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spice-chan · 3 years

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Legally Incapsulated

yandere!Bakugou Katsuki x darling!reader

In a different, dystopian world, yanderes are allowed to run rampant and they make up 15 percent of the population. It gets a little interesting when Bakugou, a protective yandere falls for you, a taken darling.

warnings: dystopian society (ig?), yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, reader has a bit of an early stockholm syndrome kinda thing, blood and near death, captivity.

also hi, i came back from the undead with an update.

.........

Bakugou laid on the ground, bleeding profusely, cold and alone. The red liquid soaked through his clothes, painting him as an ugly manifestation of destruction and death. However, he did not welcome the latter yet, clinging to-hanging tooth and nail to the threads of life.

What cruel irony. To be dumped somewhere so public, yet at a time when no one would bother to come. To have the Hero hanging onto the hope that someone would visit the park at three in the fucking morning.

A brutal fight between him and a particularly vicious villain ended in Katsuki suffering not only the humiliation of defeat but injuries that will do him in soon enough from blood loss. All alone, with no back-up, Katsuki suffered possibly the worst defeat of his life, for it might cost him that very same thing. Fucker attacked him after he finished his night shift too when no reporters or anyone would be around, knocking Katsuki out and dumping him in a public park just for the mockery of it.

His head felt light and doozy, and he was starting to succumb to the feeling sucking him in when he heard a gasp amidst the fog.

With what little stamina he has left, he turned around, sharp red eyes spotting a petite woman heading towards him.

You quickly got to his spot beneath a tree, crouching down and inspecting him, your warm eyes becoming horrified at the blood pool.

“Oh no, what happened here?! No matter. I’m going to call an ambulance. You’re going to be ok.” You reassured, or tried to, for the words coming out of your mouth could only be taken as self-assurance when one notices the dampness of your eyes. He tried to concentrate on what you were doing, but the next time he was aware of what was happening around him was when you clutched his hand tight with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna be ok.”

He sure hopes he will be now.

“What’s your name?”

Despite the haze covering, his red eyes zeroed on you, calmly taking you in despite the battered state he was in. You froze.

You stammered, heart hammering as you finally had another person's attention for once. It should’ve made you really ecstatic, but it just made you feel like you were naked on live TV.

“It’s um-“ you nibbled on your lip as if unused to your name, Katsuki just got lost in the dainty, delicate sound of your voice.

And when you said your name, as if testing foreign words on your tongue for the first time, he couldn’t help but think it suited you.

So pretty.

Honestly, if the sight of you is the only thing he’ll see before dying, he’ll be content. Your hand remained in hold his, your warmth travelling to his frigid hand and warming his very soul.

But the sound of ambulance sirens broke him out of his trance, and you too, it seems. For you broke away from him in fright, he had to hold back from grabbing you and keeping you close. He would, had he not been injured.

“Whe-where are you going?” He asked brokenly, desperate to keep the angel that saved him close. You shook your head, frightened and frantic. Looking at the time, and seemingly getting further and further.

“I’m sorry-I—I’ve got to go. I’m gonna late, I’ll get punished if I’m late.”

His heart sunk with every syllable you uttered, feeling a pain he had never felt before, something not tangible enough to be compared to injuries and not comprehensible enough for a man like Katsuki to express.

You’re a darling.

You’re someone’s darling.

By the time the ambulance rolled in and took him, you were long gone…

But not for long.

……………...

Katsuki Bakugo: Yandere.

Classification: Protective

Darling: Unregistered

In a world where yanderes are allowed to go rampant with their love, an ordinary citizen doesn’t know when they’ll become trapped by a person who claims to ‘love them unconditionally’. Thus making them a darling. And from the moment that label is put on them, the law ceases to help them and they become entirely at their yandere's mercy.

Yanderes are often separated into their schools and housed in their specified yandere classification ranging from obsessive, possessive and protective, and if a person overlaps two during their classification test they get reign into which house to go to. At UA, the houses are split between those three types and are equally split.

Katsuki, who scored rather high in both protective and obsessive traits, chose to go with the protective unit where he met Kirishima, who’s currently blabbering on about nothing in Katsuki’s hospital room.

“You barely made it man, I still can’t believe it. One can never be too careful these days.” He said, for the hundredth time. Katsuki was topless, the nurse having just finished bandaging his wounds. The stark white stood out against his chiseled, muscular front, it had every nurse swooning but he only had one thing on his mind.

You.

Where were you? Who were you? Did you really have a yandere? How can he take you away now?

No, he doesn’t like you. He’s just curious.

He’s survived this long without a darling. He doesn’t need one, contrary to popular societal belief.

When babies are three, they undergo tests and scans to see whether they have OLD, obsessive love disorder, which is something about 15 percent of the population suffers from.

They go to their own schools and such, but their identity as yanderes won’t be revealed to the general public, making it easy for yanderes to take their darlings by surprise when the grand reveal comes.

Katsuki himself attended a yandere oriented hero school, but what the public doesn’t know is that the acceptance rate is so low because only yanderes are accepted. Yanderes rarely, but not never, go for other yanderes so it poses as less of a distraction.

And so, the talented in the 15 percent of Japanese yandere are carefully picked and honed.

And the separation only proves something. That darlings are a distraction. He won’t be like other wanderers, he’ll get a hold of himself.

…………..

Y/N L/N: Darling

Under yandere of classification: Obsessive

Yandere name: Nagisa Mura

Katsuki ground his teeth, red orbs staring viciously at his computer screen. Hypothesizing and being faced with the fact that you do belong to someone else. The distraction, unneeded angel who fell from heaven just to save him.

Poor you, he bets that piece of shit doesn’t treat you as good as he could.

After looking further into you, he found several allegations of sexual assault made towards Mura that got completely dropped after he captured you.

A flash of searing pain made Katsuki jerk back, narrowly missing scorching his screen to smithereens.

He...he hurt you. The fucker hurt his angel, his princess...he hurt you, he hurt you, he hurt you.

He thought of your pretty, kissable lips, making unsure, clumsy movements as you tried to vocalise your name.

No, Katsuki has to have you. He needs to save you. It’s the only way for both of you to be happy at this point.

And this, spurred on a thorough check at your yandere, and Katsuki delved so deep that when he found what he wanted, he couldn’t help but break out into a lopsided, sinister grin.

………………

Nagisa burrowed his face in your neck, breathing in your scent while you sat still and rigid, not wanting to move away and risk his sanity flying away.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked softly, suddenly attentively look at you with his cat-like, loving, sick eyes. Your heart palpitated in fear for a second before you nodded.

“Oh, where did you go? You...didn’t talk to anyone right?” Your heart erratically hammered, thinking that he might’ve somehow found out you did, and even told him your name. You shook your head at the speed of a sewing machine, then thought that might’ve perhaps been too aggressive to be convincing.

“I didn’t. I walked to the park and came back home.”

He sighed in satisfaction at that, moving his dark bangs back to stare at you with his green hues.

“I knew night time was a better idea. There would be no one around at this time that you can’t deal with with pepper spray. Fewer people to talk to, fewer people who see you” he was smiling, not breaking eye contact once, and with each syllable, his soft voice seemed to get more sinister and sinister.

You only nodded, pliant as a lamb in his grip as he twisted you however he wished. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling the scent of you as if smelling a rare fragrant flower.

“We’ve gotten so far since the days in the orphanage when you refused to share your dolls with me when we were five.”

Memories. Something that should fill one with nostalgia, only filled you with an unbearable sense longing to a freer, more easy time. When you only had to worry about Nagisa bothering you during breakfast, lunchtime, movie time, sometimes worship time and wash time.

Desperate for a sense of normalcy, you hugged him back, feeling icy cold in his embrace.

“Nagi, what are we having for dinner?” A twinge of regret pierced you as you lowered your guard for a second. His hold became stiff, and he didn’t bother to swipe back his bangs as he flashed you a blank face.

“You’re thinking about dinner while we hug?”

But you knew how to deal with him better by now, deflecting his anger and turning it into something more malleable.

“Oh no, it’s just that I feel a little dizzy. I don’t think I ate or drank well those past few days.” You paired the lie with a yawn for extra measure, and the ice of his face melted to reveal a familiar worried expression pouted lips and widened greeny eyes.

He carefully put you down, bundling you in a blanket before he rushed to the kitchen to prepare you some food.

The worry he harboured for your well being should’ve filled you with warmth, but instead, you were left twiddling your thumbs and rocking yourself back and forth, an unexplainable feeling of doom filled you.

The feeling of a hand touching you caused you to spring out of your reverie in fright, but the sight of the green hues staring back at you only calmed you a fraction. He put the food in front of you, which he brought back with some vitamins because he can’t have you getting sick.

“Thank you…” you murmured, feeling incredibly stupid and useless.

He insisted he feed you and that you go to bed early.

But as you laid in bed, thoughts of strange red irises and their bewitching beholder swarmed your thoughts along with the fatigue. You hope he’s alright…

You wanted to check on him, but if you asked or even implied to Nagisa that you met someone, let alone a man albeit injured or not, that he will opt to not let you out for a year again, or possibly longer this time.

Even in his injured form, there was something undeniably feral about him, as if ready to pounce any second and gamble his chances at life if the situation called for it. It frightened you.

You shook your head, willing comfort to return to you through the soft duvet and sheets enveloping your body. You better sleep before Nagisa comes to bed and finds you awake…

…….

Finally, Bakugou has the best reason to get that fuck arrested. And you? Poor you, you’re going to have your yandere taken away, and you can’t *just* be let free. You didn’t earn it after all. Well, you would have, had there not being a perfectly suitable yandere for you to be rehomed with.

Heh, to think of it, you might hate him a little for this...but he’ll show you that he can treat you better, in no time, you’ll be wrapped around his finger like he’s shamefully wrapped around yours.

Bakugou’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt when the L-word is mentioned, not noticing when his thoughts spiralled to that degree. His deranged obsession with you had been planted the moment you saved him, but Katsuki didn’t notice when he lost the wheel of his rationality to his heart.

Yeah, sure, he did background checks on you, felt a twinge of pain when he realised you grew up in an orphanage, felt a tornado of anger when he saw the assault charges that went nowhere after that obsessive fuck captured you. Yeah, ok, he felt proud when he saw that you were the valedictorian. But… where did the stone hearted Katsuki go? Where did the one who was afraid of getting close to anyone in case his true nature shows and distracts him from his dream go?

But then, he remembered your glassy eyes, staring at him in worry that no one ever showed towards him before, fumbling with his phone to dial the ambulance while holding his hand. Telling him he’ll be ok.

The moment Bakugo looked in the mirror, he knew he lost.

His cheeks were flaming hot.

Whatever, he better start preparing your room.

…….

It felt like preparing the room of a newborn baby, Katsuki bought enough stuffed animals and plushies to make it resemble a fluffy asylum, along with pastel pink sheets. Your name was also put on the wall, with cursive pink letters that had butterflies surrounding them.

Not to forget a dresser filled with all kinds of things you could ever desire. But his favourite was filling the closet.

Besides adding some of his own shirts, he stuffed it with all kinds of pretty dresser and cute clothes that he can’t wait to see you wear.

Bakugo dusted his hands, taking a sigh and looking at the finished guestroom, previously a spare but now your own room, it looked as if a sparkly fairy vomited all over it. Hopefully you’ll like it…

He wishes you were here to see it…

An unfamiliar sense of isolation invaded his heart, perhaps it was the realisation that he just finished a room to a person who doesn’t even live with him *yet*, or knowing what he’s missing out on with you, but he knew he desperately wanted you here.

He wanted to protect you from the bastard who has you in his clutches

……..

A day later

You sat on the sofa, munching on some popcorn while you sat on Nagisa’s lap, watching anime.

A rough knock sounded out, the sound so aggressive is sounded as if the wood itself was gonna break under the aggressive force. Nagisa tensed up, he wasn’t expecting any guests, in fact, he rarely invites anyone over. He disassociated the both of you from any acquaintances from the orphanage, and you weren’t allowed to mingle with anyone.

He saw your curious look, even without any verbal question, but he opted to simply kiss your forehead and put you on the sofa.

He quickly went to answer the door, but not without grabbing a dagger and hiding it somewhere discreet.

He turned the knob, feeling his chest tighten painfully, as if sensing a near, imminent loss.

Three aggressive, toned cops welcomed his sight as soon as the door was open. They forced their way inside, cuffing him and telling him things, words that were spoken too fast and went over his head as the only thought that went through his head aas you.

He turned around to where he left you, but you were suddenly standing besides one of the officers, not allowed near him. No…

“According to our database, you are a yandere who has a darling. This means that she will be permanently taken away from you and handed to an eligible yandere as part of your punishment.”

He swallowed, his gaze, which always seemed morbid to you, now looked panicked and morose, gaze moving like a boomerang between you and the officers, as if not processing what’s happening.

“Nagisa, what have you done?” He couldn’t answer you, he couldn’t speak a word. You were leaving him, and there’s nothing that he can do.

“Eligible yandere? But as far as I know, there’s no one after her besides me.” The thought comforted him. Maybe he’ll recapture you after he serves whatever sentence he has, even though he’ll have to do it on the down low now. It’s illegal for a yandere who had their darling taken away to go after them again.

“Well you thought wrong. Scum”

Bakugou felt like the star of the show, coming in to rescue his damsel and finish his quest, with you as the prize.

Your mouth was agape, the little hope that simmered in you that you might possibly be free is now crushed, confusion coming full force in place of it. His face was all too familiar, it was the face of the man you found on death's door only a few days ago.

Nagisa’s face blanked, turning to you with bloody accusations in his eyes, which made your vision narrow to only focus on him, afraid to make eye contact yet afraid not to. You almost felt the bile rise up your stomach as goosebumps covered your entire body at his familiar, haunting stare.

“(Y/n)...how does he know you?”

“I-“ you swallowed, unable to answer. Who is he?

The dots were starting to connect in Nagisa’s head, however, instead of his chilling rage, all you got was a sad, nostalgic smile.

“Very well (y/n), it’s ok.” You couldn’t feel relieved from his ambiguous tone. Your very gut screaming at you that something was wrong.

And your gut was right.

“It’s ok, I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I’m sure of it but I’m sorry because if I can’t have you then nobody can.” In the blink of an eye, Nagisa charged at you with a dagger, with speed you didn’t know he possessed, while you were frozen in place in fear.

However, before he could reach you, the blond, brawny man moved like the wind, catching the hand that threatened you, firing an explosion at the wrist in a show of wrath, probably giving Nagisa third degree burns, then twisting his arms behind his back and pushing him harshly into the floor. The level of strength between them was visibly imbalanced to the blondes' favour, Nagisa was by no means fit or sturdy, not at all when compared to the wall of strength in front of you.

The officers, novices who should have expected this turn of events by all means, have proven to be useless until the very end of this spectacle, thanking the blond the blond profusely while handcuffing the hysterical Nagisa, who was taken kicking and screaming by one of the officers while one stayed behind.

“Miss (y/n), I believe? Sorry we couldn’t prevent this unsavoury turn of events, that criminal will be locked for good, you don’t have to worry about him.” The officer tried to reassure the frightened lady in front of him, disappointed that a yandere would try to kill the person he loves. That was one of the most prohibited laws, though what can he expect from a criminal?

“You don’t have to worry about your safety though, as it turns out, you will be rehomed with Mr Dynamight. This will serve as both a punishment for the offending yandere and a way for darlings who haven’t earned their freedom to stay with their next eligible caretaker.”

You nodded shily, overwhelmed by the influx of information directed at you. It didn’t help that you barely spoke to anyone besides Nagisa in years.

The officer took your agreeableness in stride, scramming quickly as he physically felt the burn of Bakugou’s stare.

Now it was just him and you.

“You ok?” He managed to mutter, not sure how to start a conversation with you now that he had you.

You nodded, not facing him. Are you ok?

You felt the moisture gathering in your eyes, making your eyes seem like gleaming crystals.

Of course you weren’t ok.

You just had the person who, for years, claimed they loved you, stole you against your will and forced you to adapt to a lifestyle that suited them try to kill you. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry but apparently your body did as it broke into a sob.

Your shoulders shook in failing effort to try to hide yourself from him-Mr Dynamight or something, but he felt his heart clench when he heard you sniffle.

You heard him kiss his teeth, and you had a half mind to apologise, having unfond memories of the sound, but he instead, to your surprise, brought his beefy arms around you and embraced you warmly.

Your crying halted, head turning up to fave him with a ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look in your eyes, making him blush and turn away from you with another kiss of his teeth.

“Stop crying.”

Why did his simple gesture stop your tears? Why are you not trying to make a run for it?

Most importantly, why do you feel something warm blooming in your chest instead of hate?

You looked at him, trying to channel all the hate you harbored for Nagisa for this newfound captor of yours, but all you could think about is when he saved you from Nagisa’s sharp blade— how strong and capable he was, really, shouldn’t you be thankful?

At that moment, you experienced something that never happened to you in your years of being with Nagisa.

You blushed.

……

You stepped through Bakugou’s house, already having an idea of what kind of lavish place it is from the exterior, but you were nevertheless impressed.

The place is something out of a movie, extremely different to the small and cozy apartment you lived in. Everything seemed up to date and costly.

You didn’t notice Bakugou preening in pride at the impressed look on your face. He tried to appear nonchalant, but he was seconds away from grabbing your hand in excitement as he tours you around the place.

Still, he wanted some form of contact with you, so he opted to put a hand behind your back, excusing it as you being too slow when you turned to him with a quizzical look.

His hand felt warm on your back.

“This is the bathroom nearest to your room, but there’s one in your room as well.”

Your room. It felt strangely delighting to have something be your own, when previously everything was ours with Nagisa. Everything was happening so quickly, you didn’t know whether you should try to pause to catch your breath or pick up your pace.

“And uh, this is your room.” This time you did notice Bakugou’s redness, it was quite hard not to when his entire face was red. Of course it would be.

The room looked like it was something out of a barbie house. Soft, pastel rugs paired with baby pink curtains. Plush, stuffed dolls littered the place, some small and some big enough to engulf you. You slowly stepped inside, unsure how to feel about this interior, until you felt your bed. It was also a gentle pink, but the catch was how featherlight soft it was, it felt silky, and the mattress reminded you of when you’d dream of sleeping on a cloud.

“Like it?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your blessed face. That’s the first he’s seen this expression on you. He feels almost cheated, like he would have seen way more of you and learnt way more than he already knows if that piece of shit let you out.

You hummed to him in response.

“Good, ‘cuz it’s your nap time now.”

“Huh?” You straightened your back, looking at him in protest.

“But, I still have things to ask you! Plus, I don’t need a freaking nap-“

“Sleep now, questions later.”

The sun was starting to dip, giving the room a warm, orange glow which did make you feel somewhat lethargic. Bakugou closed the curtains, and shut the door, but surprisingly didn’t leave your room. He pulled the covers back, gesturing for you to slip under. You were afraid for a moment that he was gonna slither his way inside as well, uninvited. But he merely sat besides your supine form.

“Um-?”

“I’m gonna stay here ‘till you fall asleep.” You nodded mutely, not finding a point to objecting anymore. You never have a say anyways. But, this wasn’t so bad. He put his large hand on your head, caressing it and admiring its texture, and how amazing it feels beneath his fingers. You felt his touch to be invasive at first. Who does he think he is, touching you when you don’t even know him?

But you don’t speak. You instead relax and let the stress you built up melt away, and you welcome sleep.

…..

Your eyes slowly fluttered open to the feeling of someone lately shaking you. You were disoriented, glancing around the fluffy place in confusion, your eyes looking adorably lost and confused.

“C’mon dumbass. It’s time for dinner.”

Oh, right, you were living with him now.

“I put the clothes you’re gonna wear on your bed, and here are your slippers.” You glanced on the bed, seeing a comfy looking white, silky pyjama dress slippers at the foot of your bed.

“Ok.” You nodded, “I got it.”

He gave you one final final intense look leaving your bedroom.

…….

In the dining room, Bakugou had already set everything up. He made your favourite food, lit up some candles and sat down, anxious glancing at the door and waiting for you to appear. Will you like it? Will you ask him questions? Do you enjoy living with him so far?

If the answer to some of those questions is no, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He does know that you aren’t going anywhere though.

You quietly walked in, feeling the tension increase with each step you took.

You spied the contents on the table, salivating at the smell of your favourite food like a starved ogre, not even bothering to grimace at the memory of Nagisa’s poor attempt at making it.

Bakugou was salivating as well, but for different reasons. He couldn’t look away from your exposed skin, staring creepily as if he’s never seen a leg before.

The meal was consumed with awkwardness, neither party breaking the ice. You were afraid of confrontation, of asking too many questions and receiving nothing but anger and resentment in return. He seems so much nicer than Nagisa, you didn’t want him to hate you.

The silence reigned, and the dishes were cleared away and being washed by Bakugou, who insisted you stay near him but also insisted you stay unoccupied.

Every moment that passed felt like a moment lost, and you kept summoning your courage, but the words just wouldn’t leave your mouth. Maybe you should build up to what you really wanted to ask instead of jumping straight to it.

You saw his red eyes sneakily glancing at you, rapidly leaving your form when you noticed him, causing his ears and face to flush.

“So um, what do you do?” he quirked an eyebrow, looking at you strangely while his movements didn’t pause.

“You-you don’t know?!” he exploded, looking at you in disbelief. You just shook your head like a deer caught in headlights.

Oh, that shit must’ve not let you watch TV much.

“I’m a pro hero.”

Your eyes widened in wonder, the decadence of the place suddenly making sense.

“Cool! What’s your quirk?” he ditched the dishes, excitedly showing you his quirk and explaining how it works, delighted at your cute smile and interest in him. The air felt charged and lively, and maybe that’s what led you to ask the questions that have being nagging at you.

“So um, how did you-uh, how did you even find out anything about me?”

Your heart dropped when you saw the excitement on his face disappear, his usual scowl in place of it.

“You told me your name, that’s all I needed to know. I never stopped thinking about you ever since I saw you, I tried but I couldn’t. If even someone as strong as me can end up on death's door, then what would happen to you? I couldn’t just leave you.” At this point, he was caressing your face, looking at you with love stricken eyes. You were reminded of who you were talking to, you were talking to a Protective yandere, who took you.

You didn’t have to ask anything else really, pandora’s box opened, and everything you weren’t previously privy to is now made obvious to you.

“It sickened me though, knowing you actually fucking belonged to someone else. So how could I leave you? I had to save you like you saved me.” he had both of his huge hands on your face, looking at you with pure insanity, love, adoration and bloodthirst swirling and mixing in his irises. He was a yandere, he was the person every ordinary person should fear, he has you in his clutches, you should be trying to escape and regain your freedom, you saw first hand how easily capable of hurting you he could be if he wanted… So why weren’t you scared?

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griffintail · 3 years

Text

Finding a Forgotten Memory

Summary: A happy ending for this post and this one.

Pairings: Parental! Ghostbur x F! Child! Reader

Tommy x F! Child! Reader

Warnings: ANGST! But there’s a happy ending.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy swept his gear on the floor as he paced the length of his bedroom in his hotel, warm tears rolling down his face.

He remembered the day Ghostbur had stormed into his home, balling, his tears creating smoke, that he couldn’t find his little blue. He had assured the ghost, she was fine. Probably hiding or she wandered a little farther than she should have.

Grabbing his sword in case the search took too long, he followed Ghostbur into his sewer he’d moved back into after Tommy’s freedom from exile. Inside, Tommy had a few doubts as he looked at the bit of wreckage around the place.

“Did you do this looking for her Ghostbur?” Tommy asked, sitting a barrel upright.

“N-No. I-I s-s-s-he…” The ghost couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

“I’ll look outside. Stay here in case she comes back alright?”

Ghostbur nodded rapidly, clutching onto an already full piece of blue. Tommy nodded before leaving the sewer calmly then booking it to Phil’s.

“Phil!” Tommy shouted, slamming the door open, startling the man and his crows. “There’s something wrong with Ghostbur.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Phil immediately stood up.

Tommy explained the situation and they both gathered everyone they could, a search party formed. (Y/N)’s name was shouted into the wind as everyone separated into many corners of the Dream SMP land and the L’Manberg land. Even people like Sapnap and Punz helped them look in their more familiar areas.

But they couldn’t find the little girl and mobs had started to come out. Tommy, Phil, Techno, Fundy, and a few of L’Manberg citizens continued their searches. Techno and Phil went into more in-depth searches or rather questionings. Yet…there was no word of her…

That was the night Phil fabricated the lie.

“We’ll only use it till we figure out what happened. Ghostbur will have to believe it because Fundy refuses to talk to him but he likes (Y/N).” Phil assured the younger as he fidgeted in worry.

They’d try to figure out what happened in the next few days!

…

Then a few days turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks turned into two months…

They’d lost hope and even though there was no message on the walkies, they knew the magic had a range and (Y/N) …she had to be gone…They didn’t know what happened, could only speculate.

Time had to move on and people grieved, Tommy taking it hard as the little girl had helped him through hell without knowing. She was part of his family and she had made him smile when he needed it the most, not even knowing he had needed her little games and laughs. He wished he had those when he had gone through the final battle with Dream, yet even after his victory, he continued to grieve and now seethe as Dream dangled a fruit of revival in front of him.

Listening to the same horse shit, day after day…

They had told Ghostbur once or twice in the beginning but Phil told everyone to keep up the lie when the ghost would just break completely, unable to function at all. Tommy couldn’t handle it anymore that Ghostbur didn’t remember the one thing he thought the ghost would never forget. That he wasn’t grieving like him. The little girl only helped Tommy through a rough time but that same little girl was Ghostbur’s entire world! It wasn’t fair to her memory that Ghostbur simply forgot the end of it!

He knew the ghost couldn’t help it and that the ghost would break if he actually remembered but it frustrated him to no end because Tommy didn’t forget and broke at his own memories and he couldn’t live like this anymore! He…he couldn’t let the little girl be gone any longer…

He looked at the prison from his window, before clenching his hands. He needed to pay an “old friend” a visit.

…

Tommy stood on the other side of the netherite blocks as the lava behind him finished cascaded down and the barrier was gone between him and the smiley masked man.

“Tommy! What do I owe the pleasure?” Dream asked, spreading his arms as he laughed.

“Business. I want that revive book Dream.”

“The revive book? You know I can’t just give that to you Tommy. I won’t revive Wil—”

“Not…Wilbur,” Tommy muttered.

Yes, the boy wanted his older brother back but he wanted this little girl back first.

“Not Wilbur? Who would you want? Not Schlatt.” Dream mocked and Tommy clenched his jaw.

“Just shut up you bastard and listen!” Tommy shouted and Dream stopped, watching. “You’re going to bring (Y/N) back or I’ll never visit you again and we both know how much you want me to visit.”

Dream stood there before grinning wickedly behind his mask. “(Y/N)? Huh. You’re going to have to remind me who they are…”

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO SHE IS!” Tommy snapped, doing his best to keep his tears in. “She was the little girl you hated because she made me happy during exile!!”

“Oooh, right. Ghostbur’s kid.” He chuckled, turning from him. “How’s he doing?”

Tommy restrained himself with great difficulty.

“Such a bad memory, his child going missing, I’m sure he’s practically been destroyed…”

Tommy felt the warm tears in the corner of his eyes as he took deep breaths.

“Or did he finally forget the little brat?”

He lost it.

He pinned Dream to the obsidian wall and barked at his smiley mask.

“YOU’RE GOING TO BRING HER BACK RIGHT NOW YOU GREEN FUCKING PRICK!”

Then Tommy saw his wicked grin under his mask.

“I’d love to Tommy, but I can’t bring back what’s living.”

“W-What?” Tommy sputtered, confused.

Dream laughed as Tommy let him go.

“You never saw the message because there was no message to have! It wasn’t my goal after all to kill her.”

Tommy’s world stopped before his heart pounded. She…She was still alive?! But Dream had been in prison for three months after they finally decided she was gone. She…She wouldn’t have survived…

“And now that you know, the clock is ticking Tommy. Will you lose her and have to deal with another ghost? Of course, I can make it simple. Let me out and I’ll give her right back.”

Tommy shook. He had mourned for her. He had stopped…looking for her…

Shaking his head, Tommy stepped behind the barrier, it going up, shocking Dream. No, Tommy needed to make this right.

“I’ll find her. Suck it, green boy.” Tommy snarled, before stepping onto the bridge.

“YOU WON’T! SHE’LL DIE BEFORE YOU FIND HER TOMMY! ONLY I KNOW WHERE SHE IS AND SHE’LL STARVE SLOWLY!”

But Dream underestimated Tommy’s determination…

…

“PHIL!” Tommy shouted on the walkie as he sprinted back for his hotel for his gear.

“Don’t talk to me, Tommy! How could—” Phil started to yell at him.

“(Y/N) IS STILL ALIVE!”

“W-What?” Phil stopped.

“I went to Dream to revive her and he admitted to taking her. She’s still alive. We need to find her now!”

Tommy slid slightly as he got to the entrance of the hotel before dashing in.

“H-How, what?!”

“IT’S A LONG STORY NOW WE NEED TO LOOK! We need to every fucking place Dream’s ever been!”

They had figured she had been kidnapped. They just hadn’t known by who. Dream had been prime suspect, but even then, he had an alibi; and at the time, they couldn’t exactly search the most powerful man’s places.

“O-Ok. Ok! I’ll get everyone!”

Tommy grabbed his gear and went to meet with everyone else. The search was back months later but they had new information. Dream was tricky with his hiding and everyone had to be clever as they went into different corners of the world…

Tommy didn’t sleep for two days as they searched everywhere they could as his thoughts went rampant. What if Dream was just messing with him again? Lying to get him to let him out! What if Tommy had just given everyone false hope…

Then as the sun just breaking into light purples on a new day, Tubbo cried out on the walkie.

“WE FOUND SOMETHING! WE FOUND SOMETHING IN DREAM’S BUNKER!”

Fear didn’t even grip Tommy as he sprinted for the nether portal. Tubbo, Ranboo, and a small crew of others took to the task of taking the bunker physically apart in hopes to find anything.

Tubbo justified by saying this was where Dream had held his biggest cards. He wouldn’t have kept (Y/N) too far from there.

Tommy stumbled into the room as he saw Ranboo standing back to be there if someone got stuck as Tubbo, Foolish, and Jack carefully digging around a mechanism they had destroyed. Tommy pulled out his own pick and joined them.

After some time, they managed to crumble away stone into a hallway.

“I’ll go,” Tommy muttered.

He hated the tight space of the hall but he had to know and if it was a trap, he wanted to take it. Carefully going down the hall with his axe instead, he didn’t go too far before he found a door. Opening it slowly, he found a plain room and…a little girl in a dirty blue hoodie spinning around bored in the room.

“(Y/N)!” Tommy choked on a sob before dashing into the room and hugging her tightly.

She yelped in surprise before grinning widely. “Uncle Tommy! I told Dream you’d visit!”

Tommy cried as he squeezed her. She was so naïve as always. She hadn’t changed in the missing months…He missed his niece so much.

“Your crying! I don’t have any blue.” She said, looking around the empty room.

“I-I’m ok (Y/N).” He laughed quietly. “They’re happy tears…but there’s a ghost that would love to see you…”

She gasped. “I missed daddy! Is he here?”

“No…but I know he’d love to play a game of hide and seek…”

“Ok, do you have any food? The tall man hasn’t brought me any.” She explained as he stood up.

He frowned in confusion before his eyes went wide. The person that had been helping Dream while he was in prison.

“(Y/N), what did she look like?” Tommy asked quickly.

She shrugged. “He was very tall and he wore funny clothes and he wore a mask.”

“Like Dream’s?”

She shook her head. Tommy frowned deeply. Who the hell had been helping him?

“I don’t have food on me but I’m sure Ghostbur will gladly give you dinner.”

She grinned as he carried her out. The others cheered seeing the pair, sharing hugs with her as Tommy continued to hold her. Everyone over the radio celebrated as Ranboo made the announcement. Phil nearly collapsed in happiness when they got to L’Manberg, relieved he hadn’t lost another child he had helped care for.

Reluctantly, before Tommy brought her to the sewer, Tommy told her not to tell Ghostbur about her “trip”. It was a little secret between the two of them. She promised not to tell and Tommy brought her into the sewer, seeing Ghostbur was doing his daily morning to find his little blue. He hid (Y/N) in a barrel he knew Ghostbur checked before rushing out.

He waited by the door as he heard a cry of laughter, smiling lightly before leaving, his work done.

“There you are little blue! It’s breakfast time, not time to play hide and seek!” Ghostbur laughed, hugging the little girl tightly, not really understanding why he had before he gasped hearing her stomach rumble. “You’re starving! Let’s have a big breakfast!”

She giggled, agreeing with him as she snuggled into him.

“Your hoodie is getting dirty, we’ll wash that before we go visit Phil and Tommy, ok?”

“Ok, daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too my little blue. I love you so much.” He muttered without thinking, nuzzling the top of her hoodie.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #ghostbur x reader #tommyinnit x reader #dreamsmp x reader

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

Don't Breathe - Chris Evans smut

The one where your best friend and your boyfriend are fucking behind your back.

Warnings: smut, cheating, chris x your best friend, humiliation?, chris is an asshole in this, exhibitionism, the betrayal is real

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: this is sort of a companion piece to breathe, hence the same picture. While that one explores the extremes of loyalty, this one explores the extremes of betrayal. I also couldn't bring myself to create another moodboard. I wrote this story in one sitting, in the last anxiety episode I had and it helped me get to the place I am today - a better place than I was before, so while I'm grateful for it, I'm only publishing this to give myself some closure. I haven't edited it. I haven't asked anyone to beta read it for me because I simply can't look at it anymore. But it might help some of you, and it might even arouse some others (yes, there are people who have cheating kinks. Let's all be grown-ups and accept that sexuality is a complex and difficult thing. I won't accept kinkshaming in this blog). I only ask that you do not ask me about this story, how it came to be or any sort of part two's because I literally can't stand to look at it. Thanks, you guys!

“Bitch really has no idea, huh?” Chris chuckled as he welcomed his mistress on his lap, licking his lip at the sight of the voluptuous body on top of his. He’d been dreaming about it for a while now, imagining it was her he was fucking when she was away and he had to fuck his girlfriend.

“Not a clue.” He was a bastard, he knew it. He was a son of a bitch, a good for nothing. He didn’t deserve to ever be happy again, not after this, but he couldn’t come to regret it. Not when your best friend was rubbing her cunt against his dick so sensuously, tempting him with her full pout and big breasts.

“She’s always been dumb,” she commented, like she wasn’t speaking about the woman she claimed to love more than anything in the world. Maybe that should have worried Chris, but for whatever reason, it just made him harder.

He really wasn’t worth shit.

“Can’t even figure out that every time we disappear at a party, I’m really just sucking your dick.” Chris chuckled as he buried his thumb on her mouth, chuckle turning into a groan as the beautiful woman twirled her tongue around his digit.

“I mean, this was how it started, wasn’t it, baby?” He reminded her. “You ditched her in the middle of the club to meet me in the bathroom and offer some help with the package I’d been hiding in my pants… Didn’t even have the time to doubt it before you were dropping to your knees and crawling towards me.”

The little vixen smirked at the memory, face suddenly lighting up as she let go of my dick to get out of bed. “Hey!” He complained, still smiling because he could see she was up to no good. “Where are you going?”

She had my phone in her hands when she climbed back to bed, a perfectly plucked eyebrow high in her forehead as she typed away in it. He’d never let you learn the password but what could he possibly hide from his mistress?

“Call her.” It wasn’t as much a request as it was a statement, since when she threw the phone on his chest, it was already ringing. A panicked look broke free on his face before he shook his head, smirking at her insanity.

Goddamn it if it didn’t make him harder than he’d ever been before.

“Hello?” Your sweet voice was the perfect dichotomy to the act he was partaking in, and he had to bite his lip so you wouldn’t figure out what was happening as your best friend leaned over his cock to take it in her mouth.

“Hey, honey,” Chris greeted, trying to keep his voice as smooth as possible. He could totally do this. He was an actor, after all.

“Is something wrong?” You questioned, and for a second both him and your friend froze, fearing you’d heard something. “You just left, I figured you wouldn’t call me until tomorrow.”

Chris chuckled lightly at your innocence - and the clear happiness you felt at him deciding to call so soon. He already knew what to say to plunge the knife even deeper into you.

“Oh, you know…” He trailed off, biting his lip again as your best friend swallowed his cock. “Just missed you.” He didn’t miss the smirk on her eyes. She didn’t need to speak or even stop sucking him for him to know that she was enjoying this, so he kept going, entertaining you with mindless conversation until you remembered you actually had to call her.

“Oh, I promised I’d call her… We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” You assured him, blissfully unaware of the betrayal you were suffering. “Bye, baby. I love you.” You disconnected the call before he could even lie about that too, but a few minutes later her phone began ringing.

She was still giggling when she picked up, now having stopped sucking him to rub her tight wet cunt against him again, teasing them both. “Bitch, you’ll never guess,” she greeted as soon as you said hello, and just as you asked what was up, she lowered herself down on Chris’ cock.

Your man’s cock. While she was talking to you. “I’m fucking someone right at this second.” He could hear your stunned silence, but you knew your friend had always been crazy - especially sexually.

It was the difference between the two of you that made him so obsessed.

“And he doesn’t mind?” You asked, clearly surprised, and Chris almost laughed when your best friend answered, “Oh, no. He gets off on it. Would you mind staying in line and listening for a bit? He’d really enjoy it.”

You hesitated only for a moment before agreeing, and that’s when she allowed herself to moan out loud. “God, what a fucking dick!” She cursed, fingernails gripping his pecks as she rode him for dear life. “I swear to god, you have no idea how it feels like to be fucked like this.”

You remained silent. Chris could almost picture it, the way you had one fingernail in your mouth, chewing on it as you tried to decide between keeping your promise and listening to your best friend fucking (your) man or leaving the phone on and going to do the laundry.

You were such a perfect girlfriend. So devoted, everything Chris should marry. His family loved you - hell, he thought he loved you. And here he was, fucking your best friend while you listened to her moans of pleasure.

He felt her eyes trailing down his body and he already knew what she wanted. They were a perfect match in bed. He manhandled her onto her stomach, knowing you were listening to her surprised scream and loud moan as he penetrated her from behind.

“So, so good…” She moaned. Chris had no doubt her eyes were rolling to the back of her head. “Would you ever stop fucking me, baby?” She teased, making Chris chuckle, knowing the sounds of his hips slapping against her full ass were drowning his voice from you. “Would you ever stop fucking my tight little pussy?”

He leaned over her, body completely enclosing hers in bed when he gripped her jaw to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance in hell.” Her delighted moan made it all worthy to him. He pulled out of her to turn her around once more, spreading her legs so he could have a taste of her pussy.

Eyes connected, he watched her reach for the phone and take it off the speaker so she could talk to you properly. “This guy eats pussy like a pro,” she informed you while Chris grinned between her legs, her fingers tangled in the strands of your boyfriend’s hair. “And he tells me it’s the best pussy he has ever had, don’t you, baby?”

Chris could only nod, obsessed with the taste of her sweet pussy on his tongue, the loud sounds of slurping undoubtedly reaching you. He could only imagine how you were feeling, confused and maybe a little bit aroused. It was like sound porn, after all - and it was starred by your very own boyfriend, but you had no idea.

He hummed against her pussy. You could never taste as sweet, try as you might. Even her painted lips tasted better, and he knew it wasn’t because of the lipstick she wore since you two often shared.

She moaned loudly when he shoved two fingers inside of her, having memorized her sweet spot ages ago, when this still made him feel bad and he’d often hurl when he got home to find you in bed, waiting for him.

And yet, he couldn’t stop. He waited for her to turn off the call so he could climb back up her body, kissing every inch of the way until he was buried deep inside her tight pussy again.

“You make me crazy,” he whispered, knowing this would never be enough. He would never get his fill of her. He might love you in one way or another, but he wanted her, and he would never let her go.

#my fics #chris evans smut #chris evans #smut #tw cheating #tw infidelity #tw betrayal

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confessionsof-a-writing-freak · 3 years

Text

I Don't Wanna Be a Memory

Summary:

And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33385405

Rating: Explicit

Ship: James 'Bucky' Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional tags: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha bucky!, Omega Steve!

Bucky’s voice is the single most dangerous weapon he possesses.

Not the guns, or the knives, or even the years of government-issued muscle memory in hand-to-hand combat could compare the carnage that rubbles and quakes the earth when he says Steve's name.

“Stevie,” Low and silky. Full of authority-full of alpha. But still understanding the difference in rank despite the apparent superiority in designation. Never challenging or speaking down, but fuck did it make Steve want to sink to his knees and watch Bucky fall apart due to his mouth for a change.

“Steve?”

Okay, maybe not the entire earth, but Steve’s world sure feels like it’s been turned on its axis.

“...Steve.”

The worst part of it all is Bucky has no idea. No clue. No motivation! He simply exists and speaks like that with no intention of letting his voice get all severe and appetizing for the purpose of getting Steve’s omega excited for Bucky's alpha.

It’s especially distracting during missions.

Steve’s heart races, his conscious thought nowhere to be found as he conjures up impossible scenarios involving his reformed assassin best friend and naked cuddling.

The second they boarded the Quinjet, Steve had torn the earpiece away as if it had burned him.

Can you imagine leading a team or keeping them safe when every so often your second in command asks for your position, voice rough as he asks Steve for orders?!

Can anyone really blame him for getting lost in the phantom sensations of Bucky saying his name like a secret no one else deserves to know?

He didn’t think so.

That being said, all the control he can muster in order to actually complete a mission evaporates into the wind the moment the dance between life and death comes to a close; every suppressed, shameless fantasy unleashed and unforgiving as they consume his every thought.

Steve is abruptly pulled from his most recent daydream when a cool metal hand taps the back of his wrist twice, “You with us, Steve? I’ve been calling your name for a minute now.”

Quickly, Steve straightens his back and squares his shoulders, meeting stormy grey eyes.

“Sorry, Buck. Had a lot on my mind.”, He says with more confidence than he actually has.

It’s not really a lie. He does have a lot on his mind, all the ways he can find himself face down, ass up on the other man’s bed. Drooling and crying and breathing in Buckys scent with every breath he takes.

Of course, he can’t very well say that, can he?

He was lucky the S.H.I.E.L.D issued, super soldier approved suppressants made him nearly null. He can’t fathom the level of embarrassment that would claim him if Buck- or the whole damn plane for that matter- could scent the desperation, horny inside of him.

Bucky shifts closer, grey eyes softening the tiniest bit with concern, “Is everything alright?”

No.

“Yes, of course, “ He lies, “Just thinking about battle techniques is all. Scouts honor!” Steve makes an odd, incorrect gesture as a mock salute.

Bucky allows a small huff of air Steve recognizes as his poor imitation of a chuckle. There’s a moment of fuzzy pride that nearly causes Steve to purr; happy he brought a smile to the alpha’s face before his stomach drops clear down to his toes as murmured laughter rumbles too close to a growl in Buckys chest.

“My memory may be shit, Stevie, but I know for damn sure you weren’t no boy scout.”

Aaaand there it is.

Stevie.

Steves omega stirs and preens before the captain shoves them back down. Resenting the butterflies crying out in his belly and the urge to beg Bucky to just say his name over and over and over…

“Steve?”, This time, the concern isn’t quite as subtle, “Are you sure you’re alright, pal?” Bucky takes a step closer towards the blonde, drawing out skittish blue eyes, lowering his voice in case anyone was listening.

Again, the omega clears his throat and squares his shoulders.

“Did you want to tell me something, Sargent?”

Bucky opens his mouth, defiance dancing on his tastebuds before something makes him snap it shut, offering a curt nod, “Yes, Captain.” His voice strained, everything he wants to say lodged in his throat.

“I just wanted to let you know that we should be landing in less than 15 minutes.”

Like before, Bucky opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it. Choosing instead to take a seat beside his captain, slipping his arms through the provided harness. He gives Steve a pointed look, “We should probably buckle up.”

For a moment, Steve is taken back to the war. When his body was just beginning to react to the serum and the increased suppressants. (The government had taken every percussion necessary to ensure the public wouldn’t know Captain America was an omega.)

After Steve became ‘big’ and outranked Bucky in the military, the brunette never did anything but follow him into the fire. Loyal and boundless. Never questioning his strategies or actions unless it put him in direct danger. That didn’t mean he could keep himself from telling Steve what to do. He just found different ways to do it.

Suggesting tasks, like putting on seatbelts, for instance. Strapping extra weapons to his ankles before handing one to Steve and forcing it into his hands even when the blonde would roll his eyes, whispering his disapproval so only he would hear.

Never raising his voice or permitting his tone to deepen or his scent to take on that spicy, electric feel that never failed to make Steve bare his neck. Never stepping out of line. Never disrespecting or demeaning Steves title. Always in charge anyway.

Bucky doesn’t utter a single command or request, but Steve buckles up anyhow. Drinking in the small, hardly there smile that Bucky offers to the air in front of him, not even meeting Steve’s gaze. And the omega hates the happiness, the relief he feels at satisfying Bucky.

Hates that Bucky doesn’t even have to tell him what to do for him to obey. Hates that he has to obey, even though Bucky doesn’t need him to anymore.

He doesn’t need him anymore...

Bucky still hasn’t said a word when they land, but it’s not like Steve gave him much of an opportunity.

Things have been strained between them since Steve began pulling away. Avoiding Bucky’s calls and limiting their time together.

It was just easier that way. Miserable and lonely, but easier.

The moment the Quinjet is stationary, the supersoldier is up on his feet and stomping down the runway, leaving the Avengers and Bucky behind him.

He needs to breathe.

He can’t breathe!

If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was having an asthma attack. It feels like an asthma attack.

Steve’s eyes sting with unshed tears, taking large gulps of air into his lungs, and it burns!

He arrives at his door by the grace of God, not remembering entering the tower or if he passed anyone on his way.

“Jarvis. Door.” He gasps. Actual fear starting to seep into his bones.

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” The AI responds, the oversized steel doors swinging open.

Distantly, Steve hears the door shut behind him and feels himself settle against a wall. He pushes his back against the surface and tries to even out his breathing. Revisiting everything he can remember about how to resolve an asthma attack.

After several attempts, he stumbles into a somewhat consistent breathing pattern, his chest heaving at a slower rate.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose…

It’s not working!

Steve’s heartbeat only hammers against his chest and neck quicker, his breathing sharply turning back into hyperventilation.

It’s then that he realizes he isn’t having an asthma attack at all. He’s having a panic attack.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. InthroughthenoseOutthroughthemouth.

Why isn’t this working!?

The blonde clenches his eyes shut, a sob fighting its way past trembling lips. He feels so alone. So unwanted, Unwarranted.

He thinks back to the 40s- back to him and Bucky. After the serum, during the war. Hidden behind the cover of night and an abandoned building at the far end of Base. The first time since the change, his heart felt like it would crawl its way up Steves throat and swan dive right off his tongue.

Struggling to ease the fogginess in his mind, Steve remembers strong arms wrapped around his waist. Cool metal poking his nose as he bumped Bucky’s dog tags with each of his movements, scenting warm flesh.

Bucky’s voice is rumbling demands, his voice leaving no room for argument while every word was also laced with patience and love. Scent projecting love, understanding, I’m here, you’re safe.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

He repeats the mantra until Steve’s Omega obeyed his alpha, sucking in lung fulls of oxygen and releasing it in time with Buckys orders.

The memory of bombs and gunshots lost behind the sound of Bucky’s voice.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

He conjures up the memory of Buckys voice, coated in alpha command, urging him to breathe evenly. Fingers digging into Steve’s flushed skin, grounding him.

His alpha always knows what he needs...

Steve misses him.

Misses more than just the raw irrefutable attraction that got them into more trouble than it should have growing up. But he misses the rest of him too.

Misses the smirks and the long nights dreaming of what the future would bring. He misses Bucky’s laugh. God, he can hardly remember what it sounds like now.

Steve misses the way he would kiss. Gently. Chaste. Rough. Long. Kiss him in private and kiss him places that weren’t safe. On the stoop in front of their apartment, before the sun would come up and wandering eyes could catch them. Or alone in their bedroom, lips starting on his eyelids, across purple bruises, then down to his chest. Swallowing the omega’s moans and grinning into his mouth before settling beside him and chuckling deep into his ear, the last thing Steve would hear before sleep would overcome him. He misses the way Bucky would say his name like a prayer, wrap his lips around every letter like a caress, eyes sparkling with their love.

He misses knowing he’ll never be alone.

His heart thunders in his ears, chest feeling seconds away from crumbling in on itself as he thinks maybe it was easier when he believed the alpha was dead. Before he found out Bucky was alive, he mourned the man who loved him. Now, he grieves the love he’s lost. The alpha- his alpha-standing beside him without an ounce of affection or desire in his eyes.

Bucky wasn’t mourning the loss of Steve because he didn’t want Steve. Not anymore.

He clearly remembered enough. He may remember it all. However, knowing didn’t mean he had any intention of returning to what they had.

But even if every memory was gone, if the omega mattered at all, Bucky would remember him- his soul! If Steve himself were robbed of his past and they were just meeting again for the first time, he knew his soul would remember Buckys. Would want to know him all over, not needing to understand why!

The tears are falling before Steve has the chance to notice. A jagged whine barreling past his lips. All the weight of devastation and loneliness finally falling onto his shoulders.

Bucky had met him again. But he didn’t need him the same. Didn’t know his Omega; he didn’t want his heart.

Steve slumps further against the wall, blonde hair drenched in sweat, hands clawing at his chest, trying fruitlessly to manage his racing heart.

Closing his eyes, the omega summons an image of Bucky smiling reassuringly, soothing him as he tells him what to do.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

Okay… okay. That’s better.

“It hurts to think of you,” The omega confesses to no one, the tears running past his chin onto his suit. But I need you, “And I can’t breathe without you.”

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. I’ve got you, Stevie. In and out. That’s it. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

Steve allows himself to sink deeper into his fantasy, swearing he could actually feel Bucky's hands running down his back and through his hair.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

It’s the last thing Steve hears before he passes out.

***

Steve is warm.

Steve’s bed has always been too soft, even after Sam suggested a firmer mattress. While helpful, he still couldn’t manage anything better than a fitful half-sleep most nights. He knew why, but in an effort to avoid further misery, he chooses not to dwell too much on that matter.

Aside from the too-soft mattress and the alpha missing from his bed, the omega was never warm enough. He shivered and reached out for body heat too far from his reach. But…

Steve is warm...

For a moment, he swears arms are around him.

And for a moment, he doesn’t care who they belong to. Because he isn’t shivering, for once. Isn’t suffering through another cold sweat, and the omega constantly pacing within him is actually settled. He hasn’t been this comfortable since the previous century, so whoever the hell is beside him can very well stay where they are, as long as he can keep this feeling.

It’s with another breath, he feels consciousness slowly creep up on him.

He almost laughs at the thought of being comfortable in anyone else’s arms. Of course, Bucky should have been his first thought, but honestly, at this point, Bucky willingly in his bed was a cruel dream.

Bucky must be using the same blockers Steve does. His Omega can’t scent him even this close, but who else’s arms fit so perfectly around him?

It’s the closest they’ve been at all since rescuing Bucky from Hydra, and Steve hated it as much as he loved it.

He wants to go back to sleep. Wants to bask in the warmth Bucky offers and pretend they’re back in their tiny apartment in Brooklyn. Struggling to make ends meet and unplagued by the horrors of war. Hidden from the world behind wilting wallpaper, sharing sweet kisses and bruising grips.

But this isn’t 1939. Bucky doesn’t share his bed...or his affections.

He would give anything to go back. He’d give anything to have his alpha again.

“I didn’t know you still had panic attacks.”, of course, Bucky noticed he wasn’t asleep anymore.

Steve feels him shift away, the arm around his waist, already feather-light, hardly there.

The omega within him whines, not wanting him to pull away. No, he wants him to climb on top of him. To drop all of his weight onto Steve’s hopeless body, make him stay in place. Unable to move until Bucky tells him he can...

Steve clenches his eyes tightly, suppressing his every unrelenting instinct from manifesting into something that will only push Bucky further away. And he needs him. Steve needs him, even if it is killing him.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about, Buck.”, the omega remarks, his back still firmly pressed to Bucky’s chest.

Bucky may be ready to move, but Steve certainly isn’t. It’s not like the Alpha will say anything. Steve is far from perfect, despite whatever bullshit the news wants to feed the public. Steve is flawed and can be as selfish as anyone else. There are times where he permits his gaze to linger longer than it should, hands lazily pulling back when they should’ve never left his side, to begin with, or say Buckys name in the dead of night, surrounded by nothing but darkness and the sticky evidence of his spent weaknesses.

In private or in front of the alpha, Steve has toed the line of what is appropriate between friends and behavior shared between lovers.

Bucky has never reacted to any of it. Robotic and perfect all at once. His responses are exactly what they’re supposed to be, feeling false all the same.

Never contesting. Never reacting. As if Steve doesn’t ache for him.

It’s then that the confusion begins to twist at the recess of the omega’s mind.

“Why are you in my bed, Buck?” And how can I keep you here?

There’s a beat of silence, Bucky’s breath even beside Steve’s ear. It almost feels rehearsed, as if Bucky is concentrating on his breathing. Steve shakes the thought away before he can fool himself for the millionth time something is there that has proven again and again to be long ago dead.

“I was worried about you,” Bucky eventually admits, the arm just barely resting on Steve’s hip returning to its previous pressure, fingers hot and electrifying as they accidentally meet bare flesh peeking beneath Steve’s sleep shirt.

Sleep shirt?

“Did you change my clothes?” Steve says without thinking, saying anything to stop himself from moaning. He can’t remember the last time Buckys hands were this close to his body without explosions and frantic shouts playing in the background.

He turns his neck enough to meet Bucky’s clouded grey gaze.

A gasp falls from his lips instinctively, his own eyes widening on their own accord, taking in the receding blood red only just beginning to fade from the alpha’s eyes.

Just like that, Bucky is removing his arm entirely, releasing the Omega and taking all of that delicious warmth with him.

Bucky stays on the bed, though. His back resting against the headboard.

Steve just narrowly stops himself from shouting, ‘No! Stay, please!’, his heart pounding in his ears and his hands burning with the desire to reach out and drag the other man in.

Instead, he swallows his cries and urges his weary muscles into a sitting position, facing away from the former assassin.

While Steve was changed into something more comfortable than his uniform, the omega notices Bucky remains in his clunky tactical gear, down to his boots.

He had no intention of staying, Rogers. Take deep breaths, and give him an out.

He just needs to go.

The blonde is good at pretending. Well, most days anyway, he can fake a smile when the world is falling apart; he can pretend to be happy. But what he can’t seem to do anymore is pretend that he isn’t painfully in love with the man currently sitting on his bed, not a single reminisce of what they once were hanging between them.

He can’t manage a smile or a whisper of optimism when everything good has been taken from him. He knows what’s expected of him, but there are days when the sorrow is crippling, and he feels weaker than he ever did as that little guy from Brooklyn.

Clearly, no more talking is going to happen. And Steve isn’t emotionally stable enough right now to act as if he doesn’t want the alpha to bathe him in his scent, forcing the lingering panic, unwell, lonely away.

He moves to stand when,

“Rest.”

The order is sharp and certainly unintentional.

The shiver that races down Steve’s spine is violent, and his body locks up, ready to obey.

Turning his neck again, Steve catches the profile of the alphas annoyingly handsome face. His eyes are closed, brow pinched in concentration.

Steve stands slowly, hands shaking. It’s sickening how dreadfully good that single word made him feel. Floaty and sated. His blood, always raging, rushing, and crying out, settles within him, preparing to be taken care of.

The logical part of him reminds the omega they’ve been here before. Bucky will do something so woefully familiar, he dilutes himself into thinking he’s still wanted.

It’s never the case.

Steve keeps the hope from his tone when he challenges, “Excuse me?” Waiting for another command with bated breath.

“You should probably rest, Cap,” Bucky folds his arms across his broad chest, still ignoring Steve’s previous question as well as his gaze.

Forcing a smirk that makes him want to throw up, Steve teases, “Are you avoiding my question, Sargent?”

“Steve,” Bucky objects, voice chastizing.

Something uneasy burrows into Steve’s stomach, his body rejecting the discontent emanating off Bucky's skin.

He shrugs away the urge to whine, instead offering an ingenuine chuckle, “Jeez, I’m fine. Why so serious, Buck?”

Bucky stands, eyes hard, glaring right into Steve’s soul. The blonde sucks in a harsh breath, his fingers tingling and breath shallow.

Bucky’s eyes are red.

“Why so serious? “ The alpha growls, not moving from his spot beside Steve’s bed. The distance separating them not making sense in contrast to the intimate edge heavy in the air. It would be comical if not for the current sparking the negative space.

“We’re just gonna pretend like I didn’t find you seconds from passing out less than an hour ago? Is that something casual, am I supposed to just ignore it?”

Steve’s plastic smile fades, a tired expression painting his sharp features, “Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” He sighs, scrubbing his face in frustration, “Ignore it. Like you ignore everything else, Bucky...Just go.”

“What’s tha ‘posed to mean?”

“It means I’m sorry you had to see that, but you don’t have to worry about it.”

“See what? You being irresponsible?”

The thin scrap of patience the omega has evaporates; actually, it burns the fuck up, raging as loud as Steve’s fury, “Irresponsible!?”

The anger shoots through Steve like a wildfire, his temperature rising and his hands balling into fists. If the Alpha didn’t know any better, he’d think Steve was going to punch him.

Even so, he doesn’t back down. Instead, he takes a single step towards the blonde, body tight and rigid. Voice booming when he sneers, “Yes, goddamn it! Irresponsible.”

“Fuck you, Bucky!” Steve shouts, “Who the hell are you to lecture me on being irresponsible?”

“I’m your… I’m your second in command, and if you were struggling with PTSD, you should have told me something! Instead of me following you to your rooms and basically threatening Jarvis into letting me in. You were pale, Steve. Snow White ain’t got shit on how you looked- you were nearly blue! And I’m sorry for stepping in. We can blame it on your biology, but you finally managed to relax when my alpha came forward. It’s irresponsible to let yourself get to that point when you could have come to me- or, or anyone in the avengers for help.”

“You’re sorry,” Steve scoffs, “ You’re sorry you had to help me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, but it’s what you said, isn’t it?” The Omega is nearly in hysterics. Half sad laughs, the only thing keeping him from crying.

“Steve...”

Buckys voice is now soaked in concern, the anger lost behind wisps of worried seeping from his concealed scent. Which serves only to break Steve further.

“Stevie.” Bucky repeats, wondering if Steve was spiraling into another panic attack.

He is only two steps away from him in a second, twitching, never touching but always close.

Steve feels another shock rack his entire body. His name falling from Bucky’s lips so effortlessly. The authority he holds swallowing every syllable. The sheer force of it nearly brings the omega to his knees.

Steve's heart pounds against his chest, like his heart is trying to escape. Running both hands across his face, then over tufts of blonde hair, his hands meeting behind his neck craned up towards the sky. Praying to anyone up there with mercy that Bucky will just leave. He keeps his arms where they arm before he can do something stupid like reach out.

“Bucky, why are you so concerned about it?” Steve’s eyes are still trained to the ceiling.

Steve knows he’s playing with fire. Playing with his own emotions, but sometimes he can swear he lives for it.

Bucky hesitates, watching Steve with careful eyes. “Because…You are our Captain and my best friend. If you need help, I am going to help you.”

The finality in his tone almost sounds like an alpha command, but his words contradict any sense of attraction or desire.

Another huff, gaze and arms dropping, “I’ll be fine once you leave.” Steve counters, harsher than he intended.

But fuck if he cares. Bucky doesn’t want him. He deserves to be a little angry. If he can’t grieve him, he can at least have this!

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” He snaps, “Just leave, James.”

“James? Oh, I’m James now?”

Steve could care less if he’s hurt his feelings. He’s had enough. His heart hurts, and his head aches. He is done playing this ‘I’m okay with everything’ game.

He is not okay with this, Dammit!

His heart is broken. Shattered. Irreplaceable. And he’s just supposed to be okay with that? He’s supposed to be Bucky’s friend and make jokes and smile when he is dying inside? Crying for his alpha- for stability when he feels like his whole world has been rocked?

Well, he’s had enough. He’s behaved for 2 years. He’s done!

Clenching blue eyes shut, Steve feels every carefully constructed wall of deception crumple at their feet.

“I don’t have time for this. Just leave so that I can breathe! I can’t breathe with you here!”

“Stevie…”

“Please,” the omega whimpers, all the fight leaving his body, long pale fingers running through sleep tousled hair, pulling at the roots, “Just stop.”

“Stop what? I can’t stop doing something if I don’t know what it is I’m doing!”

It’s Bucky’s turn to be panicked. In two strides, he’s in front of Steve, feeling the alarm creep up his chest, a flash of something sharpening eerie grey.

“Steve! Answer m-” Bucky lifts his hands as if to reach out for the other man but catches himself before metal could find flesh, “Will you tell me what I am doing wrong?”

Steve wants to cry and scream and rip that stupid mental arm out of its socket just so he can slap Bucky with it.

“Stop!” He repeats desperately, “Just stop! Stop saying my name! Stop talking to me like-like…”

“Like what!?”

Taking a calming breath, Steve forces himself to meet the alpha’s eyes, “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to give you orders and never receive a protest in return?”

There’s a beat of silence accompanied by a blank expression. Steves heart shouting in his chest.

“...What?”

Steve continues, “Telling you what to do and how to do it. At least before you would fight me, yell at me. Make it easier to breathe.”

“Steve, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? You’re my boss. I’m s’posed ta take orders from ya.” Steve just about weeps when the Brooklyn accent begins to peek through, just as it usually does when Bucky is confused.

“Well, I’m not just your boss!”, Steve hears himself say, “I’m not just your boss. I’m also an omega. And I want you to tell me what to do. Your voice is like it’s permanently in alpha command, and I want you to fucking command me! Because I’m not just your boss. I’m not just an omega. I’m your fucking omega! And I can’t stand you saying my name like your seconds away from telling me to get down on my knees because you never do! And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, for precisely one second, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Steve’s eyes are misted with tears, his chest heaving and skin flushed with embarrassment and shame, “Please… Just don’t say my name, or I’m just gonna break.”

The words pour from his lips, and he wants to disappear. He wishes the ground would just swallow him whole and save him from Bucky’s response.

Steve trembles beneath stormy grey, choosing instead to watch the ground. His omega whining and clawing at the back of his mind.

“I can’t do this anymore, Bucky.” He murmurs, waiting for the outrage or worse; the indifference-the clunk of footsteps walking away from the mess he’s made. The life they had. The man he no longer loves.

Steve hasn’t found his eyes again. Won’t move his head. He doesn’t care how submissive it makes him look because he’s spent most of his life searching for steel grey eyes in crowds and across rooms. Seeking them out in the dark, the only beacon of light he would see most days. And now… Now those eyes that kept him so safe when the world was crumbling around them made him feel like winter on a summer day, cold and alone, only seconds from melting into nothing.

He’s not sure how much time passes without a word between them. He waits another moment before surrendering a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shaking his head and turning to leave.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he couldn’t stay here.

Like lightning, Bucky’s right hand snaps forward, catching the omega’s wrist before he can make it far, and just like electricity, a jolt of fire scorches where their skin meets.

As one would an old friend, Steve invites the sensation to consume him, feeling every nerve respond to Bucky, it’s like he was brought back to life, and he wants nothing more than to cry because he knows it won’t last. He knows as soon as the alpha lets go, he’ll return to reality as only half a man. Something-someone always missing from him.

“Steve.”, his breath hitches, and his hands shake. A whisper of a scent he’s all but forgotten seeps into the room, but it’s gone before Steve can determine if it’s only a memory.

Steve’s name rolls off of Bucky’s tongue too easily. Too pretty. Too dark. Too much!

Jesus!

Hadn’t he been clear enough the first fucking time? How else exactly was he supposed to phrase it; ‘Don’t say my name, or I’ll break from how horny it makes me?’

“Steve,” The alpha repeats.

Steve feels another pang of electricity shoot to his fingertips, itching with the need to just touch, “Bucky, I think you should leave.”

He doesn’t want him to. But when was the last time Steve got what he wanted.

“Now,” He adds after another second passes. Bucky's feet were firmly placed on the ground, not a single muscle prepared to even twitch.

The room is blanketed in heavy silence before, “No.”

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. His lips part in surprise, brow furrowed as his heart begins to pick up the pace.

“Excuse me?”

“I hate that I can’t scent you,” The alpha announces, talking slow, calculated steps forward, eradicating any space brave enough to separate them,

“I hate that I can’t tell where you are during missions.” Suddenly Bucky’s grip loosens, yet it doesn’t move far. He runs his hand up Steve’s forearm, fingertips dragging across perfect porcelain skin, not stopping until the palm of his flesh hand rests on Steve’s neck.

“I picture what it would feel like to sink my teeth into your neck and keep you there, with my fangs in your flesh, drawing blood from your skin and moans from your lips. I dream of you whimpering, “ He whispers harshly, eyes trained to Steve’s neck.

The omega’s eyes flutter closed, lips trembling around the alpha’s name, “Bucky,”

Ignoring the blonde, the other man continues, not quite done yet, “I defend those thoughts by saying to myself, it’s all so that I can feel you. So I can feel where you are when we’re in the field. So I won’t worry as much, won’t get distracted. But I know it’s just half of it. I know I want to tell you to take those damn blockers off. To wash it away, or let me lick it away with my tongue-whichever came first.”

“I hate that I want to fall asleep with you curled above my chest because you’ll be warmer that way. And for whatever reason, I remember you always being cold before bed. I want to demand you buckle up and wear extra layers. I want you to fight me a little. I want you to tell me to shut up but get all soft when I give you a hard look. Like, you are now, with my chest touching yours, hands at your neck and waist. Your heart stuttering against me. I want you to tease me because you want me to get annoyed so that I tell you to shut your mouth and put it to good use. I hate that I want to do all these things, but I can’t. Because you don’t want me to...”

Blue pop open, held hostage by grey. Bucky is everywhere. His face is so close Steve can feel every breath the alpha takes fan over his eyelashes. His eyes tracking over the curve of pink lips and soft skin. Left arm curled around Steve’s waist, metal grip unmoving. His other hand still firmly placed over his scent gland, Bucky’s long fingers spread over the column of flesh, thumb running back and forth along the length of it, causing goosebumps to follow his trail of fire.

Steve moans at the sensation, baring his neck so Bucky has the access he would need. His legs nearly giving out beneath him, but the arm at his waist won’t let him fall.

“Are you telling me that you want me to?” Bucky presses. His voice is sharp and promising. The hand around Steve’s neck, a light pressure the omega finds himself pushing into.

“Steve! Look at me. Look at me, omega.”

The blonde hadn’t noticed his eyes fluttering shut again, the sensation of being held, of having so much alpha- his alpha right there in front of him. Soaking him in his scent. Not a true claim or even a scent mark, but this is more than he ever thought he would ever get again.

Bucky’s words have barely registered for the omega; he lost the ability to comprehend English the instant Buckys hands found his body. But he reacts to the order, all the same, seeing the steely, beautiful grey (beginning to tint red again) he has known since he was a boy.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve begins to piece together the things Bucky has confessed, his eyes once more welling with tears.

Patiently, Bucky waits for the understanding to reflect in sapphire eyes, speaking only when he knows the omega can now retain information.

“Are you telling me you want me to touch you, Stevie?” Bucky murmurs, staring at Steve’s bottom lip.

“Yes,” He breathes, just barely audible without an ounce of hesitation.

The next thing Steve knew, Bucky had him against a wall. His nose buried in his neck and his hands rounding his ass, using his shoulders to pin Steve to the wall and lift his legs until the omega joined the program and wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s hardening cock pushing into his hip.

“Oh shit, Buck!”

“ I have to say your name,” Bucky growls, grinding into his omega.

“As much as I can, even if it doesn’t work in the conversation, because it’s the closest I can get you in my mouth. It tastes like heaven, and memories I can’t decipher are real or just fantasy they- Oh, fuck baby. Yeah, Stevie- They don’t compare to this- Keep moving, just like that, babydoll.”

Steve ruts against Buckys friction, his eyes closed tightly, whatever was left of their blockers bleeding out, replacing the neutral aroma in the room with their combined scents, desperation, and slick.

“God, Bucky. I missed you so much. I’ve been so alone.”

Buckys mouth finds Steve’s trembling lips, nothing subtle or slow about his movements. The alpha’s tongue swallows the moans tumbling past Steve’s lips. Hands gripping his waist tighter.

The sun bursts behind their eyes. Blood rushing and hearts bumping to twice their regular speed. For different people, people who aren’t Steve and Bucky, a first kiss after so long should probably be slow and tentative, something soft and building. But they aren’t different people. They are too broken and too powerful and undeniably deserving people who have had nothing to count on besides one another their entire conscious lives. To entertain even a second of not indulging in hard, fast, desperate supersedes unthinkable and settles somewhere over cruel.

“Never again, Stevie. I ain’t leaving you alone” another thrust, “Ever, “ another bruising kiss, “Again.”

Bucky’s cock strains against his uniform, desperate for Steve’s hole. Steve is a withering whimpering mess, drunk on Buckys scent and high on all the delicious friction causing his weeping cunt to flutter, uncomfortably empty.

After several more minutes of making out, Bucky moves them back to the bed, lying Steve out on the mattress. He only has a fraction of a second to admire the work of art that is Steve Rogers sprawled out and waiting to be fucked when Steve’s hands are at his neck, pulling him back in.

His lips move against the alpha’s sloppily, sucking on his bottom lip until the ex-assassin growls impatiently, searching for his mate’s tongue. His mate…

His mate. Steve thinks he may cry as the sheer relief almost painfully washes over him. All of the uncertainty and shame of being unwanted melts away, and all that surrounds him is the vibrating want, mine, love, love, love from the man above him, trailing scorching hot kisses down his neck.

“I wanna be ‘side you, baby. Please, Steve. Let me, ugh, please, babydoll. Can I-”

“Yes!” steve interrupts, “Yes, Alpha, you never have to ask! I’ll do whatever you ask, oh just touch me, Bucky, alpha, my alpha, touch me-”

“Shh, “ Bucky chuckles, stopping the omega’s rambling. He runs his flesh hand through disheveled blonde hair, dragging his nails through Steve’s scalp and marveling at the hiss the omega releases, “I’ve got you, Stevie. All I needed was a lil consent, then all bets are off, aren’t they? ‘Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, baby?”

“Always have been, jerk. I never stopped.”

“Good. Now, stop touching me.”

With a whimper, Steve can’t stop his hands from frantically clawing every inch of Bucky he can access.

“Now, babydoll, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

Still clutching one hand around Bucky's thick, muscular biceps, the other pulling at the strands of dark brown hair helplessly, “I can be good,” the omega babbles, “I’ll be good, Alpha. So good, I can be good, so so good. Please-”

“ Then listen to what I am telling you. I won’t repeat myself again, Steve. It’s my turn now. I wanna get my mouth on you, and I can’t do that if you keep pullin’ me back up to kiss. So stop touching.”

The moan that stutters past Steve’s lips would be embarrassing if not for how fucking fantastic it feels for Bucky’s alpha command to slam into him. Paralyzing him in place. Hands falling unceremoniously at his sides.

Crystal blues brimming with tears, he feels safe for the first time since coming out of the ice- he feels familiar. Not somewhere foreign with no understanding of anything besides, fight this, kill that. This is different. This is them. This is intimacy- their intimacy.

There’s trust swimming within the negative spaces Bucky extends, and he knows, to his core, he can let go. Steve surrenders all his false smiles and exhausting positivity. This is home. Bucky is home. He doesn’t have to put up a front because his alpha has it handled.

Steve isn’t Captain America or some beacon of hope. He’s just Steve, Stevie. Bucky's Omega.

He’s unsure how much time passes or where it went, to begin with, but his body sinks deeper into his mattress, feeling entirely boneless.

“You okay, baby?” Bucky’s husky voice breaks through the fog, “I lost you for a second there.”

Steve feels himself come back, callused hands running through damp blonde hair.

“Mmm,” he hums.

“You spaced a little, Stevie. You’re so beautiful when you get all soft for me. But you’re back now, aren’t you? Look at you. So perfect. Pretty, perfect omega-mine. Kept your hands at your side the whole time too. Such a good boy. You’re gonna keep your hands right where they are, Stevie. Don’t you move a fucking inch. I’m going to lick you open now, babydoll. And you’re gonna come on my tongue as many times as I want you to. Because I’ve gone 70 years without you, and I’m goddamned starved” Bucky’s voice goes from soft praise to near feral growls. His voice sending nothing but jolts of electricity down Steve’s spine, another wave of slick slipping down his thighs.

Before the ‘please’ has the opportunity to touch Steve's mouth, Bucky's hot, slick tongue finds his pulse point, just mere inches from his mating gland.

“Bucky!”

“I want this off!”, The ex-assassin grunts, in one swift move yanking the crisp white shirt from Steve's chest.

“Oh!”

Bucky backs up to lean on his knees, eyes tracking over pinkening skin. Steve’s own gaze glides over now exposed skin. Steve tries to finger out when he removed his clothes but falls short.

After so long without Buckys tenderly harsh commands, falling into space came a little easier than he would have thought. Overwhelmed by the unanticipated satisfaction.

“Open your eyes.”

When had Steve closed his eyes again?

“There you are, dolly. Keep those pretty eyes on me, okay? Always on me, baby.”

Rough, mouthwateringly calloused hands find the waistband of Steve’s pants and yank down in one fluid motion.

The blonde hisses for a moment at the sudden cold air biting his skin, but it only lasts a moment before he’s screaming.

“Fuck!” Steve throws his head back in favor of making sounds even a prostitute would blush at.

One moment Bucky’s on his knees, eyes predatory and sinful, calculating all the things he could do to the man shivering beneath his gaze, the next finds him throat deep, swallowing down Steve’s sweet omega cock, slurping up his precum and getting high off the scent of slick so close to his nose.

Steve can’t breathe.

God! It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s too good!

Steve can feel the familiar pull of an orgasm tugging inside of him. The corners of his closed vision whitening out around the black, lacking the energy to even feel embarrassed by how quickly he’s reached his pinnacle.

Pulling off agonizingly slow, Bucky lets his tongue harshly lick along Steve’s little shaft and twirl over his tip, remembering- fucking remembering! All the sounds and glazed looks elicited from the man below him in the past.

Grey eyes flick up hungrily, ravenous for a look into perfect crystal eyes; he can remember the glazed debauched expression that could devour Steve’s pupils, but it’s not enough!

He wants the real thing.

He wants something tangible and alive in his hands he can never again confuse with desire. Something he’s sure happened, a gift Steve is willingly offering instead of a snarled half-memory he can’t allow himself to believe.

“I-ugh! I’m gonna-“Steve stutters, toes curling and knees bending, framing Bucky's face between his thighs. His hands twitch beside him, but he doesn’t dare move them.

“Oh!”

It should have been a cry of ecstasy.

Should have been the Yellow River Flood; relentless and relieving. No survivors.

Instead, Steve is left with his chest heaving violently. Gasping for air just as he did when he was small.

The omega hears Bucky tutting before he manages to pry his eyes open. Immediately recognizing his mistake before the words fall from cum slick lips.

“Oh, baby. You were doing so good.”

“Nno! Buck, please!”

“Shhh, What did I say, dolly?” Bucky replaces his mouth with one strong hand, lazily jerking at Steve’s straining cock.

He’s smirking when Steve hisses beneath him and hums in approval when his hands stay at his sides.

“F-Faster! Please, Buck! Goddamn it, stop teasing’ me.”

“What did I say, Stevie?” Bucky repeats sharply. His movements slowing further.

Steve’s omega cries.

“You wanna cum, baby doll? “

“Yes!”

“Then what do you have to do?“

Steve’s mind has gone to mush. He thrusts his hips up, chasing after Bucky's friction. Hands struggling against the bedsheets.

“Still, omega!”

Bucky's voice is rough as sandpaper, sounding as on edge as Steve feels. A firm metal hand presses into the omega’s hip holding him in place.

“Be good, Stevie.” The alpha asserts firmly, scent growing muskier with every heavenly noise gasped and groaned from Steve’s sinful lips.

“If you wanna cum, what is it you have to do?”

Bucky rubs a metal thumb soothingly over a sinfully sharp hip bone before trailing his fingers over Steve’s quivering thigh.

Grey eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, “Fuck, baby, you’re so soft. C’mon, don’t you want me to touch you?”

“Yes! Please, fuckin touch me, you jerk!”

Chuckling darkly to himself, Bucky watches Steve with bated breath, and all at once, he feels like his mind had never left. Like an addict, he was never over his addiction; he just forgot how good it was. And like the degenerate addict he apparently was, he sucks in deep breaths, sucking in as much of Steve’s aroused scent that his lungs can handle.

All it took was one hit of Steve- his omega- and he had fallen into himself, more of who he was than any memory had offered.

Steve is his clarity and his habit. The one thing that will always bring him back because Steve is home.

And he’s gonna make him feel good. He’s gonna make up for all he put his omega through, and he’s gonna enjoy every second of it.

Every moan, every shiver, every cry. He’s gonna hold him and bruise him because Steve is his, and that’s how the omega likes it. Bucky’s omega. Bucky's Sweetheart. Bucky’s mate.

The ex-assassin lets his fingers trail lower, his other hand still just barely moving over Steve’s pulsing cock.

The first touch of cool metal meeting Steve’s hole causes the blonde to nearly jump off the bed.

“Buck!”

Steve thinks he’s gonna die.

He feels every cell in his body vibrating with a hot, hopeless sensation. Slick pours out of him the second Bucky’s teasing, perfect, godforsaken pinky circles Steve’s core. His lungs and eyes are burning, nearly out of breath, and only capable of volunteering a broken sob when that fucking pinky just barely pushes in.

“Please,” he whispers jaggedly.

He’ll be good for bucky. He’ll keep his hands at his side. He’ll do what he says even without the command, the fogginess of his brain settling deep enough that any request will register as a command anyway.

That’s just how Steve is wired.

Designed to submit to Buck’s direction.

He knows what Bucky wants, but to physically pry his eyes open at that moment was easier said than done. He struggled to determine whether or not he’s trying to starve off a quickly approaching orgasm or trying to chase one.

Whatever the answer, Bucky doesn’t let him reach it.

The alpha’s dark, whiskey voice sounds as wrecked as Steve feels.

“What. Do. I. Want?” Bucky growls impatiently. Another wave of slick dribbles from the omega wetting the sheets beneath them.

Think, steve! Give alpha what he wants! You can be good. I can be good…. What does he want again?

“My…ugh! M-My eyes.”

Finally, fucking finally, Bucky pushes a finger into Steve’s hole. Fast and absolutely delicious.

Just when he thought Bucky would stop playing games, he realizes the ringing in his ears is replaced by the alpha tutting above him.

“Very close, baby, but not quite.”, Buckys finger starts to draw out slowly; what little fullness Steve has is threatened, and the distressed mewl Steve makes in protest causes the alpha to chuckle darkly.

“P-pretty! Keep my pretty eyes on you! Only on you!” his eyes snap open frenzied, finding a swirl of grey and red zeroed in on him.

In a millisecond, Steve has two metal fingers thrusting into his hole. His back arches on the mattress, fingers nearly numb as they grip the sheets tighter, but his eyes don’t close again.

“That’s right, baby. Only on me.”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Fuck! You’re so tight, Stevie.”, Bucky groans, lowering himself as to mouth along Steve’s jaw, nipping his skin between tentative licks.

“Pl-Ease! Oh, yes... Please, Buck.”

“Please what, Stevie? Use your words.”

Steve’s mind is a simple stream of 3 thoughts, Touch me. Fuck me. Love me!; all of which he can only vocalize as, “Oh please, please. Bucky!”

Working a third finger along with the other two, Bucky hisses with Steve at the stretch his hole gives.

So fucking tight, the alpha thinks to himself, I don’t know how I’ll survive it, but I’m gonna fuck this omega so gooood.

“Words, Steve. Or I’ll start thinking you don’t want me t’touch ya at’all. Huh, maybe I should stop...”

“No! God, Buck, don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”

“Then tell me what you want. What a’you begging for, Doll?” Bucky trails the tips of his fingers over Steve’s ribs, rounding at his back, “is it my fingers? Sliding through all your slick? Or is it my mouth?”

“Yes!”

Bucky chuckles,” That’s not really an answer, Stevie.” His voice gets darker each time he says the omegas name like he knows. Actually, the bastard does know! He knows exactly what he’s doing.

The prospect of teasing seems to pull him just the tiniest bit to the side of coherent, a snarky remark falling from his lips as easily as the desperate pleas had moments before.

“You havin’ fun, Buck?” Steve pants, “Seems like you’re having a little too much fun.”

“Aw no, baby. I’m having the exact right amount of fun. Aren’t we?”

“ ‘We’ are a lotta peop-le!! Oh shit!” pushing his fingers in deeper, Bucky just brushes against Steve’s prostate. A sinister and smug smile curling his lips upward.

“Words, Stevie. Tell me what you want. And I’ll give it to you, omegamine. Just tell me.”

Steve’s chest flushes more as the words tingle on his tongue. Bucky's nearly feral tone betrays his suave and calm demeanor.

He’s just as desperate to be buried deep in Steve’s hole as Steve is to have him there.

Bucky’s fingers push more firmly against Steve’s prostate, and the omega nearly sees stars.

“Sing for me” Almost like an echo, Steve hears Buckys words like gospel.

It’s a command he’s most familiar with. He knows just what ‘ song’ Bucky wants ….

“Daddy!” Steve hisses around a fourth finger. The words punching out of him before he could stop them.

“ I wondered if that was just fantasy,” the alpha mumbles. Eyes darkening a rich crimson. An ever-present growl rumbling in his chest.

Bucky leans over, letting his fingers get even deeper, dragging against Steve’s special spot with every new thrust. With red eyes and diminishing control, the alpha drinks in every pant and whine that drips past kiss-bruised lips and bouncing off the walls of Steve’s room.

Bucky drops his nose into Steve’s scent gland, swiping his tongue over the swelling tissue for a better taste.

“You smell so fucking good, baby. Like mate.”

“Buck…” Steve gasps, feeling overwhelmed. Any moans he could possibly wish to suppress are yanked from his chest with every move the alpha makes. Sounds too rowdy even for porn echoing in his small dark room.

Bucky can’t get enough of it, stuttering an accidental thrust into Steve’s hip when the omega whines in a delightfully sweet way, the scent of slick and alluring sounds steve makes nearly choking him.

Fuck, I hope Tony has these rooms soundproofed. Steve uses his last brain cell to think.

Bucky's metal fingers continue to work him open, preparing him for his big alpha cock fast and rough and exactly how he likes it, but his other hand still moves sluggishly over Steve’s, slowly purpling prick. Tightening and stopping entirely every so often as to starve off Steve’s orgasm.

“Bucky, please!”

Fuck, Bucky thinks, I hope everybody can hear him, fuckin; hear us,

The blonde knows all he has to do is tell Bucky ‘Fuck me’ maybe add on ‘Daddy’ to further wreck him like it did back in the days if he even still likes that. But as much as Steve likes Bucky telling him what to do, he loves to defy him into aggression, twice as much.

“Say it again,” Bucky mumbles against the omegas scent gland, unable to move a millimeter.

The laugh that tumbles past Steve’s lips is quickly swallowed by Buckys tongue shoved down his throat. Pearly white teeth pulling back only to stress a bite on his bottom lip, not stopping until a faint taste of metal joins the deliriously delicious taste of Buckys omega.

“Again, omega. Say it again.”

With another brush against his prostate, Stev’s vision begins to blur, but he won’t close his eyes, no matter how much he wants them to,

“Alpha!”

Steve is a debauched disaster. A puddle of liquid fire and Bucky wanted to fucking burn.

“You know that’s not what I want to hear, babydoll. But I’m feeling generous, so let’s make a deal, yeah? You say what I want, and I’ll tell my precious boy how good he is. How good you feel around my fingers swallowin’ my fingers so fuckin’ good. And I’ll say your name as much as you want. That’s what you were beggin’ for, wasn’t it?” Bucky rambles, fingers pumping quicker into Steve, hand starving off the omegas dick, tugging over the length with dangerous precision.

“You want me to say your name, dontcha dolly? Tell you you’re being good. Everything Daddy needs. My good, beautiful Stevie.”

Buckys cock presses into the mattress, the slightest friction sending magic to tingle over his skin. His knot calls out for Steve’s sopping wet pussy, fluttering around his fingers. The sensation alone is a mutual torture all on its own.

It would be so fucking easy to slide home into Steve’s awaiting heat. So fucking easy!

Not yet, he reminds himself.

No, he wants something first, and he’s gonna get it.

Outside of the bedroom, the thought of ever using his alpha tone with Steve is unthinkable. There isn’t a scenario out there that could justify taking away his omegas free will.

But here-like this. Sweaty and drooling and filthy, reeking of mate and sex, the tone combines with his voice as if that’s the only way there is to speak.

“Say it again, Steve. Now!”

“Daddy! Daddy, fuck me! Please,pleasepleaseplease”

Gently, the alpha removed his fingers. Steve’s mouth opens to cry, but before he can focus too much on the dreadful emptiness, Bucly is buried to the hilt in Steve’s ass.

“Ah!” Steve shouts, throwing his head back and moving his hands to grip at Bucky’s shoulders for the first time since being told not to move them an inch.

He quickly realizes his mistake, and in a fearful attempt to keep Bucky inside of him, confident he wouldn’t survive another moment of his teasing, his alpha’s voice rumbles past the panic.

“Touch me. Wherever you want, Stevie.”

The sigh of relief is an afterthought, long nimble finger trail over both metal and flesh shoulders, a satisfying wave pushing into the realm of too damn good. Being allowed to touch after being denied was always such an experience. Reverse touch starved. Bucky has the go-ahead to do with him as he wishes. Meanwhile, every instinct within the omega seeks Bucky out. His skin, his mouth, his scent. He wants to feel his alpha under his fingers as much as he wants to bounce on Buckys, but he can’t. He has to lay there and fight against the urge to suck hickeys onto every surface of skin he can find.

Pulling on stands of dark chestnut-colored hair, Steve tries to adjust to the girth inside of him.

“Move.”, the omega whispers harshly after a few moments.

Bucky doesn’t need much prompting; he knows Steve can take it, and more than that, any remaining sting that prepping might have missed, Steve fucking aches for.

“As you wish.”

It’s like a dam break. A flood, unforgiving, and exactly what they each fuckin need!

Bucky's shallow, calculated thrusts soon quicken, taking on a brutal pace.

He slams his cock home and grinds deep before pulling nearly entirely out and slamming back in. Again and again and again. Returning quicker every time he finds himself back inside Steve’s velvet-soft heat.

Words are lost on the omega, choosing to indulge rather on feral groans and guttural whines, meeting every thrust and dragging sharp nails across Bucky's shoulders.

It’s all so much. Like a storm, heavy and pounding in their ears. And it all makes so much sense.

They’re a natural disaster. Bucky kisses like a hurricane, all lips, tongue, and teeth. Steve moves and squeezes his walls around Bucky's cock, no rhyme or reason to his actions, just passion, just I have to have this.

Kisses pouring down upon kisses like rain, soaking them in love, and Steve nearly cries.

He never thought he’d have this again.

The ex-assassin is a bit more vocal.

He can feel his release creeping up, desire warm and urgent low in his belly. But cumming before Steve is absolutely not an option. Half the fun was watching the poster child for purity throw his head back in ecstasy, beggin for ruin with Buckys name on his lips. And he’d be damned if he's gonna miss it in the cloud of his own pleasure.

“D-Deeper!” Steve whimpers, pulling Bucky closer by the nape of his neck.

The hand that had been knotted in Steve’s own hair follows suit of the palm firmly placed over one sharp hip bone.

Gripping him with enough pressure to bruise, Bucky bends over Steve’s lithe build and takes hold of one muscular thigh, nearly folding the blonde in half as he settles Steve’s leg over his flesh shoulder.

“Fuck!” Steve cries, Bucky's cock sliding that much deeper, hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust.

Bucky groans at the new position, one large hand kneading and pulling at Steve's ass, tugging him back with the snap of his hips. His other hand runs over the omegas sweaty, slick body, sliding a finger over a single hard nipple before securing his fingers around Steve’s neck. Palm pushing into his scent gland.

It is a little more than light pressure, but it gives its desired effect; Steve’s eyes go from unfocused and glassy to piercing. More black than blue, pupils blown, but Bucky still catches the glint of gold mingling about, exactly what he’d been waiting for.

There you are, omegamine, he thinks.

“Ugh, yes, fuck! You like that, don’t you. Like me pushing you down. Like me pounding into your sweet pussy. But it’s not really yours is it, baby?”

“Gnnn”

“Answer me. Who’s pussy is this, Steve?”

“Y-yours, Daddy. I’m yours.”

“Mine.” The alpha growls, yet another wave of slick passing Steve’s thighs. “My omega. My good boy. Listened so good, doll.”

“Fuck, Buck. Alpha, my alpha. I missed you, I missed you so fuking much. I missed your big alpha cock. So good to me. I wanna be good, Daddy. Tell me how to be good.”

“You wanna be good?”

“Yes!”

“You’re already so good for me. Perfect omega. Pretty, perfect thing.”

“I can be-ugh yes!! I can...nnnn….be better.” The omega stutters between kisses, “Wanna be the best boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Please, Alpha. Knot me!”

“Okay, baby. Listen closely, hmm?”

“Keep still.” In two mostly smooth movements, Bucky is lying on his back, Steve’s lean frame now straddling the alpha, lifting him by the waist; Bucky sinks Steve further on his cock.

“Ride me.”

As if without his permission, Steve’s moving above the bigger man.

Thick thighs feel even wider between Steve’s slightly smaller ones. Bucky’s hands come to Steve’s waist, helping him grind down harder, deeper.

Steve can’t keep his gaze from trailing down to where they’re connected. His hole swallowing 6 to 7 inches of monster alpha cock, and he could just cry for how hot it is to see them connected like this.

I wanna be locked to you. I want your knot!

“Eyes, Stevie!” Bucky snarls with another hash snap of his hips, impaling Steve further and hitting his prostate. The omega falls over, making sure to lock blue with grey.

Abandoning their vice grip on the alphas thighs, Steve steadies himself with one hand over his lover's heart, fingertips brushing the mating gland by his neck as the other grips the headboard above the bed, wood splintering under every shock of pleasure jolting through Steve in response to each of Bucky's strident thrusts.

“Oh, oh! D-Daddy. I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!”

“Now that I’ve got you back, we won’t be leaving this room for much, Stevie. I want you on your knees sucking my big alpha cock. Licking up the evidence of what you do to me. I’ll hold you by your neck and force-feed it to you just like you like it.”

“B-Buck-eyy!”

“Yeah, baby, say my name. You’re beautiful. Angelic. A work of. Fucking. Art.” He punctuates his words with a sharp jerking of Steve’s body above him. Pulling his center as close as he can get him, knot swelling mercilessly and snagging on Steve’s rim.

Steve feels pleasure like he’s never felt before. Words slurred and hardly coherent,

“‘Wan’ yur k’nnot!”

He sounds drunk.

Bucky loves it!

“Not until you cum, baby doll. You first, then Daddy. Good boys get their rewards, and this is-” using Steve as a ragdoll, Bucky manhandles him into circular motions, twisting and penetrating the omegas sweet spot with wild precision.

One hand (Steve couldn’t even tell you which, mind too fuzzy and too loaded with his quickly approaching orgasm) presses into the omegas gorgeous tits before sweeping down to tug on Steve’s crying cock, pre-cum dribbling from its bright red head.

Steve cums with a shout, back arching and eyes struggling to stay open, finally shut. His vision whites out with pleasure, but he can’t bring himself to remember anything outside of this bliss. No world lived outside of these walls. Just him, his alpha, and all the pleasure Bucky brings him.

“Ohhh, Allphaa,”

“Yours. Yes! Oh, you feel- God so fucking tight, Stevie. Look ‘atchyou. Milking my cock, pussy squeezing my knot, beggin for it. Daddy’s gonna give it to you.”

“Gimme,” he whispers weakly.

He doesn’t feel Bucky flip him over or the hands pushing both his legs over Bucky’s shoulders, but the moment Bucky starts pumping in and out again, his body jolts awake, and all Steve wants is to make his alpha cum.

“Daddy’s gonna cum right inside your tight, perfect pussy. Yeah, Stevie. ugh!”

“Wan’ be...hmm.”, he tries to form words, but they die on his tongue, not coming down fast enough to entertain even a murmur of conversation.

Another 30 seconds passing before he has enough brain cells to return his gaze to stormy grey.

As always, Bucky’s eyes are already on him.

“That's all you got, Daddy?” The blonde snarks between pants, another orgasm building in his belly, toes curling, and his half-soft prick smushed and pulsating against Bucky's abs.

Bucky laughs around a moan, pulling Steve into another kiss before giving one, two, three more thrusts, shouting out a string of praise as his knot pops inside of his omega.

Steve’s heavy punched out sigh joins the shuddered fluttering of his hole, another wave of release escaping him.

The room fills with pants and sloppy kisses. Each man nosing along their scent glands, finding where a bond mark would go and lapping over it lovingly.

In the 40s, hiding their love was a matter of survival, and a surrender of their need to properly mate. They didn’t have to hide here. They could love each other and bite each other someday. Unified in the one way they spent most of their lives thinking they’d never have.

They Lie there, tied together even after Bucky’s knot goes down. Thoughts of taking that step-marking each other, on the tip of both of their tongues.

They lie there, bathing in the calm after the storm.

Sometime afterward:

After another round and many minutes of lazily making out, the pair rest beside each other, touching the other man wherever he could reach, tracing nonsense patterns into heated flesh and feeling happier than either had in 70 years.

“What were you sayin’, y’know before we… Y’know”, Steve blushes as if he wasn’t just face down ass up drooling over Tony’s Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Before you started crying for my knot, and I fucked you 6 ways from Sunday?”

“You’re a fucking jerk!”

“Nah, I’m just fucking a jerk.”, The alpha smiles, joy like nothing he’s been able to remember trips over his heart.

“I’m serious, Buck. Before we...did it”

“Ha!”

A sharp smack falls onto Buckys bare chest, “Fine! Before you came like a geyser up my ass-”

“Steve!” Bucky barks a laugh, loving the pink blush dusting over Steve’s cheeks despite the faux aggravation he was attempting to express.

“Will ya quit interrupting me? You fucking alphas are so rude!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Stevie. What were you saying?” Bucky concedes, the shit-eating grin doing nothing for the butterflies swarming the omega’s insides.

“You were saying that you couldn’t decipher real from what’s fake?”

Sighing, Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, not stopping, when the omega turns onto his stomach, exposing his back and facing the brunette. Bucky smiles down at the omega letting his hand slide down to his spine, tracing the smooth pale skin with the tip of his finger.

It’s freeing, liberating even, to let his hands and eyes roam wherever they want. After so many years of separation, then being reunited only to build unnecessary obstacles designed for the sole purpose of self-sabotaging, somehow they’ve found themselves again in the other man’s arms.

Bucky bends down to press a gentle kiss on Steve’s shoulder, loving the way the omega shivers beneath his lips.

I could just eat him alive…

“Buuuuck,” Steve shakes his head, smiling at the alpha underneath long lashes.

“Sorry, baby, you just look so sexy.”

“Oh, do I? Maybe it has a little to do with all the naked skin?”

Smiling goofily, Bucky allows his voice to get al sweet, “C’mere, smartass.”

Bucky pulls a yelping Steve into his lap, effectively laying the slender omega over his broad alpha chest.

The feeling is exhilarating. Bucky feels his stomach swoop and heart skip a beat, feeling more accomplished in this solitary moment entangled with Steve than in months of SHIELD work.

Steve grins despite himself. Settling against Bucky's chest, folding his hands in front of him and resting his chin onto his knuckles. Suddenly thrilled by the position.

He can stare into Bucky's eyes forever, and he has a sneaking suspicion the alpha won’t protest.

Cold metal fingers trail down Steve’s spine, eliciting a gentle quiver from the blonde man, shamelessly beaming beneath the attention.

“I remember how scared I would get in the winter.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion, lying his head down onto his forearms and urging the larger man with his eyes to continue.

“I love that I can make you shiver now. But I think it would’ve just about wrecked me with worry back then.”

Bucky's flesh hand curls across Steve’s exposed waist, letting his heat seal into his fingers. His eyes close in relief. Like he’s remembered something… or rather; reminded himself of something.

“ I remember the worry best. The sleepless nights and evenings spent bent over pews, praying no one could hear your name falling from my lips because then they’d know… Know how much I wanted you. Wanted you to live. Wanted you to love me. Wanted you to be my omega. I remember going to work at the docks and feeling the bike rise in my throat as we talked about chasing tail when all that I fucking wanted was to make it through my shift and run my way home to you.”

Steve smiles fondly at Bucky. His head remains rested in the crook of his right elbow but reaches forward with his left to trail patterns on Bucky’s scent gland. Trailing back from his neck to his cheek, he will never understand how helpful he is just by existing.

“ I remember wanting you. I know there has never been a moment in which I existed, and I didn’t love you, even under hydra. Even when they told me- made me go after you. They had to wipe me twice before I stopped fighting… I should’ve kept fighting.”

“Buck-“ Steve’s tone is soft and reprimanding in the way only Steve Rogers could manage, but it’s not enough. The tears build behind grey and crimson. Shame burning him from the inside.

Bucky shakes his head, trying to shake away Steve’s tender touch.

Leaning forward, Steve ignores the alphas dismissal, warm petal-soft lips find Buckys, and he presses his weight deeper into his alpha.

“I’m here. With you. You stopped, Buck. You never, not for a second, stopped fighting! That wasn’t you.” Steve’s tone was loving and firm in the way only Steve Rogers could ever manage- or could ever feel for Bucky Barnes.

Bucky's eyes find crystal blue, and for a moment, he’s thrust back into his mind, his heart thrashing and growling, crying Not him! Not Steve. Stop! God damn it! You’re hurting him! We can’t hurt him!

For a moment, Steve’s sweet pink cheeks are bruised and bleeding, split by Russian metal and the free will Bucky was robbed of.

“Bucky!” Steve whispers harshly, just on the edge of frantic, “ C’mon, alpha. Don’t leave me alone again.”

“I’m here.”, Bucky chokes out, “ I’m here, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

They hold each other for, neither of them speaking. Foreheads pressed together between grabby hands pushing firmly against heated flesh.

A reminder…

I’m alive. You’re okay. We’re together.

“ I remember those things; that panic of possibly losing you, very easily,” Bucky continues, “ And then… it started as flashes. Split seconds. But god, did I chase after them. It would be something minimal at first. You lying down on the bed or smiling at me over a sketchbook. But then they changed, and your head was thrown back, and the things you were drawing were us-naked. And I started hating myself because my fucking crush on you was filtering in on my memories of you, and it wasn’t fair. It felt real, but I knew it wasn’t or-“

“But they are real, Buck. We’ve always been us. This way! Laws be damned! We loved each other, and no one was gonna tell us we couldn’t have that!”

“It didn’t matter, though,” Bucky adds.

Steve shoots up off his chest, kneeling on the mattress, and as naked as the day he was born. More hurt than he thought he could ever be in his alphas arms, “ Of course it did. How could you say that? Wha-”

Bucky sits up quickly, reaching out, but Steve swiftly evades him, feeling colder than Brooklyn in February.

“Steve-“

“No! How could you say that? It matters! We matter. You matter. I fucking matter, Bucky! I lost you. You died! You fell off that train, and my alpha died!” he cries,

“I flew that plane into the ocean not because Captain America’s nobility prevails, I did it because l was grieving and life wasn’t worth living without you.”

“Steve-“

“No! Shut. Up.” Steve growls, but it sounds more like a whine.

“I died too, Buck. And woke up to a life I didn’t want either. Not just like you. I know what you went through was unthinkably cruel. But living without you was a prison sentence. And I had no choice but to wear red, white, and blue in place of orange and serve out my life miserably and without you. And that mattered.”

“I know, Stevie, I know. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby.”

“Then how else did you mean it?”

“There were things that I saw or remembered-whatever! But neither matter because fantasy is something that can never happen, and if it’s a memory, it will never happen again.”

Steve can feel his heart breaking in his chest. Angry and more than a little offended, he can practically feel the anguish emanating from his alpha’s skin.

“Because you wouldn’t want the blood-soaked into my hands to touch you. To touch your pretty perfect body, so I say your name, and I can’t stop because my alpha is always just before feral, and you are the only thing keeping Me on the side of sane. I know you matter. You’re the only thing on this entire fucked up bullshit infested planet that matters!”

“But the thought of losing you based on things I simply wanted and not what you needed from me? It didn’t matter- nothing mattered beyond you. I thought you wanted Bucky Barnes, the closeted best friend. I couldn’t trust myself to believe you wanted me in the 40s, and I couldn’t hope that if you had, you’d want me still.”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve sighs, eyes misting, but he lets himself be drawn in by strong, vulnerable arms.

“...I think I understand what you mean, though.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to say I miss you ao many times. But then I just...couldn’t. I thought it wouldn’t change anything, so I just kept pretending I didn’t. But then there are days when I wake up, and the fact that it’s without you won’t let me pretend anymore.”

“Now, who’s the idiot?” Bucky chuckles, brushing strands of hair from those hypnotizing blue eyes.

Bucky lets the Sympathy, understanding pool from his scent and settle over Steve like a warm blanket.

Smiling, Steve takes the comfort from his alpha in stride, “Of course, I talk like an idiot, Buck. How else are you ‘posed to understand me?”

Huffing a quick laugh, the ex-assassin feels all the love for this omega shine in a smile, “You’re such a fuckin’ punk, y’know that little omega?”

“ I’m your fuckin’ Punk, and besides, I’m not so little anymore.”

Whatever faithless semblance of decency they had left swiftly deteriorates as Bucky fully settles Steve into his lap, lying back into the cushions and pulling the duvet over them both.

He presses a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead and whispers with as much meaning he can muster, “You’re perfect, omegamine. Fuckin’ perfect! Perfect for me, you hear?”

Steve releases a joyful giggle,” I hear. Are we going to sleep, Alpha?”

“Yep!”

Snuggling deeper into the alpha’s chest, Steve feels content for the first time in what feels like forever, loving how perfectly he still fits in Bucky's arms, even all beefed up by the serum. Not a single gap between them.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?” Bucky asks happily. Certainly hearing and feeling Steve’s pleased purring.

“ I’m warm,” The omega mumbles, exhaustion barreling into him.

“Good. Sleep, Stevie. We'll talk more in the morning.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just nuzzles into his alpha more until his nose is close enough to the source of the brunette’s scent, humming satisfaction as he sniffs pleasantly.

“I never thought I’d get to have this. That you’d be in my arms like this. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life just pining after you-loving you. I love you, omegamine. I love you so much.”

Steve replies in soft snores, but Bucky doesn’t care. He presses a kiss to the top of ruffled blonde hair and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

He doesn't mind that Steve fell asleep because nothing else matters besides his blue-eyed beauty. Not when he has this. Not when Steve is soft and asleep and warm. He has the rest of his life to tell his omega he loves him.

One thing is for sure.

Bucky will never stop saying Steve’s name.

131 notes · View notes

allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

Text

Fine Line

Summary: There’s a fine line between love and hate and you’re not too sure which side you’re on with Harry anymore. Part Two to What Kind of Man

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: I said this in the first part & will repeat it. This is purely fictional. This in no way reflects how I feel Harry would handle this situation in reality. I’m really using Harry as a character. DO NOT READ THIS if you feel the situation of cheating and staying together will impact you strongly or offend you. That is not what I want when reading my story.

Notes: I urge those uncomfortable with cheating to avoid this. I also urge those who dislike this kind of writing to avoid. I came up with this story at a point in my life where my parents were divorcing, I was going through a break up and was lost. I’ve decided to finish this story because I put so much effort into it for it to end unfinished feels wrong. I can’t speak for anybody and how they would handle this situation.

Thank you for 1000 followers. That is crazy!

You’ve got my devotion.

But man, I can hate you sometimes.

...

You sunshine, you temptress.

My hands at risk I fold.

April.

The first two sessions had gone by in relative silence. You weren’t sure what to say to answer the therapists questions. You weren’t sure you even wanted to talk at all.

“Y/N.” You look up startled out of your thoughts. “Do you feel like talking today?” Her eyes are kind and understanding. Her degrees hang behind her head and you zone in on them. Dr. Walsh had been the only therapist who could take you on in April. Any others that you called had informed you their next opening for new patients wasn’t until the end of May.

You supposed it could have been worse. So far, Dr. Walsh had come across as kind and understanding of your hesitance. She had never forced you to talk and had only tried to get you involved on your own accord.

“What would we talk about?” You ask instead of ignoring in silence like you had the past two sessions. You can see Harry turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you remained focused on the two degrees hanging behind Dr. Walsh’s head.

UCLA. “What year did you graduate?” You ask before she can answer your original question. “From UCLA.”

“We can talk about whatever you want. How you two met. Your kids.” You raise an eyebrow and she smiles. “1996.”

“I thought we were supposed to talk about our issues. Why would we talk about our kids or how we met?” You answer her question. You can tell Harry’s eyes are moving back and forth between the two of you, like he’s unsure if he should get involved in the conversation.

Dr. Walsh shakes her head. “Sometimes the best place to start is with what makes you two happy. You’re here to work on your relationship, right?”

The two of you nod. “Then I’m not worried about starting with the most painful part of your relationship. I want to learn about it. If I can learn about your relationship then I have more knowledge on how to help you repair it, if that’s what you want.”

“Okay.” You agree. You feel some of your tenseness fade away. You were here for a reason. “We went to UCLA too.”

She nods. “You did? Were you studying the same thing? Is that how you two met?”

You look down at your fidgeting hands and let out a laugh. “Not quite. I was a creative writing major and Harry was political science. We met in a World History course our sophomore. It was a general requirement class.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Professor Ward.”

“Mind if I sit here?” You look up and your breath hitches. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Bright eyes and a sweet smile that could take anyone’s breath away.

You nod hastily. “Yeah. It’s all yours.” You move your notebook over so he has a bit more room on his half of the table.

“Thanks.” He drops his books on the table and flops down into the chair. “Harry.” He reaches a hand towards you and you meet him halfway.

You offer your name up easily and his smile brightens. “What brings you into a World history course?” He asks quietly as the last bit of students rush into the few seats left up front.

You smile. “Creative writing majors have to take one broad history course before focusing on any history of writing courses. Ward’s class was the only one with openings that didn’t start at eight.”

“Creative writing. That’s cool.” Harry’s spinning the pen in between his fingers. “You want to be a writer?”

You smile nervously and nod. “That’s the goal. What brings you to Ward’s World History?”

Harry laughs softly. “I’m a political science major, this is just a required gen ed.”

“Political science. What’s your plan with that? Am I sitting next to a future senator?” You give him a teasing smile.

“Lawyer.”

You shrug, “Senators have to start somewhere.” The professor comes in and that halts the conversation from going anywhere else. As Professor Ward goes over the syllabus you see a piece of paper slide across the table towards you. You look over at Harry, but he’s looking ahead with a smirk on his face.

You unfold the paper and there is a number written in messy handwriting taking up the small page.

“Bold.” You whisper to him and he shrugs. “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.” He whispers back.

“So you both liked each other right away?” You look up as you're dragged out of the memory of meeting Harry.

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I think so.”

“Definitely.” Harry agrees. “I’m lucky I was running late that day. The seat next to her was the only good seat left. Plus, she helped edit all my essays. I was a shit writer before her.”

You smile softly at the memory. “Y/N?” You look up and Dr. Walsh is watching you closely.

“That class sucked.” You can’t help but let out a laugh. “We had so many essays. He’s right, he was a shit writer before me.”

You finally spare a look over at Harry and he’s watching you with soft eyes. “That was our first semester of sophomore year. We were attached at the hip after that.” You look back down at your hands.

“Did you guys start dating right away?” She asks.

“Pretty much. We started dating right before winter break.” Harry answers for the both of you.

She nods as she eyes the clock on the wall. “Does that memory still make you happy?”

You nod. Your memories hadn’t been ruined. But that didn’t really mean anything when you could barely be in the same room as Harry now. “Of course. But… Things are different. We’re not twenty-somethings with no responsibility. We’re parents. Partners. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. And now it feels like we don’t.”

Harry looks over at Dr. Walsh as she studies you. She was obviously taking in your words and processing a response to them. “I think the biggest question you need to find the answer to is, do you want to fix this marriage?” She finally says looking pointedly at the distance between you two.

You pause and mull over her question. “Can we fix it?” You ask quietly.

She shrugs. “I can’t answer that for you. It’s my job to help you find the answer, not give it to you. What I can tell you is; Sometimes people walk out of this with a new appreciation and love. Sometimes people realize it can’t be fixed. Nothing is wrong with either, it’s just up to you two to figure out which one it is.”

You look over at Harry and find him watching you with hopeful eyes. You knew he wanted to and felt like you both could fix this.

But you weren’t sure. “I don’t know.”

The drive home is silent for the most part. Music playing softly from the radio as you stare out the passenger side window.

“I don’t know what to say.” Harry says as he pulls the car into the driveway. He puts it into park but doesn’t turn it off so the music is still playing as he turns to look at you.

Gemma’s car was parked behind your own. You see the curtain move slightly which is a telltale sign that a child was peeking out the window. It quickly falls back into place when your eye catches Serena’s.

You shake your head and look back down at your lap. “What is there to say?”

Harry shuts his eyes and you see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “I want to fix this. I’m trying. Do you want to fix this?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t try and guilt me, Harry. I didn’t cheat, you did. This… This mess isn’t my fault and it shouldn’t be my job to fix it.”

“I’m not trying to guilt-“ He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “That was a shitty thing to say. I know. I just want to know if we’re gonna make it through this. If you think we have a chance.”

You look over at him with watery eyes. “I don’t know. All I can think about is you fucking another woman while I was home with our kids. Telling them that you were just busy. That we would have dinner tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.”

Harry flinches like you’ve hit him. You turn away but don’t stop talking. “I know a month may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things. We’ve been together for seventeen years, so what’s a month?” You laugh humorlessly. “But how long have we been distant? How long have you been staying late and missing dinners?”

“I don’t know.” Harry whispers and you see him clench his eyes in an attempt to stop tears from falling.

“It’s been months, Harry.” You look around the yard. Your and Persephone’s plants needed maintenance. “We had Jack and then everything changed. We stopped date nights. Family game nights faded from existence. We stopped having sex. I… I don’t know what happened.”

Harry doesn’t say anything so you sigh. “I’m trying, Harry. It may not seem like it to you, but I’m trying.” You unbuckle yourself and move to get out of the car.

Harry reaches out and wraps his hand gently around your wrist. “I know.” He stresses the word. “I know you are.”

You nod and the two of you just watch each other for a moment. You break away from him first. “I’m sure the kids are peeking out the window. We’ve been out here long enough.”

The both of you climb out of the car silently. The door flies open by the time you reach the second step of your front porch.

“Mama!” Oliver comes flying out towards you. “Mama. Never leave us again. Baby Jack is crazy.” He grips you tight and you laugh, the tension immediately leaving your body as you hug him back.

Gemma comes to stand in the entrance with Jack on her hip. She gives you a weak smile and you smile back. “Come on, I’m sure Aunt Gem is dying to go home after watching you crazy lot for two hours.”

Gemma leaves quickly handing Jack off to Harry and giving you and Harry both kisses on the cheek. “Let me know about spring break, Y/N!” She calls as she rushes out your front door.

“Spring break?” Harry asks as he bounces Jack in his arms.

“We’ll talk about it later.” You say sparing a glance down to Oliver, who’s still attached to your leg. Harry nods before moving towards the living room. Oliver follows behind him and you’re left in the front hall alone.

You take a deep breath before following them.

Harry sleeps in the guest room. You can’t bring yourself to allow him back into the room you two shared.

His clothes remain in his half of the closet though and his toiletries had remained in place on the bathroom counter, so you saw him every night before going to sleep.

Dr. Walsh had suggested the two of you used this time to try and reconnect. “You don’t have to sleep in the same bed yet. It’s completely normal for you to need time apart, Y/N. But I do want you two to talk before bed every night, I know you have four kids and it may be your only true alone time to reconnect emotionally before you ever do anything physically, even just sleep.” She had offered at the end of your session after you had admitted you weren’t sure how you felt about Harry and your relationship now. “This is a good way to figure out if you can still see yourself together.”

You loved him. You didn’t need her to help you answer that question. He was the father of your children. You had over a decade of amazing times together. But you couldn’t look at him without your chest aching.

“What was Gemma talking about spring break?” Harry sits on the lounge chair you two had placed in the corner of your room. Jack’s bassinet used to be next to it, but he had recently moved into his own room.

You sit on the end of your bed with your arms crossed over your chest. “Olly has been asking if we could go to Disney World. I was talking to her about maybe surprising him and Serena for their birthday since it falls during the kids break this year.”

“That sounds really nice.” Harry smiles and you nod. “I’m sure the four of them would love it. I can put in for the week tomorrow. I have a bunch of paid time off I need to use up.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You want to go? We haven’t been on vacation since the beach trip before Jack was born.”

Harry’s face turns stoic. “Of course I want to go. I told you I was going to spend more time with guys.” He walks towards the dresser you have pushed against the wall. “Here, pull your laptop out, let's book this now so we can get a good room.”

You gape at him. It had only been an idea you were considering for the twins birthday. Although, it was coming up and you were running out of time to make a decision.

“Are you sure you can get the time off?” You ask instead of listening to his direction.

Harry nods resolutely. “Can I?” He points next to you and you nod. You lean over to your nightstand, where you had left the computer the night before while writing.

You push it open. “I’m gonna go get Persephone.” You stand up and hand the laptop to Harry. “She can help plan some stuff with us, so we know what these young kids want.” You give Harry a weak smile and he nods.

You shake your hands out as you make your way down the hall towards your eldest daughter’s room. You knock softly on the door, “Seph?”

“Come in.” She calls and you push the door open. She’s got her show paused and is curled into her comforter. “What’s up, mom?”

“Can you help your dad and I with something?” You ask hesitantly. “I know it’s late, it’ll be quick.”

Persephone gives you the same dimpled smile Harry has, “Of course. I was gonna be up binge watching this show anyways.” She unwraps herself from the blanket and grabs her phone before following you back to your bedroom.

“Hey, lovebug.” Harry gives her your favorite smile. One he’s somehow reserved solely for you children. Soft and bright while his eyes shine proudly.

“Hi, daddy.” She plops herself down next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her forehead and the smile that spreads across Persephone’s face is contagious.

You take a seat next to her, so she is squished in between the two of you. “You know how Olly has been asking about Disney?” You ask quietly. You and Harry had put the twins down an hour ago, but Oliver was known to sneak away from his room for a cuddle with you.

She nods instead of verbally answering and Harry pulls up the booking website. “Your mom had the great idea to surprise the twins for their birthday.”

“Really?” Seph asks excitedly. Your family trips usually consisted of beaches or visiting grandparents. The last time you had been to Disney was when it was just the three of you. You weren’t sure she could even remember most of the trip.

You bump her shoulder softly with an excited grin. “Really. Jack is old enough that he can get probably through a day there without screaming his head off. Aunt Gem said that she could come to help watch him so you three can have fun.”

“That sounds awesome!” She lifts her head from Harry’s shoulder and looks at you happily. “What did you need my help with?”

“Picking out where to stay. You guys are the focus of the trip so we want you to stay where you want to, not us.” You gently take the laptop from Harry and place it in her hands. “So tell us your top three and then dad and I will pick from there so you still get to enjoy some of the surprise aspect.”

She scrolls through the website for a few minutes while the three of you sit there quietly. You glance over at Harry hesitantly. He’s looking down at your daughter with bright eyes.

You quickly look away when his eyes move up to meet yours. “Okay. I added the three I liked the most to your favorites! Did you guys need anything else?”

You both shake your head. “Just keep this a secret. It’s going to be a surprise.” You smile excitedly at your eldest. She had grown so much, but seeing the childlike shine of excitement in her eyes brought you a bounty of joy. She was still your baby.

Persephone nods before handing the laptop back over to Harry. She presses a kiss to both your and his cheeks before hopping up and making her way towards your door.

You give her a confused smile when she pauses and turns back around to face you again. She takes in a nervous breath before speaking.

“It’s really good to be all together again.” The words are quiet and fearful. “Um. I love you guys. Goodnight.” She turns on her heel and bolts out the room and back down the hall.

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispers. His tone is similar to her’s. Quiet and full of fear. “I love you all. I know I hurt you, but you are all my world. Those kids are what I’m most proudest of.”

“I know.” You look over at his lap. His hands curled tightly around the laptop still open in his lap. “I never doubted how much they meant to you Harry. I know how much you love those kids.”

You want to reach out and pull his hand into yours. Something you usually did when Harry was scared or nervous. But you kept your hand firmly planted in your lap, unable to give him that forgiveness.

“I was never afraid of you not loving them. I was-“ You stop unsure of what to say. What were you afraid of? “I was afraid that I had given so much and you still wouldn’t have chosen me.”

Harry looks over at you with sad eyes and you let out a humorless laugh. “Harry, I’ve never regretted having Persephone so young. I’ve never regretted being home. But, I just want you to show that… that you appreciate me.”

“I do appreciate you.” Harry says quietly. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.” He places the laptop in the empty space in between you. You watch as he works through what to say, his tension clear in his eyes.

“But…” He trails off like he’s still unsure of what to say. “I’m here. I want to be here. I want to show you that I appreciate you.” Harry takes a deep breath and places a hesitant hand on your back. “As long as you’ll have me.”

You take a deep breath. “Let’s focus on this... I want the twins to have a great birthday and for Seph to have a great spring break. Things have been tough for them too. We can figure the other stuff out later.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just nods and pulls the laptop back towards him. You can tell he wants to though. That he wants to talk this out and get in deep.

You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

“A family vacation can be very cathartic for couples struggling.” Dr. Walsh gives the two of you a kind smile after you reveal what you had planned for your kids. “But, it can also bring about stress at being in such a small space for such a long time. Especially when you’re still struggling to communicate.”

“I’m really trying.” You say quietly, on edge at the idea of you and Harry bringing about any stress on a trip meant to be for your kids. “We both are. I think.”

“I know.” She gives you an understanding look. “You guys do your homework. You said it yourself, your nightly conversations aren’t painful anymore. But talking about small things is only the beginning of strengthening your communication.”

“So you want us to talk about the affair?” You ask. “The big thing.”

She shakes her head. “Eventually. Sweeping it under the rug or ignoring it can only cause more tension. But there are other things I’m sure you want to talk about as well.”

“Like what?” Harry asks. He glances over at you before looking back at Dr. Walsh.

“Anything either of you felt was an issue.” She explains. “Big or small. Anything you think contributed to your distance. Try to remember, you’re not placing blame.”

“Not even for the affair?” Harry sighs and you shut your eyes. “How can I not place blame? That’s not my fault.”

“No.” She agrees. “I’ve never agreed with placing blame for something like that on the victim. Do you want to start with talking about it?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not finding all these so-called small issues so we can then excuse the cheating. I won’t do that.” You say disdainfully.

“We don’t expect you to.” She glances over at Harry. He looks pained but he nods in agreement. “Of course not.” He says quietly.

You take a deep breath in before nodding. “Okay, then where do we start?”

“A lot of times, affairs feel like they come out of nowhere. They do.” She gives you an assuaging look. “But it’s also important to remember that there were issues before it and they’re still there to be worked through. We want to work through the big problem, but oftentimes couples work through that but not other things and end up separating.”

You nod and take a deep breath trying to think through issues. Things had felt perfect during your pregnancy with Jack.

You were excited, a fourth child and it was a boy, you and Harry had been hoping for another boy. Harry had even planned the small family vacation to the beach so you could enjoy time together as a family of five before it became six.

“We argued.” You say quietly. The family vacation slips from your mind as your exhausted tears come to your memory. “Um. I had Jack and I was exhausted and we argued. It was barely even an argument.”

“He still won’t eat?” Harry asks, coming into the bedroom. He was still in his suit from court and you feel angry heat flush through you at how put together he looked. How well rested and up he looked.

You shake your head silently. Harry seems to not notice your tense jaw as he pushes his way into the closet to find clothes for the night. You turn to look down at Jack laying restlessly in your arms. Tears rush to your eyes as you stand and place Jack in his bassinet and finally get a look at yourself in the mirror hanging next to the closet door.

You hadn’t showered since Persephone had left earlier the previous day and after running around to get the twins settled with Gemma and taking care of the baby all day you felt tense and gross.

Harry comes out and smiles kindly as he watches you step towards the ensuite. “Can you watch him for a moment? I need a shower. I feel gross and it’ll help me relax. My nurse said getting tense makes it harder to breastfeed.”

Harry looks down at his watch. “Something more important?” You ask before he can get a word out. “No. Just- I was supposed to hop on a conference call with Jeff, I’ll reschedule.” Harry tries to change the tone of the conversation, but you’ve already seen red. “Y/N, go shower.”

“I’m sorry.” You say instead of moving. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you with your child for half an hour.” You know you don’t mean the harsh words and that you’ll probably regret them all after you’ve taken a break but- “I’m home all day with him, but fuck if I ask you to watch him so I can shower.”

Harry’s eyes widen at the cold tone. He crosses his arms defensively across his chest as he takes a step back from you, even though he was already several feet away. “I never said I was inconvenienced. You asked a question and I answered honestly. I don’t have a problem spending time with my own child, Y/N.”

Your turn on your heel and stock into the ensuite and slam the door shut behind you. You hear Jack begin to fuss more and Harry’s whispers as he presumably picks the baby up. There wasn’t a time in the fifteen years you’ve had children that you’ve ever thought Harry didn’t want to spend time with his kids. You still didn’t. But the exhaustion and stress that you felt with Jack was unlike anything you’d felt before and Harry hadn’t seemed to notice.

“It felt like you weren’t paying attention.” You say quietly. “It felt like you had no idea what was going on.” Dr. Walsh trains her eyes on you as Harry’s eyes flick around trying to figure out what argument you were talking about.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. Jack is curled in your arms as he eats and a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. You feel shameful at the words that had slipped out in an attempt to make Harry notice how upset you were. “I know you’re not inconvenienced by our kids.”

Harry turns his head to look at you. He had been silently typing out emails as you fed Jack, upset but refusing to leave your side. “What’s wrong?” He asks as he slams the laptop shut.

You want to tell him. How stressed and anxious you felt. How much tougher being with Jack was than any of your other children. How insecure it made you feel. You should tell him.

But.

“How could I tell you all that and not sound like I’m angry at our child? Not sound like an awful mother?” You choke on the words.

Harry stares at you with what looks like pity and you turn away. You didn’t want pity. You wanted help. You wanted him to understand. “You don’t sound like a horrible mother. You sound tired.”

“What stopped you from telling him this?” Dr. Walsh prompts gently as you and Harry fall into silence. Her eyes flicker to Harry as he watches you with the same sad eyes.

You shrug. “I just wanted him to notice. I wanted to feel like he still noticed me.” You let out a breath. “We love Jack, but Jack wasn’t exactly planned. We weren’t sure if we wanted a fourth and had only just begun talking about it. When I found out I was pregnant and figured out how excited I felt, I knew I wanted to keep him.” You explain to the therapist carefully. “We decided that we wanted him, but he would be our last one.”

You think of the doctors appointments and heavy warnings that a fourth pregnancy could wreck havoc on your body.

“But I’m not twenty-three anymore and the pregnancy was really tough on me. And Harry knew. So he took care of the kids when I couldn’t and he planned vacations for me before I gave birth and it-” You breath catches. “It felt like you didn’t care anymore once I had him because I wasn’t in danger anymore. But Jack is stubborn and I was struggling.”

Harry takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to steady your trembling hands.

It’s a start. You guess.

“I didn’t realize how tough Jack was on you.” Harry says quietly that night. You had been dreading sitting in the awkward silence.

You shrug. “Babies are tough. Persephone was tough because we were so young. Serena and Oliver were tough because they were twins.” Your baby monitor makes a sound and you glance over to see Jack stretching his arms.

You sigh and stand up. “Jack was… Jack was tough in a way I wasn’t expecting. Maybe it was because I had four kids all of the sudden or because you started working more. I was exhausted all the time.”

You leave before he can say anything in response, but you know he’ll follow you to Jack’s room. You push the door open quietly and hear Jack’s soft giggles.

“Hello, handsome.” You whisper as he looks up at you. “What’s got you awake?”

You pick him up gently and bring him over to the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room. Harry leans against the door jam.

You rock back and forth with Jack in your arms and Harry watched with gentle eyes. You look up as Harry begins to speak quietly. “I wish I could take everything back. Just… Redo this past year.”

You look down at Jack and run a gentle finger over his cheek. “You can’t. You don’t get redos in real life.”

The room is silent as you rock your baby back to sleep and Harry watches.

We’ll be a fine line.

Notes: Title song Fine Line. This is really a filler for the next piece, I needed April to get to May :/

A few things; I have them staying together written. While this has been my plan since I begun writing this part & the next, if it’s something people wanted, I could do two different endings.

Like I said, I wrote this at a low place for me and had always imagined it as some type of closure that I never got from my parents situation or from my ex. Cheaters suck. But, some people do work through it. Some people can’t. That’s the beauty of our autonomy, we decide. I got a lot (and I mean a lot) of messages urging me to be mindful of impressionable people who may read this piece & with that I want to say; Your situation is not this one. Some cheaters will always be cheaters. This is not in anyway trying to convince you that a toxic relationship is okay. Or that cheating is okay. Please remember this is fiction and not meant to do anything other than entertain you! This is a piece I wrote & a piece whose ending I choose. Thank you for reading. I love every single person who read What Kind of Man and thought, I want more of this person’s writing.

(please do not be mean to me, I write for fun & am very emotional thank u)

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles writing #my writing #tee answers

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kirishoshego · 3 years

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Part of Me//Bakugo

Summary: You could say that Bakugo was the one that got away but now that you were about to marry things change Words. 3.1k+ TW: sfw: angst, fluff, mention of heart break (both him and you) being in a more or less unhappy relationship Whenever people would ask you how you felt about your upcoming wedding you would smile and say: ‘Really excited’ Because that’s how you were supposed to feel. Excited, happy, deeply in love, lucky, joyful, blessed, in seventh heaven, over the moon.

Your fiancé was kind and caring, he never made you doubt his love for you, at least not intentionally. If you were to tell him ‘jump’ he would ask ‘how high’, he would never tell you no, he would agree with everything you say. Whatever you wanted to do would be what he wants and apologize even before doing something wrong. Yet, you felt everything but. Don’t get it wrong: You were happy, you loved your fiancé... But if you loved him the way you were supposed to, why was the small wooden box filled with love letters of the love of your youth your most priced possession? You told yourself it was just harmless sentimental value, pale memories you don’t want to fade away completely. But you couldn’t hide the small rips nor the dried wet spots, all evidence of the many nights you read them over and over again. You couldn’t deny the tug on your heart whenever your eyes skipped over his name at the end of each letter, couldn’t help the way your body was arching for his touch every time you thought about him. Arch for the love he only ever gave to you. Have his arms wrapped around your body one last time, his lips on yours as a kiss good bye, hear his raspy voice in your ear, calling out your name to bring you peace before you leave.

Regret filled every inch of your body whenever you think back to the day you walked out of his life, walked away from your future together. It was the day after your graduation. Bakugo was on top of the class, of course he was, he had trained so hard and studied so much, it couldn’t have been any other way. You were on 6th place and Bakugo was so proud of you, even happier for you than he was for himself. He had planned to move in with you soon, even spotted a sweet apartment the two of you could share. Talking about the family you could start, about marriage. But in the night of the big party you bumped into Izuki, who congratulated the both of you and when your boyfriend walked away to grab something to drink the green haired boy turned around to you with a smile on his face. ‘I never would have though Kacchan would be able to fall for someone. He’ll even give up spot #1 just to be with you, that must be true love’ he said, kind and soft, not the tiniest hint of evil in his voice. And yet he caused more damage to Bakugo and you than the L.O.V ever did with those two sentences. That night you realized that you were being awfully selfish, keeping Katsuki away from his biggest dream in life. All he ever wanted was to be Hero #1, to be better than anyone, better than All Might. But here you were, keeping him back. Caged. Taking his precious time just for your happiness. His happiness was far more important for you than yours will ever be. So that night you disappeared. A simple note left on his nightstand, telling him you’re sorry but it’s better that way, you won’t be holding him back anymore, you promised, and the ghost of a kiss lingering on his lips was the only trace you had left behind for him when he woke up in the early morning hours.

Years have passed before the two of you met again. It was a fluke, more or less, that you were seated next to him on a plane. Yet, there was no awkwardness between the two of you, as if the night never had happened, as if you were still so familiar with one another, like you just spend hours, not years, apart. Neither one of you dared to bring the memory up though, him scared to find out why you left him, you scared to find out how much it must have hurt him. But your decision was the right one, he was on the top now. Bakugo Katsuki, Dynamight, Pro Hero #1. And you were so proud of him, you always knew he could do it, but these words never went past your lips, as if you had no right to tell him that. Of course you kept an eye on him, celebrated with him from afar, but you left him, you had no right to act as if you had supported him in anyway. That’s what you told yourself. When he asked to exchange numbers you were happy, but whenever your phone binged around your fiancé you felt shame in the pit of your stomach. Because you knew Bakugo could never be ‘just a friend’, he’ll always be more. Because it was him you called in those lone nights when your fiancé was out of town, it was him you texted first in the morning and last in the night. Because whenever you met him for a cup of coffee you told the man you’re going to marry it was just a friend you met up with, someone you knew from work. Whenever you noticed the door to him opening again you shut it close, sealing it with oh so many locks and yet they’re opened within seconds whenever his name was seen on your screen. You had to remind yourself why you kept it shut over all these years, the pain of losing him too much to bare.

The wedding was now slowly edging closer, every single day feeling dreadfully longer than the one before. And the less time you had, the more you doubted your decision to be with him for the rest of your life, as your heart was devoted to someone else. It wouldn’t be fair to him, he loved you dearly, treated you with nothing but kindness, you should do the same. But Midoriya’s voice reminded you that, without you, Bakugo was stronger, you couldn’t expect him to just take you back after what you’ve done, you couldn’t be so crude to the man you loved more than life itself. So you stayed. You told yourself you were the happiest like this. And it wasn’t like you had no love for your fiancé, you did. Otherwise you wouldn’t have accepted his proposal. It was good the way it was, changing it would just cause more chaos than necessary. It might break your heart in the progress, but that’s better than breaking the hearts of those you loved. You sucked it up, took a deep breath and put a smile on your face. Things will be just fine. But the night before your big day was spend alone, shrouded in darkness as silent tears spilled out of your sleep deprived eyes, caressing your cheek. You had opened every letter of Bakugo the very same day you got them. At first the letters started out as a joke, but there was something about them that made these written words a big part of your lives. You did text daily, of course, but (even though Bakugo would kill everyone who would dare to even think about it) he liked the romantic aspect of it. Texts can get deleted, lost within the world wide web, gone with a simple crash. Meaningless as some sort of, because everyone texted via social media today. And you weren’t everyone. You were Bakugo and Y/N, an odd couple somehow, but you weren’t bothered by the way people talked about you. Not at all. What mattered was that you had each other, for ever. Shaky hands stroked over the last letter you had received, not through him, but Kirishima. At first he pretended your meet up was nothing but an accident but when he left and you arrived home you noticed an envelope, covered in big and some smaller thumb prints, telling you that it must have been moved quite a lot. To this day you didn’t open it, couldn’t brace yourself for what was about to come. You took in a deep breath as the silvery paperknife softly gleamed in the dim light of your nightlight, gliding through the piece of paper. My Y/N, To be honest I don’t know where to start. God, I fucking hate this. You changed your number, moved away and didn’t even leave an explanation. Do you really hate me that much? To just leave me behind like I’m some sort of extra and not the man you wanted to spent the rest of your life with. I know those weren’t lies, you never were able to lie to me. So now I’m out here, looking like a fool, trying to wrap my head around the fact my person is gone without a trace. I even talked to Deku, asked him if he knew anything, but of course that extra didn’t knew shit. He offered to talk to you but I didn’t want him out of all people to contact you. Kiri told me he had run into you once, he said you looked awful. Not really his words, but from what he described you are just as torn apart as I am. Which confuses me even more. If you’re so hurt why won’t you come back? I hate giving second chances but I would do anything for you. You got me fucking whipped for you shitty woman and then you just pack your stuff and leave? The last couple of month have been awful. I haven’t slept properly, I can’t without you next to me. If you need time (even if I don’t understand for what, because we’ve been going strong since day one dipshit, if someone needs time it’s me from your annoying, cute fucking self) I can give that to you, just come back. Kirishima is trying really badly to fill in your spot and (don’t you dare to ever tell a single soul about this, I’ll kill you… maybe…) while his hugs are warm and loving and attempt to make me laugh do crag me up here and there it’s not the same. No one can ever replace you. We are young, we don’t know shit about life, but if I do know one fucking thing is that I want to wake up to your stupid angelic face every morning. I still remember the nights were you asked me what had torn me apart, the nights you held me close to you because of the awful nightmares that haunted me. I never wanted you know what they were about, never wanted you to worry, but never had I imagined that those nightmares will turn true. That I’ll lose you. Damn it, I want to marry you, have kids with you (if you want, I’m fine with sticking to practice) and turn old and grey and yell at the neighbors kids for ruining our garden. I might can’t give you everything you want but I know I’m everything you need and visa versa, I guess. Y/N I don’t want to bottle you up, but I can’t let you go either. It’s so fucking confusing and I hate it. I hate that you didn’t give me a clean cut, a proper explanation but at the same time I don’t want that, I don’t want to know why you left me, cause maybe I pushed you away, maybe it was my fault. Whatever your reason is we can work through it. I promise you, I’ll love you forever, because you are a part of me. The best. I won’t ask you to send me a letter back, as I will never send it to you. I think hearing from you, meaning you won’t come back, would just break me more. So now I have to be selfish, focus on me again, because if I won’t I’ll drown, Katsuki Lines were crossed out, some words thickened, indicating the many times he wrote them, over and over again. Like he said, he never planned for this letter to ever reach you. He didn’t knew Kirishima gave it to you and even Kirishima never knew if you found it, maybe it got lost on the way, some things better when hidden. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, torn into so many pieces you couldn’t count every small particle, even if you tried. That was the moment you realized you will never be whole again, never be home again.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, dressed in all white, the most beautiful gown you had ever laid your eyes upon. All evidence of the previous nightly events were hidden under a mask of make-up, your hair never sat more perfect than it did right now. When your eyes met the person in the mirror you couldn’t identify with her. Whoever she was, she looked like a happy bride, someone who was in love with her fiancé, in love with her life. “Hey,” a deep voice spoke up behind you, making you drop the bouquet. Turning around you were met with the most beautiful set of crimson red eyes. “Katsuki, what...” you stammered, not knowing if your mind just messed with you, the cold feet everyone warned you about now making their appearance. “You look beautiful,” he told you, walking closer to you, your nose filled with your favorite smell in the world. Softly burned caramel. You held your hand up, scared that if you touch him he’ll be gone, just a figment of your imagination. “What are you doing dumbass?” he laughed, setting of thousand of butterflies in your stomach, starting the fire that was long defunct. “Come here,” he pulled you and the moment your skin touched his you realized he was here, with you, in this room. Bakugo held you close to him, biting back the tears that threatened to spill out his eyes, because it wasn’t him you will walk to at the end of the aisle. “What are you doing here?” you whispered into his chest, your hands fisting his suit jacket, feeling complete again. Finally at home. “I promised to be with you, by your side to celebrate every milestone in your life. And marriage is a huge one, don’t you think?” he asked you as you looked up to him, lips inches away from one another. “But...” suddenly reality came crushing down, everything was not going to be just fine. Thousand knives pushed into your chest at once. Or at least that’s what it felt like. “Today is your big day Y/N. After all these years you’re still my best friend,” “Hey!” you heard Kirishima suddenly call out in the door frame, ducking down to not hit his head. “Eijiro!” you exclaimed, engulfing him into a big hug as best as you could. “Hey little one, you’re still as small as I remember!” he laughed, gently wiping away your tears that threatened to ruin your mascara. “Sorry for not answering your invitation, we were just awfully busy with Hero Work and our secretary messed up, mixing the actual mail with fan mail,” Bakugo explained after Kirishima set you down again. “I’m so happy to have the two of you by my side, my favorite men finally with me again,” you told them, looking at Bakugo. He still had the same expression on his face whenever he would look at you. Filled with love and adoration. “But I’m your absolute favorite, right?” Kirishima laughed, his smile beaming. “Of course you are,” you endorsed your tall friend standing next to you. “We will actually wait outside, the church is stuffed, so...” Eijiro trailed off, his eyes glued to his best friend. “Yeah! But we wanted to see you before, to uhm...Congratulate you,” Bakugo cleared his throat, putting on the best smile he could for you. You seemed so happy, that was all he ever wanted. “Yeah, congrats, your guy seems nice,” “Yeah, he is,” was all you could say. Because he was nice, he just wasn’t Bakugo. “I’m so glad I saw you before, I really did miss you,” your eyes couldn’t let go of the blond man in front of you and neither could his let go of you. “We better get going now,” Kirishima said after some moments draped in silence passed by. “Save a dance for me,” Katsuki told you, kissing your forehead for one last time before leaving through the door. Hours could have passed, maybe minutes, maybe seconds. You had lost track of time after his lips met your skin. When you entered the church, a small wave of Bakugo all you could really register, you weren’t present. It felt like you were in a movie, everything slow motion, watching from afar while the main character walked into her demise. The audience wasn’t applauding her, everyone screamed, asking her what the fuck she was doing. The moment you looked into your fiancé’s eyes, was the moment you snapped out of it, feeling your soul entering your body again, letting you realize what’s happening in first person. He grabbed your hand and looked at you with warm, sad eyes. He knew. “I’m sorry, I-” you whispered, even before the pastor could open up his bible. “It’s okay, go,” was all he said, rubbing his thumb over your hand, reassuring you to go for what you loved. Go for whom you loved. People gasped left and right, whispers filling the holy halls as the bride run down the aisle, pushing open the big wooden doors, her eyes immediately falling onto him. Her lover, her best friend, her other half. Bakugo Katsuki. His back was turned to you, shoulders shaking ever so gently while his best friend towered over his frame, trying his hardest to console the blond. It was Kirishima who noticed you first, pointing at you as Bakugo turned around, not a moment too late as you fell into his arms. “I love you Bakugo Katsuki, I have ever since day one. I was stupid enough to walk away from you once, I won’t do it again. If you don’t want me back I understand, but if I don’t try then-” his lips on your shut you up, first a small amount of shock pumping through your veins, the warm feeling of love and safety replacing it within seconds. “Run away with me?” he asked you, displaying his beautiful smile. “Of course I will, without you I’m just a half, because you’re a part of me, the best.”

©Kirishoshego

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oitommothetease · 3 years

Text

Invisible String (14/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.4k words

Warning : angst, sad reader, angry reader, dumbass Bucky, Steve being likable for once, smartass Sam, reader finally having some friends, mention of assault, confrontation, drinking, fluff, Bec is Bucky’s sister - Rebecca

Unlike you, Bucky remembered everything. He could never forget that you were hurt because of him — tied to a chair for hours while he couldn't save you — crying on the bathroom floor as he held you. The only thing common in all of those instances was him. You had to go through shit because of him, and yet, you still didn't blame him. You wrapped your arm around him as if he wasn't the cause of your pain. It was clear that his past and the baggage that he came with didn’t bother you. In fact, you understood and accepted his trauma and still loved him. You didn't love him despite his baggage. No, you loved him with every bad thing he offered.

Bucky was sure you were delusional. No sane woman would want to be with the man who was responsible for her captivity, yet you snuggled closer towards him the moment this thought occurred in his head. And Bucky loved you more because of that, and he thought he wasn't physically capable of loving you more than he already did. Bucky knew you reciprocated those feelings, it was very obvious that both of you were a goner for the other. Nevertheless, those emotions were not voiced out loud in your relationship yet. And Bucky wanted it to stay that way.

Bucky decided to sneak out of your bed and house before you could wake up. He was aware it was cowardly of him to just leave without giving you an explanation. But if he stayed to explain, you would have asked him to stay, and he didn't have it in himself to tell you no. You were the ray of sunshine in his stormy life and he could never say no to you. You could ask him to get you the sun, and he would get it for you, even after knowing that it would kill him and the humankind in the process. He would still do it.

But what he couldn’t do was refuse you, so he would have to leave you instead.

***

You woke up a bit disoriented, unaware of the surroundings you were in. It took you a minute to process that you were in your own house and not held captive. Once you came back to your senses instinctively you called for Bucky. He held you while you slept the previous night, so he had to be out in the kitchen. When no response came back, you went out to check for him, only to be met with an empty house.

When you tried to contact him, Bucky was distant. He didn’t respond to your texts and your mind was telling you that something was wrong, but you shoved those thoughts sideways, hoping that maybe he was busy with work. But you both went through something traumatic, you needed him to be with you. If he were busy, he could have at least texted you.

Well, if he was going to ignore you, then you wouldn't be one of those people whose life revolved around their partner. You had a book to write and ambitions that didn’t involve him.

Two hours later, when there was no word from him, you stared at the blank screen on your computer. You weren’t unfamiliar with writer's block, but it had been months and you haven't written a single line since the incident in the club involving Rumlow. And now that you were alone with your thoughts, you started doubting everything. Should you have stayed in that corporate 9 to 5 job? You'd have a stable life and a fixed salary. Maybe you could have even got a promotion. Should you have filed a complaint against Rumlow? Bucky wanted you to, he even assured you the cops would be on your side, but you just weren't ready. You realized that by choosing to remain silent, you were sending a predator out in the world. He could do that to other people and you could have stopped it.

A knock on the front door interrupted your train of thoughts and you were grateful for the person on the other side. You assumed it was Bucky, he didn’t need to buzz in because he literally owned the building. Well, it could also be any one of his friends. Sam and Steve also didn't need permission . And the other day when Peter came by to give you your phone (you left it in the club), he didn't buzz in either.

Seeing Wanda, Peter and Pietro on the door was a good change and God, you needed a change or else you'd go mad with self-loathing.

“We brought pizza,” Wanda exclaimed, lifting the bag in her hand to show you.

You didn't say anything, just smiled at them thankfully. You were really delighted they were here. Not only that, but you didn't have many friends here, and you considered your work friends, your only friends. It was nice to see that they saw you as a friend too and not just someone they work with.

“And beers,” Pietro chimed in, raising the carton in his hand.

You looked at Peter before teasing, “Is he even legal, guys?”

Seeing you joke around with them made Wanda happy. Between all the testosterone, she truly needed a female friend, and she was relieved to see you treating them as friends rather than colleagues. And she understood the trauma that must haunt you since your kidnapping. She was an empath and when you didn’t show up at work, she grew worried.

Half an hour later, most of you were on your second beer. Pietro was on his fourth. That man was fast at everything he did. A movie was playing in the background that none of you paid attention to while everyone was settled on your couch. It wasn't a very spacious couch, you were all squashed into it, but it was too comfortable to leave. You were sitting in between Peter and Wanda, while Pietro was situated beside his sister.

You forgot how nice it felt to have friends and bitch about people to them.

“And just like that he was gone. I woke up and he wasn't there,” you told them, “Hasn't been taking my calls either.”

Pietro took a sip of his drink before saying, “What an ass!”

Wanda raised her bottle, nudging all of you to join her, and said, “Fuck men!”

“Amen!” you agreed, Peter and Pietro nodded too.

“You should focus on your book,” Pietro advised, “Bucky is gonna regret if he loses someone like you, babe.”

The book. Your book. You couldn't tell them why you weren't focused on the book. It was still a lot to process, and you were not ready, so you nodded before chanting, “Fuck Bucky!”

***

“What are you doing here?” Sam questioned as he and his husband entered the office.

“Last I checked, I own this place.”

Sam huffed, “I meant why are you here instead of her place, smartass?”

Bucky looked around to avoid the questioning gaze of both Sam and Steve. He hadn’t talked to Steve since the argument they had over you. Of course, they did discuss business as usual, but nothing related to their personal life.

“She doesn't need me,'' Bucky murmured and looked at Steve. “You must be pleased to know that it's over.”

Bewilderment was clear on the faces of both the men because Bucky exhaled loudly before continuing, “I almost got her killed. It would be wise and safe for her to not be with me.”

Steve finally spoke, “Did she say that?”

When his best friend shook his head ‘no’, Steve sighed in exasperation. “You are an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, that's what you wanted, didn't you?” Bucky retorted, “For me to focus on work and not on her.”

“I was clearly wrong, pal,” Steve raised his hand in exasperation as if it was obvious, “And I’m sorry for that.”

“Well, it's over now.”

***

“Before I met Nat. I dated a girl who pretended to be gay,” Wanda scrunched her nose, remembering the awful memory.

“Oh yeah, weird Sallie,” Pietro smiled teasingly, “Did you guys know that when Wanda brought her home, she hit on our dad?”

“No!” Both you and Peter cried out, stupefied at his words.

“Yeah,” Wanda outlined, “And on Pietro too.”

“I mean, Mr. Barnes is not like this,” Peter brought the conversation back to Bucky and you sucked in a heavy breath. “I’m sure he had a good reason for doing all of this.”

“Seriously?” you were pretty drunk, but not drunk enough to talk about Bucky. You looked at Wanda and Pietro for support, but they shrugged their shoulders in a manner that said, ‘He's not wrong, though.’

You wanted to go to bed and sleep. But you knew they were right. Bucky would never hurt you intentionally, you knew that. “Do you guys know where he is now?”

***

Since trying to talk some sense into Bucky wasn't working, Sam and Steve retaliated back to talk about business.

“Clint is officially out of here,” Steve reported, “Torturing him would just create more ruckus. Rumlow is behind us because he wants his weapons in the government, and Clint would just be a casualty in all this shit. He has three kids.”

Sam huffed, “We told Laura. Her wrath would be worse for Clint than our fists.”

Bucky didn't say anything and just nodded. Steve could feel something was on Bucky's mind, wrapping his arms to his chest, he raised a brow towards his best friend.

“I’m just tired of all of this,” Bucky said sadly, “Is this what we left Rumlow for, pal? You have a kid at home, Wanda has a wife, I have ma and Bec and I haven't met them in years, in fear of someone following me. And now — Well, now I’ve lost the girl too."

Steve and Sam looked at their friend with sympathy. They knew the toll their work took on all of them. Hell, they had a four-year-old daughter at home, and could barely sleep at night, always terrified of losing their kid because of their job.

Sam was about to ask Bucky to suggest an alternative that would help all of them could to make it out of there and just work on the club and not some shady business. Suddenly, the office door flung open and on purpose, everyone’s hand reached for the gun in their waistband. But in walked you with a beer bottle in your hand and a pizza slice in another.

“JAMES BUCKY BARNES!” You exclaimed, your steps wavering a little as you walked towards him. Oh, and you looked royally pissed.

Instantly, Bucky was on his feet and making his way towards you, to hold you — to be near you. And before you could say anything, he was engulfing his arms around your waist, his head settled at the crane of your neck and you frowned. Okay, You did not expect that. You thought he would ignore you, and you would give him a piece of your mind before leaving.

Sober you would have asked him to have a mature conversation like adults, but tipsy you wanted to flip him off and leave. Your arms hung around your sides awkwardly, trying to understand the situation before finally pushing him away.

“You left me,” you spoke so softly that if Bucky wasn't so close, he wouldn't have heard it. “I needed you and you left me alone.”

Bucky’s heart broke at your words. He didn't consider how his rash decision would affect you. You were kidnapped by the person who assaulted you. Fuck, he cursed himself. He was supposed to be protecting you, not hurting you. You sounded so hurt that Bucky wanted to get on his knees and ask for forgiveness. He was so focused on your physical injuries, he did not even realize he was hurting you emotionally.

Steve cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable to present. He interrupted and took his husband’s hand in his, “We’re going to go.”

Before they could leave, you shifted your attention towards Steve and pointed a finger at him. “Why do you hate me?”

Steve stammered, he didn't expect you to put him in a spot like this, but you had a tad more than necessary liquid courage in your system.

“Doll,” Bucky breathed, and you moved your gaze back towards him. Steve took the opportunity and left the room with Sam.

You were on the verge of tears by now — both of you were — Bucky wasn't a man who could voice his feelings, but with you, all of his armor came shattering down. With you — he would tell you his vulnerabilities and fears just so he could let you in. You meant so much to him that the fear of losing you blinded his sense of understanding. He realized that he acted immaturely and by doing so, he almost lost you.

“You hurt me,” Your voice wavered, the traitorous tears made their way down your eyes, and Bucky couldn't see you like that. Instinctively, he stretched his hands to wrap around you, but stopped, “Can I hold you?”

You sniffled and nodded, and Bucky engulfed you flush against his chest. After a while, you snaked your hands around his shoulder too, and a sob broke down from your throat.

He didn't remember how long he held you like this, but after a while, he picked you up and made his way to the couch. He stood before you and then slid one hand up to your cheek. Likewise, he brushed his thumb across your cheek. And then you slowly straddled his waist as you both settled down on the soft sofa. Bucky’s hands fell naturally to your hips to pull you closer.

“I love you, Bucky,” you whispered, once your tears suspended. You enveloped your arms around him and pressed your forehead against his.

Bucky didn’t know whether you meant it or not. You were pretty drunk. He hoped you did.

“I love you, doll,” he confessed as he kissed the crown of your head. He noticed that you were on the brink of sleep, your breathing even, and you looked so peaceful in his arms.

He felt at ease — calm even with you in his arms and in that moment he decided he was never letting you go no matter what.

TAGS : @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407 @mybuck @priii @coffeebooksandfandom @ladydmalfoy @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @sabrinathesimp

Taglist for future stuff.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

In These Walls

Colson finally writes a song about you, years after your whirlwind relationship. You come to his house to confront him, only to relive your favorite memories.

Request: “Hi, i was wondering if you could possibly write something about the background for "in these walls" song. Like it's a wrong time right person situation. Maybe like they split up and get together multiple times knowing that it's true love. And in the end after hearing the song reader leaves him for good and wishes him to be happy? But you could change any part of it, it just would be really nice to have a back story for this song.”

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Adult content (It’s not full blown smut but it’s there), substance abuse, cursing, angst

A/N: I changed this request just a little bit, I hope you don’t mind. It’s the same concept it just ends a little differently. I had to take a little artistic liberty with the lyrics since some (a lot) of them were pretty ambiguous, but this is just my interpretation of the song.

A/N part 2: I really fucking loved writing this. I absolutely love this song and literally wrote like multiple plots for this. Also I was gonna keep it as the original ending but I had to do what I did (you’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 4897

Listen to the In These Walls

masterlist

You parked your car on the side of the street, taking in the all too familiar house in front of you. As you walked up to the door, you could already hear the party in full swing. For a second your heart fell, just a little. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed his parties.

Your hand grasps the handle to the front door, opening into the once familiar entryway hall, where the two of you had first met.

You walked up to the door with Ashleigh, trailing slightly behind her. “Don’t worry Y/N, they’ll love you. They have to.”

You chuckled, “You know me, Ash. These kinds of parties just aren’t my thing. I’m much better at working with rock stars than partying with them.”

Ashleigh rolled her eyes, opening the door. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

You walked into the house, eyes wandering over the high ceilings and pristine decorations. You were slightly surprised that someone as infamous as Machine Gun Kelly had a place as clean as this.

“Kells! Slim!” Ashleigh called to two men, pulling you out of your thoughts. Your eyes landed to where her attention was focused, meeting the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen. He walked over to you and Ashleigh, his friend following behind.

“Hey Ashleigh, this must be the new assistant you’ve been talking about.” The blue-eyed boy greeted your friend and boss, his eyes still focused on you. “I’m Kells, but you can call me MGK, Colson, whatever you like.”

You smiled, maintaining eye contact, “Nice to meet you Colson, I’m Y/N”

Your eyes traveled the house, just as they had that first day, landing on one of the jackets hung up by the door. You chuckled to yourself. Two and a half years later and he still had the same leather jacket that he had once so carelessly thrown on the floor of your hotel room.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Your head rolled back, giving Colson better access to your neck. Your hands made their way to his hair, running your fingers through his locks.

Colson’s teeth nipped at your neck, ripping a small whine from your lips. Colson smiled against your skin, mumbling, “Why shouldn’t we?” His hands reached for your shirt, pulling it over your head, and returning his lips to your exposed skin.

You suppressed your moans as best as you could as he moved lower, his lips sucking at your nipples. “I mean, technically you’re my boss.” Your hands pulled on his hair as he nibbled on the sensitive bud. “And if Ash found out she’d fire me on the spot.”

His mouth moved lower, pressing sloppy kisses to your stomach. “Then we just don’t let her find out.” He smirked, unbuttoning your jeans, and pulling them down your legs, smiling at your lacy light pink panties.

Your eyes dropped to the floor as you recalled that night, the night everything changed. The night you had fallen head over heels in love with the man in the leather jacket.

You laughed at the memory. Hindsight really is 20/20.

You stepped further into the house, nostalgia hitting you at every corner. As the extent of the party came into your vision, you spotted Dre in the middle of the floor, dancing with a bottle of Jameson in his hand, no care in the world.

The party on the tour bus was in full swing when you and Ashleigh finally got on. Dre and Irv were in the middle of the floor, dancing and jumping with a group of girls around them. Rook and Slim were in the middle of a drinking competition, with Baze judging.

You looked around the room as inconspicuously as possible, searching for the man whose arms you had woken up in that morning. Your eyes met his as Ashleigh handed you a cup with who knows what in it, but you were too distracted to thank her.

Colson was sitting on one of the couches, a girl on his lap and a drink in his hand. His free hand was wrapped around her waist as she whispered something in his ear, pressing a kiss to his neck. His eyes, however, were trained on you.

Against your better judgement, you downed whatever was in the cup, feeling the burn of the alcohol in your throat. You met Colson’s eyes again, a smirk on his face.

You walked over to Ashleigh, grabbing another drink. “What’s gotten into you?” She laughed. “You never drink.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding the real reason you were eager to get drunk. “It’s our night off, right?” You laughed, raising your cup before drinking it.

You stayed on the outskirts of the crowd, trying to find the blue-eyed boy that you came to see. Your heart was racing as you leaned against the wall, suddenly anxious about what you were here to do.

As you searched the crowd, you saw Rook sandwiched between two girls in typical Rook fashion.

“Hey Kells, have you noticed something going on with Y/N?” The shorter boy got his friend alone, concern in his eyes.

Colson shrugged, unbothered. “Not really, why?”

“I dunno man, she used to never drink or smoke or any of that shit. Now I don’t think she’s been fully sober for like a week.”

Colson knew what was going on, but he couldn’t exactly tell Rook about it, Rook liked you too much for that. “I haven’t noticed anything. Maybe she’s just getting more comfortable with us. She’s probably fine.” He fed his friend lies, hiding the fact that you were trying to impress him.

To your benefit, it was working. Colson found you much more attractive when you weren’t so strung up all the time, and he made sure to tell you that every night when you were under him.

Rook sighed, “I mean, maybe. She just never seemed like this type.”

You hadn’t been to a party like this in months. After everything that had happened, you’d been trying to get clean. You’d been officially sober for 15 months.

Realizing that Colson was probably outside or preoccupied with someone else, you made your way to the bathroom further in the house, the one no one really knew about or bothered to use.

You’d been rushing around for the last few hours making sure everything was ready to go and as soon as you thought you could relax, Colson disappeared.

You were about to get onto the tour bus when Slim told you. You sighed in frustration, realizing you would have to find the man before anyone could leave.

You made your way through the venue and towards the greenroom that the boys had trashed earlier that night. You walked across the room towards the dressing room door, seeing as Colson wasn’t in the room.

You had been in the dressing room with Colson dozens of times, you never felt the need to knock. No one did. So, you thought when you walked in, you’d find him changing or packing his things up. Instead, you found him in a much more… compromising position.

The girl was on the counter, head thrown back and eyes shut in pleasure. Colson’s head was buried in her neck as he slammed into her. When he heard the door open, his head shot up, your eyes connecting. In that moment, all of the feelings you had for him left your body.

“Everyone’s on the tour bus and waiting for you so we can leave. Join us whenever you’re ready.” Your voice and expression were emotionless.

“Y/N wait.” Colson called as you turned and walked out the door. “Fuck.” He grabbed his boxers, pulling them on and rushing after you. His hand grabbed your arm, stopping you and turning you towards him. “Y/N please, it’s not-“

“What it looks like? Funny.” You shook your arm from his grasp.

“Don’t get all mad about this.” Colson pleaded.

“Why shouldn’t I get mad about this Colson? We’ve been sleeping together every night for what, three weeks now? How many other girls have you had between then and now?” You kept your voice even, not showing how much you were hurting inside.

Colson rolled his eyes, “C’mon Y/N, you know that shit wasn’t serious.”

You bit your lip, nodding slowly. “Yeah, of course it wasn’t serious for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Do you have any idea what you do to people?” Your voice finally raised, “You make people feel so special for a little while, and then just when they think they have something real with you, you take it all away from them.”

Colson stood there, stunned. He wasn’t expecting you to be this upset. You continued, “And I knew when I met you that this would happen, I knew this was the kind of person you were. I guess I got so caught up in you I didn’t realize how stupid I was being.”

You studied Colson’s face, searching for any sign of a feeling in him. “This is ridiculous. I’m fucking ridiculous. I can’t believe I ever thought you and I would work out.” You let out a bitter laugh. “I told myself that even if it took forever, that me and you would be together, but I guess you didn’t feel the same way.”

The bathroom was clean, like most of the rest of the house. It was ironic, you would think that a band of boys would have a house that looked trashed, but these boys seemed to like the clean.

You took a look at yourself in the mirror, hands resting on the counter in front of you. You took a deep breath, calming your nerves. “You can do this, it’s just Colson.”

“You can do this, it’s just Colson.” You told yourself, looking at his contact in your phone. You’d run out of options at this point. You were desperate.

You clicked the call button, hearing the phone ring before the familiar voice picked up. “Y/N?”

“Hey Colson, it’s me. I-uh- I hate to do this but I really don’t have anyone else to call.” Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you collected your thoughts. “My roommates kicked me out and I don’t have anywhere to go. I know we didn’t end on the best note, but I’m desperate.”

“You can stay over here.” He didn’t question you, didn’t even hesitate.

“Thank you.” You sighed, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You made your way back through the house, hoping Colson would have rejoined the party-his party- by now. On your way you stopped at the door that had become all too familiar for you. Your door.

You took a deep breath, reaching out and turning the handle, pushing the door open. He hadn’t changed anything in two years. The same orange comforter covered the mattress, the same decorations hung from the walls. The only thing he had changed was the lamp, which you two had broken during your time here.

“Any luck?” Colson asked, pushing the door open.

You sighed, pushing your laptop away from you. “No.” You frowned. “No one is looking for a roommate and no one is renting anything within my budget.”

Colson sat on your bed, a sympathetic expression on his face. “You can stay here as long as you need. But if you need help looking, I’m always willing to help.”

“Thanks Cols.”

Over the last week that you’d spent at his place, things seemed to get better between you two. The feelings you once harbored for him seemed to have disappeared, and now you were content with being friends.

“Of course.” He smiled, his hand reaching out and rubbing your thigh.

Ok, your feelings for him were gone, but even you had to admit he’s the best guy you’ve ever been with.

“If you need anything, I’m here.” His smile was very suggestive, as was the emphasis he put on “anything.”

You leaned towards him, face very close to his. “Anything?” You whispered seductively, a smile spreading on your face.

“Anything.”

All it took was his voice and the look in his eyes for you to connect your lips. His were so familiar to you yet seemed like a distant memory.

He moved your laptop off the bed, climbing over you, his knees on either side of you. Your bodies moved in perfect sync with each other, both needing the other’s.

And that was the start of the best 6 months of your life.

You leave the room, a shiver running up your spine at all the memories Colson and you made in there with the lights off. You start making your way to the kitchen, deciding to move around the crowd and sneak through the hallway, passing the open garage door, where more partygoers were dancing around Colson’s purple Aston Martin.

The breeze flew through your hair as you flew down the street, a joint in your hand.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” You looked over at Colson, a smile on his face.

“Nope. It’s a surprise.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a hit and blowing the smoke in his face. “A surprise at 2 in the morning?”

He chuckled, glancing over at you. “I’m sorry, is there something you’d rather be doing?”

“I can think of a few things.”

“Well maybe we can try some of your ideas when we get there.” He smirked and you laughed reaching your hand out the window.

Your plan didn’t work as well as you thought, as the entryway to the kitchen was just as crowded as the one closest to the living room. You squeezed your way through, trying to find someone you knew who could tell you where to find Colson.

The club was dark and smoky. You had been drinking with Colson for about an hour when you made your way to the dance floor, stumbling over your shoes and shooting Colson a smile. You had asked him to dance with you, but he insisted he was fine watching you.

You used to hate the feeling of so many people so close to you, but since touring with Colson you’d grown accustomed to it. You didn’t like the feeling of foreign hands around your waist, however.

You knew they weren’t Colson’s, his hands were gentle, these were rough, gripping your hips too tight. You reached down, trying to push them off of you, turning around to face the stranger.

“Hi beautiful.” The guy was a few years older than you and he smelled overwhelmingly of alcohol.

“I’m not interested.” You smiled kindly, stumbling away from him. His hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you back to him. With the high alcohol content in your blood, you couldn’t muster up the strength to push him off.

“You’re just gonna walk away from a man like that? I said hi beautiful.” The man’s grip was harsh, and you winced as it tightened.

“And she said she wasn’t interested.” Your chest lightened when you heard Colson’s voice.

The man looked up at Colson, realization hitting him. He let you go, raising his hands up in surrender. “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was your girl. Maybe if she wouldn’t dance like such a slut, I wouldn’t have thought she was single.”

Colson took a step towards the stranger, pushing you behind him. “Excuse me?” He questioned, head tilting.

“Your bitch was the one dancing like sh-“ He was cut off by Colson’s fist connecting with his jaw, sending him to the floor.

“Colson!” You squealed, stepping backwards.

“Don’t ever talk about her like that, or any other girl for that matter. Motherfucker.” Colson moved away from the man, turning to you, and taking you in his arms.

“You didn’t need to do that.” You said softly, wrapping your arms around him.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I know, I just couldn’t stand to hear him talk about you like that. Needed to teach him a lesson.” You nodded into his chest before backing away and taking his hand.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here.” You led him out of the club before security had the chance to throw him out.

As you made your way through the crowd you caught a short glimpse of a familiar red jacket.

“Cols?” You questioned, looking at yourself in the full-length mirror, his red jacket wrapped around your naked body. The man you’d been sleeping with for the past 5 months hummed in response, glancing over at you with a smirk on his face. “Why haven’t you ever written a song about me?”

You thought it was an innocent question. Even though you wouldn’t consider what you were doing a “relationship,” you two had been through enough shit together to warrant a song about it.

“Do you want me to write a song about you?” He questioned, his eyebrow raising.

You shrugged, looking away from the mirror and walking towards his place on the bed. “I just figured; you’ve written so many songs. None of them have been about me.”

He smiled, pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. “I can work on something.” He bit his lip, taking in the view of you on top of him.

You pushed through the crowd, trying to find the jacket again. After pushing through too many drunk rappers than you should ever have to, you saw him. He looked different from the last time you saw him, but he was still Colson.

“Babe,” Colson’s head was propped up by his elbow on the bed so he could face you. You looked over at him, your face still glowing from your last high. Colson took you in, the way your hair fell on the pillow, the way your makeup was slightly smudged, the way the light hit you just right, making you look like an angel.

“I love you.”

You froze at those three words, your breath catching in your throat. You were racking your brain, trying to figure out when you guys went from friends with benefits to this and you couldn’t find one. You thought you were just having fun; you didn’t realize how serious things had gotten for him.

“Don’t say that, Colson.” You whispered, your mind traveling back to the night in the greenroom, when you swore you’d never let yourself be so vulnerable in front of him again.

“What?” His face scrunched in confusion as you sat up, bringing the sheet up to cover your chest. “I mean it.”

“Well then don’t mean it.” You said, climbing out of the bed and pulling your red panties up your legs, throwing your shirt on.

Colson sat up, watching you with sad eyes. “What are you doing?”

You sighed, turning to face him. “I’m sorry, Colson. I thou- I thought we were just having fun. I didn’t realize you felt.” You paused, taking a deep breath, and choosing your words. “I didn’t know you felt like this.”

His face turned to hurt, almost anger. “What the fuck do you think we’ve been doing for the last six months, Y/N?’

You bit your cheek, trying to keep a clear head. “I’m sorry Cols, I didn’t mean to lead you on I just didn’t realize what we were doing was that serious.”

“Are you serious Y/N? You think I just let all the girls I’m hooking up with stay at my house for six months? Do you think I go on drives to the middle of nowhere at 2 am for just anyone?”

“I don’t know,” You were trying to suppress the tears that were pricking your eyes as you realized that all the signs had been in front of you, and you had ignored every one of them. You had led him on worse than you’d ever thought possible. “I’m sorry, Colson, really. I don’t-“ Your head was spinning, and you couldn’t form a coherent thought, much less a coherent sentence.

Colson had brought his hands up to his face, palms pressed against his temples. “God I’m so fucking stupid.” He mumbled to himself. “You know I didn’t sleep with anyone else after what happened in the greenroom? I couldn’t think about anyone but you. Y/N I would give up everyone- hell, I did give up everyone- for you. No one matters to me but you.”

It was like he was pleading with you at this point, begging you to love him back. The breaks in his voice and his sniffles told you he was crying, but you couldn’t feel anything. The world around you had gone numb, and it was all you could do to grab the rest of your clothes and walk out of the room.

“I have to go.” You whispered, wiping your tears, and looking at him one more time.

The last time you had seen the man in front of you, he was absolutely shattered. Now, looking at him, he seemed happy. You admired him as he laughed at something someone said, taking in the shape of his jawline that once was home to a number of your hickeys.

As if he could feel you looking at him, he turned his head, his eyes connecting with yours immediately.

It wasn’t until months later that you sorted out your thoughts. For a while you had pushed down all the memories and feelings you had about the situation, but after 3 months passed you realized how unhealthy it was.

You were spiraling, your memories being replaced with alcohol and drugs. It wasn’t until you were lying on the floor of your tiny apartment and wondering where you were that you realized just how bad you’d gotten.

You checked yourself into rehab a week later, getting help for your addictions and your mangled thoughts. You were finally able to understand your emotions and why you left.

It was two months later that you realized you had loved him too.

Colson’s happy demeaner sunk completely when he saw you, the gleam in his eyes disappearing.

“C’mon man, you can’t stay in there forever.” Slim knocked on the door, jiggling the locked handle.

Colson sat on the floor in your bedroom, a match in one hand and a cigar hanging from his lips. His eyes were red and puffy, his throat raw.

The first 2 months without you were the worst. He hadn’t realized he could feel so strongly about someone, and as soon as he came to terms with his feelings you left him. He finally started to pick himself up, but he could never let you go.

He tried to move on, he really did, but no one made him feel like you. And the way things ended between you didn’t leave any room for resolution.

He lit the match, lighting the cigar in his mouth. He inhaled the smoke, letting the flame burn itself out in his hand until he was left in the darkness.

You nodded your head towards the front door, asking him to meet you outside without words. He nodded, putting on a fake smile to say goodbye to the people he’d been talking to.

It was dark outside, so you stood under the streetlight outside his house. You dug your hands into your jacket pockets, biting your lip. Images of him flashed through your head as you waited for him. When he finally came out of the door, you sent him a small, sad smile.

“Hey.” You tried your best to not be awkward, but there wasn’t much you could do.

“Hey.” His eyes raked over you, taking in the changes two years had made on you. You had done the same thing, so you couldn’t complain.

“I heard your song.” Your voice was softer than you wanted it to be. You wanted to be strong but standing in front of him brought back all of the feelings you’d been trying to overcome. He nodded, looking down. “It’s really good.”

“Thanks.” His eyes wouldn’t meet yours, and you couldn’t blame him.

“Listen Colson,” You took a breath, “I’m not here to try and get you back or anything. I just couldn’t stand to have all that shit out in the world and not resolve it.”

He nodded again, still looking at the floor. “Yeah, yeah I get that.”

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered. “I missed you as soon as I left.” You were hoping for any sign of acknowledgement from him, but you got nothing from him. “I got pretty bad after I left. I started doing all this shit to try and forget about all the shit I put you through, and I had to go to rehab. I got clean, I got help with all of it. And I realized you deserve so much better than me.” You felt tears forming in your eyes.

“That’s why I never.” You had to pause, leveling your voice. “That’s why I never came back.”

He bit his cheek, finally looking up to you. “And I know that not everything was my fault. We both made mistakes but after hearing your song I couldn’t just not tell you that.”

“I, uh, I shouldn’t have released that song. I didn’t mean to hurt you with it or anything.” You shook your head.

“You didn’t hurt me. I mean, it sucked to have that be the song you wrote about me, but it was honest. I think I would’ve been more hurt if you wrote me something dishonest.”

He smiled softly at you, “I mean, it wasn’t completely honest. I definitely didn’t write about all the shit I put you through.” You let out a soft breath, almost like a laugh. “I was an asshole when we first met. You didn’t deserve that shit. You deserve someone who’s gonna treat you right and not try to change you into someone you’re not.”

You smiled at him, a real smile. You went to thank him when he spoke again, “And I just wanna say that I really did love you, and I still do. I think I always will, at least a part of me. But I know it’s never gonna work out, I’ve accepted that. With all our history, it’d just be too toxic. For both of us.”

You nodded, “I love you too. I didn’t realize it until so much later, but I loved you then and I love you now.” You let out a breath. “But I agree, like I said I just wanted to lay this part of my life to rest. Finish it once and for all.”

Colson nodded. “Goodbye Y/N.”

You leaned off the streetlamp, “Goodbye Colson. I hope you find happiness; you deserve it.”

Watching you walk away for the third time, knowing it would be the last time, just didn’t feel right. The battle between his head and his heart was intense, but he knew if he didn’t chase after you now, like he should have all those times before, he would never get another chance.

“Y/N, wait!” He jogged to meet you at your car, grabbing your waist as you turned to face him. Without thinking, he pressed his lips against yours. It wasn’t hungry, or needy, or angry. It was sweet, and passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You didn’t realize just how familiar his lips would feel, even after 2 years. It felt like coming home. When he pulled away, you looked up at him through confused eyes.

He pressed his forehead against yours, hand still on your hip, the other reaching up to touch your cheek. “I’ve watched you walk away from me too many times to let you do it again.” You smiled softly, biting your lip out of nerves. “Honestly, I don’t think I’m ever gonna love anyone else but you, and I can’t lose you, not now that I’ve got the opportunity to get you back.”

You turn your head towards his hand, pressing a small kiss to his palm. Looking into his eyes you saw a different Colson than the boy you knew two years ago. He was still Colson, but he was older, more mature, and so were you. He wasn’t pleading with you, he wasn’t begging you to stay. He was asking if you would. And in that moment you realized just how much you wanted to.

You closed your eyes, taking in a breath. “I’ve never loved anyone else but you.” Your voice was a whisper, the words you said were only for you two to hear. You opened your eyes, staring into his as you continued. “And if you still want me, I’d really like to start over with you.”

Colson smiled, his forehead pressing against you as he nodded. You giggled, and he pressed a kiss to your lips. “I’ve always loved hearing you laugh.” He whispered. You pulled him closer to you, capturing his lips in yours and tangling your hands in his hair.

When you finally let him go, you reached up to wipe your lipstick off the corner of his lips, resting your hand on his face and trying to convince yourself this was real. “You wanna come inside?” He whispered, head leaning into your hand.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #in these walls

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lilacmeadows · 3 years

Text

Made For You pt.3

I’m so sorry for the late post guys! I had the most hectic work load today. I’m taking too many goddamn classes this semester. ANYWAY here is my filthy part 3. I mean... they still haven’t fucked, but we’re getting there. I think this can be wrapped in a nice little 4 part bow, but I also kinda want 10 chapters of them together because I’m a slut for this dynamic. This is my FIRST TIME writing smut! So go easy on me. Thank you so much for reading! - Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, SMUT, ORAL (m receiving), FLUFF, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2300

It was a short ride to the compound, and y/n had a hard time keeping up with the fast walking team as they tried to explain little things along the way.

She hadn’t been outside in a decade. The grass was green and warm where it met her bare feet as she walked behind Sam and Steve. The rest of the team immediately left the quinjet, seeking the comfort of their showers and beds. Bucky was the last to leave, not feeling right about just disappearing from her, but keeping his distance.

Y/n was still so heartbroken. Hearing about her family’s death had really stung, and she knew if she dwelled on it, she’d cry about it for days. But all she really had time to be sad about was how cold her Soldat was towards her. It seemed very much like he didn’t want her around him.

Steve and Sam brought y/n inside the residential wing of the compound. They toured the common areas, kitchen, and showed her where everyone’s bedroom was. They finally got to a guest bedroom down the hall from Natasha, and left her to get cleaned up and comfortable.

Y/n looked around her new bedroom. It was barely decorated, but she had to admit, it was still much nicer than her room with the Men. She sat her yarn and needles down on a table and sat on the large bed. Her body instantly sank into it, the plush comforter conforming to her body in a way the single sheet never did on the twin bed she slept on.

But she couldn’t enjoy her new favorite place in the world for long because not 3 minutes later, she heard a soft knock at her door. She opened it, and much to her surprise, Bucky was standing there, with 2 pairs of sweatpants, and 3 t shirts in his arms.

“I figured you’d want some fresh clothes after you’re clean.” He said sheepishly, not making eye contact with her. “You can ask Nat about undergarments.”

That made her giggle the tiniest bit. “I’m not allowed to wear any undergarments.” But he should know that. She was trained to do things to please him, so wouldn’t he like her to not have on obstructing materials?

“Oh. Well, umm… you can now… If you want to. It’s up to you.” She could see the blush rise up his neck, coloring the bits of his face that weren’t blanketed by hair. She took in his attire. He obviously changed out of his tactical mission gear, in favor of the sweatpants he wore that looked almost identical to the ones in his arms. He also appeared to be freshly showered, his hair still damp, and if she looked close enough, she could see little wet patches on his shirt from where he didn’t dry himself completely.

“Are these your clothes?” She asked, taking the bundle from his arms and opening her door wider so he could enter her room.

“Yeah, Steve went a little overboard on the shopping when I first got here. They’ll be a little big, but the pants have a drawstring, so it should work for now. Until you get something better.” He stood awkwardly in the middle of his room.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to put the sweatpants up to her face and inhale deeply. She just felt a primal urge to know what he smelled like. Gunpowder, wood, and something naturally male- Bucky. She couldn’t stop the moan low in her throat.

Bucky watched her as she did that. He felt his pants tighten just at the thought of her in his clothes, and the way she just smelled his pants and let out that sound of satisfaction, made him want to take her right there.

“Thank you, sir.” Y/n replied. Fully engulfed in her embarrassment.

“Y/n, you really don’t need to call me that. I’m just Bucky.” He reminded her. Honestly, he loved when she called him Sir- the authority it gave him, but it made an unholy amount of blood flow directly to his cock and he couldn’t think as clearly. Especially when she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

“Okay, Bucky.” She said, trying the name out on her tongue. He liked the way she said it. “If that makes you happy.” She risked a step closer to him.

“You need to do what makes you happy.” He took an equally measured step back, knowing he was close to giving in to her temptation.

“I’m working on it, Bucky. But I need your permission. I just wanna be good for you.” She said, quickly taking 3 more steps until she was about 6 inches from his face.

“This isn’t right, Y/n. You don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. Hydra wanted this. You don’t have to belong to me.” She craned her neck up to be closer to his lips, but he was determined to reason with her before he does something he can’t take back.

“But I want to belong to you. I thought about you every day for 10 years years, Bucky. And I hadn’t even seen you.” Bucky tilted his head down ever so slightly, their lips were just shy of touching. “Let me be good for you, Bucky. Let me make you happy.” She repeated.

“Okay.” Was all he said. He expected their lips to touch then, but she was already down in her knees. None of her videos showed passionate kissing. She wanted to please him in the way she read about in her studies.

On her knees, Y/n was able to see the thick outline of his erect cock very easily, and couldn’t stop the involuntary moan. Just as she did with his other sweatpants, Y/n pressed her face against the bulge and inhaled deeply. Between the smell that was just so him, and the warmth of his clothed cock rubbing on her face, she was starting to go feral for the man standing in front of her in complete shock.

Bucky hadn’t been with a woman since before the war, and they definitely weren’t like this. He watched as she was damn near purring while she rubbed her face on him. She reminded him of a kitten, the way she open-mouthed kissed the line of his cock through his sweatpants. Then she pulled them down, and he felt her wet tongue roll around the fat tip.

“Shit, Y/n, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do you want me to stop, Sir?” She said, taking another lick from base to tip.

“God no. Fuck.” he groaned as she started put his balls in her mouth and sucked, hard. “But if you keep working me like that this is definitely gonna stop.”

She moaned hearing him fall apart above him- finally fulfilling her destiny. Making her Soldat happy.

“Fuck, Babydoll, you’re so good at this. Where the fuck did you learn this?” He asked, more to himself than to her, seeing as she started bobbing and swiveling her head. He wanted to put his hands in her hair, but ultimately decided not too. If he was gonna let this happen, it had to be at her pace.

She had never seen a cock in person but she knew he must be above average, her tongue counting 3 thick veins running up the sides and bottom of it. Trying to remember everything she saw the women in the videos doing and all the descriptions she read in the erotic literature, she hollowed her mouth around him and flattened her tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Fucking hell, Babydoll you’re doing so well for me. Y/n, shit.” She felt his cock touch the back of her throat and gagged around the intrusion. Spit mixed with precum rolling down her chin. When she looked up at him, her big eyes meeting his, he lost it. She could feel his cock harden just a little bit more, and his balls tightened, right before he released his heavy load into her throat. She backed up a little so it wouldn’t go straight down, she wanted to feel him on her tongue and taste him. Once she was sure she got every drop, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue a little so he could see his cum sitting on it before she swallowed it all with a soft moan.

“Did I do good, Sir?” She said, still sitting in front of him, his cock softening in her face as she watched the anatomy work in fascination. She reached her hand out to touch it, really appreciating the feel and warmth of his skin. He groaned loudly at the overstimulation and the sound of her normally smooth voice, now rough from the number she did on him.

“Fuck, Y/n, you did so good, Babydoll. You’re such a good girl.”

And in that moment he felt like he could pass out. He wanted to vomit because he looked down at her face and saw the innocence still in her eyes. Good girl. He remembered saying those words to her before. So long ago. He saw a flash of a memory of rubbing a little girl’s head before knocking her out. Carrying her to her house and tucking her in her bed, before stroking her face one last time and leaving. He remembered how Hydra fried him so hard after that mission, they were afraid they killed him. She looked different, older, but it was the same eyes. Definitely her. And there that same girl was, on her knees for him, and just gave him the best blowjob of his life.

He tucked himself back into his sweatpants. Part of him wanted to run away. He was ashamed of himself. He knew that he should have turned her down and left before anything could happen. He took advantage of her. But he also knew that if he just left now with no explanation, he would be an even bigger asshole. Times like that made him miss the simplicity of not having control over his life.

“Y/n, you did such a good job for me.” He stood her up, pulling her in for a bone crushing hug. This confused her, because she never saw the aftermath in her videos. It was always brutal and then the woman was just left there. But he was so gentle with her as he tenderly stroked her hair and lowered his lips to hers for a kiss.

It was the absolute least he could do. He wanted to kiss her- he wanted to reciprocate and make her see stars, but his mind was racing. Debating if it was a good time to tell her about their previous encounter, wondering if she remembered him and was acting, or if she had no idea that he’s the reason she was kidnapped. And even though he didn’t kill them, the reason her family is dead. Selfishly, he decided that it would be best if he told her another time. He hadn’t experienced intimacy like this in so long, and Y/n’s lips felt amazing on his.

He finally broke the kiss to give her air, knowing she doesn’t have the lung capacity he has. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” He asked, not wanting to rush her into anything else. He knew he’d be going to hell for it, but he needed to be around her.

“I would love to, Sir.” She said with the biggest smile her face could muster. He swore he’d never get tired of seeing that smile. Feeling her tits press against his chest through the thin cotton layers of both of their clothes. Hearing how she moaned just a little when he stroked her jaw. He could feel his brain going fuzzy from just the intoxicating proximity of their embrace as they hugged, swaying slightly and exchanging sweet kisses in between longing looks.

“Call me, Bucky.” He gently reminded her. For his sake, really- his self control couldn’t handle her constant submissive nature. “I’m gonna let you take that shower, and in the meantime, I’ll go order some take out. Do you like chinese?” He asked, putting some distance between them, to prevent her from noticing how he was getting hard all over again and dropping to her knees for round two.

“Chinese people? I don’t know any, but I’m sure they’re lovely.” She replied, a little confused by his strange question.

Part of him liked that he wasn’t the most clueless person in the compound anymore. When it came to texting and pop culture, he was useless, but Y/n was held in captivity. She didn’t have takeout, or dinner dates, or freedom to shower with nobody watching her. He would be able to teach her those things, and he liked that. Someone needing him for more than violence. Someone to take care of.

“I’ll just go order the food. I’ll be back soon, Babydoll. There should be shampoo and conditioner in the shower with towels and all types of other stuff. Just look around a bit.” He said before he walked out of her room. She had never experienced moisture between her thighs like she was in that moment, so a shower was probably a good idea.

Part 4

(if you wanna join my taglist, just let me know)

@austynparksandpizza @dracris33 @crzcorgi @musicheaux @little-moonbeam-666 @andydre4m @anakinravageme @hydrasbitches @bl4ckglitt3r @wondergirl556

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rivalsforlife · 3 years

Text

Phoenix Wright: The Truth Reborn: Oh No We’re Doing This Again

hi.

Nearly two months ago, I wrote an essay summarizing and making very wild conclusions about the second Takarazuka Musical. I did this about two and a half years after watching the first Takarazuka musical. As such I did not have the full context for many things from the musical and was relying mostly on my memory, which blocked many things from this musical for my own safety. However, just this week, I decided to rewatch it, because I enjoy tormenting myself. I said I wouldn’t write anything on it. Here I am writing something on it.

Here’s the youtube thumbnail so that you know what you’re getting yourself into. And here, of course, is the link. This is the HD version which may be slightly more pleasant to watch. Maybe.

It was not quite as cringe in a funny way as the second musical to me, and therefore this essay may be less funny, but I feel like I’m doing a disservice to people by providing a summary of the second musical while completely neglecting the first. Quite possibly doing this is even more of a disservice. I just eagerly await the day that the third musical is translated because *that* will be the day that I finally shuffle off this mortal coil. Either way, I want to write this stuff down so that I never have to watch the musical again out of curiosity.

The following essay will contain major spoilers for both the first and second Phoenix Wright Takarazuka musicals, as I will be using many points from this musical to argue my thesis of the second musical. ... like you were going to watch them anyways.

This one broke 8k. I’m dead inside.

Introducing The Director

Again another disclaimer that I don’t have anything against the actresses or the theatre troupe. I DO have something against Suzuki Kei, who I recently learned is the writer and director of all three of the Ace Attorney Takarazuka musicals, and is quite possibly my mortal nemesis.

This man is the one who brought this monstrosity into the world.

This man, allegedly, cleared the first four ace attorney games *seven times* before sitting down to write these musicals. He played these goddamn games seven times and did not take in a single word. The man clicked through them mindlessly while watching a badly written legal romance drama in the background and got them completely confused. I genuinely have no idea how this man could have played these games more times than even me and yet managed to get so many characters (MAYA!!!!) completely and utterly wrong. This haunts me every day, truly.

This man played Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Trials and Tribulations, and Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney seven times. SEVEN TIMES EACH!! and was told to create a musical based on the series. He played these games seven times each and you know what he said?? You know what he said?? “This sucks, I’m getting rid of all of Phoenix’s backstory, butchering half the characters, and writing Phoenix/Lana fanfiction, but also rewriting all of Lana’s backstory so that she was Phoenix’s childhood friend, and you know what, I’m changing her name for good measure.”

I think this man played the games seven times each and then hated it so much and was so sick of it he tried to write something that destroyed as much of the series as possible while still being vaguely recognizable. And then somehow it became a massive hit because people like me see this and go “what the actual hell” and watch it, or people who haven’t played the games see this and go “wow what a great musical!” and then he wrote TWO MORE, destroying EVEN MORE every time in his wake, until finally, finally, he stopped after making Edgeworth straight and time traveling into the past to face off against a corrupt Gregory. I guess that was the last straw.

I have to issue a disclaimer here that for legal reasons this is a joke. I don’t actually hate this man and would not punch him in the face if I met him because that would be rude, and he is entitled to his wrong interpretation of the games. I don’t know what his thought process was. But allegedly he did play the games seven times according to the wiki. This whole essay here is satire and not slander and I don’t want to offend this guy if he somehow stumbles across my nonsense tumblr post. At the same time: Suzuki Kei blink twice if you need help.

Anyways half the reason that I’m making this essay is because I want to share my fake ao3 page for this musical. The other half will become apparent later.

Sorry if that’s illegible because of tumblr quality it’s not really important. All you really need to know is that it’s a fake ao3 screenshot for the musical. Also in the author’s note I said he played the games four times but it was actually seven I just remembered wrong because I didn’t want to believe it.

at this point you may be like “Grace shut up and get to the actual musical” and okay, fine, let’s start this nonsense. Also note that I may be referencing things from my essay on the second musical very frequently; I’m not going to force you to go read that though because the fact that you’re reading this is enough of a torment already.

The Musical Begins

Unlike the second musical, this one opens with some narration from Phoenix.

Transcript:

Phoenix: I’m reviewing a particular case at the moment. To me, this case... is one I’ll never forget.

Immediately I think this is important because it establishes that this whole musical takes place in a flashback that Phoenix is reflecting on. Why is this important? Because we know, by the time of the second musical which takes place three years later, Leona is dead.

Knowing that Leona is inherently doomed to die of her Sad Woman Disease paints this whole musical in a different light. It’s not Phoenix reflecting on how he got back together with his lover; it’s Phoenix dwelling on their past together, and the opportunities they had, before her life was so cruelly and inexplicably taken away. We don’t know if Phoenix’s reminiscing takes place before or after Leona’s death... but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was after.

Phoenix, still in the present, starts to sing. “A wave appears on the horizon like a mirage, it trembles, then vanishes. Your voice, carried upon the waves, fades upon the shore, erasing the splendor of the past.”

This line actually shows up in the second musical, sung by Lucia about her imprisoned fiance quite possibly. It’s kind of hard to tell what the meaning of these songs even are. They’re too abstract for me I think. But this line appears very frequently in the first musical when Phoenix is thinking about Leona.

Then we enter the flashback time.

Phoenix inexplicably yells at a newspaper saleswoman. This is not relevant to anything whatsoever. Then Larry barges in to the office, looking for Maya. Phoenix describes him as “A real trouble maker, but you just can’t hate the guy”, the latter part of which I think many people would disagree with.

Well, afterwards, Maya comes in. Phoenix describes her like this while making exaggerated “can you believe this shit” gestures.

Transcript:

Phoenix: She’s as ditzy as they come. Oh, and about the outfit... Apparently she comes from a family of spirit mediums. Try not to make fun of her, okay?

Suzuki Kei personally has it out for Maya and I can never forgive him for it. Maya in these musicals is here for pure comedic relief but it’s not even comedic because I just get so angry. How can you play the trilogy seven times and think this about her?? The girl who figured out DL-6?? The girl who told Phoenix to sacrifice her life in order to find the truth?? The girl who put on a brave smile in order to try and cheer up her younger cousin even after she saw her own mother murdered right in front of her eyes?? That Maya Fey?? Ditzy as they come??????

Ugh. Moving on.

Maya and Larry run off, leaving Phoenix to watch the American Broadcast.

Important things to note here are the Godot mug, the little line up of what I think are the messed up little ace attorney figurines beneath the screen, and the fact that while this broadcast is supposedly from and to America the screen is actually not at all showing America. Like literally almost everywhere in the world except North and South America.

The broadcast says that Leona Clyde, age 24, was arrested for murdering the senator Robert Cole! Leona Clyde -- that’s Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend! He runs off to the detention center.

She is not happy to see him.

Leona: Mr. Wright... I’m not the woman you once knew.

Let’s Play A Matching Game

Sorry for the abundance of screenshots that are going to be throughout this section. Phoenix convinces Leona to let him defend her. Some of the conversation seems... familiar.

Leona: No one would defend someone who admits to killing a senator. I’m waiting for a court-appointed attorney.

Edgeworth: Every defense attorney I’ve talked to has turned me down.

Phoenix: In that case, let me defend you.

Game Phoenix: Let me defend you.

Leona: Don’t be ridiculous!

Edgeworth: Don’t be ridiculous.

Phoenix: I’ll never accept that you’re a murderer. Let me prove your innocence!

Game Phoenix: Huh? Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to prove that Miles Edgeworth is innocent.

Leona: I’ve already confessed my guilt.

Gumshoe: He confessed that he did it! In court!

Leona: It’s foolish to think you can win this case.

Edgeworth: My case is near hopeless, Wright.

Leona: (in response to phoenix offering to defend her) No you won’t! Don’t ever come here again.

Edgeworth: Look, just go away, and leave me alone!

Phoenix: You of all people should know. Once I decide to do something, I see it through to the end.

Edgeworth: Once you start on something, you always see it through, don’t you?

Leona: I never thought that you’d be representing me.

Phoenix: Ah, who could have guessed this day would come?

Edgeworth: Not me.

Phoenix: You believed in me. You saved me. And this time, I swear... I swear I’ll save you!

Game Phoenix: Edgeworth believed in me, and I believe in him. I’m the only one who knows the real Edgeworth. I’m the only one who can help him.

I could’ve done a few more, but tumblr is already threatening to murder my laptop.

So long story short, Phoenix manages to convince his lover to let him be the defense on the case. Then immediately after swearing to save Leona, he starts singing a song, which I’m not screencapping because this is enough:

“As long as there are people in this world, there’s only one path I will follow! As long as there is love in this world, there’s only one path I will believe in!”

Edgeworth sings this in the second musical after saying that he returned to California because of Phoenix. Phoenix sings it now after swearing to defend Leona. You draw your own conclusions.

And then we finally get the opening credits. Eleven minutes in.

Just Pretend This Is Narumitsu Fanfiction

Following the credits, we see a beautiful beach. Couples (exclusively heterosexual, of course,) dance and embrace in the background for some time, before revealing Phoenix and Leona, in the Even Further Past, before the LSATs or whatever the ace attorney universe’s excuse for law school exams are.

Phoenix establishes his absolute hatred of change, an important characterization moment.

Phoenix: The view here never changes, huh?

Phoenix reminisces on when they were kids. Leona’s parents were both lawyers (they’re both lawyers) and sometimes they would be like lawyers with her when she was a kid. This inspired her to also become a lawyer after their tragic death of Sickness. They never specify what the sickness is that caused two people who must be relatively young to die while Leona was in her early twenties at the latest. It may be whatever sickness claimed Leona’s life later. Sad Woman Disease. (Sad Man Disease for her father, I guess?)

Phoenix also talks about why he’s becoming a lawyer.

Phoenix: Watching you chase your dream inspired me to become a lawyer too.

So, it’s not “my childhood friend looked sad in a newspaper” because I guess that makes no sense or is too gay or something. But this is another important piece of Phoenix characterization. His entire life so far has been focused around Leona. They’ve been friends since they were kids, and then Phoenix decided to become a lawyer solely because Leona was becoming a lawyer. Not even to try and get back into contact with her after she moved away or anything; just because he’s so obsessed with her that he wants to have the same career as her, then they can run a Mom & Pop Law Firm or something, years in the future, after years of happy marriage and a few children or like whatever the hell.

Well, there’s a few steps they’ll need to get to that. At this point Phoenix still hasn’t confessed his feelings for Leona. He does so here, on this beach.

Leona tries to protest.

Leona: But I’m pushy, selfish, and only care about my goals... You’d get fed up with me.

Phoenix: That’s what I’ve always admired about you. That’s who I’ve been chasing all these years. That’s the only person... I love.

Sooo, Phoenix, your type is pushy selfish people who only care about their goals...? In the first, older lower-quality video translation it was “only care about my work”, too. Hm. Things to think about.

They sing a little duet together. Then we go back to present-day of what’s technically still a flashback. Whatever. Murder is happening.

Back To The Murder

So some plot things to establish: Leona is the legal counsel of Governor Miller, who is running for president in the AMERICAN PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. After the flashback so that Phoenix has some time to change clothes, they show an interview of him talking about the murder.

Governor Miller: I vow to forge a peaceful country with my own two hands, and to prepare myself for whatever may lie ahead.

Reporters: Through thick and thin, he’s a friend of the people!

The Takarazuka musicals are not very good at hiding their killers.

Phoenix: Oh yeah... It’s almost time for the presidential election, isn’t it?

NEVER FORGET, WRIGHT. THIS IS AMERICA. LAND OF THE FREE! god what even was that line.

Anyways, we meet Gumshoe, who is incompetent once again. Maya runs around the crime scene, picks up the murder weapon, puts her fingerprints all over everything, moves things around, all while Phoenix is like “lol get a load of the world’s stupidest girl” or whatever. But who cares about that.

It’s time to get to the only valid part of this musical.

Edgeworth’s Gay Little Villain Solo

You may have seen this one before.

Edgeworth arrives, but not really. It’s like Phoenix heard Edgeworth was prosecuting and immediately entered a dream-like state, where Edgeworth is heralded by the sound of trumpets in Great Revival. He’s played by a different actress than in the other two musicals, since I think she retired in between the six or so months from this musical to the second. She still plays the role well, though, or as well as can be when you’re written in an ace attorney Takarazuka musical.

Shrouded in scarlet solitude... it’s Edgeworth.

Yes, those are six Edgeworths. Yes, they pick Phoenix up and carry him around and dance with him. Yes, it was probably not meant to be at all homoerotic.

He sings a song that’s called “My rule”. I only figured this out later, but it’s loosely based on a “catchphrase” of his in the Japanese version - in game 1 he says something along the lines of “All I can do is get every defendant declared guilty! So I make that my policy.” In DD in his dramatic anime introduction before the trial, he says “I intend to question the defendant with all I have. For that is a part of my creed.” “So I make that my policy” and “For that is a part of my creed”, to my understanding, are both translated from the same line, which I think is like, “sore ga watashi no ruru”, “That is my rule.” (If I’m wrong, please correct me.) In this song he sings about how he’ll reduce all criminals to ash and such, basically talks about his game 1 prosecuting strategy as “my rule”.

It’s very fun and probably if you want to only watch one number of this musical, it can be this one. It starts about 26:10 in the video I linked.

Once the musical number is done, Phoenix and Edgeworth stare at each other, and the background fades into the courtroom, so court begins. I feel like I should note that Phoenix has not picked up any evidence or talked to any witnesses in this investigation except for Gumshoe, since Maya just moved some things around and then Phoenix had some weird fever dream about Edgeworth which presumably took up the rest of the day.

The Trial, Day 1

Edgeworth: Consider it a prelude to the poignant Greek tragedy that’s about to unfold.

Maya: The real tragedy’s your pompous attitude!

Those are the only screenshots I took of this trial day. Here’s a summary, though:

The trial starts off with Leona confessing, Phoenix says “no I think she’s innocent”, and since ace attorney doesn’t care about the defendant’s wishes he’s allowed to proceed. For some reason Leona lets him do this without complaint.

Gumshoe is the first witness, he claims to have caught Leona red-handed at the scene of the crime, standing over the corpse. Phoenix tries to claim that since Gumshoe didn’t see Leona committing the crime, he didn’t actually catch her red-handed, to which Edgeworth responds “What do you think being caught red-handed means?”

Once Gumshoe is dismissed, Lotta takes the stand. She has a photo of the actual moment of the crime, where Leona is holding a knife in the air in front of the victim.

The Takarazuka musicals like to do this thing where the image is blurry and zoomed out, but then Phoenix will go “I’VE NOTICED A CONTRADICTION” and it zooms in really far as the resolution increases drastically in order to show you the contradiction that is impossible to spot for yourself, because they don’t want people figuring out the mystery in this musical based off of a video game where you have to solve the mystery yourself. Anyways Phoenix zooms in on this photo and sees that there’s blood on Leona’s hand, presumably before she stabbed the victim. How did it get there?

Edgeworth suggests the victim was stabbed multiple times. Phoenix says the autopsy report contradicts that. Edgeworth, uncharacteristically, does not update it to suit his argument.

Phoenix concludes that this photo is not showing the moment Leona stabbed the victim, but the moment Leona removed the knife! ... Which somehow casts doubt on her having been the one to stab the victim. Because as everyone knows, anyone wanting to kill someone would never remove a knife, it’s not like they’d bleed out faster that way, or anything.

And this whole contradiction is confusing because presumably if the victim was stabbed and then the knife was removed, they’d know that happened, because then the knife would not be found stuck in the victim’s body, since the victim was only stabbed once. So this shouldn’t be news to the prosecution that someone removed the knife after stabbing. But the investigation was headed by the most incompetent version of Gumshoe ever, so. sure. I guess no one knew.

That at least manages to extend the trial another day.

This Totally Has To Be Illegal

After the trial, Phoenix goes to talk to Governor Miller, aka Mr. Totally The Real Killer. Phoenix asks him why he decided to hire Leona as his legal advisor.

Basically, it’s because her parents were both renowned lawyers. Her father was a Chief Prosecutor, and her mother was a defense attorney. ... a prosecutor and a defense attorney couple... who does that remind us of...

Phoenix points out that just because her parents were good lawyers, it doesn’t mean she’d necessarily be one. Miller says that, sure, but she is actually really talented, and her law school marks were spectacular. Phoenix says “WHY WERE YOU LOOKING AT HER LAW SCHOOL MARKS”, like it’s somehow? suspicious? for a government official hiring legal counsel to look at their law school marks?

Apparently it IS suspicious because Governor Miller freaks out and asks if this is an interrogation. Before Phoenix can press much further, he gets a phone call, and leaves Phoenix alone in a big room.

So naturally Phoenix behaves like a fully grown adult running a law firm.

If all he did was sit in the chair, lift up a desk lamp, and poke his finger on a pen, that’s one thing. But then he leans over, OPENS THE GOVERNOR’S DESK DRAWER, and finds a knife that’s just sitting there casually. It looks like a butter knife. It’s not anything major. Maybe the dude just wanted to butter his toast?

I mean I know Phoenix will dig around in stuff whenever in the games, but he has no reason to suspect Governor Miller at all, much less dig through his drawer probably full of confidential government documents to lift up a knife that he thinks is suspicious. It’s not even covered in blood or anything?

Naturally Governor Miller’s assistant comes in just then, and Phoenix puts the knife. in his breast pocket.

bud. It may look like a butter knife, but putting knives up against your chest is not a great idea. Much less stealing a knife from a governor?

Well, in his panic, he accidentally knocks over a bunch of books on the desk. The governor’s assistant helps him pick them up, and they find a photo. Look a little familiar?

The photo has the assistant, the victim Robert Cole, Governor Miller, and the victim’s brother who died in an incident two years ago. He’s the “Neil Marshall” of this musical, and he died in what was essentially the SL-9 incident. Same general premise, except it occurred in the courthouse, and the names are different.

AND FINALLY WE REACH THE END OF ACT 1. They do a musical number here which is a weird sort of mashup of the main opening credits song, Edgeworth’s Villain Solo, and the love duet between Phoenix and Leona. They are all such different songs that it sounds a little weird.

ACT 2, FINALLY

The act begins on a sour note with Maya playing with the knife and showing off her characterization, which is one of the most infuriating Maya characterizations you’ll sometimes see around the fandom by people who don’t like Maya.

Maya: Let me whip up my special spirit channeler hamburgers!

sigh.

But then we’re saved (?) by the arrival of EDGEWORTH, who is presumably just here to chat. He asks Phoenix if he’s defending Leona in hopes of winning her back, then says to keep out of it, since it’s a very important case and he can’t understand the gravity of it.

Then Phoenix says this.

Phoenix: Would you be saying that if you were the one on trial? The defendant is in a dark prison, reaching out for hope... Can you imagine the loneliness and sorrow of being ostracized?

CAN YOU IMAGINE IT, EDGEWORTH? CAN YOU IMAGINE IF YOU WERE ON TRIAL AND I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD DEFEND YOU AND BELIEVED IN YOUR INNOCENCE??

Edgeworth responds to this by essentially rehashing his speech in Turnabout Sisters about how he needs to find all defendants guilty because he can’t guarantee their innocence and all that. Maya gets upset and leaves so that Phoenix and Edgeworth can talk about their childhood in private.

Phoenix once again complains about how people change since nine years old.

Phoenix then says that he has something Edgeworth doesn’t: the POWER TO BELIEVE! Then Maya comes in and tries to spike Edgeworth’s coffee, so he leaves.

The Class Trial

Phoenix explains a bit about Edgeworth and his backstory to Maya. Namely, the class trial. Phoenix was accused of stealing lunch money, Edgeworth stood up for him, but instead of Larry, Leona stood up for him. I guess Suzuki Kei thought “oh the class trial, if Leona stood up for him, it would be so romantic, because she’s a woman, and he’s a man”, or something like that.

Edgeworth wanted to become a Great Lawyer Like His Father! But then he turned cold as ice.

Phoenix: His father got too deeply involved in a case... and paid for it with his life. Edgeworth saw him murdered. He was never the same again. I bet he couldn’t forgive the criminal.

Yeah I bet he couldn’t ever forgive the person he thought killed his father all these years, Phoenix. I bet he really hates that person, Phoenix. I bet he has nightmares about that person killing his father or something, Phoenix.

Phoenix: He vanished, then returned without his mercy or compassion. He had become a monster. When he lost his father, he also lost the ability to believe in others.

So like... one of the most chilling things about this musical is that they never actually solve DL-6. This probably roughly takes place 15 years after DL-6, since they were about the same age when the class trial started, and at least Leona is 24 now. The next musical takes place three years from now, and in it, Edgeworth refers to von Karma as his mentor, implying he’s still around and doing things.

So, in addition to everything else going wrong with this musical, DL-6 still happens, but von Karma never frames Edgeworth for it fifteen years later. The statute of limitations runs out, and von Karma forever gets away with his crime. And Edgeworth has no idea.

What changes did they make to DL-6, though, you may ask? I’m desperate to know as well. In the third musical, which I’ve watched because I hate myself but am unable to fully understand because I don’t know much Japanese, there is a scene where Miles flashbacks to DL-6. It’s abstract, but he makes gun-throwing motions at Gregory, followed by a gunshot sound.

Therefore, in this musical’s internal canon, either Miles Edgeworth shot his father, or he believes he did for the rest of his life.

... moving on.

Phoenix: But he still has his humanity. It’s still there, deep down inside!

At least, if nothing else, Phoenix still believes in him. Even this Takarazuka Musical couldn’t touch that.

The Feenie Sweater

Right after this, Larry barges in, and Phoenix leaves him alone with Maya. The musical tries teasing Larry/Maya, but fortunately, Maya’s having none of it.

Maya: You’re barking up the wrong tree.

Props to this musical for not being as bad as it could have been.

After this, the two sit down on the couch, and Maya asks for more gossip on Phoenix and Leona. Larry launches into a story, which turns into a flashback that ends up being narrated by Phoenix halfway through. This one’s about Phoenix and Leona’s relationship.

This is an interesting line in here, “I’ll guide you to the future”, for it loosely referencing the sort of love ballad Phoenix sings with Lucia in the second musical which is about “I’ll take you to that radiant future”, and he later sings to the memory of Leona right around the time of his big spiral into despair.

I’m sorry if you haven’t read my other essay and just said “wait what” to what I just typed.

Leona was getting ready to move to New York to defend the weak “in the big city”. This is rather strange wording because it implies that California does not in fact have a big city. She says some things in her conversation with Phoenix that probably plant some of his later issues.

Leona: This is the first time we’ll be apart since we were kids.

Leona: We promised we’d always be together.

Leona: I’ll be waiting. Waiting for you to come to me.

Haha. Sure would be a shame... if something were to happen... and they wouldn’t be able to be together anymore...

So some dancers wearing black come in and take off their outer jackets, to symbolize the passage of time. They circle around Phoenix and Leona. In this, you can just barely see, Phoenix is wearing a pink sweater beneath his jacket.

“Oh,” I think to myself, “Is that the Feenie sweater? Are they including it here as a reference to the games?”

Then the dancers keep moving.

THAT IS NOT THE FEENIE SWEATER. That is a pink sweater with a sexily drawn woman on it.

This is the other half of the reason why I decided to go through with making this essay.

This is so incredibly funny to me. Suzuki Kei Who Has Played The Games Seven Times has seen the hand-knit bright pink sweater with a giant red heart on it seven times. The sweater Iris, Phoenix’s girlfriend, lovingly knit for him that he wears all the time even though it is one of the tackiest, cheesiest items of clothing to ever exist. And so, when the costume designers were designing the clothes for College Phoenix Wright, they asked themselves: “Should we include the Feenie sweater?”

and “NO,” someone must have shouted, “NO, we can NOT include the Feenie sweater, it is PINK and it has a HEART on it and it’s TOO GIRLY. Phoenix Wright is a MANLY MAN. He would not EVER wear something PINK with a HEART on it.”

“BUT,” someone else said, “it’s a REFERENCE to the original games, where he DID wear a pink sweater with a heart on it! We MUST include it to pander to the fans!”

“WAIT,” a third person interjected. “I have a BRILLIANT IDEA. We can keep the pink... But to make it VERY CLEAR he is a heterosexual, masculine male... we put a sexy woman on it.”

And Person Three Got A Raise.

Thank god we’re finally halfway done this musical.

We Just Have To Go On With Our Lives Now

There’s plot or something happening. Leona breaks up with Phoenix inexplicably over the phone. Probably because of that freaking sweater. Imagine wearing that. God.

Eventually we go back to Phoenix talking to Leona, and he asks about the Jack Lyon case, which is the rip-off version of the Joe Darke case. Leona is pretty cagey about it, but Phoenix proves that she was there in the gallery that day. Leona refuses to answer, claims again that she killed the victim in her case, and leaves.

This makes Phoenix sad, so he starts singing.

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

If this sounds familiar, it’s the part where I started absolutely losing my mind in the second musical because this line had never shown up before then, I’d forgotten it was in this musical, and Phoenix was screaming it alone in a red room, so I thought he was like desperately resorting to a necromancy ritual in hopes of bringing Leona back to life.

Instead, this line actually has CONTEXT, though it does just end up enforcing my theory. This is Phoenix mourning what he used to have with Leona, wanting to bring the “old her” back, because he’s devastated that people sometimes change. There are several flashbacks of their college days where he’s wearing his Sexy Woman Sweater. He does succeed in winning her back at the end of this musical. Before she dies, of course.

Phoenix in musical 2 still believes that he can bring back what he used to have with Leona... even beyond death. That’s something affirmed by this musical. I’m very grateful to it for somehow managing to enforce my nonsensical theory.

Doctor Ema

After this, Phoenix returns to his office, and meets with someone new.

That’s right! Only now, halfway through the musical, do we actually get to meet the Ema-equivalent to Leona’s Lana-equivalent. Her name is Monica Clyde. She has little rainbow heart stickers on her briefcase, which is the closest thing this musical has to acknowledging that gay people exist.

But what does this little briefcase contain, you may ask? Scientific investigation tools? No.

A full surgical toolset. Because you never know when someone’ll get sick, or when someone will need an entire operation in front of you. I guess.

So yes, Monica Clyde is not a forensic scientist in training, but a doctor! She decided to become a doctor because of her parents, who passed away of The Sickness, and so became a doctor in order to save lives like theirs.

Once more this has much darker and deeper implications than the musical is even aware of, because Monica is so anxious about treating sick people that she carries a full surgical toolset around with her at all times, scared to lose someone like she lost her parents... and then sometime in the next three years, Leona, her big sister, is going to die.

Of what? The strange Sickness that claimed her parents? A car accident? A botched spur-of-the-moment surgery? Whatever it is, Monica was unable to save her, even when she’d been training her entire life for it.

Monica is not mentioned at all throughout the second musical. It’s as if she does not exist.

Because unlike Ema of Rise From The Ashes, Monica is not at the heart of this story. She is, primarily, a plot device here to make Leona not trust Phoenix so that he can angst about their relationship.

What a mess this world is.

The Trial, Part 2

Rather than try to prove Leona’s innocence, Phoenix wants to link the current case to not-SL-9, the Jack Lyon case. He does this by showing this picture.

Senator Cole, the victim, is in this picture. His younger brother whose name I’ve forgotten, the victim of not-SL-9, is also in this picture. They are brothers. It is apparently novel that they are in the same picture, and somehow makes their cases linked.

As well, Governor Miller is in the picture. I guess you could say like... Governor Miller’s legal counsel is the defendant, so that’s another link? Even though the Governor would presumably know a Senator, so this isn’t an unusual group. Right now Phoenix has absolutely nothing to prove that these two cases are linked other than “hey, these two victims are brothers”, but apparently it works. So they spend a lot of time talking about not-SL-9, since Leona has confessed to the murder on day 1 and there is absolutely nothing indicating that she can’t be immediately declared guilty.

They hid the fact that Monica was a hostage in this not-SL-9, meaning that some of the case records were forged. Here’s Edgeworth’s reaction when this comes out.

Edgeworth: This is an outrage! I’m the most influential prosecutor in America! There’s nothing I don’t know!

In RFTA, when Edgeworth learns he’d been using forged evidence to give a man the death penalty, he is devastated, his entire worldview is shaken, he sees himself as a monster who could end up becoming horribly corrupt if he isn’t stopped.

Musical Edgeworth goes “I DIDN’T KNOW SOMETHING???”

It’s certainly strange characterization, but I guess Edgeworth is further behind in his character arc than in RFTA, so... ugh. Fine.

Phoenix calls Monica out as a witness to prove she was involved in the case. This causes Leona to panic, and try to dismiss Phoenix as her attorney, like Lana in RFTA, but Edgeworth interjects to call Monica in anyways. He and Phoenix have a little moment.

Edgeworth: You said to believe in others. I suppose I’ll try believing in you. Try to keep up.

Phoenix: Edgeworth!

So Monica comes to the stand to testify. We get to see this picture of Monica being held hostage, and not-Joe-Darke’s incredible eyeliner.

Lots of it is very similar to the actual RFTA, except instead of the victim being stabbed on the knight with the giant knife, he’s instead stabbed with a regular old knife. Leona still refuses to admit to what really happened, until Edgeworth convinces her to believe in Phoenix.

Edgeworth: Your attorney is a runaway train with a one-track mind. Yet he placed all of his faith in you. Believe in him. You owe him that much.

Leona testifies, and says that when she found the victim, he was stabbed with a scalpel.

Here is where things get weird.

Scalpels Can’t Kill People

So basically earlier in this trial, they talk about how Leona knew that the knife that stabbed the victim was double-edged despite being buried in his chest. The judge questions if this means Leona killed him, but Phoenix is quick to say no, she was searched when she entered the courthouse and couldn’t have concealed a knife.

Yet, Monica was able to bring in her surgical toolkit which contains several sharp knives, scalpels, scissors, etc.

This is the first major contradiction.

Leona continues to say that when she found Monica, and the scalpel stabbed in the victim, she also ran into Governor Miller, who if you haven’t been able to tell yet is the Gant-equivalent of this musical. He offered to help her with the cover-up, etc.

The next bit goes a lot like RFTA. Phoenix accuses Governor Miller, who barges in, says Phoenix has the decisive evidence in his pocket. This is the “butter knife” that Phoenix took from his office when he dug around in confidential documents and stole it for no particular reason. It has Monica’s fingerprints on it! ... And Phoenix’s and Maya’s too probably because they were handling it without gloves, but they don’t mention that part.

Leona cries about how she shouldn’t have trusted Phoenix because he was apparently now blaming Monica, Monica looks terrified, she and Leona have some good sister moments but it’s not as good as it could be if the story was actually about Leona and Monica like how RFTA was about Lana and Ema. But Phoenix has the decisive piece of evidence that can turn this around.

It is this:

Phoenix: Scalpels are made for medical incisions, not stabbings. So how did it stab the victim?

...

... What?

So like. Yes, scalpels are made for medical incisions. Medical incisions often involve cutting through flesh, very easily. As a result, they are sharp. Extremely sharp. As in: their purpose is literally to stab people, very specifically.

Yes, they’re easier to control, so that surgeons don’t regularly stab people how they’re not supposed to be stabbed, but it’s not like, impossible to stab someone in a killing way with a scalpel? Admittedly, I have never tried to kill someone using a scalpel. And I do not have experience using a scalpel for surgeries because I am not a surgeon. But I’m pretty sure, if you take a sharp scalpel, and you stab someone in the chest with it with a reasonable amount of force... they die.

Like, is this a particular kind of scalpel that is not very sharp? Is the problem that the blade doesn’t match up with the initial wound? But even then, we don’t have the original unforged autopsy report or even a picture, so how would Phoenix know what the original wound looked like to say it didn’t match up? And even then why wouldn’t Phoenix say that instead of SCALPELS CAN’T STAB PEOPLE???

This is his decisive contradiction and it makes ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE TO ME!!!

Well Darn I Guess Scalpels Can’t Kill People

This is such a decisive piece of evidence, that scalpels can’t kill people, coming from the man who thought “caught red-handed” does not involve being caught standing over a corpse with blood on your hands, that it causes Governor Miller to confess.

Unlike Gant, who created the murder with Neil Marshall both to ensure that there was decisive evidence to convict Joe Darke, a serial killer who had not left any decisive evidence behind, and gain control over the prosecutor’s office in order to pull similar stunts to get criminals convicted using false evidence, Governor Miller does not have that as his motive. After all, he’s not a police officer. Instead, he ended up accidentally killing not-Joe-Darke, and then set up the incident in order to get Leona on his side. As her parents were both influential lawyers and very respectable, having her and her parents’ reputation on his side could help him become President of America Where This Takes Place.

So, let’s just take a moment to run over some of the things that made the original Rise From The Ashes great, in my opinion. Just for fun.

1 - The heart of the story between the Skye sisters. Lana closing off to protect Ema, Ema wanting to get through to her sister and get back to the way things used to be. Phoenix, in this story, is more of a bystander to this plotline rather than in the heart of it himself.

2 - Edgeworth’s Character Development. Basically RFTA creates an interesting transition between Turnabout Goodbyes and JFA. It causes Edgeworth to re-evaluate everything he knows about being a prosecutor. So quickly on the heels of Turnabout Goodbyes, it crushes the last bit of hope in him. It compares him to Gant, who also hates criminals, and forces him to wonder if his hatred of crime will one day lead to him being a criminal himself. He’s already convicted one person on forged evidence; how many others could there be?

3 - The Ends Justify The Means. ... wait come back, don’t leave. What I found neat about this case was also Gant’s motive. At one point he was presumably an honest person who hated crime and wanted to stop criminals. But over time in the police force, he became corrupted. He wanted to have all criminals convicted. So what do you do when you don’t have the evidence to convict them? Joe Darke was a serial killer who has killed several people and may have killed more if he’d gone free. The only way to stop and convict him was by using forged evidence. Other criminals could hide evidence to get away with their crimes, so people like Gant would make it up to catch them; but then when do you stop? What happens if there’s no evidence because someone is truly innocent? When does the line between “this person is a criminal and I want to stop them” and “I just want to convict everyone I’m dealing with” become blurred? This is also something he shares with Edgeworth and helps to advance his character.

All three of these things are either lessened or outright ignored in this musical. Leona and Monica’s story takes a backseat to Phoenix and Leona’s Love Story, with Monica only showing up halfway through, and mainly as an excuse as to why Leona is withdrawn. Edgeworth doesn’t seem to blame himself for the forged evidence he used, and doesn’t have a crisis questioning his morality over it. And Governor Miller’s motive is purely power. Unlike Gant, who would have become Chief of Police whether he solved SL-9 or not, Miller needed Leona to win the presidency. And instead of asking her to help him with his campaign like a normal person, he just blackmailed her instead.

... How do you play the games seven times and miss this much?

The Case Finally Ends

god. we’re almost there.

The case ends, Leona is declared not guilty but will still face trial for covering up murders and such. Probably less of a sentence than Lana because she was not involved in ongoing police corruption? Either way she’s dead in three years, so she’s got something a bit more concerning coming up.

She’s led away. Phoenix sings a bit about Leona before being interrupted by Edgeworth... who has something important to tell him.

Edgeworth: You awakened within me those once-cherished emotions I had discarded. I see visions of a distant, nostalgic past.

So basically this is the unnecessary feelings of the musical. Something along the lines of “seeing you again and fighting for my former ideals is making me question many things about myself.”

How does Phoenix respond?

Phoenix: Edgeworth... Try talking normally for a chance.

Sure, we were all thinking it, but that’s a little cold, Phoenix.

Edgeworth tries a smooth recovery.

Edgeworth: I don’t do... idle chit-chat.

This doesn’t accomplish much. So he leaves to allow Leona to visit with Phoenix alone. He’s got to go change for something more important coming up.

Leona and Phoenix decide that they’re going to get back together once Leona is done her sentence! They make a promise that is very funny if you know she’ll be dead in three years.

Phoenix: I’ll be waiting. For you.

There are a lot of hugs here, I’m not screencapping them all. There are also several moments where their faces get very close together and like, their nose brushes the other’s cheek or something, but they never actually kiss. Is it because the actresses weren’t comfortable with it (valid), or they thought kissing would be too much for the musical (sure, whatever), or since both characters are played by women the show staff did not want two women kissing on stage (probably the real answer)? I don’t like watching kisses, but I kept bracing myself for one and then it never happened, so.

Phoenix ends the main part of the musical with one last musical number starring my personal favourite piece:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I like to think that at this point, this is present-day Phoenix, after finishing his reminiscing, still desperately wishing he could bring Leona back from death.

But alas, he cannot. And so, after one last daydream of them dancing together on the beaches of California, singing about their love, the musical ends.

Dance Time!

This starts at exactly the two hour mark, if you’re interested in watching what is, once again, one of the only fun parts of this musical.

Seriously, Edgeworth’s actress kills it here, when I first saw this I went “oh, this is why I saw so many people being gay for her on twitter.”

Edgeworth’s song is an encore of “My Rule”, so it’s lots of fun. Afterwards Phoenix gets another fun piece.

Then we get to the love ballad part, which I can probably overanalyze, I feel like I haven’t done enough ridiculous over-analyzing in this essay in comparison to the other.

Uhhh so the fog represents how Phoenix feels lost in this world without Leona. You can see it in the second screenshot separating the two of them, representing the barrier of death between the two of them. Idk it’s midnight I’m getting worn out from having to think about this musical for so long.

But his mourning over Leona’s death becomes even more apparent in the credits, where Phoenix sings that one line again:

Phoenix: I want to bring you back! I believe in you.

I’m not fixing that screenshot, I think it’s oddly fitting, in a way. That’s me right now.

Then at the very end, he sings this song.

Phoenix: I’ll spend... this eternal life... soaring through... the heavens!

Technically, this refers to his name Phoenix, but let’s dig a little deeper. He spends the rest of his life soaring through the heavens... the heavens that Leona went to after her untimely death, perhaps?

Overall, the musical becomes much more interesting when you just see it as a prequel to the second musical. This musical establishes many core concepts of Phoenix’s character: his refusal to believe in the concept of things changing, for one, and also his extreme dependency on Leona who he was never separated from since they were kids and where he based his entire life around her dreams and ideals. All he can think about is her. And in the end, he promises to wait for her in California.

Yet, to paraphrase Miles Edgeworth, all that is waiting for him is her death. Their dream of opening up a Mom & Pop Law Firm will never come true.

Thanks again for bearing with me even though this wasn’t as funny!

#ace attorney #phoenix wright the truth reborn #idk maybe someone wanted to know what the first musical was like without actually watching it?#my essays #my posts #i'm TIRED i'm going to BED goodNIGHT #this is less funny jokes and more actually criticizing the musical #because so much of this is like. wow. you really thought that was a good idea huh #just skip to the feenie sweater part honestly that's the funniest part of this musical

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