aimed at the lens—not at you. For a second, it’s as if he’s performing for the camera, not for you, and the realisation sends a shiver down your spine.

He knew. He knew you’d be watching this later, knew exactly how it would feel for you to see him like this, his eyes focused on the camera while you were completely unaware. The deliberate way he captured the moment, not just for you but for himself too, is unsettling—and somehow, impossibly, it draws you in even more.

It was all planned. A reminder that even in the heat of it, Bucky was always one step ahead.

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: xu minghao

enemies to lovers

'you're not mine but wouldn't you want to be?'

minghao tries is hardest to stay calm but all these higher ups are making it really hard. he turns to look at you and the sight of your hunched back and bitten raw lips makes him boil. are you two friends? no, far from it. minghao is very aware of the whole 'enemies' agenda that is happening between you both, but does he want to see you like this? nervous, agitated, scared? no. fucking hell, no. he wants to see you burning with passion, wants to see that fire in your eyes whenever you two argue - minghao feels like he's been punched in the chest when he realizes that he's ready to kill just for you to not look this scared.

'can we wrap this up?' he voices out loud, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 'i don't see any point in this.'

'it'd be wise for you to be more polite and remember who you are talking to, xu minghao.'

he sees how you cringe at this, how your hands ball up into fists at the way that man spoke to him. understanding that you are angered on his behalf warms minghao up; it feels incredibly nice to know that you care. he keeps his mouth shut, lets managers drag on about the issue and takes two step in your direction, stopping when your shoulders brush. you tense up at first, sending him a questioning glance but he only stays put to which you reply with a rejected sigh. they lecture him and then start lecturing you and minghao can't just stand still when you're obviously fuming. they are being rude to you and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through: 'don't talk to her like that.' your sharp intake of breath kind of wakes him up and he stares ahead at all the managers, who all look shell shocked.

'you have no right to talk to her like that.' minghao pushes in a clipped tone. 'she did her best and so did i, our timing got fucked up but it's not our fault. don't speak to her in that tone.'

shortly after you get pulled away by other people and minghao is in for another 30 minutes of lecturing. by the time he finally gets out of that stuffy room, he feels like he wasted ten years of his life on nothing. he sighs, stretches and is about to turn when soft steps stop him. he knows it's you even before you call out his name.

'why did you do that?' you ask, squinting at him. 'why the sudden hero act?'

'it wasn't an act,' he says, rolling his eyes. god, he's so tired. 'but you're welcome.'

'i haven't asked for it,' you spit out, obviously angered. 'i don't need your pity.'

minghao turns around, raising his eyebrow. 'i have never pitied you,' he says strongly, feeling himself getting worked up again as some stupid side effect on you being close. 'can't you just say 'thank you' and move on?'

'i don't need your help!' you hiss. 'i haven't asked for it!'

and - only you can make minghao want to both bang his head on the wall from frustration and laugh like a maniac. he sometimes wants to step closer, pull you into his arms and... he doesn't know. part of him wants to strangle you for being so damn difficult all the fucking time, but another part wants to smash your mouths together so you can finally shut up. minghao is aware of how unhealthy it is just as he is aware of how often your gaze falls on his lips or his biceps. it's good to know he's not the only one who's gone mad. they say it's a fine line between hatred and love and for minghao right now this line is so thin that he barely see it anymore. is it the same for you? he wants to ask, but instead he says: 'why you didn't stop me then? you always could just interrupt me over there but you didn't say a thing. if you don't need my help why i was the one who you turned to when authorities came? you didn't say anything but you searched for me with your eyes, don't even try to deny it.'

five steps. that's the distance that separates you two and minghao thinks it's fitting. he can take two and then you can take two and then maybe you'll play game of chicken on that last step. but you surprise him with taking all those five steps yourself, storming onto him with fire in your eyes that he loves so much. 'you're not the one to talk, minghao. you think i don't know that it was you who asked everyone to wait up for me? who brought medicine to my team when i fell sick?' you try to push him on his chest but minghao easily catches you wrist in his, not letting you move. 'let me go.'

'that's not what you want.' he says in a calm tone that doesn't show all the hurricane which's happening inside of him.

reality of how close you two are standing dawns on you. jerkily, you try to step back but his hold on you is too strong. 'let me go,' you whisper, voice wavering. 'hao, let me go.'

hao. 'that's not what you want,' minghao whispers and lets his other hand wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. 'tell me what you really want, angel.' he sees how you shudder at the petname and smiles, leaning in. he lets go of your wrist, locking his arms around you instead. 'you can go if you want.' he leans in, brushing your noses together. 'or you can stay. and i can never, ever let you go. which i think is what you actually want.'

it's brave. it's bold, it's brazen and - it works. your body sags in his arms and you hide your face in his neck, hugging him back. 'prick,' you mutter into his neck, raising goosebumps where your lips touch his skin. 'self absorbed asshole.'

'yeah,' minghao easily agrees, hugging you tighter. 'prick, self absorbed asshole that i will never, ever let you go.'

a/n: this one is a bit vague but i couldn't figure out how to write this for the live of me. i hope this was okay? let me know! - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[neechees]

https://www.tumblr.com/baconvonmoose/762184790376136704/thank-you-look-i-know-people-mean-well-i-do-im?source=share

Reading all this and that's the first time ever I've seen someone say this about W*nd***.

Thought to bring this to your attention

I've always said that you'll get differing opinions about the Ice Cannibal because different groups might have differing opinions & protocol on the spirit on who can or can't say it or when, and like I've always specified I prefer it when people dont say it around ME.

But I'm kind of suspicious about this random user coming and saying "well I'm Native American" because of the way they're speaking. They say they're "a subdivision of the Algonquin" like there's no "subdivision" of the Algonquin UNLESS they're claiming to be of the Algonquin TRIBE and trying to talk about their specific community, but they don't specify it, and they seem to be equating Algonquin with Algonquian (a Language FAMILY), which is something a lot of Moniyawak & pretendians do.

Also, there's no "my tribe told the first version of the wend!g0 myth" like they claim they are, because again, multiple tribes believe in this spirit, and it'd be stupid & unfair to try claim authority on it for "the first" because we don't know who was "the first".

This user also claims that "it's a spirit that can possess people so it can look like anyone you know", I've talked with other ndns about this and there's even some debate over whether this "possession" thing is even true, at least for some tribes, because settlers were using this excuse to go and execute multiple Native people under the premise that they were "possessed" by a cannibal spirit (and how often do you think White people back then gave a shit about our spiritualities?). In many tribes, including mine, I know the ice cannibal is a spirit that exists in its own right but that also humans can turn into one.

This person is just acting like a jackass and doesn't seem to hang around other actual Native Americans who believe in our religions, because of the way they're talking, but want to act like an authority on our spiritualites. They don't even want to acknowledge that maybe they heard the "we don't say it" variation because of different beliefs in different tribes. Them calling everything I just mentioned fucking "misinformation" is itself misinformation, and completely fucking unfair of them. And the ice cannibal spirit isn't even the only spirit we do this with. We don't just avoid saying its name out of fear, it's also out of respect and protocol.

I've also never seen this person on ndn tumblr, & they don't seem to have an "ndn" tag. This might be a case of a White person suddenly claiming Native heritage to get in on a conversation that isn't theirs to have. With the way they're acting, talking about Native spirituality, etc, this sounds more like a White person with maybe some Native ancestry who doesn't actually hang around other ndns just trying to be an authority on something they have no fucking clue on & that they got all their information from white websites, because virtually everything they said was wrong.

[lk0727]

I'm crying because I love the idea of correspondence between the students leaving next year and I'd love to see more of it. The white day cards are so cute that I just want to elaborate (hc) on handwriting and maybe even writing quirks. Just Malleus (for now...)

Malleus would be really interested in how his partner writes, it's all so fascinating to him and he's a pattern noticer. The noticerrrr. And he sees so much that he even finds himself compiling all the repetitive actions you take when writing -not just what you're writing, and brings them to you to discuss further. The way you slant letters, when your pen lets up, if you type then the frequency of paragraph breaking, how you insert images, etc. I think it'd be something like "Did you know you tend to smudge the paper when you reach the furthest margin, are you perhaps left-handed? Oya, you are? I knew that to be the case." He says with a slight smile and downturned gaze because he knows he ate that. Sherlock Horns.

He would get overzealous about the fact that you're only a word away and would immediately call you with his archaic phone and pester you until you receive it. His Correspondence wouldn't actually be a surprise because you are usually visited by a heavy knock on your door and fae appropriate fanfare when it arrives, that's just etiquette when writing royalty. But, he always calls you the day he receives it so that you know he shall be returning post haste and he intends to dazzle you. In fact, you'll spend so long speaking to each other about what was written to him, that when you finally get his response, it's more or less just recapping what you spoke of two days prior. He can't hide his giddyness, even if he keeps a cool baritone while on the phone. Because you're a kind person, you pretend that his tail happily thumping against the ground is inaudible, because you know he can't help it.

He is going to surprise you by the emojis he uses because WHO taught you that!?!? He learned these from Cater and Lilia, but he doesn't change the way he speaks. It's "Good evening, How have you've been? The summer season of Briar Valley is particularly exhausting and hot💧, I am very bothered by the heat of it all.🥵🥵" and when Lilia intercepts it, he's like "that's a perfect sentence, go ahead and send it. Actually, one note, send more sweating emojis, it's really hot this summer, right?"

Your messages go through a diverse array of moderators and middle men. Those people being his Grandmother, who reminds him that he's a prince, Lilia and Silver (the two who initially opened the letter, and finally his transcriber and narrator, Sebek who scoffs at the quality of the smut you're peddling his young master, who shouldn't even be hearing this, but he'll read on against his better judgement. (It's literally benign, the furthest thing from smut, Malleus argues). His letters would look a little like this:

21.09.19XX Child, It's been nice knowing you.😌 Why do I say that? Since we've met, it seems as if Briar Valley has taken a lead in comedy and our collective temperament could not be more jovial. Your humorous description of your familiar, Grim child, was very well received by my Grandmother, as I was awoken early enough to the sounds of insects humming and birds chirping well into the night to read it aloud to me, guffawing as she spoke. (I apologize, I cannot stop her from opening my mail, but we're working on her problematic behavior, that's a fact.😉) She in particular has asked if she may keep it, you know how older individuals are with their chucklesome cat stories. 🙄 There's this understanding of the world that I just don't possess when it comes to what grabs the attention of the people's comedy, it continues to evade me. For instance, what is the humor of "surprise hot dog 🌭" and why must it be a surprise to be enjoyed? The children of Briar Valley seemingly shout this and end their sentences with it, and I am surprised and annoyed every time. It seems like you have an understanding in the matters of humor, so you are welcome to explain it to me. But I digress, If I sat down and listed to you all the things that escaped me, well, you might find yourself as old as I am by the time we've finished! 🤣The trees and wind must sense the happiness in our friendly union, and have planned accordingly to block out bad weather🌧️ and unforgiving spirits. The weather is nice enough that (forgive me I've overstretched my hand) planned your visit for sooner rather than later. Next time we meet in person, this shall be us ->🕺💃, as I've already made arrangements for a night in a cabaret club in the Capitol for us to partake in. It's a culture so far from the realm of possibility of establishing itself in our quiet little country, that I was astounded when I stumbled across its zoning request permits one day and I rushed to see it in person, paperwork be damned. The smaller fae who perform insist it to be a "cheeky, yet inoffensive showcase of the arts", and after witnessing it for myself, I knew it would be the type of entertainment you'd enjoy.🤫 Even now, it doesn't feel natural to write, like an odd mouth feel that doesn't change as I turn it over and over. A cabaret in Briar Valley, a music club in a quiet kingdom... it's as I've mentioned earlier, Briar Valley has surprisingly given itself wholly to the Joviality of life. Sincerely yours; Malleus Draconia, Heir to Briar Valley p.s Surprise hot dog 🌭

On the other hand, as confident as he is in your responses, he's always a little embarrassed to send something back. It's not fear of his ability, but rather, if you'll care to hear about the day to day of a crown prince who's routine is very boring and full of nothingburger drama. He doesn't understand that his 18 page assessment of his life is literally replacing the cable you can't afford, and when he describes the way the lion prince attacked him during a diplomatic meeting, the colorful language of his response makes you laugh, and then cry, and even gag because "how did he get close enough to gash you!?" You can see the face he's making as he writes this, pouty and angry and even chuckling when he describes the punishment that followed. Just like in his real life, Malleus has a hard time concealing his emotions. He's not shy about who he is as a person, and his writing is not either. The way it flows is a little different from traditional correspondence, if anything, he's sending you disjointed journal entries and prose while also clipping what you send him to respond directly. Your 2 page crapped out response filled with emojis and memes and inside jokes is returned in full by 20 pages of thoughtful dialogue, assessments of politics and fondness of your life, and even sketches of the things around him (okay... just gargoyles and Sebek, but those are things in all fairness.) He has a real zest that he doesn't try to contain, and even his handwriting gives it away. When he's in a good mood, it's very pristine, heavily slanted cursive that his heavy hand oppresses by not dotting his i's or crossing his t's. It's just understood between you two what he means. Likewise, when he's angry or melancholic it's surprisingly very light, almost inelligeble as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. He must be getting up and pacing, because of course he is. When upset or recounting something terrible, his handwriting is unusually neat, funnily enough the sentences are much shorter, as if he's hiding something or thinking long about what should be said next. He's a very wistful person, after all.

Malleus enjoys fine art that seeks to appease the senses and refine beauty, so attached to his letters will often be trinkets like necklaces, earrings, watches, and pocket squares that he found in shops in Briar Valley, or a ticket to a play or music shows that dazzled him. The heavier packages (these tend to come at random) are filled with small desserts, books on the anthropological history of different fae species, woven pieces from more aesthetically competent fae and their fashion, and of course, fragmented pieces of ancient gargoyles he found hiding in deserted rooms of the castle. <- He'll know if you've thrown it away, so hold on to the heavy, weird rock fragment, please.

[enmi-land]

ʬʬʬ 𝓨OUTUBE.COM ▹ NOW PLAYiNG . . .

ⓘ MiLA AND HER FAVOURiTE OPPA . . .

(˶ˆᗜˆ˵) FANMADE ViDEO. #2O24. ꗃ PREViEW A compilation of Mila being babygirl for Jay.

CLIP 1, INTERVIEW

for context: mila and kiara were asked who they thought the most manly member is in the group

“Uhhh, I don’t know about that.” Kiara laughs awkwardly at the idea. “I’m older than almost all of them, and I grew up with Heeseung since we were kids, so it’s hard to say. I don’t really… you know?”

“Ah, fair enough. They’re kind of like younger brothers, right? That would be awkward.” The interview nods in understanding when Kiara confirms. “In that case, what about Mila? Maybe not for the younger members, but you must have thought about your oppas, right?”

“Well…” Mila laughs shyly as her members all turn to face her. “They all have their charms. But when I think of the word ‘masculine,’ the first person I think of is none other than my Jay-oppa.”

The interviewer is surprised when Engenes watching the interview live start to scream at the top of their lungs. “Oooooh! I see—Jay seems very happy about this.”

The focus is now on Jay, who is smiling widely beside Mila while she hides her face behind her hand in embarrassment.

me and the ghost in my room: [*Theo slapping Keeho on the shoulder*]

“Now I’m curious. What makes you pick Jay, of all the members?”

“Well,” Mila says shyly, avoiding Jay’s gaze as he stares softly at her. “Ever since we met, he’s taken very good care of me—not that the other members don’t, but sometimes we have those times where we tease each other and all of that stuff. You know?”

The interviewer nods. “You like to play around, yes? Close friends who tease each other.”

Mila nods strongly. “Exactly like that! Jay-oppa isn’t like that, though. He’s a real gentleman. He’s always very gentle, and soft-spoken, and patient. He’s like the type of person people want their daughters to marry...”

And then Mila proceeds to hide her face behind Jay as Engenes go wild over their interaction. All the while, Jay can’t help the absolutely whipped look on his face as he smiles like an idiot.

[*Close up of Jay*] [“Boy who got you smiling like that?”]

CLIP 2, COMPILATION

to give you an idea of mila’s favouritism, let’s see the difference between mila with each of the 02z mila with jakehoon:

K-NEXT DOOR

“I was watching some of your clips, and I noticed something interesting,” Jonathan says. “Mila, you’re a 03-liner, right?”

Mila blinks. “Yes, that’s right.”

Jonathan turns to Jake. “Jake, you’re a 02-liner.”

Jake nods.

“In that case… Mila—why don’t you call Jake ‘oppa’?”

Mila bursts out laughing as if she’s just heard the funniest thing in her life, before she composes herself and turns to Jonathan. “Well, for one, we’re both foreigners and speak English when we’re alone. I got used to calling him by name, so it feels weird to call him oppa. And for another, it feels weird to call him my oppa when he doesn’t act like one.”

Jake looks at Mila in absolute shock as Jonathan’s jaw drops. Heeseung and Jungwon giggle among themselves, and Jake nods solemnly at the camera with his lips pressed into a thin line.

[*Close up of Jake with raining overlay*] [“Gwenchana, gwenchana, daeng daeng daeng daeng daeng.”]

WEVERSE LIVE

“The other day, I realised that I’m only three months younger than Sunghoonie-oppa,” Mila says all of a sudden. “Isn’t that so weird? I might as well be his friend, but he’s still considered my elder because he’s born in 2002. It’s so unfair…”

Mila pouts as she reads comments. “‘Just don’t call him ‘oppa’?” Mila laughs. “Right. I should just call him ‘Sunghoon-ssi’ from now on, haha. Or ‘Sunghoon-hyung.’ Can you imagine his expression? It would be funny…”

Mila bursts out laughing as she reads a comment.

“‘Just call him Sunghoon’? Yahhh, you’re trying to get me in trouble.” Mila looks thoughtful for a second after she says this. “But then again, I don’t really care if it’s Sunghoonie-oppa. He can just be mad at me, for all I care.”

She leans towards the camera with a cheeky smile.

“Should I do it, everyone?”

spoiler alert: she does it [*Compilation of Mila saying ‘Sunghoon-ssi’*]

[*Close up of Sunghoon’s reactions*] [“I never found you funny, I never found you entertaining—”]

[*Spongebob Narration* ‘Meanwhile’*] mila with jay:

EN-LOG

Mila is in the middle of eating at a restaurant when she receives a call. She looks at her phone to see who it is, and lights up when she sees the contact. She gasps excitedly. “Everyone, it's Jay-oppa!”

She shows her phone to the screen to see the contact which she saved him under: ‘the bestest oppa 😇’

(This is before they even date, mind you.)

[*Close up of Mila’s phone*] “THE BESTEST OPPA” 🤭✨

[*Cardi B squinting* “That’s suspicious, that’s weird.”]

She picks up the call and holds it to hear ear. In a cutesy voice that is out of character for Mila, she leans back in her chair and smiles, completely forgoing her food. “Hello?”

“What are you doing?” Jay asks.

“I’m just having lunch now.” Mila reaches up to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. “How about Oppa?”

mila whenever jay: [*Nayeon tucking her hair behind her ear*]

Jay hums. “That’s good. I came across a new chocolate store just now. I’m going to take a look now. Do you want me to buy you anything?”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa is too good to me ❤️’]

And from there, the two have a sweet phone call, with Mila looking like a giddy teenage girl as she talks.

“Mmm, okay,” Mila says as they reach the end of their call, but not without a pout. “I’ll let you go, then.”

“Get back home safely, okay? Call if you need anything.” Jay’s voice is soft, and Mila is smiling as she assures him that she will do as he says. “You hang up first.”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa, why are you so sweet to me? I’ll cry :(’]

Mila giggles. “Okay, okay. Bye bye~” She still smiles at her phone, even after she hangs up. She then turns to the camera and smiles. “Everyone, isn't my Jay-oppa the sweetest?”

“MY JAY-OPPA” 😫

jakehoon watching this: [“I just wanna be appreciated! I wanna be appreciated!”]

CLIP 3, WEVERSE LIVE

“‘Jay, will you marry me’?!”

[*Boom*]

Mila is flabbergasted after she reads out the comment, and looks up at the camera with a look of absolute incredulous indignation. Jay simply laughs at her expression. “Why, why? What’s with your expression?”

“No!” Mila says with a huff. “You can’t marry him!”

Jay looks amused as Mila glares at the camera, trying to intimidate. “Shouldn’t I have a say?”

“You can’t.” Mila latches onto his arm, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “There’s only one Jay-oppa in the world, everyone else can go find their own.”

[“Hold up! Wait a minute! Something’s not right!”][*Mirage effect*]

mila when engenes ask to marry ni-ki [*Mila saying, “Haha. Good luck with that. He’s a lot to handle.”*]

mila now: [*Mirage effect*]

“But you have to share with Engenes,” Jay says amusedly.

Mila turns to him with a pout and a signature pair of babydoll eyes that she always seems to wear around him—and which he’ll always fold to. “Tell them to ask someone else.”

🤨 [*Dwayne Johnson raising an eyebrow*]

Jay simply chuckles and turns to the camera. “Sorry, I can’t get married to you because our Mila doesn’t approve. You have to ask someone else to be your husband.” He looks back down at Mila. “Happy?”

Mila nods. She then proceeds to continue clinging onto his arm for the rest of the love, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she looks at her with a gaze that could melt butter.

🦋🦋🦋

CLIP 4, COMPILATION

This is basically just Mila getting shy and avoiding Jay’s gaze whenever she makes eye contact with him. It’s like she physically can’t handle looking into his eyes or she’ll be sucked into a vacuum.

mila when jay looks at her: [“Oh no, I hope I don’t fall.”]

CLIP 5, COMPILATION

proof that mila is jay’s baby part 298192: she always runs to jay when she needs something

EN-TER KEY

Mila realises she made a mistake during monitoring and looks at the camera. “I messed up…”

She doesn’t seem bothered by it because she laughs. But as a few seconds pass, she seems visibly worried as she avoids eye contact with the camera and looks away more than once, as if to use her face.

(This was during a period of time not longer after debut, where she was receiving immense hate for supposedly debuted without any talent.) 

But then she seems to crack and turns her back to the camera, before making a beeline in a certain direction. As the cameraman follows her, they end up finding Jay, who is seated on a couch in the dressing room.

He immediately stands up upon seeing Mila, and worriedly asks her what’s wrong. He opens his arms to her and she immediately walks into his embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.

He brings a hand to her head and whispers something in her ear which the cameras don’t catch. But its clear that he’s doing his best to cocker her and shield her from the camera’s view.

EN-DIARIES

Mila is tasked with the mission of giving a member a makeover, which she complains will be entirely impossible to do for any of them. But then she decides to approach Jay, and follows him around the place, asking him (and only him) for help.

“Oppa, can you help me just this once?” Mila grabs onto his sleeve and tugs it to her. “Please?”

Jay pretends to ignore her, instead busying himself with looking inside the fridge. But instead of giving up and asking one of the other members, she persists, and does everything from clinging, whining, to even pretending to be upset.

“I’ve been rejected,” she mopes in the living room, purposely speaking loud enough for Jay to hear her. “No one loves me anymore.”

At this, Jay seems ro reach the end of his straw, and laughs to himself as he makes his way over to the sulking Mila on the couch. To keep the long story short, Mila eventually sits him down and happily puts a ribbon in his hair, while commenting how cute he looks.

SO SO FUN

Mila is in the middle of cooking something in the kitchen when she notices that something is a bit off. She gasps when she realises she forgot to add an ingredient, and starts to panic that she might have ruined the whole dish.

The first thing she does is take off to find Jay. “Oppa, are you busy?”

Jay looks at her with his full attention. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Mila looks slightly embarrassed and stands closer to Jay, with a hand slightly covering her mouth. He leans down closer as she basically whispers, “I made a mistake with the food. I think I messed it up…”

Jay, to his credit, seems unpaused. “Show me. We’ll see if we can fix it.”

Mila points out the food when she gets for the kitchen, looking disappointed as she walks Jay through every step she took. “Sorry,” she says with a frown as she finishes. “I’m so clumsy…”

“No, no, don’t apologise,” Jay reassures softly. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and places a comforting hand on her head. “We can still fix it. Come here, I’ll show you what to do if it happens again.”

MISCELLANEOUS

And again, Mila can be seen asking for his help or his comfort when she needs something, which he responds to like a hero to the rescue at every occasion. It’s really no suspense that he’s her favourite oppa. (Or so, JayMi shippers like to claim—just don’t let the MiSeung fans know.)

© ENMI-LAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST.

taglist⠀( OPEN ! ) ⦂ @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs @nee-issaire @jwnstars @tommina @queenriki7 @onlyuyu

[readerswritings]

In the Damn Kitchen - Poolverine 1/2

Smut will come in next chapter I promise, just needed to get this part out into the world first to see if people like it. (AO3)

Warnings/tags: roommates, first Kiss, idiots in love, eventual smut, canon-typical behavior

Wordcount: 1224

Summary: Logan and Wade are some weird kind of roomates, and one morning Logan tries to figure out how to make Wade shut the fuck up without getting blood in his breakfast.

Logan has been staying with Wade on his shitty pull-out couch for three months. Something that was meant to be somewhat temporary is feeling less and less like that these days.

They still fight physically, stabbing each other and making a mess (that Al complains about later), but they also just hang out.

Which Logan isn’t used to.

Not anymore.

Haven’t been for a good while.

Wade has grown on him, even with all the touching. And talking.

All the goddamn talking.

It rarely stops.

Wade talks on the inhale and exhale.

Not even when he eats is Wade quiet, talking with his mouth full of food. He has been doing it less lately, after Logan stabbed him with a fork a few times so he wouldn’t have to see that shit.

Wade is only quiet when he’s sleeping.

Logan has returned late from a bar or late-night walks a few times to Wade asleep on the pullout. Seeing him quiet and still had been odd. Wade’s ADHD filled ass never being still when he’s awake. 

Wade also sleeps like he’s dead. Logan had discovered this when he tried to wake him so he would move the first time. It was legitimately difficult to wake him up. So after that first time where it took an eternity to get him conscious enough to move, Logan either goes to sleep in the armchair he had gotten off the street the first week he was here, or tips Wade onto the floor with a pillow if he is in a bad mood. 

When he doesn’t give a shit, he’ll just crawl onto the pullout with Wade. He tends to wake up before him anyway. The few times he doesn’t, a few claws to the guts makes Wade shut up, or at least talk about something else.

Another thing he hasn’t quite gotten used to, is how casual Wade is about touch.

Sure, Wade had been touching him a bunch when they first met. But that had been to rile Logan up, to get a reaction, even if it was all negative. (The Honda doesn’t count in any positive way, the intent behind all of that had been hate and adrenaline. Even if the end result had been good.)

Now though, it’s a hand patting his shoulder as they pass in the kitchen. A thigh bumping against his own as they watch shitty reality tv. Feet kicking him under the dinner table if he says something too blunt or rude. A shoulder bumping against his as they walk that damn ugly dog together.

It makes his skin crawl, mostly with how used to it he has become. And how he kinda, not that he will admit this to anyone but his own thoughts, likes it.

It’s all become routine, a weird kind of domestic, (Logan hates that word), that works for them.

Speaking of routine, Logan often makes breakfast for them. Wade can barely cook, Al is blind, and Logan doesn’t mind that much most of the time. He needs to eat a lot anyway, and getting something into Wade that is somewhat healthy and not just all sugar makes him a little less irritating to deal with during the day.

Wade of course likes to tease him when he cooks. Stealing bites before it’s ready. Logan has become quite adept at fighting just with a spatula, smacking hands away with a grunted ‘fuck off.’

He’s off his game this morning though, as Wade manages to snatch a piece of bacon, straight from the pan where it was almost finished. Logan knows it must be burning his mouth and tongue, but Wade crunches on his price with a grin on his face. 

He’s wearing Deadpool pajama pants, bunny slippers, and a pink long sleeve with Hello Kitty on it, and frankly looks ridiculous leaning on the counter, extra so next to Logan who is fully dressed for the day in his flannel, t-shirt, jeans, and boots.

“Haven’t had enough coffee yet peanut?” Logan grunts, smacking Wade’s hand as it tries to go for another piece. 

“Fuck off.”

“Oh you know I love it when you talk dirty to me, even this early in the morning.”

“It’s 10 am dipshit.”

“Oh you know the saying, it’s always 5 am somewhere.” Logan snorts, shaking his head. He grabs a plate to put the finished bacon on, putting some more in the pan. He lets Wade take a piece from the plate.

“Besides, I kept waking up because my dreams were being haunted by this sexy lumberjack looking figure, and I woke up with a raging hard-on that I had to take care of every-” Logan tunes him out, a necessary and learned skill by now. He flips the bacon, then stirs the eggs in the other pan where he’s keeping them warm on low heat.

There’s a hand in his hair, and that makes his focus snap back to Wade and his yapping. 

“You know, I always wonder if you roll out of bed with these little tufts.” Logan pushes his hand away, letting the claws out just enough so he knicks Wade’s skin. 

“Ouchie, someone’s a grump this morning. You’ve clearly not gotten enough caffeine in your hot bod yet. We should get that coffee that has a fuckton of it, the one with the skull or whatever, that lethal shit. Wonder if that would actually kill you, do you think your heart could give out on you? I think they even make you sign a wai-” Logan tunes him out again and wonders what it will take to shut Wade up. He is right, Logan has not had enough coffee for this. (Or booze, but he’s trying to do a little less of that.) 

Logan absentmindedly notices one of Wade’s scars on his cheek looks kinda almost like an H, and his mind drifts to the Honda. Unintentional, though not unwelcome

He’d rather not get blood on his bacon right now, so he goes for another component of all that shit.

He steps to the side and turns, leaning forward, pressing his lips against Wade’s. It’s a brief kiss, but Wade doesn’t immediately say anything as Logan leans back just enough to gauge his reaction. He's enjoying the silence as Wade's eyes are flickering all over his face.

Wade’s mouth is gaping like a fish, opening and closing before his brain is booting back up. It makes Logan snort as he leans back all the way back.

The silence lasts for maybe thirty seconds.

“What the fuck peanut? You interupted me mid-monologue, that was fucking rude you-”

“Thought it would shut you up, but I see that didn’t work.” Logan takes a step back, but is hauled back by hands twisted in the collar of his flannel.

“Oh no, you are not going anywhere until I get an explanation, or more.” Logan arches a brow, hands at his side, not touching Wade. The urge to punch or stab him is rising. 

And the urge to kiss him. 

Again. 

He knows all of the options would work for Wade.

“I gave you an explanation.” 

“Grew tired of the claws old man? Don’t wanna stab this supple fle-”

“God you are desperate.” Logan doesn’t know if he means it as an insult or a compliment, but kisses Wade again anyway.

[just-a-ghost00]

Celeb series : channeled advice from your bias' higher self

Group 1

Cards : 2 of coins, 7 of swords, Strength, 3 of pentacles, Death, 9 of wands

Be mindful of the way you spend your time and energy. Of course, work is important but... are you getting any rest? Are you even eating properly? I don't want you to be sick and tired. I don't want you to be exhausted and forced to step away from what you love because of that. You have to be strategic. I know how much of a hard worker you can be. No one can take that away from you and I am proud of you for the efforts you put in your success, your studies, your job. I hope you are proud of yourself too. But remember that you are not alone. You don't have to handle all this pressure on your own. You can count on me too. You can come and rest on my shoulder. I will lend you a bit of my joy and energy if that gives you comfort, if that brightens your day. I would be happy if I could lighten up your load and make your life a little easier. Remember that you are human and you deserve to have fun, to spend time with the people you love and doing the things that make you happy. You were not born to grind yourself to death. You were born to live and laugh and love. Lmao that sounds so cheesy but that's the truth. Hang in there. I know you can do it. I know you have it in you to be the most beautiful and successful being the world has ever known. I believe in you. When you feel down or stressed, please don't mull it over all alone in your corner. Come to me and let's chat it out. Maybe I can help you. Okay? Love you.

Shufflemancy : Are you having any fun? by Elaine Stritch, Freak like me by Halestorm

Group 2

Cards : 8 of wands, page of pentacles, page of cups, Tower, knight of swords, 7 of swords

Don't hold back. Whatever you wanna say, say it. Whatever you wanna do, do it. Be you. Do you. Feel you. I know it, you know it. This life is too short to have any regrets or mourn it. So just live, shine bright, have fun. Learn as much as you can. Go as far as you can. Don't hold back for any of them hyenas who would be too happy to see you fail. Shake the world. Break the rules. There's no one like you. Speak your mind. Embody your truth. I see you. I feel you. I know what it's like. Don't share any of your tricks with them. They jealous. Let them choke on their venom. You got no time for their BS. Okay? You're a queen/king. You bow down to no one. The dumbest of them all is the one that never learns, never asks, never speaks up. But you know better, honey. I know you're going to nail it. I know you're a good one. I know you're gonna rock the world because you're a rockstar. Just don't stop, don't look back. Don't let anyone stop you. I'll cheer for you wherever you go, wherever you are, whatever you believe in. Don't be afraid of what you feel or what you want. Just embrace who you are. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You are perfect. I hope you see that. I am in awe at how gorgeous and smart you are. I'm your number one fan! Show me how it's done! Show me what you got.

Shufflemancy : Zoom by Jessi, OMG by Usher ft will.i.am

Group 3

Cards : 3 of pentacles, 10 of swords, 9 of pentacles, ace of pentacles, queen of wands, 9 of wands

It's important that you take care of your health. Especially if your mind isn't in the best place right now. I know how hard it can be. But I also know how resilient you are. You are going to get everything you want and more. I have no doubt about that. You are so patient and kind, so hard working. You carry yourself with such grace and humility that it would be impossible for you to fail. I can't imagine a world where you don't shine. It would be impossible not to love you and admire you. I wish I could be of help to you but to be honest I feel like I have nothing to teach you cause you give me so much more than I could ever give you. I know so little about this world, about this life. But I hope that you can find a friend in me. A reliable shoulder to lean on when you feel down. I hope that your days are bright and that I can contribute to that. If I can give you just a little piece of advice, it would be to find a community where you feel safe and like you can be your true self, show your vulnerable sides without fearing rejection or retaliation. Go at your own pace. One step at a time, make your dreams come true. I will help you in any way I can. If it's by sharing your work or giving you words of affirmation, I will. If it needs me listening to you ranting for hours, I will gladly do that. There's only so much that I can do and say, but I hope that it's enough. Know that I am always by your side. You are so beautiful. Never give up. Please don't forget about me when you're successful. Because I am sure that one day you will surpass me and the greatest of them all. And if that happens, I wish I can be part of your world.

Shufflemancy : R U Mine? by Arctic Monkeys, I don't think I'm okay by Bazzi

[ittybittyremy]

bells hells' points about the archheart conversation (c3e108)

I organized everyone's points so that it would be easier to analyze them

This may look a little messy so sorry in advance

Note: I am only including the conversation and not anything afterwards (i.e. Braius' interaction with Asmodeus)

Conversation starts at 3:19:30 on Beacon

Chetney

Reminds the team that there is another god who has a similar opinion to the Archheart

Reminds the group that the last bit of the lock on Predathos shared a similarity with the Divine Gate. He wonders if they break down the gate, would it pull the pin on Predathos, keeping them back for a bit. And if that was the case, it could be fair game

Agrees with Orym's “I don’t know that we need to decide that we have to throw the switch instead of him when we at least have a chance to cut off his hand before he pulls it”

Asks Imogen and Fearne “I’m not Ruidusborn, so it’s not really up to me. How do you feel about the notion that one of you or both of you could be asked to be a vessel? Where are you? How are you feeling about that?”

Says “I don't know” at Imogen's “but there’s no way I’m more powerful than some of the Exaltants up there already”

Thinks it’s crazy that the gods could see BH as their last ditch effort

Says “right” (Regarding Braius’ “At the end of the day, whoever succeeds, whoever has power, whoever accomplishes their goals, they can make things right. You have to win first”)

“The weird part is all these different parties have the same goal, to push the reset button, to grab the reins. We all have different perspectives. The Unseelie want the chance to do it and wipe the slate but they want to be in charge. Ludinus, same thing, but he wants to be in charge. I’m not saying we’re wrong. I think we’re better, but we’re really no different.”

“I was asking if he had talked to Ludinus or done this before, like a catalyst, like a voice in your ear. I don’t know”

Feels like they’re having their strings pulled

Thinks that they should talk to the Matron because “conversations are important. Everything breaks down when people don’t talk.”

Laudna

“I really liked [the Archheart]”

“The other scary thing is if he’s sending Ruidusborn to their deaths, is he testing the boundary or are they testing who’s powerful enough to possibly take Predathos into them?”

Agrees with Dorian's view that releasing Predathos is inevitable but wanting to be there when it happens

Mentions that the Matron may be the one that has similar ideas to the Archheart

Wonders if Ludinus will be successful in broadcasting the gods destroying Aeor

Thinks there’s a chance that the gods strike back if the broadcast is released as there powers wanes

Reminds the group that Archheart said “a second Calamity”

Reminds Imogen that she’s very capable when she says “but there’s no way I’m more powerful than some of the Exaltants up there already”

Thinks that “being Ruidusborn doesn’t necesarily gives them godlike or god eater powers…”

“If it’s not [Imogen’s] mother, it’s probably one of the two of you. And that makes my stomach turn”

Doesn't think the gods are a monolith

“We’re the worst. Like just kind of in general, like we are a bunch of fuck-ups. We’re kind of the worst. Strangely, I think that’s the quality that everyone sees in us that makes us the best for this job” (Regarding Orym saying that the gods could see BH as their last ditch effort)

Agree’s with Chetney's “I think we’re better, but we’re really no different [from the others who want to release Predathos]"

“We learn more everyday. We’re still on this journey. No decisions have been made. We’re not speaking in absolutions.”

Thinks the RQ ”has a reason to take all of this very personally more so than any of the others”

Dorian

Thinks that Predathos being released is inevitable. He would rather be there when it happens

“Cowards are often honest” (about the Archheart)

Wonders if there’s a chance that the gods strike back if the broadcast is released as there powers wanes

Nods at Orym’s “Ludinus is at the end of the road no matter what.”

“Faith’s a hard thing to let go of” (regarding Imogen’s “but a lot of people on this world depend on [the gods]”)

“It’s hard to believe but there is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it. Not everything deserves a second chance… But maybe you’re right, I wish you were. I wish the world were the way you saw it but it’s got to be done, but that’s not a chance I’m willing to take either” (in regards to Fearne saying that Predathos potentially being good)

“I think Predathos is a weapon. Do we want to have the power to wield it? I don’t know. But I trust us more than anyone”

“It was so ugly the way we did [the mission], but we did do what we came here for.”

Asks Chetney if he thinks “we’re getting our strings pulled”

“I think (the Raven Queen) is motivated by fear as well. I would imagine if you could see the future, the one future you couldn’t see is the future where the gods come to an end.” (Going under the assumption the she can see the future)

Braius

He saw the deal as the vessel “being” Predathos

Makes an affirming sound at Orym’s “it can end at job one, if you do it successfully”

Doesn’t think they went to far with the mission. “We’re on a mission to save the world. Some stuff is going to happen. It’s all in service of a greater good”

“At the end of the day, whoever succeeds, whoever has power, whoever accomplishes their goals, they can make things right. You have to win first”

Fearne

“The deal is that we would [release Predathos]”

Thinks most of the world believes in the gods

“What about the other gods? What if they have different ideas?”

Wonders if we should get the opinions of other gods

Thinks the Archheart seemed tired

Doesn’t answer Chetney’s question about how she feels about potentially being a vessel

“I mean, listen, If it’s something that’s got to be done. It’s got to be done. Personally, I think- I don’t know, I think if something is captured up there, this Predathos. Does it make us any better that we’re keeping him caged up just to save other people and other things?”

“What if [Predathos] just want[s] to go back and be with his family?”

Agrees with Dorian's “Not everything deserves a second chance.” (regarding Predathos)

Strongly agrees with Imogen’s “What the Archheart is trying to convince us to do is the exact same thing that everyone else is trying to do.”

Imogen

“[The Archheart] made some really amazing points”

“Do we really want to follow?”

The deal is that we would still wake up Predathos. That’s the deal they want; wake up Predathos.”

She highlights that the people who believe in the gods wouldn’t get what they want

“The Archheart made it pretty clear that taking Predathos would be [deadly]”

Thinks the Archheart seemed tired

Agree with Ashton’s “I do think that most scenarios in this current situation lead to just the worst that we can imagine”

Agrees with Orym’s “Ludinus is at the end of the road no matter what.”

“I haven’t really thought about it yet, Chet. I’ve been of the notion that I don’t want to let Predathos free. I know so many people disagree with what the gods do, and so many in our group do. But a lot of people on this world depend on them. To throw that all away seems callous.” (When Chetney asked about how she feels about potentially being a vessel)

Wonders if they went to far with the mission

Agree with Dorian’s “Faith’s a hard thing to let go of”

“It’s not like, you know, their faith would be shattered because they don’t know. Their faith would be shattered because their gods abandoned them. Their gods would have run away from them in their time of need when all of their Ruidians or Reilorans are destroying their lands and demons from the depths are breaking through portals. I don’t know what will happen, to Orym’s point. So I don’t know how I feel about back that play up. But I think if it’s going to happen, if it has to happen, if there’s no stopping it, if it comes down to it and he’s coming out, then I would gladly step up and at least try. But there’s no way I’m more powerful than some of the Exaltants up there already”

“I think us (Fearne and Imogen) combined, there might be some hope”

Wonders if Predathos could be like Gloamglut. “He’s just young”

"Well, I kind of sensed him. He wants to eat” (Regarding Fearne wondering if Predathos just wants to go back to his family)

Thinks that they should talk to the Matron of Ravens to see what she has to say

Agrees with Dorian’s “It was so ugly the way we did [the mission], but we did do what we came here for.”

“What the Archheart is trying to convince us to do is the exact same thing that everyone else is trying to do.”

Wonders if the RQ knew her champions would become the catalyst for the key

Orym

“We’ve yet to see one thing that proves to us what will happen after that thing is let loose. We’ve had people tell us it will be fine, we’ve had people tell us it would be destructive. We’ve had a god tell us to fight. We’ve had a god tell us to burn it all to the ground.”

He wouldn’t risk it because he doesn’t think anyone, including Ludinus, knows what will happen when Predathos is let free

Disagrees with Dorian statement of “I think it’s coming, one way or the other, and I’d rather be there when it does”

Highlights that they’re making a play for Ludinus because taking Predathos on would be deadly

Acknowledges that the gods may have different ideas

“It’s a big coin toss, guys”

Agrees with Dorian’s “There’s no one I trust more than us”

Thinks that “Ludinus is at the end of the road no matter what.”

“I don’t know that we need to decide that we have to throw the switch instead of [Ludinus] when we at least have a chance to cut off his hand before he pulls it”

Thinks that it can/could end with cutting Ludinus’ hand before he pulls the switch “if you do it successfully”

“There’s nothing saying that you have to flip that switch and turn reality upside down. None of you can tell me what will happen if one our friends does what Ludinus wants to do. None of you have any evidence, proof. Intuition doesn’t cut it. Your gut does not cut it. You are putting the population of this world at risk. So I hope you are all fucking sure at the end of the road. I’ll be there to get you there. I’ll stand by your side. I will do my damnedest to keep you all alive. But don’t let it be a coin toss or ‘let’s see what happens,’ because you just don’t know”

“I also just over the last months have the feeling that we’re walking some line and that’s why so many of them are paying attention to us. Maybe they see us as a last ditch effort”

“It is, but it’s uncanny.”(Replying to Chetney’s “it’s crazy” that they’re the gods’ last ditch effort)

“No one said it was going to be easy” (Regarding Imogen asking if they went too far with the mission)

Ashton

“It’s a deal I can get behind”

“Everyone gets what they want”

Does not think most of the world believes in the gods, just “a lot” of them do

“They get to live” (In response to Fearne talking about other gods having other ideas)

They trust Archheart the most (of all the gods) because “he’s the only one who had clear misgivings. Everyone else was hand wringing. He was the only one who was actually - He was the only one with a big picture”

Trusts Archheart because he sees them as a coward. He thinks cowards are honest

“Big coin” (when Orym says that it’s “a big coin toss”)

Feels that they would know if Ludinus was broadcasting the Gods vs Aeor already

“I do think that most scenarios in this current situation lead to just the worst that we can imagine”

Says the they trust Imogen and Fearne (after Laudna reminds Ashton of the potential second Calamity)

Thinks that “it should be us”

Agrees with Orym’s “Ludinus is at the end of the road no matter what.”

“Job one. [Ludinus] doesn’t touch the switch” (Regarding Orym's “I don’t know that we need to decide that we have to throw the switch instead of [Ludinus] when we at least have a chance to cut off his hand before he pulls it”)

Responds to Orym’s “don’t let it be a coin toss” (Regarding releasing Predathos) with “Well, then we’re very lucky that we no longer have anyone who believes and puts their faith in a coin toss” and leaves

[mariacallous]

When most Americans think of fascism, they picture a Hitlerian hellscape of dramatic action: police raids, violent coups, mass executions. Indeed, such was the savagery of Nazi Germany, Stalinist Russia, and Vichy France. But what many people don’t appreciate about tyranny is its “banality,” Timothy Snyder tells me. “We don’t imagine how a regime change is going to be at the dinner table. The regime change is going to be on the sidewalk. It’s going to be in your whole life.”

Snyder, a Yale history professor and leading scholar of Soviet Russia, was patching into Zoom from a hotel room in Kyiv, where the specter of authoritarianism looms large as Ukraine remains steeped in a yearslong military siege by Vladimir Putin. It was late at night and he was still winding down from, and gearing up for, a packed schedule—from launching an institution dedicated to the documentation of the war, to fundraising for robotic-demining development, to organizing a conference for a new Ukrainian history project. “I’ve had kind of a long day and a long week, and if this were going to be my sartorial first appearance in Vanity Fair, I would really want it to go otherwise,” he joked.

But the rest of our conversation was no laughing matter. It largely centered, to little surprise, on Donald Trump and how the former president has put America on a glide path to fascism. Too many commentators were late to realize this. Snyder, however, has been sounding the alarm since the dawn of Trumpism itself, invoking the cautionary tales of fascist history in his 2017 book, On Tyranny, and in The Road to Unfreedom the year after. It’s been six years since the latter, and Snyder is now out with a new book, On Freedom, a personal and philosophical attempt to flip the valence of America’s most lauded—and loaded—word. “We Americans tend to think that freedom is a matter of things being cleared away, and that capitalism does that work for us. It is a trap to believe in this,” he writes. “Freedom is not an absence but a presence, a life in which we choose multiple commitments and realize combinations of them in the world.”

In an interview with Vanity Fair, which has been edited for length and clarity, Snyder unpacks America’s “strongman fantasy,” encourages Democrats to reclaim the concept of freedom, and critiques journalists for pushing a “war fatigue” narrative about the Russian invasion of Ukraine. “There’s just something so odd about Americans being tired of this war. We can get bored of it or whatever, but how can we be tired?” he asks. “We’re not doing a damn thing.”

Vanity Fair: The things we associate with freedom—free speech, religious liberty—have been co-opted by the Republican Party. Do you think you could walk me through how that happened historically and how Democrats could take that word back?

Timothy Snyder: Yeah. I think the way it happened historically is actually quite dark there. There’s an innocent way of talking about this, which is to say, “Oh, some people believe in negative freedom and some people believe in positive freedom—and negative freedom just means less government and positive freedom means more government.” And when you say it like that, it just sounds like a question of taste. And who knows who’s right?

Whereas historically speaking, to answer your question, the reason why people believe in negative freedom is that they’re enslaving other people, or they are oppressing women, or both. The reason why you say freedom is just keeping the government off my back is that the central government is the only force that’s ever going to enfranchise those slaves. It’s the only force which is ever going to give votes to those women. And so that’s where negative freedom comes from. I’m not saying that everybody who believes in negative freedom now owns slaves or oppresses women, but that’s the tradition. That’s the reason why you would think freedom is negative, which on its face is a totally implausible idea. I mean, the notion that you can just be free because there’s no government makes no sense, unless you’re a heavily drugged anarchist.

And so, as the Republican Party has also become the party of race in our country, it’s become the party of small government. Unfortunately, this idea of freedom then goes along for the ride, because freedom becomes freedom from government. And then the next step is freedom becomes freedom for the market. That seems like a small step, but it’s a huge step because if we believe in free markets, that means that we actually have duties to the market. And Americans have by and large accepted that, even pretty far into the center or into the left. If you say that term, “free market,” Americans pretty generally won’t stop you and say, “Oh, there’s something problematic about that.” But there really is: If the market is free, that means that you have a duty to the market, and the duty is to make sure the government doesn’t intervene in it. And once you make that step, you suddenly find yourself willing to accept that, well, everybody of course has a right to advertise, and I don’t have a right to be free of it. Or freedom of speech isn’t really for me; freedom of speech is for the internet.

And that’s, to a large measure, the world we live in.

You have a quote in the book about this that distills it well: “The countries where people tend to think of freedom as freedom to are doing better by our own measures, which tend to focus on freedom from.”

Yeah, thanks for pulling that out. Even I was a little bit struck by that one. Because if you’re American and you talk about freedom all the time and you also spend all your time judging other countries on freedom, and you decide what the measures are, then you should be close to the top of the list—but you’re not. And then you ask, “Why is that?” When you look at countries like Sweden, Norway, Denmark, France, Germany, or Ireland—that are way ahead of us—they’re having a different conversation about freedom. They don’t seem to talk about freedom as much as we do, but then when they do, they talk about it in terms of enabling people to do things.

And then you realize that an enabled population, a population that has health care and retirement and reliable schools, may be better at defending things like the right to vote and the right to freedom of religion and the right to freedom of speech—the things that we think are essential to freedom. And then you realize, Oh, wait, there can be a positive loop between freedom to and freedom from. And this is the big thing that Americans get a hundred percent wrong. We think there’s a tragic choice between freedom from and freedom to—that you’ve got to choose between negative freedom and positive freedom. And that’s entirely wrong.

What do you make of Kamala Harris’s attempt to redeem the word?

It makes me happy if it’s at the center of a political discussion. And by the way, going back to your first question, it’s interesting how the American right has actually retreated from freedom. It has been central for them for half a century, but they are now actually retreating from it, and they’ve left the ground open for the Democrats. So, politically, I’m glad they’re seizing it—not just because I want them to win, but also because I think on the center left or wherever she is, there’s more of a chance for the word to take on a fuller meaning. Because so long as the Republicans can control the word, it’s always going to mean negative freedom.

I can’t judge the politics that well, but I think it’s philosophically correct and I think we end up being truer to ourselves. Because my big underlying concern as an American is that we have this word which we’ve boxed into a corner and then beaten the pulp out of, and it really doesn’t mean anything anymore. And yet it’s the only imaginable central concept I can think of for American political theory or American political life.

Yeah, it’s conducive to the joy-and-optimism approach that the Democrats are taking to the campaign. Freedom to is about enfranchisement; it’s about empowerment; it’s about mobility.

Totally. Can I jump in there with another thought?

Of course.

I think JD Vance is the logical extension of where freedom as freedom from gets you. Because one of the things you say when freedom is negative—when it’s just freedom from—is that the government is bad, right? You say the government is bad because it’s suppressive. But then you also say government is bad because it can’t do anything. It’s incompetent and it’s dysfunctional. And it’s a small step from there to a JD Vance–type figure who is a doomer, right? He’s a doomer about everything. His politics is a politics of impotence. His whole idea is that government will fail at everything—that there’s no point using government, and in fact, life is just sort of terrible in general. And the only way to lead in life is to kind of be snarky about other people. That’s the whole JD Vance political philosophy. It’s like, “I’m impotent. You’re impotent. We’re all impotent. And therefore let’s be angry.”

Did you watch the debate?

No, I’m afraid I didn’t. I’m in the wrong time zone.

There was a moment that struck me, and I think it would strike you too: Donald Trump openly praised Viktor Orbán, as he has done repeatedly in the past. But he said, explicitly, Orbán is a good guy because he’s a “strongman,” which is a word that he clearly takes to be a compliment, not derogatory. You’ve written about the strongman fantasy in your Substack, so I’m curious: What do you think Trump is appealing to here?

Well, I’m going to answer it in a slightly different way, and then I’ll go back to the way you mean it. I think he’s tapping into one of his own inner fantasies. I think he looks around the world and he sees that there’s a person like Orbán, who’s taken a constitutional system and climbed out of it and has managed to go from being a normal prime minister to essentially being an extraconstitutional figure. And I think that’s what Trump wants for himself. And then, of course, the next step is a Putin-type figure, where he’s now an unquestioned dictator.

For the rest of us, I think he’s tapping—in a minor key—into inexperience, and that was my strongman piece that you kindly mentioned. Americans don’t really think through what it would mean to have a government without the rule of law and the possibility of throwing the bums out. I think we just haven’t thought that through in all of its banality: the neighbors denouncing you, your kids not having social mobility because you maybe did something wrong, having to be afraid all the damn time. African Americans and some immigrants have a sense of this, but in general, Americans don’t get that. They don’t get what that would be like.

So that’s a minor key. The major key, though, is the 20% or so of Americans who really, I think, authentically do want an authoritarian regime, because they would prefer to identify personally with a leader figure and feel good about it rather than enjoy freedom.

You mentioned the word banality, which makes me think of Hannah Arendt’s theory of the “banality of evil.” What would the banality of authoritarianism look like in America?

So let me first talk about the nonbanality of evil, because our version of evil is something like, and I don’t want to be too mean, but it’s something like this: A giant monster rises out of the ocean and then we get it with our F-16s or F-35s or whatever. That’s our version of evil. It’s corporeal, it’s obviously bad, and it can be defeated by dramatic acts of violence.

And we apply that to figures like Hitler or Stalin, and we think, Okay, what happened with Hitler was that he was suddenly defeated by a war. Of course he was defeated by a war, but he did some dramatic and violent things to come to power, but his coming to power also involved a million banalities. It involved a million assimilations, a million changes of what we think of as normal. And it’s our ability to make things normal and abnormal which is so terrifying. It’s like an animal instinct on our part: We can tell what the power wants us to do, and if we don’t think about it, we then do it. In authoritarian conditions, this means that we realize, Oh, the law doesn’t really apply anymore. That means my neighbor could have denounced me for anything, and so I better denounce my neighbor first. And before you know it, you’re in a completely different society, and the banality here is that instead of just walking down the street thinking about your own stuff, you’re thinking, Wait a minute, which of my neighbors is going to denounce me?

Americans think all the time about getting their kids into the right school. What happens in an authoritarian country is that all of that access to social mobility becomes determined by obedience. And as a parent, suddenly you realize you have to be publicly loyal all the time, because one little black mark against you ruins your child’s future. And that’s the banality right there. In Russia, everybody lives like that, because any little thing you do wrong, and your kid has no chance. They get thrown out of school; they can’t go to university.

We don’t imagine how a regime change is going to be at the dinner table. The regime change is going to be on the sidewalk. It’s going to be in your whole life. It’s not going to be some external thing. It’s not like this strongman is just going to be some bad person in the White House, and then eventually the good guys will come and knock him out. When the regime changes, you change and you adapt, and you look around as everyone else is adapting and you realize, Well, everyone else adapting is a new reality for me, and I’m probably going to have to adapt too. Trump wants to be a strongman. He’s already tried a ​​ coup d’état. He makes it clear that he wants to be a different regime. And so if you vote him in, you’re basically saying, “Okay, strongman, tell me how to adapt.”

Yeah, we could talk about Project 2025 all day. This new effort to bureaucratize tyranny—which was not in place in 2020—could really make the banal aspect a reality because it’s enforced by the administrative state, which is going to be felt by Americans at a quotidian level.

I agree with what you say. If I were in business, I would be terrified of Project 2025 because what it’s going to lead to is favoritism. You’re never going to get approvals for your stuff unless you’re politically close to administration. It’s going to push us toward a more Hungary-like situation, where the president’s pals’ or Jared Kushner’s pals’ companies are going to do fine. But everybody else is going to have to pay bribes. Everyone else is going to have to make friends.

It’s anticompetitive.

Yeah, it’s going to generate a very, very uneven playing field where certain people are going to be favored and become oligarchs. And most of the rest of us are going to have a hard time. Also, the 40,000 [loyalists Trump wants to replace the administrative state with] are going to be completely incompetent. When people stop getting their Social Security checks, they’re going to realize that the federal government—which they’ve been told is so dysfunctional—actually did do some things. It’s going to be chaos. The only way to get anything done is to have a phone number where you can call somebody at someplace in the government and say, “Make my thing a priority.” The chaos of the administration state feeds into the strongman thing. And since that’s true, the strongman view starts to become natural for you because it’s the only way to get anything done.

You’ve studied Russian information warfare pretty extensively. A few weeks ago the Justice Department indicted two employees of the Russian state media outlet RT for their role in surreptitiously funding a right-wing US media outfit as part of a foreign-influence-peddling scheme, which saw them pull the wool over a bunch of right-wing media personalities. Do you think this type of thing is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Russian information warfare?

Of course. It’s the tip of the iceberg, and I want to refer back to 2016. It was much bigger in 2016 than we recognized at the time. The things that the Obama administration was concerned with—like the actual penetration of state voting systems and stuff—that was really just nothing compared to all of the internet stuff they had going. And we basically caught zilcho of that before the election itself. And I think the federal government is more aware of it this time, but also the Russians are doing different things this time, no doubt.

I’m afraid what I think is that there are probably an awful lot of people who are doing this—including people who are much more important in the media than those guys—and that there’s just no way we’re going to catch very many of them before November. That’s my gut feeling.

While we’re on Russia, I do want to talk about Ukraine, especially since you’re there right now. I think one of the most unfortunate aspects of [the media’s coverage of] foreign wars—the Ukraine war and also the Israel-Hamas war—is just the way they inevitably fade into the background of the American news cycle, especially if no American boots are on the ground. I’m curious if this dynamic frustrates you as a historian.

Oh, a couple points there. One is, I’m going to point out slightly mean-spiritedly that the stories about war fatigue in Ukraine began in March 2022. As a historian, I am a little bit upset at journalists. I don’t mean the good ones. I don’t mean the guys I just saw who just came back from the front. [I mean] the people who are sitting in DC or New York or wherever, who immediately ginned up this notion of war fatigue and kept asking everybody from the beginning, “When are you going to get tired of this war?” We turned war fatigue into a topos almost instantaneously. And I found that really irresponsible because you’re affecting the discourse. But also, I feel like there was a kind of inbuilt laziness into it. If war fatigue sets in right away, then you have an excuse never to go to the country, and you have an excuse never to figure out what’s going on, and you have an excuse never to figure out why it’s important.

So I was really upset by that, and also because there’s just something so odd about Americans being tired of this war. We can get bored of it or whatever, but how can we be tired? We’re not doing a damn thing. We’re doing nothing. I mean, there’s some great individual Americans who are volunteering and giving supplies and stuff, but as a country, we’re not doing a damn thing. I mean, a tiny percentage of our defense budget—which would be going to other stuff anyway—insead goes to Ukraine.

And by the way, Ukrainians understand that Americans have other things to think about. I was not very far from the front three days ago talking to soldiers, and their basic attitude about the election and us was, like, “Yeah, you got your own things to think about. We understand. It’s not your war.” But as a historian, the thing which troubles me is pace, because with time, all kinds of resources wear down. And the most painful is the Ukrainian human resource. That’s probably a terribly euphemistic word, but people die and people get wounded and people get traumatized. Your own side runs out of stuff.

We were played by the Russians, psychologically, about the way wars are fought. And that stretched out the war. That’s the thing which bothers me most. You win wars with pace and you win wars with surprise. You don’t win wars by allowing the other side to dictate what the rules are and stretching everything out, which is basically what’s happened. And with that has come a certain amount of American distraction and changing the subject and impatience. I think journalists have made a mistake by making it into a kind of consumer thing where they’re sort of instructing the public that it’s okay to be bored or fatigued. And then I think the Biden administration made a mistake by not doing things at pace and allowing every decision to take weeks and months and so on.

What do you think another Trump presidency would mean for the war and for America’s commitment to Ukraine?

I think Trump switches sides and puts American power on the Russian side, effectively. I think Trump cuts off. He’s a bad dealmaker—that’s the problem. I mean, he’s a good entertainer. He’s very talented; he’s very charismatic. In his way, he’s very intelligent, but he’s not a good dealmaker. And a) ending wars is not a deal the way that buying a building is a deal, and b) even if it were, he’s consistently made bad deals his whole career and lost out and gone bankrupt.

So you can’t really trust him with something like this, even if his intentions were good—and I don’t think his intentions are good. Going back to the strongman thing, I think he believes that it’s right and good that the strong defeat and dominate the weak. And I think in his instinctual view of the world, Putin is pretty much the paradigmatic strongman—the one that he admires the most. And because he thinks Putin is strong, Putin will win. The sad irony of all this is that we are so much stronger than Russia. And in my view, the only way Russia can really win is if we flip or if we do nothing. So, because Trump himself is so psychologically weak and wants to look up to another strongman, I think he’s going to flip. But even if I’m wrong about that, I think he’s incompetent to deal with a situation like this. Because he wants the quick affirmation of a deal. And if the other side knows you’re in a hurry, then you’ve already lost from the beginning.

[another-goblin]

Doc and Gambler: An essay A disjointed musing

I've been thinking about the words they use to address or refer to each other. Gambler and Doctor are rather special nicknames. I can't think of other characters who talk to each other a lot but avoid calling each other by actual names so deliberately.

First of all, of course I can see it as a sign of their relationship. They are old friends, so it makes sense that they have cute special names for each other.

Can there be other explanations?

1. We never see them use each other's actual first names.

It's understandable with Aventurine. If he's ever comfortable being called Kakavasha, it's definitely not now. And I can understand if he'd prefer Kakavasha to just remain a happy, innocent child in his memories forever.

It's more interesting with Ratio. Nobody calls him just "Veritas" (I think?..) He's referred to as Veritas Ratio in some official situations in his character stories. Even his elderly professor, who talks about teaching Ratio when he was a child, only calls him "Ratio."

Actually, I remember a theory that "Veritas" isn't a personal name but a kind of honorific. Maybe a title that Veritas University gives to its most distinguished members. But if Veritas is his actual first name, then I think it's quite significant that nobody seems to call him that. Especially while all of the other characters who have identifiable western-style first and second names are mostly referred to by their first name. (I'm sorry, I don't know how the Xianzhou characters' names work.)

A little off topic, but is Ratio even his real name? According to the wiki, his full name means "truth of the matter," and his Chinese name means "doctor truth." What a coincidence that a person with such a name became a famous scientist. Although there can be other explanations too.

2. They do use each other's more commonly used names sometimes (I think Ratio called him Aventurine once in the game when discussing him with us, and Aventurine addressed Ratio by name a couple of times). But it's mostly nicknames. Mostly Doc(tor) and Gambler, but also "learned professor," "knowledgeable friend," and a hundred of silly ways Ratio refers to Aventurine. I made a whole post about it long ago.

3. Can it be because all of their direct interaction happened in Penacony, in the middle of a murder mystery somewhat reminiscent of the board game Clue, with our little "Mrs. Peacock" and "Professor Plum" here just imitating the naming conventions of such a game? Like archetypes from a classical detective story, where most characters can be described with one word like that. But it's a bit of a crack theory.

4. The only situation we saw them talking to each other was when they had to play their roles for Sunday.

It's interesting that Sunday later proceeds to call Ratio just "doctor" or "learned doctor" too, the way Aventurine did. I mean, strictly speaking, there isn't anything unusual in calling a doctor "doctor", but it's funny in an awkward way. Imagine two close friends having special names for each other. And then a complete stranger who's been eavesdropping starts using these names too. Umm, that's "Dr. Ratio", Mr. Sunday, thank you very much.

Btw, that's another point to the theory that Sunday only knows (and tries to use against them) the things they deliberately fed him through their conversations.

So it might be that they did it deliberately for Sunday to hear. Like, see? we are so not friends that we don't even call each other by name. But then we see them using similar words when mentioning each other while talking to other people, and in Aventurine's thoughts too (in mission descriptions during Double Indemnity).

5. Although it might still be the way for them to try and distance themselves from each other, at least verbally, trying to deny the obvious special connection between them.

6. Or maybe it's about their "masks". They both have public personas to hide their real selves behind. (Ratio directly tells us about it and wears a literal mask to hide behind, and Aventurine's whole Harmony ordeal was basically to show his inner self, so unlike the confident and cocky Aventurine other people know.)

But they know each other better and see deeper than just their public personas of "Aventurine" and "Dr. Ratio". And it's still too early in their relationship to prod deeper ("Kakavasha" and "Veritas"). So a secret third thing it is.

[34saveme34]

FINALLY HERE!!!

Imperfect Integrity 3/5 for Ties AU (check out my fic tag to see the others if you didn't catch up yet!)

this is quite marware fic

some silly warnings: self harm, blood, emotional so fucking emotional, gay, there's gay sex mentions (NOT CLICKBAIT), 4 being an asshole

20k words, so far the longest thing I had ever written, if I keep this up, which I'll probably will, the Ties AU at the end might turn out to be like, 100k words overall or so but that's just an estimate

also as an aside, for the next part you will need to watch Meta runners to understand the stuff in it, otherwise it won't make sense. so if like you want to watch in like. Idk when I'll be able to write AND finish it but it'll probably take a while until I get there.

now when I don't feel exhausted, I'll start working on the Magical AU ep 1 and probably like try to remember worldbuilding stuff I forgot to write down like an idiot

anyways, enjoy!

It had been a while since Mr Puzzles was cleared of the dredged piece. It really cleared his mind, even more overtime. Although, with no money, he didn’t quite know what to do. As he walked around the city, trying to jog his mind, to give him something to work with, he spotted one of his rivals. Or well…. to him more of an ex rival. They locked eyes, Puzzles wasn’t sure how they were feeling. Staring at him with such a mysterious expression, veiled by maybe his still foggy mind or he just forgot how to understand people.

“Puzzles…?” he could hear them speak. Puzzles suddenly straightened himself up as he was caught off guard. Maybe he even stared, how embarrassing!

“Y-.. Yes! It is… I…” he chuckled awkwardly.

“You’re… not here to scheme again, are you?”

“Hm? Oh… I kind of stopped that. Especially with my old studio smashed to the ground” he might’ve sounded a bit too devastated, something he didn’t mean to be in front of someone like this, someone who knew what he was before way too well and felt it on their skin. Even if they never exactly fully met face to face, especially not in such a casual way as now.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about it! I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, someone like you, losing your… your…”

“My everything? Yes, indeed… Is that all you want?”

“Uhm… I don’t know. I never quite got close to talking to you. You were always so…intimidating”

“Yeah I- I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t quite myself, to say the least”

They looked at him shocked.

“You- You’re saying sorry? Huh… You really changed.”

“For the better I think” Puzzles smiled fondly, one man crossing his mind.

“Heh… Well, I’m sure. So, what will you do now?”

“Well, I kind of don’t have anywhere to go and I’m out of a job”

They didn’t reply for a while, seemingly thinking something over.

“Hey… c’mere, maybe I can offer you something good”

“Oh? Sure” Puzzles took a seat in front of them.

Only now did he fully get a good look at them. They were in a white sundress, had green eyes and gray long hair, let loose draping their face a bit, one of their eyes barely visible. He was kind of used to seeing them in suits and other formal clothing from pictures so it was an interesting change. He really needed that sort of casual vibe right now.

“So… You may have been a boss before but… what do you say to working for me? I know you’re qualified so we don’t even have to bother with that nonsense” they smiled. They were serious about their offer. If Puzzles still had a jaw, it would’ve dropped. He still clearly looked shocked though.

“What? You’re a great catch when it comes to this industry. It’s even YOU doing me a favour. And don’t worry, I’d pay you accordingly too, you can name your price”

“Well… I’d like it if it was fair to the others as well. I don’t want to be paid that much more compared to other workers”

“So a little bit more?”

“Sure but- what position do you have?”

“Oh just- whatever”

“...Whatever?”

“Whatever you can take when you come to it”

“So… An… Everchanging position?”

“Well… considering you’re really skilled in all fields of movie making, I feel I would stifle your potential if I forced you into a single position”

“You flatter me”

They laughed.

“You earned it, Mr Puzzles. Even though you were a vindictive… ahem asshole, it’s hard to deny that you always were an extremely talented person”

“Hm… heh” he chuckled “Well, sure, I’ll take it. Let’s just make it official at some point” Puzzles added almost awkwardly. The offer did find him pretty suddenly so he might have rushed into it. Then again, he didn’t see anything bad to it. Though it’ll definitely make headlines that he’s working for a rival of his. There will probably be rumors about it. He didn’t care though, since he would still get to do what he always loved doing.

Just as his now soon to be boss was handing him a business card, he heard wild yelling. Not just any yelling, it was his name being yelled. And it was rapidly getting closer. As he turned to the source of the noise, said source tackled him.

“Mario needs you!!” Mario yelled, as the source of the sudden noise as he was sort of straddling Puzzles with how he knocked him over.

“Uhm…?” his soon to be boss looked over at the 2 and thought for a bit. Then they laughed “Well, alright, here” they gave him their business card “Just call me when you’re not busy being tackled by men” they winked then left. 

Puzzles felt a little hot as he got up, then ripped Mario off of himself as well, considering how he was latched onto him. Puzzles, being tackled by men? No! That never happened before. Mario tackling him down was an exception. And it didn’t mean anything more than that. He just… needed him for whatever reason.

“Mario needs you!!!” Mario repeated himself, looking up at Puzzles with his big blue eyes. God, maybe he will do whatever he wants! Who said that.

“What do you need me for?” he sighed, giving in, asking him as he crouched down to his level. 

“For research. For SMG1 and SMG2”

“Uhuuuh. And why exactly?”

“Our link.” Mario said as if Puzzles was already well versed in Cosmology lore.

“Our what now?”

“The thing I did for you to not die. Though it was on accident… Mario will do lotta accidents but he didn’t think he could do such a big one!”

Mario almost looked proud of himself.

“Hm… Well” Puzzles smiled at Mario, with such a disgustingly sweet smile, it couldn’t be more genuine “I’m glad you did, you really saved me. I would still be lost if it wasn’t for you”

Mario seemed to be lost looking at Puzzles’s screen. Almost as if he froze. It took a good few seconds for him to respond.

“S… So!! Mario needs you!! Right now!!” Mario picked up Puzzles and started running with him at a speed Puzzles didn’t think was possible for the avatar to achieve. He… truly had some wonderful tricks up his sleeves. And didn’t it just make him more endearing? Who said that. 

Mario ran with him to 1 and 2’s place, not stopping even for a moment before getting there. Almost like he was doing everything in himself to focus only on going and nothing else around him. 

They arrived and Mario quickly dropped Puzzles down once he entered 1 and 2’s home.

“There you 2 are!” 2 cheered.

“So, we can start, yes?” 1 chimed in too.

“What will this be for anyways?” Puzzles asked, still sort of confused with the situation.

“You see, Mr Puzzles, what you have with Mario is really special.”

Puzzles tried very hard to not interpret that in a different way than it was meant to. No way anyways! Mario was not his type. He wasn’t even sure if he would even like anyone though. He never really had people like that in his life. At all honestly.

“Special how exactly?”

“Well… uh, exposition time I guess! 2, get the exposition powerpoint!” 

2 brought out a projector, 1 pulled down a white projector background out of nowhere. Puzzles was a little impressed by how well the meme guardians were prepared for this kind of thing. Kind of made him think about the ways he thought of handling stuff before he went really crazy… Good times.

“So you see, I, SMG1, as well as SMG2, we are meme guardians, and also partners. As in cosmically linked. You see, this was something that was inherent to us since we started existing.”

2 flipped to an image of the 2, with their hands linked, in the process of transmuting a meme.

“Started existing? Cosmically linked?” Puzzles was trying to keep up.

“Yes, we are ageless in a sense. Maybe… Immortal is more correct? And yes, cosmically linked. Sort of like being soulmates. It’s so we can share our power and make each other stronger as well. While we can work on our own as well, working together almost always brings better results. Like what you see on the slide, this is us transmuting memes! The same is true for SMG3 and SMG4 as well. Now… You 2”

he sighed.

“I… I don’t really know to be fair” he admitted.

Silence filled the room. Puzzles was thinking how to react.

‘“Well uh… that’s why I’m here, right? So you can figure it out” Puzzles tried to be optimistic for 1 and 2.

“Right!” 2 chimed in. 1 was starting to feel better about it now.

“Yeah, I guess so”

“Should I bring the memes, 1?”

“Just what I was thinking! Almost like you read my mind”

2 giggled before leaving to get the memes.

“What do you need the memes for?” Puzzles asked.

“You see… I was wondering if your weirdly created link can also manipulate memes or not. Considering Mario is literally the avatar of this world- Oh yeah, Mario being the avatar means if he gets killed the whole world goes to ruin. He’s like the heart of this universe. Oh yeah, we come from a different universe, it’s just since we… lost our avatar, it went to ruin, it became uninhabitable. Dwelling on the past so much is no good though ahah.”

Puzzles was just nodding along.

“Say uh… I’ve been thinking… I remember when SMG3 and SMG4 mended their severed ties… although in a pretty dreamlike way, considering I wasn’t fully there but- they had their literal physical ties well- located differently”

“Physical ties?” 1 looked at him curiously “Why didn’t they mention this to me or 2” Puzzles could almost imagine the kind of talking to 3 and 4 will get about this… Ah, well, not his problem.

2 came back with the memes.

“I was just mentioning it” Puzzles started again, slowly to make sure he had 1’s attention again “Because their ties were on their hands, while with Mario, he does have it on his hands, I actually have it right by my collarbone”

“Oooh, the same place Mario grabbed with all his will to make sure you don’t die!” Mario added with a cheery tone, as if it wasn’t traumatic at all.

“E-... Ah, exactly, Mario” Puzzles sighed.

“Hm” 1 immediately grabbed a few notes to scribble on “I wonder if their locations being different could affect anything in this… even the fact that neither of you are meme guardians!”

he still seemed to be a bit frustrated with this whole thing. Puzzles kind of felt bad.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry” he spoke quietly but everyone looked at him. 1 panicked a bit.

“Oh no no no, I’m so glad to know this is actually possible! I’ve never seen anything like this! I’m just frustrated because it’s hard to figure out!” 

Puzzles showed a weak smile.

“Besides, it’s also Mario’s fault” Mario chimed in as he stood closer to Puzzles, as if he was trying to comfort him.

They got to a few tests after finally everyone was okay. They came to a few conclusions: The power of the link can be measured physically, however it is more chaotic than the average guardian link, thus it is more unstable. It cannot affect memes, however it has the potential to be more powerful than that. Though that was just a theory from 1 based on how it managed to save Puzzles from going back. However he did note the shared pain being so intense must have something to do with it. 

As they were leaving, Mario didn’t seem to leave his side.

“What?” Puzzles looked at him.

Mario seemed to struggle before finally spitting out something that had been on his rather empty, echoey mind of his. 

“Mario was thinking if you want to live with him!! Considering that he knows you don’t have anywhere else to go right now!!” 

Puzzles was taken aback. He chuckled, his face feeling a bit hot, hot enough that Mario noticed.

“Heh, uhm well, didn’t know you took such a liking to me, Mario” it almost felt like Puzzles was teasing Mario, even though it wasn’t his intention at all. He just wanted to stop feeling like a shaking leaf over kindness.

More concerning, Mario seemed to stop, again, that frozen face of his. Puzzles was scared he hurt him, immediately trying to make it right.

“I mean! That you feel sorry enough for me! I mean uhm, you must not be inviting just any homeless person to live with you!” if he could sweat right now…

Mario slowly regained the composure he seemingly lost.

“Hey now, I do like you a little bit” Mario said cheerfully as he went to lead the way to his and Luigi’s house.

Likes him a little bit? Oh those words were like flints trying to spark something and slowly causing a fire inside his head, making him even more stupid about this whole situation… Oh, it must be the link! There wasn’t anything weird to be explained here, he was just feeling this way because of their link and nothing else. Especially since it happened so recently too! Who knows, it could be actively lying to him about his feelings!

They went inside the house, Luigi greeted him. 

“Mario did say you had nowhere else to go so I agreed that you could live here until you figure something out!” 

“Thank you, it really does mean a lot to me, more than anything” Puzzles sounded so awfully grateful practically on his knees but that could’ve been because he was so god damn tall, it had both brothers ever so lightly flustered. Just a tiny bit but enough to where Puzzles was starting to notice it.

“Oh, of course! It’s the best we can do, it really isn’t much!” Luigi was the more awkward one while Mario just laughed then stared in front of himself. It was almost like he was asserting dominance with just his gaze. Puzzles once again felt awkward.

“Oh, did I mess up… This social interacting thing really isn’t my strong suit right now-”

“Oh, you’re fine, really! Just never had someone so grateful for hospitality is all” Luigi finally sounded fine again “Besides, you can always really thank us by helping around. Mario is like a tornado of messes anyways and I wouldn’t mind help with that”

“Hey! I’m not that bad” Mario defended himself.

“Heh, what, bro? You want to look good in front of your new friend?”

Friend.

Friend.

Friend.

Friend

Oh, it rang so many times in Puzzles’s head. It should have settled in at this point but hearing it like this what did it. Sometimes he still thought he was living in that total loneliness he used to be in before. He smiled. He smiled so much, if he could he would’ve cried.

“I’m your friend?” he sounded like he was genuinely crying.

The 2 brothers looked at him.

“Of course! You’re our friend!”

“Mario thinks you’re pretty cool”

He grabbed both in a tight hug before setting them down again and leaving immediately to a different room. He didn’t even know the layout but he sure was going. At least he was exploring on his own! Oh, he was feeling like a dumbass then. He seemed to stop in what was possibly Mario’s room, considering how messy it looked. But it did smell like him so it was definitely his room. His smell had such a comforting effect on Puzzles, probably due to the fact that the link they newly formed was having undeniably strange effects on him that can’t be attributed to anything else. Nothing else at all. Besides he could NEVER be into fat italians. Just a combo he always found unappealing. So why would he EVER find that type of man interesting or worth his time now? Not even character development could ever do that to him! Just a forceful cosmic link that makes you believe untrue and super false things!

Mario opened the door to see Puzzles on his bed. It was kind of silly, considering he was not even close to being able to fit on the bed. He was just way too tall and lanky to fit on there right. It made Mario chuckle which made Puzzles notice him. They stared at each other for a bit, before Puzzles got up.

“I got in your bed- that wasn’t my intention”

“Mhmmm… It also doesn’t seem big enough for you…”

“Huh? Yea I- How did I not realise that” Puzzles laughed awkwardly as he decided to just plop down on the ground instead.

“It’s okay, Mario understands. Puzzles man only recently became normal”

Puzzles nodded, not knowing what else he could add to this. He didn’t want to run his mouth and say something stupid again. Was he always this much of an idiot? He could barely remember at this point.

Mario could easily notice the frown forming on Puzzles’s screen, which only served to concern him. He sat beside him.

“You good?” 

“Oh I… Well, would you really want to listen? I think it’s just a bunch of nonsense but-”

“Yes, Mario will hear you out. You think he doesn’t think about a bunch of nonsense? You underestimate him”

Puzzles chuckled.

“Well alright… I’m just feeling really stressed… about life in general I think. Since it moved on without me- I can’t exactly resume from where I left off. And my head feels weird in general. Sometimes just… feeling like doing things without thinking or something…”

“HmmmMMmmMMMMMmMM” Mario made loud thinking noises.

“Oh? Do you have an idea on what it could be?”

“No…. although….”

“Although?���

“SMG4 noted before that I acted pretty weird lately”

“Oh huh?”

“In his words ‘Why did you just suggest something good to my videos that wasn’t a meme?’ “

Well this puzzled the Puzzle. 

“What did you suggest?”

“Don’t remember” Mario looked aside for a moment then he seemed to become rather content about himself.

“This is weird… We should talk about it with SMG4 sometime…”

“Mmmm… wait!!” Mario suddenly got up and ran to a calendar “We’ll have vacation soon!!”

“V… Vacation?”

“Yeah! SMG4 said we all deserve one good break!!”

“Huh! So um… I won’t see you for a bit?”

“No way!”

Mario furrowed his brows before he grabbed his phone and went outside. Was interesting seeing Mario act this way… not just stubborn but so… He didn’t even know how to put it into words.

As he sat there, beside Mario’s bed, his mind started to wander, listening to the silence better and the noises hidden in it… The analogue clock that was hung on the wall dominated it although he could hear other things. Like the wind outside. Steps sounding across the halls outside. Even the light hum of his screen finding him. It was rather peaceful, it let him think. He still needed to think about a lot. Or maybe just not think at all. The idea seemed rather attractive. Even though he now cringed as he remembered how tightly he hugged the 2 brothers before running off like a mindless idiot. Good thing Mario didn’t seem to question it. Maybe he should look at things in a similar way! Do first, question why later. Or never, preferably. What could possibly go wrong?

As he was deep in his thoughts, what stirred him from his daydreaming was yelling outside. He now knew it to be Mario, it was rather well… fitting to him. No one else could yell the same way as Mario does. What an odd thing to note for Puzzles…He chose not to think about it though. Just appreciate Mario’s unique nature without further thought. 

A few minutes later, Mario came back with a big smile on his face.

“Mario convinced SMG4 to let you come with us!!” he cheered, hugging Puzzles.

The affection still felt weird, he was still battling feelings. He was sort of relieved when Mario let go of him but he still wished it back so dearly. It was probably one of those things where he couldn’t turn off his brain no matter how much he wanted to.

“You should keep hugs to a minimum, Mario” he commented.

“Awww, you don’t like hugs?” he sounded a bit sad “Really funny how you hugged us so tight before… Mario don’t get it” he looked genuinely stumped.

“I don’t know! I do but I don’t. Just- Just keep them short… please?”

“Okie-dokie!!” Mario smiled “Hmmm… what should you pack for vacation….”

“I kind of don’t have anything” he laughed awkwardly.

“Uhuh… Not even a phone?”

“Nope”

“MmmmMMMMMMMMmmmmMMMMmmmmmm damn”

“Am I not enough by myself”

“I’m gonna ask Luigi if we can get you stuff, can’t just let you come with us with zero planning. That could generate issues we could combat right now instead of leaving it for later”

Mario left. His tone was different from usual. This man was LEADING and with GRACE at that. Puzzles felt starstruck. What the fuck? Sure, Mario had his moments acting a bit outside of who he is but this was so much more. He talked like… Like how he would. Eh, it’s probably nothing!

Luigi got dragged into the room.

“Mario brought Luigi here for you”

“Sorry” Puzzles already felt the apology escaping him. He didn’t think much about it right now afterall. He didn’t think anything. He definitely wasn’t thinking. Why would he be thinking right now? Don’t be silly! He was definitely not thinking and thinking till the end of the Earth! Only the old Puzzles would think about how much of a burden he felt like as soon as he was himself again. The new Puzzles would definitely not feel like he was worth nothing or even less, or that he didn’t deserve to be forgiven even if he was kind of brainwashed.

He was definitely not thinking about any of that. He would never. End of it.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Luigi tried to reassure Puzzles “You do need some things. I heard we’re going to the nearby beach so you need at least some kind of beach clothes. Can…. Can you even go in water?”

“Everything except my head”

“Then yeah! We need swimwear for you. And we need to go shopping anyways!”

“Are you sure?” Puzzles still tried to be nice but was trying to hide so hard that he wasn’t feeling okay mentally.

“Of course! We need spaghetti for Mario anyways so I wanted to go shopping! And maybe… I know where we could get you swimwear”

“Alright” Puzzles got up, hitting his head “Sorry, I’m so tall”

Luigi giggled.

“Well, sadly that’s one thing we can’t fix”

“I think I’ll get used to it”

“Hmm…” Mario thought out loud “Maybe you can squish the spiders up there for Mario”

“Sure thing, Mario” Puzzles smiled at him before turning away, not entertaining anything in himself. Such a stupid idea to overthink such a simple thing anyways. It did freeze Mario though, especially because of the way Puzzles would say his name. Maybe he was a little unwell about Puzzles. Even Luigi noticed the tension between the 2 but decided to brush it off.

“C’mon, guys! We gotta finish while it’s still bright outside!” He left the room, the other 2 soon followed. 

Mario was oddly quiet during the shopping trip until they went to a shop that seemed to be holding just- an abhorrent amount of swimwear of all sorts. Even styles Puzzles never saw before. He was a bit overwhelmed by the selection, although less and less as he reminded himself that about 90% of the stuff sold here won’t fit him considering how god damn tall he was. They went inside, looking around. The shopkeeper, a rather old lady, came out and immediately led the 3 men to the taller section. Now there Puzzles had the chance of finding something good!

They looked around, Puzzles started to feel rather picky. He didn’t know exactly what to go for. 

“Stumped?” Luigi looked up at Puzzles as he seemed to be struggling.

“I don’t know what I exactly want”

“Aren’t bikinis hot right now?” Mario chimed in “Mario was also thinking about getting some”

Puzzles flushed red.

“Me? Showing skin? Don’t be ridiculous!” Puzzles seemed rather defensive. And utterly embarrassed. 

“Mario! Don’t just say things without thinking!” 

“But I’m Mario” 

“You embarrassed him!”

The 2 brothers went onto arguing about boundaries while Puzzles searched further. In the end he found one of those one piece swimsuits that reach from elbow to knee and seemed satisfied with that. It was probably his best choice. Luigi bought it for him. After that they also got him some clothes so he could change later. Once again something that was hard to find at first but since their wonderful world was very diverse even without Puzzles’s amazing lankiness, they found clothes that fit him.

“I’ll pay it back though!” Puzzles said “Write it up somewhere and I’ll totally have it covered as soon as I start working again!”

“Okay okay!” Luigi tried to calm Puzzles down “This won’t drive me broke! If buying Mario a yacht’s worth of spaghetti each month doesn’t then nothing will”

“Oh that sounds like soooo much spaghetti” Mario salivated at the thought.

“Don’t entertain that idea!”

Puzzles laughed at the two.

“Alright but still write it down somewhere. I don’t want to use you too much”

Luigi nodded.

They got home. Luigi went to unload all the groceries while Puzzles got dragged to Mario’s room by Mario himself. He seemed to be going toddler tantrum mode by how tired the day had gotten him or maybe he was just upset he wouldn’t get a yacht’s worth of spaghetti. Even then, his grip on Puzzles was stronger than what should have been possible. 

Mario laid Puzzles down with ease and laid beside him with not much afterthought. He fell asleep fast and even then clung onto Puzzles pretty strongly. He could not escape. 

He couldn’t help it, he let his mind race. He didn’t know how he exactly felt about Mario but he really might make him act up at this rate and he wasn’t kidding. He was being so cute through all of this and at the swimwear shop what kind of sounded like flirting. It definitely wasn’t though! He doubted that Mario would pull out actual flirting just like that. Nobody ever made him feel this way and it was super infuriating for him.

He kind of ended up riling himself up as he angrily stared at Mario. That anger slowly slipped away. He couldn’t stay mad at him. He hadn’t known him for that long anyways, he could always just be feeling this way because experiences in general felt new to him. He just- won’t fully entertain this crazy shit right now but try his best to give himself space to process his feelings. Even if it might throw off the people around him. Even if it could cause him to be a  burden… He stopped at that. He also didn’t want to feel like dead weight around the crew. Especially as he imagined how god awfully awkward he’ll feel around everyone when they go on that vacation. This was gonna be really hard on him, even if he realised he needed space for his big feelings. He yawned. He felt tired too. He pulled the blanket off of the bed and tried his best to cover himself and Mario as well. Kind of weird, but they managed to fall asleep on the floor together. 

The 2 slept soundly together, as they tangled up more while sleeping. Considering how neither was a light sleeper, Luigi had an interesting sight to greet him when he went to Mario to tell him that breakfast was ready.

He giggled at the sight and even took a picture. That’ll be something he can tease Mario about later. He left the room quietly with an evil grin plastered on his face.

It took a while until Mario stirred. Even he was surprised that he was held so closely by Puzzles. And just how warm he was. And wasn’t nearly as hard as he thought he would be, considering his body was made of wires and cables. He actually felt really comfortable. Maybe a bit too comfortable. He still couldn’t quite understand what was going on in his brain. He just let the thoughts run across him as if his mind was a waterfall and these thoughts were feeble, unfit fish that are defenseless against the power of a waterfall. Just like how his thoughts were defenseless at Mario’s mind becoming so empty they become nothing as well. Though that just left him confused. He didn’t know if this was okay but hey! It was probably nothing. It’ll just solve itself in some roundabout way like how things usually just go off in a chain reaction around him. He was sort of used to things happening to him and around him. Just like when his Mighty Italian suffered at the merciless door’s slammige. Although he was panicked, things happening around him kind of solved it. Just like how a good but silly plot demands it. This time should be no different. Since there was a good and engaging start to this and it had slowly been ramping up, it should reach a satisfying conclusion. It was only fair, to make a story that could leave a mark on people… What… What were these thoughts? Even Mario himself was stumped at his thoughts. Maybe it was because he just woke up but he wasn’t exactly the type to have discussions like this inside his head for fun. He preferred his mind to have as much of a reverb as St. Stephen’s Basilica no less and with the most disgustingly awful sound system set up, so bad any words spoken are drenched in noise, losing clarity. Honestly, maybe even more. Make his mind as echoey as a hollow Earth would be and record it with an xbox type headset.

He looked up to Puzzles, discarding his thoughts as he observed Puzzles’s softly humming screen engulfed in static. It was rather mesmerising. He squirmed until he freed his hands and reached up to feel his screen. Even his screen was sort of warm, although harder than his body, there was still something startlingly alive about it. He became a little obsessed with it. And it seemed Puzzles chose the worst possible time to wake up.

Mario hesitantly pulled away his hands from Puzzles’s screen. 

“Hmmm?” Puzzles didn’t speak yet, just humming softly as he woke up.

“Good morning, TV man” Mario defaulted to being sort of polite. It seemed he couldn’t fully discard those thoughts now! Unfortunate. Suffer my gay wrath, Mario.

“Morning, Mario…” he yawned “How’d you sleep”

“Pretty good… you’re comfy” he giggled as he cuddled closer to Puzzles. To his dismay. Puzzles sat up. He whined. Puzzles pulled Mario off of him. 

“Physical affection time is over now” Puzzles said, rather dryly. 

Mario looked at him, with waves of sadness, waves that washed away in his blue eyes that got so big, pleading, looking at Puzzles just to give him one more second of physical closeness. Puzzles strongly averted his gaze. Although now he won’t be able to get those puppy eyes out of his mind. 

He stood up, this time more careful to not hit his head in the ceiling. 

Mario decided to brush it off. Though, once again, he couldn’t quite discard it all until he thought about breakfast.

“Oh, Mario’s gonna have breakfast” and there he went.

Puzzles sighed. Even yesterday, Mario got to him quite a lot but he didn’t have the heart to push him away. Especially not after what he ended up thinking about after Mario fell asleep. Although, based on how it all went down, it might not be the last time that Mario would fall asleep latched onto him. And he was a bit worried about the fact that it didn’t bother him. Though maybe it was better for him to get used to it. He knew he had to make some odd sacrifices to make his life work again. Or more like start working for the first time ever. 

He left to see Mario destroying breakfast. It was as if they made mukbang but violent. He already saw what Luigi meant by Mario being something to deal with. Luigi looked at him, they shared a look. He sat down with the brothers to eat with them. Although he didn’t need a lot to sustain himself, he still needed a bit. And as he did, the 2 brothers looked at him. Puzzles felt embarrassed.

“What?” he already tried to defend himself “can’t a man have his breakfast?”

“TV eats…. pretty cool” Mario was maybe a bit too joyful about Puzzles being able to eat.

“I just didn’t think about it before but it makes sense! Sorry if we caused you to feel bad”

Puzzles sighed.

“Thank you, apology accepted… I just don’t want to be seen as a freak is all…”

“Of course, it’s understandable”

“Mario will fight the haters for you” and he sounded serious about it too.

Puzzles was clearly flattered, maybe a bit flustered. Luigi looked between the 2. Puzzles looked at him. Luigi gave him a look that could only be described as having the vibe of ‘Idk what’s going on with you 2 but I’m not gonna get tangled in your problem’. Puzzles felt defeated.

“Say… When exactly is the vacation?” Puzzles changed the subject.

“This weekend”

“Oh huh! 2 more days then… At least I have time to attend to… actually getting a job”

“TV already getting a new job?”

“Yes, Mario” he said “Actually you interrupted me in the middle of it when I was asked to join my ex rival’s studio. Which is why I would’ve needed the- Wait we actually really did forget about getting me a phone” Puzzles stared off “How will I call them now?”

“You can use our land line!” 

“Oh, thank you! Maybe next time we go we can actually get me one”

“Sure thing, Puzzles! Let's hope we don’t forget next time”

“Yeah”

He got up and left, forcing the conversation to end. Mario watched him closely then stared at where he saw Puzzles leave.

Luigi took his phone out with the picture he took of the 2.

Mario noticed the motion under his face, looking down. He took a bit as he realised what he was looking at. He slowly flushed red. Luigi grinned at the reaction.

“I see you slept well” he teased Mario.

Mario couldn’t react as he turned away from Luigi, trying to hide his face. His ears being so red were giving away his thoughts though.

“Oh, dear god, you’re THAT smitten” Luigi laughed, now feeling a bit bad. Mario would usually try to throw hands at this point.

He looked back at him with the most genuine shock in his eyes.

“Smitten??!” he said with so much disbelief, he genuinely didn’t think about it that way.

Luigi stared at him.

“You didn’t think about that at all?”

“No!!! Mario is too stupid for stuff like that!” he seemed rather panicked now.

“Oh, bro” Luigi now just fully felt bad, as he wrapped an arm around his brother, trying to comfort him “I get that it can be hard to deal with these feelings-”

“Mario thought he could only love spaghetti” he started sobbing. Luigi looked unamused.

“...Just know I’m here to listen if you wanna talk about it, okay?” 

Mario nodded then hugged him. Good grief, he didn’t think he would need this so suddenly, just like this. He didn’t even know he could develop feelings in such an embarrassing way. He wasn’t the cool and easygoing Mario anymore, he was stupid and scared now. Sure, he could be scared but it wasn't exactly usual for him to feel this anxious. Not even Peach could make him feel that way while she was around and he still sort of liked her. He never felt like he’s fumbling a bad bitch or something, especially because that fumbling was part of their relationship in a way. However here he felt so much more, being scared he couldn’t be enough for the man he happened to fall for a little bit. Maybe it’ll just pass! That was an on and off thing with a certain someone who wasn’t Peach. And he even grew pretty casual about it too! But this… Mario was fucked. As in utterly, deeply and strongly fucked.

He sighed which drew attention from his brother.

“Mario thinks it’ll pass. Just very intense right now. Way too intense” by the end it sounded like he was whining. 

Luigi chuckled and patted his back.

“If that makes it easier to sleep at night”

Puzzles took a while, it felt like time stopped. But he came back afterall. Why did Mario feel he was gone forever? He wouldn’t leave… would he? When… When he is able to make good money he probably will.

Mario stayed oddly quiet while Luigi and Puzzles were discussing something entirely unimportant to him. It was all just noise. His head never felt so full, it felt suffocating. Uncomfortably so. So many things he had been through yet this broke him in a way he didn’t know could happen to him. He quietly got up and got himself more spaghetti to occupy himself with something. Luigi didn’t say a thing, just glanced at him. Puzzles was none the wiser about the fact that Mario wasn’t just having seconds, he was actively coping with eating. 

The day passed by. Puzzles had the job now, he would start as soon as he got back from the vacation they so suddenly invited him to. More like Mario invited him. From what little he could guess from what he saw and heard, SMG4 really didn’t like him. Not that he had a problem with that, he had every right to. He just knew it could easily make things awkward. Especially because he didn’t know what to expect. Hell, what if he ruins the whole outing? Just making it awful for everyone around…. It truly scared him. In these times, he was weirdly glad he had Mario sometimes latching onto him in his koala kind of manner. Though he did draw the line at his screen being used to watch stuff. Sure, he had so much love for television himself and all- but that was his face! And his face is there to be a face, not to just be your usual household equipment. Mario did try every so often though until he seemed to reach a breaking point with it. He was REALLY bored but he also didn’t want to bother Puzzles into… maybe even hating him. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Mario was struggling, oscillating between being beside Puzzles or not. He finally put his foot down, abruptly leaving. Puzzles was sure puzzled by this. Staring a hole into the door, as if the door did something to him. He realised what he was doing was dumb as hell as he pushed himself up from the floor and left the room. No one was inside so he left the house to look around. He found Luigi tending to their garden in the back. It was small but really pristine and well-kept. He did know it was a passion of his so it didn’t surprise him but he thought it would be bigger.

“Anything wrong?” he must have stared because this was a question he got from Luigi.

“Oh no, not really! I was just- looking around is all. And it felt a little lonely inside.” 

Luigi hummed.

“If you want to know, Mario left to SMG4”

“Ah! I see! Not… Not that I asked it but thank you”

“Sure” Luigi said with sarcasm which Puzzles did not pick up on at all.

For a while he didn’t do much until he had quite the grand idea. He looked around the house on his own, searching for stuff to aid his idea. On his quest for a pen or pencil and paper, he found personal stuff which he didn’t mean to. Like pictures and notes about adventures they both had. He sighed, happy that they both had such an eventful life, but also feeling jealous for the very same reason. He wished that were him. He shook his head, though he couldn’t help but wonder about all those adventures as they slowly seeped into his idea, tainting it so so sweetly. And it showed. His idea wasn’t only his anymore. But he did like it. 

He started to sketch out concept shots for it as well, full of drama and plans for all sorts of lighting, camera angles, scenery, the practical effects, even ending up pondering about the sound effects, the kind of music he’d use. It’s almost like his love for filmmaking never left him.

By the time Mario got back from an adventure with SMG4 which he induced by causing problems, as he tends to from time to time, he found his room covered in a lot of doodles, with Puzzles being in the middle of it. He looked like he was consumed by it but didn’t seem bothered by it. Grinning happily and without care in his metaphorical black hole of passion. Mario found the smile rather contagious. He couldn’t help but stare at everything, taking in so much detail. Usually his head would explode over such actions, especially because there were words he had to read, or refuse to take in information but today seemed different. He took it with open arms, just like the man in the middle of this beautiful mess.

Their eyes met, shared a few moments of eye contact. The realness of it all, it was sickening and weird. Mario wished some really bad things while being so deeply enamored. Made him wish he never existed. 

Puzzles on the other hand was more confused although flustered. He didn’t think about it too much before but Mario’s opinion on him might have mattered more to him than he let on.

The stare off ended as Puzzles awkwardly spoke up.

“Uhh- hey, Mario! Are you interested in my work?”

Mario took a bit.

“Mario doesn’t know what you’re making but it looks cool”

“Oh they are just plans for scenes I was thinking about! You see, my plans are always all over the place but they always come together in the end!”

“Hmmmmmm….” Mario thought strongly “Like a puzzle”

Puzzles got flustered at the comment as it hit him. He felt stupid for not realising it sooner. He didn’t even choose it because of that, even though this was right there to justify it.

“Oh, dear, aren’t you so smart!” he laughed, slowly letting the awkwardness pass him by. 

Mario shook his head.

“Barely if ever”

“Exceptions exist just for that you know”

“Uh- Guess so? Wouldn’t know”

“Say… would you like to listen to me talk about all this?” he gestured at all his notes and sketches.

Mario thought for a bit then answered rather unusually. 

“Sure, yeah” he sat down beside Puzzles as he started going over the intricacies of building up his perfect scenes. Even having them connect so well, although a full script or story was currently not finished, they were genuinely falling into place. Such an impossible feat, working like that. No wonder he was considered a catch if he can do things like that. And Mario ate it all up. Nodding along to his words whenever he looked for validation to continue, without even thinking much about it. It just all came so unsettlingly natural. 

It felt like so much time had passed when Luigi knocked on their door and opened it, seeing Mario leaning on Puzzles while Puzzles was full of excitement talking.

Luigi giggled at the sight which alerted the 2. Although both were flustered Mario was the one who had it worse. 

“Just wanted ask you 2 if you want dinner” Luigi said as he put a hand on his hip, teasing them.

“Oh hmm dinner haha!!” Mario spoke nervously as he got up fast and ran for the kitchen. Puzzles rolled his eyes, looking a little disappointed.

“I see you’ve been working on stuff” Luigi said, pointing at all the stuff scattered on the floor.

“I’ll clean up!”

“Of course!” Luigi giggled “That’s not why I mentioned it”

“Then…?”

“It’s just great to see you have fun! Now come and eat, you probably didn’t eat all day and that’s not good”

Puzzles got up with a smile on his face. He really was having fun. Especially… when Mario joined. Although that thought was quite complex for him and one that made his head hurt, he still couldn’t wipe off the grin he got going on. He felt almost controlled by it. Not in a bad way, just in the way that he couldn’t hide his happiness at all.

They all sat down. Mario devoured food like a bottomless pit while the other 2 ate a normal amount. Mario eating was a bit too loud this time to make casual talk. The way he sounded, he might as well be choking on pasta at the rate he was taking it in his mouth, making sure he had a good mouthful. And this made him messy as all hell as well, if the absolutely disgusting noises he made weren’t enough. Luigi sometimes glanced at his brother, concerned. He did that enough for Puzzles to notice as well. 

As soon as they finished, Luigi grabbed Mario without a word, dragging him to shower. Mario was screaming about not wanting to shower. Puzzles just watched, awkwardly waving him goodbye, as if out of solidarity. And it was but Puzzles was scared if it looked like he was mocking Mario for getting forced to shower. 

He sat there awkwardly for a bit before he decided to go back to Mario’s room. He tidied up his notes and put them neatly together in a way he knew he could use it again. Order was important to him, sometimes the only thing soothing his anxieties.

He sat down on the floor, then slowly flopped over. His ever so crazy creativity going so fast before drowned out his sleepiness but now it came out full force. He thought over the day as he closed his eyes, noting his thoughts one by one. Being invited to hang out with people who he hurt before. He was scared of how that could go. He would understand if they threw him out immediately after seeing him. Hell, maybe it would be a mistake to take him at all! Even when not possessed, he was still a nuisance, not ready for the world at all. And he felt like the world wasn’t ready for him either. Maybe he’ll just choose to stay away from the others and not talk to anyone! Maybe they would even be glad. Yes. Of course. What else would be a better choice than shutting the hell up as soon as he is around people who could easily make him feel awful even just with a slightly negative glance. He would crumble if he even uttered a word. 

The door to the room opened momentarily shaking Puzzles out of his thoughts. Then fully as he saw that Mario was wearing pink pajamas with a mushroom pattern. The mushrooms had faces and looked like they were ripped from some kind of obscure children’s show. Both the top and bottom had mushrooms. What made it actually kind of funny was the miserable face Mario held. Puzzles chuckled at the sight, he found it way too silly like this.

“You like Mario’s drip?”

“Sure do” Puzzles chuckled again “It fits you well”

Mario rolled his eyes.

“What do you know, Puzzles!” He was clearly playing it up dramatically, and he was failing at even acting like it. He was grinning so much. 

Puzzles yawned.

“Well, I know the day had been long”

Mario stepped rather close to Puzzles, clearly expecting something.

Puzzles looked at him, knowing exactly what he wanted. They hadn’t spent too much time together yet but reading Mario was quickly becoming easy for him. He sighed as he got up.

“Okay, but I’m gonna shower first”

Mario sat down, looking up at him with big puppy eyes.

Puzzles groaned at the sight, was it convincing? Absolutely. Was he gonna practice self control for the sake of not only himself but his hygiene? Also yes.

“After I shower I’m yours all night just stop making that face”

Mario nodded. Puzzles left.

Mario was left to his now mildly filled head. It was bouncing thoughts so awfully. He wished he could think about pasta forever but sadly that wasn’t possible for him. Even before, but now even less. It felt like his head from comfortable silence went to experience white noise. Ever so constant, out of nowhere too. He couldn’t say he fully hated it though. Every once in a while, he just wanted to embrace it so strongly, with his whole body, just the amount of passion he felt even just the thought of expressing it shook him sober. Sober on the idea that he genuinely gained feelings for someone like Puzzles. He didn’t like feeling this aware.

Puzzles came back, Mario’s cloud of soberness immediately dissipated into a different world as he latched onto Puzzles. Puzzles felt a little hot over it. At least he could blame it on the hot shower he took.

“Not wasting a single moment, huh?” he teased Mario, kind of half intentionally. Lot of mixed feelings about it but he didn’t want it to end. It was actually kind of nice.And being sleepy did make him clingier as well.

“Nuh-uh”

Puzzles chuckled as he held Mario in his arms while he laid down.

“Say…” Mario started, looking up at Puzzles.

“Hm?”

“Would you like to come over tomorrow to SMG4’s as well?”

“I- I’m not sure he would like that”

“C’mon! I’ll convince him”

“I- I don’t even know what I would say when I’m there. Doesn't everyone else in your friend group hate me? I did bad things so it would be only fair”

“Times are changing, TV man!” Mario playfully booped Puzzles.

“Are you sure?”

“It would also be good to test the grounds before the vacation”

“Test the grounds, huh? I’ll say… I like the way you think”

Mario seemed to freeze. 

“You good, Mario?”

“You got Mario confused… what thinking did he do?”

Puzzles was looking at him, kind of confused but more disappointed.

“C’mon, Mario, I know those braincells of yours can work out some beautiful things. I’ve seen it”

Mario blushed at the compliment but played it off.

“But Mario got no braincells, only himself! That was all Mario original”

Puzzles couldn’t help it, he laughed at the silly joke.

“You know what, just for that, I’ll go with you tomorrow, just make sure you help out if things get bad”

“Yay! Mario will be your cool white knight”

Puzzles couldn’t help the smile that was growing on his screen just thinking about that.

“Alright. Now sleep”

They slowly fell asleep, in such a sure place. Sure as in right. Might be just the weird feelings in them but it felt like their bond strengthened. Maybe they could even take over the world with what they got. God damn it, good for them! Good for them.

The next morning rose, along with Puzzles first this time. He wanted to get Mario off of himself so he could dress up, considering he was in his pajamas. He actually didn’t like loose fitting clothing like this too much on himself. Sure, they were more comfortable to sleep in but that didn’t mean he would like them.

But by GOD, he didn’t have the heart to wake Mario like this. He could imagine the expression he would pull on him if he tried. And that expression is deeply dangerous!

So all he could do was lie there, taking it as if it was a punishment. He wasn’t necessarily that miserable though.

After a while of lying there, he made up his mind. He REALLY wanted to get dressed. And of course, he was right. He got the most sad puppy look of Mario.

“Please just let me dress up”

Mario whined but let go of Puzzles, letting him grab his stuff and then leave to dress in the bathroom.

Mario was looking at the door until Puzzles appeared again. Lucky for himself, he was too sleepy yet to have further thought. All he knew was that he was already missing the warmth. As soon as he was back, Puzzles opened his arms for Mario to come back to.

It wasn’t exactly the same but it still satiated him.

“You know, I never would’ve guessed you would be clingy” Puzzles noted casually while getting his notes out of where he put them to make sure they still made sense. 

“Oh, Mario’s been this way… he would often sleep at SMG4’s for this reason”

“You… would cuddle SMG4?”

“Yes. Anything wrong with it?”

“No, I was just cur-”

“Maybe jealous?”

Puzzles lit red at the accusation.

“I’m not jealous! Don’t be ridiculous!” 

Mario laughed. 

“Mario believes you”

“Thank you”

Puzzles went back to sorting his notes again, although still a bit bothered.  The more he thought about it, he DID feel a bit jealous. And he felt so stupid for it. He shouldn’t even have the audacity to feel that way. 

Mario clinging onto him did sooth the silly thoughts he didn’t want to have. 

Mario let his grip loosen as he turned to the notes. He was looking at them pretty intently.

Puzzles noticed as well.

“Anything wrong, Mario?”

“Just…. this” he pointed at one of the notes which was detailing a character of the movie Puzzles was working on. It was the protagonist.

“Yes?”

“You were saying this character doesn’t have a motive to do things he does yet”

“Yeah?” Puzzles was puzzled by the verbose thoughts from Mario but listened nonetheless.

“A great motivation would be love. For this character” he pointed at another character, it was actually the secondary protagonist “You said you want this character to be more goofy but I think it would make it interesting if these 2 had something more going on. Especially because you could also show a motive for the murder in act 3. Maybe just make that character a little worse and there!”

Puzzles was staring at Mario. Oh, his mind was full of so many thoughts. And he looked so…. Uhuh, Puzzles, what were you thinking there? 

“That… Actually works pretty well. Hell, it could even work as a twist at the end! So unexpected that the comedic character could end up as the motivator. That they were… always meant to be lovers”

“Even better” Mario laughed “Better write it down”

Puzzles hummed.

“Now Mario’s gonna get breakfast”

“Have a great feast” Puzzles teased Mario.

“Mmmmm feast” Mario walked out with a silly smile on his face, thinking about how big a feast can get. Since this was about Mario, probably very big.

Puzzles looked over his notes and corrected over with the new detail where he saw fit. With a few corrections, the story really felt more whole now. Something about the fact that Mario helped him with it also made him love it more. He wondered if he was supposed to feel bad about that. He and Mario didn’t know each other for too long yet so… would it be… would it be bad to say…

Puzzles shook his head as he clumsily reassembled his notes and hastily put them away as he went outside. Why was this so hard to think about?

He left the room to see Mario indeed finished his feast at this point. He was actually lying down on the floor at this point.

Puzzles looked down at Mario confused.

“Mario’s coping” he said weakly.

Puzzles chuckled, smiling down at him.

“Understandable”

They gazed into each other’s eyes until Luigi disturbed them. 

“Puzzles, I have a lot of work around here, can you help? I’d ask Mario but I don’t know-”

“Mario was planning to go to SMG4! WITH Mr Puzzles too!”

Luigi sighed.

“Can you help me with this at least?” Luigi almost pleaded to Puzzles.

“But of course”

“Hmph” Mario stumped off, making sure he’s very far from housework.

“He can be quite a handful sometimes” Luigi sighed again.

“But of course” Puzzles said, chuckling.

Luigi watched him catiously, while still cleaning another dirty plate left by Mario’s Mario-sized feast.

“You like him a lot, huh?”

Puzzles seemed to go into deep thought as he thought over that. 

“I guess so… in some ways”

“Some ways?” Luigi seemed puzzled by the Puzzle himself.

“I… do like spending time with him. He can be nice… my opinion can always change though! I could always… end up hating him”

“Hey I get that. Having any kind of relation with Mario isn’t exactly the easiest thing. He IS hard to handle and can be awful to handle- he can do awful things, sometimes even just to spite you. But when he doesn’t do that I do think he’s worth it. I wouldn’t have anyone else as my brother”

“That’s sweet, Luigi… I just don’t know if I’ll last beside him…”

“Oh?”

“It’s just- maybe I… I don’t know…” Puzzles got rather quiet by the end.

“If you’re scared Mario doesn’t like you, I can assure you he does. He doesn’t exactly latch onto people just like that”

Puzzles felt his screen heat up over the mention of the clinginess Mario could prosper in.

“Okay…”

“Is that all?”

“No… It’s very hard to get back to- everything. And I- never had a real friend before. Even before the- possession, I didn’t focus on it as much as I should have”

“Well… then you just have to be patient. I think you know things will be hard and that shouldn’t stop you”

“Right…. thanks, Luigi”

“Anytime”

“I’m also uh…. I also wanna ask for advice. Because I was convinced to tag along with Mario to SMG4’s and I…”

“You’re scared the crew is gonna hate you?”

“Yeah…”

“I get that, I’d be scared if I were you too. Some of them can be hard headed. But they can be really kind too. If you just act like yourself I think you should be fine”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They might make fun of you but they do that to each other all the time. You should’ve seen how SMG3 and SMG4 were before- But they still all love each other, so who's to say they couldn’t love you too?”

“Mhmm… Yea, you’re making a lot of sense”

“I know. I’m sure you’ll do fine. With Mario as well”

“Thank you, Luigi. Now I’ll feel forever indebted to you”

“Oh you” 

After they finished with the dishes, Puzzles went to get Mario so they could go to SMG4’s. 

He wasn’t in his room.

“Mario?” he called out for him “There aren’t more dishes left, we can go”

No answer.

Panic set.

It’ll be okay! It’ll be so. Fine.

“Mario, please?”

He waited in the room.

“This isn’t the time for games, please”

He paced in the room before leaving the room. He went to Luigi.

“I can’t find him”

“Mario? Hmm” 

Luigi went to the front door. He opened it. He took a big breath in. Puzzles watched in anticipation. 

“MAAARIIIOOOOOOOOOO” he shouted, he sounded amplified,, Puzzles swore he could feel the vibrations of his voice. It must carry far if it was this loud for him. How the hell did he do that? Some kind of Mario brothers gimmick or something? He wasn’t sure.

A worried Mario showed up, seemingly coming from the road he’d take to SMG4’s. Even though he was nervous, Puzzles’s heart sank. Did he not want to bring him along? Maybe he really was a burden.

“Mario! You left Puzzles here!”

Mario froze.

“Oh-” 

Puzzles didn’t say a word.

Mario collected his thoughts.

“Sorry- You still want to come?”

“Sure” Puzzles said, sounding rather defeated.

The 2 set off, Luigi could finally relax while 2 were to fight off tension.

They were silent for a while then, Puzzles not even looking Mario’s way.

“Hey… I’m sorry if I upset you. I… didn’t mean to just- ran after my empty head-”

“I thought you didn’t wanna bring me”

“What?? Why else would Mario ask you??”

“I… I don’t know, to take pity on me?”

“Mario doesn’t take pity”

“But.. you took me in as well-”

“Because Mario finds you cool!”

Puzzles felt himself getting hotter over the compliment.

“You think so?”

“Of course!”

“Well, I… I think you’re cool too” Puzzles chuckled with a lovestruck expression. 

Mario never felt so in love. Damn it.

He jumped up and hugged Puzzles, which halted him as he didn’t want to fall over. He stood for a bit before Mario spoke up, looking up at Puzzles with big puppy eyes.

“Can Mario stay here?”

Puzzles chuckled, trying to stifle his embarrassment with little success.

“Sure, but we’ll keep going”

“Good with Mario”

Puzzles went on, with Mario wrapped on him. He held him with one arm while letting the other relax by his side, following the rhythm of his stride as he followed the path to SMG4’s.

By the time they got there, both got rather used to the contact. It was hard to deny it was rather comfortable.

He saw some of the crew outside, seemingly discussing something. It was Meggy, SMG3 and SMG4, with Eggdog and Beeg there. They noticed the 2. 4 immediately went back to the discussion while the other 2 waved at them. He waved back awkwardly.

“We’re here?” Mario asked.

“We sure are… Do you want to get off?”

“Well, if Mario needs to…” Mario reluctantly loosened his grip on Puzzles, landing on his feet without trouble.

 Mario walked ahead and Puzzles followed behind, still an air of awkwardness with him. The glance 4 took at him alone brought back all the anxiety he was feeling before. 

“Hey you 2!” Meggy greeted the 2. 

“Didn’t know Puzzles was coming today as well, good to see you though” 3 said, while carefully looking to 4 too. He knew something was going on with him. Puzzles understood what he was getting.

“Hi” 4 said as he turned around, only one glance at Puzzles then looking at Mario. Even that single glance burned him.

“Mario, remember when we were talking about an event idea for 3’s café?”

They started talking about something Puzzles couldn’t contribute to. So he just stood there awkwardly. Not wanting to go anywhere because he didn’t want to leave Mario’s side but also wanted to leave so badly because he was feeling so awkward. And it definitely didn’t help that he was also really tall compared to the others. Really made him feel like he was never meant to fit in. He wished he could sink into the floor until he felt someone poke him on his forearm. He turned around to see Tari.

“Hi” she said, with a look of understanding. 

“Hey?” he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“You weren’t here before so I was wondering how good you are at games!” she said, already dragging him along. 

“Oh! Sure!” 

Mario looked at him.

“Okay! Happy gaming for you!”

Tari brought Puzzles inside, letting him take a seat on the couch in the gaming room.

“Okay… Puzzles” she looked at him with certain firmness, a sort of care “You looked like a shaking leaf. Sorry if I- appeared suddenly, I just wanted to help you out. You don’t need to game if you don’t want to”

“Uh- Thanks, Tari. I want to try at least. Just be gentle heh” he chuckled.

“But only this time”

Tari brought up Smash and showed Puzzles the controls and showed off stuff in game as well. Letting him get used to it, he didn’t play super awful. He didn’t win a single time but he did put up a good fight. 

“Sorry, Puzzles” Tari was feeling bad “It’s really hard to turn my gamer brain off. You could try fighting against a bot?”

“A bot?”

“Yeah. It’s a player controlled by the game”

“Sounds good”

They played for a while until Meggy appeared there too.

“Gaming going well?” she asked as she sat beside Tari.

“Sure is” Puzzles smiled “I didn’t know games could be so much fun”

“And this is only one! We have quite a few more here. I also have other games I sometimes bring over” Tari cheered.

“By the way” Meggy spoke more quietly “Sorry I couldn’t help you out, Puzzles. I wanted to but the talk of the café event was pretty important too.

“No worries. What’s it gonna be?”

“We’re still in the idea phase. Maid event came up but 3 shot it down”

“Maids, huh? I’d prefer butler” Tari said.

“To dress as one or to be served by one?” Meggy asked.

“Both” Tari giggled.

“Well, now I want to be a butler for it. Maybe I’ll mention that to 3.

“Oh, yeah, how did you manage to get away?”

Meggy took a bit to reply.

“Well… 4 wanted to talk to Mario privately”

Both girls hummed while Puzzles froze.

“Oh, I hope it’s nothing bad”

It was something bad, Mario could feel as he followed 4, rather quietly. It felt like if he tried anything he would be killed on sight.

“So” 4 sat down on his bed, patting the spot beside him for Mario to sit down. Mario hesitated but sat down.

“Did Mario do something wrong?”

“I’ll decide that when I know more. You are pretty clingy with him, huh?”

Mario turned red. Not only did this feel like an interrogation, it was also about his maybe-kinda-probably crush.

“Guess so” he looked away.

“Did he do something to you? Hurt you? Manipulate you? Why are you letting him live with you?”

“Mario just… wanted to be kind”

“That can’t be it. You can tell me if he tried to threaten you”

“But he didn’t! He’s actually really nice”

4 didn’t seem satisfied with the answer.

“He must have gotten to you badly”

“Oh, awfully” Mario flushed at the thought. 

4 wasn’t happy.

“You like him or something??” he asked, anger dripping out of his words.

The longer Mario didn’t reply the more sure 4 was.

“I can’t believe you. We don’t even know if we can REALLY trust him!”

“You’re not even giving him a chance!”

“You wouldn’t either if you knew what I went through because of him!”

“You would if you knew what happened in the void!”

“Shut up! He probably manipulated you then as well!”

“Why are you so insistent? Are you jealous or something?!”

“I just want to protect you” 4 sighed, lowering his voice “You’re important to me, Mario. You’re my best friend”

Mario didn’t know how to reply as he left the room, tears falling from his eyes.

“Wait!” 4 ran after him.

The 3 in the gaming room heard Mario leave. Puzzles felt it in his soul. He was terribly sad. And scared. 

“We have to check on him. He’s doing awful” Puzzles said.

The 2 girls followed him. They went to Mario outside but 4 was still trying to catch him.

“It’s gonna be worse if he betrays you when you like him” 4 shouted after Mario. He didn’t realise the other 3 were there.

Meggy ran up beside 4, grabbing him by the shoulder with force.

“You’re just making him more upset! This won’t make anything better!!”

“But what if he tries something?? He can’t-”

“Yeah, what if I try something?” Puzzles spoke up, while looking down. He wasn’t being silly, he felt scared. 

“It’s like he’s confessing to a crime right now!! Can he really be trusted??”

“Is it too far-fetched to say someone could redeem himself? Or did you never actually trust SMG3?” Mario spoke up, rather angry at 4. Throwing words he might not mean later but he was so angry. It engulfed him and Puzzles too. Puzzles could feel it burn, he was so mad. 

“That’s fucking different!” 4 lunged at him after prolonged silence. 

“And how so?? Do you have proof??” 

“Why would you say something like this about someone like him??”

“Because you speak like that about Puzzles”

“Because- UGH” 4 gave up as he walked away, leaving without another word. His aura somehow seemed to remain though as the 4 of them couldn’t say a word for a while now.

Mario was the first one to do anything, he walked up to Puzzles and held one of his hands in his.

“I trust you, don’t worry” he looked up at him, showing a hopeful smile. Puzzles smiled back.

“Thank you. At least someone… believes that”

“Hey, we believe in you too!” Tari said.

“Yeah! We’re here for you, Puzzles. Even if you did bad things in the past”

“I guess… SMG4 just doesn’t forgive. But honestly I get it. I did awful things. Then again I helped him get with SMG3-” he joked lightly. Mario chuckled at it.

“In a weird way, yeah” Meggy and Tari chuckled too.

Puzzles was glad his silly moment was a hit with the crowd. Good grade for socialisation. 

“But back to it. You’re right… it seems he doesn’t forgive easily. I’m sorry if this made things hard for you” Meggy apologised for 4. 

“You don’t need to be sorry!” Puzzles reassured her “I just hope he’ll be able to calm down. I… I don’t hate him”

“Puzzles is right, we can’t apologise for someone else. 4 will have to do that himself” Tari reassured Meggy, who earned a smile in return.

“By the way, we could go back to gaming” Puzzles suggested.

“Let’s go gaming!!” Mario cheered.

The 4 went back inside to keep playing fun games.

4 paced in his room, starting to doubt stuff. He swore he was right, he was so sure he was right. This man, he knew, he had wicked plans. Wicked plans to ruin people. He almost ruined SMG3, his world, he almost ruined his world for good. It made him so angry. The idea that he could lose his best friend that… that monster. It made him so angry. He wanted nothing more than to cut him out of their life. He wished he didn’t exist at all. So nobody would’ve gotten hurt by his schemes, let that be trauma from being killed several times, risk of losing your privacy, losing oneself to perfection, losing oneself to self loathing and the idea that you’re not enough. He had an impressive collection of things he had done and he didn’t understand how anyone could trust him. How Mario seemed to adore him so much…

Did… Did Mario fall in love with Puzzles?

No… No way. He would act differently about that. He was just… Maybe Mario is playing 4D chess with Puzzles. Sure.

Stop lying to yourself, SMG4. You know very well that you are just trying to make yourself feel better because you can’t cope with the things that happened to you. You’re lashing out because you feel alienated. But you don’t know that. You can’t put it into words. All you know is that you hate Puzzles.

You hate him so much.

He paced around a little more. It was so unfair. Why did it only have to be him?

He left the castle, walking. Just walking. Somehow ending up right back in the café.

“Hey, where were you bl- Oh my god” 3 reacted accordingly to how 4 looked. He looked so messed up.

3 dragged him away to fix him up as much as he could.

“You can’t be serious” 3 whined.

“It’s not fair” it was all 4 could say.

“What’s not fair? I’ll listen” 3 said, cupping 4’s face. But instead of saying anything he burst into tears. 

3 hugged 4, not really caring much about someone screaming outside to order.

“There there…I’m guessing this is about Mr Puzzles”

“Yeah…” 4 said, kind of ashamed in a way. It was hard to deal with the fact that no one else seemed to care.

“You know… I don’t like him too much either but… I don’t really want to concentrate on it. I’d rather give him space to improve than to… push him into new villainy.”

“But… He could take Mario from us… What would I…. Would I be a good friend if I lost him just like that, because I let things happen?”

“Blue, you’re making things worse right now… I bet Mario isn’t happy about this either. And he can fend for himself. Don’t take the guardian part of your name this seriously”

“But I… 3…” 4 seemed to press on.

3 hugged him tighter.

“I’m hugging the worry out of you, 4”

4 chuckled.

“You’re being so silly right now”

“And you’re smiling about it. It’s working.”

“You know you could… do something else to get the worry out of me…”

3 was staring at 4. 4 was staring at 3 with an emotion he identified way too quickly.

“Shush… Don’t tempt me right now. After work you can”

“Bummer”

3 gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Too bad! Now work, slave” he said jokingly as he then left outside to finally take the yelling costumer’s order.

4 sighed, getting himself together. He couldn’t fail 3. He already did bad enough today.

The day went by rather decently. Even if the feelings didn’t leave. They festered in their minds. Almost unkillable. With so much guilt. Rage. Anxiety. Love. So much.

Hard to bear. Too hard.

The night grew closer. Mario excused himself for a walk from gaming. 

It felt like he was in a bubble. The world felt unreal around him. So many things happening. Weighing on him. He didn’t want any of this. He wondered if he deserved it anyways. Pain. Pain. Pain. Love. Pain. Guilt. Pain. Sadness. Love. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

Guilt.

He ran and ran until he felt his soul reach back to Earth. He looked around, it was dark. Just a dark night. It was comforting. He sat down in the grass looking up at the sky. Being alone was like medicine. Sure, he enjoyed his time playing with his friends as well. Especially with Puzzles. He actually managed to beat Mario in smash because he got distracted with him. He may have a competitive heart but it’s also really stupid. Nevertheless, the grin and cheer of Puzzles made it feel like Mario won instead. Won guilt.

Guilt.

Guilt.

Was it his fault that SMG4 was acting that way? How could he ever make sure this didn’t happen again? He cared so much about him. He wanted to make things better for him so badly. 

Love.

Puzzles. He… 

Guilt.

He couldn’t ever hurt him. Even if he was forced, he’d fail to. 

So there’s only one person he could actually hurt.

He went back inside. The thought not leaving his mind. 

But he pretended. He pretended he was fine. But it was eating him up.

There was only one person he could actually hurt. For the benefit of his best friend.

And nobody noticed a thing. 

He went back home with Puzzles.  Nobody noticed.

He got home and had a shower. And still, nobody noticed. 

He told Puzzles he’d be back after a midnight snack. He still didn’t seem to notice.

Mario left the room. With steps that felt heavy but were lighter than a feather. He didn’t need Luigi to know. He took all sharp utensils out of the drawers. cutting himself in the process. It hurt.

But it didn’t do a thing. It was like the scene changed and his hands weren’t even hurt now. As pristine as ever. he bashed his hands on as many sharp edges as possible. Hoping for something to stick but nothing. It was like the world was against him hurting himself.

He cursed to himself as he tried again and again. While his hands didn’t retain even a sign of hurt, his blood still remained. Odd. He did feel a bit light headed. He tried to stab himself as well, in as many places as he could think of but it all yielded the same result of nothing truly sticking. But that might have been from him concentrating so hard on hurting himself. To get him out of this hell he put himself into. He made a big mistake. If only he waited enough inside that void for the meme guardians to save him. If only he didn’t feel a sort of kinship. If only he didn’t start liking Puzzles. If only it was so easy to cut him out of his life. If it was only so easy to make SMG4 happy. If it was only so easy for Mario to be happy. To not worry. To not feel guilty. To not feel like the cause of everything bad happening.

He felt frustrated, not knowing what he could use.

Puzzles appeared, soft light coming from his room as Puzzles seemed to turn on a smaller one. It gave him a glow. Like a saviour.

“Mario? What are you doing?” Puzzles asked, trying to keep back just how worried he was.

Mario didn’t react.

If only he didn’t take out the piece. If only he didn’t feel bad for it.

The piece…

The piece. 

Mario, without a word, bolted for the door, leaving in record speed. Puzzles went after him.

He ran after him as much as he could. But he couldn’t keep up.

He cried, holding it right at the scar. The ties. It hurt. It hurt from the pain Mario felt.

Puzzles locked eyes with the ground, concentrating. The energy, he felt it connecting the 2 of them. He searched in it. A blinding power. 

And he concentrated on it further. He wanted this to be over so badly it brought physical results.

He stopped Mario in his tracks. With only his mind. He finally managed to catch up and catch Mario in his arms.

Puzzles felt warm and comforting. The light was still strong but slowly dimmed as Puzzles held Mario in his arms.

They didn’t need to speak a word. Mario tightly hugged back, crying into Puzzles’s shoulder. 

They were there for a while. 

Just in each other’s arms, settled in silence. They understood. As much they could.

Mario’s sniffles slowly calmed down. Puzzles got up, with his arms still wrapped around Mario as he began to walk back right to their room.

Even the walk was silent but both sure were thinking. Especially as they passed by the painful red reminder. Puzzles felt like he got there too late. That he should’ve listened to the signs earlier. At least he still caught Mario from doing something bad. 

They got in their room. Puzzles settled down.

“Listen…” Puzzles started carefully “You don’t need to explain yourself if you don’t want to. That’s fine. I know you’re going through a lot I can feel it and I’m sorry… I wish I could help you more. You… helped me and… here I am… making life hell for you…”

Mario grabbed Puzzles’s head. He had a rather firm grip. They were looking at each other.

Puzzles still had that guilty look.

“I’m really sorry, Mario I-”

But before he could say another word, Mario pressed a kiss on Puzzles’s screen, immediately shutting him up. 

“You’re so much, Puzzles”

Puzzles didn’t even know what to say, his screen was just increasingly heating up. In fact he was way too hot. Mario took his hand away from his face as even through his gloves he could feel the heat becoming too hot.

“Ouch, you could fry an egg on your face” Mario tried to joke. 

Puzzles seemed frozen until he slammed Mario down and held him. He held him so hard. Something about that just made him open up more than anything else. He felt like his soul was ripped open and it felt better than anything he ever felt. 

Mario felt a bit helpless under the weight of Puzzles. Not that he minded. It was actually kind of comfortable. 

Mario wondered what SMG4 would think.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, Puzzles rose up, straddling Mario, face to face.

“What are you thinking?” Puzzles asked, a sort of carefulness carrying in his tone. Showing how cautious he was but especially just how much he cared.

Mario felt hot himself, which was obvious as Puzzles screen wasn’t exactly dim enough to hide that.

“I want you”

That stopped both. Now you’ve done it!

The 2 just stared at each other.

“I need you” Puzzles one upped the other, leaning a little closer. 

This felt like a dream.

Mario pulled Puzzles’s head down enough to press another kiss on it. 

How could this feel so natural? Brain in havoc.

As another kiss. Another move. The comfortable pressure. A bite.

A bite?

A bite into the neck. But a gentle one at Puzzles’s neck, which slowly intensified. It was like Mario knew exactly how to get to him. It felt like this could escalate further before Puzzles stopped Mario from another silly little move up his sleeve.

“We should sleep…” he said.

“But…” Mario looked at him with the biggest eyes.

“No buts” he sounded a little cranky.

“I love you”

Oh. Oh alright. That really did it. Well, no stopping now!

They slept in for quite a bit. Sure wonder why.

Luigi decided not to bother them, considering some… things he heard in the night while passing by to go to the bathroom. Better not to bother them.

They took a while to wake up but first Mario did. At least he got time to admire Puzzles in a different way… At least as much as he could from where he was, locked in the hold of him. Honestly, he looked a bit more freaky in the light seeping in but that honestly just made Mario adore him more. With a body that looked so machine yet bore scars that felt like flesh. Maybe part of the reason he didn’t want to show skin. He didn’t know something like that was possible. Adoring Puzzles even more, especially so openly. I mean after what happened… would be a little concerning if he wasn’t… Or at least confusing.

While he could admire Puzzles till the heat death of the universe, Puzzles stirred at some point too.

“Morning, Mar” he said, still kinda sleepy.

“Mar? I like that” 

“Mhmm…” Puzzles cleared his screen a bit, as if to wash the sleepiness away. As he took in his surroundings more, he felt the heat… his fans could barely keep up.

“I-I thought I dreamed that” 

“I’m happy you didn’t”

“Yeah….… me too… sure did feel like a dream too… I… felt like I wasn’t fully… in control? I don’t know”

Mario grinned.

“That’s one way to describe wanting Mario so badly”

Puzzles blushed.

“You’ve no shame!”

Mario laughed at the response.

“You’re not wrong”

Puzzles got up and started dressing up. Mario couldn’t resist looking. Even doing the fuckboy expression, biting his lip.

But when Puzzles looked at him he looked away, as if he was innocent. They continued this until Puzzles looked at Mario rather annoyed and half dressed.

“I know you’re staring at me! You don’t need to”

Mario looked down, a lovestruck grin on his face.

“Mario can’t help it. You’re nice to look at”

“Am… Am I?”

“Yeah” Mario trailed off, slowly caressing Puzzles’s calf that was closer to him

He almost gave in again. 

“No! We have to prepare! We have a whole trip to go on!”

“Buuut Mario loves youuu!!”

“Not gonna work this time. Love you too though”

Puzzles seemed to be able to finally get dressed while Mario was melting on the floor. Melting with love. That’s all that was in his head. Nothing else right now. If only that could last forever.

Mario got up, grabbing stuff to dress up as well.

Puzzles was staring at his back.

“Ayo? And you shame Mario for staring?”

Puzzles brushed it off, reaching to a spot on Mario’s back. It looked burnt but in technicolour. It stung, pain coursing through Mario’s body.

“Does this hurt?”

Mario cried out as he fell over but it was too comical to take it seriously.

“Oh I’m sorry, dear! I didn’t know I ended up hurting you!”

“It’s fine!! Mario’s fine!” he got up “Mario will just..- continue on without a shirt for now”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry though. I didn’t mean to hurt you at all” he cupped Mario’s face in his hands. Mario leaned into it.

“You’re really affectionate with Mario now” he grinned so hard about it, even Puzzles couldn’t interpret this in a negative way. If he did, he’d have to be an idiot for that. And one bigger than Mario at that.

“Is that a problem? I’ll stop” he grinned, teasing Mario as he took his hands back.

Mario huffed in response.

“Mario loves affection… Mario loves you” the shyness compared to his previous behaviour- the difference was staggering! Puzzles found him adorable either way. Oh, wasn’t he such a weird combination of lovestarved and a hopeless romantic for this silly italian? Maybe it’s not exactly like in TV but he would lie if he said he wasn’t happy. He hoped nothing would come between them. He really did hope.

Maybe a tiny bit of worry in the back of his mind. Just the sliver of a chance that something could go terribly wrong. 

“Well, time to pack” Puzzles got up after thinking for a while. Mario looked at him like he was expecting something.

“What?” he asked.

“You forgot to say it back…”

Puzzles sighed and raised Mario up in the air by his armpits.

“I love you too, silly man”

The new name Mario got for himself visibly flustered him. Though that quickly turned into joy.

“Mario IS silly!! The silliest!!”

“And do you know what silliest men do?”

“Love their TV men?”

Puzzles chuckled.

“Maybe. But packing for vacation first and foremost”

Mario sighed.

“Okayy” 

Puzzles put him down.

Puzzles started to pack for himself, taking his sweet time making sure his stuff is as compact and perfectly packed as possible. So good in fact that Tetris players would be jealous of his skills. He laughed at his little joke in his head. He was SO smart. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Maybe what they did yesterday- really eased him up. Which was a good thing. He was kind of happy to have Mario, whatever that meant for the both of them.

As he finished, he noticed Mario struggling with it. He seemed to panic. 

“Dear, are you not good at packing?” Puzzles sat beside him, looking to see he indeed had quite the mess in his suitcase.

“Luigi usually does it for Mario” Mario said, feeling a little ashamed.

“Hey, I’ll help you! I’ve already done mine”

And so Puzzles basically packed for Mario as well. Just as neatly as for himself. Mario watched each hand movement and gesture Puzzles did, like a cat trying to calculate when to pounce.

Mario grew impatient and reached out quickly, grabbing Puzzles’s hand.

Puzzles wasn’t sure how to react for a second. This wasn’t anything strange from Mario to him but he did catch him off guard. 

“Mar, dear… we can hold hands later”

Mario looked at him like a sad wet puppy. Puzzles sighed and grabbed him, placing in his lap. Mario gratefully took it as his rightful place, while Puzzles continued packing with some trouble while trying to inquire what else Mario needed. Who knew a man in his lap could be so distracting. He wasn’t sure if he was fully comfortable but it was also way too nice. He liked the closeness and all. But the weight felt strange and alien to him still. He didn’t know before how he exactly imagined cuddling but the weight was definitely something to him. Just a constant reminder of a presence to him. He was used to feeling lonely. Just because he was brainwashed it didn’t mean he forgot about that. So this presence… In general, as it had been in these past few days, the moment Mario took that piece out of him as well. He swore he felt this all was meant to happen when all that went down. He may have gone a bit crazy but… can you REALLY blame him?

They got done, they went out, seeing Luigi had packed everything else they needed for the somewhat short trip. He stared at the other 2, knowing, especially at Mario, considering he didn’t have a shirt on.

“Mario, do you plan to dress up?”

“Mario’s back really hurts, he can’t” he whined.

“It can’t be that bad- OH MY GOD” Luigi freaked out when he saw it “how did this happen??”

“I… I can’t recall right now…. could’ve been anything” Puzzles said, with little confidence. He didn’t lie but he wasn’t actually trying to be sincere either.

“I’ll see what I can do for your back” Luigi took Mario to the bathroom. Puzzles watched helplessly. He didn’t exactly want to get involved, as much as this was his fault.

He felt bad about it, awful even. He let one person get close to him and it felt like he already ruined it. Maybe now Mario is really only with him out of pity. Who would want to be around someone who hurt them? Especially at such a vulnerable time. He didn’t want the thought to fester. He really didn’t want to. But it did, like a virus, he could feel it in all that was left of his nervous system.

He wondered if he even deserved Mario in the first place. Or if he maybe only brought Mario suffering. And he still felt out of place. How could he fit into a tight knit group of friends anyways? 

And just as he got so deep, the brothers made it back, Mario looking grumpy with a shirt on while Luigi felt a little tired.

“Alright, let’s get going to SMG4’s, we’ll be late at this rate” Luigi said.

Puzzles carried the heaviest suitcases because he was actually the strongest of the 3 but also he just really wanted to occupy himself. And so he was quiet. And he didn’t say a thing about it but Mario noticed. And he didn’t like the silence coming from Puzzles. He wasn’t a therapist or anything but it didn’t exactly feel pleasant or nice. But he brushed it off for now. He just hoped he could make Puzzles feel better in some way or another. Probably in a way that doesn’t end up with him getting more toxic goop on himself that made his skin burn. He didn’t realise it yesterday but Puzzles felt… acidic? Weird stuff.

After a walk that felt longer than it should, they got to the crew. Everyone seemed ready and  were waiting for them. Nobody really felt negative outwardly about this except for 4. Though, he seemed to hold back, with 3 close to him. Puzzles felt this wasn’t going to be the easiest time. 

They got into a bus they rented for this. At least Puzzles was told it was rented but who knows with these guys. Not that he was really that against a bit of crime but he would rather be aware if he was made an accomplice in something like that.

What made him think that was the fact that there was a driver inside but they didn’t look very happy about having to do this. In fact, they looked rather scared. Puzzles decided to push the thought aside as he ascended on the bus the best he could with his tall build.

He sat beside Mario, Luigi went to talk with the others. Puzzles sat by the window. Due to the length of his legs, he actually took up 2 seats and Mario was kind of sitting on his leg. Not that he needed to, there would’ve been space for him elsewhere. But it seemed Mario was visibly very stubborn about sitting with Puzzles. 4 was increasingly bothered by this. 3 grew tired of this at this point, talking with Meggy and Tari instead. 

It was quite the long trip, it was a few hours. It was long with the emotions it had to drag with itself. It felt like it was anchoring time down, intentionally making it harder for time to go on.

But they got there, relatively in good spirit. 4 was really bringing it down. In his obsession to protect Mario he didn’t even notice it was affecting the others as well. In fact, most of the trip, 3 was quietly talking about how annoying he was right now to Meggy and Tari. Listing the ways he had to pander to at least somewhat calm him down which soon stopped working. Though, he tried to be cool about it because he was worried too. He didn’t hate 4 for this, he knew it must be harder for him. But this was beginning to become a lot for him. As much as he loved him, with his whole heart, his mental state kind of reminded him of the perfect incident. It really scared him. Especially because what if something similar happened to him like then. With someone evil enough to take advantage of the situation. And make their life hell.

Regardless, they were there now, packing out to a rather large apartment type of building by the beach. It had enough rooms to house everyone. Luigi kindly asked to be in a different room from Mario and Puzzles, which left the crew questioning for a second. Regardless, he somehow ended up with Saiko and Melony.

They took out the guest bed for him. He put his stuff down neatly.

“So, how come you didn’t want to stay with Mario this time?” Saiko asked, suspicious of this. Melony was sitting on the bed while sorting out her suitcase to take her laptop out she brought for the trip. She was listening though.

“Ah well…” Luigi sighed, a bit annoyed.

“It can’t be that bad” 

“I’m pretty sure they had sex yesterday night”

That shocked both girls, even Melony looked up from the stuff she pulled up to sift through. She recently got into hacktivism to pass the time so it was related to that. Some kind of an article from someone she looked up to.

“Are- Are you sure??”

“Yeah. I kind of- heard them. I OBVIOUSLY didn’t want to” he sighed again. It wasn’t the fact that he found it weird or bad but it was still kind of mind boggling to think about. Especially because just before Mario was crying to him about crushing on Puzzles and now this? Things moved fast with these 2.

“Huh…” Saiko thought for a bit “I see it honestly”

“Mario did have that kind of glow to him” Melony commented which made both look at her weird.

“Nah, he actually burned his back with- whatever comes out of Puzzles’s screen. I don’t know how they did that and why but I don’t need to know”

“BURNED??” both girls yelled in unison. 

“Yeah. I actually had to treat it for him today so he could wear a shirt at least while we get here. It looked pretty rough”

“Mario and the things he gets into I swear” Saiko didn’t know whether to laugh or feel annoyed. Maybe a bit of both if she had to be honest.

“I just hope SMG4 doesn’t freak out too much if hears about this” Luigi thought out loud, concerned. Even scared for his brother.

“Why would he? It’s kind of none of his business” Melony said.

“He really seems to hate Puzzles. I don’t really get it but…”

“I’ve noticed” Saiko was annoyed too “Look, I get it, he was bad but there was a reason for that. Besides, he IS dating SMG3, he’s so unreasonable”

“I have a feeling he just wants to protect Mario but… I’m thinking he might have been doing the opposite…”

The 2 looked at him, at the brink of the worry rising in them. 

“Go on” Saiko said finally.

“I uh… woke up to a pool of blood in the kitchen. I don’t know how it got there… it… could be Mario’s…And there was no sign of struggle. Nothing knocked over or anything, just a single misplaced knife and a pool of blood… it led me to believe that he… he…”

They were looking at him shocked. Luigi finally broke down. The 2 girls scrambled to comfort him, Melony as much as she could with her laptop in her lap. They were just hoping the worst wouldn’t happen. Hopefully.

After a bit of time passed, they heard knocking at their door.

Turns out it was 4, he was gathering everyone to come down. 

The 3 tagged along, following him along with the others.

A big part of the crew was there, with the Mario brothers, the meme guardians, all 4, Melony, Saiko and Puzzles of course. Meggy and Tari decided to stay in their rooms for a bit. The bus driver seemed to vanish for some reason. As they went out they noticed Boopkins was already in there with Bob who had a bright pink donut pattern floaty. He also had those gaudy kind of sunglasses that were gold so it kind of balanced out.

Saiko slowly entered the water, helping Melony out while Mario quickly charged in the water, splashing people on the way. 4 ran after him, yelling about manners. There was something unsettling about his tone of voice but he didn’t say anything wrong. Yet it remained eerie regardless. Puzzles also silently wondered when 4 would mention Mario’s back. He was surprised he didn’t, maybe it was the reason his tone of voice felt so unsettling. Like he was expecting him to lash out again. BUT he knew 4 saw it, he saw that he saw it. And it was terrifying.

1 and 2 set up chairs and parasols so they could enjoy the beach without too much sun. They were also seemingly discussing important meme guardian business as they usually would. 

Puzzles decided to stay back, quietly, sitting just barely in the water. He didn’t want to interfere with 4 and Mario. His reaction to Mario’s back was already scary enough for him. Not even a word, just looking at him so deeply judgmentally. The thoughts reemerged, the idea that he really didn’t deserve any respect. That he deserved a life meant for loneliness and nothing else. Just like how he was before. It would probably be easier. If only Mario let him die instead, he wouldn’t need to be such a black sheep within such great people. He could have moved on from a painful life. He could’ve ended it there. it could’ve been so good.

“Oi, you don’t want to come in deeper?” 3 asked Puzzles, which shook him out of the awful thoughts.

“No… Don’t want to disturb Mar and SMG4 having fun. I think they deserve it”

3 sighed.

“You’re selfless for being lonely for so long. I would be so much more jealous”

“Jealous?”

“You obviously love him, no? I know the signs. Way too well”

Puzzles heated up at how easy he was to read.

“Oh dear… I didn’t know it was that obvious”

“So then? Don’t you just… want him by your side?”

“I… I don’t know if I deserve him” he got rather quiet.

“Blue is a dumbass, don’t let him tear you down”

“But is he really? I.. even hurt Mario”

“Hurt him?”

“Uh… Not important how”

3 stared at Puzzles. Puzzles stared back.

“Oh-.. kay but… really. I don’t get you”

“I made life harder for him. He had… an episode of sorts yesterday. He doesn’t take SMG4’s behavior well and it feels like it’s my fault… I mean if I was just… dead… he wouldn’t”

“Y’know, 4 and I cause each other problems all the time.”

“I think this is different”

“I used to try to terrorise him. We were some… awful people to each other. Worse than what you are for Mario. And we still got here. You know how?”

“No…”

“Love prevails… as much as I hated to admit it before”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. And because of you and that shitty piece of that damned box, I learned it very intimately”

“Sorry about that..”

“Thank you”

“You what now?”

“It might sound messed up but I needed that I think… We both needed it. I never realised before how stubborn 4 was actually about me. I never would’ve figured out if it didn’t get so bad. We might still be here, not dating but still painfully pining if it wasn’t for you”

“I assume you’re joking”

“No. We were a hopeless case” 3 laughed.

Puzzles reacted with chuckling as well.

“Well, I just hope I can somehow… convince 4 that I’m good enough for Mario”

“Way better way to think. I’m going in now, good luck”

3 left in, jumping on 4 and pushing him in the water with a swift and calculated move. Puzzles chuckled at the sight, especially as then they begin to playfully fight. 4 was way less freaky with a smile on his face, having fun. He almost wished that could be a sight that would look at him that way. Just a sliver of acceptance for him. 

He looked up at the sky, thinking stuff through. So many things he wanted to do. And number 1 on his list was to make 4 like him, whatever it would take. He felt like he was trying to achieve the approval of a protective father. While no, it was just his dear’s bestie.

He wondered how he could even do that. It definitely wouldn’t be him trying to show off with his skills. 4 would think he was shallow and maybe even think he was planning something worse secretly. If he poured his heart out, 4 probably wouldn’t listen either. Maybe Mario could put in a good word for him? Or the others, as much as they can. Convincing 4 that he wasn’t evil anymore was way more trouble than what his ideas could change. He sighed.

He suddenly jerked up at the sensation of someone poking his shoulder several times. It was Mario.

“What’s up, Mario?”

“You were sitting here, alone”

“I didn’t want to disturb your time with SMG4”

“Mario has space for everyone”

“SMG4 is questionable in that regard”

Mario could only sigh in response as he leaned onto Puzzles’s shoulder.

They spent time silently, it was maybe a bit too silent for Mario. It looked like he was out of energy.

“Say…” Puzzles started awkwardly after a while.

“Hm?”

“How’s… your back”

“It was totally worth it”

“That’s- That’s NOT what I asked”

“But that’s what Mario cares about”

“YOU… You’re so shameless” Puzzles couldn’t help but smile.

“Maybe. But you love Mario either way”

“I sure do”

They stayed in comfortable silence. 

Meggy and Tari finally arrived as well. Meggy had her hands behind her back, nothing suspicious. The grin on her face was definitely not suspicious as well.

She looked around, looking for the right victim to strike. She spotted the one least suspecting it: Bob, looking half asleep on his silly floaty. She aimed with precision champions would get jealous about. She then shot, water sprung out of her gun, hitting Bob just right, knocking off his glasses.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR??” he shouted, looking around for  the culprit.

Meggy and Tari were loudly laughing about this so it didn’t take a lot  for Bob to see them. 

“What, Bob? can’t handle a bit of water, eh?”

Bob didn’t reply verbally, instead he pulled out his mega deluxe golden water guns that matched his sunglasses he was so painfully separated from.

And from here, a war began as others brought out their guns too.

Puzzles panicked as he quickly got up and ran away, while Mario sadly got caught in the fight, he had no choice but to join in.

He found a place to hide, he was out of view by this large rock.

He sat down and tried his best to calm down. His circuits could’ve gotten damaged there badly. He didn’t want to think of the nightmare that would be fixing that kind of damage. He had to once and he still wasn’t sure if he fully recovered from it.

He just sat there, in the sand, still feeling the water dripping down on his lower limbs. The sand sticking to him felt uncomfortable but he could manage. 

He sighed, laying against the rock. His mind felt a little empty. He didn’t exactly expect to be left alone like this. Maybe it was just his brain playing tricks on him but he felt uneasy for some reason.

That reason turned out to come realy quick by. SMG4. Just the 2 of them. 

“AH!!” Puzzles got surprised by 4’s presence as he stared him down as he was good for nothing.

“I’ve got a few words for you” he said, it seemed he wouldn’t waste his time with useless small talk.

“Yeah?” Puzzles was scared.

“The bruise on his back was you, wasn’t it? What did you do to him?”

“I uh…” Puzzles got quickly nervous “You don’t need to know that”

One of 4’s eyes twitched. He was NOT happy.

“If I find out you’re controlling him this way, you’re dead”

“I’m not! I promise. I care about him too, okay? He hadn’t been doing well”

“Like I’d believe you. If you really aren’t controlling him you would tell how he got the bruise”

“I said you don’t want to know”

“It was clearly you”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to know how”

“What could be worse than fucking mind control goop??”

“...Acidic…” Puzzles turned away, honestly thinking about it just made him heat up all over again.

“Acidic??” 4 was unsure what to think. He was trying to be mad but he was more lost on where this was going.

“And it… got on his back on accident… I didn’t mean to, we… got carried away” Puzzles tried to leave out the most important part.

“C…Carried away? With… WIth what?” 4 was left confused as he was trying to figure it out. But Puzzles wasn’t replying anymore, instead strongly trying to avoid eye contact with 4.

“Did…” it clicked for him “Holy fuck, Mr Puzzles, did you fuck my best friend??”

Puzzles grew visibly more nervous.

4 was left more confused if anything.

“I-  I don’t know what you’re planning with… all this you’re doing but you’ll NEVER convince me”

“I get that…”

“Blah blah I can’t hear your pitiful acting” 4 left, not listening to Puzzles’s words which actually were as sincere as they get.

“It’s okay…” Puzzles got up “I just wish you didn’t ruin stuff this way for other people” he said that last part under his breath, which 4 luckily didn’t end up hearing.

“You know, I really don’t get your deal” 4 said.

“I have no deal. I just wanna live again”

“That’s what they all say”

“Didn’t SMG3 have a similar thing”

“Unlike you, he wasn’t a parasite on other people”

“I… was invited”

“Maybe if you had a spine you would have declined”

Ouch.

“Maybe… It would be easier for you, would’t it? For the both of you. If I were just… out of the picture”

4 didn’t say anything. When it was said outloud like this it felt… different.

Puzzles continued.

“I want you to get one single thing through your head if it won’t be anything else” Puzzles said, glaring at 4 “You can believe I’m still a villain all you want, you can believe I want to hurt people all you want. But if you do this to the detriment of Mario’s mental health and constantly try to infantilize him with trying to ‘’’’’’’care’’’’’’’’’’’ for him, thinking you know so much better than everyone else, just know you’re annoying everyone else in the process. And hurting Mario more than you’ll ever realise.”

And with that, he left 4 dumbfounded. He wasn’t even sure how to react. This GUY trying to lecture him?? What the fuck did he know about life anyways??

He stomped off, far away from everyone as he went back inside. He didn’t want to see anyone then. He needed to see some funny memes. If they could even help him at this point.

Mario noticed this. He felt awful again. Even Puzzles joining back didn’t quite help.

Especially because 4 seemed to have left for good. The silence he left felt louder than anything.

“Dear, are you okay?” Puzzles finally asked him.

Mario couldn’t verbally respond without crying so he just shook his head.

“If… you’re worried about SMG4… I kind of talked to him.”

“Wh… What did you say to him?” Mario asked, though he did tear up in the process.

“Just… something he really needed to hear. A piece of my mind”

“You shouldn’t hurt him… he doesn’t deserve that”

“He WAS hurting you, no?” Puzzles grew a bit frustrated and spoke a bit louder, gaining their friends’ audience.

“Is this about 4?” 3 asked, stepping into it.

“I just.. I told him that he’s hurting Mario with his bullshit.”

“It’s- not-” 

“Yeah, it’s so easy to see! Mario looks miserable ever since 4 started being overprotective” Meggy chimed in.

Mario felt uneasy.

“Guys-”

“Yeah, you guys are right, even I’m upset about it” Luigi joined in after listening for a bit “I’m WELL aware”

“Please just-”

“I’m so sad he’s been causing so much trouble! If only we could all just get along” 

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP” Mario broke, scaring everyone.

“Oh, dear…? Are you…”

“You guys are being so mean about Mario’s BEST friend. Sure, he is an asshole but he’s MARIO’S asshole” he got up and left the group, aiming to search for 4, leaving everyone there stunned. Puzzles felt bad.

“I… really thought I was doing the right thing” Puzzles felt guilt wash him over.

“You tried” 3  pat him on his back.

“I just feel like I can’t make things right. Like things won’t ever be perfect”

“Well, with people like us around, it won’t be” 3 tried to be reassuring “but we can try to make it work, you know, love prevails”

“Aww, 3, didn’t know you were giving away advice like this now” Meggy giggled.

3 tried to shush her.

Puzzles smiled at the interaction.

“Is it bad if I need time to  figure out how I can make it work?”

“We’ll be here for you either way” Tari said, stepping beside him.

“Exactly! Cuz what else are friends for?” Luigi joined in.

“Aww you guys” Puzzles could melt “I’ll… really try my best!”

And he got wrapped in a brief group hug. Damn, did it feel nice to have friends!

Meanwhile, Mario was banging on SMG4’s room to no avail, screaming, crying for him to open up. 

“Please….. SMG4…….. This can’t go on… I know Puzzles was a bit mean to you but…. just please talk to me”

“Whatever you want to say you can say without opening the door” 4 said, quietly. It was hard to read his tone.

“I know you’re scared of Mario being tricked into an awful thing but he promises he’s not! If Mr Puzzles wasn’t actually nice he wouldn’t like him as much as he does! Mario knows you want to protect him but still- You shouldn’t feel so much burden over that! Mario doesn’t need you to worry” he was practically crying. He just wanted things to be okay so badly.

He sniffled there for a while.

“Hope you at least tried to understand me” he said, as if hope left him.

And then the world turned awfully quiet for 4. He thought for a while it was nothing. But that nothing really felt like something. As in that something bad could happen, and it could happen right under his nose without him doing anything. 

The anxiety rising in him after a few minutes got the best of him. He finally unlocked the door, even the unlocking felt painfully heavy and slow. He had not time for this shit.

“Mario?” he looked around, seeing no sight of the italian. He grew more worried as he called out again, receiving no response.

He went around in the rooms. He went to check all of them, he was in none of them. Although, something caught his eye about 1 and 2’s room. Something very important. But he wouldn’t go that far… right? Right? 

Okay, now he was REALLY worried as he barged out the door with force that could’ve broken it if it didn’t open so easily as he tried to find any clues where Mario could have gone. This was BAD.

Puzzles could feel it too. He excused himself as he went looking for Mario himself.

As he did, he found 4 first instead.

Puzzles glared at 4. 4 glared at Puzzles.

Time seemed to stop.

After glaring enough both sighed. Which made them look at each other with judgement all over again.

“We should stop this” Puzzles said, begrudgingly. He was holding it back but damn 4 didn’t do much to show he’s good to be around.

“You’re right” 4 sighed, defeated.

“Let’s just… try and find Mario”

“Yeah”

The 2 went on silently, which was the most peaceful they had been around each other.

“You know…” 4 started.

“This isn’t the time”

“I’m just worried over what he might be doing”

“He’s hurt, I know that”

“Duh, idiot”

Puzzles rolled his eyes.

“What do YOU know anyways?”

“He took the godbox piece”

“He did WHAT????”

“I… I noticed it wasn’t in SMG1 and 2’s room anywhere when I looked around to try and find him.”

“Oh my god…”

“Yeah I… god I feel so bad…”

“That’s the first step”

“YOU’ve got nerve”

“SMG4… I get it, you’re jealous, he told me he’d go over to sleep and even cuddle you. I’m… not trying to steal him away”

4 blushed at the mention of it.

“Me? Jealous? No… No I…”

“He IS your best friend so of course you care a lot. I… don’t blame you but you did go too far”

“... I just… can’t help being anxious I guess? It feels like anything can be out to get us at this point…”

“Look… SMG4. I’ll promise you something. I’ll let SMG1 and 2 do all the things and tests to confirm I have no ill will anymore, no godbox manipulation. Don’t you know how it feels? You… become… something else…”

“It’s… scary…”

“I’m sorry if I scared you too”

“Yeah…though, how do you know the fact that the godbox manipulated us before?”

“Sometimes… it’d whisper things. The piece had a faint voice”

“A… A voice??”

“Of course… It would tell me what to do and manipulate my senses to think I’m doing the right thing. It would also tell me some information I could use to my advantage. And sometimes it would utter words I couldn’t connect anywhere. Sometimes I wonder if… the piece itself went insane…”

“That’s… scary I’m… I’m sorry. For… everything these past few days I guess”

“I’ll only accept if you accept me too”

4 stared at Puzzles.

“Maybe after we save Mario from doing something stupid”

They walked for a while. The quiet wasn’t so uncomfortably tense anymore. Puzzles found 4 a lot more likable when he wasn’t swearing at him and staring daggers into him. As they walked they spotted Mario at a cliff, his back turned to them. His arms in front of him, holding the piece. He seemed lost in it.

“Mario!!” Puzzles shouted for him as he and 4 got closer and sped up.

Mario turned a bit too fast, slipping off the edge.

Puzzles and 4 jumped after him with not much thinking. Puzzles caught both of them, utilising his long arms. 4 was too busy fearing death to actually object against it. None of them wanted to die, so badly too. Like a sense of determination crossing across them like electricity, light engulfed all 3 of them, slowly slowing their fall and making them land safely. Though, they barely realised that with how bright and strong the light was. Puzzles noted it was stronger than when he kept Mario back last time. But it felt similar.

As they finally came back to their senses from such an adrenaline inducing fall, 4 picked Mario up, cheering he was saved. But Puzzles did too. And he was taller so with that 4 came too. 4 didn’t mind it much but it did feel weird being lifted up like this. While Mario was SO confused.

“I’m so glad we managed to save you” Puzzles expressed his happiness with words.

“Mario thought he’d die for good”

“Did you want to?” 4 asked.

Mario lowered his head, not answering. But then for a different reason as he looked in his hands, seeing what the piece had become. It went form the pit of darkness it had, turning blindingly bright but still somehow safe to look at. It also seemed to constantly shift in shape. The other 2 looked at it too, just as confused.

“Did we… do this?” Puzzles asked.

“Guess so” 4 replied.

Mario looked at one of them then the other.

“You 2 are not trying to kill each other anymore?”

“We… talked” 4 said “I’m sorry for how I acted, Mario… I really am”

“Mario knows”

“I’m also sorry. Lashing out wasn’t exactly the… best choice I made today”

“You both need therapy”

The 2 laughed.

“We’ll make it work. Somehow” Puzzles reassured Mario, finally putting both of them down.

“And we need to show 1 and 2 what happened to the piece. I don’t know whether they’ll be super excited about it or if they’ll be bummed out they can’t examine it further”

“Probably a bit of both”

“Mario’s…” Mario spoke up, changing the subject “MARIO’S SO HAPPY HIS FAVOURITE PEOPLE ARE GETTING ALONG” he was jumping with joy. It only just fully settled in then.

That was when the others got there.

“You guys are okay??” Meggy was running in the front.

“We were so worried!” Boopkins ran ahead, although he was trying to catch his breath.

“Sure are but” 4 pointed at the piece that changed in Mario’s hands. 

Everyone was shocked, 1 and 2 were in fact so shocked they both fell over. There was a lot to tell and the crew was sure shocked, especially at the fact that 4 and Puzzles talked it out. The piece went back to its rightful place and then they could finally have the few days they’d spend there be chiller. There were still problems but it wasn’t anything the crew couldn’t bear. One could say that they weren’t perfect but they still found integrity.

For now. You know the saying, nothing lasts forever! However for now, things are okay, which was what really mattered.

[astradyke]

help I am going to see the tour in less than a month and I don’t know enough lore. I’ve been watching as much as possible but who should I follow here any dnp blog recs?

HI ANON! sorry i am replying to you so late it's been a busy week ^_^

ugh i could gush about all my mutuals but i will TRY to keep this contained. also if i didnt mention you but you're awesome please like self promo off this post .

@thisdayindnphistory <- archive feature will be super helpful! Literally THE place to catch up on lore/important dates, even scrolling through can help you paint a better picture of certain years!! love this blog a lot it's a major help in web weaves :P

@purpurussy has successfully found like any post that i need whenever i need it b/c they're a miracle worker but also does like really great analysis posts & has awesome tags on things too

@phantasticphizza and @blossoms-phan CEO of cool mutuals who make me extremely happy when i see them on the dash and also I think both of them are awesome to follow in general so i'm just going to flail at you encouraging u to follow :3

@bitchslapblastoids ALWAYS allowed to cook in the kitchen and has a good handle on lore stuff too i feel like!!! Idk!! Follow!!!!!! My really cool mutual who has really good posts on stuff

@gamora-borealis awesome awesome awesome Follow this account smiles

@dnpbeats knows SO much about dan and phil lore and is like ... Like she has several claims to fame in her bio i feel like that's enough evidence this is THE blog to follow ever

@freckliedan knows SO much all the time makes awesome posts about many such things and just knows a lot!!! Lot of cool stuff on this blog has like helped me find info n stuff so many times. jam is lovely :]

Fuck I got so many more @deadandphilgames @phuckingphan @laprasboat @ingydar-phan @oldphanny @absolutefilthimsosorry @thighguys <- ALL OF THESE FOLKS ARE REALLY COOL AND MAKE REALLY AWESOME POSTS!!! I WOULD YAP ABOUT THEM SEPARATELY BUT THIS IS REALLY LONG im sorry ily!! Their cool posts speak for themselves though thumbs up

Also tentative because I'm bad at tracking mutual main blogs so if we are not properly mutuals i am SO SORRY and will be embarrassed forever but @yonpote @lizardsmp3 extremely EXTREMELY extremely cool blogs. Like very cool. the coolest. Please follow these two blogs i am really major fans<3 and i would argue these r required follows to maximize the phannie experience

I hope this is helpful anon!!!!!! If you ever feel like you need to catch up on a specific lore thing you can always fling that out into tags and people will graciously catch you with their massive knowledge (not me because i kind of don't know anything and rely upon aforementioned mutuals to nicely tell me information and i go okay <3 yay <3) but u are always welcome in the inbox!!!!!! <3

I HOPE U HAVE SO MUCH FUN AT TIT!!!!!!!!!

[alastwhorez]

Whispers in the Confessional- Chapter one

⸸ Pairing: Priest!Alastor x Reader ⸸ Summary: In your isolated little town, Father Alastor arrives as the new priest, captivating the townsfolk with his charm. Strange occurrences start to plague the town, and Father Alastor is keeping secrets, and (Y/n) develops a forbidden attraction to the new priest. Will Alastor be able to keep his secrets hidden? ⸸ Warnings: 18+, MDNI, religion, religious figures, corruption, obsession, p in v, pillow humping, bible verses, priest kink and dark themes. I think that's everything ⸸ An: I have Father Alastor stuck in my head, so I decided to turn this one shot into a series. Hope you enjoy it! Not proofread, possible spelling errors.

The town of Blackwood was a place where time seemed to stand still. Nestled deep within a forest, its cobblestone streets and old stone buildings whispered tales of a bygone era. The townsfolk lived simple lives, their days marked by routine and tradition. But all of that changed with the arrival of Father Alastor.

It was a crisp autumn morning when he first appeared, stepping out of a sleek black car that seemed out of place in the quaint town. His tall, slender figure was draped in the traditional black cassock of a priest, and his sharp features were framed by neatly styled dark hair. But it was his eyes that drew the most attention—piercing red, like embers glowing in the night, and a perpetual, charming smile that seemed to hide a thousand secrets.

The townsfolk gathered around the church, curious about the new priest who had come to replace the aging Father O’Malley. Whispers of excitement and speculation filled the air as they watched him approach the church doors. You stood among them, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and unease.

“Good morning, everyone,” Father Alastor greeted, his voice rich and melodious, carrying a hint of an old-world accent with a hint of a southern accent. “I am Father Alastor, and I am honored to serve as your new priest.”

His words were met with murmurs of approval and nods of welcome. There was something undeniably captivating about him, something that made it impossible to look away. As he spoke, you felt a strange pull, an inexplicable attraction that both intrigued and unsettled you.

Over the next few days, Father Alastor settled into his new role, quickly winning over the hearts of the townsfolk with his eloquent sermons and genuine acts of kindness. The church, once a place of quiet reverence, now buzzed with renewed energy and attendance. You found yourself drawn to his services, captivated by his words and the way he seemed to speak directly to your soul.

As the days continued, more and more people became frequent church goers. You included. Father Alastor’s sermons always seemed to be about whatever was troubling you at the time, as if he was reading your mind.

Father Alastor quickly started a regular schedule for his sermons consisting of Thursday through Sunday, with Sunday always being the busiest.

You started hearing whispers about Father Alastor. The woman all fawning over him, and speaking sinful thoughts. You noticed most of the people attending his sermon were women. They would gush and coo over him, fighting for any chance to be near him, or help him.

Something you noticed about Father Alastor was he always turned down the women, you assumed it was because of the vow he took as a priest not to take on a wife or have sexual relations. That he wholly belongs to the church and God, mind, body, and soul.

Even though you have been attending church you have yet to meet the new priest personally. He is always swarmed by women, you never tried to meet him. That was until today.

“Excuse me, my child, but I do believe we have not had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Father Alastor, and you are?”

You had to look up to speak to him, he was fairly taller than you. You reach only to his chest. “Hello Father, I'm (y/n). It's a pleasure to meet you”

He bowed his head and took your hand giving it a small kiss “but the pleasure is all mine my dear” Yours and his eyes both widened at his actions. He quickly stood, brushing off his outfit. “Apologies, that was quite Unprofessional of me”

Your hand tingles where his lips touched and a light flush to your cheeks. “ It's alright, Father” did he greet all the women this way? No wonder they are all so smitten with him.

“It was nice to meet you, (y/n), but if you'll excuse me, I must be getting up there” you took your seat as the sermon began.

Over the next few days you caught yourself plagued with the thought of Father Alastor. His words Stuck in your head. But what lingered the most was the kiss. Though innocent, you couldn't help but think about his lips on you as you lay in bed at night.

You started to wonder what his lips would feel like in other places. You gasp at the thought. How lewd of you to be thinking such things about a holy man. A man who dedicated his life to serving God. You couldn't help it though. He was a gorgeous man, if only he didn't take that vow of chastity. You could smack yourself for such thoughts. He is a purse man and here you are defiling his character.

What you didn't know was That you also plagued Father Alastor’s mind. Maybe not in the same way, but he can't stop thinking about you as he paces back and forth in the church. He came here for a reason, could you help with this reason? He growls as he grips his hair, smile straining. All the women in this town just throw themselves at him, but you, oh you were different. He could sense this from the day he stepped out his car in this quiet little down.

While he could see through everyone else you were a little harder to read. Everyone else was dirty sinners, their souls plagued with the promise of hell, yours was pure. A pure soul. He laughs at the thought. finding such a soul was so rare these days but you basically served yourself to him on a silver platter.

You started attending more and more of his sermons, you basically are there everyday he is holding them, attending several a night. You told him his words spoke to you. Would you believe everything he says?

Maybe, just maybe you actually can be of assistance. He smirks at the thought, red eyes seeming to glow under the moon's light peeking through the church windows.

As the days grew shorter with the sun setting and the shadows lengthened, strange occurrences began to plague the town. Whispers echoed through the night, and shadows seemed to move on their own, casting eerie shapes on the walls. The once peaceful town of Blackwood was now shrouded in an unsettling darkness.

These occurrences drew more and more people to the church, seeking comfort in Father Alastor’s words. Reassurances that this is nothing to worry about as long as your faith is strong.

One evening, after a particularly moving sermon, you lingered in the church, hoping for a moment to speak with Father Alastor. As the last of the congregation filed out, you approached him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Father Alastor,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I just wanted to thank you for your sermon. It was… inspiring.”

He turned to you, his red eyes softening with a warmth that made your breath catch. “Thank you, my child. It means a great deal to hear that my words have touched you.”

There was a pause, a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever. You felt a strange connection, a bond that defied explanation. But beneath the surface, you sensed something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

If you didn't know any better you would say you saw an eerie shadow creeping on the wall behind Father Alastor. If you weren't so taken back by his beauty maybe you would have noticed the flicker of the lights, the howl of the wind, and maybe even the buzz of static in the air. But all of that is pushed to the back of your mind as he looks down at you, a smile on his face.

“Father, are You sure these things happening around town are nothing to worry about?”

He laughs “why of course, my child, this is nothing but a test of faith From God. These things will not harm thee as long as your faith is wrong. is your faith strong my child?”

“Yes, Father! I will not allow these dark entities to corrupt My faith.”

He hums and nods his head. His hands behind his back.

“Run along then, my child, as it Is getting late. I wouldn't want you wandering the streets alone at such an hour. Not with all the evil will plaguing this town.”

“Yes, Father” you turn and start heading to the steps to leave

“(Y/n)”

You turn back to Father Alastor “yes, Father?”

“If you find these evils to be tempting you, or making you uneasy, please do Not hesitate to inform me. I am here to help after all. Day or night”

You smile and nod at him. As you turn you don't notice The evil look in eyes or his smile stretching. You also miss the tilt of his head as something dark slithers across the wall your way, attaching itself to you.

As you left the church that night, the whispers in the shadows seemed to grow louder, and the sense of unease deepened. The sound of an old radio ringing through the night, drawing unease from anyone unfortunate enough to hear. The trees blow in the wind casting malicious shadows all around as the wind howls with ill intent. You pull your jacket closer to you as you walk back home. The feeling of something watching you in the back of your mind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as you turn around and find nothing. Playing it off as your imagination you continue your journey, Father Alastors words replaying in your mind.

Little did you know, something was following you and that the arrival of Father Alastor was just the beginning of a journey that would change your life forever.

Once you arrived home you kicked off your shoes and threw your jacket. You started your nighttime routine then crawled into bed.

Father Alastor is all you dreamed about. He had you bend over a pew, Bible in hand, skirt thrown over your hips, and panties around your ankles. Father Alastor behind you thrusting into you.

“flee from sexual immorality. Every other SIN a person comMITS—oh god!” you moan

“Keep reading, my child?” He says as he speeds up his thrusts

“is-is outside the BODY— fuck” He pinched your clip and started to rub “but the sexually immoral person sins— oh god Father Alastor don't stop”

“Did I say stop reading?” He slaps your ass hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Sins against his own body, or do you not know that your body is a temPLE—” you moan out thrusting Back against Father Alastors hips

“Keep reading, my child, Do you not wish to reach salvation, be delivered from all your sins”

“Yes fuck yes!”

“Then keep reading”

“of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God—oh, oh, ahhh” Father Alastor stops moving as you fuck Youself on his cock “gonna—gonna mhhh” you cum all over his cock, him pulling out if you. Be puts his hand on your shoulder And pushes down.

“Finish what you started, my child” you kneel down in front of him, taking him into your mouth, you bob your head as he fists your hair, before long he is fucking Your throat. “Jesus–ahh” He finishes down your throat telling you to swallow it all. You stick your tongue out to show him.

“Good, My child, we will continue these meetings to free your soul from total Damnation.”

“Thank you, Father"

You shoot up from your bed, panting with an ache between your legs. You grab your pillow and put It between your legs and start grinding to the image of Father Alastor.

You're so lost in your pleasure You don't see the shadowy figure slip into Darkness and back to its owner.

The shadow relays the message of what it saw back to it's owner.

“Well isn't this interesting” static and a deep chest rumbling laugh fill the air.

Next chapter

Table Of Contents

[luxmoogle]

I've just seen the post about being visceral horror fan and need to ask: what are your favourite horror titles? 💜 Do you have any recommendations? 💜

Beware, long post below..

This is honestly quite a hard question, and recommendations hinge on what kind of horror one would prefer, and in what medium..! Books, movies, manga, audio tales even! A lot of my personal horror tastes weigh on the side of psychological horror or ones with supernatural or mystic features, less of slashers and violence, though I do enjoy quite a few of such titles as well.. I'll try not to mention all of the most obvious stuff everyone's already seen.

When it comes to games, I always say that if Kingdom Hearts didn't exist my favorite game of all time would be Bloodborne. The gothic style, vague storytelling and existential horror really speak to me. The Project Zero (Fatal Frame in the US) -series is dear to my heart, specifically the third one. The Forbidden Siren -series was also quite a treat in it's time. Honorary meantion to ObsCure, a great game to play with multiple people at a time, but unfortunately I think it's one of the rarest games ever now, so finding a copy/playing it might be quite the challenge..

In literature, I'd recommend getting into classic horror short stories, especially from the eighteen-hundreds! The setting and time they were written in often give them an automatic edge for a spooky tone.. They're fun stuff to read on a moody afternoon, and don't require the bandwidth that a full book might, if you're not such an avid reader. Some suggestions:

The Vampyre, John William Polidori (1819) The Monkey's Paw, W. W. Jacobs (1902) The Room in the Tower, E. F. Benson (1912) Kerfol, Edith Wharton (1912) Afterward, Edith Wharton (1910) The Empty House, Algernon Blackwood (1906) Sir Edmund Orme, Henry James (1891) The Body-Snatcher, Robert Louis Stevenson (1881) The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1892)

With horror movies, I think anyone with an interest in horror already know all the typical classics and modern favorites, so I'd recommend something a tad more obscure.. The asian horror scene, especially in the late 90's and early 2000s was littered with great techno ghost punk flicks. Many of these are favorites from one of my best friends, who really has a taste for this type of movie, but I'll highlight the one's I'm also very into and would especially recommend.

Kaïro / Pulse (2001), Whispering corridors -series, Dark Water (2002), Saiko! The Large Family (2009), A Tale of Two Sisters (2009), Bunshinsaba, The Wailing, The Complex, One Missed Call (2003), Shutter (2004)

This one's probably a very tired answer but with manga I just have to say the obvious, which is Junji Ito. His body of work just really scratches the itch I have for a nice tight scary story and gives a vague uneasy vibe.. Both his storytelling and art is something I love.

One of the main features of horror is suspense, so I would recommend always going in blind, stop with trailers, synopsis etc. and really sit in a dim room on a calm day or evening and get into it! You can only be horrified if you let yourself be.