#handle as in a literal physical handle like a pan handle or a door handle bc he’s the one holding up the operation to sell the act | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tsukishimas-shortcake · 3 years

Text

Relationship Headcanons

↦ Character(s): Hakkai Shiba x fem!reader

↦ Rating/Warning: No rating though there are some light mentions of abuse (if you have read the manga you are aware of what I am talking about, I’m not going very deep into it though it literally just mentions it), mentions of anxiety attacks (no detail though), fluff, not proof read

↦ Word count: 1.8k (longer than planned, sections are bolded)

↦ Your Momo’s Receipt: Hello~ I’m post yet another TR headcanon and this was requested by the lovely @strawbub I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it did get longer than planned but I enjoyed writing it. I'll prob do a part two that's more of a scenario based on your first date or something since I didn't go into it here. Please note: for those of you who don’t know my blog is currently under construction, meaning I will not be updating my masterlist for the time being.

So how did you guys meet, well mostly because of Yuzuha,

One day in like elementary you’re walking home and you see this super pretty middle school girl just like yelling at this small group of guys

The guys end up running off just because they don’t wanna deal with her or the attention she's drawn to them

Behind her was a boy, taller than her but obviously younger. You didn’t assume they knew eachother though.

The boy and yuzuha began walking in opposite directions because one was going home while the other was going to pick up something like groceries

You’re so entranced by how she stood up to them yet she’s a girl who was far smaller and you end up catching up to her, almost stepping on her heels

You end up absent mindedly following her into the grocery store and eventually she just freezes, turns, and stare directly at you

Your eyes widen since you must’ve been staring and she just goes “may I ask why you’re following me?” And you explain how cool she was earlier. She invites you over for dinner (esp since her older brother won’t be home) and figured it’d be good for Hakkai to meet someone his age

You end up going over but Hakkai didn’t come down to eat so you never actually got to meet him, though from then on you would see Yuzuha every so often, visit every other weekend or so

But no matter how often you came over the next few months, you never once met hakkai,

That was until you both reached the end of your middle school education and we’re about to begin high school

You had gone over because you were going to borrow an old work book from Yuzuha, and when you go to knock on the door the door opens before your closed fist could hit it, instead hitting a firm chest

You blush and quickly apologize but the person in front of you doesn’t move at all, doesn’t say anything and almost looks like they drifted into space with their dead stare

You assume this is yuzuha’s older brother because you’ve also never met him and you immediately turn to walk away but Yuzuha calls over hakkai’s shoulder

“Y/N-Chan! You just got here where are you going?” This was def not yuzuha’s older brother. There’s no way she’d be that happy with him around; oh my god. Realization hit, the guy who you hit (though it was more of a tap) was hakkai.

The hakkai you had only caught a glimpse of in yuzuha’s photos, never talked to or actually seen in person despite going to the same school and living in the same neighborhood

He must hate you. That’s why he avoids you. That’s def why - is what you think

Yuzuha drags hakkai back inside and invites you in; you sit down with them in the living room and watch hakkai visibly relax now that he’s inside his house, his own space, with a pillow behind him and a blanket covering his lower half, he almost curls up into it as he continues to avoid your stare

“Hi hakkai…Kun? Im L/N Y/N” you say and you see his face dead pan once again

Yuzuha can be heard laughing from the kitchen as she comes back in.

She leans over and begins explaining that hakkai literally just freezes with any interaction between him and girls who aren’t in his family

You nod, thinking maybe it’s an anxiety thing? Which is the case with you, but only because he’s been watching you since you’ve come over (not in a creepy way) wanting to and working the courage up to talk to you

The 5th or so time you came over after that encounter he was inches away from introducing himself before the house phone rang causing everyone to kind of “wake up” in a sense

Every time since then he gets closer and closer but isn’t able to say anything; he even realizes he has a crush on you.

The way you sit when you do homework and how cute you look when you’re focused.

How your forehead scrunches up when you’re trying to figure something out and you end up just sitting back with a small huff followed by yuzuha’s signature laughter.

It’s also a huge thing that you get along with Yuzuha.

So enough with first meeting time for the confession.

He ends up confessing accidentally. He didn’t know you were coming over to begin with so he was flustered out of his mind. And how was he supposed to know you hadn’t actually fallen asleep and you could hear him over the tv

The tv was more white noise than anything and the day was hot since it was the middle of summer causing the window to be open and the sound of soft wind and small birds to drift in; this was the hot that makes you tired so you were all sprawled out of just sitting in a daze

So while resting your head on the table you’re dozing in and out but then you hear hakkai begin to speak, something he never really did around you

Now did you and hakkai text? Yes. Did it take him an hour to reply because his brain would explode when you replied to him? Yes. But was it a start to communication? Also a yes.

You hear him say your name quietly before he moved closer, you can feel his gaze on your features

“I like you” is all he says. Simple and sweet. But you sit there in shock, trying not to blush so he’ll have no idea you heard him but he can tell because your forehead scrunches

You heard him and are focused on if you should reply or not. And he knows that.

You open your eyes and just look up at him, he’s closer than expected. His hand close to yours on the floor and he reaches over and grabs it lightly. Hoping you’ll also return the gesture by holding his hand instead of leaving your hand limp inside his.

And you do, thank goodness, and Hakkai almost mentally can’t handle it.

Once you start dating it’s more so just hanging out at his house or yours; however he talks a bit more and you text a lot more. He’s gotten better at replying. It usually takes him like 15 minutes now

He’s kinda stressed about your relationship but not due to anything you or him did

He’s stressed because of the mentality his older brother gave him

Is he even allowed to be this happy?

He finally has someone thats small enough and naive enough that he can protect you; compared to constantly being protected it’s a sudden, strong, yet good change for him

He’s touch s t a r v e d

Yes Yuzuha shows affection; but he stopped accepting her hugs when he was around 8 just because he physically wasn’t able to handle it due to his bruises and such

But with you, even with his bruises and all you take care of him. Able to coax him into using medicines and toning down the physical violence (that he can control himself)

He also finds it super soothing when you lightly brush over his scars (especially those that his brother gave him), it helps him believe that scars are only physical and can fade with help

One thing that stresses him out the most is trying to hide you from his brother. Any time you leave something at the house its easy to pass it off as yuzuha's but when it comes to things like photos he has with you, he can't hang them up, show them off, or have them as his phone Lock Screen, etc. because he just really doesn't want his brother to know and target you since he'll then know that you're his weakness (aside from yuzuha as well)

Sometimes won't explain why he can't hang out and has legit pushed you out of his house before at the last minute notice of his brother coming home

Will always make sure you get home safe though, usually by having Yuzuha go with you since then she can just say you're a friend from school

Your parents love him, though they were a bit hesitant it became a "you always have a place to stay" because they learned about their family situation from you and yuzuha. So expect him to spend the night when he's too scared to deal with his brother. Same with yuzuha. (yes I know this isn't yuzuha head canons but its hard to write for him without mentioning her when they're so close)

We're talking three person sleep overs. Yuzuha and you of course share the bed and Hakkai takes some time to even set foot in your room much less sleep on a mattress that's on the floor

He has a small heart attack every time he comes into your room because he's overwhelmed with everything, he's never been so comfortable and it makes him feel restless. Like he's never and I mean n e v e r been less stressed and slept better than when he does so in your room

The smell, the colors, just being surrounded by you is something that completely changes his mood

Once showed up after he fought with his brother, tears in his eyes and clothes a bit tattered and you just pulled him to your room, and sat down with him.

You laid on your bed with him laying down onto of you, head on your chest as you rubbed his head and only said a few words "its not your fault"

He ends up crying so hard he falls asleep and gets dehydrated and you have to make him drink a bunch of water when he finally wakes up.

NSFW

super fucking careful w you

almost annoyingly so, but you're understanding

He knows that he might be taking things frustratingly slow but he knows that since you understand and know his history that you can help him get through it

Your first time you think you'll have to call it off because he's shaking so bad

"baby... are you sure it won't hurt you?" he keeps asking.

pretty sure that's the longest its ever taken him to finish because he was so anxious

despite being so slow and hesitant, late he isn't too scared to get a bit rougher

but im not talking anything crazy im talking like he's willing to pull your hair a bit or nip a bit harder at your neck.

Please never ask him to do anything like degrade you or some type of harsh physical rough shit, he can't

like literally im 99% sure that if you ask him to choke you or something he will pass out because of the anxiety attack he would have at even the thought.

in short with nsfw though he is sweet boy. He's a switch through and through. Loves when you take care of everything because then he doesn't have to be scared of hurting you.

339 notes · View notes

thesolotomyhan · 3 years

Text

amado carrillo fuentes as a dad would include

a/n: hehe slowly coming back because heres my soft ass dropping this long hc for you guys, im so in love with preggo/dad hcs yall im sorry pls love me-

Taglist: @fandomnerd16 @visintaes @sheeshgivemeabreak @artemiseamoon @yvngfirefly

let me know if you want to be tagged!

ok so,, we’ve briefly already gone over some ideas of amado being a dad and in some sense how he would be when your pregnant-

but let’s refresh some points here and there yeah? because im SOFT at the thought of amado becoming a dad and the fucking HEART EYES DE TONTIN he would always have looking at you-

just listen- ok because the very moment amado knew about his kid’s existence growing inside of you-

this man was instantly wrapped around their little finger right then and there,, he just grew an attachment with them from then on alright

like im just imagining him always talking to your stomach every single night he possibly can,,

giving it little kisses, his other hand caressing your stomach like “8 mas meses mi amor, hasta que yo y tu mami te podemos abrazar” i

like :(( i can see him whispering to your stomach at 3 in the morning, thinking your asleep as he gently whispers to his bebe about anything and everything when he cant sleep-

and like hed just talk about if his kid is going to be a girl hes just over here saying something like “si dios quiere bendecirme, saldras igualita a tu mama, de hermosa y inteligente-” i cannot

dios mio- he just screams overprotective,, like if you thought he was protective before with you, that is nothing compared to the amount of extraness hes taking when youre pregnant,,

like hes going to be duplicating your security so much even if youre just going to the store down the block for 1 thing- youre going to be even more untouchable than the president- hes not taking any chances-

when hes with you,, my god hes just doing the MOST,

like he hates it if people look at you for more than 5 seconds because hes already snapping back at them like- “qUE CABRON, te gusto algo o que? no te traje para que te le quedes mirando a mI ESPOSA ASI-” i

he would also never let you do things on your own when hes there, it doesnt matter if youre 6 weeks pregnant or 7 months pregnant, hes not letting you move a single muscle because hes already going to be doing it for you-

doesn’t matter if all you have to do is move your arm to open the door- his ass is already opening it, holding you by the small of your back :((

but also the cravings?? dear god- I swear he gets them more than you do

because when your craving donuts or something at 2 in the morning hes over here snapping his fingers and sending his men out the moment you so as much think about it-

“órale pues, hijos de su reshingada madre, ya escucharon, traigan a mi esposa sus 3 cajas de pan” lmaoo when literally all you wanted was one but ya le sacaste las ganas a el-

just :(( he would love to eat cravings with you all the time so you dont feel bad :( its one of his favorite things to do- i cant

and listen- the AVIONETA TOYS!!

its something that i know he would do as a dad :( like him collecting all these different toys while youre pregnant,, organizing them around his kid’s room :(

so when his kid is older they can play with them with like these matching pjs he bought :(((

just wanting his kid to be able to be interested in the things that amado likes to do- its BONDING ok dont look at me-

but also this baby mobile he got for his kid,, with like these little airplanes hanging from them,,

woW :( i cry at the thought of him playing around with it everytime he walks into the room,, just imaging the moment when he’ll be able to look down and see his angelito sleeping i :((

he just gives me so much soft vibes of wanting to try to always be apart of his kid’s life growing up,,

just never wanting to leave your side either because dear god if something were to happen to you or his kid before he ever gets to meet them-

its going to be like juarez never existed in the first place,, hes just always going to be right there next to you as much as physically possible,,, god- it only gets increases when his kid is finally born-

this mf never shuts up about you and his baby,,

like probably ranting for hours to acosta about it like, “nada, cabron, nada se siento mejor que poder por fin alzar a mi hijo/a, pinshi hermoso creatura que mi esposa me dio-“ :((

AHh,,wait can you fucking imagine you making acosta the padrino,,:( because ??

like even though he cant stand when amado doesnt shut up,, nothing beat the feeling the day he met your kid,, just happier than ever that you chose him to look over them:(((

i am laughing at the thought of acosta always walking up to amado whenever he has your kid,,

his voice going all light like “buenos dias, donde esta mi nino/a favorito?!” and just taking his kid out of his arms,, spinning them around, completely ignoring amado all together as he starts to walk away-loL probably while still talking to your kid and offering them candy :(

god- since we’re here his kid would literally want to be around amado all the time,, wanting his attention,, i just !!

imagine amado convincing you so that he can take his kid to work or something- i

the smile on his face because his kid is over here in his arms pointing at all the planes like “papi!! mira, that one looks like my stuffed airplane at home” little finger pointing excitedly- i cannot

but he would never, never mention anything about his business in front of them for your sake but also because he doesnt want to ever be the bad guy in his kids eyes alright :(

also im so sorry in advance but if he had a daughter that little girl would fucking OWN his heart- his princessa de todos los cielos :((( NO IM NOT CRYING

ayY but if he had a son, i just know he would dress him up in all black like su papi:(( a LITTLE CUERVITO version- oh my god :(

he would be such a fucking pushover dad too- like always reading them bedtime stories, giving into them no matter what,, getting them these big ass surprise presents every time he comes home from the airstrip,, just CONSINTIENDO HIS NINOS all the time-

like:( hold on just imagine on some days you coming from the kitchen after making some dessert for your ninos and amado but finding them all passed out on your bed:(((

like your daughter on top of his chest and your son curled into his side,, both of them holding their favorite stuffed toy, their little hands holding onto his shirt -I SOB

i just- i can see him also being the dad that would hold his kid above him,, carefully tossing them in the air

his laughs mixing in with their little fucking giggles as he brings them down to his face to kiss them every time :((((

i don’t know- im just so soft at the idea of him walking around the house or his work with his kid on his hip :((-

or him distracting his ninos while you cook breakfast for them- i just might about sob if i keep going

oh fuck- or every morning before he leaves to go work, he comes into their bedroom,, kissing the top of their heads,, moving their messy hair out of the way :((

probably prays a little thing- like for nothing bad to happen to you or his kids while hes gone for the day:( i

:(( no offense but i cannot handle the thought of him picking them up in their blanket in the morning,, his kid still sleeping and bringing them into your bed so youre all together when you wake up- his soft fucking smile while he tucks them into you :((((

becasue THATS HIS FAMILIA- the one hes always dreamed about having-

wow um- but hes definitely the type of dad that would build his kids a whole ass park in the backyard for them-

like his kids wanting a swimming pool with a water slide? You bet your ass hes going to build one,, im :((

wow ok but if his son was into soccer or his daughter into ballet or something and theyre practicing at home-

i can see him being the dad that would sit there, smile on his fucking face,, praising them while they practice,, ugHH just him telling you about the improvements they made while he watched them- i

god- please don’t get me started how he’ll always go to school plays/sports with you just so he can feel orgulloso thats his kid out there performing-

why am i crying at the thought of him having this picture of you and your kids with him wherever he goes, like his buena suerte or something- im SORRY i CANT

or him calling you every day when hes at work,, wanting to hear your voice but also hear the moment his kids scream “WE LOVE YOU DADDY!!” :(

i just- every night,, him always telling you how he would never change you and his kids for anything in the world like- “sabes, dios me bendicio de que tu fueras la mama perfecta para mis hijos-” goodbye i need to go cry

#narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico imagines #amado carrillo fuentes x reader #amado carrillo fuentes #narcos mexico #narcos: mexico

198 notes · View notes

achliegh · 3 years

Text

Bandaids

Hello, I’m back with part three of this little series. It has been quite nice to tell this story and is good therapy for me. Again I mean no disrespect with this fic these are things that have happened to me and how I deal with them. Read at your own risk, this is a triggering fic. Tell me is you want a part 4

CW/TW: CW/TW: Past Abusive relationship, Anxiety, Depression, Panic Attack, past age difference relationship (Illegal)

Part1 Part2

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Besides Luka, I made him up, don’t care for him tho

Leo wasn’t walking home, he was stomping. How dare that jerk call him pecan he hasn’t used that name in years, he asked his boys to never call him that. He wants to scream, he wants to shout. He wants to break down and cry, he wants to break down and laugh. He is feeling everything at once and yet nothing at all. The usual ten minute drive to the apartment has turned into a 15 minute stomp back home. He throws his bag on the ground and goes to the kitchen. He is going to distract himself in the best way he knows how. Baking.

By the time Logan and Finn came home the house was filled with a wonderful smell. They both floated into the kitchen following the smell and stopped dead in their tracks. Leo's hands were covered in bandaids, there was flour everywhere, a first aid kit on the table and dishes all over. His eyes were red from crying and his hands shook as he was cutting butter to fold into some homemade pasty crust. They shared a look and both silently agreed Finn would keep an eye on Leo while Logan went to call Sirius.

“Hey Nutty, what Cha making?” Finn sat on a stool across the island from Leo as he took his frustration out on the dough he was making. Leo looked up at Finn through his messed up hair that he has been tugging on every once in a while. “It smells great in here”

He just blinks at him and then his eyes widen as he drops his dough. “Fuck, I forgot about about my cookies!” The younger boy turns around and pulls some odd shaped sugar cookies out of the oven, hes shaking bad enough that the baking sheet is moving in the pan as he sets it down on the counter. “I don’t even like sugar cookies- what- why did I made these?” He looks at Finn as if the older boy has the answer to everything and his eyes start to fill with tears. “What am I even doing? Half of this can’t even be ate because theyre have my fucking blood in them and my literally tears. Finn, I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” He wraps his arms around himself as a few silent tear streak down his face.

Finn’s heart just shatters as he watches Leo fall apart right before his eyes. He walks over and cautiously reaches out for the light of his life. A silent invitation for touch. The younger boy practically falls into his arms and presses his nose into Finn's neck. Leo isn’t sobbing, he has done enough of that the past few weeks. A few rogue tears did fall onto his shoulder but he didn’t care. Finn moved Leo to sit down on one of the bar stools as Finn figures out how to turn off the oven.

Leo was resting his head in his hands when he felt a hand on his back, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He might have dozed off for a few minutes as the adrenaline from his argument earlier seeped out of his veins. He looked up to look into a pool of emeralds and his heart skipped a beat. Sometimes he forgot how lucky he was to have two beautiful boys who loved him. He felt guilty for how he has been acting the past few weeks but the boys have been so good to him and so good at understanding his boundaries at different times. He learned it and gave his boy a smooch. He smiled when Logan kissed back and pulled away putting their foreheads together

“Mon Coeur, Sirius is here I think you two should talk.” He looks into his eyes and pushes his hair off his forehead and kisses the young boy's forehead. He pulled away and went to stand by Finn. “We will be in the other room if you need us okay? Peanut?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay” he sends a soft smile their way as they both plant a kiss on each of his cheeks and head to the bedroom as Sirius walks in and sits next to Leo on a bar stool and looks into the kitchen.

“You really did a number on this kitchen, eh Nutty” He smiles at the young boy and is struck by just how rough he looks. The wild hair, the dark sleep bruises under his eyes, the bandaged up fingers, pale face. He looked so young and so vulnerable. Sirius understood, and he wanted to help. “Leo, can… can you tell me what's going on? Everyone has been worrying about you ever since Luka showed up.” He noticed the way Leo looked alarmed and tensed when he said Luka. “You know, I haven’t really talked to many people on the team about my past and my family. My parents would physically… abuse me, and they would say horrible things to me. Some of the habits they forced on me I have actually kept over the years, Heather says i should keep them because it will remind me of what I’ve come from.” He looked up to see Leo staring at him and he took his hand in support. “Do you go to Heather?”

“Yeah, I-I do go to her. Not as much as I should but I don’t know how much I can handle.” He looks as though he is thinking of the right words to say. “Sirius, you don’t have to tell me anything, I said basically everything that happened in the locker room… He would treat me like I was a disposable fleshlight” He tightens his grip on Sirius’ hand and balls his other fist tight enough to crack his knuckles. “ Sorry, some people don’t like when I do that.” He looks at Sirius and swallows.

“I understand, Leo this isn’t something you should have to deal with. If what I heard in the locker room was true then we need to talk to Arthur and the Lions Organization to get him fired because you, looking and acting like this. It has to be so stressful and if I had to work around my father or god forbid my Maman I couldn’t handle it. You're incredibly strong and I actually admire you for that.``

“Cap I have done nothing but cause issues for the last month!”

“You have a reason for acting out though Leo, and we can help you. Please, Let the team help you.” His eyes were pleading as Leo looked into them. He nodded and Sirius pulled him into a tight embrace. “Go tell your boys we are going to talk to Arthur.” He smiled as Leo wandered over to the bedroom, he could hear talking and a few smacks off kisses.

Leo emerged from the room with a shy smile on his face and red cheeks. Sirius shook his head but smiled as he patted the Goalies shoulder and walked them out the door to his range rover.

#o’knutzy #leo knut #lumosinlove #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #sirius black

34 notes · View notes

omni-scient-pan-da · 3 years

Text

And They Were Oar-Mates

The Second Part of My Fic About The Oars by omni-scient-pan-da

For @burntuakrisp @wh33z @reaping-mae @jo-the-nerd @emo-bi-mess @taurianskies7 @the-dumbass-multishipper @pictures-that-are-kinda-cool and that one anon that left an ask that made me actually finish writing this thing (Edit: Find All Parts HERE)

It wasn’t often that Rowan got upset. For the most part, he was an angel, everyone he met loved him. Even when dealing with the nastiest of people, he met them with a smile and a bounce of his step, never letting anyone or anything get to him.

But of course, most people he interacted with had never hurt Killian.

After a raid on their villiage, Killian had made a deal with an evil warlock in order to save both his and Rowan’s life. The warlock helped the two of them escape and live to see another day, and in return, one day the warlock would call on Killian to be his faithful servant for the rest of time.

Over a decade passsed, and the two all but forgot about the deal Killian had made with the warlock. Until one day, the warlock came calling, and Killian disappeared. And now, Rowan was out to find the warlock and get his beloved husband back.

Rowan knew the task wouldn't be easy. First of all, he had no clue where Killian had gone, or where to find him, or how he was going to get him back from the warlock, or even if Killian wanted to be found in the first place.

Rowan shook his head. No, that was just the spell that made him want to leave... Killian would never just abandon me like that, not if he could help it... I just have to find a way to break the spell and then everything can go back to normal Rowan thought to himself.

He'd packed up as much supplies as he could carry, ready to journey for however long it took in order to find his husband.

Sorcery or not, nothing was going to stand in his way. Either he'd return home with Killian or he wouldn't come back home at all.

Rowan teared up as he looked around their home. It didn't really even feel like a home without Killian there with him. After all they'd been through together, Rowan refused to let some evil warlock stand in the way of his marriage.

With a shaky breath in, and one last look around the quiet empty house that had fallen silent since Killian's sudden disappearance, Rowan stepped out of the house, shutting the door behind him as he set out to find his lost husband.

First things first, he had to figure out where the warlock was hiding.

This shouldn't be too hard Rowan thought to himself. How many green flamed evil warlocks could there possibly be?

Apparently the answer was a lot.

Rowan started off by asking around town, trying to figure out if people had heard of the warlock that had taken his husband before. He couldn't remember much about the man, other than the fact that he had given his younger self a case of the heebie jeebies and had green fire-like magic.

One would've thought that with witches and wizards and warlocks having the ability to do literal magic, they would've picked a wider range of colors for their magic to appear in. But not only was green the most popular color, it also was the only lead Rowan had in regards to finding his husband. The warlock hadn’t exactly left a name after saving them from the raid on their village and leaving putting a curse on his husband.

A pang of remorse shot through Rowan’s heart. He should’ve done something more to save him. He should’ve worked harder, done something to get Ian to stay, held onto him and never let go, found some way to undo the curse, something. Anything would’ve been better than letting him disappear.

But Rowan couldn’t focus on that now. Right now all he could do was focus on moving forward. The past was in the past and no matter how much it hurt, there was nothing he could do to undo it. The most important thing was that he tried to fix his mistakes from the past and pray that Killian would forgive him when he finally found him again.

After spending nearly an entire day walking around asking about warlocks with green magic, Rowan set out to the next town to try and find out if anyone there knew the answer. It was longer than he thought it would’ve been, he hadn’t realized how little he and Killian had actually travelled after getting married. They had liked the idea of settling down, maybe adopting a little girl in a year or so if they could...

Rowan sighed softly to himself. “I’ll get you back Ian... I don’t care how long it takes me, I’ll find you again.”

As the sun began to set, Rowan walked to the nearest inn to find a place to stay for the night. No matter how much he wanted to keep searching, he would be no good to Killian if he froze to death setting out on the cold roads at night. And he’d be even less help if he tried to push forward sleep deprived and hungry.

After booking a room and setting down his belongings he headed down to the tavern at the base floor of the inn. He didn’t want anything to drink, neither him or Killian cared for it, but right now, Rowan just needed to be around people. The thought of being alone with his thoughts at the moment... It was just too much for him to handle.

He sat in one of the booths in the back, just watching the people go by and twisting the wedding ring on his finger. Somehow he had to find someone that knew the warlock. And then he’d be able to get his husband back.

Meanwhile, across the land, the matching ring was being twisted around another’s finger.

“It can’t stay on forever boy,” The warlock scowled as he glared at his mortal bodyguard. “The metal will interfere with the magic.”

“I still don’t see why it’s necessary for me to learn magic in the first place,” Killian shot back, continuing to twist the ring around his finger. “Wouldn’t that just make it easier for me to escape from here?”

The warlock laughed. “Like I would teach you anything useful enough to help you escape.”

Killian glared at the ground, twisting the ring around his finger a little faster, as if to remind himself that it was still actually there.

“Besides, you entered a magical contract when you shook my hand all those years ago child. And no matter how powerful you may get, there’s no way to break a magical contract. You swore to be my faithful bodyguard for the rest of your mortal life in exchange for helping you and your little boyfriend-”

“Husband,” Killian intergected, though the warlock just continued on like he hadn’t said anything at all.

“-out of that burning village.”

“That you were attacking.”

“I never said magical contracts were always fair, or that the circumstances under which they were formed was always perfect, just that there’s no way to break them,” The warlock smirked, and it took nearly all of Killian’s willpower not to step forward and punch him square across the jaw.

Not that it would actually do any damage to the warlock himself of course. There were safe guards against that. Any physical harm Killian tried to enact on the warlock would end up rebounding back on him, whether he tried to physically attack him or poison his food. Killian had had to learn that one the hard way.

“What does any of this have to do with me needing to learn magic?” Killian asked.

“You can’t be my bodyguard and not know how to protect me against magical attacks as well as physical ones. Otherwise you’d just be a little human flesh shield and you’d be dead after a few hits, and that’s really not fun for anyone involved.”

Killian glanced down at the ring on his finger once again. He had no idea where he was, or where Rowan was, if there was any hope of seeing him again, or even if Rowan would want to see him after all this. It was possible that Rowan would want nothing to do with him after all was said and done. After all, he was the one that had left him. Killian couldn’t blame him if Rowan had wanted to move on. To find a less cursed husband. He had said from the beginning that accepting the warlock’s deal was a bad idea and yet he had taken him up on it anyways.

The warlock scowled, impatient. “Look boy, either you can take the ring off now, or I can take it off for you, and since you can still learn counterspells with nine fingers, I’d suggest you take it off of your own violition that way you can keep all your fingers and that stupid metal band.”

Killian hesitated for a moment before slipping the ring off his finger and slipping it into his pocket. He felt as if he was betraying Rowan somehow, dishonoring his husband by taking off his wedding ring, especially under the circumstances. But he didn’t have much of a choice. It was either take the ring off or let the warlock take it from him forever, and at least this way he’d still be able to hang onto it.

“Alright fine then, teach me your countercurses or whatever, I’ll bite,” Killian said, his voice unwavering despite the way he felt inside.

The warlock smiled. “That wasn’t so hard now was it?” his hands lit up, green glowing orbs floating in each one. “Now it’s time for the real work to begin.”

Author's Note: Haha, okay, so funny story, I was writing this because of this one anon and as I got to this point I realized it was a pretty good stopping point and since people are actually still interested in this I figured I'd finish the story and then lo and behold I realized that I should probably break the story up a little more, so there WILL BE a part three which I will link HERE when I find it and potentially a part four depending on how part three goes. I promise it will eventually have a happy ending and I'll tag the same people I did for this part in part 3 as well as anyone that reblogs or comments on either part one or part 2 (unless you don't want me to, then I totally get it, just lmk I won't be offended) Anyways, thanks for reading this far and hopefully part 3 will come out soon!

26 notes · View notes

steves-on-a-plane · 4 years

Text

Run. (Pt. 7)

Part One /Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six

Words: 2084 Pairing: Tony Stark & Reader Timeline: The Avengers: Age Of Ultron [2015] Other Info: Run AU Summary: Following another successful mission, everyone is gathered at the Avenger’s Tower for a party. As the party begins to wind down, someone arrives who wasn’t on the guest list.

April 2015

“What do they do in there all day?” Steve Rogers nodded to the door that led to your husband’s lab. The two of you were seated in the lounge area, slightly away from the rest of the party. You were sat on a long couch where you could watch Tony effortlessly work the room schmoozing with all of the guests. Steve sat across from you on a slightly smaller couch, purposely facing away from the circus behind him. Parties had never been his thing in any time period. The “they” in question was of course Tony and Dr. Bruce Banner.

“Please, they don’t tell me anything.” You scoffed. “All I know is Bruce has been here day and night since you guys got back from Sokovia. I had to send in reinforcements last night to get them to come up for dinner. It’s a miracle either of them surfaced long enough to show up to this party. I was hoping you’d know what’s got them so worked up.”

“They don’t bother explaining anything to me. We keep the science strictly need to know.” Steve sighed.

“Captain Rogers!” Your fifteen-year-old daughter Serina joined you and Steve in the lounge. “Man, you are hard to track down!” She exclaimed sitting down on the couch next to you. “I wanted to thank you because Mom and Tony said you were the one who persuaded them into letting me come to the party. I’ve been trying to get into an Avengers party for years.”

“All I said was that this party was to celebrate the team and that you, your mom, and Eddie, you’re part of the team too.” Steve explained. “Families should be together as much as possible and we take up a lot of Tony’s time.”

“Well, I wanted to say thanks, just the same. Now I’m off to challenge Thor to an arm-wrestling match!” Serina jumped up from the couch and began walking through the party in search of the God of Thunder.

“She’s a good kid, Serina.” Steve told you. “Tony mentioned you’ve been having a hard time with her father.”

“Ah, he talked to you about The Architect.” You nodded before taking a sip from your drink. “Michael is trying to convince the court that what Tony does is dangerous and that we’re putting Serina at risk every day just by being associated with him.”

“What we do is dangerous.” Steve agreed cautiously. “But does he really think Serina would be safer or any less of a target if she weren’t in your care?”

“Well that’s the argument that we, and our lawyers, are trying to make. The whole thing is a real mess.” You shook your head. “But Michael would have found something else to come after us for if not this. The worst part is that he doesn’t even answer Serina’s calls half the time and he’s constantly pushing back visits.”

“That’s certainly an advantage for you and Tony, right?” He asked.

“Sure, but it doesn’t exactly improve Serina’s already strained relationship with her father.” You sighed.

“Hey! There she is, the Iron Lady and Captain Underpants!” Clint greeted you enthusiastically. He sat between you and Steve, taking up residence on the floor. You began to suspect Clint might be a little drunk.

“Isn’t that what they called Margaret Thatcher?” You recalled. “If I’m going to get a nickname, I’d like it to at least be my own. How are you feeling, Clint?”

“Better than ever, but I thought I’d come hang out over here with you two anti-socials for a while.” He yawned. He found a pair of drumsticks on the table and started fidgeting with them. He rolled them between is fingers causing the pieces of wood to spin.

“Party’s winding down.” Bruce commented as he joined your small gathering. He sat on the other end of your couch, not wanting to step over Clint. “Tony’s asking the team to stay the night. Is he planning a sleep over?” He asked you.

“You see more of him than I do these days.” You shrugged. “Maybe he’s planning on unveiling whatever it is you’ve been working on in the lab for the past three days.” Bruce’s eyes widened as he sipped generously from his glass of water.

“No, ah,” He shook his head. “That didn’t exactly pan out how we thought it would.”

“Say, [Y/N], you know your kid’s over there arm-wrestling, Thor?” James Rhodes and Maria Hill had now made their way into the lounge. The Colonel pointed to the bar where you daughter was seated opposite Thor. The two of them each grasping the other’s hand with their elbows on the bar.

“I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.” You joked. You had full faith that Thor wouldn’t allow any harm to come to your daughter.

As other guests began to leave the rest of the Avengers filtering into the lounge area. Natashia sat next to Bruce, she didn’t share the same reservations about climbing over Clint. She would have no problem stepping on him if he got in her way. Tony kissed you on the cheek before siting in an armchair near your end of the couch. The only ones missing were Thor and your daughter. Serina bounced over excitedly on the balls of her feet followed closely by the God of Thunder.

“I won!” She announced triumphantly before perching herself on the arm of the couch between you and Tony. Thor placed mighty Mjolnir on the center of the coffee table as gently as someone would a book or a mug. Before wedging himself between Sam Wilson and Steve.

“Yes, you have raised a mighty warrior, Mrs. Stark! She has made a worthy opponent for me this evening.” Thor nodded.

“Thor said that when I’m older he might let me try to wield Mjolnir!!” She announced.

“Rina, I think it’s time for you to call it a night, Kiddo.” Tony suggested.

“I was hoping I could stay up and hang out with everyone a little bit longer.” She frowned.

“It’s a trick!” Clint commented from his seat on the floor, brining everyone’s attention to him. “Ah whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power!” He mumbled in a terrible impersonation of Thor. “Whatever man! It’s a trick!” This earned a hearty laugh from Thor.

“Please, be my guest.” The God of Thunder invited.

“Really?” Clint scrambled to his feet. He tossed aside the drumsticks and grasped the hammer with one hand. He pulled on the hammer. It didn’t budge.

“You know, Clint, you’ve had a hard week. No one will blame you if you can’t get it up.” Tony smirked, forgetting that his teenage daughter was sitting right next to him.

“Please, Stark, but all means.” Clint invited your husband to try his luck.

“I’ve never been one to shrink away from a challenge.” Tony agreed, getting up from his seat. “It’s physics.” He commented, shaking his limbs. “Right, so if I lift it, then I get to rule Asgard, right?” He asked placing both of his hands on the hammer.

“Yes, of course.” Thor nodded. A childlike grin was spreading across his face. He was enjoying this. Tony tugged once on the hammer, which of course didn’t move.

“I’ll be right back.” He walked off. This sparked a friendly competition among everyone with each of the Avengers taking turns trying to lift the hammer from the coffee table. Things got even more interesting when Tony and Rhodey couldn’t lift the hammer together who both of them were wearing gauntlets form their Iron Man and War Machine suits. Even Maria gave it a go. Serina of course was all too excited to jump in on the action.

“That’s not a question I need answered.” Natasha commented when her time came around.

Even you had tossed your hat into the ring, but it was a futile attempt. No one could lift the hammer except Thor. Steve got the closest. While the Hammer didn’t move a millimeter for anyone else, it did at least creak when held between the palms of Captain Steve Rogers.

“It’s rigged. The handle’s imprinted right?” Tony tried to guess once everyone had had their go. “Like a security code. Whosoever is carrying Thor’s fingerprints is I think the literal translation?”

“Yes, yes.” Thor nodded, getting up from his seat. “I have simpler one. You’re all not worthy.” This remarked was greeted with boos, laughter and half-hearted chuckles.

“Serina, come on,” You said, getting up from your seat. “Let’s go check on your brother and get both of you ready for bed.”

“Ugh, fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Good night Avengers! See you at breakfast.” You both walked over to a flight of stairs that lead to the bedrooms and you were halfway to Eddie’s room when the entire apartment was filled with a piercing high-pitched sound. Almost like feedback from a microphone.

“What the hell was that?” You looked down from the balcony that overlooked the lounge. Tony pulled a small device out of his pocket and studied it. It seemed to have readings of something on it. Then there was the sound of electronics whirling, and a graveling voice calling out from below you.

“Worthy?” The voice asked. You looked down to see a robotic silhouette. It was directly under you but about five yards across the room from everyone else. It looked like one of the Iron Legion suits Tony had designed, but it seemed to be only partially assembled. It was unfinished and missing parts and walked hauntingly out of sync.

“No.” The mechanical voice answered its own question. “How could you be worthy? You’re all Killers.”

“Stark?” Steve looked to Tony for an answer. You were thankful that you’d talked tony Out of an all glass balcony when the Avenger’s Tower was being build. Thanks to the layers of steel that separated you, the mechanical monster below hadn’t noticed you or Serina upstairs.

“JARVIS?” Tony called for his artificial assistant. You could tell he’s was trying to hide the panic he was feeling.

“I’m sorry, I was asleep… Or I was a dream.” The mechanical suit rambled.

“Reboot Legionnaire OS. We’ve got a buggy suit.” You hard Tony tell the device in his hand. No reply came from JARVIS. He started tapping at the device trying to access the system manually.

“Mom,” Serina whispered next to you. “What is that thing?”

“I don’t know.” You whispered back. “But it’s okay. Tony can fix it.” You promised. But as you looked down at your husband you could tell form his expression, he wasn’t sure that he could.

“There was this terrible noise…And I was tangled in…in strings…I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy.” The suit continued to lament as it jerked around wildly.

“You killed someone?” Steve asked, he stepped around the furniture so that he was standing next to Tony.

“Serina, go in your brother’s room. Shut the door and stay quiet. Do you understand me?” She nodded and did as she was told.

“Who sent you?” Thor demanded.

“I see a suit of armor around the world.” The suit played an audio clip of your husband and that was enough of an answer for you. Whatever this thing was it had to do with what Tony and Bruce had been working on in the lab all week. You ran the extra few feet and hid yourself in your son’s room. You could hear the sounds of repulsors powering on and firing, you heard gun shots, and glass shattering. You two children looked at you with absolute terror in their eyes.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You didn’t know if you were affirming this more for them or yourself. “Come sit on the bed with me.” You sat on the edge of your son’s race car bed and both kids eagerly scrambled over to you. With a child nestled close on either side you held one in each arm.

“Your dad does this kind of thing every day.” You reminded them. “And he’s not alone, he’s got all of his friends, Like Captain Rogers…”

“And Thor!” Serina added. She flexed her muscles the way she’d seen Thor do earlier.

“And Hulk!” Eddie added excitedly.

“That’s right, now they’re all down there, so we don’t have to worry, okay?” You kissed both of your kids and helped them close and waited for someone to tell you that it was over. The danger had passed.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark FF #Tony Stark x Reader #Tony Stark Fan Fiction #Tony Stark Fan Fic #Tony Stark Reader Insert #Age Of Ultron #Run AU

47 notes · View notes

secondhand-trash · 4 years

Text

Ashido Mina(BNHA)- Spring Flowers

A/N: I know that this is way earlier than the time I’m supposed to post this but I will be in an examination hall at that time so I decided to post it now uwu this is the fic I wrote for @bakuismybitch for the @/bnhaclaimedmysoul spring time event^^ sorry that I haven’t been messaging you as much as I should and that this falls short comparing to my other stuff, I kinda overestimated my ability to balance life qwq

Description: you might not be able to go out to enjoy spring as you want to but Mina is determined to bring spring to you.

Word count: 1735

When quarantine was first announced, Mina had expected that she would be the one badly hit by all this. She was the energetic one in this duo, the one that couldn’t go a day without being around other people and the one who wants to go out. If one of you would go insane because of being trapped inside he confines of your house, she could almost bet on her last existing brain cells that it would be her.

And oh boy was she wrong.

At first, you seemed to be rather indifferent by all this. “It would be fine,” you had said when her hands flailed around while she whined about how long it would be until you could do all the things you liked to do again, “there are plenty of things we can do while being inside!” You were the one who would make her get up early in the morning despite no longer having a schedule because you read that maintaining your regular habits was good for the mind. There were pages of home workout videos and craft tutorials on the search history of you browser, she was still astonished that you managed to find so many different way to sew puppets out of old socks. You had took upon yourself to make something different for lunch every single day and she had to practically beg you to stop baking after having sourdough for a week consecutively because you wanted to test out all sorts of recipes and fresh bread doesn’t last long. So, which she would now scold herself for being so stupidly optimistic but didn’t know any better at that point, she was truly convinced that the only issue you would have is the eventually shortage of space to accommodate all your creations that spawned from your boredom.

She knew that something was wrong the moment she woke up one morning and saw that it was way past the time you would usually wake her up at. It was a gradual change, but the more she picked up on your wilting spirit the more concerned she was. Lunch started repeating, you nearly forgot to feed your starter one week until she asked about the little jar of dough in your fridge, you started breaking ramen into pieces and call it a snack. She could see you physically spiraling down and it was very worrying to witness.

The breaking point when she realised that she had to step in and pull you back was when she walked out of the room one night and saw you wrapping yourself under a cocoon made out of blankets with a nutella jar in your hand, your eyes an empty void as you stared at the glowing television. No lights on, no anything, just the pale light from the screen shining on your face and making you look so souless. Mina’s eyes travelled back and forth between your still frame and the television. Why were you watching the weather channel at 1?

“...Are you ok?”

No response, you didn’t even move. Gingerly, she climbed onto the couch next to you and gave your shoulder a light poke. “(y/n)?"

Nothing, not even a budge. You jumped when she called for your name again, this time louder and with a bit of a squeak to her voice. Clumsily, clutching the jar that nearly dropped, you coughed in embarrassment. “Oh, mina,” you chuckled almost too stiffly that it sounded more like a huff, “you’re still awake?”

“Yeah...” she narrowed her eyes, “what are you doing?”

“Ah, you see,” you put down the jar of chocolate spread, pilling the blanket away from your body as you gave your nose a light scratch before continue, sounding almost way too matter-of-factly considering how eerie this all was, “I was thinking that since we can’t go out, maybe I’ll imagine what it is like everywhere else to make it remind myself of what spring looks like.”

All the little cogwheels that had been spinning and spinning in her mind finally clicked into place when she realised what all of this was about. Spring, yes, it was spring already. She didn’t even remember that it was already a good quarter into the year with how long she had been staying in but you sure did. You had always thrived during spring, something about the smell of grass in the humid air and the warmth that was seeping back from the winter cold always put you in a constant good mood. So the fact that this bit of joy was no longer available had put you in a slump that you were sinking deeper and deeper into made total sense.

“Guess I should go to bed now,” you said nonchalantly, as if you weren’t staring at a slow motion shot of a random place in the world like a zombie just mere seconds ago. You collected the half-finished jar of nutella and hoisted the blanket in your arms, looking at your very dazed girlfriend like she was the one who was doing something weird, “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Mina said as she scurried up, thinking of what she could possibly do to stop you from finding comfort in the weather channel, “yeah.”

You woke up to the sound of pots banging and cabinet doors slamming shut, a squeal mixing in between at times. Your foggy morning mind was telling you to go back to bed, that you did not have the energy to handle whatever it was that your girlfriend was up to. But just as you were about to flip onto your other side and take up the now spared up vacancy on your luring mattress, a sharp screech followed by a series of profanities made every hair at the back of your neck stood up. You sighed, no longer feeling even an ounce of sleepiness and rolled so you were facing the ceiling.

You needed to go check if she is alive, didn’t you?

Poking your head from the door, you could see Mina carefully pinching a piece of bread with the very tip of her thumb and index finger. She was almost flinging it into the pan before quickly retreating her hand as fast as she could. The sizzling echoed through the kitchen and you watched as she poked the bread with the spatula with caution.

“Mina?” You tilted your head when she snapped her head up, yellow eyes widening when she saw your confused face, “What are you doing?”

She didn’t say anything so you looked past her shoulders to look at what’s in the frying pan. If anything, your confusion had only grown. The bread was soggy, the edges browning and sticking to the bottom of the pan. There were clear stains of what was put in there before left around the bottom, some already starting to burn into black char.

“Mina what are you making?” You asked and your girlfriend scratched the back of her neck rather sheepishly.

“This was supposed to be a surprise,” she said, “I was gonna make you breakfast.”

“Aw that’s so sweet!” You cooed and then you finally connected the dots of what she was trying to do deconstructing the kitchen so early in the morning, “Is this... French toast?”

“Yeah!” She chirped, literally scratching at the pan to flip the frying toast and it made your heart ache at how it was likely that you were to say goodbye to that pan after this, “Is it not obvious?”

You blinked, not having the heart to tell her that you would have no clue if you simply stare at the pile of burned bread that was placed on a plate. “Did you add any butter to the pan?” You asked, referring to the burn that stuck to the pan.

“...you need to do that?”

You chuckled, “Do you need help?”

“What? No!” She flailed her hands in the air as she tried to push you out of the kitchen, “Just chill around and wait for the food! This is about you, I don’t want you to even lift a finger!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed, shooing you out of the kitchen, “It’ll be done in a few.”

“Ok,” you said rather skeptically, “just... call for me if you need anything.”

It didn’t take long for you to hear another groan from the kitchen and for Mina to weakly beckon you for help. You laughed, knowing exactly that this was bound to happen.

With a good square of butter in the pan and some relentless scraping later, you had the plates of toast on the table with a generous amount of syrup on top. You eyed Mina curiously when she didn’t sit down, running around the house and grabbing the computer in her hand.

“Mina what are you doing now?” You said, almost not sure if you find this amusing or confusing.

“You see,” she said as she turned on the computer, “I know that you like spring and you’re sad that we don’t get to experience the season, so I decided to do something fun and have a picnic indoors!”

You snorted when she pulled up a picture of the lily fields at a nearby park and placed it right by the table. A gif of butterflies on her phone which she carefully steadied with a mug. “You know how those youtubers like to use have a fake fireplace in their backdrop?” She said, seemingly pleased with her little set up, “I figured we can do the exact same thing but with flowers.”

This whole thing was a bit funny, if you were being honest but warmth bubbled up inside of you at the thought of Mina going out of her way just to make things a little bit more enjoyable for you. You laughed when she lined up your sock muppets and arranged them in a circle, going as far as to putting an empty cup in front of them.

“What is a picnic without friends?” She winked as she poured out a glass of orange juice for you. Raising her glass, you grinned at how hard she was trying to put on her serious face.

“Cheers to spring?”

You smiled. The glowing screen might not even come close to the real thing, but you still felt the fresh giddiness that the spring flowers would always bring you.

“Cheers to spring.”

#ashido x reader #ashido imagine #ashido mina x reader #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

54 notes · View notes

shesawriter39049 · 4 years

Text

|FAMILY TIES| M| MAFIA AU| 5

SMUT/ ANGST

FT- A lil Joon, Seok, and Yoongi

2K SNEAK PEEK….(SHIT’S A LITTLE DARK, BUT ALSO KINDA FLUFFY)

AU SUMMARY: A powerful alliance made up of 4 families spanning over a decade, is suddenly turned on its head when one family has a new leader after an unexpected death. Well, let’s just say he’s not down to follow the somewhat civilized rules your families have enforced. Sooo now, it’s game on…

Yall are all wanna wrap Tae in a blanket after this....

WARNINGS- For the sneak peek just no it’s a little heavy, mentions of death, overdosing, hella emotions, religion is briefly mentioned for all of one sentence! OH there’s also a hint of fluff

AUTHORS NOTE-I've decided part 5 will be done in 2 parts because as I’ve mentioned that’s the bridge chapter before everything kinda hits the fan! There's actually another character death planned for part 6 and yes it’s one of the boys. P1...will be around 8k and P2 will be around 6...I’m separating them because there's a lot of info and I don’t want to overload you all in one and you guys get lost!

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

ENDING ON PART 4 -

One thing leads to another and you found yourselves talking for a good 40 minutes or so, which wasn’t too surprising…considering all you had to debrief within the past 15 hours! Ultimately deciding to bring Henry back with you on the jet, Tae would start trying to slowly detox Henry while on this 15-hour flight. He’s done it before…he can do it again…

This time all four of you walked into the house…still dark, the stench seeming even stronger now, instantly picking up on the running water in the bathroom.

“Henry!!” Taehyung called out as he walked towards the door “Cho!!” Voice a little louder this time as he banged on the door.

Nothing, the four of you glared over at each other, as Tae pressed his ear to the door. “Henry, man open the fucking door before I beak this bitch down! We don’t have time for this shit!”

Nothing, nothing but the sound of running water rattling against the porcelain tub….

Ramming his shoulder against the door, a low growl ripping from his chest at every blow, after the third time the flimsy piece of wood ripped from the hinges!

The steam from the shower came pouring flooding into the hallway……The handle still in Taehyung’s hand, as it swung backward, feeling jerk back into his hold. Almost as if something was hindering it from fully swinging flush against the wall…That’s when his eyes dropped to the floor…

Part 5......

“HOLY FUCK!” It seemed to be the phrase of choice as it spilled from numerous lips… as you all fanned the smoke out of the room so you could see a little better! Frantically, Yoongi dropped down to his knees first, snatching the needle from Henry's arm tossing it into the tub, not that it mattered you all knew, and the realization was nauseating! This damn sure wasn’t your first dead body, and unfortunately not your first OD either...he was gone..long before you lot even strolled in there. Hoseok's body slumped against the back of the cracked up bathtub, feet crowning the top of Henry's head as he gazed down at him. Eyes and heart heavy, a string of words whispered low under his breath, and it took you a second to realize he was speaking in Korean. Hoseok may have actually even been praying over Henry’s body, I know, I know, in this line of work it may sound comical to some that there are members within the alliance that have some sort of faith...but some do!

Taehyung was dead silent, he didn't have a choice, feeling as though someone had cut off every artery to his heart, completely light-headed and the smoke wasn’t helping. Well aware that if he didn't leave he’d possibly pass out, his body did not understand how to process what he was currently feeling. Everything just fucking hurt...physically hurt, it literally felt like he was the one who just shot up and every vein in his body was on fire! What made it even worse, is Taehyung's eyes accidentally graced Henry’s...and for the first time in months, he looked like Henry. Like the man Tae met four years ago that swore on his life that if they didn't kill him, he would get clean, stay clean...do whatever they needed him to do to show his gratitude. Being able to look at Henry and connect on that level should’ve almost been peaceful for Taehyung. The fact that he could see the innocence in his eyes again, as opposed to all the hurt, pain, and hell just dope! But it wasn't it fucking sucked because there wans’t any “innocence” there was no emotion Henry's dead, he’s actually fucking dead! It’s somewhat haunting to think that Taehyung came here with that on his heart, he came here to do what he did not allow himself to months ago. Yet when all the anger subsided all he could feel was hurt, and even thorough Henry’s cloudy tweaked out haze, he still couldn't do that to him. Yet at the end of the day..his body is STILL laying along the tile, cold, lifeless, to be fair Taehyung, would probably sleep better at night if he was the reason Henry sat lied this floor. The Idea that Lau did this to himself just feels like a ragged blade, continuously kneading at his skin.

The thing that trumped every other emotion, the thing that actually made Tae sick to his stomach, was the fact that he wasn’t even aware if Henry knew why this hurt so much! If he truly knew how much he meant to Taehyung, how rare it is for him to care about some enough to spare there life not only once..but twice!

He should be angry yet all he feels is fucking guilt, yeah, he’s the one that feels guilty right now, and all he wants to do is break every single thing around him!

Clearly, he’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn't, he keeps his feelings to himself because he worries everyone's going to despair. Yet he never told one of his friends how much he meant to him and he’s gone anyway so what the fucks the point!? Why has he been working so hard to guard every centimeter of his heart if, in reality, everyone has the same ending regardless!? Wordlessly Tae stumbled his way out of the bathroom..everything about it just felt suffocating!

Your eyes were burning to the tenth degree as you tried your damndest not to cry, yeah you’d seen a shit ton of dead bodies, caused more than you could count...But when it’s someone from within the “Family” no matter how the scenario pans out shit just hits different. Reallll different..not even realizing you’d crouched down next to Namjoon..who had his arms tightly wound around your waist, both cursing and grieving for Henry all at the same time.

“Guys he’s...” Croaked from his throat and with a slow almost disgusted shake of the head Yoongi cut himself off mid-sentence, there was no need to say it out loud at this point. Leaning down to gently brush the pads of his overs over Henry's lids so they could actually close...maybe have him look like he was peacefully sleeping!

“GODDAMMIT LAU!!” Ripped through Mazda’s chest and felt as though it echoed throughout the entire house as he slammed is fist into the glass mirror. No one even budged upon hearing it start to shatter, your entire body tensed at the impact. Almost as if you were the one who did it yourself, probably because you really fucking wanted too as you subconsciously dug your own nails into your thigh. Mazda was relatively quiet, always smiling and cracking jokes...much like Taehyung he was never one to yell, seeing him like this was a rarity and it broke your heart.

Chest heaving painfully hard as he plopped down on the floor, bloop dripping onto his jeans as he sat cramped in the tiny corner, the space far too small to hold all of you. His anger was communivate, that release of pain, aggression, brokenness, it wasn’t for him. It was for his boss, best friend, the man he’s protected since they were in high school …..the man he knew was hurting whether he chose to show it or not!

That’s when it hit you that he wasn’t in the room, his silence was almost stiffening at this point as you broke away from Namjoon and scrambled off the floor. “Tae!!?” There weren't many places he could be in his box of a house, still trying to be cautious as you maneuvered through the many bags of trash, pieces of glass,and discarded needles. The lack of response had your heart pounding into your throat at this point “Tae!!?? Taehyung!!?” The sense of panic within your voice was more than evident..you hated when he went into shut down mode like this, it scared the living hell out of you!

The minute your feet landed on the porch and the crisp air hit your nose you almost felt as though you wanted to throw up for some reason. It suddenly hit you how light-headed you were, resting your weight against the deteriorated wood beam. Every inch of your body just felt hot and sticky, it was almost like you could feel Henry on your skin right now, and you just wanted to claw it all off. Suddenly your body just felt almost foreign to you, as if it wasn’t even yours, your first instinct was shoving off your coat! Literally tossing the piece of colored fur into the nearest bush, hoping that would give you some relief, it was probably 20 degrees outside yet you were damn near sweating! Shaky legs wobbled down the steps...slowly moving to the side of the house, “Tae!?” Silence, and you really hate silence.. “Fuckkkkk '' Hastily running your fingers through your hair, tugging slightly against your scalp..wanting the tension as you tried to wreck your brain!

I mean he could only be so many places and now you were nervous because he’s impulsive and hot-headed and he’d be the type to just take off and walk with no clue where the hell; he was going!

Suddenly you had an idea, something you actually learned from his mother back when you guys were younger and he’d go into shut down mode like this! You slowly started walking towards the back of the house “ Tae-hyung ” This time it was softer as you put emphasise on the proper pronunciation of his name. Then you asked him where he was, and if he was okay, all in the same soft tenor. Only this time you found yourself oh so thankful that you’d picked up the language over the years!

Opting for Korean since that is technically the first language he’s ever known so sometimes even when he’s not thinking he’ll respond on autopilot! Then,just as you were about to give up, he responded. Tentatively..and slightly hushed, it was clear he was further away than you thought… randomly you started asking him stuff. Nothing intense just random little questions so you could follow the sound of his voice and this man was damn near in the alleyway!

Sitting in a low squat, you could already see even from a couple feet away that apparently his fist had ran into someone again. His long delicate hands were currently a bouquet of blue, red and purple. As he sat there wordlessly clenching his fist as hard as he could..wanting to amplify the pain that streamed through his veins. Aimlessly gazing straight ahead, as the wind swept through his hair, he actually looked extremely peaceful, almost like you were watching a piece of art.

You didn't say anything as you approached him, just crouching down beside him, yet to your surprise, he actually made eye contact and fuck you wish he hadn't. You couldn't even read the expression that danced with those dark brown orbs of his...everything was just black! And what wasn’t was, completely bloodshot. Cheeks clearly tear-stained, nose red..yet he just looked empty, not sad, hurt, angry..just empty!

Reaching up to tentatively stroke his cheek, his hand reaching yours before you could even make contract, not that you were surprised, those Kim reflexes are something else! What did have you surprised was how hard his hand was shaking once it met yours. Attempting to pull away, assuming he didn't want to be touched right now, only he tightened his grip once he felt your resistance. “Tae I-”

“I love you…”

HI, HI lol I know...I know….as I said this will be in 2 parts..I wanna actually finish the full thing before I post it though so that way I can post P2 a week or 2 later! But who knows..I have P1 more than halfway done I may just post that first and have Part 2 come when it comes...if you guys enjoyed and are excited show this some love and come lemme know! I’m Tech on hiatus until sometimes in January but we shall see....

LOVE YOU GUYS AS ALWAYS,

ROCKI

#taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung mafia au #kim taehyung #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung mafia au #bts #bts smut #bts au #bts mafia au #kpop #kpop smut #kpop mafia au #taehyung au

119 notes · View notes

amicicidalgambler · 4 years

Text

=> Aboard the Starbase Frontier.

infiniteproxy You'd die before admitting to the loathsome existential dread that has you by the throat, as your waiting has whittled down to weeks, then days-- now mere hours, poised and awaiting word to set everything into motion.

You wonder if Vriska truly comprehends the extent of all that you stand to give up-- if anyone who has never been helmed ever could. To allow yourself to be pulled from the rig, from your systems, from half of your self; to diminish yourself by choice, confined to a crippled body, to pitiful senses and nothing but silence beyond the churning chaos of your own thoughts for the foreseeable future...

You have to keep your sights on what lay further beyond, and excise the rest. Fear was unacceptable, and you will not hesitate.

You have done all that you possibly can to prepare, including the gradual strategic abandonment of one of the cargo bays, which now lay in wait devoid of personnel. All that remains is to trigger a station-wide lockdown and hope that the quarantine protocols hold long enough to allow Vriska time to move unimpeded. Beyond that...

One way or another, your life as you currently know it will end this night.

amicicidalgambler And so will yours.

You've been suiting up for your mission in the same meticulous way that you start every evening. You carved out every angle of your face with makeup even though half of it was going to be hidden under a mask, you perfectly plaited your hair that was going to stay tucked underneath your clothes, you fussed over your clothes even though you had a leather jacket and boots and pads to carefully layer over it all.

And as you do, you wonder if Goldwave has any idea about what you're keeping behind the curtain. Once this was over you wanted to let him in on everything, but you had no idea what he suspected. Could he tell that you were in love? See the kind of purpose you were following? You doubted it. Nobody looks at someone like you and thinks you're happy, after all.

But either way, you wanted this terrible cantankerous bastard in your life, and, well. Rescuing a helmsman you saw as family was a real test for what you've been learning, wasn't it?

Nadaya had provided you with all the weapons you needed. A few good guns, more knives than even you knew what to do with. That and a single-use transportalizer (with a spare) was all you would need. You kissed him before you put your mask on, spent a minute with him before you steeled your nerves. Then you sent a message to Goldwave, the last one for now, saying to ready for your arrival. One zap to that empty cargo bay, and you'd be there.

Time to raise hell.

infiniteproxy The message, when it comes, is a shock to your system; while not dispelling the fear, it galvanizes you. This was the point of no return.

Over the course of the past week, you'd ever so carefully manipulated the schedules of in- and outbound vessels. You wanted this swarming hive of a starbase to be as empty as it would ever get, and now the moment you'd both been preparing for with nerves on a knife's edge had come.

You initiate quarantine protocol, and transmit the coordinates for cargo bay 4.

infiniteProxy: lockdown is in place. you may proceed.

amicicidalgambler There is no pause as you appear in the bay and security feeds of the Starbase Frontier. You already know where the door is, and your mind is already shuffling to the first step of your plan like a stacked deck of cards, so you simply begin a confident stride towards the nearest hall.

First things first, you need your backup. Two low-grade psions, working conveniently close to your point of entry, sticking out like a sore thumb in the herd of scurrying midbloods you could see in your mind's eye. You see them, and you seize them. Every thought they were having halts, and their nerves freeze and scream at them to run, fucking RUN to your location. They'd be here in a moment.

Second, you need your intel. With a single flex against his mind, roughly equivalent to a polite knock, you worm into Goldwave's pan just as forcefully. His pan is nothing like the other two, with all the buzzing energy of stellar class psionics and a riled mind and also the entire goddamn base, but you can handle it. You can handle it fine. You just- need a single expected second, to breathe and settle as a weight behind his eyes.

And after that second, there'd be a thought louder than all his others flashing into his mind: Status? You needed him to focus on what's happening on his own so you can see.

infiniteproxy You have your eyes on the prize the moment they arrive-- though, strictly speaking, you were the prize. But your cameras and attention are trained most immediately on the cargo bay and the corridors just beyond.

The intrusion is disorienting, momentarily distracting you from your surveillance. More than that, it's a jolt of not-quite-familiarity that Vriska will likely notice, which you also push away. The sensation is achingly similar, but the touch of their mind feels quite different-- something you're thankful for.

You need to focus for both your sakes, now.

Swiftly, you dismiss as many irrelevant readouts as you can, concentrate on what's useful: the layout of the starbase's interior, with the path to the helm highlighted, crew stations and movements, camera feeds.

i will keep the ranking officers at bay for as long as possible, but it will not hold forever. they will be attempting to discern the cause for the lockdown. this is your opportunity. make good use of it.

amicicidalgambler ...There was a real thrill in having all that at your fingertips, but you couldn't linger on it.

Instead, you run out into the corridor just as your controlled help arrives. Their powers were an extension of yours now, and your guns flew out from your arms and into theirs. You unstrapped the last one with one arm, and started tossing out Magic 8 Balls from your sylladex with the other. They floated into the air, all being crushed at once in a little psionic flare and exploding into a cloud of knives.

The Starbase Frontier was somewhat wheel shaped, and you were on the outermost ring. The nearest spoke of halls would lead you right to where you needed to be- but every other spoke would lead your enemies to the same thing. The cloud parted with a single push, and swirled around you and your pawns. You would run down the spoke closest to this cargo bay, while you would flank yourself with the other two trolls.

You only had one question worth asking as you started running into the maw: What about the auxiliary helms?

infiniteproxy Oh, you're going to miss being able to multitask like this... Keeping a close eye on Vriska and their newly-conscripted "assistants" (ah, what a show!), while continuing to maintain awareness of the rest of the station and thwart the attempts of those on the bridge to override the lockdown.

The 3D overlay lights up the path and entrance to the lower helmsblock, which, though mechanically connected, does not share an easily accessible entryway with your own. Either could be sealed independently, in case of damage or sabotage, as they now have been with lockdown in place. You're already working on bypassing the security protocols.

You also bring up their statistics-- power rating, neural imprint, vitals, etc.

amicicidalgambler Multitasking is almost your thing too. Almost.

You grab the minds of the auxiliary helms in a move that makes you violently flinch and shudder. If one helmsman is loud, then three is deafening, nothing but a full chorus of buzzing power boiling under your skin. They seize too, as you force them to halt every process that can be halted, until you can steer them towards literally anything else.

Because you can't let it stop you from your other current issue. A starbase on its emptiest night is still a starbase with people. There's stationed security and a few scuttling stragglers from the lockdown in the corridors, and they all need to be out of your goddamn way.

So you and your backup greet each one with a volley of psionic knives. To the neck, the eyes, the hands, gaps in armor, it doesn't matter- they all dance around each victim and stab any available piece of meat until they're a corpse riddled with bleeding holes. But through the feeds, it would be obvious that you weren't using your senses to guide any of it. You were entirely in your head, relying on the network of mind's eyes to plan every move.

infiniteproxy Your awareness of the other two suddenly splits in the strangest way-- you feel them withdraw from all but the most vital core systems, while at the same time experiencing a sort of vague, formless echo of them through Vriska. They're as nothing next to you-- not nearly so powerful, minds far more complacent, far more broken to their work. But altogether, the sensation of all three and everything you encompass at once must be distinctly overwhelming.

And even so... It's a sight to behold, the way Vriska storms onward like a whirling dervish, slicing, stabbing, cutting down anyone who stood in their way. Yet so detached, every action driven by something far more internal than psi alone. It's fascinating. You're grinning-- or perhaps you're snarling, teeth bared in savage glee even as you attempt to stymie the commander's demands for answers.

"Helmsman! Report."

"Status uncertain. Recommend full system scan."

"Then get on with it. If this is another one of your little games, I'll have you dismantled, do you hear me?"

"I assure you, Commander..."

A commotion-- a burst of static, a frantic voice over personal communicator, an aborted scream--

INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT.

"...this is no game."

Ah, well. Now things would get interesting.

security is en route to the habitation ring. be ready.

amicicidalgambler I can see them.

Or their pans, anyways. Between the glittering of their minds in physical space and the layout in Goldwave's head, it seemed like there'd definitely be some company by time you crossed this last stretch of hallway to the next ring. By time your pawns caught up from the adjacent wings, it'd be a straight up party. Fabulous.

Between now and then you'd almost have everything handled. The trolls you'd caught off guard were easy to pick off and butcher, you had plans for how to handle more of a skirmish. But there was one more thing that needed your attention.

A thought would enter the headspace of the auxiliary helms, loudly. Your primary helmsman is about to get his freedom, you said. I can't give you the same, but I can help you. What do you want?

And it would beat in their heads until you got an answer.

infiniteproxy Both would jerk against the wires at that sudden, insistent demand-- the voice that was not a voice, the thought that was not their own, the will of the one who held them in compulsion and yet-- offering help?

A clamor of disjointed feelings and impulses; fear, confusion, rejection. Hope, pleading, anger.

One cringes away, seeking refuge in the programming-- fearing the punishment sure to follow if they spoke out of line.

From the other, a spark not quite snuffed out, flaring to life-- they'd had friends, quads, a life, all torn away.

The idea of freedom beyond death in the rig feels impossible, yet neither do they wish for it. What kindness could this intruder even have the power to offer them?

But a thought resonates between them; fearful, resentful, yet in this both of one mind, for sweeps of callous treatment and grueling use. They'd helmed the base in tandem for a long while before the third had been brought in, pushed to their limits in the interim between one primary and another, with not a bare word of appreciation, only endless demands.

... make them pay ...

amicicidalgambler There was a laugh as you stabbed the last troll in your path to the habitation ring.

This place is going to be a fucking corpse pile when I'm done with it.

And that was an understatement. The bodies you were leaving now were just the start, the plans you had for the rest of this place were... far more elaborate. Messy. Fun.

But there has to be survivors.

It was a stipulation Goldwave himself gave you. Someone had to be alive to spread the word of the Starbase Frontier. This stupid fucking Empire had to know that a helmsman arranged his own escape and had the crew of his prison slaughtered. Here, this was his triumph to have, his mark to make on the universe. You were just hired help. Very enthusiastic, completely pro-bono hired help.

Your knives and gun were already poised at your next target, and you opened the door to the next sector.

Would you like this place to yourselves?

infiniteproxy Emotions shift to wonder-guilt-vindication-excitement-regret. It's thrilling (it's terrifying). They want to see those preening highbloods get what's coming to them (they don't want innocents to get hurt).

Survivors, though...

Is it relieving? Yes-no-maybe-sort of. Ripples of uncertainty. What would come next? What would happen to them in the aftermath? (What difference would it make, if nothing ever changed?)

Then a flash of personnel files drawn up, ones you hadn't bothered with-- the low-caste crewmen, the ones tasked with menial jobs, the ones caught in the spokes of the wheel just as they were.

Some, perhaps, soon to be or already dead. There wasn't much room for compromise. But even so...

... show them who deserved to die ...

amicicidalgambler This base didn't have much lowblood crew in the first place. The personnel files you had gotten from Goldwave made that explicitly clear. For some godforsaken reason, this place was fucking crawling with trolls around your hue instead. Teals, ceruleans, blues, all with rather middle of the road qualifications and clean records. It was a fucking trash heap of bureaucratic losers. In the flood of cool-toned pans, anyone with a controllable blood color was practically neon bright to you.

Which also meant it was very easy for you to tell that none of them had gotten roped into this welcome party. Before the door was even fully open, you hurdled through, firing your knives and letting loose a wild spray of bullets. You... weren't the best shot. You were 100% trying to compensate with an automatic rifle. Whatever.

Trolls hit the floor and you sprint for the next hall, your knives flying from corpses to the closest round of new targets. Until you reach the door, at least, at which point they fly back to slip through behind you and form another cloud. That's when your backup lands, blasting through anyone else in much the same way. They'd make their way to the door, and keep anyone from coming in behind you.

Next stop: Your brother.

infiniteproxy The two of them fade into the background, mentally vibrating with tension, able to do nothing but watch-- and wait.

Could one troll alone -- mindcontrolled lackeys aside -- actually bring this station down? Starbase Frontier was far from a prestigious posting, but neither was it some slipshod affair... But it seemed anything could be possible, with a little help from the inside.

Help that watches, too, with bated breath, attention trained on the spray of bullets, on Vriska's forward progress and every fallen body.

spectacular.

There are guards stationed outside the entrance to the primary helmsblock, of course. They'd been there before the lockdown, and they'd be damned if they left their posts for anything. The commander, of course, is convinced of your involvement by now-- But have any of them truly realized what Vriska's goal is?

If they did, they'd be massing right there to hold off a potential breach, but -- though there are many rushing to try to intercept -- it doesn't seem as though they've put the pieces together just yet. All the better. You want to relish this.

amicicidalgambler The guards come under fire as soon as you can make the shot, and you laugh as the sound echoes down the hall. This was all too precise for you to let yourself get all orange-eyed and crazy, but the adrenaline was still getting you to loosen up.

That and the sheer anticipation. You were nowhere near finished, but you moments from seeing Goldwave face to face. Just one more door, a few more steps, a little more time...

These fuckers need a little special attention first, though. Once they fall, you float your rifle up above you, and settle a knife into each hand to replace it. The corpses were lifted to meet you, and you dug the blade deep into their stomachs, carving through the flesh. Their own hands are puppeteered with psionics to plunge into the wounds, pulling out their own entrails before they're left to be a mess on the floor.

As you waltz into the helmsblock, a blood-spattered assassin and a glittering cloud of weapons, you make them paint out eye symbols and a few random ominous words with their blood. You order your help to come into the hall after you, to try and guard this entire side of the helmsblock. But it's all background noise to you. You're so happy to see him.

infiniteproxy You're practically incandescent with vicious delight. No one would be able to hear the ragged cackle of your echoed laugh, behind the helmsblock's soundproofed walls, with your feed to the bridge cut off, but surely Vriska must feel it.

You're straining against the wires, what little you can. You'd be damn near holding your breath if you could. It's practically artful, gory and glorious, blood and viscera strewn about your corridors like a consecration. You almost wish there were more to watch, but the door to the helmsblock has finally, finally slid open.

Anticipation was a heady and terrible drug, indeed.

All these perigees, all this planning, and now the moment you'd hardly allowed yourself to believe in until it had come-- to meet face to face, or as close as could be, with half your face obscured from where you loom above. But you watch their entrance in high definition, from half a dozen angles, and your grin is sharp as knives.

You've seen better days, to be sure. You may be a yellow pushing the half-century mark, but you're less worn with age than rough use. But those rebels were accustomed to rehabilitating helmsmen forcibly ripped from their rigs. Assuming you survived the next few minutes, your recovery, little as you want to spare much thought for the process, would at least be in better hands than you could ever face here.

"Welcome," you rasp, and the weight of everything unsaid within that single word hangs like thunderheads in the air between you, charged with potential. But anything more would have to wait, and for now you spare your wreck of a voice.

once i disconnect, i will not be able to assist in any meaningful way. you are prepared for your next move?

amicicidalgambler The only reason his emotions weren't being dulled down by everything else going on in your head was that they paired so well with yours. The droning buzz of psionic power, the last moments of connection anyone would have to the beating heart of the Starbase Frontier, your rush from the action matched by his rush of near-freedom.

You couldn't take your mask off, you needed your face obscured in here more than anywhere else, but you'd painted the front with a set of gold fangs. Between those and your eyes, you match him perfectly.

I'm prepared, you tell him, and you can't hesitate for a second.

The cloud of weapons float to the ceiling, protectively circling the rig, and you take your final knife off your person. It's a big unwieldy thing, not made for fighting, but that's not what it was for. With somewhere between the delicate touch you'd treat his actual ransacked self with and the firm grip of someone who spent a wrigglerhood with sea-ship rigging, you hoist yourself up by the biowire and find a secure spot to hang behind him. Then, finally, finally, you take the blade to wire and start to carve Goldwave out of his prison.

Meanwhile, you were still ordering your pawns to fend off goons as they came. Meanwhile, you still had to hold control over the auxiliary helms while they waited for everything to unfold. Meanwhile, you were tracking the glittering pans of all the lowblood crew and assessing the best moment to seize them.

But phase 1 of your plan was almost done. Goldwave was about to be free.

infiniteproxy You've never been one who cared anything for being understood. Your kismesis had been the only one to ever strip away all those layers of obfuscation and posturing, to dig down deep and lay bare the truth of you and laugh as she did. You'd loathed her for it even as you'd surrendered to it, and vowed to never allow anyone to know you as surely as she did.

All your dulled edges were of your own doing, but this rang true between you. What Vriska understood, they had no need to take; you were already of the same mind. It came naturally, without effort, without any need to explain, because it was obvious.

It was, upon reflection, a strangely gratifying feeling.

But there was no more time for ruminating on such things.

And no need to tell them to proceed-- they're already in motion, and you're prodding at systems you're not even supposed to have access to, directing the metal sheathing that shields parts of your rig to retract and leave the bare, fleshy wires exposed. Exposed to their knife, that flashes and cuts. It doesn't hurt, exactly, but that almost might have been preferable-- it's still a part of yourself that's slowly being sawed and severed, separating troll from machine with your mind still bridging the two until the very last moment. The sensation is disorienting, sickening, fleshy cables slowly parting one by one and with each your link to the whole of Starbase Frontier grows increasingly more patchy and dim.

Now is the time to make your temporary exit from the group chat in suitably dramatic fashion, before the connection is lost without your input. Now is the time for one last, private exchange, before closing that channel for good.

Your body shudders and writhes as your systems are assaulted by error messages of increasing urgency, of garbled data and sensory malfunctions, life support functions failing. It's almost too much to bear, now, being torn between-- you'll have to let go soon.

amicicidalgambler The whole time you could feel what he was going through, but just as an echo through your control. A little fraction of the agony. So you stay as calm as possible, for him. It was the best through-line you could give- the constant feel of your focused mind gripped around his as you cut through the biomass and all his senses overwhelmed him. Even with the loss of extremities you've been through, you knew you couldn't imagine what this is like for him.

It was very literally like holding someone's hand through a field amputation. A necessary comfort, sure, but at the end of the night it was something only he could come to terms with. He would have to let go.

And so would you, apparently.

Someone lunges, grabbing the few inches of braid above your jacket collar and yanking you down. Immediately, you flip your blade and hack wildly at the offending fingers, doing anything to regain your balance and get some distance before attacking any further. You didn't strictly need it when your arsenal was full of floating knives, but it's what your fighting instincts were screaming at you. Out of close range, out of arm's reach, NOW-

infiniteproxy It is a comfort, to their credit, however feeble it may have been against the experience of being cut loose. To no exaggeration, this is the worst thing you have ever experienced. Even the actual loss of limbs had been far less thoroughly agonizing-- and your left leg had been almost entirely severed without any surgical intervention whatsoever.

One arm, and then the other cut down, leaving you to slump against the wires still holding your twitching frame in place. The left, though bony and frail, was at least otherwise intact, but though the right hand still remained, it was paralyzed and useless, withered by atrophy and nerve damage.

Behind the headgear still awaiting removal, your eyes are wide and staring, blood dripping down your chin from where you've bitten your lips and tongue bloody. It's all you can do to keep from screaming, and it resounds silently in your head, an echo of the cacophony of every system gone haywire.

The sudden jolt, Vriska's alarm and immediate reflex, takes you completely by surprise; once the process had begun, there was no way you could keep your attention on the cameras, the crew, any of it, to anticipate the surprise assault. The disruption of that singleminded focus is all it takes to shatter yours-- sparks coursing up and down the wires as the measures to keep your power contained and properly siphoned fail.

amicicidalgambler The loss of control feels awful, but you have more pressing issues. Your assailant pulls you in by your hair, trying to grapple the rest of you, but you hit your mark that same moment. One strike and your knife digs into their hand, forcing their grip to falter. Another, and it goes clean through into their other arm.

Clean through your braid, that is. You shove your opponent and it falls to the floor, the remainder already unraveling as you scramble for space. Your eyes flush orange, and you give a growling screech as you finally see the motherfucker who dared attack you.

Before you stands the commander of the Starbase Frontier. His face is one you remember quite well from the files; he was the most punchable looking blueblood you'd ever seen, and his record only complimented his looks. Nothing but above average accomplishments in imperial groveling, leading to a dead-end job on the outer rim. He tsks at your state, seemingly unbothered by both you and the blood pouring out of him. The uninjured hand even goes to rest on a holstered pistol.

"I am placing you under imperial arrest," he says, "for tampering with the Starbase Frontier's primary helmsman, amongst several other charges. If you put down your weapon and surrender now, I will take you into custody, and we may still resolve this matter peacefully."

So you shoot him. To the bitch's credit, he's fast, zig-zagging the distance as you fire, but it gets a lot harder for him to dodge bullets when you snake your knives around him and try to block his every move. In return he goes for pot shots with his stupid standard-issue peashooter, and you have to keep on top of his injured aim. The two of you weave in front of Goldwave, him landing a few grazes and you riddling him with holes. He falters first, overwhelmed by the pain. You drive each and every one of your psionic knives into him, and then force them through the flesh, carving the commander to pieces as he screams to his death. His head you cleanly slice off and sylladex. The rest... you have plans for.

infiniteproxy It's an assault from every angle; blaring alarms, overlapping error messages, data streams disintegrating, pain-not-pain and noise within and without. Glitching camera readouts and audio feeds, giving a fractured picture of the struggle that goes on around you. The commander's insufferable posturing, Vriska's feral growl, and your own hoarse voice giving sound to that turmoil-- or is that only in your head, still? You can't tell anymore.

The lines between body and machine, ship and troll, were now not so much blurred as splintering into one another, your awareness spread far too thin one moment, then contracted awfully the next. Bullets whiz past, someone shouting over the staccato bursts of gunfire, and then-- a gruesome, gurgling scream.

One swift slice later, and the commander's headless body crumpling to the blood-slick floor is the last image you manage to capture on your cameras before everything goes dark, your link to the Starbase Frontier -- to everything you've been for the past three sweeps -- finally severed for good while you still had the presence of mind to make the choice yourself.

It's just you, now; a troll caught among the wires, nothing but this ruined flesh, the rising tide of your thoughts and the black hole within your chest. One cage for another.

amicicidalgambler One of your pawns is sent through the helmsblock to the other entrance, to cover the door that the commander had come through. You, meanwhile, wipe his blue blood off the knife you were using on the rig, and go to finish the job you started.

Goldwave's control over his psionics was slipping, but you could take care of the problem at the source. You knew how it was all supposed to be feel normally, so you could forcibly keep his powers at bay with yours. And then, for safety, you float over pieces of the commander's corpse and let the wires shock that bitch instead of you before you go back to hacking through biowire.

There's one more step you need, though. You take an 8 ball out of your sylladex and open it with a clean crack. It produces what could generously be called a knapsack, a hand-sewn thing with one big padded pocket and straps, and you lay it in front of the rig. With that in place, you carve away the last of the wires and, with a quick warning of the imminent manhandling, scoop Goldwave up gently and put him in the bag. There were a few extra straps to keep his atrophied arms in place, and then you'd both be ready for your escape.

The straps go around your shoulders, your gun lowers into your hands, and you lift yourself by your assistant's psionics into the air. There was no way to make this comfortable, but hovering would be a faster and smoother ride for getting the fuck out of here.

infiniteproxy It's a mercy, at least, that now you only feel the wires snapping as a strange, distant sort of twinge. Psi crackles along your skin, along the wires, like blood from an unstaunched wound, until Vriska's presence wrests it under control once more. So long, so long since you'd had any means of exercising it under your own power; that too would be something you'd have to relearn, in time.

You droop when the wires still tethering your headset to the upper column snap free-- then finally, even that is worked off and dropped aside, and you can open your eyes to your surroundings for the first time in perigees.

Making sense of the direct visual input, dazzled and dazed by light and the entire ordeal, is slow to come; sooner, you feel yourself pulled from the last, lingering embrace of biowire, dripping tendrils clinging to the stumps of your legs.

At least you're in no state to remark on the indignity of being stuffed into a bag and carried around like an object, or even a bit of added discomfort; you're really in an appalling amount of pain as it is, labored breath rasping in your throat. But you're not so far gone as to be numb to your imminent triumph, to the vicious satisfaction of seeing the commander strewn in slightly singed chunks across the floor.

There's a bit of a commotion at the far door, Vriska's borrowed help fending off a crewman attempting to force their way through. You pay them no mind, clearing your throat experimentally and making a game attempt at catching your breath. Your voice may be a wreck, but it's yours, and right now that counts for something.

"What... now?"

amicicidalgambler "Now," you answer, "We massacre the rest of these idiots, and get the fuck out of here."

And in the relative peace of the moment, now was your time to handle the lowblooded crew before that happened. You took a deep breath and wormed into all their minds at once, trying to hold yourself steady. The strain was- fine, it was fine, as far as body count this was nothing, but managing to let these fuckers ambush you was not a great sign for your focus. You could do better. You had to.

Each and every one of the sub-teal crewmates would stop dead in their tracks, seized by your puppet strings. They'd start calmly filing away to any little hidden niche you'd seen in the maps, their movements robotic and unnatural. It couldn't look like anyone was fleeing from their posts, it had to be even more undeniably mind control than anything else you were doing.

And you, with Goldwave over your shoulder, would fly. Just a little, a touch faster than you could run, onto the bridge and into the action. A bit of height gave you and your assistant a lot of cover, forcing anyone in the way to choose between two equally swift targets that were not only shooting them down, but shooting dozens of knives to follow up on the kill. Blue blood was being spattered at an alarming pace.

infiniteproxy At least the full weight of the station and all of its systems was gone, now. The other two were still there, firmly rooted in all the most essential functions, but it was a reprieve, at least, if a small one. And you were free. Very soon you would leave this place and never look back.

Yet how strange... That the Starbase Frontier would be a place now and nothing more. No part of yourself remained, nor wished to. It had never been you. But it had been yours, all the same... And this, in a way, was like looking out at your own corpse.

The bridge, when you reach it, is swarming with activity. Someone had managed to push through far enough into the helmsblock to catch a glimpse of the commander's dismembered body and report back; now his first officer is barking orders, attempting to call in reinforcements, to wrest unresponsive systems back into control, to figure out if there were any other invaders.

And in seconds, it all erupts.

Bullets, blades, and blood-- the tealblood's voice rising in disbelieving fury above it all as she ducks for cover. "Shoot them! Kill them both!"

But trolls fall all around her, consoles exploding in showers of sparks, coolant spraying from ruptured conduits. It would all be over soon.

amicicidalgambler All over soon, but not before you attended to that noisy little tealblood that was causing such a fuss. A fleet of knives go flying across the room and turn sharply around to pin her down in her hiding place. Either by blade placement or by sheer pain, she wouldn't be going anywhere. She'd be forced to stay and scream as every other troll in the room fell. Then, her head would be sliced off, and floated to the centermost console to drip all over the broken controls.

Your other assistant was bringing up the rear of your murder operation, covering the same ground as you from the helmsblocks to the bridge in the central spire. They, however, had a very important job. Their knives would dive hilt-first into the pools of blood that were now littering every other inch of the Starbase Frontier, and draw patterns in a flurry to cover all the blank space. Eyes connecting to condemnations connecting to mouths connecting to damn near every little ominous soundbyte you knew off the top of your head. Up the walls when you could, across the ceiling when you could, with no regard for direction.

The bridge you do yourself, with Goldwave by your side, so to speak. Fractal, spiraling patterns of one shade of blood leading to another, all painted simultaneously, leading to a longer phrase you'd memorized in his home dialect. It'd be scattered here and there all amongst everything else, but writing it out in big spattered letters right in front of the captain's station seemed like a suiting place.

Gelangweilt von der Ewige Wiederkunft des Gleichen, it read. Bored by the eternal return of the same.

The other half of the middle sectors was next. You laughed as you flew yourself to the next set of corridors.

infiniteproxy Shrieks of rage turn to screams of pain, to choking, gasping, as a dozen knives find purchase through flesh and hold her there amidst the slaughter to bear witness. One by one the remaining bridge crew fall, several turning to try and flee only to be cut down just the same, and then--

A body slumped to the floor, a severed head anointing the controls with her blood.

You watch, rapt, as once-pristine surfaces are defaced with a cool-hued rainbow in streaks and swirls and smears. A huge swatch right across the captain's console gradually coalesces into legible script, the harsh lines of a harsh tongue that still felt more comfortable than Common ever would.

And when you realize, though nearly silent, your laughter echoes their own as the two of you speed down the passageways of a station once bustling with life, now drenched in death.

amicicidalgambler It was a lot harder to miss when you were so close, and it made you damn near fucking glow with love. You could feel a ghost of every emotion that was present in your enemies- their rage, their fear, their grief, their panic- and it always paired so nicely with the adrenaline and sheer sadism that pumped through you while you watched trolls get eviscerated. But all the round warmth of carrying Goldwave through it made you feel practically fucking invincible.

The bulk of the remaining bodies they had to throw at you were arranged in the middle ring. There were still more officers onboard the ship, more lackeys barking orders to try and maintain the last semblance of order this ship would ever see, but with their commander and first officer gone there was only so much they could do. Only so much training they could rely on. Only so many ways they could even pretend to be the superior of the trolls they were sending out to try and stop you.

With one of your pawns at each side, you burst in with electric fanfare. They'd skitter about the ground, you'd flit above, and every motherfucker in your way would fall. You'd brought enough bullets to keep the suppressive spray almost endless, and with the dozens of flocks of knives you were dancing from target to target, the rest of your offense was just as unceasing. More and more try to flee as the dead pile up, their morale failing with their defenses, but you take any potshot you can to stop them. They could be crawling wrecks scraping themselves along the floor for all you care, as long as they die in the end.

And oh, how they die in the end. One by one they drop until there's nothing but dripping, mangled corpses spread across the halls, another landscape of useless bodies with spaces in between to paint with their blood. It would all have that same beautiful horrorshow transformation, and then-

Then you'd be on to the hivestretch.

infiniteproxy You have no skill whatsoever with reading the subtler emotions of others. You're not psychic; you're certainly no empath; and on the surface, they tend to confound you more than anything. What Vriska might be feeling in response to your unfettered delight (beyond the obvious in which you share) is entirely a mystery from your current perspective.

But you're riding a manic adrenaline high that you only hope might carry you until you're home free to suffer the crash, and the gateway to all your wildest dreams is opening right before your eyes with no more than a chasm of hellfire to bridge the expanse, and those little personal touches, well...

Gratitude doesn't come easily, to someone like you, to say nothing of fondness. But it's there all the same, that undercurrent of warmth and fierce pride.

...you might, also, be slightly feverish. Terrors knew your body chemistry was probably in a free-fall, what with being separated unceremoniously from the rig's imposed life support functions. But there are people whose job it is to deal with all that messy business. You just have to make it there in one piece, unlike these poor bastards whose doom has come early, leaving them strewn across the floor, piled against the walls, once-trolls reduced to so much offal.

Likely a few have managed to make it to the shuttles and escape, by now; likely a distress beacon has been sent out. You have no way of knowing for certain any longer, but neither does it matter. No one would be able to respond quickly enough to make a difference. They would only know that Starbase Frontier fell on this day-- and if they did not yet understand why, they would soon enough.

amicicidalgambler You were the one with a link to the ship now, and only indirectly. Through the eyes of the auxiliary helms, you were confirming those same suspicions: A few idiots had slipped out through the escape vessels, a couple others had sent out a general cry for help to the empire. Both of those wouldn't even be obstacles on your joyride out of here.

Only scraps of the crew remained, and few were even trying to hold their ground. They ran to any hiding place they knew of aboard the ship, anywhere that they could wait out your bloodlust- only to find that they were already occupied. Taken by other crew, the lowbloods you'd stashed, who would turn to stare at them with blank eyes and tell them that they did not belong here. That the intruders would only find them faster here. Which was true, even, seeing as those encounters could be followed like flares to hunt down your targets.

You knife down one, then another, then another...

The last crew member of the Starbase Frontier, a cerulean pencil-pusher, had been through your little routine three times now, and she was running out of options. You didn't have time to toy with her, but with the mental map you had, you could send yourself and your pawns down just the right hallways to quietly corner her at an intersection. She sees your pawn, turn and sees another, and then she sees you and screams.

She's a panicked mess within seconds, shaking and sobbing, and the two gunshots she takes to the legs don't help. Her whole body crumples under the pain, and she pleads, pleads for you to spare her, she didn't think there was anyone else, and you sink a blade into her arm. Stammering through the tears, barely comprehensible, she says she'll do anything, anything to keep her life, to stay alive even though everyone around her was dead- And you sink in another. Another below her ribs. A fourth in her stomach. You move them through her flesh like saws, up and down, tortuously slow, until the shrieking and crying finally stops. From your perspective, it's hard to tell if it's the damage that kills her, or the blood loss, or the sheer shock, but you don't even care. All that matters to you is that you have one last corpse to desecrate before you can leave.

You put a hand at the top of one of your bag's straps, not touching Goldwave at all, but miming it. "Anything you want for this one?"

infiniteproxy So much you can't see, now. So empty. So small. Blind. Deaf.

You're keeping it at bay for now, but later-- Well. Later would come later, if it came at all.

For now, there is only the thrill of the slaughter, that primal triumph, as chase is given to fleeing prey, those who attempt to hide flushed out into the open once more only to be mercilessly cut down. You only wish you could be taking part right alongside them, with psi blazing or knife in hand as they tear a whirlwind of death through the straggling survivors, but this... Ah, this is almost as good. A deadly performance, all for you.

It's almost a shame, when finally one alone is left. Some nobody in administration, whose only real fault was being assigned to the wrong base at the wrong time. To her credit, she's kept herself alive this long, scurrying from one corner to the next in a desperate bid to escape the inevitable. But now there would be no more running.

Poor thing. You could almost feel sorry for her, if you had ever really been capable of feeling any such thing. And her pleading was so very satisfying.

Something like a shrug, a slight tightening of your arms, is about all you can manage right now, but there are teeth behind your labored words.

"Flay her open... Stake her out to-- greet those who come to see."

amicicidalgambler "Can do."

The knives buried in the flesh of your victim dislodge themselves, and you orchestrate them all in a careful dissection. Lines are cut all over her body, panels of skin and muscle are carved and pulled back, all her organs are toyed with into a perfect desecration. With the blood, you surround her with a pattern of eyes, a set of feathered wings, and in big mocking letters, "Welcome to the Starbase Frontier!"

And just like that... it's over. Goldwave has been retrieved, every target has been killed, and you tick to the final step of your plan like clockwork. You drag yourself and your pawns to the nearest cargo bay, and sylladex your weapons in exchange for the last few things you needed. First, two bottles of unopened psionic strain medication, which are tossed to the trolls you've been controlling before you shoo them out of the room. Your control over them, and also everyone else alive on the ship, would release the moment you left the timeline, and they could either choose to accept your gesture or not.

Second, you had a single use transportalizer pad, which would explode upon your departure. It was actually the same kind that Karkat had used to take you to the base sweeps ago, an irony that you found completely obnoxious. But it was the only thing that could get you to... The quietest spot on Nadaya's ship, of course, where you let several Magic 8 Balls worth of weapons crash unceremoniously onto the floor, causing a small flood of knives and guns and ammo to clatter and bounce and generally go all over the fucking place. You were not about to have someone get on your ass for contraband after everything you've just been through.

The single-use junk couldn't have the correct permissions anyways. From here, you could you warp both of you to the spot Sparks always arrived at after his raids. If time was on your side, he'd have just hauled in his quota of rescued psionics minus exactly one, a helm in terrible disrepair that you currently had in your backpack. But it was all up to luck at this point, so the only way to find out was to press the button on the transportalizer and see.

centaurstechnician Ah home. The lovely scent of slightly different recycled air, cultured with mold spores and dandruff from different sources than Goldwave is used to. Subtle but distinct, the same way their specific laundry deturgent and cleaners soaked into every surface and clung to the clothes and skin of those who lived there.

Vriska and Goldwave weren't sppotted right off the bat, there was the usual chaos, psions rescued (the scent of blood was mostly from them) in a state of disrepair from their capture by the people Sparks had gone after today, there were nurses- and Equius, all out there doing triage and sorting people into who needed the most attention immediately and who was going to be a problem- none of these were volenteers into the program so they weren't expecting any issues with them.

Sparks and Salinx had already dissappeared to debrief and get a shower, leaving Equius 'Engineer' Zahhak to handle this chaos, as they did every time.

He was frowning, tapping his tablet, issuing orders, trying to figure out why their numbers weren't adding up with furrowed brows, Perhaps a typo, or they were mistaken? The intellegence was usually very good for these missions.

He wore a very dramatic mediculler's coat, sleeves stained with yellow red and brown where he'd already helped get the worst into stable condition and off to the bowels of the ship and its medical unit. - Not all of those were fresh, he had one specifically for the hell that were mission nights, that had already seen far too many stains.

infiniteproxy Ah... Now that was true artistry.

You grin, lick cracked lips, and breathe out, "Perfect." And now there's nothing but to leave it all behind, forever, a wreckage of blood and vengeance in your wake and those few seen fit to spare.

You're somewhat wary of the unfamiliar device Vriska reveals, but you're far more amenable to trusting technology than anyone who would rely on "magical" means to get around. They know what they're doing; you trust that much. And perhaps one night you might have the opportunity to get at the workings of these transportalizers...

A disorienting moment leaves you blinking around an unfamiliar corner of an unfamiliar ship, but the stop is brief enough to only allow Vriska to unload their cache before you're moving on once more, to emerge into a scene of chaotic activity that surges around you in a fairly overwhelming whirl. Light, voices, the heavy metallic scent of blood overlaying the rest. Ugh... You were going to have to get used to existing like this again.

amicicidalgambler The moment the two of you go unnoticed is just long enough for you to slip your backpack off your shoulders and hold Goldwave against your side with your robot arm- almost as if he was leaning against you for support and not a torso with arms in a bag. Then, you pull your mask off your face and make yourself noticed.

"Missing something?"

You were, quite frankly, a mess. A mess holding another mess. Nobody had landed a hit on you worse than a bad graze, but you were covered in blood and viscera specks in every shade of blue, your eyes were still blazing orange, your hair was chopped off at the shoulders, your nose was bleeding badly. The way you walk towards Equius has a distinctive sway to it, the way you hid the trembling that came with exhaustion that hadn't quite caught up to you yet.

And you had a face-splitting, wild grin. You always did, when you went to find him after one of your schemes.

centaurstechnician Equius looked up, ears perking at the sound a familiar and beloved voice- and he did a double take, briskly walking to meet them halfway. "Vriska, what in the name of the gods,," He whistled and gestured some nurses over to help, pausing a moment just to touch her cheek and wipe a stray streak of blood of of it with his thumb.

amicicidalgambler "I fucked with the numbers on the raid intel so I could pick up Goldwave," you admit, bluntly, leaning into your moirail's touch. And though you'd be happy to let the nurses take him for whatever it is they needed to do, the glance you gave them was full of protective instinct. Logically you knew this was their job, but emotionally, one wrong move and- That reminded you, though.

"I'm controlling his psi regulation right now. I don't know what that'll do on its own, so tell me when to let go."

infiniteproxy You're still in a bag, still so much dead weight, but at least like this you can almost pretend you just need a little help staying on your feet... Ha. You'll be needing a lot more than that, in the long run. But for now, the gesture is appreciated, though like this there's no hiding your own trembling, the appalling weakness that leaves it a struggle just to breathe.

For just a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes against that weakness, teeth grit, before fixing your gaze on the Engineer as Vriska approaches.

You're quite a mess in your own right. Thanks to Vriska's deft positioning, you'd remained unscathed throughout the slaughter, though you're splattered with more than a small amount of teal and blue blood yourself. But you're scarred and gaunt, one horn a jagged break that never grew back properly, hair shorn short and jaw patchy. There's half-dried blood of your own streaking your chin and your eyes are like burning coals glaring out of ashen pits.

The nurses are spared a flat, distrustful stare, a hoarse cough bringing up fresher flecks of yellow.

"We could al-- always... fuck around and-- find out."

centaurstechnician "-I'd rather not." He said "May I touch you? I w001d like to do an examination, and get you into the medihall as quickly as possible. -Are you..?" He glanced at Vriska then her friend. "Goldwave, at a guess?" The big blue hazarded, a little uncertain.

"I see that you have both been full of mischief today- Are there any complications I need to know about? Vriska are you hail? Most of this blood looks like someone elses.." He frowned, examining her visually for a moment for anything deep. "If you are hiding a gut wound or anything I will be very put out with you"

infiniteproxy "If you must," is your grudging response, though you don't bother to hide the distasteful curl of your lip that accompanies it.

"Goldwave. Yes. You-- are the medical professional... are you not? ... You tell me."

Most of it would be self-evident: the usual array of old scars and ports still bearing traces of torn biowire, severe emaciation and atrophy, a body struggling to function on its own after a good few decades in the rig. A cursory examination would reveal the missing legs, long-since amputated just above the knee, the paralyzed right hand, though it may take a closer study in the medibay to determine badly-healed damage to vocal cords and trachea, compromised by scar tissue.

amicicidalgambler "He's had it pretty rough, but they only got scratches on me. Promise."

There was the psychic strain that would knock you clean on your ass the moment the huge rush from the violence stopped, but that one was a lot harder for you to judge in the moment. You honestly hadn't even registered the nosebleed yet.

"As far as I know there shouldn't be anything weird going on in there, but I have a bunch of the ship's files on my husktop if I'm wrong on that one."

centaurstechnician "You may stay with him if it will put you both at ease- " He crouched down and began careful physical examination- including breathing, examining skin elasticity, and pulse. "- we are taking you immediately and hooking you back up to life support before your body shuts down."

infiniteproxy "Wouldn't... want that-- would we?"

A dry, sneering cackle is broken by ragged wheezing, several moments passing before you can muster the strength or air to say anything more.

"... better... get on with it."

amicicidalgambler ...You were going to let him say if he wanted you to stay around or not, but the moment you hear that you can really only make one choice.

"I'm staying with him," you say, firmly.

centaurstechnician He gently reached out and took Goldwave and picked him up in the crook of an arm like he weighed nothing. "This way-" He gestured for an assistant to follow and hurried off to start the very many medical procedures Goldwave was going to need.

At least Goldwave didnt bite him.

infiniteproxy Ohhhh, you're thinking about it.

"Tell me-- do you.... treat all of your patients... as though-- they were... sacks of vegetables?"

centaurstechnician "When I must"

amicicidalgambler You trail behind closely, trying to find the best way to take off your jacket without splattering blood everywhere, and you hear that thought.

"No biting my moirail until you're stable."

centaurstechnician "I w001d appreciate that" He said mildly. "it makes it more difficolt to work when I've been injured. "

infiniteproxy You indulge yourself in a faint, irritable hiss instead.

centaurstechnician "You do not need to endure this for long" He promised him. turning down corridors and activating doors remotely ahead of them with his glasses to swing open. Goldwave was soon going to be laid gently down on a cot while they got him hooked up life support again, and scanners were fetched to get a more thorough understanding of what was going on inside him.

amicicidalgambler And you'd pull a chair to a spot close but out of the way, to watch, and support him until you absolutely had to go drag yourself elsewhere.

...You love both of these jackasses so much.

#logs.txt #blood //#gore //#mind control //#none of those are passing mentions theyre all very present #this log also contains:#description of severe medical issues from helming #talk about injuries from psychic strain

9 notes · View notes

avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

The Art of the Deal - Part Three | Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes{

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 6,001

Warnings: smut, sex, anal sex, oral sex, shower sex, threesome m/m/m, no refractory period, did I mention sex? oh, and there’s cheesecake

Summary: Steve - Steve and Sam’s tenth anniversary is weeks away, but another trip to Paris isn’t exactly what Steve has in mind. While showing a prospective business associate a night on the town, Steve links eyes with a long haired stranger - a gets a brilliant idea.

Bucky - Its a normal night at work for Bucky - free drinks, loud music, drunk, horny men. He’s twenty bucks into a lap dance when he spots a new, handsome face, sparking his interest immediately. They link eyes, and boy, is Bucky a sucker for blue eyes.

Sam - Sam? Sam’s just along for the ride (if you catch his drift).

A/N: We learn a bit more about our boy Bucky in this one! One more part after this!

Bucky raps on the familiar apartment door before tucking his hands back into the pockets of his leather jacket. He drops his head back on his shoulders, his eyes scanning the ceiling as heavy footsteps grow louder and louder as they approach. The door swings open and a large smile spreads on Bucky’s lips as he’s met by Sam’s toothy grin.

“Bucky,” Sam says warmly, extending his arms to embrace him, “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Bucky could melt into Sam’s warmth - both physically and emotionally, “You too. It feels like it’s been a year.”

“Good sex will do that to ya,” Sam winks, before pushing the door open wider for Bucky, “Come on in.”

Bucky keeps his hands in his pockets as he pushes into the apartment. It’s still the same, clean and crisp, soft hues of color bursting from the accent pieces. It’s warm, Bucky guesses from the oven and stove as the smell of freshly chopped veggies and cooking food wafts through the apartment.

“You’ll have to excuse Steve,” Sam starts as he moves into the kitchen, “I guess he had a meeting run late.”

Bucky chuckles slightly as he takes a seat at one of the bar stools in front of the stove, “I know I don’t know you guys well, but that sounds typical of Steve.”

Sam laughs wholly as he pulls out a martini glass full of cocktail sauce with shrimp carefully arranged around the rim. He slides it toward Bucky before grabbing a pinch of fresh basil to sprinkle into the pot in front of him, “This is so typical of Steve. I have to literally threaten him to get his ass home sometimes.”

Bucky lowers his head slightly as he reaches for a piece of shrimp. He remembers those days - texting and calling, sometimes having to drive down to the base just to get Rhodey out of his countless meetings.

Sam grabs a beer from the fridge, twisting the cap slowly as he flicks his eyes toward Bucky. He watches him - really, the shift in his demeanor - before cocking his head slightly as he slides the cold, golden liquid toward him, “What was that?”

Bucky shoots his eyes to Sam’s as a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, “What was what?”

“That little head drop thing.” Sam smiles slowly.

Bucky’s eyes widen at Sam’s keen eye and impeccable skill of reading body language. Bucky laughs it off as he dips his shrimp into the red, spicy cocktail sauce, “What little head drop thing?”

Sam continues to smile as he spreads out his arms on the counter, resting his weight on his palms, “You’re talking to a psychologist here.”

“No shit?” Bucky asks, smiling widely.

“No shit.”

“No wonder you’re so nosy.” Bucky winks as he tilts his head back to take a swallow of his beer.

Sam laughs again, dropping his head, “I’ve heard that my entire life. Steve likes to call me Dr. Phil.”

“Well, you’re much cuter than Dr. Phil. I’ll give you that.”

The oven beeps and Sam turns toward it, grabbing his mittens to pull out the roasted lamb, “Seriously, everything’s okay?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Bucky nods, “You aren’t gonna let this go, huh? Ooh, that looks good.”

Sam shrugs as he sets the pan onto the cooling racks, “Thank you, and no, probably not.” He chuckles as he grabs for more herbs to pepper along the meat, “I mean, my husband and I are about to invite you into our home, our lives, in a really intimate fashion, if you’re up for it.” He says, keeping his eyes on the lamb as he sprinkles a dash of salt, “I gotta make sure you aren’t some lunatic.” He flips his eyes back to Bucky, finding him staring back intently, “I mean, no offense but, Steve quite literally picked you up in a strip club.”

Bucky nods slowly, “None taken. That’s fair.”

“I’m not saying you have to share your entire life story, but I’m not big on keeping secrets either. Okay?”

Sam smiles at Bucky again, cocking his head slightly as his eyebrow quirks toward the ceiling. Bucky laughs again, a little out of shock, a little out of admiration, “Loud and clear, Sammy.”

“Good.” Sam winks before returning his attention back to his sauce, “So, how was your day?”

Bucky and Sam speak easily about their days, like they're old friends until the click of the front door sounds softly. Bucky watches as Sam’s face lights up, the glint in his dark eyes returning as he bestows a wide, bright smile as Steve comes into view.

“Sorry I’m late,” Steve apologizes quickly as he wraps his arms around Sam’s awaiting body, “Hey baby. Smells good.”

“Hey there,” Sam coos, closing his eyes happily as Steve pecks, and then nuzzles into his cheek, “You have impeccable timing, as usual.”

Steve chuckles before releasing Sam’s waist. He moves to Bucky and hugs him quickly, a soft smile on his face as his eyes wander around his boyish face, “Good to see you.”

“Same. I’m glad you guys called.” Bucky almost blushes, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

Steve grabs the plates and silverware from the counter before he moves to the table, “Has Sam been easy on you?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up.” Sam smiles as he pours three glasses of red wine.

Bucky laughs lightly, “You could have warned me that he was a psychologist, that’s for sure.”

“He’s good, man. He picks up on the subtlest of movements.”

“Jeez, you’re telling me.”

“You know what,” Sam starts, as he starts passing food to both Bucky and Steve, “I’m not sure this is gonna work if you two are gonna gang up on me like this.”

Bucky and Steve sit at the table once the food is spread out. Sam buzzes around the kitchen, collecting the last of random articles needed to eat - salt and pepper, extra napkins, and just a tad bit more basil to sprinkle over the lamb.

He plops down next to Steve seconds later, “Ok boys, dig in.”

Bucky watches the two as dinner moves on. He brings his wine glass up to his lips, swirling it slowly as his eyes linger on Steve and Sam before him. It’s like he’s not even here - not that they’re being rude. They’re just so comfortable - so easy with one another. The eye contact between them, the soft smiles, the lingering of each other's fingers on one another… it’s lovely to have been invited into their intimacy like this.

Bucky sips the sweet, red wine slowly before inhaling its scent. His mind starts to wander again. Back to New York. Back to their spacious apartment. Back to the mornings where he awoke entangled in the arms and legs of his lover. Back to their dinner parties where he and Rhodey were the Steve and Sam of the room.

He drops his head again. He chews the inside of his lip as he pushes it all away - carefully, this time - as to not grab Sam’s attention again. Maybe love just isn’t in the cards for Bucky Barnes. At least, that’s what he tells himself the nights when the tears come.

Bucky tucks some loose strands behind his ear and glances up, only to find Sam’s eyes on him as Steve enlightens the table about the meeting that kept him. Bucky stabs the last piece of his lamb with his fork and pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly as he smirks back at the curious Sam. Defiant and cocky, guarded and mysterious - the signs of the classic “bad boy” image.

Sam smirks back. He loves a challenge.

“Shit Sam,” Steve chuckles moments later, none the wiser to the staring contest going on around him, “I’m stuffed babe. Thank you.”

Sam leans into Steve again, accepting another kiss on his cheek as he holds his wine to his lips, “You’re welcome, darling. I’ll start some coffee and grab the cheesecake.”

“I’ll do that,” Steve starts, pushing away from the table.

“No, no, no, sit,” Sam stops him, “You’re the businessman, remember?”

Bucky watches Sam as he disappears back into the kitchen before turning his attention back to the blonde in front of him. He leans forward as another smile spreads across his face, “Well, businessman?”

Steve chuckles, “I’m not sure how I’m going to manage having two of you bossing me around.”

“You’re handling it well so far,” Bucky shrugs.

Steve smiles and throws a wink in Bucky’s direction, “So, as you know, Sam and I had a great time with you. You made our anniversary really special, so, thank you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Bucky answers softly, “Thank you for trusting me and allowing me to be of service.”

Sam reenters, his hands full of dessert plates and coffee cups, “Thanks babe.” Steve coos as Sam sits next to him again.

“What’d I miss?”

“Nothing, I was just thanking Bucky for making our anniversary so memorable.”

“Yes,” Sam beams, “We had such a great time, you got us... thinking.”

Bucky laughs as he takes a sip of his coffee, “I can’t wait to hear what about.”

Steve links his fingers with Sam’s, “We would like to offer you something permanent with us. Only, if you’re up for it of course, but we’d… like to have more of you.”

“Lots more of you,” Sam laughs, “We don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

The smile on Bucky’s face finally reaches his eyes. He slices into his cheesecake and pops it in his mouth, removing his fork slowly and seductively from his mouth as he moves his eyes between Sam and Steve’s, “Well, isn’t that sweet, boys.”

“You just have to name your price.” Steve smirks.

Bucky takes a breath while dipping back into his piece of cheesecake. He takes another bite - slowly - turning up the charm and seduction of it all as his libido starts to stir and swell within him. He’s not even in the mood to talk money. He just wants to be on all fours, with Steve in his mouth and Sam in his ass.

He leans back into his chair and points toward the quickly disappearing dessert in front of him, “This is good, Sammy.”

“Thank you,” Sam winks, “There’s plenty more where that came from.” He answers, leaning up to place his chin in the palm of his hand.

The shift in the atmosphere is palpable. Bucky thinks they’re all turned on for completely different reasons - and that turns him on even more. He flicks his eyes to Steve who stares intently back at him. He rubs his middle finger along the pad of his thumb, the gears in his head spinning. He blinks slowly at Bucky, ready to counter and negotiate, ready to win. He loves the art of the deal.

Sam’s ardor is much more based in emotion. The connection between people, the peeling back of one’s layers is what really turns him on. The mysteriousness and seemingly hard exterior of Bucky is a turn on all in itself, but mixed with his overtly sexual nature and this soft, unearthed hurt, and longing in his eye that Sam stumbled upon tonight, makes him nearly irresistible. It makes him think that not a lot of people really know Bucky Barnes. The fact he’d even be comfortable enough to let his mind wander in front of them, means something. Despite his training and all the latin phrases his mind is screaming at him to diagnosis Bucky, the bulge in his pants silences it all.

And Bucky? Well, it doesn’t take much to turn Bucky on. Two beautiful, strong, intelligent men wanting to put his dick on retainer is all he needs to know.

“You’re the businessman, Stevie. Make me an offer I can’t refuse.” Bucky says softly, tilting his head flirtatiously as he chews on another bite of cheesecake.

“Yeah, Mr. Businessman,” Sam echoes, his eyes twinkling with lust as he cuts his eyes toward Steve.

Steve slips his hand between Sam’s legs, his thumb stroking his thigh as Sam’s fingers wrap around his shoulders and neck, “Five thousand a month, cash, plus a credit card with another five thousand dollar limit. We get you any time we want you, eight hours notice. You take down your ad online, and your grindr profile.”

Bucky nods slowly as he takes another bite of Sam’s cheesecake. He takes a deep breath as he chews, his eyes wandering around the opposite wall as he contemplates his counter offer.

“Twelve hours notice, grindr stays up, but I change my status to just looking for friends, and I still get to strip. Oh, and Sammy makes me a cheesecake every month.”

Steve squints, “Why?”

“It’s a really good cheesecake.” Bucky chuckles, winking at the blushing Sam.

“No,” Steve shakes his head, “Why do you want to strip? I’m offering you over a hundred thousand a year in cash and credit.”

Bucky shrugs, “It’s not about the money.”

“You enjoy it.” Sam states.

Bucky takes another slow bite and nods, “Mmhmm.”

“You enjoy the attention,” Sam adds, arranging the puzzle pieces in his brain.

“Maybe.”

“We’ll give you more than enough attention.” Sam counters.

“You sure?” Bucky winks as his mind whispers. It’ll keep me from getting too attached to you.

Sam leans back, his eyes squinting as his gears start to turn. Bucky has offered up yet another piece to his ever growing puzzle. It doesn’t bother Sam either way, they’re not trying to change him entirely. He likes that Bucky just won’t roll over because Steve wants him too. He also kinda likes that he’s a stripper. Sam turns to Steve, their eyes linking as a silent conversation plays out between them. Sam then shrugs and quirks his eyebrow toward the ceiling, “Shouldn’t hurt, hm?”

Steve nods slowly, “Fine. Twelve hours notice, one of Sam’s cheesecakes, grindr profile gets updated, the ad for your services comes down, and you still get to work. That can’t interfere with us, though.”

“It won’t. I’ll be here right after my shift, or, I’ll just cut it short. Promise.”

“Good.” Steve answers, obviously satisfied.

“One other thing,” Bucky starts, “What if I want to have sex with someone who isn’t the two of you? I mean, I’m still allowed a personal life in this whole thing, right?”

Sam takes a deep breath and expels it through his nose, “That’s fair. Could you at least let us know? We may want some tests done, just to stay safe.”

“How about I make a monthly appointment, test results get sent straight to you. Anything pops up, which it won’t, I’m very selective, but if it does, we call it quits. I wouldn’t want to hurt either one of you.”

Steve nods, “You okay with that?” He directs to Sam.

“Yes. So it’s a deal?”

Bucky smirks again and finishes off the last piece of his cheesecake, “Deal. When can we get started?”

Sam laughs, “Don’t we technically have to give you twelve hours notice?”

“Nah,” Bucky waves him off, “I’ll give you a freebie this time. Plus, I owe you for this delicious dinner.”

Steve stands, keeping his fingers intertwined with Sam’s. He reaches for Bucky, wiggling his fingers to entice him, “Come.”

Bucky slips his hand into Steve’s and lets him lead him and Sam back to their bedroom. He shuts the door with a soft click once they’ve all entered and leans against it as Bucky cups Sam’s face in his hands. He kisses him hard, stealing the air right out of Sam’s lungs. He releases Sam’s thick lips seconds later, just to delve back in for them again, sucking his plump lower lip between his. He sinks his teeth into Sam’s flesh as he pushes his body into his, crushing their chests together.

Steve pushes away from the door and slides behind Bucky, sweeping his brown tresses over his shoulder before dropping his lips to his warm skin, “Shower?”

His eyes meet Sam’s, who in turn grabs Bucky’s hand and begins pulling him toward the lavish bathroom. Sam twists the knob, forcing an instantly hot stream of water to splash against the marble floor of the shower. They undress quickly, random articles of clothing falling to the floor in a heap before they step underneath the steady stream of water.

Bucky runs his hands through his hair, pushing water through it as it starts to stick to his wet skin. A chuckle rumbles through his chest as Sam peppers his neck and clavicle with sweet, chaste kisses. He throws his arms over Sam’s shoulders and hugs him to him, pushing his lips along his shoulders.

Steve goes for the body wash, squirting the expensive soap into his hand before rubbing them together to create a healthy lather. He rubs slow circles into Sam’s muscular back, tilting his head as his hands roam along his skin. Steve smiles softly as a moan from Sam bounces off of the tile walls. He digs his fingers into Sam’s lower back, kneading his muscles gently, drawing more loud moans from him.

Bucky sinks to his knees as his hands move along Sam’s stomach. His fingertips brush along his abs and then curve around his waist before he grips his flesh in both hands. He likes their dynamic. He likes Steve’s dominance. It’s not overbearing or suffocating. It’s rather gentle. Sure, he likes to direct, he likes things a certain way, but he doesn’t have to force it. It oozes from him, and it consumes Bucky. He likes that Steve wants Sam to be nothing short of satisfied. He likes how much they love each other.

That consumes him too.

Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes on him. He flicks his eyes up toward him and bites his bottom lip as he takes Sam into his hand. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine as he keeps his eyes on Steve’s - lucky for him, Bucky likes to be watched. He drops his eyes back to Sam’s stomach and cock as he pumps him. He kisses Sam’s tip, smiling hard as he feels the man jump and hears a sharp ‘fuck’ fall from his lips.

Bucky closes his eyes as he takes Sam slowly into his mouth. He slides his tongue along his shaft, moaning and humming to add some vibration.

Steve pushes his hands over Sam’s shoulders and flattens his palms on his chest. He lets Sam fall back into him, resting his head on Steve’s broad shoulder, his face tilted toward the ceiling as the warm water washes over them. Steve nuzzles into his exposed neck and blinks slowly as he watches Bucky bob back and forth. He puckers his lips and pecks at Sam’s neck once, twice, three times before sinking his teeth into his thick skin.

Sam jumps again. He balls Bucky’s wet hair into his fist as a guttural, scratchy grunt pushes through his teeth. He can feel Steve’s erection pressing into his ass, Bucky’s warm, wet mouth and tongue caressing him in the most gentle of ways - it’s luxurious.

Steve keeps his eyes cast down on Bucky as Sam’s heartbeat thumps against his palm. He feels Sam's hips as they start to move - slowly pushing into Bucky’s mouth before pulling back out. Steve drops a hand to his rigid erection. He drags his palm along his length and sweeps his fingers over his pink tip before pushing back down his shaft. He blinks back down to Bucky again and can’t help the groan that scratches at the back of his throat. He finds Bucky stroking himself as he continues to suck on Sam. He’s so pretty like this.

Sam bites his bottom lip as his fingers continue to tangle in Bucky’s hair. Darkness consumes his senses as his eyes remain closed. He releases a soft breath through this teeth as Steve slips his fingers between his asscheeks, rubbing them along his puckered hole. God, is he ready.

Steve replaces his fingers with his cock, sliding in the cleft of Sam’s ass before he lines himself up with his hole. He pushes slowly and grips Sam’s shoulder as his breath hitches in his chest. Steve lets his eyes close as Sam’s internal heat envelopes and spreads through him. He drops his hands to Sam’s hips, placing them over Bucky’s digits and giving them a squeeze.

His pace is slow and steady at first. He rocks into Sam gently as his moans grow louder and quicker, his head still resting on Steve’s shoulder. Steve lets his hand wander - over Sam’s stomach, through the tough patch of hair at his navel and back up to his chest as he fucks him slowly.

Bucky hums as the lust in his chest builds. He pumps his hand along his own cock as he pulls back from Sam, licking his lips quickly and swallowing the tangy spurts of cum on his tongue. He releases himself long enough to stroke Sam with both on his hands, and sends his eyes up toward the couple. Sam’s eyes are closed, his mouth hanging as his natural soundtrack paints the walls. Steve’s head is low as he fucks Sam, his fingers digging into his hips, leaving indentations in his skin.

The sight sends a chill right down Bucky’s spine. It’s so private. So intimate. So personal, and sexy. He takes Sam into his mouth again, this time rougher, sloppier, faster. He wants him to cum. He wants to taste it and feel it. And then he wants Steve to fuck him.

Bucky Barnes loves his life.

Within seconds, Sam is shuttering. His chest heaves, unintelligible words fall from his lips as Steve deepens his thrusts and Bucky swirls that talented tongue around the tip of his cock. His heart pounds against his ribs, his stomach is in his throat as adrenaline pumps through his veins. It’s in moments like this that Sam knows just how lucky he is.

He comes without warning. Bucky grunts at the sudden hot ribbons of cum flooding his mouth, but hums in contentment soon afterward. His eyes flutter shut as he sucks Sam through his orgasm, swallowing every last drop that Sam has to offer.

A soft smile spreads on Steve’s lips as Sam works through his release. His hips slow as he wraps his arms around Sam’s middle, flattening his palms on his stomach. He mumbles his love for him into his ear and nibbles on his earlobe and jaw as his muscles tense with his orgasm. Steve’s smile broadens as Sam starts to come down from the high.

He flattens his palm on his chest as he peers at his boy, “You are so pretty when you come.”

Sam chuckles as he places his hand over Steve's, “You think so?”

“I know so. I think Mr. Barnes would agree?”

Bucky is back on his feet and closing the distance between he and Sam’s lips within seconds. He kisses him deeply, his tongue sweeping along his teeth and bottom lip before he pulls away, dragging Sam’s bottom lip with him.

He releases it quickly and smiles, “Absolute beauty.”

“He pays you to say that,” Sam winks, his head still swimming, his eyes hazy, his smile lazy, “Let’s lie down.”

Steve throws his eyes to Bucky, “Bed?”

“Let’s do it… literally.”

Steve reaches for a towel as Bucky turns off the water, throwing it over Sam’s shoulders before he steps out. He lets Bucky follow Sam and steps out last, throwing Bucky a towel to rid himself of excess water. Steve follows suit, swiping at his limbs and chest with a towel before discarding it to the floor and moving into the bedroom.

Sam’s already climbed into the large, soft bed. He’s at the headboard, his eyes heavy but his hand busy as he slowly strokes himself. Bucky lays at the foot of the bed, holding his head in the palm of his hand as his free hand skips up and down Sam’s calf. He smiles at Steve and Steve smiles back.

“You ready for me?” Steve asks.

Bucky smirks, “How do you want me?”

“Face down, ass up,” Steve answers.

“And what’s the magic word, Mr. Businessman?”

Steve smirks, “Please.” He says sweetly.

Only then does Bucky oblige. He repositions himself on the bed, sinking his knees into the mattress and he places his hands flat on the sheets. He lifts his eyes to Sam’s, making direct eye contact with him. He reaches out and skirts his fingers along Sam’s skin again before wrapping his hand around his ankle. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Sam drags his hand along the length of his gorgeous cock, never taking his eyes off of Bucky’s blues.

Steve grabs a bottle of lube from his armoire and squeezes a dollop onto his fingers as he approaches the foot of the bed. He rests his left hand in the center of Bucky’s back and rubs his thumb along his soft, damp skin. He massages the warming gel along himself before sweeping his fingers lightly between Bucky’s cheeks. He inches forward, pressing against Bucky as he grips his shoulder.

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as Steve fills him up slowly. He tightens his grip on Sam’s ankle and lets out a focused breath through his teeth as soon as he feels Steve’s hips are flush with his body.

Steve starts slow, acquainting his body with Bucky’s. He lets his fingers dance along Bucky’s skin, gripping, squeezing, kneading as he fucks him. He flicks his eyes toward Sam’s, finding them hooded and hazy, drunk almost, as he strokes himself to the same rhythm of Steve’s hips. Steve’s chest constricts almost immediately. He hips jut forward, hard, pulling a yelp from Bucky.

Steve stops and squeezes his shoulder, but Bucky laughs it off, “I’m good, cowboy.”

Cowboy. Steve likes that. Steve also likes that he can take it. He sets his pace faster - his strokes deeper - as Bucky’s soundtrack grows louder. He skips his fingers down Bucky’s body and between his legs. He caresses the inside of his thigh gently - sweetly - and then pinches without warning.

“Fuck,” Bucky groans as pangs of pleasure and pain flash through him.

This is the best decision Bucky’s ever made.

Steve keeps his eyes on Sam as they bounce between his and Bucky’s. Steve watches as Sam’s chest rises and falls faster, his hand pumps harder, his toes curl and flex as his moans mix and mingle and rise with Bucky’s. Fuck, the beauty of it all is enough to make Steve stutter again.

Bucky tightens his grip on Sam’s ankle and drops his face into the mattress as he lunges forward with each of Steve’s thrusts. He slams his eyes closed as a chorus of grunts fall from his lips. He yelps again as another flash of pain rips through him - Steve’s fingers pinching again, harder and harder as his hips crash into his.

Bucky lifts his head just in time to see Sam come undone again. He bites his bottom lip as he watches the ribbons spurt from him and falling against Sam’s chest and stomach. He shutters as Steve runs his hand along his spine and… that’s just about all he can take. He doesn’t even have to touch himself. He just cums. He drops his head to the mattress and lets Steve fuck him through his orgasm as he spills himself onto the soft, white sheets.

Steve falls forward as Bucky’s body constricts around him. He grips Bucky’s shoulder, his fingers digging into his skin as the threat of his own orgasm rushes through his veins. He grunts as electricity flashes through him. His vision tunnels, his chest tightens… and then he’s filling Bucky with his hot spunk. His hips jerk as he holds onto Bucky’s shoulders, barely able to breathe as he cums.

Bucky can’t help the chuckle that rumbles through his chest as Steve collapses on top of him. He reaches back and caresses Steve’s hip with the tips of his fingers as their three ragged, heavy breaths fill the room. He’s almost sad when he feels Steve’s weight leave him. He peeks over his shoulder as Steve disappears into the bathroom and reemerges with washcloths.

Bucky watches as he moves to Sam first, pecking him on the lips before he starts to clean him. He’s gentle with him. He sweeps the warm washcloth over Sam’s chest and stomach before giving the same ample attention to his dick. Once Sam is squeaky clean, he kisses him again, and then moves back to the foot of the bed.

He taps Bucky’s ankle, “May I?”

Bucky nods slowly as he tucks his hands underneath his head and stretches out his legs. He loves a control freak. He closes his eyes as Steve caresses his skin with the warm washcloth and cracks a quick smile as he lands a smack against his ass before retreating back into the bathroom.

He feels another tap on his ankle, “Under the covers.”

Bucky has something snarky to say, but he’s in a good mood, so he just climbs up next to Sam and slips underneath their expensive comforter. The TV flips on, Steve’s heavy footsteps move around the room before his weight sinks into the mattress and the soft light from his laptop washes over him.

Sam reaches over Bucky and lets his hand and fingers brush along Steve’s arm - just so he can feel them - and drifts off, taking Bucky with him.

----

Bucky takes a breath, his eyes fluttering as he stretches his limbs. His eyes open slowly and focus on the blue numbers projected on the ceiling from Steve’s clock. 3:17am. Sam’s arm is still slung over his chest. Steve rests against the headboard, his head rolled the side, his hands still propped on his laptop. Bucky smiles slowly. It reminds him of -

He stops. He blinks slowly, shifting his gaze back to the blue numbers. 3:19am. He needs a cigarette.

He wiggles out from between them and shimmies into his tight boxers before digging through his jacket pocket. He slips out, and pads through the apartment to the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. He steps out into the warm night, sliding the door partially closed before bringing a thin cigarette to his lips.

He’s gone through about three of them before he hears the door slide on the track. He doesn’t even turn around, he knows who it is. He takes another drag and exhales the grey smoke slowly before he bends over, resting his forearms on black railing.

“His name was James,” he starts slowly, dropping his head between his arms, “James Rhodes. But, everybody called him Rhodey.”

Sam smiles softly as he leans against the walls behind him, “How long were you two together?”

“Five years,” Bucky laughs, “Isn’t that crazy? Still surprises me that I was capable of that.”

“Anybody is capable of anything Bucky. You must have really loved him.”

Bucky nods slowly, “I did. I gave him everything. I gave up everything.”

“Before we get there,” Sam says gently, “How did you two meet?”

Bucky takes another drag of his cigarette and lifts his head to gaze out onto the city, “We were both in the military, he was a Colonel.”

“Bucky, that’s-” Sam cringes.

“No, no, not - We didn’t meet like that. He was in the Air Force, I was Army. I was discharged after a few years cuz I have a heart murmur, and I couldn’t manage to get back on base by curfew.”

Sam chuckles, “That’s not surprising.”

“Anyway, I was working at this bar, on base, and he came in one night. We ended up talking. He took me out a few nights later and a month later, I moved in.”

Sam smiles harder, “Steve made me move in after two weeks.”

“That’s not surprising.” Bucky chuckles.

It gets quiet between the two of them. Sam doesn’t want to push, he knows this is a place that Bucky is not comfortable navigating, especially with someone he barely knows. So, he waits for him to get there. He watches him as he finishes that cigarette and promptly pulls another from his pack. The small fire sparked from his lighter adds a dim light but it dies away just as quickly as it came.

“I straightened up,” Bucky says after a long while, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he holds the cigarette between his fingers, “I stopped dancing, I got a straight job, I started cutting my fucking hair again. I straightened up for him, because I loved him and I wanted him to be proud to have me on his arm.”

The anger becomes undeniably present - suffocating almost - and they’re quite literally sitting out in the open. Sam thinks he knows where it’s going, but Bucky needs to say it, “What happened?”

Bucky shrugs, “I don’t know. I did everything he wanted me to, I became the person he wanted, and I came home one night and there was another man in my bed. Some fuckin’ Private or whatever the fuck they call ‘em.” He swallows hard as he stares at the trees, his jaw set in a hard line, “I gave him everything I had, and it meant nothing to him.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. I’m not saying what he did was right, I’m not going to call it a mistake because that’s a conscious decision, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you. It certainly doesn’t mean that you meant nothing to him.” Sam tilts his head as he stares at Bucky’s back, “Your worth is up to you, not to anyone else.”

Bucky smiles, but it’s sarcastic - cynical, “I’m sure you get paid a lot of money to say stuff like that.”

“I do. Lucky for you, you’re getting it for free.”

Bucky laughs, “I like you, Sam.”

“I like you, Bucky - and before you say something snarky, no, I don’t get paid to say that to everyone.”

“Sure,” Bucky sings, peeking over his shoulder quickly, “You got any other words of wisdom?”

Sam nods, “You got out of there. You stood up for yourself, that’s something to be proud of, and it means that you know deep down that you deserve better than that. I mean, five years is a long time. This was in New York, I’m presuming?”

“How do you know that?”

“Everyone hears the Brooklyn in you, but you.” Sam laughs, “Seriously. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but to uproot your life and start over in a new city - on your own no less, is incredibly strong. Knowing who you are and being comfortable with yourself, is something that some people never learn how to do.”

Sam stands and leans against the railing next to him, tilting his head until Bucky makes eye contact with him, “You could work on the vulnerability, but that wild side of you - that freeness, is like catching lightning in a bottle. This James guy is an idiot if he didn’t realize that. There’s nothing wrong with you, you didn’t do anything wrong, and I like your hair long.”

Bucky laughs again, but this time, he really, really means it. Sam kisses his forehead before retreating back to the sliding door. He stops and glances over his shoulder, “I’m very familiar with this bad boy act, so, no sneaking out. Bring your ass back to bed when you’re done.”

Before Bucky can get out another word, the door clicks shut. Bucky smirks again and lets out another breath. He drops his eyes to the concrete as his mind spins. It’s weird. He feels a little better. He puts out his cigarette and does exactly what Sam told him to do - he promptly takes his ass back to bed.

69 notes · View notes