... hey... y'all... hey </3
Originally wasn't going to post anything until I could update the main demo again but I've been getting a lot of messages so...
Speedrun Challenge:
No, the game is not abandoned!
I have been avoiding social media for various reasons
The Chapter 2 Twine Version has been out for a while. I forgot to announce it here, but it's on Patreon for free. You can play it here. There's a bug w/ meeting Amilia where info gets mixed, so warning for that.
It's not on the main demo b/c the interlude in-between Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 is unfinished.
Chapter 3 is nearing 50% completion.
The next update on the main demo will include the interlude and add Chapter 2 to be properly added.
Bi-weekly to weekly word counts are resuming from today, whether it's a lot or a little. 🧎🏻 And thank you to everyone who sent kind wishes! Ngl life was beating me up pretty consistently for a long while but I finally have some stability going on again.
(Spoilers beneath. Shows Scene Breakdown from old Demo and where scenes are at progress wise for Twine. It has spoilers for anything past Chapter 1. Red is not worked on, yellow is in progress, green is finished.)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Asexual x Consent King x Touch Starved x Hurt/Comfort x Cuddling x Asexual Experimenting x Angst x Romantic x Frotting
(Asexual feels comfortable enough to try sex with their partner as requested by commissioner)
“Oh,” Vere muttered as they rounded the corner. “When did that get there?” They were supposed to be looking for some grocer a friend told them about, a place with amazing plums. Instead, there was a building that looked like a Victorian manor, but with signage and display up. It was a place one would remember seeing in their town. Or at least someone going ‘hey, that old place that looks like a Victorian manor’, but no. This place was entirely new to Vere, no matter how old it looked.
‘Robin’s Nest’ the sign read, antiques and more. On the steps up there were planters filled with overflowing flowers and foliage, small snow globes tucked into them where they could fit. The doors to the shop were wide open, letting in the fall leaves that fluttered in the wind.
“Welcome!” a short, very pale woman said as she was trotting out with a broom. “There’s fresh coffee and snacks right over there! Help yourself, I’ll be right back.” She smiled brightly as she set to work, trying to shoo the fall leaves back outside. She looked like a porcelain doll, and the broom somehow looked too big for her.
The scent of coffee brought Vere back to their senses, as it reminded them of walking into their grandmother’s home. Or well…their grandmother’s home when she was still alive. They stepped over to the table, admiring the spread of cookies and the small glass door fridge, revealing rows of flavored creamers.
“What is this place?” Vere muttered, taking a shortbread cookie.
“Welcome!” Another booming voice scared them and they almost coughed up that first bite of cookie. “Looking for something? I know this place may be huge and daunting, but I can help you find the exact item you’re looking for.”
The man behind the counter was wearing an outfit that matched the woman from before. Uniforms? Or were they just being cute?
Vere covered their mouth with a napkin. “Just looking.” They swallowed hard. “I was actually looking for a grocer. I didn’t know this place existed.”
The man smiled. He, too, was short, had a dark complexion and very curly hair. “That’s often how the best places find you, isn’t it?” He gave them an up and down look that made Vere a touch uncomfortable.
They tugged on the hem of their long tank top. “Umm…sure.”
The man lit up, eyes going wide, while his mouth formed a gasp. “I know you!” He suddenly. “Gloria’s grandkid. Right? Vere.”
It wasn’t just surprise that crackled through their system like electricity. It was also joy. Someone who knew their grandmother?
“Yeah! Yeah! She talked about you a lot. She said you’d eventually inherit her place one day. So how do you like the decor? Gloria bought a thing or two from me back in the day!” He chuckled.
Back in the day? He didn’t look over thirty. Maybe? Vere really couldn’t tell people's ages. He could be twenty or a hundred for all they knew.
“I’m Robin. You know? From the sign?” He chuckled. “Come! Come! I have a piece for you. I think you will love!” He waved me over, walking side by side with me as he led me deeper into the shop.
“Gloria used to love the old books and records.” Robin chuckled. “I bet you had a lot to deal with. I’m so sorry about the loss, by the way.”
“Thanks. Umm…she left me the house, so I have kept everything it was.” Vere felt strange confessing that. They knew at some point they would have to renovate, changing things to suit their taste. But they missed her so much, and they didn’t have many friends around them now.
“If you ever want to sell anything, let me know. I’ll give you a good price. Gloria really knew how to clean me out!” Robin laughed. He stopped right before a display of what looked like a pet shop wall of fish. Which was shocking for an antique store. This was probably the ‘more’ the store sign talked about.
“Gloria got you that fancy blown glass fish here,” he said.
“Holy shit, I was a kid when she got me that,” Vere blurted out. “I mean-” They looked Robin over once more. Vere couldn’t tell people’s ages, but surely this man was an exception.
Robin brought over a stool he stood on and pointed to a fish tank, where there was a single fish inside. It was deep purple and shimmering blue. Perhaps it was a beta fish, but no. It had the same long flowing fins as a beta, but the shape of the body and the eyes were all different.
“I think Malik would be perfect for you.”
“Malik?” Vere was still in shock. But they didn’t have time to process, as Robin was soon sending them out the door with the strange fish in hand.
The aquarium back home was ready, and Robin assured Vere that Malik could share a tank with others. They went through the proper steps to get Malik acclimated, putting him in the aquarium water just before bed.
Vere sighed, watching him sink into the tank and swirl around before hiding in some foliage. They smiled, content to watch the aquarium for hours. Eventually, Vere went over to the sofa, intending to only lay there for a moment. But the longer they watched the fish tank, occasionally catching Malik dancing towards the surface, they fell deep asleep, sinking into that old sofa like that had many times before as a child.
That was until they heard someone walking around. Vere stirred slightly, enough to yawn and pull the blanket more around them. In their mind, their grandmother had gently laid it over them, afraid Vere would get too cold. The kitchen light turned on and Vere rolled over so they faced the back of the sofa. How nice, they thought, to fall asleep and not worry because Grandma would take care of them. How nice.
Wait.
Wait!
Wait!
Vere shot up like a bullet on the couch, looking into the kitchen. Cold sweat began prickled on their skin as someone rummaged around the kitchen. There was a yawn, and the refrigerator door closed. Bit by bit by bit, Vere sat up, moving to run, attack. But they didn’t know exactly what that was! The thought of attacking crossed their mind. Then they thought they should run. But they couldn’t just leave Grandma’s house to be ransacked! Vere would let her down if they did that.
Vere stepped back and hit the coffee table, knocking over the small tray of bells Grandma had. “Why the fuck does she have these?” Vere thought in spite as they tried to dodge them and hide.
“Oh, you’re awake.” A tall figure stood in the kitchen doorway. “You looked cold, so I put a blanket on you.”
Vere grabbed the first thing near them that looked big and heavy. “Stay back!”
The figure turned on the light to the living room, and while their eyes adjusted, they saw blue and purple.
“That tank is just a touch cold. You should get a heater for it once winter hits,” he yawned. A tail twitched behind him as he turned into the kitchen. “Do you want some tea, too?”
Vere froze solid, afraid to move or do anything. Their hand twitched, then they chucked their Grandma’s old bible, which merely hit the wall and fell with a loud clatter against a shelf of more books.
The figure poked his head out of the kitchen door, revealing long hair that was clipped along the sides. “Whoa. Careful there.” He picked up the bible, revealing dark sclera and lavender irises. He held the bible up. “It’s the pen that’s mightier than the sword, you know.”
“Who are you?” Vere blurted out loudly.
The oddly colored man stuck out his forked tongue and smirked with it between his teeth. “Malik, duh.”
The antique shop wasn’t normal. Vere should have known that from the moment they walked in. But something, perhaps that absence of their grandmother, kept them from paying attention. Back in the day, their grandmother often showed them behind the veil, at what lay beyond mortal understanding. The carnival was the first place Vere had gone, where everything made sense to them. Why hadn’t they caught on at the antique store?
“Robin only lets people buy what they need,” Malik explained. “And you needed me.”
It was those words. After much explaining from Malik’s part, they stuck in their mind. Their grandmother said something similar. It was comforting, and it helped Vere calm down and sank into the understanding an incubus now lived in their house.
That was the norm from there on out. Malik was an incubus who lived in the home of someone who considered themselves mostly asexual. Vere decided it was irony. That was all they could come up with.
But it wasn’t at all strange, because after a few days, Vere could see why Robin gave them Malik. It wasn’t unknown to them how lonely they were. It had been months since their grandmother died, and they barely had anyone outside of work they conversed with. An incubus in the house was the perfect solution.
“It’s not all about sex,” Malik explained. “Sure, it’s fun and all. But we go after what we know humans usually want. Intimacy, closeness. We feed off the satisfaction of that desire. Sometimes sex is the easiest way.”
“So you don’t want to fuck me?” Vere asked, adding food to the fish tank.
Malik smirked, raising a cup of piping hot tea. “Only if you want me to.”
“No. I’ve never really cared for that,” they confessed. They set the fish food aside then stood there, half looking at the tank, half looking at Malik. “Have you ever come across that?”
There was a distant look that painted Malik’s face while he thought. “Once, but they were a child.” He smiled up at Vere. “So I don’t think that really counts. Do you?”
Vere was still getting comfortable. At most, they were sitting close to Malik on the sofa, afraid that getting much closer would make Vere uncomfortable.
“No, not really.” Vere huffed. “My grandmother was the only one who really got me. Everyone else thought I was trying to be special.” They rolled their eyes.
“Why try when you are?” Malik replied tenderly. “In my experience, I’ve not met two people who are alike. Everyone has marks on them that vary, have thoughts that vary. They all touch someone differently. Their voices, the way they breathe.” They let out a soft chuckle. “This may sound silly coming from something that is considered a sex demon, but a libido causes more problems than it does anything else. I don’t know why people consider it something wonderful in that regard.”
Vere smiled shyly, turning away from the fish tank to face Malik directly. “Do you say that from experience?”
He had the tea cup tilted to his lips, which he gracefully sat down to answer. “My libido is based on the libido of the person I am with. That is how all of my kind operate. We respond in kindness to what the other needs.”
It was dangerous, but Vere asked. “And what do I need?”
“I can hold you,” Malik said, extending out his arms, wide open, “if you want me to.”
Vere could remember the hugs their grandmother gave them and how long it had been since such an embrace enveloped them. Vere sunk into Malik’s arms, resting against his chest, clutching him for dear life. It almost brought tears to their eyes. No, it brought tears to their eyes.
“Aww, it’s okay,” Malik purred, stroking Vere’s hair. “Wonderful.” He fed from Vere, taking that longing, that need, that had been with them for so long. To Malik, it was pure and sweet, a well-deserved meal. To Vere, it was a relief, letting all that go, seeping into the soul before them.
“See?” The incubus chuckled as they pulled away slightly. He looked into Vere’s weepy eyes, smiling tenderly, lovingly. “Sometimes that is all a body needs.”
After that, it was even easier to understand why Robin left Malik in Vere’s care. Both needed affection, one who desperately wanted to give it, and another who desperately wanted to receive it.
“Honey, I’m home.” Vere grumbled in irritation as they came home, shucking off their shoes and slouching as they walked into the living room.
“What’s that tone?” Malik called from upstairs.
Collapsing onto the sofa, Vere clutched a pillow, hugging it close to their chest and smashing their face into it. “Faah dee-” their voice was muffled by the pillow.
Malik came walking down the stairs with a sigh, sensing the tension around Vere like a thick icing. “I see.” Malik stood before the aquarium, tossing in some fish food. “Was it Marla again?”
Vere kicked their feet furiously.
“I see,” Malik mumbled again, kneeling down to watch his fish friends rush to get to the food. “She is still doing the misgendering bit.”
Vere whined into the pillow, turning into a muffled scream.
“I see.” Malik turned away from the fish tank, wiping his hand against the back of his pajama pants. “Do you want me to torment her? Maybe I can go seduce her father and show her a thing or two.”
Vere was quiet, contemplating such a thing. “No,” they huffed.
Smirking, Malik crossed his arms against his chest. He was playing it off, but his tail twitched behind him from the irritation. “You’re kinder than me.”
“No.” Vere huffed as they rose and tossed the pillow aside. “No one in her family deserves you.”
His smile grew bigger. “See, kindness aplenty.” He went to the sofa, sitting down beside Vere. “Want a cuddle?” He offered, holding his arm at the ready.
Taking the offer, Vere snuggled on Malik’s chest, holding onto him while sinking into his side. They’re new comfort, the place they could go to let the stress wash off them. Malik’s presence was exactly the friendship Vere had been desiring.
Playing with Vere’s hair, Malik sighed. “I’ll do anything for you. Fight, sexually torment, ghost on a dating app.”
Vere snorted.
“Eh, I’m sorry you have a shitty coworker, my friend.” Malik kissed the top of Vere’s head.
“She says it doesn’t make grammatical sense, so she won’t do it.” Vere said in a whiny, high-pitched voice to mock Marla.
Malik faked dry heaving, making Vere giggle. “And no one is doing anything about it? I know the place you work is small, but surely they could get her to work away from you.”
“I dunno,” Vere sighed, snuggling up more to Malik. “Every time I make a complaint, I feel like it fuels her to keep at it.”
“Bitch.” His lip curled, revealing sharp teeth inside.
“I like the job at least.” Vere said this, but neither them nor Malik were at all convinced they were telling the truth.
Hugging Vere closer, Malik kissed the top of their head. “Do you really? Or do you just not want to stress yourself out looking for something else?”
Pressing their lips into a firm line, Vere didn’t want to admit to getting caught. The job, genuinely, was just okay, but Marla was pushing it towards the edge of not okay.
“How about you quit?” Malik clicked his tongue, thinking that was decisive action.
“And what?” Vere sat up. “I don’t have to pay for the house, but I still have to live, Malik! The bills! The groceries-” they quickly gestured to the fish tank. “My fish!” That seemed more important to Vere than groceries. And while the bills were minimal, thanks to grandma, they still existed. But the fish!
Malik had a continued, tranquil smile on his face. “I can pay for all that now.”
Vere’s face hit the floor, jaw agape as he stared at Malik like he was nuts. “I beg your pardon?”
The incubus laughed, turning to fully look Vere in the eye. “I started a Spicy Dish account, and not to brag or anything, but I’ve started making quite a pretty penny.”
“When did you start a Spicy Dish?” Vere was doing the math in their head of how long Malik had been in their care. Had Malik made a following in under a month?
“About a week ago.” Malik’s reply was so nonchalant for it being such a short amount of time.
“And how much do you make in a week?” Vere blurted.
Malik opened their phone and the Spicy Dish app to show Vere. “I make over a thousand a week.”
Shocked silence was all that answered Malik as they proudly showed off their hard gotten gains. His enormous smile, proud, almost matching the seductive one in his avatar.
“You started a week ago?” Vere’s voice came out louder than they intended.
“Oh, like that’s hard to believe. Look at me.” Malik snickered as he took back his phone. “I was devilishly seductive.” He smirked as he looked back at his phone. “I’m also making a killing with personalized videos and chats. So you don’t need to worry if you want to quit your job. You can become my assistant. Hell, I’ll make you my sugar baby if you want,” he said teasingly.
Vere made a face. “Are you sure about that, though?”
Malik’s smug smile turned sympathetic and soft. He reached out, touching Vere’s cheek gently. He smoothed his thumb under Vere’s eye and then through their soft hair, holding them preciously all the while.
“I want to take care of you, body and soul. Is that a foreign concept to you?” Malik’s voice was a deep purr.
Vere’s face flushed bright red. “I mean…a little.” They struggled to keep themself composed with Malik’s touch. It was a touch that stirred something in them.
“I was given to you for a reason,” Malik replied. “And the more I spend time with you, the more I realize my purpose and why Robin placed me in your care.” His smile was so gentle, so soft. “You’re my friend, Vere. Darling and dearest.” He kissed Vere’s forehead. “Maybe more, but that doesn’t matter now. What does matter to me is that, as my friend, I want to help you as much as possible. Which includes getting you away from a bigoted, abusive coworker.” His face was stern then, slightly pouty.
“Is that okay with you?”
Vere swallowed, then placed a kiss on Malik’s cheek. “Okay. But if we’re going to do this, I wouldn’t mind some rules or something set up. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”
Malik wrapped Vere up in his arms. “Nonsense. I know you’d never do such a thing. If anything, I’ll take advantage of spoiling you.”
That caused an anxious yet excited pause in Vere. They smiled, awkwardly a bit, then let out a laugh. They hadn’t been spoiled since their grandmother, and it had been so long they weren’t sure how to embrace it at first.
It was innocuous enough once Vere resigned from work, Malik’s pampering was the occasional dinner, a fancy coffee machine with fancy coffee beans. Then there was the nice new computer setup for Vere, a new bed.
“Let’s go shopping!” Malik announced loudly and excitedly as he burst into the room.
Vere was eating a bowl of cereal, almost choking on a bite as Malik’s explosion of an entrance shocked them.
“A whole new wardrobe for the both of us!” Malik was acting beyond giddy, basically vibrating out of his bunny slippers. “I just got the biggest tip yet!” He almost singing as he spoke.
Vere wiped their mouth off. “How big?”
Malik suddenly went coy and shy. Posing with his arms wrapped around himself and swaying demurely. “Five grand.”
They choked despite not having anything in their mouth. “How?” They stood up from their seat, staring at Malik is awed disbelief.
Malik blew a kiss towards Vere. “Never mind the how,” he giggled a little wickedly. “Enjoy the repercussions with me. It’ll be fun! When’s the last time you got new clothes?”
Christmas, Vere thought, the year before Grandma passed. “Uh-” They were still staring at Malik in disbelief.
“Exactly!” Malik beamed with excitement. “We’re gonna go shopping like it’s a new school year and mama has a sugar daddy.”
Vere didn’t really have much time to process that sentence. They weren’t one for clothes shopping, not at all. Even as a child and being forced to wear what their mom got for them, Vere saw clothes as a trap. They hadn’t found a style that represented them, that expressed how they saw their gender and themself. It was easy to slap on nondescript t-shirts and baggy jeans because everyone wore that. But anything else? What if someone said something? What was allowed?
All eyes were luckily on Malik as they shopped. Even in a human guise, Malik was beyond captivating. Tall, deep olive skin, covered in tattoos, it was no wonder he was growing in popularity on Spicy Dish. Vere caught people staring at Malik, often unaware of their expressions or how they turned so suddenly. It must be an incubus thing, Vere thought. They stood closer to Malik, unaware they wanted people to know he was with them.
“Vere! Vere!” He ran up excitedly, grinning from ear to ear as he showed off Vere a piece of clothing. “This would look so good on you.”
“That’s okay.” Vere said, already taking another long, plain tank from a rack. “I know what I like.”
Malik frowned slightly. “Okay. Sure.” He folded the article of clothing over his arm. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”
“I’ll probably ask for some fancy shoes, don’t worry,” Vere tried to blow it off.
Malik scoffed, pouting as he watched Vere go for the same old, same old. “Well, would you at least indulge me and try this on?” It was a jean jacket, with various color blocking, and big, striped sleeves.
Vere shrugged. “I guess that’s fair.” They took the item of clothing.
“And these.” Malik handed Vere a few more things. “Please?” His big, sappy puppy dog eyes made Vere nod in silent agreement, heading to the dressing room.
Vere began taking off their clothes, stalling when they saw themself in the mirror. They stared for a moment, watching their hand go down their chest then back up. Hurriedly, Vere put on a shirt. The tight black turtleneck showed off their figure. The high collar made their jaw look twice as sharp as normal. They took the top off in a hurry, replacing it with another that was more billowy, slightly sheer.
Vere wasn’t sure who they were looking at each time they put something new on. By the time they reached for the jacket, it was too many people.
“You’ve been in there a while,” Malik said, knocking on the door. “Can I see anything?”
“Wait-” Vere’s voice garbled by how thick their throat had become. The lump inside was unbearable, aching.
“Vere.” Malik’s tone was soft as concern came over him.
Vere gasped for breath. “Wait-”
Malik had somehow opened up the locked changing room door. He flung himself inside, wrapping Vere up in his long, strong-arms. His hand cupped the back of Vere’s head, holding them against his chest where it was warm, safe.
“It’s okay,” he whispered.
The tears had started before then. Vere clutched at Malik, pulling to find shore after this horrible storm washed them away. “I don’t know-”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Malik pet their hair. “You could have told me this made you nervous.”
“I hate clothes,” Vere spat. “I hate shopping!” They could remember being forced into overly starched pants and stiff collared, button up tops. Their hair cut and buzzed close at the ears, making their head cold. Ugly socks. Dreary colors. Shoes so shiny Vere could see themself in them. How they hated those shoes! Matte shoes from then on out! Every kind of hair! Baggy clothes!
“Look at me,” Malik cooed lovingly, holding Vere’s face between his hands. He smiled when Vere’s eyes focused on him, bleary with heavy tears. “I’m sorry. I was just so excited to take you out.” He kissed Vere softly, their lips, cheek, forehead. “Get what you’re comfortable with.”
Sniffling, Vere stepped back to allow Malik to see them in the jean jacket and one of the tops he picked out. “I like this,” they muttered.
Malik smoothed down the front of the shirt, holding Vere’s hips in his palms. “The colors suit you.” He smiled again. “What if we got you a few out of the norm pieces?” He asked. “You can wear them around the house, get used to them, play around, find yourself your own style as you like.”
“You won’t get mad if I don’t wear it?” Vere mumbled.
Malik’s brow pinched deeply. “What? Why would I get mad?”
Vere’s eyes darted away, remembering how every school year they would get yelled at for not wearing the clothes bought for them, and instead wearing the same variation of the same outfit every day.
“I’d be happy to see you in a long t-shirt and boxer shorts every day!” Malik said with his full chest. “Just so long as you were comfortable. You also have good legs, but that’s besides the point!”
Vere sniffled again, smiling softly. “Okay. And thank you.”
Malik cupped their palm against Vere’s cheek again. “Can I kiss you and mean it?”
Vere nodded, closing their eyes as Malik dipped down, pressing his lips firmly to Vere’s. The dressing room grew so warm, Vere was sure their face was bright red.
“My Vere, you’ll be you no matter what you wear. I’ll see you shining through, as beautiful and dashing as the first time I saw you through the glass of my fish tank.” His smile was loving and Vere knew there was no stopping this feeling that was ever growing, ever persistent.
Back at home, Vere was hanging up their new clothes, seeing colors shine through as their wardrobe became more packed. They stepped back, noticing hints of purple and yellow they never would have seen before. There were no shiny shoes, but plenty of comfortable, expensive sneakers to choose from. Vere smiled to themselves, unsure if anything Malik bought would get worn, but happy. He had someone care enough to listen to what they wanted.
“One more thing!” Malik came happily, skipping into Vere’s room. “Something I think you’ll enjoy.”
Vere scoffed, shutting the closet door. “You bought me enough already.” They turned around, seeing Malik hugging something to his chest.
“I didn’t buy this.” Malik laughed, his tail wagging behind him.
Instantly, Vere wondered what Malik stole.
“This was mine ages ago.” Malik held up before Vere a sort of patchwork hoodie. It was long, frayed, and quite old. It was the same colors as Malik’s skin of deep red and dark purple. The sleeves were long and full, coming to a fitted cuff at the end decorated with gold stitching.
“I want you to have it,” he whispered. “It would mean the world to me if you wore it now and again.”
“It’s beautiful,” Vere murmured.
“I know. My sister and I had matching ones growing up. But now, I want you to wear it, as long as you’ll have me.” Malik’s eyes widened as Vere instantly put it on. It was baggy on them, extra long.
“It’s so comfy,” Vere remarked. They smiled up shyly at Malik, then stood before them, posing a bit. “How does it look? Does it suit me?” For the first time in, well, forever, Vere was excited about showing off their clothes.
Malik looked like he was shaking as he watched Vere in his old hoodie. “Vere, may I tackle you to the bed and cuddle you relentlessly?”
It wasn’t just the hoodie that was turning Vere bright red and warm. “Okay.”
They were flung onto the bed, pinned down by Malik’s body and arms. They closed their eyes, wrapping their arms around Malik in return. Heaven was the first word to come to Vere’s mind.
Malik sighed heavily. “Heaven,” he murmured dreamily.
Vere’s throat tightened, and tears came to their eyes again.
“It’s okay,” his voice was gentle, sleepy. “I feel it too.”
Closing their eyes, Vere hugged tighter onto Malik, curling into them, finding they couldn’t get close enough. They weren’t ready yet for intimacy, or, well, the physical act of it. But this? This was perfect. The warm embrace, the scent of his skin and how soft it was against their own.
“I’ve never been so satisfied.” He whispered into Vere’s ear. “You’re amazing, Vere.” Their firm hand petted up and down Vere’s back. “And to think, you’re all mine.”
Vere sniffled, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I can’t believe it myself sometimes.” They peered up, seeing a sleepy, childishly cheerful expression on Malik’s face. “What has it been like before? I mean…have you had other partners?”
“Oh, of course,” Malik sighed. “An incubus has to eat, now don’t they?” They pursed their lips, thinking for a moment. “They always got what they wanted. I also got the meal I needed. But it was transactional. Like Spicy Dish. I’ve never had it given like a gift before. I’ve never felt it directed at me in such a way as kindness. Lust isn’t love. Love isn’t free.” He smiled back at Vere, petting their hair away from their forehead before kissing it. “We have earned this. It’s fulfilling.”
Vere nodded, smiling back shyly. “Yeah-” they felt stupid replying with just that, but they were breathless, swept away.
Laughing, Malik hugged them tighter and nuzzled the top of their head. “Take your time growing. I am not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re ready to blossom. I am patient.”
Patience. Was that all Vere needed?
“It will happen,” Vere assured them.
Malik chuckled smugly. “I know it will. But that doesn’t matter. As long as you want me to cuddle you until the end of time, I do not ask for much else.” He kissed the top of Vere’s head, but Vere lifted their chin, meeting his lips and falling into a deep, gentle kiss that turned into two, three, countless, until they passed out in a puddle on the bed.
It wasn’t hard to notice all the attention Malik got when he was out and about. People stared in a way Vere knew wasn’t just staring. It was more than that. It was deeper, warm, biblical in a sense. Vere could agree Malik was attractive. Anyone could see that. But what Vere didn’t get was the depth of it all. They could look at Malik all day. Hell, they lived with Malik, knew his habits and rituals through and through. He knew Malik better than any of these people. So, why was it so hard to understand that sort of biblical glance?
Vere had taken to studying Malik to try that perspective. But every time they did, it only led to more confusion on their part. More doubt. They tried studying people online to get some sort of grip on things. But nothing. They could admit when someone was beautiful, and all that nonsense. What they couldn’t get was that…oomph feeling. They’d never had that oomph feeling. Vere had accepted it long ago, they were just ‘built different’ as the memes suggested. They had been happy in that regard, just as they were happy proclaiming themself nonbinary.
But then Malik came into their life.
Vere was happy with Malik. Having someone who understood them comforted them. Vere had been so touch and starved until Malik. And now?
Vere wouldn’t say they were being possessive of Malik, far from. But there was a jealousy. It came when they noticed people giving Malik that up and down look. Also, when they would smile or linger too long.
It wasn’t because they wanted to lay claim on Malik. Not at all. Malik could do as he pleased. It was more a sense that they wanted to look at Malik the same way. They could just never conjure up those feelings? Powerful emotions? What was it?
For the first time in their life, Vere felt incomplete. After all these years of being assured in themself. They had been proud to fly their flags high and mighty. Now, doubt had seeped into them. And now, nothing made sense.
“Vere? You awake?” Malik’s voice sent shockwaves through Vere.
“Yes!” Vere hurriedly tried to close the windows on their computer. They didn’t want Malik to walk in and see Vere peering at swimsuit models, cosplayers, and weird Sonic comics. They couldn’t imagine a more horrifying situation.
Malik popped his head in and held up a mug. “I made some tea. Thought you’d enjoy a cup.”
“Oh, thanks.” Vere turned red from embarrassment, something they knew Malik could sense.
Coming into their room, Malik set Vere’s cup down on the desk. “You’ve been awful quiet. I wanted an excuse to check on you.”
“Oh. Yeah. Just um…gaming.” Vere said, nervous.
Malik eyed them suspiciously, but sipped their tea like they were none the wiser. “You seem anxious about something. A lot recently.”
“Yeah well. In this economy?” Vere tried tossing out a joke.
“You know I know better than that.” Malik set their mug down and held Vere’s chin in his hand. “Talk to me.”
Vere pouted, suddenly afraid of saying any of their thoughts out loud.
Malik gave that soft smile. “I’m here for you. Remember?”
They let out a heavy sigh. “It’s hard to say.”
Malik sat down on the edge of Vere’s bed. “That’s okay. We can talk until you get it out. I like that about us.”
That twinge of doubt again as Vere watched Malik pose on their bed. Wearing booty shorts and nothing else. This was a major fantasy, right? Some hot demon in booty shorts? Why did they feel that? They just liked Malik being there, nothing else.
“Hey,” Malik whispered. “Look at me.”
Vere’s eyes flooded with tears. “I’m trying!” The words came out harsher, sharper than Vere intended.
Malik’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward. “Vere-”
“I want to see what everyone else sees!” Vere snapped again. “I look and I look and I just…” They shut their mouth up tight since everything sounded strange coming from them. They hiccuped, trying to suppress their frustrated tears.
Malik’s smile was sincere then, soft and sympathetic. “I’m not asking for you to look at me any other way than how you already do. I told you before, I’m here for you and I can adapt to however you need me. So tell me, what on earth is bothering you?”
Vere sniffled and wiped their eyes, using the hem of their shirt. “You mean a lot to me. And having you here…I’m not sure why but, I feel like I should-” They scoffed, unable to get it out.
Standing, Malik went back to Vere’s side and knelt down before them. “I’ve been sensing a tension every time we go out. A spark from you, I’m not sure how I would classify it. It’s nothing I expected from you. You’re not the jealous type.”
“I’m not.” Vere ran their fingers through Malik’s long hair. “Not of you, not how people look at you. I mean…kind of how they look at you. But not in like the ‘stop looking at him’ way, more like-” Their voice cracked as they tried to find the words.
“You don’t have to force anything on my account.” Malik lifted his head from their lap. “I like us. I like our life.”
“I know but-” Vere looked into Malik’s eyes. “I want to…I dunno.”
Malik smiled. “Experiment?”
Vere’s hands trembled. “I mean-” Their chest was tight with lost breath and shivering nerves. “I’ve never had that thought…until you.”
Smiling, Malik sat up enough to place a soft kiss on Vere’s lips. “That’s why I am here. To help you, to comfort you. In any way I can.”
Vere sniffled again, leaning in closer to take another kiss, a stronger one. They held Malik’s face in their hand, parting their lips, tasting Malik. There was a strange stirring, just from the sensation. Tongues, warmth, wetness.
“Easy.” Malik whispered. “Come here.” He took Vere’s hands and led them to the bed, laying down beside him like so many times they cuddled. Only this time, Malik’s intensity spiked. There was a heat, a pulse.
“You’re so lovely,” Malik whispered. “I’ve always thought so. Slender, soft, sort of my type,” he chuckled. His fingers traced lines along Vere’s shirt, going down slowly until his fingers snuck up along their bare belly, their chest.
“Don’t tease me.” Vere knew they were bright red. Flustered didn’t even describe this.
Malik grinned. “I’m not. I’m telling you the truth.” He sat up, pushing Vere’s shirt up under their neck. He began stroking, caressing his palms along Vere’s soft skin. “I think you’re beautiful, Vere.”
“You are-” Vere didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. Doubt, uncertainty, and frazzlement consumed them. “I mean-” they panted out breathlessly. “You’re beautiful. I want to see you how everyone else does. But they don’t get to see you come out of a shower or make breakfast in the morning. They don’t see what I see and…and I’m glad they don’t.”
Dipping down, Malik kissed Vere, deep again, his tongue parting Vere’s lips. He tasted like green tea. His hands continued to touch, but his kisses traveled down, along their neck, down their chest.
A pulse of fear washed over Vere, and they quickly sat up. “Wait. Stop!” They held Malik at arm’s length and stared into his lavender eyes. “I’m not sure-”
“It’s okay.” Malik touched Vere’s face. “What would you be okay with?”
Vere sat there a moment, thinking. Staring at Malik’s well toned chest and broad shoulders. They leaned in, kissing Malik’s neck, touching his skin. He rested against Malik’s chest, holding him, kissing his neck and shoulder slowly.
“Touch me,” Vere spoke softly.
Malik did so, stroking Vere’s bare back, slowly.
Shutting their eyes, they took in the sensation of Malik’s palms upon them. Warm, soft, inviting. Vere kissed Malik’s skin more, the deep purple stripes, the blue splotches. They took a deep breath and reached down, searching around below until they felt.
Oh.
Oh!
It was bigger than they expected.
Malik chuckled into Vere’s ear. “Never seen me hard yet, have you?”
“Do you have enough blood elsewhere?” Their voice shuddered from nerves. It was their first time ever touching…well. They had seen and tried this kind of thing once before. But they had never…
Oh!
Malik whispered into Vere’s ear. “May I touch you too?”
Vere shuddered, nodding.
A soft caress of Malik’s hand along their belly, down between thighs, moving over the fabric of their Hello Kitty pajama bottoms. A moan from his lips echoed in Vere’s ear. And there. Holy shit! Vere gasped in alarm.
“Ah,” Malik panted. “What do we have here?”
Vere buried their face in Malik’s shoulder with a whimper.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m impressed. Then again, your body is beautiful, it would make sense your cock would also be, well, impressive.”
“Nothing compares to you,” Vere whimpered against Malik’s neck. “Moan in my ear again. Please!”
Malik did so eagerly, whimpering, gasping in response to Vere’s touch. Each breath, each sound that came from his lips, enraptured Vere in a way they had never felt before.
“I want to see it. I mean, you!” Vere looked up at Malik with frightened eyes. “Can I watch you, um…show me what to do with it…exactly…”
Malik kissed them. “Alright. I’ll show you.” He eased back onto the bed, laying down. He arched his lips, stripping, then kicking away his booty shorts. Vere’s eyes focused on his legs, his tail. He then spotted a patch of dark purple hair. His cock stood high, arched, pulsing above his body.
“Whoa-” Vere whispered under their breath.
“I like your eyes on me,” Malik panted. He took his hand around his cock, stroking slowly, focused on Vere. He moaned, gasping for breath. His back arched slightly. “It feels so good. Vere. Vere!”
The way Malik moaned their name made them stand at attention, in a couple of ways. Vere slowly stripped, removing the rest of their shirt, kicking off their pajama pants. They crawled up closer to Malik, laying down by his side. Kissing him, they ran their hand along his body. They were trembling, but they were also so certain. At least, they thought so.
Malik took Vere’s hand and put it around his cock. “Touch me. Please?”
Silently, they nodded, moving their hand up and down, watching Malik shudder in pleasure. Vere wanted that, too.
“Hmm?” Malik licked his lips and looked at Vere. “That’s new.” He rolled onto his side, stroking down Vere’s body. “Is it okay?”
They nodded silently again.
Malik tugged down Vere’s underwear, smirking in delight at seeing Vere completely exposed. “Look how cute you are. All smooth, so handsome.”
Vere bit their lip.
“You’re so hard.” Malik took hold of them, and their entire body pulsed and shook. “This is beyond delicious. Oh Vere,” he moaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”
How could they ever drive anyone crazy? Vere thought, though it was a shambled and patched together thought.
“More,” Vere whimpered. “Touch me more.”
Malik kissed them, rubbing his body against them, his cock against their hip. He moaned in Vere’s ear, drinking in the trembling delight Vere took in it.
“That’s it, good, so good,” Malik panted.
“I’m so dizzy,” Vere breathed. “Malik…you’re amazing. You’re so-” They went in for another kiss.
Malik took hold of both their cocks, stroking them together. “Breath, don’t pass out on me.” He kissed Vere again, moaning as their pulses mashed, becoming one. “You’re doing amazing. You taste divine.”
“I’ve never felt like this.” Vere shivered again. “It’s…strange…”
Malik smiled. “Do you want to take a break?”
Vere nodded while a few tears in their eyes. Malik released them and they hugged tight onto him, grasping him close, their grip iron tight.
Malik cupped the back of Vere’s head. “I’ve got you, love. I’m here.” He stroked Vere’s soft hair. “I’m yours.”
Taking in a shudder breath, Vere tried to calm themself. “Is this…is this how you feel all the time?”
“No,” Malik chuckled. “Only occasionally. If I were to go around like this all the time, I’d go insane.” He kissed Vere’s temple and breathed in the scent of their hair. “Usually, when I’m with you, I’m quite satisfied.”
“Really?” Vere whimpered.
“Of course! I told you that in the beginning, didn’t I? My libido is based on your libido. So what I feel right now is all you.”
Vere was shot by a lightning bolt. It coursed through their body, tensing their muscles, shocking their brain. Every thought was silenced, but wired. “It is?”
“Yes, I’m aroused because you are.” He nuzzled into Vere’s neck. “Your pulse is my pulse, and I am surging for you because of you. I am desperate to satisfy you in any way you desire.”
“I-” Vere’s throat went tight, dry in that instant.
He pulled back to look Vere in the face. “Vere, I adore you. I love my life here. I love you.” He smiled and petted the tears that came to Vere’s eyes. “Of all the things you doubt, never doubt that.”
Vere kissed him deeply, sniffling. “You mean it?”
Malik laughed, hugging Vere tightly back. “If I lie, please, lightning may strike me!” A silent beat, and then they both laughed at the absurdity of the moment. “See? No lightning. That means I love you. Doesn’t it?”
Tears poured from Vere’s eyes as they buried their face in Malik’s chest. It was strange to hear. Especially here of all places. They kissed Malik again, holding them close, rubbing against his strong, large body. Malik moaned against their lips, breath catching as the pulse continued to grow.
Vere grew dizzy. They were uncertain what to do with their hands. Do I touch him here? Do I feel him up there? They scrambled, grasping at Malik’s back, only knowing they wanted him close to his body.
Closer!
Closer!
More! More! More!
Vere’s entire being tensed. A new feeling! No. More than that. It was so intense, so extreme. It scared them for a moment. There was no pulsing, no breathing. It was a rush. No. More powerful than that even.
It was a release.
“Look at you,” Malik whispered into Vere’s ear. “You came for me.”
Vere was shuddering, barely able to speak. They just went limp.
Malik moaned into their ear as something warm surged against Vere’s belly. “Look at what you’re capable of.”
“I can’t think-” Vere whimpered.
Laughing, Malik kissed them, stroking their hair. “You did it.”
Vere shut their eyes, trying to put all their thoughts together. It was…so much! So much they weren’t used to. More tears.
“It’s okay.” Malik held them close. “You did beautifully.”
Vere remained silent, clutching Malik until it was as if the world was melting away. They were warm, safe, and then everything was soft. They drifted away, passing out from the exertion in Malik’s arms.
Vere woke in their dark room, aware they weren’t alone in the black inkiness of the night. They stretched out, yawning and relaxing against the warm bed. They stared out through the darkness, thoughts pieced together much better than before.
“Vere?” Malik murmured sleepily.
“Thank you,” Vere whispered. “That was…wonderful.” They chuckled, still a bit in disbelief.
Malik sighed dreamily, his hand resting on Vere’s bare chest. “I will do anything for you. I’m so glad you allowed me to share that with you.”
Vere inched closer to Malik on the bed, laying there, hoping their eyes would adjust so they could see Malik in the dark. “I don’t know if, or when, I’ll ever feel like it again.”
“You don’t need to force yourself on my account,” Malik purred.
“I liked it, though. Now that I can sort it out. I love being with you. But…I think it would only ever be you. I don’t think I could ever feel that way around anyone else,” the confession slipped out easily, freely. “It makes me so happy it’s you. I only ever want you.”
“You’ll make me cry,” he chuckled.
Vere smiled, able to see Malik’s lavender irises in the darkness. “I like what we have,” they continued. “If I ever lost that, I don’t think I’d ever be okay again.”
“It’s not going away,” Malik assured them, touching their face. “It will never go away. I promise.” His tail brushed against Vere’s leg under the comforter. The velvety texture of it relaxed Vere, helping them to ease back to sleep in Malik’s arms.
Harsh morning light woke Vere next. They sat up, rubbing their eyes, grumbling irritably under their breath. They got up, barely realizing they were nude, as they shuffled to the bathroom. Vere rinsed out their mouth, gazing into the mirror. There was a hickey on their neck.
“Ah-”
“Good morning.” Malik slinked into the bathroom door, a love drunk smile upon his face. “What would you like for breakfast this morning? Something big to recover all that energy from last night?”
“You gave me a hickey!” Vere gasped.
Malik licked his lips as he smirked. “So I did! Are you going to wear turtlenecks or should we go shopping for concealer?”
Vere’s face was bright red. “I’ve never had one before.”
“Lots of firsts last night.” Malik kissed Vere’s cheek lovingly. “I’ve got coffee on. Why don’t we chat over a cup or two?”
Vere looked into his eyes, heart skipping a beat. “Chat?”
“I want to tell you how cute you were last night, in very vivid detail.” He chuckled, holding out his hand. “I wouldn’t mind hearing my praises sung as well.”
Vere took his hand, holding it tight. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Well, the beginning.” Malik grinned from ear to ear and Vere followed suit, clutching his hand tight as he led them into the kitchen.
When Y/N Blackwell is invited to return to London for her debut season under Violet Bridgerton’s care, old friendships and older rivalries are bound to resurface. Time has passed, feelings have shifted, and the ton watches closely as she steps once more into a world she once left behind… including one Viscount who may not be as unaffected by her return as he would like to believe.
If the ton were to keep a ledger of long-standing feuds, the rivalry between Miss Y/N Blackwell and Viscount Anthony Bridgerton would surely be written in bold ink and underlined for emphasis.
Y/N Blackwell had been entwined with the Bridgerton family since childhood, her laughter echoing through their halls almost as often as Daphne’s own. She was welcomed, adored, and considered nearly one of their own… by all except one.
From the very beginning, it was known: where Y/N stood, Anthony Bridgerton would surely appear armed with a sharp remark, an infuriating smirk, and an uncanny talent for testing her patience.
Their so-called hatred was legendary. Childhood teasing matured into verbal sparring, glances sharpened like daggers disguised as smiles. One moment, Y/N would carefully adorn her hair with newly purchased lace; the next, Anthony would undo it with deliberate mischief, simply to watch her scowl. Petty? Certainly. Intentional? Without question.
And yet, society could never quite decide was it disdain… or something far more dangerous?
Alas, fate has a habit of intervening when matters grow too comfortable.
Due to Mr. Blackwell’s pursuit of greater professional opportunity, the Blackwell family was forced to depart for the countryside. The farewell was a painful one. With tears brimming in her eyes, Y/N clutched Daphne tightly.
“I promise I will visit as soon as I can, Daph,” she whispered.
“I shall hold you to that promise,” Daphne replied, her grip tightening as though sheer will might keep her friend from leaving.
Y/N bid farewell to the rest of the Bridgertons warm embraces, fond smiles until she reached him.
Stopping before Anthony, she lifted her chin, eyes blazing with triumph.
“Well, at least I shan’t have to endure you any longer, Viscount Bridgerton,” she said sweetly, offering a flawless bow and a most sinister smile.
Anthony leaned closer, meeting her gaze with infuriating calm.
“Do try not to miss me too much, Lady Blackwell.”
And with that, the Blackwell family departed leaving behind unanswered questions, unresolved tension, and a Viscount who watched far longer than he ought to have.
Two years passed.
“I have written to Violet Bridgerton,” Mr. Blackwell announced one evening. “She has graciously agreed to take Y/N under her wing for the upcoming season. It is time our daughter finds a noble suitor.”
His wife smiled knowingly. “Indeed. But let us hope she marries for love.”
At the mention of the Bridgertons, Y/N’s attention snapped fully into focus.
“I shall see Daphne again?” she asked eagerly. “And the others?”
“Yes, my dear,” her mother replied. “You will spend the season with them. It is time.”
“I cannot wait,” Y/N breathed already imagining familiar faces, familiar halls… and one infuriating Viscount she had not thought of nearly enough to admit.
And so, her return to Bridgerton House began.
But what awaits her there?
Scandal, perhaps.
Whispers, certainly.
And how, dear reader, will Anthony Bridgerton regard the girl who once plagued his youth now transformed into a woman who has bloomed most beautifully?
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C's corner: So this request was originally supposed to be a short, silly little fic about the Thunderbolts sticking magnets all over Bucky’s arm. Naturally, I took that idea, shook it violently, and somehow turned it into a chapter series. 😂 Because apparently one chapter of magnet-related nonsense wasn’t enough. Now every chapter is going to revolve around the team finding increasingly ridiculous ways to convince Bucky to voluntarily remove his arm so they can strike again. Thank you so much for this request because I’m having way too much fun with it already. Poor Bucky is about to spend several chapters being suspicious, annoyed, flirted with, and aggressively decorated. As he deserves. 🫶🏽
WARNINGS: chaotic Thunderbolts behavior, relentless teasing, mild language, weaponized magnets, flour-related sabotage, Bucky being aggressively decorated, mutual pining, suggestive flirting, and an alarming lack of respect for unattended vibranium.
WC: 4K+
SUMMARY: When Bucky leaves his vibranium arm unattended, the Thunderbolts turn it into their newest source of entertainment. What begins as one harmless magnet quickly becomes an elaborate team competition involving ridiculous distractions, wrong guesses, and far too much flirting between you and one increasingly suspicious super soldier.
Bucky Barnes has made several questionable decisions during his lifetime.
He's jumped out of airplanes without parachutes. He's fought aliens with nothing but a rifle and a deeply concerning amount of confidence. He once trusted Sam Wilson to choose a restaurant without checking the reviews first.
But putting his vibranium arm in the dishwasher? That might be the worst one yet. In Bucky's defense, the arm needs cleaning.
Missions get messy, the tiny seams collect dirt, and someone, probably Alexei, spilled maple syrup directly into the elbow joint during breakfast.
Alexei maintains that the syrup attacked him first.
Bucky removes the arm, places it carefully on the top rack, and starts the dishwasher while the rest of you pretend not to stare.
It isn't unusual anymore.
The first time Bucky detached his arm in the kitchen, Bob screamed. John instinctively reached for a gun. Alexei asked if he could borrow it.
Now, nobody pays much attention. Or, at least, that's what Bucky thinks.
He leaves the kitchen to shower while the machine runs.
The moment his footsteps disappear down the hall, Yelena slowly turns toward you.
You slowly turn toward her.
Ava looks up from her coffee.
John lowers the newspaper he hasn't actually been reading.
Bob blinks.
Alexei's eyes widen with the delighted horror of a man watching civilization collapse in real time.
Yelena whispers, "He has left it unsupervised."
The dishwasher hums innocently.
You glance toward the hallway. "That feels legally significant."
"It is abandoned property," Alexei declares.
"It's not abandoned," Ava says.
"He walked away."
"He lives here."
Alexei shrugs. "Details."
John folds the newspaper and sets it on the counter. "What exactly are we discussing?"
You point toward the refrigerator.
More specifically, toward the collection of magnets covering its stainless-steel doors.
The tower's magnet collection has grown without anyone admitting responsibility. There are souvenir magnets from missions, tacky slogans, animals wearing sunglasses, miniature landmarks, several letters from an alphabet set, and one shaped like a glittery cowboy boot.
John follows your gaze.
His mouth twitches.
"No," Ava says immediately.
John stands. "I didn't say anything."
"You made the face."
"What face?"
"The one you make before doing something that ends with Valentina sending a legal memo."
Yelena is already opening the dishwasher.
Steam rolls out dramatically.
Bucky's arm lies on the top rack, clean, polished, and completely defenseless.
You place a hand over your heart. "Beautiful."
"Majestic," Alexei agrees.
"Guys," Bob says nervously. "Are we sure we should touch it?"
"No," Yelena says.
She reaches for the refrigerator anyway.
Three minutes later, Bucky's arm is resting on the counter beneath an arrangement of magnets that looks like a souvenir shop exploded across it.
A smiling sun sits on the shoulder.
A glittery cactus clings to the forearm.
Someone has spelled HOT DOG using mismatched alphabet letters.
Alexei adds the cowboy boot.
John moves it two inches to the left.
"Composition," he explains when you look at him.
Ava puts a tiny magnet shaped like a knife on the wrist.
Bob, after several minutes of moral conflict, adds a smiling cloud.
You place a red heart directly in the center of Bucky's palm.
Then all six of you retreat to different parts of the kitchen and pretend to be engaged in completely normal activities.
Yelena starts peeling an orange.
Ava stares at her phone.
John picks up the newspaper upside down.
Bob opens an empty cabinet and peers inside.
Alexei whistles with all the subtlety of an air-raid siren.
You lean against the counter, biting the inside of your cheek.
Bucky enters wearing sweatpants and a black T-shirt, his hair damp from the shower.
He makes it three steps into the kitchen before stopping.
His gaze lands on the arm.
The room falls silent apart from Alexei's continued whistling.
Bucky looks at the magnets. Then at all of you. Then back at the magnets. "What," he says slowly, "the hell is this?"
You gesture toward the arm. "You left it unsupervised."
"It was in the dishwasher."
"Exactly."
"In my home."
"Location doesn't cancel negligence."
Bucky stares at you.
You stare back with an expression of perfect innocence.
His eyes narrow.
It's annoyingly attractive.
"You did this," he says.
You gasp. "That's a serious accusation."
"You're smiling."
"I smile all the time."
"Not like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're about to get tackled."
Your stomach gives an embarrassing little swoop.
John clears his throat loudly. "For the record, Barnes, this appears to have been a group effort."
Bucky looks at the upside-down newspaper.
"Walker."
"Yeah?"
"You're holding that wrong."
John glances down. "Experimental reading technique."
Bucky exhales through his nose.
He removes the magnets one by one, placing them in a pile on the counter.
When he reaches the red heart in his palm, he pauses. His gaze flicks toward you.
You suddenly become very interested in the ceiling.
Bucky peels the heart away and drops it with the others. "This stops now," he announces.
Yelena takes a bite of her orange. "Of course."
"I mean it."
"We hear you."
"No more magnets."
"Crystal clear."
Bucky looks around the kitchen.
Every face is solemn. Even Alexei has stopped whistling.
Bucky attaches the arm, tests his fingers, and leaves the room.
The moment he disappears, Yelena turns to you.
"Tonight, we establish rules."
By dinner, the Thunderbolts have formed the International Committee for the Decorative Enhancement of James Buchanan Barnes.
Bucky doesn't agree to the name.
He also doesn't agree to the meeting, which is being conducted around the dining table while he tries to eat his pasta.
You sit at the head of the table with a notepad.
"Rule one," you announce. "Magnets may only be placed when the arm has been voluntarily detached."
"No," Bucky says.
Yelena raises her hand. "Clarification. What if arm is dramatically removed during combat?"
"It isn't."
"Hypothetically."
"No."
You write beneath the first rule. "Combat-related exceptions require committee approval."
Bucky drops his fork against his plate.
"There is no committee."
John raises his hand.
You point at him. "The chair recognizes Captain Walker."
Bucky's glare moves to John.
John wisely keeps his eyes on you. "I propose a limit of one magnet per person, per round. Otherwise Alexei's going to cover the whole arm before anyone else gets a turn."
"This is discrimination," Alexei says.
"You used eleven magnets this morning."
"I have large ideas."
"Seconded," Ava says.
You write it down.
Bucky leans back in his chair, looking genuinely betrayed by society.
"None of you are putting anything else on my arm."
Bob raises his hand tentatively. "How does Bucky get rid of the magnet?"
Everyone goes quiet.
You tap the pen against your chin. "He has to correctly guess who placed it."
Bucky looks around the table.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"And when I guess correctly?"
"The magnet comes off."
Bucky nods slowly, clearly convinced he can identify each of you within seconds.
"And if he guesses incorrectly?" Yelena asks.
Your smile widens.
Bucky's narrows.
"If Bucky guesses wrong, he has to keep the magnet on his arm for the rest of the day."
John immediately sits forward. "No removing it. No covering it. No pretending it fell off during training."
"What if it actually falls off?" Bob asks.
"It gets put back on," Ava says.
"Same location?"
"Same location."
Alexei raises both hands. "Can we add more magnets after incorrect guess?"
"No," you and John say together.
Alexei lowers his hands. "This committee fears innovation."
Bucky looks from one face to another.
"So you put a magnet on my arm, I guess who did it, and if I'm wrong, I have to walk around with it all day?"
"Correct."
"That's ridiculous."
"It creates stakes," John says.
"It creates consequences," Yelena adds.
"It creates visual joy," Alexei says.
Bucky turns toward you. "You understand this is my arm, right?"
You reach across the table and pat the metal hand resting beside his plate.
"Yes. Our canvas."
His fingers close around yours before you can pull away.
The movement is quick, warm despite the vibranium, and far too gentle for the glare he's giving you.
Your breath catches.
Bucky's thumb sweeps once over your knuckles.
"If I wake up with something glued to this," he says quietly, "I'm holding you personally responsible."
You recover enough to smile. "Threatening me with personal attention isn't the deterrent you think it is."
John chokes on his water.
Ava looks toward the ceiling.
Bob whispers, "Wow."
Bucky's stare sharpens, but there's a faint flush rising along his neck.
He releases your hand and pushes his chair back. "You're all insane."
"Noted," you say, writing it down.
"That wasn't another rule."
"It is now."
Bucky grabs his plate and stalks toward the kitchen. "This stops tonight."
"Of course," Yelena says.
"I mean it."
"We can tell."
"No magnets."
"Perfectly clear."
Bucky disappears into the kitchen, muttering something under his breath about transferring towers.
The moment he's out of earshot, everyone leans toward the center of the table.
"Who goes first?" you whisper.
"Me," Alexei says immediately.
"No," John says. "You have no restraint."
"I have tremendous restraint."
"You put eleven magnets on him this morning."
"I could have used twelve."
Yelena points her fork at Ava. "She should go first. Bucky will never suspect her."
Ava looks around the table. "Why wouldn't he suspect me?"
"You have very calm face."
"I always have this face."
"Exactly."
Bob raises his hand. "Shouldn't we draw names or something?"
You tear several small pieces from your notepad.
"Fine. Everyone writes their name down. We draw for the order."
John takes one of the slips. "Are we including Sam?"
"He doesn't know about it yet," Ava says.
Yelena smiles. "He will."
Alexei scribbles his name in enormous letters, folds the paper once, and drops it into the empty breadbasket.
Bob folds his into a tiny square.
John folds his with crisp military precision.
Yelena doesn't fold hers at all.
Ava watches everyone with open suspicion before adding her name.
You toss yours in last and shake the basket. "Moment of truth."
You reach inside and pull out the first slip.
Everyone leans closer.
You unfold it.
"Ava."
Ava closes her eyes.
Alexei slaps the table in celebration. "Yes! The quiet assassin begins!"
From the kitchen, Bucky shouts, "I can still hear you!"
The entire table goes silent.
A beat passes.
Then Yelena whispers, "Tomorrow morning."
Bucky's exasperated groan carries through the wall.
You write Ava's name at the top of the official rotation.
The game has begun.
A week passes.
Seven full days without a single magnet.
No one mentions the committee. The rotation chart disappears from the refrigerator. Alexei stops carrying magnets in his pockets, or at least stops letting them fall out whenever he sits down. Yelena doesn't make any suspicious comments about "decorative opportunities."
Even you behave.
By the fourth day, Bucky starts watching all of you with the narrowed eyes of a man who knows peace is usually followed by property damage.
By the seventh, he decides the idea has finally died.
It's a ridiculous team game. The Thunderbolts possess the collective attention span of a puppy inside a fireworks factory. Of course everyone forgot.
That afternoon, he finds you in the kitchen making a cake.
Or trying to make a cake.
There's flour on the counter, flour on the floor, and somehow flour on the cabinet behind you. A bowl sits beneath the mixer, filled with something that resembles wet cement.
Bucky stops in the doorway. "What happened?"
You look up from the recipe on your phone. "I'm baking."
"I can see that."
"It's a cake."
"Can't see that."
You point the wooden spoon at him. "I'm still in the early stages."
"It looks like you fought the flour and lost."
"The flour cheated."
Bucky moves closer, surveying the kitchen with growing concern. "Why're you making a cake?"
"Bob said he wanted one."
From the common room, Bob calls, "I said cake sounded good!"
"You see?" you say. "A direct request."
"That's not what direct means."
Bucky reaches around you to examine the batter. His metal hand settles on the counter beside the bowl while he leans over it.
You glance toward the hallway.
Ava is waiting just out of sight.
Bucky doesn't notice.
He dips the wooden spoon into the bowl and lifts it. The batter clings to it in a dense, stubborn lump.
"This isn't cake batter."
"It's rustic."
"It's resisting gravity."
"It has character."
"It has structural integrity."
You snatch the spoon from him. "You came in here to criticize me, or are you going to help?"
"I came in here for coffee."
"Congratulations. You've been promoted."
Bucky sighs, but he washes his flesh hand and moves beside you.
You hand him the bag of flour. "Half a cup."
"You already put flour in."
"It needs more."
"How much did the recipe say?"
You quietly turn your phone facedown.
Bucky stares at you. "You're not following a recipe."
"I'm following my heart."
"Your heart's making concrete."
"Half a cup, Barnes."
He mutters something about ordering dessert like civilized people, but reaches into the cabinet for a measuring cup.
You watch him scoop flour from the bag. Then you look toward the hallway again.
Ava's face appears around the corner for half a second.
You give her the smallest nod.
Bucky turns back toward the bowl.
You reach for the sugar at the exact same moment, swinging your elbow directly into the measuring cup.
Flour erupts between you.
A white cloud explodes over the counter, the bowl, your shirt, and most importantly, Bucky's metal arm.
You gasp with enough force to qualify for community theater. "Oh my God!"
Bucky stands perfectly still. Flour coats him from his shoulder to his fingertips. There's even a white streak across his cheek.
You clamp both hands over your mouth.
His eyes close. "Tell me," he says slowly, "that wasn't on purpose."
"It wasn't on purpose."
His eyes open.
You widen yours.
Bucky looks at the flour covering his arm, then at the nearly empty measuring cup in his hand. "You hit me."
"It was an accident."
"You swung your elbow at me."
"I was reaching for the sugar."
"The sugar's on the other side of the counter."
"I got turned around."
"You've been standing in the same spot for twenty minutes."
"I panicked."
"Before anything happened?"
"I'm intuitive."
Bucky stares at you for another long moment.
You give him your most apologetic smile.
It's the same smile you use whenever you've done something that may require repairs, stitches, or intervention from human resources.
His eyes narrow.
You grab a dish towel and begin wiping at the vibranium.
"Here, let me clean it."
"You're making it worse."
"I'm helping."
"You're pushing flour into the seams."
"I'm emotionally helping."
Bucky catches your wrist before you can scrub more flour into his elbow joint. "I'll clean it."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"I feel terrible."
"No, you don't."
"I feel a little terrible."
"You're smiling."
"I smile when I'm nervous."
"You smiled when Alexei broke the training simulator."
"That was different. The robot called him an outdated Soviet appliance."
Bucky shakes his head and reaches up to detach the arm. The vibranium releases with a soft mechanical sound.
Your pulse leaps.
There it is. Voluntarily detached. Exactly according to the rules.
Bucky carries the flour-covered arm to the sink.
"I'm going to rinse this before it turns into paste."
"Great idea."
He looks over his shoulder at you.
You're standing very still beside the mixing bowl. Far too still.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Bucky looks toward the hallway. It's empty. He looks back at you. "You're acting weird."
"I spilled flour on a ninety-year-old assassin. I'm processing."
"I'm a hundred and nine."
"That doesn't make it better."
Bucky rinses the arm beneath the faucet while you pretend to rescue the batter.
Once the flour is gone, he sets the arm on a clean towel beside the sink.
Then he notices the flour streaking across his shirt. "Great."
"You can use the bathroom downstairs," you say immediately. "There're towels in the cabinet."
His suspicion returns. "Why're you trying to get rid of me?"
"I'm not."
"You just gave me directions to a bathroom I've used for six months."
"You seem disoriented."
"I'm standing in my own kitchen."
"Without an arm. That has to affect your balance."
Bucky studies you.
You smile.
He points at you with his flesh hand. "Don't touch it."
You lift both hands. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"Don't let anyone else touch it."
"Who would do that?"
His stare turns flat.
You press your lips together.
Bucky leaves the kitchen, still watching you until the wall blocks his view.
You wait.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then Ava slips through the wall beside the refrigerator.
You jump even though you knew she was coming. "Jesus!"
Ava looks unimpressed. "Keep your voice down."
"You came through the wall."
"You told me to."
"I didn't tell you to emerge directly from the drywall like a ghost."
"We have maybe thirty seconds." She pulls a magnet from her pocket.
It's blue and orange, with bold block letters printed across the front.
GO BEARS!
You stare at it. "A sports magnet?"
"It's perfect."
"You don't watch football."
"Exactly."
Ava moves toward the sink.
Bucky's arm lies peacefully on the towel, unaware that it's about to become the centerpiece of an extremely stupid conspiracy.
She presses the magnet against the outer forearm.
It clicks into place.
You lean closer. "It's crooked."
Ava adjusts it.
"Now it's too low."
She moves it again.
"A little left."
Ava turns her head slowly. "Do you want to do this?"
"No. It's your turn."
"Then stop art-directing the crime."
Footsteps sound in the hall.
Ava's eyes widen.
"Go," you whisper.
She steps backward and disappears through the wall just as Bucky enters the kitchen.
He's changed into a clean shirt, though there's still flour dusting his hair.
You're standing beside the mixing bowl, stirring with exaggerated concentration.
Bucky looks at you. Then at his arm. Then back at you. "What did you do?"
You gasp. "Nothing."
"That was too fast."
"What was?"
"Your answer."
"I'm offended you'd accuse me after I've already apologized for assaulting you with flour."
"You didn't apologize."
"I expressed regret."
"You said you felt a little terrible."
"That's huge for me."
Bucky approaches the sink. His gaze lands on the magnet.
He stops.
You bite the inside of your cheek.
He picks up the arm.
GO BEARS! beams cheerfully up at him.
Bucky closes his eyes. "No."
You lean against the counter. "Something wrong?"
"You've got to be kidding me."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The magnets."
"What magnets?"
Bucky holds up the arm.
You squint at it. "Huh."
"'Huh'?"
"That's strange."
"You spilled flour on me."
"Accidentally."
"You made me take the arm off."
"I didn't make you do anything."
"You sent me out of the room."
"You had flour in your shirt."
"And while I was gone, you put this on it."
You glance at the magnet again. "Go Bears," you read. "Interesting."
Bucky points the arm at you. "It was you."
Your heart jumps. Not because he caught you. Because he didn't.
You slowly smile. "Is that your official guess?"
Bucky hesitates.
The rules come rushing back to him.
If he guesses correctly, the magnet comes off.
If he guesses wrong, it stays on his arm for the rest of the day.
His eyes sweep over you.
You've still got flour on your nose. You're standing beside the abandoned cake batter. Nobody else is visible.
Everything points directly at you.
Which is exactly why Ava picked the magnet.
Bucky's jaw tightens. "Yes," he says. "Official guess. You did it."
You press your lips together, savoring the moment.
Then you make a loud buzzer noise. "Wrong."
Bucky's expression goes blank.
From inside the wall, there's a muffled thump.
You cough to cover it.
Bucky's eyes shift toward the sound.
Ava emerges through the wall with her arms crossed. "It was me."
Bucky looks at her.
Then at the magnet.
Then at you.
"You spilled the flour to distract me."
You place a hand over your chest. "Ava acted alone."
"You hit my arm with half a cup of flour."
"Unrelated baking incident."
"You told me where the towels were."
"Hospitality."
"You stood there directing her."
Ava glances at you. "He heard that?"
"I have enhanced hearing," Bucky says.
You turn toward Ava. "We may need to revisit our whispering protocols."
Bucky exhales slowly through his nose. Then he attaches the arm. The cheerful GO BEARS! magnet sits proudly against the dark vibranium.
You grin. "Looks good."
"I hate all of you."
Ava walks past him and picks up her coffee from the counter. "You guessed wrong."
"I'm aware."
"So it stays until midnight."
"I remember the rule."
"No covering it," you add.
Bucky looks down at the sleeve of his clean shirt.
Then at you.
You point at him warningly. "Don't even think about it."
"This is my shirt."
"And that's a regulation violation waiting to happen."
"There are no regulations."
"There's a written charter."
"You wrote it on the back of a takeout menu."
"It's legally binding."
Bob wanders into the kitchen. He spots the magnet. His entire face lights up. "Ava did it?"
Ava takes a sip of coffee. "He guessed her."
Bob looks at you.
Then at Bucky.
Then back at the magnet. "Oh, no."
Bucky's eyes narrow. "Why do you sound happy?"
"I don't."
"You're smiling."
"I smile when I'm nervous."
Bucky slowly turns his head toward you.
You shrug. "It's catching."
John enters next, takes one look at Bucky's arm, and doubles over laughing.
Alexei hears him from the common room and comes running.
Yelena follows at a calm walk, already holding her phone.
Within thirty seconds, Bucky is surrounded.
"Go Bears!" John shouts.
"You don't even like the Bears," Bucky snaps.
"Today I do."
Alexei places both hands on Bucky's shoulders. "You look magnificent. Strong. Athletic. Midwestern."
"I'm from Brooklyn."
"Today, you are from Chicago."
Yelena takes a picture.
Bucky turns toward her. "Delete that."
"No."
"Yelena."
"It is for official committee records."
"There is no committee."
You step beside him and brush the remaining flour from his hair.
Bucky looks down at you, exasperation written into every line of his face. But he doesn't move away.
Your fingers linger near his temple. "You really thought we forgot?"
"I hoped."
"That was your first mistake."
"No," he says. "My first mistake was walking into this kitchen."
You smile sweetly. "Your first mistake was leaving your arm unsupervised."
Bucky leans closer, lowering his voice until the rest of the kitchen seems to blur around the edges. "You understand I'm getting you back for this."
Warmth slips through your chest. "Is that a threat?"
His metal hand comes down against the counter beside you, close enough that the vibranium brushes the fabric near your hip, trapping you between him and the counter without actually trapping you at all.
Your heart leaps anyway.
Bucky's eyes flick briefly toward your mouth. "A promise."
Behind you, John makes an exaggerated gagging noise.
The moment shatters.
Bucky doesn't look away from you.
He only lifts his metal hand from the counter and raises his middle finger toward the team.
Unfortunately, that puts the GO BEARS! magnet on full display.
The entire room erupts into laughter.
Bucky closes his eyes, looking like a man reconsidering every decision that led him here.
The most painful part of rewriting Fractures is having to read what was written originally lmao.
The most enjoyable part of rewriting Fractures is reading the new stuff instead. Oh, I cannot WAIT to finish it so that you all can see. All this work will be worth it, I swear.
