#he also wears them while he's strapped to the torturing machine

[ashleyeveerson]

don’t mind me just sobbing on the floor bc i’ve just noticed Edwin reverts to the clothes he wore when he died whenever he’s scared

#i was like the fuck are you wearing in hell you fashion king #turns out it was the pj he was sacrificed in #he also wears them while he's strapped to the torturing machine #everything in this show is angst #edwin payne #edwin my beloved #dead boy detectives #dbd spoilers

[truecrimetime]

The Toy Box Killer

David Parker Ray, also known as the Toy Box Killer, was an American kidnapper, torturer, serial rapist, and suspected serial killer. Although no bodies were found, several accomplices have accused Ray of killing several women. The police suspected him to have murdered as many as sixty women from Arizona and New Mexico while living in Elephant Butte, New Mexico, which is approximately seven miles north of Truth or Consequences.

Ray used soundproofing methods on a semi-trailer, which he referred to as his "toy box" and equipped it with items used for sexual torture. He would kidnap five or six women a year and hold each of them captive for three to four months. During this period he would sexually abuse his victims, sometimes involving his dog or wife (who willingly participated in her husband's crimes), and frequently torture them with whips, chains, clamps, straps, pulleys, leg spreader bars, electric shock machines, saws, and surgical blades. It is believed that he had accomplices, some of which are alleged to be several of the women he was dating. Inside of the torture room, along with the numerous sex toys, torture implements, syringes, and detailed diagrams showing ways of inflicting pain, there was a homemade electrical generator which Ray used to inflict torture among his victims.

A mirror was mounted in the ceiling, above the obstetric table to which he strapped his victims. Ray also put his victims in wooden contraptions that bent them over and immobilized them while he had his dogs and sometimes friends rape them. He has been said to have wanted his victims to see everything he was doing to them.  Ray also had an audio tape recording of his voice played for his victims whenever they regained consciousness.

 

Cynthia Vigil was abducted from an Albuquerque parking lot by Ray and his girlfriend, Cindy Hendy.  She was taken to Elephant Butte, confined to the trailer and tortured. After three days of captivity, Vigil escaped from the trailer on March 22, 1999.

To escape, she waited until Ray had gone to work, and then unlocked her chains with keys that Hendy had left on a nearby table. Hendy noticed Vigil's attempt to escape and a fight ensued. During the struggle, Hendy broke a lamp on the captive's head, but Vigil unlocked her chains and stabbed Hendy in the neck with an icepick.

Vigil fled while wearing only an iron slave collar and padlocked chains. She ran down the road seeking help, which she got from a nearby homeowner who took her in, comforted her, and called the police. Her escape led officials to the trailer and instigated the capture of Ray and his accomplices. Police detained Ray and Hendy.

Another victim, Angelica Montano, came forward with a similar story to that of Vigil. She said she had been held captive by Ray after Hendy invited her to the house to pick up a cake mix. After being raped and tortured, Montano convinced the pair to release her along the highway. She was picked up by an off-duty law enforcement officer and told him what happened, but he didn't believe her and left her at a bus stop. She also later called police about the incident, but there was no follow-up.

Police identified another victim, Kelli Garrett, from a videotape which dated from 1996.Garrett was found alive in Colorado after police identified her from a tattoo on her ankle. She testified that she had gotten in a fight with her husband and decided to spend the night playing pool with friends. Ray's daughter, Jesse, who knew Garrett, took her to the Blu-Water Saloon in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, and may have drugged the beer she was drinking. She offered Garrett a ride home but instead took Garrett to her father’s house.

Garrett said she endured two days of torture before Ray drove her back to her home. Ray told her husband that he had found the woman incoherent on a beach. Her husband did not believe that she could not remember where she had been and Garrett said she did not know what to tell police and so did not contact them. Her husband sued for divorce and Garrett moved to Colorado. She was later interviewed on Cold Case Files about her ordeal.

The FBI sent 100 agents to examine Ray's property and surroundings, but no identifiable human remains were found.

To prevent women from reporting the assaults, Ray drugged them in an attempt to induce amnesia. He made a tape recording of himself telling one woman that the drugs were sodium pentothal and phenobarbital.

While awaiting trial, Ray spoke to FBI profilers and said that he was fascinated by the kidnapping of Colleen Stan and other sexually motivated kidnappings. The FBI had spoken to Ray as early as 1989 in connection with his business manufacturing and selling bondage-related sexual devices.

A judge ruled that the cases for crimes against Cynthia Vigil, Angelica Montano, and Kelli Garrett would be severed, meaning that Ray would be tried for each separately. Prosecutors said this damaged their case as each woman's story would otherwise have corroborated and bolstered the others' accounts. The judge also ruled much of the evidence found in the trailer during the 1999 raid could not be admitted in the Garrett or Montano cases. The first trial, for crimes against Kelli Garrett, resulted in a mistrial after two jurors said they found her story unbelievable. Ray’s defense was that the sex trailer was part of Ray’s fantasy life and any sex that took place, was consensual. After a retrial, Ray was convicted on all 12 counts.

A week into his trial for crimes against Vigil, Ray agreed to a plea bargain and was sentenced in 2001 to 224 years in prison for numerous offenses in the abduction and sexual torture of three young women at his Elephant Butte home. The plea deal was to obtain leniency for his daughter. Prosecutors stated that the surviving victims had approved of this deal. Ray's daughter, Glenda Jean "Jesse" Ray, was charged with kidnapping and criminal sexual penetration. She pled no contest and received a 30-month sentence with an additional five years to be served on probation.

In 1999, Dennis Roy Yancy pleaded guilty to the 1997 murder of 22-year-old Marie Parker in Elephant Butte. Yancy confessed to helping Jesse Ray lure Parker into captivity in her father’s trailer. Yancy said that Parker was tortured and that Ray forced him to strangle the woman to death. Parker's body was never found; prosecutors noted that no forensic evidence was found to tie Parker to the Rays.

Yancy was also charged with kidnapping, two counts of conspiracy to commit a crime, and tampering with evidence. He was sentenced to 30 years. The Rays were not charged in Parker’s murder. In 2010, Yancy was paroled after serving 11 years in prison, but the release was delayed by difficulties in negotiating a plan for residence. Three months after his release in 2011, Yancy was charged with violating his parole. He was remanded to custody, where he remained until 2021, serving the rest of his original sentence.

In 2000, Cindy Hendy, an accomplice who testified against Ray, received a sentence of 36 years for her role in the crimes. She was scheduled to receive parole in 2017. She was released on July 15, 2019, after serving the two years of her parole in prison.

On May 28, 2002, Ray was taken to the Lea County Correctional Facility, in Hobbs, New Mexico, to be questioned by state police. He died of a heart attack before the interrogation took place.

Cynthia Vigil and Christine Barber later founded Street Safe New Mexico, a volunteer harm reduction nonprofit that works with sex workers and other vulnerable people living on the street.

#true crime #the toy box killer #david parker ray

[emwritesstuff]

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this.  (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #emwrites

[unabashegirl]

"You lied to me"

I’ve been writing this for a few weeks now. It’s just a lil something. I hope you all like it. 

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list and don't forget REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Love you all

masterlist

----

“Yeh lied to me” He had been watching her for a few minutes. He was quite surprised that she hadn’t noticed his presence through the window. He had just woken up from a quick nap and come out of the bedroom to find her. She was just where he expected her to be— in his office. 

His office was her nook. It was where she spent the majority of her day especially when he wasn’t around. The room was tainted with Harry’s personality all over. Both walls had built-in bookshelves. Packed with all types of literary pieces. Books that Harry had taken the time to pick. By just reading the titles anyone could tell what type of man Harry was. The books told his story. They were part of him and his incredible journey. 

A floor-to-ceiling, arched window was placed at the back of the room with two French doors adjacent to it, making it the most naturally illuminated room in the house. One of the many reasons, she loved spending her time there. The room was decorated with dark furniture. Although the mosaic carpet and colorful throw pillows contrasted. 

“I did not” Y/N argued back without knowing what she was denying doing. “What did I do?” She make sure to mark the page of her book before turning her seat to get a look at her boyfriend. 

“You are wearing my shirt, Darlin” A smile dangled on the corner of his lips as he pointed to his “daddy but I love him” shirt on her frame. He had been looking for it for weeks. He had looked through the piles of laundry and the closets. Harry had even searched through her t-shirt drawer, but it had been all in vain. She had tucked the bottom of the shirt under her bra making it the ideal little crop top to match her high-waisted blue jeans. “On top of that, you dared to wrinkle it by wearing it incorrectly” He teased as he strode into the room. 

He wore blue jeans just like hers and a simple button-down shirt. He had no shoes and his hair was tossed around from rolling around in bed. This was her favorite type of Harry. He was always cuddly and playful just after a nap. He was also his most relaxed. It was refreshing to see. 

“It was too big on me” Y/N explained as she crossed her legs. Harry gripped the arms of the chair preventing her from swiveling. 

“S’not! Are you calling me fat?” He hunched over her as he got lost in her mesmerizing eyes. A “boop” left his lips just after poking her in her bare stomach knowing how ticklish she was. But never once losing his confident smile. 

“You could weigh 500 pounds and I would still love you, doofus” She laughed as she swats his hands away from her. There she was; declaring and reassuring him of her unconditional love towards him. Something that still made him feel like the day he declared his love for her three years ago.

His fingers gently grip her chin, guiding her mouth to his. He kissed her, reciprocating his love. Y/N pecked his lips gently while he pressed his forehead against hers. 

“I love you” she whispered as Harry’s hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her up to him. She wrapped her legs around him and her arms around his neck as he walked them back to the couch. She straddled him as he pushed her hair off her shoulders revealing the necklace that he had gotten her for Christmas. 

“Aren’t you tired, lovie?” He questioned while fiddling with the pendant. He had ordered it weeks ahead. The present had almost not made it to Christmas. He had also almost ruined the surprise because of his excitement.  She shook her head at him while he planted gentle kisses on the skin of the crook of her neck. 

“Then I didn’t do a good job this morning m’love” Y/N giggled as she is tickled by the slight stubble that he had. They were mostly night owls when it came to sex, but this morning she had woke up to Harry pressing himself against her backside. Eager for some relief, she complied and probably experienced one of her best orgasms. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about how exquisite she looked this morning.  And how gracefully her hair looked when the morning sun hit upon it as she rode him. The lust her eyes carried as her hips worked magic on him. The way her deliciously smooth skin left like heaven against his. He still couldn't get the sound of her moans and her soft voice asking for more out of his mind. And how her overly kissed lips looked after he had finished with her. 

“Wha’ are we going to do about these shirts dilemma?” Harry asked as he pulled on his shirt that was on her. It was all a joke, he enjoyed teasing her. And he loved seeing her in his clothes. Most of his sweaters and t-shirts hung on her side of the closet, but he didn’t mind. He found adorable the comfort she found in wearing his clothes. 

“You could always wear mine” Y/N gave him a toothy smile. “Tit for tat” she smiled playfully knowing they would never fit him. Half of his long torso would be uncovered due to the difference of statues between them. Her shirts on him would be crop tops. She planted a kiss on his defined yaw. 

“Nu’ uh. They are very uncomfortable” Harry loved her sense of style, but some of the shirts had too many straps and looked quite difficult and complicated to wear.

“Hey! They are very comfortable” Harry gently got her off his lap so he could stand up. “Where are you going?” Y/N asked with a giggle as she watched him leave the room. “Baby!” She yelled after him with no luck. 

It only took Harry a few seconds to come back into the room, attempting to wear one of her favorite tops. It was a corset that had been recently sent to her. Y/N was quite impressed that Harry had been able to button it at least a bit. 

“This? This is torture” Y/N let loose a loud laugh as Harry turned, showing her how poorly he had been able to tie it at the back. “How can you wear this?”

“That’s a corset baby. They are meant to be uncomfortable” Harry shook his head to his girlfriend as he tried his best not to stand straight and potentially ruin the modern-day torture machine. “What about my Rolling Stones tee? I am sure you can wear that one”  He left frowning in search of the shirt. 

Y/N’s hands itched to record the small, private fashion show that was taking place. She abstained knowing that if she wasn’t concentrated on recording, the sweet memory of her boyfriend wearing her clothes, would be further preserved in her mind. 

“Loot at you! That one fits” She giggled at Harry as he stood before her with his hands on his hips. He looked exactly like that episode on Friends when Ross squeezed himself into Rachel’s favorite shirt. One of their personal favorite episodes. 

“I might tear it” He chuckled minutes before he yanked it off his body. “Did I prove my point?” Harry asked as he flopped back on the couch beside her.

“Fine” Y/N exhaled loudly and standing up. “you clearly can't wear my shirts. Therefore, I will have to stop wearing your clothes” she frowned,  grabbing the hem of the shirt and pulling over her head.

“Wha’ are yeh doing?”

“Giving you your shirt back” She responded innocently undressing in front of her boyfriend. “Too bad” she shrugged. “My boyfriend sings about treating people with kindness but doesn’t allow his girlfriend to wear his favorite shirts” She teased, “What would his fans say?” 

“Oh! That’s it! Y’are getting it!” Harry laughed as he shot up from the couch and went chasing after his topless girlfriend around the house. Their laughs and love-filled the halls of their house, the very same thing that built the foundation of their forever home. 

-- 

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry imagine #harry imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry blurb #harry angst #harry one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry fluff #harry styles fluff #harry smutt #harry styles smutt #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry x you #harry x reader #harry x y/n

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Platonic male reader x bucky

The reader used to train with bucky in Hydra. Making the reader one of the best secret agent(s) in th world. (Think Ethan Hunt & John Wick wrapped into one) The reader is a master at C.Q.C & marksman who has near excellent healing abilities. On a strike in a hydya gulag the reader escapes faking his death. Two years go by while in the reader is living a normal, when Bucky hunts down the reader to bring him onto captain America team.

Pairing: Bucky x platonic!male reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of torture, PTSD attack, some fluff, sad Bucky (yes it’s a warning). If I left anything out let me know.

Word Count: 3976

A/N: This was requested by @lunchawx. I really hope this is close to what you were looking for. I know there weren’t many fight scenes in here where the reader could show off their marksmanship, but I tried my best. All mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

I wish I could tell you how my life turned upside down. I can’t though. I don’t remember how I even got to the base in Siberia, or how I came to America. All I know is that this has been my life, and I knew nothing more. I knew nothing more than being a sharpshooter, and a good soldier. I couldn’t remember if I had any family, or what family really was. I was a soldier. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

The person I felt like I could really trust was the one who had been here the longest. He knew the best moves when it came to fighting. It was an honor to train with him. We were a challenge for each other, and I felt that was why we worked well together. We had the same mindset, and knew what had to be done, and just did it. No questions asked.

When we were in Siberia we trained together, and went on missions together. We made the perfect team, and we always found solace in each other’s company. A bit of peace in the midst of the chaos.

There was always one thing that separated the two of us from each other. He was just a soldier who was made into an assassin with new hand to hand combat skills. He was recruited for his military background. I was recruited for my healing abilities. They then turned me into a killing machine, and used my powers for their benefit. 

I didn’t see it then, but I see it now, as I look back on my time with the group. HYDRA was nothing more than a place for them to corrupt the easily corrupted. I was one of them. Barnes was too. He said he didn’t really know much about his past, and when he thought he started to fit the pieces together, they took him away. He always came back different. More damaged, and quieter. I never liked it when they took him away. I didn’t like the man who came back right after. 

It would take Barnes days to go back to his normal self. The normal self I knew. That only grew worse when we came to America. Mr. Pierce wasn’t the friendliest. I was the only other of the army HYDRA was making that was escorted with Barnes. I didn’t get decent treatment either. I was treated better than Barnes. 

One time I remember very distinctly, Barnes was hurt so bad from keeping a mission report from Pierce they asked me to heal him, so they could continue to torture him. It wasn’t fair. I had to heal him, just for him to get hurt again, and have to heal him once more. Over and over again I did this. I had no choice, but I never thought they would hurt me. Not really, but I also couldn’t risk calling their bluff.

“I need you to eliminate someone for me. Once he’s dead you can be free. Free from all of this. No more killing.” Pierce promised Barnes as he prepared him for this mission.

“If he does this, we’ll be free to leave?” I asked, not trusting a word he was saying.

“Oh he will be free to go, but you, on the other hand, aren’t going anywhere. We could use someone with your abilities. Not only are you trained like the Winter Soldier, but you have more to add to our little group than he does. He has been a gift to mankind, but you will be the greatest gift known in the history of mankind.”

“So Barnes will be free, but I won’t?”

“There must always be sacrifices made.”

“As long as he gets to go free, I will make that sacrifice.”

“Y/l/n, you can’t do that for me. You deserve your freedom too.”

“I won’t get my freedom till I’m dead. I’m sorry Barnes. It’s the way the world turns.”

Barnes looks down with a sad look in his eyes. I knew this conversation would cost him a great deal of torture. Pierce needed him sharp and ready to kill, not all mopey and emotional.

“Prep him.” Pierce spoke.

“Yes sir.” One of the scientists answered.

They took Barnes away, and I felt responsible for that. The S.H.I.E.L.D. Strike crew came in and had me wear a disguise to make sure that launch day for project insight went according to plan. I just hoped that Barnes would be okay, and he would finally be free. Get away from all this fighting and blood shed. Though it was the very thing we had been created to do.

After the assassination of the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., I stayed close and guarded the building. My target was Captain America himself, and all I could say was this was going to be a difficult task, even for me. I watched from one of the balconies to watch for him, when I heard the others over comms say he was headed for the garage, and to shut down the bridge. This was my chance to hit where he least expects it.

I aimed, and waited for him to get in range. One of the jets came out to block his path, and I took my chance to shoot one of his tires, but I took the shot, he jumped onto the jet, and took it down. He took off on foot. I knew I was in for it.

“You had your chance to shoot him, and you missed. Maybe you’re not as good as they say you are.” Rumlow shouted.

“Look, I was aiming for his tire, make him roll and give you time to get him.”

“Next time, you do things our way. Not yours.” He glared at me before walking off.

“Where’s Barnes?”

“Not here! Getting an assignment!” He said, as he walked down the hall disappearing around the corner.

I went to the training room and waited for him. He eventually showed up, but I knew that he was going to be quiet this entire time. There was no use even trying to talk to him. He wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was saying anything. After our training, he walked away, and prepped for his next assignment. 

“You okay Barnes?”

He just looked at me, then went back to what he was doing. This wasn’t normal. I knew that what Pierce did to him this time had gone too far.

“Barnes talk to me. At least say something. A word, or sentence, anything to tell me you are still there.”

“I’m here. I have to go.”

He never gave me the cold shoulder like that before. I knew he had to focus, and we would talk later. So I geared up, and followed Rumlow, and his team. We waited till we heard a police dispatch for backup for gunfire near the highway. Our trucks headed out, and arrested Black Widow, Captain America, and some other guy who I had never seen before. 

Rumlow tells me to head to the location, and be ready to shoot if things go wrong. I nod and head to the location where we would execute these three felons. I set up my stuff and prepared to aim. Rumlow came into view and signaled to abort the mission. I get down, and we head back to our facility. I walk in, and see that Barnes is fighting one of the scientists. I have only seen him fight back a handful of times. Pierce usually tortured him really bad, so he was mostly well behaved.

Pierce walks in and he doesn’t look very happy, “mission report.” Barnes doesn’t answer, he just has this far off dazed look, “mission report.” When he didn’t get an answer the second time, he slapped Barnes across the face.

“Who was the man on the bridge?” He asked, and he looked so sad.

“You met him earlier on another mission.” Pierce spoke.

“I knew him.” Barnes looked even sadder, knowing that, saying these words, he would be punished.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind, and I need you to do it one more time.” Pierce said sitting down.

“But I knew him.” Barnes gives a sad smile. He knew he was in for it now, and I couldn’t sit and watch this. Barnes needed to get out of this situation, and so did I.

“Prep him.”

“Sir he’s been out of the ice too long.”

“Then wipe him, and start over.” Pierce ordered. 

They strap him in and begin to wipe him, Rumlow motions me to follow him and his men, and we follow Pierce out. We station all over the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, and make sure that no one disturbs project insight launch. I stick with Rumlow, so he has protection. I could risk getting hurt, but I din;t want the others to risk the same thing. As we heard Captain America over the intercom, we headed to the launching station to initiate an early launch.

The employees gave a little trouble, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle. Especially when they started shooting their guns. Rumlow told me to run to the helicarrier level and shoot anyone who fought the launch. I nodded and headed down. I shot down everyone in my way trying to stop me. That’s when I ran into Barnes. I helped clear him a path to the Captain. I gunned down men, and didn’t miss a single shot. I tossed Barnes a grenade launcher, to shoot down the jets.

Once I knew he was on a good clear path, I went down to meet Rumlow. We headed up to the 41st floor where we were ambushed by the man I had only met a day ago. He started to kick and punch us, but I was quicker than he was, and was able to dodge them. I didn’t know how I was going to get out, and I knew I should have stayed with Barnes, but it was too late for regrets.

I looked out the window and saw that the helicarriers were shooting at each other. I saw one crash into the water, right near the opening of the hanger. Another had completely  blown up, and the pieces were everywhere, but the last one was headed right towards us. I ran to try and out run it, but even as a super soldier, that was nearly impossible. 

I looked back at Rumlow who was now being crushed by debris. I knew if I needed to make a clean escape I could. I dropped my guns, and the first layer of my clothing, and jumped into the water. The world would now believe I was dead, and I could live in peace. I just hope Barnes got the same treatment.

~*~

I was now living in Germany. In a quaint little town outside of Berlin. It was peaceful, and I had no worries in the world. Granted the world did believe I was dead, and assumed I was no longer a threat. I volunteered my spare time to help heal those at a nearby hospital. It wasn;t well funded by the major cities, so getting supplies they needed was difficult. I felt if I could help save some of the people who were suffering from chronic illnesses, then I was doing something right. 

HYDRA still haunted my thoughts once and a while, and I just hoped that Barnes was free like I was. I had no way of knowing though. I had no contact with anyone I used to know. That was for the best.

I came home one afternoon, and turned on the international news. There plastered on my screen was Barnes. 

“The suspected bomber at the UN meeting in Vienna which has killed Wakandian King T’Chaka, is none other than James Buchanan Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier.”

His name was James. I only knew him as Sergeant Barnes. It didn’t make sense though why would HYDRA want to kill the king of Wakanda? That didn’t seem like something they would do, and it wasn’t like Barnes to get his face caught on camera. Something wasn’t adding up, and I knew this. Someone was trying to set him up, or drag him out of hiding if he was still alive out there.

There was nothing I could do for my friend. I knew if I decided to track him down, then the whole world would know I was still alive, and try to experiment on me. I had to stay where I was, and just hope that Barnes was going to be okay.

I spent the rest of the day trying to keep my mind occupied. I couldn’t keep thinking that my old friend was in any sort of danger, or that he had resorted to his old ways. I really thought that he was innocent. It wasn’t like him to look directly at a traffic camera. We knew where every traffic camera location was all across the world. It was in our ‘programming’. 

The next day I went back to the hospital to visit some patients who were not in critical condition. It was always nice to just sit and talk to them. I was sitting and visiting one of the elderly ladies who was sitting watching the news. I watched with her just talking when I saw a breaking news story pop up saying Steve Rogers, Prince T’Challa of Wakanda, Sam Wilson, and James Barnes were all in custody, and being interrogated at Berlin prison. 

I said goodbye to the woman, and walked home. I couldn’t believe that Barnes had been captured, and was now being charged for the bombing in Vienna. Everything was happening so fast, and I was having a hard time processing everything. I ignored my TV the rest of the day, and decided to work in my garden. I was aggressively digging holes to plant new flowers. I had to get my anger and frustration out somehow. 

I planted the flowers, and packed in the fresh dirt more aggressively than I meant to. I heard someone coming up the driveway, “I don’t want any visitors today.”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” The stranger asked.

I thought they were a stranger at least, but the voice sounded so familiar. I looked up, and there he stood. It was Barnes. He could tell I looked like I had seen a ghost, but he had the same look.

“Good to see you’re doing well. It’s a nice place you have here.”

“Thank you. I tried to forget about my past. By the look on your face, much like the rest of the world, you believed I was dead.”

“Yeah. It’s good to see you’re alive old pal.”

“So, where’s the fight.”

Barnes chuckles, “we need your help. Steve wants to help prove my innocence. We’re going back to Siberia.”

“Do you think that’s the best idea, Barnes?”

“It’s Bucky actually.”

“I like that better than Barnes in all honesty. I’m assuming you found your family, or friends?”

“Friend. Steve and I have been friends since we were kids. Which was back in the 20s.”

“Well, if your friend needs help, I’ll gladly help. Especially if it proves your innocence.”

“Just a warning, there is a man out there with our trigger words. He may try it again, and Steve won’t be able to fight both of us off.”

“Good to know. I’m in though. I knew you were innocent the moment I saw the traffic cam footage. You wouldn’t be that careless, and look straight at it.”

“Yeah. I wish everyone else thought about it that way.”

“Steve does, so that has to amount to something right?”

“That’s fair.” Bucky said, looking down slightly.

I give a small smile, and follow him to a little volkswagen. There I see Steve, and Sam sitting in the front. Sam gets out, and let’s me in. Bucky follows in next to me.

“I’m Sam by the way. Not sure we’ve met before.”

“Nice to meet you Sam. I’m Y/n, an old friend of Bucky’s from HYDRA.”

“Good to meet you man.”

“Bucky has told me a lot about you, and your combat skills, Y/n.” Steve spoke up as he began to drive.

“Yeah. I don’t really do that anymore. I mostly use my healing powers. I have been volunteering at the local hospital that doesn’t really get support from the major city for some of the critical patients. Especially those with chronic illnesses like kidney, and liver failure. Those who need transplants. I help heal them. They are so appreciative, and super sweet people. I can’t just sit and not help them.”

“Good to see that you are able to help people, and be beneficial and no one fron HYDRA has found you out.” Bucky chimes in.

“Me too. That was the reason I had to get away. I couldn’t let this power be used for evil. I knew I had to use it for good. I can’t over use it though. I can’t have people coming to me, and completely drain my energy.”

“What you’re doing is amazing. The world could use someone like you.” Steve spoke up.

“That’s what I’m worried about. No one can know. No one. I don’t want to be misused.”

“I won’t let that happen. Once we find this guy, you can go back to the life you’ve been living. No one has to know about what you’ve done, but there comes a price with helping us.”

“I understand. If prison is what comes out of this, then I will be willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that Bucky continues to be a free man.”

“With your help, he will be.”

We get to the airport, and meet up with some of Steve’s other friends. An announcement comes on over the intercom that the airport is being shut down. Steve says something about this being Stark’s doing, and we all split up. Sam, Bucky, and I all go in and wait inside the airport. 

The fight quickly begins when a kid dressed in a red and blue onesie broke in through the windows. He knocked Sam down, and went to fight Bucky. He caught Bucky’s fist, then got distracted by his metal arm. That gave Sam the chance to tackle him, and for Bucky and I to run. 

The kid came after us, and we went flying through the glass hand railing barrier, and fell down to the lower level. He then sprays webbing at us, keeping us stuck. The kid goes to swing away, but Sam’s little flying drone thing came and carried him away.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” Bucky groaned.

“I hate you.” Sam spat back.

We break free, and stand up rushing to the runway where Steve and the others were. The ultimate fight began. I took on one of the guys in the metal suits. Kicking, punching, and pushing him to the ground. I knew that Steve didn’t want anyone to get seriously hurt, but all of my training came flooding back. I couldn’t help but have a fight response in this situation. I wanted Bucky to be free, even if it meant I ended up behind bars. He deserved that much, and I would give anything to make sure he was free. 

Bucky and Steve broke through, and were able to get the Quinjet. That left the rest of us to get arrested, and locked in cells in the middle of the ocean at a highly guarded facility. My instincts were still kicking in, and all I knew was that I wanted to break free. Get away from being imprisoned again. I feared that I would be experimented on, and that was the one thing I couldn’t handle. Stark finally, and with a lot of struggle, got me into my cell. I kept ramming into the glass. I felt like a caged animal, and I couldn’t take it.

“Okay, calm down there soldier.” Stark said, trying to get me to stop.

“I’m not a soldier!” I yelled, ramming into the glass more.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down.”

“Y/n, it’s okay. They won’t experiment on you, I promise I won’t let that happen.” I heard Sam say.

“I don’t trust them. I don’t trust people who put others in a glass cell.”

“Y/n, just calm down, and breathe. It’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll make sure Tony doesn’t experiment on you. It’s going to be okay.” Sam spoke softly, and I slowly started to calm down. Having someone like him there to help calm me down. I knew I could trust him because he helped Bucky.

“What’s his problem?” Tony asked Sam.

“He was an experiment for HYDRA with Bucky. He was triggered with the fighting, and his instincts to fight kicked in. How’s Rhodey doing by the way?”

“He’s stable. Probably will be paralyzed. So, he knows where they are going?”

“If you’re trying to get information from me Tony, I won’t spill.” Sam said sternly.

Tony messes with a watch, “We have 90 seconds before they realise it's not their system,” Tony shows a picture of a man dead in a hotel bathroom, “this is the psychiatrist that was supposed to interrogate Barnes. So where were they going?”

“Siberia. Where we were kept and trained for most of the time we were with HYDRA.” I spoke, mostly calmed down.

“Thank you. I will try and fix this. It doesn’t change what he has done, but the Vienna situation wasn’t him. I know that now.” Tony said, walking away.

“Do you believe he really wants Bucky to be free, Sam?”

“I hope so. I hope he helps Steve and Bucky take down the man behind this.”

“Me too.”

We sat there in the cells for what felt like to me, years. I had gotten lost in my thoughts, and all I wanted to know was if Bucky was safe. He deserved his freedom, and I hope he got it. I was sitting against the glass when I heard footsteps coming from behind me, “come to take me away too, Stark?”

“I came to set you free. For you to go back to the life you were living before you came to help us.” It was Steve.

I stood up and faced him, “is Bucky safe?”

“He’s safe, and on Wakanda. He went back under just till he got his mind straightened out.”

“Will he get the freedom he deserves?”

“Yes. Once he is stable enough, he will have the freedom he deserves.”

“Good. I don’t blame him for going back under. It’s the safer option. I would have done the same thing if I were him.”

“You’re free too. No one will come and bother you anymore. I will make sure of that.”

“Thank you Steve. You really are a good friend.”

“You are too.” He unlocks the doors for all of us, “enjoy your new found freedom. Enjoy it.”

“If there’s another fight, and you need backup, don't hesitate to reach out. You know where I’ll be.” I reach out and shake his hand.

“Same goes for you pal. I won’t hesitate. We could use someone like you in a fight. Now go and enjoy your freedom. Live a normal life.”

“Thank you again Steve.” I smile and walk out. I take in the air before getting in a helicopter and heading back home. It felt good, and I felt like I had a new look on life, and now I had some new allies that would be useful if the time came for a proper fight.

#bucky x platonic!male reader #winter soldier #Steve Rogers #captain america #sam wilson #falcon #tony stark #iron man #t'challa #black panther #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #hawkeye #ant man #shield #hydra

[waywardimpalawriter]

Could you do a Bucky/Reader fic for 16 on the smut prompts?

The intimacy of shaving

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader

Bucky Bingo Square: New haircut square

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson

Setting: three months after the end of Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Rating: M (Mature), E (explicit), NSFW, +18 only please

Warnings: fluff, angst, bickering, smut, oral female receiving, yearning, pining, unrequited love, smutty dreams, broken bones, mention of torture, Bucky’s old memories,

Word count: 10,800

Summary: Frustrated with being left behind, worry taking hold after finding out just a fraction of how bad your boys are. Making you start to search your feeling's for both men. Especially with the intimacy of giving Bucky a hair cut and shave. Unexpected emotions surface on all parts.

Notes: Sequel too “My own worse enemy," filling in a bingo square for #buckybingo and also an Anon request asking for smut prompt #16 “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.” Hope you don't mind me adding Sam into the mix sweetie. Also for my head cannon Sam uses Delacroix LA for his base of operation. Wanting to help take care of his family while taking on the mantle of Captain America. Hope you enjoyed doll.

Tag list’s: Are open

@buckybingo

Forever’s: @jedi-mando @chickensarentcheap

Bucky Barnes list: @learisa @eclipses-and-moondust

Story list: @sammyissassy @feelmyroarrrr

Wearing a path from the kitchen to living room ignoring Sarah’s stare, thumb nail damn near nibbled to the bed with how much your chewing the poor abused finger. Cell phone pressed to your ear, listening to Sams deep baritone, “What’d ya mean three places Samuel? How the f-ing hell did you both managed to get so banged up?”

“Explanations will roll out once we touch down Y/N for now know at least he didn’t break his funny bone that’s still none existence,” glancing towards Bucky stretched out over the metal helo bench. Right arm in a sling snug to his body, thick plaster cast covering from mid bicep to mid palm, fingers still visible.

“I heard that and I do to have a sense of humor just not your brand of stupid jokes bird brain,” deep voice unmistakably Bucky’s catching a wobble in the cadence not there when last they spoke.

Swiping a hand over your face wanting to kill them both for leaving you behind. Plans to do just that forming in your mind while snarking, “Remind me again why exactly you chose to leave me behind?”

Staying home you could’ve possibly worked with, the unknown danced on your nerves more than you’d give credit to. Having grown even closer to both men over the last six months, always brushing those pesky feelings and thoughts away that surface during weak moments of worry or sleep.

“To dangerous and I’m not arguing with you on those semantics it’s bad enough cyborg got the shit beaten out of him,” quickly pulling the phone from his ear at the high pitched sound from down the line. Forgetting a moment your attachment to both men, “You finished?”

Low growl in answer, biting off the curses you wish to fling at both Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Don’t worry you’re in for it once you get home. ETA?” Checking the watch strapped to your left wrist, “I’ll come pick y’all up, gotta stop in town for supplies anyway.”

“No worries my trucks at base I’ll get Buck and myself home.” Glancing at his watch, “Landing in about two hours, think you can grab a couple of Miss Bridgette’s pecan pies?”

Too many years working with that man not to know what he likes, “For the shit you and Barnes pulled get your own pie man.” Soft chuckles lets you know Sarah heard you. Eyes locking with her’s for a moment seeing the worry in those warm browns matching as you knew in your own. “Just bring you asses home so Sarah and I can roast them.”

Almost feeling the deep groan from over the phone line, “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing since that’s what I got,” shaking head tips to the side picking up on Sam’s easy breathing and the helo’s engines in the back ground. “Just get home dumbass,” affection in your tone. Ending the call, slipping the cell into your front pocket to flop down into the worn out but still comfortable couch.

“They get hurt?” Anxiety tainting her voice from across the room.

Peeking through your fingers at her, dropping them to your thighs to run the length of denim covered skin, “Don’t know really, Sam sounds fine but a concussion or another type of head injury wouldn’t show it’s self right away. From what I did gather they finished up the mission a little over four hours ago, in flight for the last two.”

“What about Bucky?” Meeting your eyes having confided in her years ago about the crush harbored for a certain metal armed ex-assassin turned Cap’s left hand man. Always leaving out the other part of your secret crush. “Speaking of which you ever gonna tell them how you feel?”

“Busting chops about that again Sarah?” Exasperated sigh marches passed barely parted lips, “Something’s broke in three places that’s all Sam ‘Stubborn ass’ Wilson would say. Just not which one of them or what body part exactly.” Firmly ignoring her last question and not picking up on the fact she said them instead of him. To stand hands to hips, leaning back to stretch and possibly pop your spine. “I’m going to town you wanna come or need anything.”

“And you call Sam stubborn,” head shaking with a fond smile tipping her lips upward. Picking up the subtle shift in your demeanor as relief floods your system with knowing they're coming home at least safe. Having guessed your feelings for her older brother not long ago however, keeping that little tidbit to herself. “I’ll come with, give you company and grief along the way. The boy’s won’t come home till later anyway.”

Eyes roll you reach for the car keys on the coffee table, patting your back pocket to check for wallet and the front for cell phone. “Ready to roll?”

Hour and a half later arms loaded with grocery bags, making sure to hide Miss Bridgette’s pie’s from Sam, you and Sarah set to work putting everything away. Setting to work fixing dinner efficiently dancing around each other like a well oiled machine working together in tandem getting each task done. Back door quietly trying to open, Sam poking his head around the well loved oak wood door. Showing a face littered with cuts, a busted bottom lip and dark shadow of a black eye around his left. But his smile still widens flashing pearly whites at seeing the two of you. Entering, Sam places a large locking suit case and round leather carry case not far from the door.

Soft gasp leave’s Sarah’s lips, quickly moving towards her brother to look him over, “You were ugly before now it’s just worse bro.”

Snort existed through his nose, stepping fully into the house with a limp on his right side, accepting the hug she gives him carefully. “You should see the other guy.”

“I’m the other guy,” voice slightly strained but still light almost playful unlike the Bucky of months ago. Though seeing him coming around Sam, arm cradled close in a black cloth sling. Peeks of plaster noticeable making you groan, head shaking at the very sight of him. Assortment of bruises littered his face, his own busted lip, and a three inch cut circling just above his collarbone. Seeing the storm brewing in your eyes, “No we didn’t fight and Sam didn’t cause these wonderful souvenirs.”

“Stupid ass got captured, wouldn’t listen to my plan…”

“You didn’t have a plan Sam not a logistical one…”

“Oh, so you bulldozing in like a raging bull in a China shop worked so well. Who got capture?” Pressing a finger behind his ear to lift the shell listening for Bucky’s answer. “I’m sorry I can’t hear you. You’re gonna say you right Robo soldier cause that’s the correct answer.”

Exasperated with them both, “Shut it and sit down dinner’s ready. I swear the two of you fight worse than Cass and AJ.” Authority ringing through Sarah’s tone cutting eyes at both men.

“Oh sweetheart Cass and AJ have nothing on these two bone heads, more maturity in their little bodies than both of them put together.” Rubbing your temples trying to fend off the building migraine behind your eyes. “Listening to constant bickering I wanna put them in a ‘Get along shirt.'”

Scowl in place while giving them a full once over. Cataloguing the damage you could see and wondering about that which you couldn’t. Noticing the length of Bucky’s hair almost a shaggy just falling a little over his ears and brushing the collar of the black t-shirt he’s wearing. Full beard dusting his cheeks and chin reminding you of those days long gone back in Wakanda. In contrast to Sam’s neatly kept mustache and goatee, close cropped haircut smartly framing his handsome face. Looking much like the day he and Bucky left three months ago on their reconnaissance mission. Knowing better as looks deceive and clothes cover up places eyes can’t see without stripping them naked. The very thought peeking interest but pushing those thoughts back with a frown. Of course it doesn’t stop you from wanting to hug them both mindful of injures unseen that brings a scowl to your features.

“You wouldn’t?” Traces of fear slicing through those deep russet browns. “I thought you loved me Y/N?”

Speaking over Sam, “What’s a ‘Get along’ shirt?”

Caught between wanting to roll her eyes and chuckle, “It’s a big shirt we’d put the two of you in till ya stop bickering like children and actually get along.” Dishing up dinner, Sarah looks towards both men. Trying hard not to burst out laughing at the sour look on Sam’s face nor the still slightly confused one on Bucky’s.

“I see smoke coming from his ears,” snarky quip receiving a back handing smack to his arm.

Bowel’s placed at the table, “Aim for the head next time Sar.” Taking the seat on Sam’s right offering him a cheekily smile, “Might actually knock the few brain cells he has left around and jump start the hamster running the wheel.”

“You both wound me,” clutching his chest dramatically. “With friends and family like this who can you trust.”

“Dramatic’s must come with handling the shield,” cerulean eyes rolling edged with teasing tone. Glancing towards Sam first then you beside him, going to explain for Sarah’s benefit. “Steve could put on some high melodrama back in the day. Much like Samuel here.” Scratching at his chin with vibranium fingers, a low hiss only you catch sounds when the plates catch the little hairs.

Scoffing, “Only Sarah calls me that first off, second look who’s talking Mr. Bionic Staring machine scaring off everyone who comes within two feet. Dramatics run through your veins just as well. ”

“Children,” both women exclaim hands coming down to slam the table at the same. Before time digging into dinner as the back door opens with Cass and AJ storming inside with excited chatter upon seeing both Sam and Bucky.

Each asking about what happened, how’d the mission go and why exactly Bucky’s sporting a sling and cast. All questions peeking the interested of both women with brows raised and narrowed eyes.

“Settle in first and eat dinner,” Sam intones wanting to keep most of what happened from his family. “For the most part the mission went successful.”

Very unladylike snort leaves your nose hidden behind a glass of sweet tea you sip from, “At least you came back in one piece or three in someone’s case.” Eyes narrow even farther on Bucky who has the good graces to look sheepish and divert his eyes.

“But the super serum why didn’t it help like that,” AJ snapped his little fingers for emphasis on the quickness the serum should work or so he thinks.

“Doesn’t quiet work that way AJ,” Bucky starts running a hand through his longer than usual hair. Giving a short frustrated tug before returning to the topic at hand. “Yeah the serum helps speed up the healing process it’s not instantaneous and,” pausing to side eye you not wanting to admit there’s more injures than just his arm.

Scowl returning having a feeling you know why he’s paused in explaining, “Takes longer to heal when multiple injures are involved.”

Dinner finishes with other questions, skirting the full truth about the mission, discussing the coming week with work and school. Sam’s boyish smile appears when Sarah brings out the pie, cutting out slices to pass around with Reddi-whip, coffee for the adults, milk for the kids. Silence settles for a moment the enjoyment of pie more important to savor and only once done do you raise to start cleaning up.

“I’ll,” shooting Sarah a look with a shake of your head.

“You got paperwork to catch up on babe I’ve got this, besides Sam volunteered to help. Didn’t you Sam?” Shooting a look his way, clearly speaking volumes if the answer comes back no.

Brow arched in question but thought better then to ask, though he flips the script on you, “Of course, Bucky volunteer’s.” Quickly moving away from the hand threatening to land a hard punch to his right thigh. Almost toppling to the floor in his hast to move Sam tweaked his hip a twinge of pain slicing through his features.

“Serves you right Wilson,” thought a slice of regret skates across your thoughts. Head shaking you stand gathering plates as the boys excuse themselves to play video games.

“Homework first or I’m taking those games away,” Sarah yells after them looking in your direction for a second. “You got these two?” Pointing at each of them in turn with her own frown dropping her lips downward.

“Sadly yes,” exasperation clearly written in the rigidness of you stance and narrowing to slits of your eyes. “Blissfully unaware or want to know everything?”

“Unaware I’m just happy their back whole,” nodding Sarah takes her leave, heading for the home office.

Times flown, six months in fact since Karli’s death and Sam taking over the mantle of Captain America. Going above and beyond to change how the worlds become and see’s the shield. Using Delacroix as home base to keep himself grounded and around for his family. Surprisingly enough including you and Bucky the house feels a touch over crowded but wouldn’t want things any different.

“Care to explain what that means?” Limping with hands full towards the sink, Sam places his arm load down watching you move around the kitchen. Putting leftovers up, setting to work on the dishes, the familiarity you exude warms a place in Sam’s heart. Always pushing those thoughts from his mind, your his best friend and wouldn’t see him in any other way. Especially with your heart firmly filled with Bucky.

Giving your back to both men and only acknowledging their presence when Bucky comes over with a bowel. “Thanks,” leaves your lips with a nod.

“We’re sorry for leaving you behind Y/N, but Sam and I agreed things were to dangerous neither of us wanted you to get hurt,” trying to reason Bucky leans his back against the counter beside you. Tugging once again at his too long hair that gets slightly tangled in the plates of his fingers.

“You actually agreed on something?” Catching his actions, your head shakes grabbing for the towel to dry soapy hands and help with his dilemma. “Instead you both come back looking like train wreck’s all beaten, broken and bruised. With a busted arm,” finished with untangling his fingers to point at his arm. Whirling around to assess Sam who’s trying not to put weight on his right leg, “Banged up hip and God know what else internally. Neither one of you are spring chickens for heaven’s sake.”

“Don’t know what your talking about Y/N? I’m not a day over twenty-five,” taking an aim to make you smile and ease the tension in your shoulders. Frown appearing when your countenance doesn’t change but deepens, “Talk to the resident Centurion who got his ass captured and tortured for over a week.”

Low growl leaves your lips pursed together in a grim line, “Do either of you think about the consequences of your actions? Of what’ll happen without either of you in this God forsaking world?” Tossing your hands up and turning back to dish washing, something to keep from chocking the life outta the two of them, or spilling your inner most thoughts. Afraid to loose either man the very thought making your heart clinch painfully in your chest, breathing picking up as tears gloss over your eyes. Plates clang loudly, forcefully slamming them into the drying rack making both men wince at your actions.

“Y/N,” coming up behind you large warm hands carefully rest on tense shoulders. Aware of your feelings for a certain cyborg the thought a little bitter to take but Sam resigns himself to the role of best friend. “We’re sorry really,” taking a breath and clearing his throat wanting to make amends and explain. “We thought, planned, things just…”

“Went to shit around us, it’s not like Sam or I wanted to get the crap beating out of us doll it just,” shrugging vibranium hand coming to rest on your shoulder beside Sam’s. “Got complicated.”

Taking a deep breath drawing in the scents of Sam’s citrus and cider wood cologne you couldn’t put your finger on naming, mixing with Bucky’s old world sandalwood base cologne of 4711. Eyes close for a moment blinking back the tears, and to gather thoughts, righting them in an order that makes sense. Trying to keep out the feelings currently jumbling up your brain. “I know,” body sags back against Sam’s strong chest while unconsciously leaning towards Bucky’s hand. “Neither of you will do that shit again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Not if things go dark side like this time, we’re not putting you in harms way,” feeling you stiffen Sam steps back, Bucky’s hand drops back to his side when you whirl on the man behind you. Stance ridge and firm, Sam crosses his arms adding his own glare and not backing down. “My decision is final on the matter and no amount of arguing will change that.”

Understanding Sam’s position, however the thought of staying behind, waiting to find out if… no you push those thoughts aside. “Mine, that’s who makes the choice not either of you,” heat of annoyance flaring to life as you look between the two men. “Knowing what I signed up for, choose to stick around and help put this broken blue marble we call home back together. I won’t sit out the next mission we clear on that?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, barely audible hiss leaves Bucky’s lips at having hair yanked out by the roots. Though his voice is steady when asking, “Why did you stick around? Thought once Walker handed over the shield, the Flag smashers agenda crashed and burned you’d skip out on the next train back to normal.” Not that he minded of course, in fact Bucky rather enjoyed your company, reminded him of those first months out of cryo getting to know each other. Plus his questions distracted you from getting an answer that won’t satisfy.

“I have my reasons,” giving a half hearted shrug you turn back to finishing up the dishes not really wanting to explain. Not fully sure yourself why you’ve stuck around though deep down you know it has to do with both men. “Reasons neither of you need to know.”

Sharing a look with Bucky, “Don’t pull that shit with us sweetheart you demand answers now we ask the same in return.”

Sure they still argued like an old married couple but a begrudging understanding has built between the pair, coming to an almost friendship neither would fully admit to. Both wanting to protect the small family friend’s circle patched together like grandma’s old quilt. Tattered, frayed and a few wholes but well loved and always cared for. Eyes landing back on you to watch the forward slump of your shoulders rounded inward along with your chin dropped to your chest.

“I have the two of you house broken,” idea forming to steer the conversation away. “Don’t need that headache on repeat and I wouldn’t leave the two of you bone heads alone to kill each other or drive poor Sarah crazy,” quicker than either can react you’ve scooped up hand fulls of soap bubbles to smash into both their faces. Deflecting the conversation away from having to answer and lightening the mood. Or so you hoped with the playfully murderous looks both men shoot you. Skirting Sam’s grabby hands heading to put the kitchen table between yourself, Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Now boys that’s just all in good fun and your both hurt so I suggest you think about your actions before retaliating.”

Wiping the remains of soapy bubbles from his face, thick fingers making wet tracks over denim to dry hands. Sam edges a little closer intent on trying to snag your arm. That ghosts through his fingers, “For now but remember paybacks a bitch sweetheart.” Bright smile tugs his full lips, head shaking though he knows there’s so much more your hiding from both he and Bucky. One day he’ll crack that secret you hold so dear, for now Sam lets you cling tightly.

Watching him go you turn towards Bucky who’s smirk sets you back a moment. “I don’t think I like that look Barnes,” arms crossed mustering a half glare. “Sam’s right you really can see the smoke rising from your head.”

“Hahaha that jokes getting old,” light hearted quip falling from his lips, eyes raking your form as you near the sink. Catching you looking between finishing the dishes and making sure Bucky’s not going to retaliate. “I come in peace promise besides I’m too old for revenge I’ll leave it to you young whipper snappers,” throwing his voice to sound like an old man.

Laughter rings full and deep from your parted lips, soapy hands gripping the sink to keep from toppling over in mirth. His own chuckle exists on a grin, cerulean eyes taking in how carefree you look. Tension and worry melted away with his well played grandpa joke. Making Bucky wish he got to see you like this more often but then he remembered why he never searched. Why he left you alone and only within the last ten or so months managed to reconnect the missing dots in his life. Sure there’s still blood on his hands he tries to scrub clean with each mission, to make those amends and not just avenge. But truly help people in ways that didn’t require lead or blood.

Still wondering, so he gives voice to those thoughts, “Why didn’t you go back to your life doll?” Feeling he’s perpetuated a grave error in asking the question but a part of him wants. No needed the answer to know why you’d give up a happy life for one of danger and uncertainty with him and Sam.

Sobering, his question hitting you like a ton of cement bricks keeping you from turning to face him. Wincing when another hiss echos around inside your head from your right side. “Tell you what Buck you let me cut that hair and beard of yours I’ll answer your questions.”

“I get you don’t… wait… what?” Not sure he’d heard you right. Pain making a return to fog his brain for the moment as throbbing radiates across his broken clavicle to the dislocated shoulder, dancing along the fractured radius and painfully tingling his fingers. Soft curse exists his lips reminding himself to take Sam’s suggestions next time though he wouldn’t let the other man know. “Don’t happen to have any pain meds do ya doll?”

Eyes narrow, “Which parts did they break?” Holding up a hand to stop him from answering while you head towards your room. Grabbing up the small med kit Sharon gave you months back for times like these. Pausing to scoop up the hair scissors and trimer, along with a shaver and cream, both of which belonging to Sam. “Now you were saying?”

Placing everything on the table, unzipping the medium size unassuming black bag pulling out a small bottle to pop the top and wiggle out two pills. Handing those over to Bucky who just stares at them resting in his metal palm.

“Trying to kill me doll?” Teasing tone to the cadence of his words while popping them into his mouth and excepting the glass of water. Downing in one go and handing it back, “Never did like pills reminds me of Steve.”

Resting a gentle hand on his bad shoulder, “If I tried to kill ya Buck you’d see it coming,” snickering at the wide eyed look he gives you. Sobering with understanding filled eyes that stay locked with his, “I’m sorry it”s not my intentions to bring up the past.” Moving to put the glass down, you stay at the sink looking out over the backyard, orange and reds dancing over the rippling surface of the bayou. Sinking sun creating a cornucopia of color heralding the on coming twilight and the end of another day.

“You didn’t Y/N,” coming to stand next to you watching the golden ball of life giving light slowly sink into the horizon. On the tip of his tongue to speak about Steve, the abandonment he felt acutely with the absence of his best friend. Slowly filled by your present, that of Sam’s and his family. “I guess ‘Till the end of the line’ meant just till he could get back to who he really missed.” Anguish heard loudly through soft spoken words not meant for your ears but once uttered there’s no going back.

Out of your peripheral vision you study Bucky for a moment heart breaking for the man who’s lost so much to then fully face him. His own gaze staying straight ahead staring unseen out the window with tan lace curtains framing the coming twilight. Over head light casting shadows in the hallows and angles of his features, bringing out the bruises highlighting the cuts, making your heart ache for this man in ways you’ve tried to push aside. Ways you didn’t want it to feel in case of rejection but couldn’t help the tightening in your chest nor the want to embrace and hold Bucky close.

“Come on,” without thinking your hand slips into his vibranium palm tugging till he follows and only dropping to scoop up trimmer, combs and scissors before heading out the back door.

For a moment Bucky stood there thankful to Shuri for the ability to feel warmth and the weight of your hand in his vibranium limb. The very thoughts your simple gesture conjures damns his heart making it beat triple time. When your head pops back around the door sweet smile crossing those kissable lips. Bucky has to remind himself you’re off limits friends nothing more and to breath. Your beauty stealing the air from his lungs, making it hard to focus on anything except your present.

Catching the out of focus look in his cerulean eyes mind swirling with questions as to what he’s thinking about. “You gonna stand there taking root or get your silly ass out here,” motioning with a jerk of your head over your shoulder smile still firmly in place. Making sure he’s actually moving before existing to place a stool about middle of the back porch. Patting the hardwood barstool then reaching up to tug on the pull string as light floods the area casting a bright glow.

Transfixed for a moment in the doorway with the peek of skin allowed to his eyes. Your heather grey band shirt riding up teasingly tormenting him. Cursing internally, tongue trapped between indenting teeth to keep the sounds at bay. Till the hard slap of your palm against wooden seat draws his attentions and he robotically takes the seat. Stiffening with the fluttering of a barber’s cape hating to have things around his neck. Only to settle once you have it in place and buttoned reminding him your not there to hurt or torture him. Fingers brushing lightly over the exposed skin of his neck, creating goosebumps to dance across his flesh.

“Not too tight?” Gently running nimble fingers through his hair, blunt nails scratching the scalp. Finding it hard to keep from rubbing into your hands and fighting the urge to purr with each pass. You work the larger knots out carefully, pulling a comb from the back pocket of your jeans to run through his hair. “You with me Buck?”

“Hmm?” Simple noise issues from the back of his throat lost in the tingling sensations your fingers bloom across his body. Wanting to chase the feeling bringing peace to his mind much like the soft cadence your voice takes on with the intimacy surrounding the two of you. Sweet chuckle music to his ears and snaps him back to now, noticing you’ve paused your hands waiting for a response, “Sorry no I’m good.”

“Enjoying yourself Barnes?” Teasingly quipped while adjusting the cape to cover his back. Making sure all his hair lays over the edges and carefully combing out the smaller knots your fingers missed. Secretly enjoying the soft chestnut strands as they curl around your fingers. Massaging his scalp hoping to relax his tense posture when a particularly stubborn knot has you accidentally giving a not so gentle tug. Garnering a low moan from the man in front of you. “Sorry Buck,” working the knot out with a little more care taking the sound as one of pain.

Throat clearing, thankful his crotch is currently covered to not give away the secret he’s concealing. Praying to all the heavens you’ve taken the moan as one of pain instead of pleasure that’s surfing through his veins with a simple hair pull. “Yes, and it’s fine,” words pushed passed lips held taunt to keep from letting any sound out. Searching his mind for a topic to settle on, willing his body to stop reacting to the warmth of yours.

Each brush of fingers sends heat flaring to life along his nerves. Knowing the pain killers don’t worked through his system that quickly. Yet, the throbbing ache once present has diluted to a low annoying thump with the heat of your hands on his cotton covered shoulder. Wanting to lean back into your body but holds himself ridge from doing something stupid like enjoying the moment. Therefore clears his throat, “You’ve got me at your mercy doll ready to answer my questions?”

“Should I worry what you’ll ask?” Moving from behind him to head back into the kitchen. Grabbing the empty spray bottle to fill with warm water and head back out.

Eyes close with the first spritz of water, chin dropping to chest as you work to wet his hair. “Why?”

“Why what?” Knowing what he’s asking, your distracted for a moment putting the spray bottle’s trigger through a belt loop incase its needed once your satisfied with the wetness of his hair. “I’ll need more specifics than just why. Why’s the sky blue? Why’s it so damn hot? So many why questions you gotta stop wasting your breath Buck.”

“Cheeky doll very cheeky you know damn well what I mean,” keeping his head still to prevent you from severing an ear.

Smirking, setting to work on trimming up the top back portion of his head, trying to keep from childishly making faces. “Sure don’t Sarge.”

Groan slipping passed before he’s able to trap and swallow the sound at the off handed use of his military rank. Wondering which deity had it out for his ass today. Cursing the fact he’s let you so close to breath in the flowery scent of your body. Gentle use of those skilled fingers through his hair not making things any better for the growing problem tenting his jeans. Returning to himself when you move to his left shortening the hair over his ear. “Why’d you stay with us? I thought,” remembering those painful words back in Madripoor. “I thought you had a happy life to go back to.”

“Ear hustling Barnes?” Switching sides and glancing down with a raised brow you know he doesn’t see.

Looking up to try and catch your eye your focus on cutting his hair makes the attempt impossible. So he settles on, “Don’t know what you mean doll. Just asking a question,” trying to hold the shiver at bay when your fingers brush over the shell of his ear.

“Since your asking it means you didn’t hear everything Sam and I talked about,” thankful that’s the case or things would get a whole lot complicated. “I lied.”

Head whipping to the side so quickly you fear he’s damaged his neck with the wince taking over his handsome features. “Lied why?”

“Reasons,” ‘Ones I won’t tell you James,’ speaking the last words in your mind, careful probing fingers check for anything popped out. Garnering a hiss of pain when you’ve found the break in his clavicle. “What did you break besides the hamster running your wheel brain?”

Bitting off the curse as pain flared over his right side. Gritting out, “Clavicle, dislocated shoulder, fractured radius, you can see the cuts and bruises so take it a little easy on this old man.”

“How… Why did you get captured?” Worry fights fear both dance with anger marching through your veins as a Thanksgiving Day parade band would down the streets of New York City. The very thought of both your men hurt and so far away from home torn a hole in your heart. Thoughts you try to push away and focus on the job of cutting Bucky’s hair.

Finishing up what you could on the back of his head, Bucky feels you come around to the front. Knees spread to accommodate your body, closing his eyes to keep from staring at your breasts. Licking suddenly dry lips with having you extra close, he tries to gather an answer to your question. “We needed an in so I made a decision.”

“One I’m sure Sam disagreed on,” carding your fingers through the top, snipping pieces checking length. Jealous over how soft his hair feels between your digits. Woodsy pine scent reaching your nose that twitches in pleasure at the fragrance matching what you always thought he’d smell like.

“Yeah well we ran out of time doll. Couldn’t let what remains of LAF get away,” eyes quickly open only to slam shut again with having you still too near for his own good.

Every brush of your fingers, thighs brushing against his with every move, your flowery scent wrapping around his heart to squeeze tight. Breath punched from his lungs when your knee makes slight contact with his erection. Shooting pleasurable fireworks off behind his closed lids. Wishing for your hands on his body, wondering what they’d feel like over bare skin. If you’d shy away from the scars littering his flesh or… he wouldn’t, didn’t need to think about the alternative.

Unsure why he gasped you move from between his legs and look upon his face confused as to his ridge posture eyes held tightly closed. Insecurities rushing through your mind, setting up shop to remind you no man let alone someone as handsome as Bucky would ever want to look at you. Shoving back those thoughts to ask, “You okay Bucky?”

“Fucking fabulous doll,” bitting out the words while trying to reign in the need to grab hold of your hips, bringing you back against him. Wanting to find out if you’d fit as good or better than what he’s imagined during those dream filled nights he doesn’t talk about with anyone. “Finished?” Praying you’ll say yes, the temptation becoming almost unbearable.

Unconvinced by his words but pushes that aside and stepping farther back to round him, grabbing up the trimmer on the way with a numbered comb. “Almost but then I still have your beard to do.”

“Fuck,” low gravely voice intones the single word hoping you’ve not heard and cursing the heaven for this test of his will and desires. In another life Bucky wouldn’t have hesitated to ask you out, wine and dine with dancing till midnight. Taking you home with a simple kiss of promise with more to come. But he’s different now and you don’t deserve to have a broken man on your hands.

Swallowing harshly to cover your growing need to escape and bury yourself in another program or book to distract from those awful thoughts running around in your mind. Replaying all the brush offs and look aways as rejection shattering your heart. Pushing you to finish his new hair cut that much quicker. “Done, now how short you want your beard?”

“Gone,” knowing exactly what he’s saying and damning himself to the torture of a different kind.

Coming back in front of him, you slip between his parted knees so easily a thought you try to push away while switching the trimmer combs and flicking the on button. Carefully cupping his left cheek while shortening the right for a closer shave once your done. “Surely you didn’t just let them capture you.” Returning to a safer subject other than how good his bearded jaw felt in your warm palm. Wondering how it’d feel in other places.

“Offered myself up for a little bloody torture and a few broken bones. I’m here to tell the tale instead of those guys Y/N. They're off the streets and we have the information needed to finish taking down LAF.” Teeth gritting to keep from rubbing his jaw into your palm, from turning to kiss the center and devour you with his mouth.

Pausing a moment, “But you could’ve gotten killed James.” Sorrow coloring the cadence of your tone, eyes filled with fear at what could’ve happened. “You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped.”

Heart stopping, never had you spoken his first name, always Bucky or Buck, Barnes when your angry but never James. Opening his darken cerulean orbs breath trapped somewhere between lungs and mouth at the sorrow written deep in those eyes he never could not stare into. Heart hammering back to life with the subtle brushing of your fingers over his cheek, “Would it have matter?”

Confusion tips your head to the side, “What you dying or me helping?”

“Dying,” single word dropped like a bomb destroying everything in the path.

“James,” softly spoken with so much emotion held within the countenance of your features. Watching the ghosts float through those beautiful cerulean eyes, memories of a time he couldn’t control, of deeds done to people who didn’t deserve the pain and death he dealt out as the Fist of Hydra. Tears gloss over your eyes once again trying to blink them away to keep them from clogging your emotions filled throat. “It matter’s Barnes, matters to a lot of people you’re just too stubborn to realize that.” Shaking your head to clear the fog and get back to work.

Speechless Bucky just sits there letting you finish up trimmer the hair away as if trying to erase the past months, the torture he let happen with no regard to his personal well being. During this time your words chase around his mind, combined with Sam’s out right demand of him to never put himself in harms way like that again. Adding more questions added than any true answers. Delicate fingers brush over trimmed facial hair bringing him back to the present right as you move to take the barber’s cape from around his neck. Missing the warmth of your touch, heat radiating from your body, your scent filling his nose and making him drunk on you.

Folding the cape to drape over your arm, “I’ll shave you as well come back inside.” Voice slightly rough with unshed tears avoiding looking directly at Bucky and missing the longing written in the ocean pools. Mistaking his lack of response for rejection of your words and feelings. You enter the house placing the small hand load down and moving a chair over towards the sink. Returning to grab up the shaving cream and razor, pulling a fresh wash cloth from the draw by the sink too wet it hot.

“You don’t have to,” entering and closing the back door with the heel of his boot. Bucky leans against the counter watching you with a closed expression. Pain dull but still worming its way through his veins along with so many thoughts.

Glancing his way, “I know,” motioning with a wave of your hand, “but if I don’t that beard’ll come back in short order and we’ll have to do this all over again.” Going for playful to ease the tension built from the lingering words of out on the porch, “Bring your ass over here Buck.”

Your change in mood has a confused frown pulling his mouth down but complies with the order. Taking up the seat with spread legs and turned up face watching you wring out the wash cloth. Using your elbow and tipping his head back to gently place the hot cloth around what’s left of his beard to soften the hair and wake up the pores. Catching the small muffled groan, “To hot?”

“No, perfect,” faintly hearing the two simple words you grab up the shaving cream to put a generous amount in your palm before pulling the quickly cooling cloth from his face. Tossing it towards the sink and applying a layer of cream to his skin. Left overs rinsed from your hands quickly before drying and grasping the razor with steady hands. “Just a little off the top if you please,” boyish smirk slips over his lips tipping cream covered cheeks up while trying to be funny.

Eyes rolling, “To late for that one top’s already taken care of.” Using the pad of your thumb to push the skin of his cheek taunt. Carefully dragging the razor over his flesh intending to keep your gaze directed towards working the blade over his check. However, you’re unable to do so while cleaning the razor as your eyes dart up catching the fact Bucky’s gaze firmly rests on your face. Heat blooming across your body, eyes drop back to his cheek intent on getting finished quickly to avoid any farther embarrassment.

Meanwhile Bucky maps every feature of your face, the slant of your nose, set of your eyes, cupids bow of your top lip. Visions of drawing the plump flesh in for a bite and pull before letting go with a wet pop, filter through his mind. Finding himself in a rather precarious predicament, thighs spread to accommodate your body, his palms itch to grasp and tug you into his lap. Bitting back a moan each touch brings, the gentleness tearing a new hole in armored covered heart. Wanting to keep you out but finding it harder to do every time you show the kindness his life lacked for decades.

Minds eye drawing the curves of your cheeks, lips twitching to caress, fingers tapping trapped in plaster and cloth against his body. Wanting to brush his knuckles over your throat to gently grasp the back of your neck and bring your lips against his for a slow sweet drink of the tempting cavern of your warm mouth. Only snapping back to reality with the soft brush of your fingers along his jawline.

Searching for any hairs left behind, soothingly palming his cheeks with cool hands desperate to taste his skin. Drag your lips over the same spots the razor just graced. Teasing the tip of your tongue along the hard edge of his jaw to place a kiss just below his ear. Tempted to even suck a mark for everyone to see. You swallow harshly removing your hands from his cheeks to rinse and warm up the cloth to clean off any residual shaving cream from his face.

“Finished,” clearing your emotions clogged throat, stepping towards the sink, your profile the only side Bucky sees as you work to clean up the mess.

Feeling rather than hearing him stand heat radiating of his body just a few inches shy of brushing against yours. “Thank you doll,” impulsively leaning forward to brush his lips over your cheek. Lingering longer than he should but unable too stop himself from pressing soft slight chapped lips to the corner of your mouth. “Next time I need shavin’ I know who to come too,” breathing the words before pulling away, taking his leaving quickly to keep from doing something even stupider. Like wrap you up into his arms and actually kissing those pillow soft lips. Backdoor swinging closed a little harder than he meant in his bid to get away from your warmth and tempting body.

Frozen in place, skin tingling from just that slight press while your heart beats almost out of your chest. Pounding against your rib cage so hard fear it’ll crack a rib any second now. White knuckles grip the sinks edge, heat flaring across your body to pool low and throb through your lady parts. Thighs unconsciously rub together needing friction to alleviate the ache growing between your legs.

“Did you cut him or take a hunk of hair out and now he looks like Frankenstein monster?” Teasing tone to his quip, Sam enters the kitchen still staring at the back door. Having watched the exchange from the darkened hallway. Reverting his eyes to your back, taking in the ridge posture of your spine with a slight very subtle shake. “Y/N what’s wrong?” Swiftly coming up behind you, hands gripping your shoulders to turn you around. “Did Bucky say or do something wrong?” Worry creasing his brow the want to hold you close growing with each second your not in his arms.

Looking up into the kind russet eyes flashing with concern and worry, “No,” head shaking, “no he didn’t Sam just…” unable to stop yourself from burying your body against Sam’s firm chest. Trying to figure out how to explain what’s running around in your head. The indecision, thoughts you know shouldn’t roll through your mind doing just that as your arms wind around his trim waist.

“Just what sweetheart?” Wanting to help smooth things over between his two best friends even if it meant swallowing his own feelings.

Keeping your eyes closed, breathing in his cedar wood and citrus scent, burying your nose against his collarbone. Always able to calm the raging storm of emotions boiling through your veins. Confusion setting in with those same tingles you feel when Bucky touches you now dances across your body at the warmth of Sam’s arms cradling you close. Reminding you of earlier when his chest pressed to your back strong hands gently placed on your shoulders. The shiver you suppressed at the touch of both men. At the memory your eyes pop open and you quickly push away from Sam as if he’s burnt you. Needing to escape and figure out what’s going on.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry,” feet quickly taking you from the kitchen into the safe arms of your bedroom.

Missing the confused look marring Sam’s face that turns into hurt at the way you’ve shoved him aside. Body sagging against the counter, hand rubbing at the back of his neck searching for what’s changed in such a short period of time.

“Men, blind and just plain foolish,” landing a hard hit to his shoulder, which he rubs to alleviate the pain. Sarah comes up beside her older brother with a raised brow. “Still don’t get it? Searching for exactly why she reacted so strongly? Think Samuel use that big brain you have and actually put it to good use.”

Frown creasing between his eyes and drawing his lips down, “Left behind sucks Sarah that’s all it amounts to. But we… I couldn’t have her along, wouldn’t risk her life like that.”

“Has nothing to do with leaving her home Sam,” giving him a meaningful look that still bewilders him. “Why didn’t you want her along but you took Bucky with you?”

“He’s a super soldier Sar he can take the hits not that I want him hurt either. Shit when he let himself get captured,” moving towards the abandoned chair to plop down heavily. “He scared the living shit outta me, I thought…” hard to swallow the memories of watching those men pulling an unconscious Bucky into a van. Driving off before he could plant a tracker and barely able to get up with bruised ribs making breathing painful. Sam runs a hand over the short hair unsure when things got so complicated between the three of them.

Pulling up a chair in front of Sam, “You’d lost him?” Seeing the nod Sarah’s features softened knowing from the tell’s she picked up watching the three of them for so long. “You love them?”

“What?” Head whipping up so quickly making Sam wince. “Of course I do but not like that I mean their family, you know I’ll do anything to protect my family.”

Hand resting on his shoulder, “You keep telling yourself that big bro maybe one day you’ll actually believe it and able to push those feelings away good enough to keep them at arms length.” Looking up at her, “Just a word of advice,” seeing him nod, “don’t push those emotions away, you deserve that love they both would readily give you.”

*****************************

Softly closing the door behind you heading towards the ensuite bathroom for a nice cold shower, preforming your nightly routine, and shutting off every light except the one beside your bed. Falling into the soft mattress with your current book keeping you company for the rest of the night. Eyes start to droop, words blur and you read the same sentence half a dozen times. Book falling against your chest as a yawn takes over your features.

Body stretching out against cool sheets jumping when a soft knock echos around your room, eyes darting towards the clock to see its just a little passed mid night. Slowly getting out of bed, pulling the extra long dark blue with little pink flowers dotting the sleep shirt down to cover your ass and thighs. Thinking its Sarah checking on you, eyes shocked wide with the small crack you open the door to spy Bucky standing there fidgeting.

“Everything all right Buck?” Opening the door wider to lean against the casing arms crossed just under your breasts.

Swallowing, glancing from your eyes to lips repeatedly. Trying to form the words he wants to speak when the decision makes itself clear and Bucky surges forward. Gently wrapping vibranium fingers around the back of your neck and bragging you against his strong chest. Slanting his lips against yours, nipping your bottom lip to make you gasp and slipping his eager tongue passed into the warm depths of your mouth. Leading the kiss and praying he’s not wrong.

Rewarded by your arms winding around his neck careful of his injures. Fingers tugging at the now shorten strands thanks to your expect hands. Garnering a low moan from the depths of his chest, one that rambles with a pleased hum as you return the kiss. Tangling your tongues together making nothing soft nor gentle about this melding of mouths. Only breaking apart for both of you to gasp for air.

“No, nothing’s all right doll. I can’t stop thinking about you,” resting your foreheads together sharing common air. Fingers at the base of your skull massaging the tension with surprisingly easy pressure. “I’d done fighting, done pushing you away, I need you Y/N.”

“James?” Lips tingling from a kiss you’ve only dreamt about as confusion marring your tone, eyes blinking a few times to make sure you’ve pushed the sleepy haze from your mind.

Soft groan issues at hearing you whisper just first name, hand slipping down to wrap around your waist and pull your taut to his body. “If…” trying to push the next words past his lips, “if you don’t want…”

“Us, we need to know now sweetheart. We won’t push you into anything you don’t want,” Sam’s voice full of desire and longing cuts across Bucky’s for a moment.

Making you look up from eyes locked with Bucky to stare at Sam trying to process his words, the look in those beautiful russet eyes you can’t pull yours away from. Till Bucky presses a kiss to just below your ear, “We know it’s a lot to take in doll and you can say no…”

“I,” gulping like a fish out of water, heat thumping through your veins at the unspoken promise both sets of eyes show. “I don’t know what to say.”

Stepping forward to push you back a step so Sam can fully enter your bedroom and close the door. He comes behind you sandwiching your body between two walls of muscle and masculine warmth. Pressing a kiss to the opposite cheek, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, “There’s no going back sweetheart you’re ours if you say yes. But if the answer is no I’m not going to lie things will change. Awkward as hell yes especially at first but I,” Bucky clears his throat to which Sam nods, “we would work through that with you. Loosing your friendship can’t happen no matter what.”

Removing yourself from between their warm bodies to collapse at the end of the bed, head in your hands. Mind so confused, a jumbled mix of desire and lust touched with a heavy dose of love that scares the living shit outta you. Feeling the bed dip on either side, removing your hands to glance at both men. Seeing the reassurance in those cerulean and russet orbs you swallow to wet your parched throat. Gaining strength to finally speak, “I don’t want to loose either of you,” looking between both men. Taking each hand within your own, “But this last mission taught me I don’t want to deny my feelings any longer.”

“What feelings doll?” Giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

Looking into Bucky’s cerulean eyes, “I’m in love with both of you.” Switching to Sam’s russet orbs seeing the blatant want shining only boosts your confidence to lean over. Cupping his jaw and bringing your lips against his. Different from the kiss you shared with Bucky. Who’s bottom lip begs for a nibbling, Sam’s fuller lips press against your own in tender caresses.

Gentler too, a soft slant of his mouth against yours, pressing twice at different angles before tracing over your bottom lip. Gaining entrance on a sigh of need to check in with your tongue before tangling together. Heated palm cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple twice while he artfully pillages your mouth. Drawing out a low moan squeak following when a set of lips slide over the side of your neck nibbling a short path to suck a mark behind your ear. Making you weak and boneless against Sam, who releases your cheek and hand to grip your hips, having you straddle his thighs.

Kiss breaking for air, “I’m to heavy Sam, your hip.”

“You’re prefect baby girl no arguing understand?” Cupping your ass in both hands to roll your hips against the hard bulge of his erection. Teeth gritting at how good you feel in his arms, the damp heat of your core only serving to make him grow harder with each brush against your cloth covered pussy. Sam reclaims your mouth, this kiss much different. Desperate and demanding taking no prisoners this time as he immediately slips his tongue back into your mouth. Pulling a groan from deep within your chest, arms going around his neck to help move your body against his. The delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure radiating out over your body, clit throbbing with a need you’ve never felt before.

Hissing at the cool sensations of Bucky’s vibranium fingers drawing circles across your back. Pushing your sleep shirt off your body arms raising, breaking the kiss to accomplish the task. Looking over your shoulder at the bare chested Barnes, mouth salivating at the sight eager to touch and kiss every inch. Brought back to Sam with the heat of his mouth connecting to your pulse, adding his own mark to your body while his callused fingers dances across your back.

Cursing his rotten luck for not having use of one hand, Bucky steps forward lowering to his knees carefully. Brushing his lips along your spine while cool alloyed fingers sweep around your body between you and Sam to trace a line between your breasts. Head dropping back to Bucky’s shoulder and baring your breasts to Sam’s hungry glaze and Bucky’s questing fingers.

“So beautiful,” words whispered reverently from Sam’s lips against the damp column of your throat. Mouth tasting each inch of your skin he can reach. Till moist heat circles your nipple, wet tip of his tongue coming out to flick the tightly budded peak before sucking harshly. In contrast to the cool patterns Bucky draws, taking the time to tug before pinching just hard enough that your back arches into Sam’s mouth.

Pushing into Bucky at your back a whimper parting your gasping lips. Needing more of both men surrounding you, slick coating your trembling thighs as you clinch around nothing. Dragging a whine of desperation from you soul,“Please,” single word escaping your mouth.

“What doll? What do you want?” Drawing his lips up to your ear, nipping the lobe bringing it between his teeth giving a sharp bite at the same time Sam flicks his tongue over your nipple.

Letting go with a wet pop, smiling at the whine exiting your heaving chest, “I think out girl needs more Buck. Any thoughts on how to please her?” Brow wiggling over your shoulder at Bucky who just smirks.

Fingers sliding down then under the band of your panties to find you soaked and pulsing. Cool metal meeting heated flesh makes you jolt in Sam’s arms. Grinding down into those wonderful fingers and against the thick ridge of Sam’s cock.

“Don’t stop please,” gasping head lolling back, your eyes close as sensations crash through your veins. Tight coil starting to form with just the brush of his fingers.

Maneuvering closer to slip two fingers into your clinching channel. Deep groan vibrating through his chest and into your back, “Fuck Sam she’s tight and so wet for us. I bet she tastes just as good as she feels.” Rocking your hips, fucking his fingers desperate for that high traveling up from the bottom of your spine. Tickling your tummy with jolts of pleasure only to have it diminish when Bucky pulls his fingers out.

Frustrated whine leaving your lips only to choke on air when Bucky offers one of the fingers perviously buried inside your cunt to Sam. Who doesn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around the single digit, groaning at the very taste of your essence. Circling the tip with his tongue, making sure to clear every drop off while keeping eye contact with Bucky. Mimicking with his mouth how he’d suck Bucky’s cock, garnering a growl from deep within his chest. Letting go with a smirk, “Even better Buck and I bet from the source it’s simply heaven.”

“Only way to find out,” answering grin firmly in place he raises from the floor. Helping you stand on shaky legs turning you to face him. Capturing your lips in an open mouth kiss, flicking his tongue against yours, teasing your bottom lip and drawing out another frustrated groan making him chuckle. “Don’t worry doll we promise you won’t go unsatisfied we’re going to take care of your every need.”

“Don’t tease her Buck it’s not fair,” glint of mischief sparking through those russet eyes that only Bucky catches since your still face him. Sam comes up behind to pressing his bare chest against your back, hands resting on your hips, tugging and letting the band of your panties snap back against your skin. “You can still say no.”

Wiggling back against Sam then pressing forward to feel the hard line of Bucky’s erection against your lower tummy. Knowing why he’s asking, seeing the same sentiment mirrored in Bucky’s eyes that warms your heart filling with love for both men. “Now who’s teasing Samuel,” reaching behind you to slide your palm over his ridged cock giving a squeeze at the same time you palm Bucky. “I’m sure my loves,” enjoying the answering growls from both men. Before another word leaves your lips Sam tugs down your panties letting them pool at your feet as Bucky moves you towards the bed.

Swiping the book from the mattress to lay on the nightstand, smile on his lips at finding the well loved copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Bringing you to sit then lay back against the cool sheets, trailing his vibranium fingers from your cheek down between your breasts. Circling each nipple, giving the right a light pinch that has your back arching and a gasp existing your paired lips. Distracted till Sam gently grips your left ankle, spreading you open to slide between your legs. Pressing kisses alone the inside of your leg towards your thigh. Soft bread tickling your skin making giggles erupt from your mouth.

“I think she likes that Sam,” the comment spoken against your ear. Placing a kiss to your cheek, “Have to remember to let my own beard grow back out.”

Whimpering softly at the thought one hand fisting the sheets as Sam draws his tongue over the crease between thigh and groin. Purposefully avoiding the spot you want him most, “Payback is a bitch boys,” words growled out right as Bucky envelopes your left nipple into the heat of his mouth.

“Teasing half the fun sweetheart have patience,” looking up from between your legs. Stiffen tongue drawing up from your entrance to clit, circling the little throbbing nub and making your back arch, gasping for air.

“Fuck,” single word breathed from deep within your body. Sweat starting to bead across your forehead. Head tossed back into the pillow free hand carding through Bucky’s chestnut hair tugging the strands harshly till he lets your breast go with a wet pop. You guide his mouth up to yours, demandingly taking the kiss over, slipping your tongue into his mouth this time. Swallowing your moans of delight with each thrust of his tongue. Matching the pace Sam sets against your dripping cunt.

Rutting into the mattress to find the prefect friction hoping to ease for a moment the throbbing of his cock. “Stop stealing all those pretty noises Barnes I wanna hear our girl,” reaching up to smack the other mans thigh hard enough to break the two of you apart.

“Sorry not sorry,” giving him a smirk while licking his lips from the heated kiss.

Filing away the fact Bucky knows what means only to have any thought fly from your mind as two thick fingers enter your quivering channel. Slowly thrusting, his mouth suctioned onto your clit, drawing little short patterns making your thighs shake around his head. Slacking off to lazily place kisses over those thighs but still pumping his fingers, crooking them into a come hither motion to brush over that special spongy spot.

Blooming stars behind your tightly closed eyes, “Watch him doll, see how much you loves devouring that pretty cunt.” Voice rough with arousal against your ear, Bucky’s metal fingers dancing over your chest only adding to your heighten state of desire.

At his command you eyes open to lock with Sam’s passion blown blacken eyes. Moaning at the picture he presents you with, panting breath as you keep drawing closer to your orgasm. Only to have Sam back off creating frustrating tension in your body. Gritting out, “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.”

Smirk showing in those beloved eyes as he doubles down on your clit. Lips puffy but forming a perfect O too suction and flick his tongue over the engorged nerve bundle. Fingers, third added to stretch you open and picking the pace up as your mouth drops wide in a scream Bucky devours with a deep kiss. To keep from waking the kids or Sarah, his own body on fire with a need to have you both.

Tingles quickly dancing through your veins, breath panting as you break from Bucky’s mouth, one hand gripping the sheets below the other still buried in his hair. Body on fire as you near that perfect orgasm Sam’s intent on giving you.

Denial’s not just a river in Egypt as your eyes pop open at the knock on your door. Reminiscent of what your sluggish brain comes to understand as just a very vivid dream. One that makes your heart drop with the book that’d lay on your chest now face down on the carpeted floor. You stand checking the time of mid night before heading to the door and finding Sarah on the other side with ice cream in hand.

“Figured you might need some cheering up,” letting her in and taking the bowl of your favorite ice cream.

Vivid dream lingering though you don’t share feeling a TMI moment she doesn’t and most likely wouldn’t want to know about her big brother. You steer the topics away from the non existent love life to plans for tomorrow and the coming weekend.

#Buckybingo #New Hair cut square #Sam Wilson x Female Reader #Bucky Barnes x Female Reader #Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader #Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader #Bucky Barnes x F!Reader #Sam Wilson x F!Reader #TFATWS fiction

[susiequaz12]

Carrot Top- 14: Afraid

Woooh! Another update! I didn’t expect this one to come so soon, but it did, so here yah go. Time to also meet some new people!

CW: Medical whump, restraints, blood/knives/torture mention, non con (nonsexual) touch mention, possessive/creepy whumper.

Tag list: @imagination1reality0, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @thehopelessopus

Masterlist here.

The small girl burst into the Doctor’s office, dragging a boy behind her by the hand. 

“Dr. Tusik!” She called. “Tusik!” She threw out her arms, releasing the boy’s hand as the Doctor turned around from his stack of papers he was investigation. “It’s been far too long! We definitely have to do something.”

The doctor set a paper down and looked at the girl, speaking in a slow voice, with an accent long faded of his home country. “Slow down vnuchka, is this about what I think it is?”

“Andrew!” She cried. The doctor nodded. The boy standing in the doorway dropped into a seat behind them in the small office. 

“This is not like him.” She continued. “I mean, sometimes he’ll hold a grudge- and, and we’ve all argued before, but usually you just, give him a day, you give him some space and he’ll be fine. Dr.- It’s been five days.”

“Slow down now child, just breathe. We’ve sure to find an explanation.” The old man pushed his glasses up his nose. He adjusted the papers on his desk and took the stethoscope off from around his neck, placing it on the messy pile of paperwork and writings.

“An explanation for why Andrew’s been mia for almost a week?” The boy asked. “I’m sorry Dr Tusik, but what kind of good explanation could there possibly be for something like that?”

The girl spoke again. “Justin’s right, where could he have gone? He lives with us for goodness sake, he hasn’t answered his phone, his mom’s is too far away and he doesn’t have a car, there’s- I don’t know where else he could be! There isn’t anywhere else he could be!” 

“Ali, calm down, pozhaluysta, please.” Dr. Tusik stated gently. “It’d do good to remember you’re not the only ones with concerns for the boy.”

At the shouting and the noise, a figure had stood in the doorway behind the two. They turned around to find a young girl. Younger than Ali by a few years, but much taller and ganglier. She had beautiful curly auburn hair that tangled itself up no matter what you did, and freckles across her nose. You couldn’t mistake who she was related to- it was obvious. 

Andrew’s sister. 

Her eyes were red and she held a crumpled tissue in her fist. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, and then smiled. 

“Hey guys.” She stepped into the small office. 

“Mickie- hey.” Ali stated. She approached the younger girl and wrapped her arms around her in a hug.

They all sat down in chairs around the small office while Tusik explained.

“Mickie came in a few minutes earlier with the same concerns. She’s visited a few times now, and we’ve previously discussed some things. Possible explanations, and solutions.”

“I just can’t get it out of my head that he’s really mad at us.” Justin stated. “I mean, I feel like I kinda pushed him over the edge a little that night- it’s understandable if he’d want to ignore us.”

Mickie shook her head. “Andrew doesn’t ignore people. He’s too kind for that.” She sniffled. “We’ve literally gotten into some of the worst arguments you could imagine growing up. I mean, he shoved me in a suitcase once that ‘accidentally’ fell down the stairs, all because I’d broken his Star Wars Lego set. We didn’t talk for the rest of the day but after that we were fine.” She turned to Justin. “He doesn’t hold grudges. Andrew’s not mad at you, so don’t blame yourselves.”

Ali kept a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She changed the subject. “So have you heard from him? When was the last time you guys talked?” 

She shrugged her shoulders and got quiet, wringing the bottom of her t-shirt in between her hands. “Just that night. We were texting and I could tell he was getting frustrated with you guys-”

Justin interrupted. “I knew it, I knew he was mad at me, I should have given him that ride home, I shouldn’t have-”

“Justin shut up.” Mickie stated. Justin stopped abruptly. She brought a hand to her face. “Sorry, I- he wasn’t mad at you okay? Just frustrated- trust me.” She sighed and fiddled with the crumpled tissue in her hands. “He talked to me more than anyone. Sure, he lives with you guys, but put yourselves in his shoes. You have each other to hang out with. When you’re spending all your time making him feel like the third wheel it’s understandable for him to get a little frustrated. He wasn’t mad, I promise. Just tired. He was saying how he needed to clear his head, just walk, spend a bit by himself.”

Dr. Tusik began to speak, breaking the silence that had begun to fill the room. “Mickie and I have previously discussed where he could be- potential theories and such, as well as our ideas as to how to solve the problem.”

“Oh?” Ali asked.

“Andrew and I talked almost constantly. I mean he’s not just my big brother, but he- he’s my best friend. He’s not- he’s not ignoring anyone, he couldn’t be, so- he... he-” Mickie’s voice began to break. Ali rubbed her back as she began to cry.

Tusik finished for her. “He was taken.”

Mickie regained her composure quickly, dabbing at her eyes with the torn up tissue. “There’s no other explanation. Why else would he ignore us all for so long? He probably- he probably feels just as bad about it as we do.”

“But who? Who possibly could have taken him?” As Justin asked the question, silence filled the room once more. They all knew the answer immediately after the idea had been posed. The man had been looking for them for a while now, ever since they all discovered their abilities. 

No one wanted to admit that that was where he was right now. 

- - - 

Andrew twisted his own fingers in his hands as he sat. He twisted the bottom hem of his shirt up, wrinkling it between his fingers.

His ears popped as a yawn got trapped in his mouth. It was late at night, after dinner. He knew because he hadn’t been fed- his stomach growled ever so slightly. He had been left alone all day, and had fallen asleep only to be awoken roughly to be dragged down to another one of these rooms.

There were often times he’d be dragged down here, and spend all day in an endless misery. 

Those days were the worst.

They were the days he was taken in to be tested- to be poked, prodded, examined. Rough hands grabbing at him, stabbing him with things, treating him like a lab rat incapable of cohesive thought.

One day he was forced to run on a treadmill until he passed out or threw up. They were testing his heart rate apparently.

Another day they cut into his muscles. Poking at them to “see how they worked”. Other times they just sat and stared. 

So when Splice said that the doctors had a new drug they wanted to try, anything could have been possible.

He was placed in the medical chair as Splice sat on a stool next to him, waiting for the “Doctors” to come in. They were called Doctors, but for all intents and purposes, they were just people curious about how peculiari worked- hired to treat them like lab rats using whatever unconventional methods they saw fit. 

When they came into the room a wave of cold chills instantly ran over Andrew’s body. There were three people- all wearing medical masks in white coats and gloves. They didn’t acknowledge Andrew as they walked in and set a massive amount of supplies down on the counters. 

Splice stood up from his stool while one of the doctors spoke to him in regards as to what could be expected from this procedure. Andrew tried to pay attention, but it was difficult when the other two doctors were surrounding him where he sat. 

His wrists were grabbed and strapped down to the armrests of the chair- his ankles restrained in a similar fashion. He felt the mechanical humming of the chair through his muscles as it was lowered until Anrew was laying nearly flat on his back. Then a thick strap came to wrap across his forehead as well, keeping his head in place.

He tried to remember to breathe as he began lose track of what was happening around him. 

He felt something tight around his bicep, cutting off circulation, and then something cold and wet wiped across the crook of his arm. This was followed by the sharp sting of a needle before an iv was slid into his vein. 

The cuts on his other arm were quickly cleaned and bandaged without a second glance. 

He flinched, as cold gloved hands reached under his shirt, placing several small patches onto his chest. They connected to wires that stuck out of his shirt and tangled around him, leading to machines that surrounded the chair he was strapped to.

The third doctor quickly finished explaining things to Splice, and the man sat back on the stool, content with whatever was about to happen to the boy in front of him. 

A cart was rolled over with a massive amount of different knives, tools, vials, and bottles. Andrew shivered- thankful at least for the small protection of his shirt.

The actual administration of the drug went quickly. It was slid into the iv and Splice and the doctors sat with clipboards, simply waiting.

At first Andrew didn’t feel anything. 

And then all of a sudden everything was closing in on him. The world started spinning around his head- he felt cold chills up and down his spine and sweat started dripping down his face. His eyes couldn’t focus on any specific thing as shapes distorted, growing larger and smaller, spinning around and flying through the air. Any slight movement around the room seemed to fly at his head, causing him to flinch and recoil back at the foreign objects.

He thought he heard voices but they were muffled. Just sounds that echoed in his ears and throughout his brain. Undecipherable, but loud and invasive.

And then out of nowhere, his heart seemed to betray him.

Without a second warning, his heart sped up, pumping as fast as it could. He heard harsh, shrill beepings around him as it felt like his heart would explode out of his chest. His breathing got heavier and he felt a weight on his chest. Like all 350 pounds were suddenly on top of him again and he couldn’t breathe. 

And then he had a singular, prominent thought. It spoke so loudly, and so clearly in his mind.

I’m going to die.

The fear of that thought struck into him and he suddenly had the image of Splice coming towards him, knife in one hand, whip in the other. Then the man was on top of him, and his hands marked ownership- gripping at the collar, grabbing at his hair and face. He saw the whip crashing down over his body, the knife tearing through his skin. His limbs began to feel warm and sticky as he felt his blood pooling over his sides, washing down him in rivers, splashing onto his face as Splice began to beat him senseless.

And Andrew screamed.

Though he was muzzled, you could still hear his terrified cries as he truly believed that his tormentor was carving him open and beating him to death at that moment.

Though at that moment- Splice was still sitting on the stool next to the Doctors, watching Andrew thrash about on the bed. He smirked as the screams tore at Andrew’s throat, coming up empty behind the muzzle surrounding his face. 

“That’s genius.” The man stated. “You said it mimics fear?”

The doctor closest to Splice nodded. “The drug triggers the body’s natural responses to fear, making them actually think they’re in danger. We’re hoping with some alterations it will cause more extreme hallucinations and paranoia. Of course this is just a test run.”

“It’s brilliant.” Splice stated.

Andrew’s eyes were clenched shut tightly as tears and sweat poured down his blood-stained face. His body shook, knuckles white as he mumbled incoherently through the muzzle. 

He suddenly arched back as if in recoil from pain, his chest heaving in the air, legs scrambling to try and curl into himself. 

And he screamed once more. 

It was harsh, and loud, and guttural, and brutal. He choked on his own spit before bursting back into a series of sobs. The whole time his body continued to shake and thrash about, eyes occasionally shooting open, only to be clenched tightly once more.

They waited maybe an hour or two to try and see the full effects of the drug from beginning to end. Andrew didn’t know how long it had been, and Splice didn’t care to know himself. The boy had periods where he would flare up with terror, the shock and phantom pains taking over his face and body. And then for long stretches of time he would lie there, quietly sobbing to himself as tears streamed from his eyes. 

Sweat dripped from his forehead and chills wracked his body as his temperature spiked. His wrists and ankles were raw and red from where he’d struggled against the restraints.

His reactions were getting slower as the drug began to wear off.

They watched the boy suffer for a few more minutes before one of the doctors inserted new fluids into his iv. The fluids ran through and within a couple more minutes the drug had been completely flushed out of his system.

Andrew lay in a broken mess where he was restrained in the chair. The doctors pulled off his restraints, and Splice chuckled as the boy flinched at every hand that came near his face, and every jostled movement of his body.

After a couple more minutes, the iv was removed, the machines turned off, and Andrew was being pulled to his feet. Splice stood in front of him, hands bracing his shoulders to keep the boy from toppling over. 

Andrew fell forward, his head lolling into the man’s chest. Splice rested a hand on the back of his head, gently carding through the pale locks of hair. 

“I want full updates on the progress of this drug. I expect an updated version within the week.” Splice stated. He tilted the boy’s head up by the chin to look him in the eyes. They looked blurry and unfocused.

“How nice it will be to be able to hurt you without getting my hands dirty.”

He let Andrew’s head fall back to his chest.

Splice began to guide the boy towards the door when a guard burst into the room. The man look disheveled, clearly in pain, and a little confused.

“Sir!” He cried.

“What is it- what’s happened?” Splice asked.

“There’s been a break in. We have intruders in the building.”

A look of shock washed over Splice’s face, followed by a small smile. The man gripped Andrew by the shoulders and looked down at the boy. “Well, let’s go meet our guests, shall we?”

#whump #whump writing #oc #original work #original writing #carrot top #medical whump #blood #knives #torture #possessive whumper #i promise carrot boi will get some comfort eventually #emphasis on the eventually #give it like 10 more chapters idk #bonus points to whoever can tell me where Dr. Tusik is from #he's my favorite old man

[plus-size-reader]

The Same

James “Bucky” Barnes x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2423 words

Warnings: Trauma, but should not be triggering. 

Summary: Reader is a hydra super-soldier who Fury puts a kill order on, but Steve knows he has to stop it. 

This started out as a Steve x Reader but when Bucky is involved, I can’t help myself. 

Part 2

———————————————————————————————————

When they had first thawed you out, Fury wanted to put a bullet in your head and leave it at that.

You had been created and programmed by Hydra, so there was no way for them to know what kind of person you were. There was a possibility that you'd end up hurting someone, or worse.

However, as soon as the decision was brought to Steve, he knew that he had to put a stop to it.

You were a super soldier, a person who knew exactly what he'd been through. It didn't matter to him that you'd been created by Hydra, or that you could end up being bad.

The risk was worth taking.

He knew that he could help you, if Fury would give him a chance.

"Director, we need to talk" he started, barging into the man's office like it was no big deal at all. Typically, Steve was all about respecting the rules and regulations but this sort of thing was time sensitive.

There was no way he was going to let them execute you just because of what you were.

For all they knew, you'd been kidnapped and tortured just like Bucky had. There was a good chance that you were a good person who'd just been caught up in the wrong situation.

No one deserved to be punished for something they had no control over.

Fury had been expecting the intrusion at some point, knowing that Steve was going to reject. However, it was none of his business what they decided to do with you. It was way above his pay grade to worry about things like that.

"What is it Rogers?" Fury wondered, not even bothering to turn his chair to look at him. Instead, he just waited for the other man to speak, already having a pretty good idea about what he was going to say.

As soon as he gave the order, Fury was waiting for this conversation to find him.

"I have to talk to you about the kill order" Steve started. Usually, he was very careful and respectful when talking to Director Fury but now wasn't a time for that.

A life was on the line and Steve wanted to make sure that came through in his argument. Right now, all that mattered was keeping you alive.

Steve thought for sure that his statement was going to get a rise out of the other man. However, Fury didn't even bother to say a word. This was an order that he gave, and it wasn't to be questioned.

There was no way for S.H.I.E.L.D to know if you were a danger or not. They didn't know what you were programmed to do and they had no idea how to control you.

It was too great a risk to take.  

"When I give an order, I expect you to take it" he started, almost expecting Steve to back down, though he should have known better. Rogers was a trained soldier, a man who followed orders without question.

Except when he felt that it wasn't morally right to do so.

It was his only flaw, but it also made him an excellent ally because he kept the avengers, and even Fury himself better than they would have been without him.

"I understand that, but you ordered an innocent girl's murder" Steve shot back, losing his patience more and more. He had witnessed Bucky's rehabilitation first hand.

He knew that no matter what you'd done, you could be better in this life.

Hydra had used you, they had brainwashed you and turned you into a machine. All you needed was for someone to remind you that you were still human.

"What would you have me do, Captain?" Fury wondered, finally turning to face him, his fingers rubbing up and down on his right temple as he fought a headache that threatened to develop.

The longer this conversation went on, the more he wanted it to end.

...But the Director had just given Steve a shot. All he needed was a chance to plead his case, and Fury had provided it to him on a silver platter.

"Let me scope it out first. Let me meet her, and if I think she's a lost cause, I'll put her down myself" he offered.

The words hung in the air for a few moments as Fury thought it over.

It could be dangerous, but on the other hand, Steve could clearly handle himself. There was just one problem-There was no way he'd be able to do it.

Even if you proved yourself to be a huge threat, there was no way that Steve Rogers, the boy scout that he was, would be able to go through with it. Luckily, Fury knew just the man for the job.

Finally, after what felt like years, Fury spoke.

"You can go, but you'll take Barnes with you" he ordered, pushing the button on his chair that opened the doors behind Steve, which he correctly took as his cue to exit.

While it wasn't ideal to expose Bucky to memories like that, things he'd buried long ago, he knew that Fury had a point. No one knew more about what you had been subject to better than Buck.

If you were dangerous, he would be the first to recognize the signs.

Now all he had to do was convince Bucky to go with him...which would either be very simple, or impossible. With a man like Buck, it was hard to tell.

~

"I said no" he repeated, towel-drying his hair, fresh out of the shower.

It didn't matter what Steve said, there was no way that he was going to go babysit some girl. In his opinion, it was better to just put you out of your misery.

Bucky knew how painful it was to have to try to live a normal life with all those nightmares and memories. He wouldn't wish it on anyone else, it was too messy.

As far as he was concerned, you were already dead...at least, whoever you were before, was.

"Come on Buck, she needs our help. You know that she can get better" Steve tried, practically pleading with his best friend to help him do this. He wasn't going to let you die, so you either had to live your life as the enemy, or they could try to rehabilitate you...

Like they did for Bucky.

There had to be another way.

And if there wasn't, then Steve would do what he had always done, and he would just make another way.

There were always choices.

"There's no such thing as better, I think you mean 'not worse'" he supplemented, smirking at Steve like it was a joke, though they both know it wasn't.

Regardless of that though, Steve knew that there was no way the two of them were going to let you die. You may have done some terrible things, but that wasn't who you were.

At the very least, they owed it to you to find out as much about you as possible before just slaughtering you.

"I meant what I said, now are you gonna help me or not?" he asked, knowing well enough that Bucky wouldn't refuse. The brunette didn't have it in him to let another person suffer as he had. If there was the slightest chance in hell that you could live a normal life, he would help you take it.

Though, all he could do was sigh at first.

It was a heavy sigh, the kind of sigh that held the burdens of several lifetimes but eventually he nodded. "Of course I'll help you, knuckle-head" he grumbled, following the other man out of the room.

Fury had decided to keep you locked in a private room in the medical bay, few people would have contact with you, which lessened the body count if you somehow found a way out of your restraints.

And of course, by restraints, he meant leather straps that held your wrists and ankles tight to the table and a muzzle that kept your jaw closed. You had been screaming and freaking out periodically since they woke you up and he didn't want anyone else to hear it.

However, that all ended today.

As soon as the door opened, your gaze snapped to both men immediately. You looked like a stray dog, with so much desperation and fear in your eyes. It broke Steve's heart to have to look at you.

But the affect that seeing you had on Bucky was somehow greater.

He had never seen another person in this position before, this position he had been in a million times before. It was earth-shattering, and it sent this wave of nausea through the man.

There was just no way to process what he was looking at.

Something Steve could tell right away.

"You alright? You can take a minute" he suggested, pointing toward the door directly behind him. Bucky was practically white as a sheet, something that was rare for him, so he agreed.

"Just get her out of those" he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly as he moved into the hallway. After you were free, he would be able to sit and talk to you like a normal person, but he couldn't handle that.

No one should ever have to be held like a caged animal.

Bucky didn't even know you, but as soon as he saw you, he understood why Steve had been so adamant about this whole thing. There was no way he was going to let anyone hurt you unless it was the only option.

Steve did as he was told, after watching Buck for a few seconds to make sure that he was okay. Once he was convinced that he was just composing himself, the blonde's attention was fully on you.

"Hi, I'm Steve...I'm here to help you" he started, taking a few steps closer to the hospital bed you were strapped to. You were understandably terrified of the man, but somehow, you knew he was telling the truth.

You had never met a man with such kind eyes before.

"Is that okay?" he checked, doing his best to keep you as calm and comfortable as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you.

All you could do was nod, but as soon as you did, he went to work on the strap that held your jaw closed.

This whole thing would be much easier if they could actually talk to you. While he was busy with all the latches that confined you, Steve heard the door open then close behind him.

However, he didn't turn around until he was finished with the job, knowing that it was just Bucky.

"You okay?" he checked, a hand falling on his best friend's back. Typically the touch would have bothered Bucky but he'd recently learned to get over all the trauma he'd associated with touch.

He was getting better at it.

Bucky only nodded, his eyes locked on you.

You were no longer wearing the muzzle, nor were your limbs secured to the table but you made no motion to move or speak. You simply sat there, staring at the wall in front of you.

It brought back so many memories for Bucky, sitting in that damp basement, all the electricity frying his mind. He had been so alone, but you weren't alone anymore.

You had people, people who were willing to do anything for you that would make this whole process easier.

"What's your name?" he asked, stepping closer to you. Subconsciously, Steve stepped out of the way, sensing the connection that you two shared that he couldn't reciprocate. This was going to be a process for all of you, and you all had to play your own roles.

Right now, it was clear that Bucky needed to talk to you in only the way someone with shared experience could.

"Y/N, where am I?" you wondered, voice quivering. He couldn't tell if it was out of fear or because you hadn't spoken in a while, but it didn't really matter. Bucky wasn't bothered by the difficulty, in fact, he was impressed.

He hadn't actually been expecting you to talk to him.

"Give us a minute Steve?" he asked, a silent question deeper under the one he asked. Nevertheless, Steve only nodded, stepping out for a second to give the two of you the privacy his friend needed.

This was a very delicate topic and it was just easier if you only had to worry about one person, rather than two. In your position, he assumed that two large men would be kind of intimidating and scary.

"You're safe, my name is James. You can call me Bucky if you'd like" he started, taking a seat on the end of the hospital bed. It was close enough for him to be at your level but not so close as to make you uncomfortable.

You nodded, your breath hammering in your chest as you looked around the room. You took in your surroundings, though you didn't leave your eyes off him for too long.

"Do you remember anything?" he whispered, doing his best not to remember his own trauma. Surprisingly, focusing on you made it easier.

He was much more concerned with your well-being than his own, which was nice. He only wished that it didn't have to be under such circumstances.

"Screaming, their begging is so loud" you whined, as if the voices in your head were causing you physical pain. It had happened when he woke up too, all the memories came flooding back all at once.

It was hell on earth.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm the only one here" he assured, reaching out slowly to take your hand in his own. Your hot flesh was met with the cool sting of the metal, which instantly captivated your attention.

If he had been thinking clearer, he wouldn't have touched you with his metal arm, but what was done was done.

"What happened?" you wondered, touching the appendage with feather-light touches. You could hardly breathe, slowly inching the contact up until you met the place where the metal made contact with his flesh.

It was mostly scar tissue at this point, but he still flinched slightly at the touch.

It took everything in his power to say it but after a deep breath, the words fell from his lips.

"I'm like you, we're the same"

#Bucky Barnes #bucky #james buchanan barnes #bucky x plus size reader #bucky x reader #bucky x ps reader #bucky barnes x ps reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #james buchanan barnes x ps reader #james buchanan barnes x plus size reader #marvel #marvel x plus size reader #marvel x ps reader #Avengers #avengers x plus size reader #avengers x ps reader

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (4)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 4: Incoming! | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 | Previous: Chapter 3 | Next: Chapter 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

His holotable beeped, signaling an incoming message.

“Admiral?” he greeted when he answered the call.

“Sir, the transport containing the suspect has arrived. Shall I call an escort for you?”

“No need. I’ll be on my way.”

“Very good, sir. Transmission out.”

He strode through the hallways, Stormtroopers stiffened their backs until they’re erect at the presence of the Eleventh Brother, commanding officers curtly saluted when he passed them by, and he blatantly ignored the Fifth Brother and Eighth Sister in his periphery.

He arrived at the interrogation block and entered the cell where they’re keeping the captive.

It was Boss Lora.

Cal stood by the Stormtrooper and demanded the details.

“Lora Argul, proprietor of the Yewa Docking Bay & Inn,”

“And where is this docking bay located?”

The Stormtrooper glanced at his datapad, “In Hoga, sir. That’s in Cameegon,”

Cal repeated the planet’s name in a questioning tone.

“A temperate planet in the Daoro System, Jama Sector,”

“Daoro? Then it’s an Outer Rim planet,” the young Inquisitor pointed out, he stepped closer to the adult woman strapped to the interrogation machine. “Don’t bother struggling, it’s not like we’re going to set you free anytime soon.”

“Please, I don’t have anything to do with you! I’m just a business owner!”

“Oh, I know,” Cal cooed emotionlessly. “But I think you know something that I need. You might know somebody I’m looking for.”

“I don’t know anybody! My customers come and go, I only have my family!”

Lora tirelessly pleaded to Cal—it’s the same words in different order, but the same idea all in all. The young Inquisitor watched the prisoner wriggle in the torture machine, begging without a pause, until she succumbed to her tears.

Cal walked closer to Lora, a colorful woven bracelet stood out from the drab of her dark brown work clothes. He reaches for the bracelet and now his Force ability comes in play.

“Look what I made you, Mama!”

“Oh, how beautiful! Thank you, sweetheart!”

“Here, I’ll help you wear it. Do you like it?”

“I love it! I’ll always wear it so everyone can see.”

He saw the bright-eyed girl that is her daughter. The warmth of the child’s love radiated all over this woman’s being. His Psychometry allowed him to “borrow” such emotions, thoughts, and images for a period of time; he has done so to his multiple captives on their various campaigns ever since he was induced into the Inquisitorius.

Yes, he thought as he found her weakness.

“You have a very kind daughter. Kaleen, isn’t it?”

“How did you know her name?!” Lora roared.

She knew she never said anything, she only thought of her child when Cal started to enter her mind using his powers. It was something she has never seen or experienced before—and it terrified her. The wild, out-of-pace beating of her heart throbbed through her chest, any moment now she might feel it burst through.

“Oh, I should remember to apologize to your daughter personally. The little brawl in your cantina must have given her a big scare—with what her papa unconscious and her mother taken away right in front of her very eyes. Who knows what that little girl is thinking right now.”

Lora tugged herself from her restraints as far as she could until she’s eye-to-eye with Cal.

“You do so much as touch the tip of a hair strand from my daughter, I swear I will kill you!”

Cal smirked albeit concealed by his mask, satisfied that he had provoked the woman, he kept the bait hanging right in front of her until she tells him what they want to hear.

He consciously avoided the question, “You are going to tell me where you’ve seen the fugitives.”

“What fugitives?”

“You will tell me,” the smirk seemingly lost its amusement, Cal stepped closer and clutched the woman by the wrist as he demanded. “Where she is.”

At that exact moment, Lora suddenly felt like someone or something was tearing her brain open while fully conscious—the pain was excruciating, albeit the absence of the high-voltage shocks of the actual machine; Cal’s grip grew tighter, nearly barring the circulation to her hand, the next thing in Lora’s mind was you. She never intended to think or speak of you in front of this fearsome, young man—to her, it just happened.

There…! Cal celebrated sooner than he could wait.

The memory that played was your first time in the docking bay, her very first interaction with you, Lora still had that stingy tone when speaking to you. The image of you examining the ship she asked you to fix as an entrance trial and smiling back at her with a smug confidence played behind Cal’s eyes.

“Well now, I gotta say your work is impressive, kid!”

“When do I start, boss?”

There.

Your smile. Your laugh.

Even the faintest melody of your laugh came through for him.

For one, his heart skipped a beat—he saw the length of your hair has changed but your smile remained the same.

“Please…! Enough!” Lora sputtered out crying.

Cal jerked his hand away and turned around abruptly.

“Prepare my ship!” the boy Inquisitor commanded.

“Right away, sir!” a lower-ranking officer promptly replied and went ahead for the task.

“Bu-But, sir,” the admiral stuttered, hoping that it doesn’t offend the Eleventh Brother to stop him in his tracks. “What about the prisoner?”

“I leave it to you then, Admiral.”

The Eleventh Brother marched to the hangar, flanking him were two TIE pilots. Upon his arrival, the technicians have just finished recalibrating the TIE Fighters as well as his ship: a TIE Interceptor that he personally modified to his liking. The technician unclamped the docking boot of the Interceptor while his co-workers did the same for the two other Fighters.

“I want transports each carrying assault units and a squad of fighters deployed en route to Cameegon with me.”

“Yes sir, understood!” the attending officer’s heels clicked and marched to the hangar’s command center with an urgency.

The young Inquisitor climbed into the cockpit, the glass dome slid shut with the touch of a button. His fingers follow an invisible yet learned pattern of switches and buttons. There was an indescribable feeling that he cannot pinpoint with a single word, perhaps the closest being “elated.”

The TIEs’ engines hummed in a collective baritone, lights on the screen flickered to life, the ships hovered and then zoomed past the ray shield of the hangar.

—–

Meanwhile, back in Cameegon, you’ve been training in the forest for the rest of your day-off. You were out of breath, but the clean air from the trees refreshed your lungs as you inhaled and then exhaled. This expansive stretch of land has become your own haven—it’s where you mostly do your Jedi training and meditation, it took a long while for you to get used to doing them alone.

BD-1 may have kept you company while you spend your time in the woods, but it was different having someone actually with you, though you didn’t want to offend the little one so you always kept him close to you.

“Alright, BD, toss me another!”

The little white droid—perched upon a tree branch a few paces in front of you—trilled and threw the whole, rotten fruit in its claw—that you’ve installed yourself some time ago—and you went charging towards it; when the distance was enough, your heels sprang from the carpet of leaves and you somersaulted in the air, severing the target in half in the process and then landing back on the balls of your feet.

BD cheered for you in high-pitched whistles and song-like trills, followed by another string of conversational tones.

“Really? Should I have jumped a bit earlier?”

“Trill, chirp!”

“Hah, well, I really can’t tell if it’s by the second, little guy! Maybe I could borrow your scanners next time,” you joked.

The droid replied with a nervous trill, but you knew that he was only playing along.

“How’s the claw? You getting used to it or should I modify it some more?”

“Boo…” BD’s singular scope-like scanner examined the external appendage. “Woop!”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do later,”

You beckoned the little droid to come to you, it activated its little turbojets on its feet and then willingly clambered on your shoulder. You continued on with your training, cutting down the training dummies that you made out of logs and leaves—your own regimen consisted of combining new moves with learned ones, last-minute improvisations if the need arises, and inventing more styles which is a hybrid of both old and new. You liked the adrenaline pumping in you when using the environment against your “enemies.”

Afterwards, you’re traversing the terrain, knowing the twists and turns of the forest like the back of your hand—a result worth of seven months’ progress. The path that you followed was one of your personal favorites—it was still an obstacle course, but you cut through and traversed it effortlessly. You decided to banter with your little droid friend while you trekked uphill.

“Hanging in there, BD?”

“Woop! Bee-woop.”

“Oh, you think so? I sounded like him for a moment there?”

You gave a weak chuckle in response to your exploration droid’s comment. Next, it gave out a somewhat apologetic tone, to your surprise you asked him why he was sounding like that.

“No need to apologize, buddy. It’s okay, don’t worry.”

“Woo!”

“Heh, you sure perk up quick!”

You’re almost to the top. The end of the hill’s path wasn’t the real summit—at least for you. You scaled the rock face of the waterfall nearby, there were enough rocks sticking on the wall to serve as handholds and footholds. It was a quick climb to get to the top of the waterfalls, only then, you’ve really seen the true expanse of Cameegon. The sight of the lower jungle and the river delta connecting to the sea was breathtaking.

How I wish you’re here to see it. You muttered under your breath, dedicating it to Cal.

The entire view took off a heavy load from your chest. Simply look at it warranted a smile from you and a look of wonderment as if seeing it for the very first time.

“So pretty, isn’t it, BD?”

“Woo-boop!”

You patted the little droid’s head as the two of you gazed upon the majesty of the unspoiled part of the planet.

Over time, you’ve grown to love this planet because of the solitude that the trees have given you, it was your secondary comfort next to the company of your family, the Mantis crew.

Your sightseeing was disturbed when you heard machinery humming—the noise got louder by the second—and then three black ships come speeding past your view. Your eyebrows furrowed, something about them tells you that this is not your regular merchant convoy.

Their flight direction came from the east and they’re heading westward. Your eyes squinted in suspicion—you peered through your binoculars, zooming in by turning the knob resting by your thumb, until you got a better look of the silhouettes. Your lips parted open.

“Oh no…” you shuddered.

Without a second’s notice, you kicked the coil of rope sitting by the edge of the waterfall and rappelled down. You started bolting through the path in the forest, while running you try to reach Cere’s signal from the Mantis—but the wildlife was so dense that it interfered with the clarity of the signal.

“Cere! Can you hear me?! Cere, come in!”

A garbled radio frequency was your only response, but your feet kept running—it’s as if it was moving on its own—and made your way back to the ship.

The thought of the settlement suddenly entered your mind, but logically, the town is much farther from your training course in the forest—you’ll never make it in time even if you drive with your speeder’s top speed. In the middle of your combined panic and contemplation, you stumbled upon a detour and realized it too late.

You look around and find that there are no familiar landmarks around the area.

You’re lost and alone among the trees, accompanied by the chittering of unseen animals, and the apparent presence of the Empire… or the Inquisitors.

#cal kestis #cal kestis fic #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader fic #star wars #star wars fic #sw #sw fic #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi fallen order fic #swjfo #sw jfo #swjfo fic #sw jfo fic #jedi fallen order fic #jedi fallen order #jfo #jfo fic #dark side! cal kestis #dark side! cal kestis fic #inquisitor! cal kestis fic #inquisitor! cal kestis #redemption arc! cal kestis #redemption arc! cal kestis fic #redemption arc #redemption #inquisitor #inquisitorius #dark side #dark side of the force

[jamesmoore]

What is a kink? 

We can generally define kink as a “specific taste in sexual behavior.” This could be anything from a foot fetish to full-on whipping and spanking. There is a slight difference between kinks and fetishes- we’re talking about kinks here. A kink is something that arouses us that's not considered sexually vanilla. A fetish is a sexual act or an object that is nearly always necessary for the person to become aroused and enjoy sex.

This list is split into 3 sections: 

Vanilla Kinks – “mild” sexual kinks that most partners are happy to try

BDSM Kinks – “moderate” or more extreme sex acts that incorporate aspects of BDSM

Extreme Kinks – “extreme” kinks and risky sexual practices

Here is our list of vanilla kinks which aren’t too extreme:

1. Traditional Roleplay

This refers to roleplay scenarios that are commonly used in the bedroom – the kind of scenarios you get in cliché ‘70s porn films! A plumber comes to “fix the plumbing”, a sexy French Maid seduces a houseguest, etc.

Thought Catalog has a list of 50 roleplaying ideas you could try.

2. Lingerie and Sexy Outfits

Whether it’s lacy panties or a sweaty jockstrap, revealing outfits can help to build sexual arousal and get one’s kinky juices flowing. Men and women are often aroused by outfits related to certain types of professions, such as a sexy nurse or firefighter.

3. Rimming

Rimming, also known as anilingus, is the sexual act of licking a person’s (clean) anus. The butthole has many sensitive nerve endings, so rimming feels really good whether you’re male or female.

4. Fingering

Fingering refers to any sexual act where fingers are inserted into the body – usually into the anus or vagina of yourself or another person. Be sure to go slow and use lots of lubrication – our lube guide can help.

5. Food Play

Incorporating food into the bedroom is incredibly common, whether you’re seductively sucking strawberries or melting chocolate onto your partner’s body. There are also many aphrodisiac foods that can help get you in the mood.

6. Filming Yourself

A more vanilla version of exhibitionism, filming yourself having sex is a very common sexual fetish. Even if you never share the video with anyone else, just knowing that you’re being filmed can be a turn-on.

I feel like a porn star when I film me and my partner having sex. I feel like others are watching and getting off on it. It’s really hot.

7. Striptease

The art of the striptease is nuanced, but sexy stripping is a huge turn-on for plenty of kinky men and women. The anticipation of the reveal coupled with the sexiness of the dancing can really build sexual arousal for both parties.

There are many online tutorials showing how to striptease for women and stripping tips for men.

8. Oral Sex

Blowjobs, pussy licking, 69ing… oral sex is commonly enjoyed by many. Lots of men, for example, enjoy watching a partner perform oral sex on them while making eye contact.

9. Armpit Fetish

Some have a fetish for armpits, meaning that they find armpits inherently sexy. They might like to sniff them, lick them, or just look at them during sex.

Armpit fetishes are one of the many kinks covered in the gay hanky code – the code of colored handkerchiefs used by gay men and kink fans in the 1970s to indicate interest in different sexual acts when cruising.

10. Tickling

Known scientifically as Knismolagnia, tickling your partner (or enjoying being tickled) is a fun and enjoyable kink that is a real turn-on for some.

11. Sex in Different Locations

Get out of the bedroom! Have you tried having sex in the shower? Doing it on the stairs? Getting busy on the washing machine? Take the repetitiveness out of sex by switching up the setting.

12. Edging

“Edging”, also known as orgasm denial, involves bringing your partner to the edge of climax, but stopping before they orgasm. It’s often combined with bondage, but you can do it in a more vanilla way too.

13. Mirror Sex

Have you ever had sex in front of a mirror? It’s fun to watch yourself. It’s a bit like watching porn, but it’s you and your partner in real-time. Some kinksters like to put mirrors on the ceiling above their bed so they can watch while they shag… a bit like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, but with less murder.

14. Erotic Massage

Erotic massage usually involves massaging your partner while naked. Sensual massage oils and lotions add to the mood, with your naughty hands slowly but surely gliding to private areas of the body.

15. Dirty Talk

People love dirty talk – it’s a very common kink. You know what I’m talking about: “Yeah, you like that don’t you” “I’m gonna fuck you so hard” “Yeah I love your dick inside me” You get the picture.

16. Foot Fetish

According to a Men's Health study, 1 in 7 people fantasize about feet in some way. Feet are the most commonly fetishized non-sexual body part, whether you like to sniff them, lick them, suck them, or just look at them.

Film director Quentin Tarantino’s foot fetish is very well known – he often includes lingering shots of women’s feet in his movies. He famously sucked Selma Hayek's toes in From Dusk till Dawn.

17. Watching Porn Together

Watching porn with your partner is pretty kinky, especially if you’re both masturbating or pleasuring each other at the same time.

18. Unusual Sex Positions

Some men and women have kinks for sex positions like the Reverse Cowgirl or the Amazon sex position. Our guide to the best sex pillows should help to make these positions more comfortable.

19. Sex Swing

Sex swings and harnesses are commonly fantasized about. They make sex more comfortable, they give the active partner more power, and they have connotations of submissive/dominant sex.

The Fetish Fantasy 360-Degree Sex Swing is a cheap and versatile sex swing that I’d strongly recommend.

20. Anal Sex

Many have a fetish for anal sex, whether they’re gay, straight, or anything in between. Before attempting anal sex, I’d suggest that you learn how to anal douche and use plenty of longlasting lube.

21. Pegging & Strap-ons

Pegging is a sexual practice where a woman uses a strap-on dildo to anally penetrate her male partner – many see it as a form of gender role reversal. Lesbian women might also enjoy using strap-ons with one another.

22. Sex Toys

Have you tried using sex toys in the bedroom? Many women love using clitoral vibrators like the Lovense Ambi while their partner penetrates them. Bringing sex toys into the bedroom opens up a whole new world of possibilities.

23. Prostate MassageThe prostate is the male G-spot found 2-3 inches inside a man’s rectum. Many men love getting their prostate massaged due to the intense prostate orgasms that can occur. It’s possible for some men to ejaculate hands-free due to prostate stimulation.

You might enjoy our guide to the best prostate massagers.

24. Cum Fetish

Put simply, a cum fetish is a love of cum. You might like ejaculating, covering someone in cum, getting cum on your face, swallowing cum… the list goes on.

25. Crossdressing

Crossdressing (in a sexual context) usually describes a man who derives sexual pleasure from dressing up as a woman. Some also have an attraction towards men (and women) who crossdress.

Here is our list of BDSM kinks which incorporate moderate BDSM:

BDSM, which stands for Bondage, Dominance, Sadism, Masochism. Some also interpret it as standing for Bondage, Discipline, Submission, Masochism. These sex acts usually revolve around the idea of power exchange, where one person (the “top” or “dom”) has dominance over another (the “bottom” or “sub”) in a consensual sexual manner. Acts of BDSM might also involve pain, unusual sensations, and aesthetic turn-ons like leather and latex.

1. Power Exchange

This refers to a dominant-submissive relationship between 2 partners. It might just apply to the bedroom, or it could apply to other areas of your life too. It often includes intensive slave training where the bottom has to obey the top’s commands.

When practicing BDSM, you should always have a “safe word” to indicate that you want to stop. If your mouth is gagged, consider a “safe signal” such as rhythmic grunting or a hand movement.

2. Chastity

Chastity involves locking away a man’s penis or a woman’s vagina with a special chastity device like the Holy Trainer. The chaste person can only orgasm when their master allows them to.

3. Tickle Torture

Combine tickling with bondage and you end up with tickle torture. It’s a fun kinky thing to try as you watch someone laugh and wriggle around helplessly while tied to a bed!

4. Sadomasochism

One of the main tenets of BDSM, sadomasochism refers to enjoying pain being inflicted upon you and/or enjoying pain being inflicted upon others. Pain can be inflicted in many ways, such as pinching, slapping, spanking, whipping, flogging, etc.

The opening scene of Kill Bill famously features a speech about sadism and masochism from the titular character. Obviously, he takes it to the extreme. Don’t go shooting anyone.

5. Latex

Latex fetishists (sometimes called "rubberists") find latex outfits to be sexually arousing, whether they’re wearing latex themselves or observing a partner in latex.

6. Bondage

Whether you’re tied to the bed, put into medieval stocks, or stuck in leather ankle cuffs – restricting someone’s freedom of movement and instilling a sense of helplessness is a very common fetish that many people experiment with.

Bondage experts might want to try the art of Japanese rope bondage. Crystal from Rupaul’s Drag Race UK recently used Japanese rope bondage to create this amazing look.

7. Rough Sex

Slapping, pounding, hair-pulling… rough animalistic sex enhances sexual arousal for lots of people. Just keep it relatively safe!

8. Nipple Clamping

Nipples are powerful erogenous zones for both men and women – nipple clamping is just a more extreme version of nipple stimulation. Nipple suckers are great for amateurs, while Japanese clover clamps are favored by pros.

9. Taboo Roleplay

Are you a POC who enjoys being called racist names in bed? Perhaps you’re a gay man who enjoys being taunted with homophobic slurs? Experimenting with taboos is a fun fetish, just be careful to avoid trauma and triggers.

10. Rape Fantasies

Up to 66% of women have rape fantasies at least occasionally, though fantasies of being raped can be experienced by both men and women. This form of “consensual non-consent” allows you to give permission for a partner to “rape” you at any time under certain conditions, though this kink remains controversial in the fetish community.

11. Sensory Deprivation

Sensory deprivation is all about taking away your senses to heighten sexual arousal – it’s commonly explored with blindfolds and earplugs.

12. Candle Wax Play

Melting hot candle wax onto someone’s body is thrilling, feels interesting, and carries a sense of danger. You’ll often see this in S&M scenes.

I’d recommend a guide on how to do wax play before trying this kink. Not all candles are safe for melting onto the skin!

13. Sensation Play

Sensation play is all about experimenting with different sensations in the bedroom. Common tools for this kink include ice cubes, feather dusters, and claw scratchers.

14. Age Roleplay

Age play is about playing an age different from your own. It’s usually a mixture of older/younger partners.

DDLG (Daddy Dom Little Girl) is a form of age roleplay where women pretend to be submissive little girls and men pretend to be their dominant daddies. The r/ddlg subreddit is great for DDLG fans.

15. Rubber

Rubber fetishists are sexually aroused by wearing/seeing sexy rubber outfits. This often has some crossover with the latex fetish and sometimes the terms are used interchangeably.  

16. Impact Play

Impact play is a common kink where one person hits another for pleasure. This could be in the form of spanking, flogging, whipping, caning, etc.

17. Imprisonment

In a sexual kink context, imprisonment is about being locked up in a cage (or locking someone else up) until a top allows you to be released. Some enjoy a sexual thrill from this loss of control and freedom.

It’s a little pricey, but this Jail Cell Cage from The Stockroom is great for imprisonment.

18. Spanking

Spanking is a form of punishment and sadomasochism that is often incorporated into roleplay and dirty talk scenes. OTK Spanking (over-the-knee spanking) is when the spanker puts the spankee over their knee like a naughty child.

19. Whipping

Whipping is a form of impact play – the sexual arousal comes from the pain, fear, and anticipation of the next strike. Whipping can be very dangerous and only certain "safe zones" on your body can be whipped safely without excess pain or damage. This kink is not for amateurs!

20. Ball Gags

Ball gags reduce someone’s ability to speak and breathe normally. They are usually incorporated into power exchange and bondage scenes. Some men and women also have a kink for gagging on penises, fingers, and other body parts.

21. Leather Kink

Lots of kinksters simply get turned on by wearing and seeing leather! In BDSM stores, you’ll often find leather boots, harnesses, hats, dresses, and more.

Rob Halford, the openly gay vocalist of Heavy Metal band Judas Priest, popularized the leather daddy look in the Heavy Metal community before anyone knew he was gay. They literally had a song called Hell Bent for Leather.

22. Queening

Queening, also known as “facesitting”, is a sexual act whereby a woman sits on a partner’s face while they perform oral sex on her. You can even get BDSM queening chairs designed to make this kink more comfortable.

23. Puppy Play

Common in the LGBTQ+ community, puppy play is when a submissive partner dresses in puppy-like fetish gear, yaps like a dog, and crawls around on all fours at the whim of their human “master”. Pups often wear dog tail buttplugs and leather harnesses.

To me, puppy play combines kinky power exchange with the inherent cuteness of puppies.

24. Electrostimulation

As you may have guessed, electrostimulation is an extreme kink where special electrical equipment is used to zap the body for sexual excitement!

25. Piercing

Piercing is a BDSM fetish where kinksters enjoy being pierced with special hypodermic needles. It’s often combined with bondage, and should only be attempted by experts.

Here is our list of extreme kinks that are not to be taken lightly:

Extreme kinks usually involve an element of danger. Most of these sex acts should be carried out by professional fetishists or very experienced kinky people who take all the necessary safety precautions. Many of these could also be classed as extreme BDSM, and some of them may disturb more sensitive readers.

1. Cock and Ball Torture (CBT)

Cock and ball torture is about torturing a man’s penis and testicles for sexual pleasure. This could involve biting, scratching, clothes-pegging, and a variety of special CBT toys like the spiked crusher. CBT is one of the most common fetishes discussed on forums like FetLife.

Fet Life is a fetish-themed social media site where kinksters can talk about their weirdest fetishes without judgment.

2. Medical Play

Regular doctor-patient roleplays are harmless enough, but more extreme medical play can involve specialized equipment like skin staplers and speculums.

3. Cuckolding

Cuckolding is a type of kink where a man enjoys watching his wife have sex with other men. The man is usually present when his wife is fucking the other man – he might masturbate while watching. Cuckholding porn has become very popular in recent years.

4. Pussy Pumping

Pussy pumps are sexual devices used to pump up a woman’s vagina and/or clitoris, giving her vagina a swollen, engorged look, as well as increasing sensitivity. Many women enjoy the feeling of blood rushing to their pussy, while some find the look of an engorged pussy to be sexy.

5. Penis Pumping

Penis pumps like the Bathmate Hydromax 7 are used to increase the size of a man’s penis over time, but they can also temporarily give the penis an engorged look and increased size. Some people have a fetish for a freshly-pumped penis!

6. Golden Showers

Also known as piss play or watersports, “golden showers” are a fairly common kink where people enjoy urinating on other people or being urinated on themselves. Some people might have someone pee in their mouth and then swallow it, which can carry health risks.

Despite what you might have heard, urine isn't actually sterile. Be safe and sensible when playing with piss.

7. Group Sex

Group sex, swinging, and orgies are a common kink for many people, though you should obviously be careful to practice safe sex with strangers. There are tons of great hookup sites to help you find multiple sexual partners and swingers.

8. Scatophilia

Scatophilia is an extreme fetish for human feces. Scat fans may enjoy many sexual activities involving poop, such as tarmacking.

Scat sex should not be confused with scat singing, which is very, very different.

9. Breath Control

A form of extreme power exchange, breath control involves things such as choking and covering the mouth/nose of a submissive partner to control their breath. Obviously, this fetish is extremely dangerous and should only be practiced by experienced professionals.

10. Exhibitionism

Exhibitionism is enjoying people viewing (or potentially viewing) you having sex or masturbating. It could refer to public sex, having sex in the window, or having sex on live webcam for internet viewers. Exhibitionism is inherently risky, but it’s incredibly thrilling for many fetishists!

11. Blood Play

Blood play is an extreme blood fetish where people may drink or “suck” the blood of others for sexual pleasure. It’s often tied in with vampire roleplay and (safe) biting.

12. Fisting

Fisting is a sexual act where a top inserts their fist (and sometimes their wrist or lower arm) into a bottom’s anus or vagina. Fisting is extremely dangerous and requires serious trust between the two partners. Special equipment like long-lasting fisting cream lube and fisting gloves is essential for this kink.

13. Urethral Sounding

Urethral sounding is a very extreme kink that involves putting sterilized sounds (thin metal rods) down the urethra of a man’s penis or woman’s vagina. If the rod goes far enough, it can directly touch a man’s prostate, creating intense sexual pleasure. Obviously, this is extremely dangerous and requires tons of special preparation from an expert.

"Hegar" urethral sounding rods are the standard tools that are often recommended for urethral sounding. Not to be confused with Sammy Hagar of Van Halen fame.

#glee ds rp #glee smut rp #mature rp #smut rp #sanctuary:starter #reblog: all #reblog: tutor things

[halinski]

Sterek 911 Part 1

So 911 has kinda whisked me away into its world and I am loving it, so here's some firefighter sterek angst inspired by it which hasn't been letting me ressssst for over a week so ( I'm using as a bit of a break from my big fic)

"What's that you're lifting now, huh Derek?" Stiles raises his voice to a shout, throwing his head backward for extra measure. "500? Or was it 450?"

There's nothing but the continuous *clank, clank, clank* of whatever weight instrument Derek is using this time and Stiles shakes his head, returning to the conversation he's having with Erica and Isaac. He grabs another cookie from the table in front of them before he wriggles back into his seat, one leg slung over his left arm rest.

"Never met anyone who spends so much time lifting weights," Stiles grumbles, mouth full of cookie. "I mean, are firefighters or bodybuilders?"

Erica smirks at him, leaning forward on the table to give Stiles a piercing gaze.

"Am I wrong?" Stiles adds, making a dramatic /what/ gesture.

"Sounds a lot like jealousy to me," Erica muttered, putting up an innocent face, all while letting out a chuckle and extending a hand toward Isaac.

"Pay up," she demanded.

Stiles blinked, snorting. "Jealous? Of that dude? No freaking way. He's the biggest grump machine I've ever met. And we all know Finstock. I'd never wanna be him. Not even... For those abs. Or all the glorious abs in the world."

"See what the guy said? No jealousy," Isaac threw in with a smug shrug, leaning back with his tea.

"Not jealous of Derek, smartass. Jealous of the weights... And the time Derek spends with them," Erica stated matter-of-factly, standing up. She patted Isaac on the shoulder, lowering herself briefly to not-whisper, "I'm getting my 20$," before walking away off to who-knows-where, most hopefully not to tell Derek anything about this conversation. Especially not what Stiles looked like right now, mouth hanging open, cookie half-raised, and face more probably than not, flushed red.

"I am not!" He shouted helplessly after Erica before turning narrowed eyes at Isaac. "What kind of bet did you guys make?"

"Oh, uh... What bet?" Isaac's fake laugh wouldn't even have fooled the station cat, much less Stiles with his Sherlock Holmes skills.

"Isa-"

"Gotta go," Isaac interrupted, jumping up and carefully avoiding some tea that spilled over the edge of his mug, "make... uh, make a call. Bye Stiles!"

"Hey!" Stiles slams his cookie down on the table, crumbs spilling in every direction. "You can't escape me! We're all on shift together! And I know where you live!"

Not that that ever stops them. Ah, the shameless ribbing between colleagues. It's one of Stiles' favorite things on the job, definitely his favorite while in the station - besides maybe the food - but it isn't always as great when you're the receiving end of it. Thankfully, Stiles can give as good as he gets.

He glares at the cookie, like it's its fault that Stiles is ever so open with his emotions, and they can all see through his little crush. Who can blame him? While Derek is a little raw around the edges, and distanced and harsh and cold in their spare time, he is a hero on the field. There's not a single thing he's afraid of, he doesn't mind getting down and dirty and close up, and he's risked his life more than once. He's completely invested. And he's good looking too. Also, there are those abs. Best ones of the whole team.

Stiles is... Somehow the exact opposite, besides the part where he is willing to do everything and anything to save some lives. Which is proven by the fact that Stiles is sitting here eating cookies while Derek is working out. Stiles scowls.

That doesn't stop him from grabbing the last big remaining piece, and popping it into his mouth. Then he gets up and wipes the table down before heading to his locker. At some point in the process he dropped a chocolate chip on his shirt and needs to change it.

Of course, who would happen to be in the locker room as well, but the one and only Derek Hale. That's just Stiles' luck. Stiles sighs and pulls his shoulders back, chin up and keeps walking. Derek can't have the upper hand just because he's older and stronger and more good-looking. Stiles has been here longer. So Stiles doesn't let himself be deterred as he strides to his locker and searches for a clean shirt.

"Stilinski," Derek's voice suddenly rings out, closer to Stiles than expected.

Stiles absolutely does not jump, biting the curse from his lips and turning his head to meet the other male's gaze. There are no thoughts about his sweaty hair or that subtle smirk, or about how Derek is approaching him, which he never did with anyone else. None at all.

"Hale," he quips back.

"If you count my morning and evening workout, I think 500 cuts it," Derek mused. "Just thought you'd like to know."

Is that a smile? Stiles is totally counting that as a smile.

"Why... why would I possibly want to know that?" He replies, tongue feeling almost numb in his mouth.

"Oh, I heard," Derek shrugs and then turns to head for the showers, a change of clothes in hand.

Stiles' hand tightens on his locker door, heart pounding higher and higher. "What exactly did you hear?"

"Everything." And with that he disappears around the corner.

Stiles is left standing alone once again, teased and prodded at, and he lets out a groan, burrowing his head in his locker. He stays like that. Just for a bit. He has to make sure he's out of there before Derek comes out of the shower after all.

Since everyone has decided it's pick-on-Stiles-day, Stiles figures he'll have more fun tending to some equipment until they wait for their next call. It's been quite the quiet day and he probably shouldn't be talking too soon but--

Stiles shoots up as he hears a throat being cleared. It's not a familiar throat clearing, instead there is a sniffle attached to the sound and Stiles quickly steps around the end of the fire truck. A woman, probably only a few years older than him has stopped a few feet away from the open garage, looking far too timid for her strong stance. Tears have run in tracks down her cheeks, eyes red, and Stiles thinks she might be trembling.

"Miss! Are you okay?" Stiles rushes over, holding a hand out to secure her if she needs it, but not touching her without her permission, eyes darting and waiting for her response.

Her grey-ish gaze meets his face, but quickly leaves, returns back to the station, as her grip readjusts on the strap of her bag. "I'm okay," she says, voice breaking, so she clears her throat and repeats it.

She takes out a tissue, which had been on the ready, and dabs her eyes, lifting her chin defiantly again.

"Are you sure? Did anything happen?" Stiles presses regardlessly. Sometimes people get a little scrambled in the face of accidents or emergencies. He's seen a lot of things throughout his life, with a father as the town sheriff and his training here.

The woman shakes her head, still absent. She doesn't find what she's looking for in the station so she finally looks back to Stiles.

Her voice is firm this time, as she asks,"My name is Laura Hale. I'm looking for... a Derek Hale. Is he here?"

Stiles can only nod at first, a rigidness filling his limbs while an ice pick went through his heart. Derek never shares any personal information with the squad. Only figures a man like him has a beautiful wife at home.

Then Stiles feels like kicking himself. Something obviously happened here or this gorgeous woman wouldn't be here crying. Was it about a kid? Does Derek have a kid? But why didn't she call? What if it was too serious for a call? But also, are either of them wearing a ring? Maybe Derek takes his off while at the station so it doesn't get damaged or become a hindrance while on scene...

Stiles shakes himself.

"Yes!" He exclaims, obviously too loudly, as Laura winces. He tones it down. "Yeah, I- he's inside... Come on."

He leads Laura right up to the locker rooms with a steel resolve, until she's not allowed further and bids her to wait while he fetches Derek. With sweaty palms, he knocks on the communal bathroom door before sticking his head in and stubbornly staring at the cluster of tiles in the corner - the ones that may or may not be a shade more turquoise than the rest of the showers.

"Derek. Someone's here for you," he says, noting that there's no more sound of a spraying shower. He clutches the doorway as he waits, counting, until Derek appears in his sight. He's got a towel on his head, rubbing at his damp hair, and is otherwise in further advanced post-shower state, aka fully clothed. Thank goodness.

"What?" Derek asks confused, walking up.

There's really no clearer way to say what Stiles just said but he repeats it anyway as he steps back into the locker room, with Derek in tow. He could spot Laura through the open doorway on the other side and sent her a smile, even though he is obviously invisible in this situation.

"Someone came in looking for you. A-"

"Laura..." Stiles hears the soft exhale behind him and can't help but glance back to torture himself with the tender gaze Derek gives his wife - except... He's met with the most terrifying expression he's ever seen on Derek's face. An expression of absolute vulnerability, that's an even bigger punch to Stiles' gut, than the thought of him having a wife, because all Stiles wants to do is curl around and protect him.

Before Stiles can process another thought, Derek's towel has hit the floor, and Derek himself was back in the shower - as if he vanished in thin air. Stiles has never seen him move so fast.

"Derek! Wait!" Laura calls out and Stiles blinks, his body finally kicking back into action. Luckily when he looks over, he sees Boyd and the rest of the crew at Laura's side, hindering her from proceeding after Derek.

Stiles wastes no more time, and hurries after Derek. He has no clue whatsoever about what could be going on here, and what's more, he doesn't spot Derek at first either. For a split second he considers Derek's ability to teleport, before the heavy, frantic breath reaches his ears.

He finds the man curled up in one of the shower stalls, back pressed against the wall, eye closed, struggling for breath. Panic attack. Finally, a thing Stiles knows something about.

"Hey, buddy. I'm right here," he announces as he shifts closer to crouch at Derek's side. "You're alright."

Derek shakes his head, jaw clenching, teeth bared. Like an animal in a trap.

"I'm going to help you through this, Derek. Do you want to give me your hand?" Stiles asks, professional, calm demeanor immediately on hand even though he feels anything but. Seeing someone as tough as Derek break like this, it's unsettling to say the least.

Derek shakes his head more furiously, a rasped breath akin to a growl ripping through the air. Then he presses clenched fists, white-knuckled, to his eyes.

"Okay, alright. No worries," Stiles says, holding up his hands in peace and scooting back. "But you're not getting rid of me that easily. I'm like an annoying tick."

Stiles settles down more comfortably, eyeing Derek carefully.

"Okay, now. I just want you to breathe with me. You know the drill big guy. 4 in, let's go. In: 1...2...3...4... And now, hold! You know this one. 2...3....4..."

He coaches him down enough for Derek's tight grip to loosen, though he sinks further in on himself, hands weaving through his hair, as if cradling his own head in his elbows.

"Go away," Derek pushes out.

Stiles ignores it. "I'm not leaving you here alone to pass out, man. Just keep on breathing. You're almost out there."

Another growl-like sound escapes Derek. A grumble maybe, Stiles figures.

"Her," Derek says then, with more emotion in his voice, than Stiles has

ever conceived possibly. Pain.

Her... Her what? Her, as in Laura. Probably. But her--

"Go away." And Derek shudders as if that cost him his last strength.

"Oh! Yes. Alright," Stiles nods, hoistng himself to his feet. "I got you, buddy. Just you wait, and keep breathing. Do you go anywhere."

Stiles hurries to pass on the message to the other's outside, only taking enough time to assure everyone that everything is fine.

Or well, it will be. One way or another. Maybe for a while you're not fine. But everything has it's course. It will be fine in the end.

By the time Stiles arrives back at Derek's side, Derek has unraveled. He is still slumped in the shower stall, energy most probably drained, but to Stiles' relief the worst seems over. Derek is breathing normally again.

Stiles smiles slightly, seating himself again.

"See, it's all gonna be alright. You have nothing to worry about."

Derek doesn't even look at him.

"What does she want?" His tone would have been biting if there weren't so much exhaustion coating it.

"Um... I'm not really sure, to be honest. But I think... She probably just wants to talk?" Stiles guesses, grasping into the blue, as he scratches the back of his neck. He wanted to get closer to Derek but he technically doesn't want to be in the midst of a marital dispute.

"After two year?" Derek grunts, exasperation bleeding into his voice.

"Well," Stiles sputtered, "some things just... Take time. Don't worry. Everything can be handled. Just- easy. Keep breathing for me, will you? And in time-"

Derek laughs humorlessly, cutting Stiles short, only sadness when he asks, "Do you really think any amount of time can make up for me causing our whole family's death?"

And then he looks up, into Stiles' shell-shocked face, and gaping mouth, and the hand that he needs to use to steady himself with against the wall, and Derek stares him down, daring him to leave, to leap, run as far away from him as he can.

#written in like an hour and unedited #so tada bitches #it's a wip i guess #eternalsterek #sterek #911 au #sterek 911 #ficlet #fanfic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #i wrote this

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (6)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

Warning(s): some angst, some emotional and mental turmoil… some bad language words… much fluff

Chapter Summary: A successful mission means... revels! 

“You’re lucky Helen was here,” she snaps at Tony as he enters the med room. He hands a green drink to Clint, who’s still lying back on the table as the portable regeneration device heals his torso.

“I’m lucky?” he says, grinning at her.

She turns on a heel and stares him down, thrusts a pointed finger in his face. “I told you when you first assigned me here, I am not a clinician.”

“You’re doing great,” Clint tells her, the pain meds making his voice just a little lighter and a little more enthusiastic than normal.

She gives him an incredulous look. “If Dr. Cho hadn’t been here to demo this… this… thing,” she says, waving her arms to indicate the contraption in the center of the room, “you’d be dead.”

“Was that a threat?” Tony asks, clearly amused by her anger.

“I’d have been fine,” Clint says as he sucks down his juice. “You’d have saved me just like you did before.”

She closes her eyes and tries for a deep, cleansing breath, which is surprisingly easy to do now that her nose is completely healed – thank you Helen for demonstrating the device’s effectiveness on me. “You would have needed surgery. I am not a surgeon.”

“You dug that bullet outta me just fine,” he says, referring to their adventures in Minsk a few years earlier.

“I dumped some vodka on your arm and dug around with my fingers until you passed out from the pain.”

“But eventually, you got the bullet out and I was saved.”

“There,” Tony chimes in. “See? You’re a hero. The greatest doctor we could ask for.” Dr. Cho enters the room and quietly slides over to Clint to check her machine’s progress. “And now that we have this fancy-shamncy… thing, you don’t have to worry about doing surgery. Or not doing surgery.”

“This is still a prototype,” Helen tells him softly. “We know that cellular regeneration is possible with the cradle, but how much… how far this technology can go, we don’t know the answers to that yet.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now that we’re working with U-Gin and we’ve got two of the greatest minds on this,” he says, waving his hand to indicate both Helen and Tessa, “it’s only a matter of time before we revolutionize the medical field.”

“It scares me when you get like this,” Tessa mumbles.

“We’ll have one in every trauma center by 2020.”

Helen raises a single brow as she continues to evaluate Clint’s vitals. “That’s ambitious.”

Tony’s face splits into a wide grin. “That’s my middle name.”

“Really?” Clint asks, his face wrinkled in confusion. “I always thought it was Gary.”

“What?” Tony turns on him as Tessa snorts out a laugh. “Edward. Why would you think it’s Gary.”

He shrugs as best he can in his current position. “You look like a Gary.”

“Wait… so it’s not Ambitious?” Tessa asks with furrowed brow. “You’re middle name is Edward? How boring.”

Clint slurps down the rest of his drink. “Gary would have been better,” he mutters absently.

“Right,” Tony starts, thrusting himself upright. “I hate all of you. Also, we’re setting up for a party tomorrow.” He turns to leave, calling out as he goes, “You all will be there.”

000

Tony’s parties were, simply put, the best. Even the business affairs – the parties that required mingling with rich old men and straddling the line between bragging about scientific breakthroughs and giving away detailed research data – were designed to be fun. The drinks were always plentiful, the food exceptional, the decorations impeccable, and the guests companionable. There were many things that Tony Stark was great at, but in Tessa’s estimation, throwing together last-minute celebrations was his greatest strength.

“Really?” Bucky sits idly on her bed as she explains this to him, her back turned as she rifles through her closet.

“Yes, really.” She reaches in the back and pulls out a deep burgundy cocktail dress with thick straps and a triangular cutout in the back. “You’ll have fun. I promise,” she tells him, spinning herself around and holding the dress up for him to see.

He raises his eyebrows appraisingly, but seems less than impressed. Or convinced. She moans and thrusts the dress back into the closet. “I just don’t like being around a lot of people,” he tells her shyly.

“It’s not people,” she explains. “It’s me. And Steve. And –”

“Everyone else, plus some.”

“I don’t want to sound like an asshole here…” She turns to face him, two more garments now draped over her arm. “But, get over it.”

“Get over it?”

“Yes. Get over it.” She flings the dresses onto the bed next to him and he has dodge the wooden hangers as they narrowly miss his face. She marches over, rather dramatically, and stands in front of him with her hands on her hips. “I didn’t want to go to Mexico. But I did. I didn’t want to take a day trip to Coney Island in the middle of January. But I did. I didn’t want to do that thing last week. But I did.”

He reaches up and slips his fingers beneath hers on either hip. “I thought you liked that thing,” he says with a mischievous grin.

She rolls her eyes and, bringing her hands to his shoulders, gives him a rough, playful shake. “That isn’t the point!”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, laughing as he pulls her to him. He wraps his arms around her middle and rests the side of his face against her ribs. “I’ll go,” he mumbles into her shirt.

Her hands are still resting on his shoulders when she says simply, “Thank you.” She tries to push him away then, but he doesn’t let go, too content in holding her close and listening to the steady beat of her heart. “James,” she tries, when he refuses to loosen his grip. She digs her thumbs into his shoulders and tries again to push him away, wiggling her hips as she moves. “Jamie,” she whines, smile perking the corners of her lips.

“No,” he says, petulant quality to his voice.

“Uuuugh,” she sighs, dropping her hands and stopping her struggle. Then, with a chuckle, “You’re impossible.”

He tightens his grip for just a moment more before twisting his face so that he’s looking up at her. “If I don’t have fun, I’m bringing you right back here. And we’re doing that thing again.”

She presents her right hand to him, ready for a handshake. “Deal.” He drops his arms from her middle, shakes her hand firmly, and lets her escape back to the closet. “Now go ask Steve if you can borrow something pretty to wear.”

By the time Steve finally convinces him to wear the red button down instead of an old – and torn – sweater, and they make it upstairs, the revels are in full swing. He sees her immediately, but doesn’t chase her down just yet. Instead he takes the beer Steve offers and half-heartedly listens to the rest of his friend’s story as he watches her from afar.

She’s talking and laughing with Natasha and Bruce, though Bruce doesn’t look like he’s having much fun. The man is bright red and ducking his face in obvious embarrassment as Tessa gets more animated. Whatever story she’s telling the pair is greatly amusing the Widow. Not so much the doctor.

Bucky leans against the wall, continuing to gaze across the room. Tessa’s wearing a tight black pencil dress that traces the lines of her body – from her knees up to the gentle cure of her hips, up alongside her ribcage. From his vantage point, he can see the shimmer of the gold zipper that runs from the base of her back to the base of her neck. And he’s desperate to yank it down and peel the fabric back.

“Buck?” he hears Steve say. Swiveling back to his friend, he raises a questioning eyebrow. “Are you listening?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head and taking a long pull from his beer.

Sam snickers next to them. “At least he’s honest.”

“I was telling you about the mission,” Steve complains.

“Yeah, but we weren’t there, so we don’t care,” Sam responds.

Bucky gives him a tired look – “I didn’t say that” – then turns to Steve. “He doesn’t speak for me.”

“Okay, well –” he says, trying to continue with his story.

“Actually, now I am saying it,” he tells him, raising a single, silencing hand. “I don’t care.” He pats his forlorn friend on the shoulder and makes a beeline for his girl.

He tries to skirt past Stark and Thor as he approaches the bar, but Maria Hill stops him before he can reach the other side where Tessa’s standing. “Sargent,” she nearly exclaims. “You’re actually at a party. And all cleaned up.”

She sounds impressed, but Stark is less than enthused when he mumbles something akin to, “That’s cleaned up?”

“I was just telling them a War Machine story,” Rhodes chimes in, obviously eager to try the tale out on someone new.

“Where’s Tessa?” Maria interrupts before he can get started.

Bucky’s about to point across the bar at her and then politely excuse himself, but – “Yeah, and Pepper,” Rhodes says, “She’s a no show?”

“And Jane? Where are the ladies, gentlemen?”

Stark and Thor make excuses for the absences, bragging openly about their better halves, while Bucky attempts to back up and move around the group unseen. But there are too damn many people at this party and he’s penned in. As he turns to the other side in search of an escape route he hears Hill cough out what sounds like “Testosterone.” When he looks back, she and Rhodes are eyeballing an opening in the crowd, hoping to sneak off as well.

“But Jane’s better,” Thor leans in and tells Tony.

Which prompts Maria to turn to him. “What about you, Sarge? You want in on this?”

He gives her a quick look, then turns his gaze to Tessa, who appears to be moving off into the crowd. “Sure.” He clears his throat, finishes his beer, and sets the empty bottle on the bar. “My girl’s a brilliant geneticist and the lead physician for Earth’s mightiest heroes. She’s beautiful and talented, smart and funny. And she can deflect bullets.”

“Wait, what?” Rhodes chokes out as Bucky finally finds an opening and steps out into it.

“And she’s actually here,” he tosses over his shoulder. “So I win.”

Thor grins as he walks off. “I like him,” he says with a small chuckle. “He’s spirited.”

“Like a horse you need to break,” Tony mumbles.

He dodges through the crown, issuing mumbled apologies to those he bumps as he goes. “Tess,” he says, reaching for her arm as she’s about to head downstairs. “Hey.”

She turns to face him, nearly tumbling backwards down the steps when someone accidently nudges her as she spins. He wraps his fingers tightly around her upper arm to steady her, and almost immediately winces, realizing he’s grabbed her too tight. He tugs her to him and drops his hand, watches as she brings her fingers up to absently rub the red marks he’s left. “I was wondering when you’d get here,” she says with a smile.

“Sorry.” He mumbles the word as he leads her off to a corner, then he gingerly touches her arm to inspect the blossoming bruises. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re really fucking late.” She glances down to her arm, then up at his worried face. “Oh… about keeping me from falling down the stairs?” She lets out a snort of a laugh. “Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout it.” And she brushes his fingers away.

He takes in a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’m late too.”

She’s still all smiles when he looks up at her and it makes his heart catch a bit in his chest. “I was talking to Helen earlier,” she starts, eagerly. “You would not believe the kinds of things they’re doing at U-Gen. She invited me out to tour the facilities and spend a few days getting to know the staff and actually work in her lab.” Her eyes light up like a toddler at Christmas and her voice rises in pitch as she continues. “I mean, I thought Tony was just looking into a new investment idea, like he always does. But this is… Well, look at my nose!” She pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and works it around. “Doesn’t hurt at all! And no scarring!”

“Yeah,” he says with amusement. “I can see that.” He’s glad she’s excited, but the level of excitement seems a little crazed, especially considering that they’ve already spent most of the last two days talking about Dr. Cho’s research and advances.

“And Clint. Did you see Clint?!” She twists around to try and find the archer in the crowd. Her balance is shot almost immediately, and she throws a steadying hand out to his chest.

He catches it and laughs as he steadies her. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Psht, like two glasses of wine,” she tells him, turning back to face him. “Or three. With Nat while we got ready.” She furrows her brow. “Maybe four. I don’t know.”

He looks down at the drink in her hand. “And once you got here?”

“A few of these,” she says, bringing the martini glass to her mouth. “Just a few.”

“Just a few,” he repeats, shaking his head.

“Ah ha!” Tony calls out as he saunters over to the couple. “Found your girl, I see.” He turns to Bucky and in a low tone says, “She’s been blitzed for about an hour. Had to cut her off.” Looking at back at Tessa and at the drink in her hand, he asks, “How’d you get that?”

“Natasha,” she says, hint of challenge to her voice.

He hums in disapproval. “Well, guess that’s what you get for being late to the party.” He drops his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, causing the smile to completely disappear from the soldier’s face. “She’s gonna start puking in, oh, about 30 minutes.”

They turn their faces to Tessa in unison, watch as she downs the rest of her drink. “Probably,” she mutters.

Tony smiles, wide and wily. “Still think you win?”

It’s more like fifteen minutes before she barrels into the hall bath and blows chow all over the sink. Bucky flinches at the scene, but steps forward and holds her hair back all the same. At least he got her back to her apartment. When she finishes, he lets her hair down and she leans against the wall and slowly slides to the floor. “That was disgusting,” he tells her as he turns on the water and starts to clean the sink.

“Sorry,” she mumbles softly.

He raises the lid and the seat on the toilet and points at it. “Aim there,” he tells her before heading into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

He hands her the bottle when he returns but she refuses it. “Boot and rally,” she tells him tiredly. “I learned that in college.”

“Out of curiosity, is this the fun that you promised me tonight?”

She lets out a pained laugh. “You were late. If you’d been there sooner, you would’ve had fun.”

“I can’t get drunk, doll,” he tells her, taking a seat on the cold tile across from her. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Shame,” she intones, slipping off a single high heel and slowly moving her foot into his lap. She traces the inseam of his pants with her toe. “You wore real pants,” she observes. “Not just jeans.”

“You told me to put on something pretty.”

“Ha!” She throws her head back to laugh, banging it on the wall.

“Baby,” he sniggers, moving over to her side and cupping the back of her head. “You’re a danger to yourself.”

She looks up at him, eyes red rimmed and glassy. Her face is flushed and the goofy smile she’s wearing makes it’s hard for him to suppress the laughter that he’s trying to stave off. “I like you,” she says dreamily.

“I like you too. Even if you smell like vomit.”

She purses her lips and takes on a more serious countenance. “I’m going to throw up one more time,” she tells him. “But then I’ll be good. And I’ll let you do that thing.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” he says. “But I think you should go to bed.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” she teases.

“No,” he says with a laugh. “You throw up again if you need to. Drink this water. And then I’m putting you to bed. To sleep.”

She looks at him very seriously for a long moment before bringing her hand to his face, gently stroking his stubble-covered jaw. She tucks a few errant strands of dark hair back behind his ear and gives him a small, tender smile. Then she launches herself at the toilet and violently empties her stomach.

It may not seem like the best end to an evening, but they’re the only people in the building who spend that night in bed, sleeping peacefully while the building shakes and shatters around them.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x oc #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #marvel fanfic #marvelau #bucky imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengersau #Supernova

[witharsenicsauce]

Chosen Stories From the War #17: Saving Colonel Zhang

(Content Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of gore.)

Tygan pressed a few random keys on his tablet as he looked over Yseult, the war hammer. The weapon glowed purple, pulsating ever so slightly in the darkness of the workshop. The three Chosen stood around it, leaning in closer as they watched Tygan work. He had called them here, after all.

“So.” He said, for the third time, and once again followed it with silence. The Darkstrider was poking around at some of the other machines while his siblings waited for Tygan to finish his thought, like the diligent little servants they were.

Finally, Tygan looked up. “Kon-Mai, this hammer seems to be made of a similar material to your sword.”

“Is it?” She raised a brow.

“Yes, and I was hoping you could give us some insight on the material process, to be frank. We still don’t even have a clue to understanding how your weapon works.”

Kon-Mai tucked a stray strand of hair back behind her tiny ear. “I do not know much, only that it is an ancient art, and involves the torture of living individuals, for the use of their bones to-”

“Thank you, Sister.” Dhar-Mon said, turning seemingly aqua-green. “That will be all.”

Gur-Rai chuckled at his reaction. “I suppose science isn’t always worth it, is it, Brother?”

“Well, perhaps if Vahlen were here...” Tygan muttered as he looked to Dhar-Mon, who was still focused on the hammer. “You said you wielded it in combat?”

“I did.” He hung his head in shame. “I deeply apologize if I have damaged your research, Doctor.”

“On the contrary.” Tygan pushed it toward him. “I’d like you to keep using it.”

Dhar-Mon looked puzzled.

“I would like more information on how the Elders’ weapons interact with their owners.” Tygan elaborated. “And you seem to be...attached. I hypothesize these weapons may ‘choose’ their owners, allowing them to utilize them to their full potential. Like Kon-Mai, and her sword that never misses.”

“That is a theory.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “Does it work with guns, too?”

“That, I don’t know.” Tygan broke off as the intercom screeched.

“Dhar-Mon Madron, Gur-Rai Madron, and Kon-Mai Mordenna, please report to the Commander’s Office. Dhar-Mon Madron, Gur-Rai Madron, and Kon-Mai Mordenna, please report to the Commander’s Office.”

“It seems we are summoned.” Dhar-Mon sighed, lifting Yseult and hoisting it onto his back, where the magnetic straps clicked and held it in place. It felt light as a feather on his shoulders.

Kon-Mai bowed to Tygan and turned, leading her brothers toward their Commander. They followed her in a line, Gur-Rai in the middle and Dhar-Mon bringing up the rear, like a mother duck and her ducklings.

Kon-Mai chuckled at the thought.

.

.

“Well, the gang’s all here.” Bradford tossed his clipboard onto Senuna’s bed as the Chosen entered the room.

“Shrinemaiden, Darkstrider…” He nodded to Dhar-Mon. “...Hieromonk.”

“Central.” Kon-Mai bowed to him.

Senuna stood up. She looked a bit worse for wear, like she hadn’t slept at all the previous night. “Remember when I said I would be sending you all out together soon?”

Gur-Rai grinned. “We’re gettin’ the band back together?” He plopped down on one of her couches, far off to the side, and put his feet up. “Hit me, Commander. What have you got?”

“Have you three ever heard of Shaojie Zhang?” Bradford asked as the Commander sat down across from the Chosen, rubbing some of the smudged eyeliner off her eye.

Both Dhar-Mon and Kon-Mai hesitated for a moment, but Gur-Rai jumped in immediately. “Ol’ Chilong? A naughty little Triad spy who defected to XCOM.” He nodded. “I’ve heard. What of him?”

“He’s alive.” Senuna seemed to almost sigh, but her voice trembled.

“We THINK he’s alive.” Jane clarified. “Our recent conversation with Nuwa Shen revealed that there is, in fact, a hidden ADVENT prison complex in the Khasi Hills of India. And she apparently has it on good authority that Shaojie Zhang is being held inside.”

Gur-Rai blinked for a moment, his eyes becoming unfocused. “...Never heard of that place...huh. Must be new…”

“Perhaps it is.” Kon-Mai assured him. “The Crimson Dragon is known to be very dangerous. ADVENT would want him under wraps.”

“Yeah.” Bradford said. “So that’s why we called you three...this operation is going to be dangerous.”

“Very dangerous.” There was a glimmer in Senuna’s eye. “Which is why you three are going down together~”

Gur-Rai let out a cheer and even Dhar-Mon seemed to look a bit happier. Kon-Mai chuckled at her older brother’s reaction.

“Look out ADVENT.” Gur-Rai said as he stood. “The boys—and girl—are back in town!”

.

.

“Well, Dhar-Mon, you’ll get to test out your new weapon sooner than you thought.” Gur-Rai noted as he strapped on his armor plates.

Dhar-Mon nodded silently, only barely acknowledging his brother, who then tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “What’s going on with you, Brother? You’re acting like Kon-Mai.”

“I heard that.” His sister hissed.

“I am fine, Brother.” Dhar-Mon assured him. “I simply...don’t have much to say anymore.”

“Alright, that’s DEFINITELY unlike you.”

“It is unlike how I was.” Dhar-Mon mused, pulling on the sleeves of his robes. “Before, I could not take a breath, lest I be praising the Elders.” He almost spat their name. “Now released from their hold, I find I have little to say.”

“Well, what’s on your mind?” Gur-Rai asked. “We could talk about that.”

“Indeed.” Kon-Mai said as she began plaiting her hair into several small braids. It had gotten longer in the weeks she’d been there, and now reached her upper back. “It is imperative we grow to trust each other as family, in battle and in conversation.”

“I’ll start!” Gur-Rai cried. “I found this amazing new book called ‘Blue Jesus.’ Picked it up because, well, we’re blue, so the title caught my eye.”

“Blue Jesus…” Dhar-Mon had heard that name, Jesus. It was spoken in whispers, by worshipers of the dead god. It was a name considered sacrilege by the Elders. Those who spoke it often died with the name on their lips.

“What is it about?” Kon-Mai asked. “I have been looking for new reading material. All of my favorite books were left behind at my stronghold.”

“So this kid, named Buddy, is friends with a kid whose skin is entirely blue. His name is Early.”

“Those are unusual names.” Dhar-Mon interjected.

“I do not think we have the right to criticize.” Kon-Mai chuckled. “Continue, Gur-Rai.”

“So, one day Buddy and Early are down at the river, doing the kind of stuff little boys do. And they find a dead baby.”

Kon-Mai made a face, a mix of terror, disgust, and almost crushing sadness. Dhar-Mon saw it before she could right herself, and she looked like Gur-Rai had just told her her own child was found dead.

“Hold your horses, Sister.” Gur-Rai raised his hand. “Because while Buddy runs to get help, Early touches the baby and brings it back to life.”

Now both Dhar-Mon and Kon-Mai looked at their brother in wonder.

“Back to life…?” Kon-Mai muttered.

Gur-Rai nodded.  “Mind you, before this everybody hated Early and his family, because they were blue and that’s very strange for humans. But after Early brings the baby back, people change their tune very quickly. Some of them are nice to him all of a sudden. Some people treat him even worse.” His eyes narrowed. “Some people think he’s-”

“Jesus.” Dhar-Mon muttered.

“Yep. Anyway, I’m about halfway through and it’s a fantastic read.” He finished his sentence just as two other humans walked in and stopped, staring at them.

The three siblings turned and looked at the soldiers, one dressed in the blue and white uniform of a medical officer, and the other dressed in light armor and holding a hacking kit. They halted when they saw the three Chosen, and the medic seemed to groan.

“Well, the gang’s all here~” Gur-Rai smiled and crossed his arms. “I assume you two are coming along for the ride.”

The medic, a young girl with brown hair in two, Mickey-Mouse like buns, looked at the man to her right. He coughed, straightening up as if he could compare to the height of the Chosen.

“Shamil Naumov.” He said, pressing his hand to his chest to indicate that the name was indeed his own. “The Commander said you’d probably need a hacker, so...that’s me.”

Gur-Rai scoffed. “I doubt that. I can do your job in half the time it takes you.”

“Yes, Brother, but won’t you also be busy with your gun? Shooting down our enemies?” Kon-Mai gave him a look. “An extra set of hands may be useful.”

“Well, if the Commander insists.” He shrugged and looked towards the girl. “And what’s your name, beautiful?”

“...Vicky.” She said curtly.

Kon-Mai recognized that name. “Are you a friend to Malinalli?”

“Friend?” Vicky grimaced, then bobbed her head from side to side. “...I guess.”

“Do you guys know the objective?” Shamil began looking through his data pad.

“We are to rescue Shaojie Zhang.” Dhar-Mon said with conviction.

“Right. This is supposed to be stealthy but…” He eyed Dhar-Mon. “If things go south, don’t be afraid to make some noise.”

“Oh, we shall.” Kon-Mai smiled, bearing her sharp teeth. Vicky seemed to shudder.

“Okay.” Shamil perked up. “All aboard the Skyranger then.”

.

.

The Skyranger seemed to shudder as it drew closer to the sea of black trees. The sky had grown dark and cloudy, and there settled over the ship an air of foreboding.

The Shinemaiden huddled herself in the corner of the Skyranger, leaving space for the rest of her compatriots. Even so, three Chosen all crammed into a canteen was beginning to cause some claustrophobia. Dhar-Mon was running into the same problem as last time, and desperately wished he still had the ability to teleport.

“Are we there yet?” Gur-Rai called up to Firebrand.

“Ask me one more time and I’mma turn this cab right around!” Firebrand called back to him. Kon-Mai chuckled at her brother getting scolded, and Gur-Rai stuck out his tongue at her.

The plane dropped low over a dense area of wood and opened her doors. Gur-Rai got to his feet and looked out. “Tricky landing!”

“Be careful goin’ down!” Firebrand called.

Kon-Mai looked to Dhar-Mon, preparing to offer him a hand, but he smiled and shook his head to indicate he would be fine. She nodded to him and took a rope from Gur-Rai, skydiving backwards off the ship and swinging, Tarzan-style, into a nearby tree.

“Showoff.” Gur-Rai muttered as he slid down after her, Dhar-Mon following behind him. Their two human compatriots dropped to the ground behind them.

“What do you see, Sister?” Gur-Rai asked.

“To the north.” Kon-Mai said, her already raspy voice further distorted by their communicators. “The building is small. One story only. Pure white, yet the windows are black.”

“Any enemies?”

“The usual cannon fodder.” She chuckled. “...And that is all...strange...”

Dhar-Mon and Gur-Rai looked at each other. “This seems to be a trap.” Dhar-Mon said.

“Oh it probably is.” Gur-Rai smiled. “I’m counting on it. Kon-Mai?”

“Yes?” She drawled her voice a bit with the question.

“Take the east side.” Gur-Rai said. “And I’ll take the west. Dhar-Mon,” He turned to his brother “remember what you did at the UFO? Do that again.”

Dhar-Mon nodded. “These traitors shall feel the wrath of my power.”

Gur-Rai smiled. “Now THERE’S my big brother.” He patted him on the shoulder and leapt into a tree. “You two.” He called to the humans. “Stay behind Dhar-Mon.”

“We can fight too!” Vicky hissed.

“I do not doubt that.” Dhar-Mon annunciated as turned to her, staring down at her short stature. “But your kind are very…” He fumbled for the word.

“Squishy.” Gur-Rai cut in.

“Yes.” Dhar-Mon nodded. “In any case, I shall protect you.”

“I mean…” Shamil shrugged and chuckled. “I won’t argue with the guy holding the big whacky stick.”

Dhar-Mon scowled and turned toward the facility, keeping low as he led them forward. He could hear his brother and sister in the trees, moving from branch to branch. Only trained ears could detect such slight sounds. Those two were as quiet as the grave.

He stopped as he reached the treeline, holding his breath. “We are in position.” He whispered.

“Perfect~” He heard Gur-Rai chuckle. “Sister?”

“I am ready.” He heard the quiet shing of her blade.

There was a moment of silence. They all held their breath...

“Now!”

On his brother���s signal, Dhar-Mon stood, raising his hands, and a bolt of psionic energy crackled toward the soldiers, striking them each in a succinct line. One by one they fell. Those who did not fall turned on them with guns drawn, right as Dhar-Mon saw a flash of blue dart out from the trees. Then, the screaming began.

His sister’s blade flashed in the pale moonlight as she cut through the trooper closest to her, their body separating at the waist and flying in different directions. The other soldiers turned on her, guns drawn and ready to fire, and she smiled.

“Hello, boys.” She growled. “Is that any way to greet me?”

A flash of red, this time from the treeline, sent another trooper flying. Gur-Rai cackled as he watched their body ragdoll.

There were about seven soldiers left, and while they seemed to be realizing the hopeless position they were in, they were not backing down. As Kon-Mai shifted to move for cover, one of them fired on her. The bullet bounced off her armor, smacking her in the ribcage. She muttered a grunt as it struck her. It stung badly against her skin, but there was no tear in the fabric, and no wound in her flesh.

“Insolent fool!” Dhar-Mon bellowed, raising his arms as his palms began to glow. “How dare you strike her?!”

“I think they know we’re off payroll!” Gur-Rai said, just as a rain of bullets shredded the branch he was standing on. He leapt to another tree as that one disintegrated.

The bullet rain began, and both Shamil and Vicky dove behind trees for cover. Dhar-Mon also got low, sheltering behind the shrubbery. He felt a few hit his shoulder pauldron, but none broke the surface. Yet.

The firing began to die down as the troopers ran out of ammo, and Kon-Mai took her shot. She dashed out from behind the crate and plunged her sword through the back of her unsuspecting victim, then hoisted him up and catapulted his body into one of his comrades, knocking the other to the ground. 

She smiled, but only briefly, because she was now out in the open, all guns trained on her. One particularly fast one turned on her and fired. It would have hit her in the face had she not raised her arm to deflect it. Her sword arm. The mesh deflected the bullet, but her arm went numb with the shock and she cried out, dropping her sword.

“NO!” Dhar-Mon sprang up and, ripping Yseult from his back, charged at his sister’s assailant. The hit was slow, and the trooper began to move to dodge, but as he did the hammer itself seemed to move on it’s own, correcting it’s course automatically so it plowed into the trooper’s head, cracking it like an egg.

With that trooper falling over in a bloody heap, Dhar-Mon focused his energy towards the next man, and with a glow of purple he could see their mind bending under his will. These troops had little fight in them, and the soldier easily picked up their gun and turned on their own men.

The Shrinemaiden lifted her sword again, testing her arm, and made a leap for the roof, where she was again hidden from sight. She heard the clink of a grappling hook as Gur-Rai zipped over to her, landing beside her.

“Close call.” He muttered, training his sniper on one. “Hey. You didn’t happen to bring that old shotgun I made you, did you?”

She sighed. “Yes, I did.”

“Now would be an excellent time to use it~”

“You know my aim with a firearm is poor.” She muttered, pulling Arashi from her back and copying her brother’s stance. “Do not blame me if I miss and reveal our position.”

“Sister.” Gur-Rai made a tut tut noise. “What did I tell you all those years ago?”

She scowled.

“Sister~”

“‘Sister, you will be the eye of the storm’.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I shall fire on your mark.”

“Good.” He raised a hand. “Three. Two. One!”

She took a breath, held it, and pulled the trigger, the recoil punching her in the shoulder. The bullet cut through a stack of crates, which upon being hit, detonated in a burst of flames. The splinters of wood exploded out in a swath of fiery debris, torching the three troopers who had been using the boxes as cover.

Kon-Mai glared at Gur-Rai, who was wearing the biggest shit eating grin she’d ever seen.

“You knew I would miss.” She said accusingly.

“Sister, I am simply playing to your strengths.” He gestured. “And look, they’re dead either way.”

She smiled, just a tad. He was right, after all. They were dead, either way.

“I have a clear shot for the door!” Shamil cried into the comm. 

“I’ll cover you!” Gur-Rai looked through his scope again. “You look fine from up here.”

“Okay.” Vicky and Shamil made a dash for the front door. From the other side of the roof, there was a clang as yet another trooper was introduced to the business end of the Hieromonk’s weapon.

“Working on the door-” They heard it slide open almost immediately after Shamil plugged in. “...That was easy…”

“Too easy.” Gur-Rai looked at Kon-Mai.

“No doubt they are leading us to the trap, like pigs to slaughter.” Kon-Mai bit her lip. “Dhar-Mon.”

“I am here, Sister!” He shouted into his comm, causing slight distortion.

“We are moving inside. Take a position in the rear, I have a sinking feeling more shall join us.”

“As you wish.” He said.

Shrinemaiden and Darkstrider jumped from the building, landing on their feet gracefully in front of the open doorway. Kon-Mai peeked inside and scanned the hallway.

“The coast is empty.” She stood to the side and let Shamil and Vicky in first, Gur-Rai following behind. She waited for Dhar-Mon, who had called forth his psionic energy to his hands once again, and he nodded for her to go. With him close behind, they dashed inside.

The building was dilapidated, old and partially rotted. It looked more like a scene of a horror movie than a scientific building. Gur-Rai let loose a whistle. “ADVENT is really letting their best go unchecked.”

“This is disgraceful.” Dhar-Mon muttered. “What would have caused them to leave this place in such a state?”

“Diverting materials.” Vicky finally spoke up. “Maybe to the Avatar Project.”

No one said a word to that. It was a very plausible explanation.

“Where are we going?” Kon-Mai asked Shamil.

“My computer hates this place but…” He smacked it. “Okay. We make a right turn here, then another...then another…”

“Into the center?” She raised a brow. “Like circling the drain.”

“Hey if worse comes to worst, I’ll shoot out the ceiling.” Gur-Rai winked.

“Wonderful. That will work perfectly in our favor.” She rolled her eyes.

The quiet of the facility was nearly stifling as they descended deeper and deeper into the bowels. Each turn let them to another door, each door was harder and harder to crack. Each time the Chosen would stand guard for their human compatriots, and each time they were met with empty halls and deserted rooms. The silence was beginning to grow worrisome.

Dhar-Mon growled. “Where are the guards? Do they intend to do nothing to stop us?!”

“Oh, they’re coming.” Gur-Rai muttered. “It’s the when that’s bothering me.”

“Keep your eyes sharp, Brother.” Kon-Mai said, one hand on the hilt of her sword. “With each step we draw closer to our goal.”

Finally, they rounded one last corner, shrouded in darkness by broken lights, and came to a final door, sealed with magnetic energy and reinforced with layers of metal.

Shamil stared at it for a moment. “...There’s no keypad.”

They looked around. He was correct, there was no keypad in sight.

“How do we open this then?” Vicky scoffed. “Do we all stand in front of it and yell open sesame?”

“Well, it’s worth a shot.” Gur-Rai holstered his rifle and went up to the door, putting his hand against the metal. “That tickles…”

“What do you sense, Brother?” Kon-Mai asked.

“Psionic energy.” He looked back at Dhar-Mon. “I think this is your department, my brother.”

Dhar-Mon followed Gur-Rai’s movement, pressing five fingertips against the metal of the door and focusing. His brow creased and he winced, then jerked away. “It is fighting back.”

Gur-Rai raised a brow. “Wow, didn’t know it did that.”

“Allow me to help.” Kon-Mai stepped up, in between her brothers, and laid her free hand on the door as well. Closing her eyes, she let what psionic energy she possessed flow into her fingers, joining with her brothers. The three of them kept pressure on it, and while the door seemed to be fighting back, they could feel it being worn down, the magnetic field slowly dissipating…

There was a click. Slowly, with churning gears, the door dragged itself open, and the contents of the room were revealed.

“Holy fuck.” Gur-Rai gasped. Vicky rushed in immediately, followed by Dhar-Mon and his sister. Shamil and Gur-Rai stayed back, their mouths hanging open in horror.

“It’s him…” Shamil whispered. “What have they done to him…?”

The limp form of Shaojie Zhang hung by his wrists and ankles, strapped against the wall with metal cuffs and braces. His skin was deeply jaundiced and bruised and his joints were severely bloated, possibly from fluid or even rot. But the worst was his abdomen, ripped open to expose his organs, still desperately pumping to keep him alive. Tubes were burned into the open crevice in his body, writhing on their own as though they were feeding off him.

“Oh God, oh Jesus, they didn’t teach us this in bootcamp…” Vicky hissed as she looked in her medical kit. “What the fuck do we do?!”

The Hieromonk stepped forward and pressed his hand against Zhang’s neck, checking his pulse, and Zhang’s eyes suddenly flew open. Kon-Mai reached for her sword, but stopped. Zhang looked at her with terror in his eyes.

“It is alright.” She lowered her hands. “We are not here to hurt you.”

He tried to speak but it came out in panicked gasps, as though his voice no longer worked. He seemed to be writhing against his restraints with what strength he still possessed.

“We are with XCOM.” She showed the badge on her shoulder. “Do you see?”

He stopped struggling, but still looked between her and Dhar-Mon with undisguised panic.

“I do not think he trusts us.” Dhar-Mon said to his sister.

“He has little choice. We don’t have time to prove ourselves.” She growled. “Vicky.”

“I’m working, bitch!” Vicky snapped. “I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to untie him!”

“Let me try.” Gur-Rai jogged up. “I’ve been inside a few men in my day~”

Dhar-Mon made a fake gagging motion and rolled his eyes. Kon-Mai let slip a smile, and Gur-Rai cracked his knuckles and got to work.

“Let’s see here. Well that’s your appendix there, you don’t need that.” He slipped two finger’s into Zhang’s abdominal cavity. “This is gonna hurt.” He pinched off the appendix, and the tube attached to it, and yanked. It came out with a wet splat, and Zhang began to spasm.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vicky screamed, and Dhar-Mon rushed in and put his hand back on Zhang’s neck.

“His heart races with the agony, Brother.” Dhar-Mon looked at him.

“Good, that means he’s alive.” Gur-Rai licked his lips. “One down, four to go. This next one's on your liver…” He reached back. “Sis, you got your dagger?”

“I do not like what you are planning.” She said as she pulled her dagger from her belt and handed it to him.

There was intense silence, broken only by the ominous chattering and clicking sounds of the old walls as Gur-Rai slipped the blade of the dagger in between the fleshy organ and the teeth of the tube that held it in place. Zhang’s entire body tensed up for a moment, until Gur-Rai managed to wriggle it in just the right way that the teeth came loose, and the tube fell out and onto the floor.

“Hell yeah.” He let out a breath. “Almost done, Bud.”

The creaking in the walls grew louder for a moment, almost sounding like scraping. Kon-Mai looked around, drawing her blade again. “Something is amiss.”

“Put that thing away. It’s scaring him.” Vicky scolded.

Kon-Mai bore her teeth. “Very well. I shall allow us to remain unsheltered, like sitting ducks.”

Vicky made a mocking gesture with her hand and turned to look at Shamil. “Shammy! You have your pistol?”

“Yeah…” He sounded distracted.

“See? Shammy has the door. We’ll be fine.”

Zhang wailed in pain. Two of the tubes dropped to the floor, along with a piece of flesh.

“That one didn’t wanna let go. One more…” Gur-Rai grimaced. “And...fuck.”

“What…?” Kon-Mai peered over her shoulder.

“It’s on his heart.” Gur-Rai sighed. “Fuck. Okay. This is fine.” He twirled the dagger in his hand. “They don’t call me the Helsinki Heartbreaker for nothin’!”

“I have many questions.” Kon-Mai sighed, peering in closer to watch her brother begin his work.

“It’s just like replacing the RAM in a computer.” He hissed. “Gotta make sure not to bend the casing.”

There was a sudden, loud shriek from the door, followed by gunshots in rapid succession. The Chosen all jumped in surprise, Kon-Mai grabbing her katana. “Who goes there?!”

“Shammy!” Vicky called. The lights flickered for a moment, and they saw Shamil’s figure stumble towards the door.

“Shammy! Are you ok?!” Vicky rushed towards him but Kon-Mai grabbed her.

“Wait-”

“What are you doing?! Let me go! Sham-” She broke off.

Shamil’s mouth moved, but no words came forth. He stumbled inside, fell to his knees and hit the floor, green ooze spilling from the wound on his neck. As his body spasmed once and fell limp, a shriek came from the hallway so loud it could shatter bone.

“CHRYSSALIDS!” Kon-Mai pulled Vicky behind her and rushed to the door. “Gur-Rai, hurry!”

“You can’t exactly rush open heart surgery!” He snapped. “Dhar-Mon, go help her!”

“You need assistance here!”

“If Vicky would DO HER FUCKING JOB maybe that wouldn’t be the case!” He growled back at the human medic, who had abandoned the mission and ran to Shamil.

“Move, Child!” Dhar-Mon ran to Vicky and grabbed her arm.

“Let me go! He’s alive, I know it!”

“His corpse shall be a feeding ground, soon enough!” Dhar-Mon tossed her towards Gur-Rai. “Come, and save the man who still has a fighting chance!”

“Fuck you, you big dumb bohunk!” Vicky spat. “You don’t get it because you’re not human! You don’t know how to love like we do! I bet you’d sacrifice your own siblings if you had to!”

Dhar-Mon’s eyes grew dark, as did the room around him. “Do not speak such dark language to ME, little wretch! It was not I who let him die!”

“VICKY, COME DO YOUR FUCKING JOB, OR I WILL JAM MY GUN UP YOUR ASS AND PULL THE TRIGGER!” Gur-Rai shouted.

“FUCK OFF, YOU ROTTEN FISH STICK!” She ran for the door, grabbing Shammy by the arms and beginning to drag him, slowly, towards the door. “I’m getting out of here!”

Dhar-Mon looked at Gur-Rai.

“Toss me her medkit.” He muttered.

“You will need help.” Dhar-Mon protested as he handed it off.

“I’m not the one facing down a Chryssalid. Go help Kon-Mai.”

Dhar-Mon nodded and ran to the door. The Chryssalid was still in the outer hallway, and Kon-Mai seemed to be holding it back with her blade, but with each attack it drew a bit closer to her, each strike was a little more sure. And to make matters worse, the walls were clicking again.

“They have brethren coming to join the fray.” Kon-Mai grimaced. “Kill one, and another takes its place!”

“Then we must retreat!” Dhar-Mon lifted his arms, purple energy glowing at his fingertips.

“They block the way!”

“Stand before me, Sister.” He looked at her. “And be ready. I have an idea.”

She blinked, then grinned, her teeth glistening in the light. “I understand, Brother.” 

Dhar-Mon moved behind her, and Kon-Mai kept her blade out, waiting for the Chryssalids to come scuttling out of the walls. One by one, more joined the fray, littering the hallway, clawing at each other to get through…

Dhar-Mon reached out with his mind, and Kon-Mai felt his power seep into her body, entwining with her neurons and synapses, flowing into her blood. She turned her sword upside down and jammed it into the ground, cutting through the concrete. Pulling back, a purple wave rose before her. 

Kon-Mai’s blade sliced through the concrete floors, the wave of psionic energy building and building. Then, with a demonic smile, she ripped the sword out of the ground and sliced across her path, propelling the mount of energy into the Chryssalids, who were all lined up nicely in her path. Their bodies flew, crunching on the ground as they bent under her Harbor Wave.

She looked back at Dhar-Mon, who let his arms drop and wiped his forehead.

“Are you well?” Her smile disappeared into a look of worry.

“That was nothing.” He smiled. “The pathway is clear, all we require is-” He broke off as Vicky began to scream.

“FUCK!” Gur-Rai yelled as he looked back at her. “The corpse!”

Kon-Mai gasped. “Vicky! Get away!” She rushed in and grabbed Vicky by the arm, pulling her back as Shamil’s corpse exploded, a Chryssalid of monstrous proportions clawing its way out from inside him.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!” Gur-Rai twisted the dagger, and the claw around Zhang’s heart finally popped off. The restraints around his limps loosened and fell away, and he collapsed in Darkstrider’s arms.

“Dhar-Mon!” Gur-Rai called, struggling to keep Zhang from falling over. “I NEED YOU!”

“I am busy!” Dhar-Mon pulled his hammer from his back as Kon-Mai dashed toward the Chryssalid. It was huge, as tall as the ceiling and larger than the one’s they’d encountered in the hall, and despite the great height of the Chosen, it easily dwarfed them. However, Kon-Mai was not deterred.

“I shall hold the monster!” Kon-Mai shouted. “Take Zhang and run!”

“We’re not leaving you!” Gur-Rai spat, looking around. He laid Zhang on the ground and patted his head. “Hang tight, my dude. I’m gonna blaze a new trail.” Determined, the Darkstrider drew his gun.

Dhar-Mon dashed in as Kon-Mai slipped on Shamil’s blood, her leg twisting as she hit the ground. The Chryssalid went to stab her, but it’s claw was knocked away by Dhar-Mon’s hammer.

“BACK, YE FOUL CREATURE!” He commanded, his voice booming. “BACK FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!”

Kon-Mai crawled away, her leg screaming with pain as she got up, but she shook it off and dashed around behind, slicing through one of the Chryssalid’s appendages as payback. It screeched, writhing in agony as the digit fell limp beside it.

“GOT IT!” There was a boom, the room shook, and Gur-Rai waved them over to where he had blown a hole in the corner. “Secret tunnel, right here!”

“Then go!” Dhar-Mon grabbed Vicky and shoved her toward Gur-Rai. “I shall carry Zhang!”

Kon-Mai blocked the creature's stabs toward her brother as he darted around it’s legs, carefully picking up Zhang bridal style. The poor man was barely conscious, but he was alive.

“You shall be home soon enough.” He assured him, following Gur-Rai into the tunnel. “Kon-Mai!”

As Dhar-Mon called her name, Kon-Mai dropped her defense and sprinted for the hole in the wall, the Chryssalid on her heels. She dove inside just as she felt it smash into the edges, just a bit too big for the opening in the wall. Looking forward into the darkness, the five survivors ran.

.

.

“Gur-Rai.” Kon-Mai grunted. “I believe we’re lost.”

“We’re not lost.” He insisted. “I know exactly where we’re going.”

“Oh?” She muttered sarcastically. “Then where are we?”

“We’re in a secret tunnel.” He looked back at her, smirking.

“You dare jest when a man is dying?” Dhar-Mon sighed. “That is typical of you, Brother.”

“Hey, if I can’t laugh, all I can do is scream.” He stopped. “...Left or right?” He looked down at Vicky, who was walking silently beside him. “What do you think, left or right?”

“I don’t care.” Vicky snapped. “One of my fucking friends is DEAD!”

“Okay, and you’ll be joining him if we don’t get out of here.” Gur-Rai crossed his arms. “Sis, what do you think?”

Kon-Mai stood still and listened for a moment. “...Right.”

“Right?”

“Yes. I hear air moving through that tunnel.”

“Well then, right you are!” Gur-Rai snickered at his own joke and led the party down the right side.

Kon-Mai looked back at Dhar-Mon, still carrying Zhang. “How is he?”

“Alive.” Dhar-Mon muttered. “I fear how long that will be true, though.”

She fell back and looked over the man. Even in the dim light, she could see the horrifying extent of his injuries. It was a wonder how he was even alive in the first place. His eyes met hers, and she tried to offer him a smile.

“We will be home soon, my dear.” She said as softly and motherly as she could. “If only we had a blanket, something to keep him warm…”

“I have one…” Vicky muttered. “In my medpack.”

“We had to leave the medpack.” Gur-Rai snapped.

“Maybe if you didn’t take it-!”

“Maybe, and this is just me spitballing here.” Gur-Rai turned on her “Maybe if you did YOUR JOB, and HELPED ME instead of messing around with a corpse, we WOULD have the medkit!”

“SHUT UP!” Vicky covered her ears. “You don’t understand! None of you fucking understand!” She glared at him. “You can’t understand, because you’re fucking ALIENS, and you can’t love anything!”

“Stop…”

The soft whisper came from the man in Dhar-Mon’s arms. They all looked at Zhang, who couldn’t even look at Vicky as he spoke.

“Stop…” He said again, his voice no more than a whisper.

Vicky and Gur-Rai looked at each other, and Kon-Mai glared back at them.

“Stop.” Zhang said again. As he opened his mouth to speak, he gasped for air, coughing.

“Just rest.” Kon-Mai whispered, rushing to him and lifting his head slightly in her hand. “Please, rest.” She looked back at Gur-Rai. “He is fading, quickly.”

“...Let’s just keep moving.” Gur-Rai mumbled.

The tunnel began to widen out, the walls once again taking on the white facility color, although they were significantly more dilapidated than above. As they walked, the white ground became filthy, and it soon became clear that it was not rocks they were stepping over, but bones. They passed ancient corpses of human figures, some wearing labcoats, some wearing trooper armor, some wearing nothing. Their conditions ranged from full skeletons with dried meat still clinging to their bones, to bleached and crumbling, and all of them crawling with bugs and snakes. Zhang’s eyes followed them as they walked beside them.

“Who were such unfortunate souls?” Dhar-Mon mused.

“Doctors…” Zhang whispered. “For me.”

Dhar-Mon stopped, adjusting Zhang in his arms so the man’s head laid on his shoulder. “Were you so strong?” He chuckled.

He felt Zhang nod weakly. 

Dhar-Mon stopped briefly, looking down at Zhang. “You were?”

Zhang met his eyes, and to Dhar-Mon’s horror, those eyes began to take on a purple glow. He felt that familiar tingling of psionics, and suddenly he understood.

“HEADS UP!” Gur-Rai called. “We found our exit!”

Dhar-Mon power walked over to his siblings, as the tunnel began to fan out, the walls becoming rock, then dirt.

“Be wary.” His sister reached for her blade. “I hear something on the wind…”

Gur-Rai fell back a bit, and Kon-Mai took point, crouching as she moved toward the shred of light coming from above them. “I see the moonlight…” She hissed. “But there is movement…”

“Careful…” He warned her gently, and drew his own weapon. “Don’t want another Chryssalid atta-”

His comm suddenly exploded in static. “Come...Menace 1-5! Com...where the hell...you?!”

“Is that Bryni?” He said with a smile. “Good to hear from you, Dollface~”

“Good...alive! Got...ang?”

“You’re cutting out.” He said. “Wait until we’re outside.”

Kon-Mai led them out, the tunnel widening into the mouth of a cave, and they emerged into the forest. The Skyranger was flying in circles above them, and Gur-Rai waved his arms, beckoning her to let down the ropes.

“Firebrand, we need a stretcher!” He called. “Zhang’s looking pretty bad!”

…

“I don’t know how you did it.” Tygan as Zhang was wheeled by two of the nurses into he operating theatre. “With wounds like that? He shouldn’t be alive.”

“We have excellent teamwork skills~” Gur-Rai wrapped his arms around his sibling’s shoulders. “I imagine like this, we’ll be able to take the Elders down no problemo~”

“Do not get cocky.” Dhar-Mon scoffed. “We simply did what we had to, in order to save Zhang’s life.”

“Yes, well…” Tygan sighed. “The Commander is...not as happy as she could be. It’s been a while since we lost a soldier…”

“Shamil died with great honor.” Kon-Mai bowed her head. “Not once did he falter in his duty.”

“Vicky on the other hand…” Gur-Rai grimaced.

“Vicky is being dealt with.” Tygan bit his lip. “Don’t be too hard on her. That’s the Commander’s job. In the meantime, I believe Bradford-”

“-wants to see you.” A voice behind them said. “And you’d be right.”

As the three turned, Tygan followed the nurses into the theatre in order to start scrubbing up for Zhang’s surgery. Behind them, there stood Bradford, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“So I talked with the Commander.” He said. “Getting Zhang back...that was a big deal. And you three went above and beyond.”

“He is a good soldier.” Kon-Mai nodded.

“He’s also a good friend.” Bradford added. “We knew him before this war took a downward spiral and…” He sighed. “It’s good to have him back and relatively okay. The fact that you three brought him back to us…” He held out his hand. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

Gur-Rai reached out and shook Bradford’s hand, as Kon-Mai and Dhar-Mon bowed in return.

“Now, for your reward.”

“We get a raise.” Gur-Rai smirked.

“God, I wish. No.” Bradford straightened his back, standing at attention. “I hereby promote you three to the rank of Sergeant.”

Kon-Mai gasped in shock, and Dhar-Mon blinked in confusion. Gur-Rai, on the other hand, simply smiled and saluted Bradford in return.

“Central.” Dhar-Mon murmured. “Are you certain?”

“Positive.” Bradford smiled, and saluted the three of them. “For your excellent work in the field, and together.”

.

.

Vicky met the Commander’s gaze, then shivered and directed her gaze at the ground once again. In the darkness of the room, Senuna’s eyes cut through her like a beacon, glowing with unimaginable power.

“Your actions today were a disgrace.�� Senuna hissed behind her fingers, which she held to her lips. “I put my trust in you.”

“I’m sorry, Commander…” Vicky lowered her head.

“You not only neglected your duty, but you fought with your own teammates and insulted one of my best soldiers.” Senuna stood. “Your negligence cost us Shamil. And it NEARLY cost us ZHANG!” She slammed her hands into the desk. “Do you have ANY IDEA HOW IMPORTANT HE IS?! What it would mean if he had DIED?!”

Vicky fell to her knees, hugging herself. “I’m sorry, Commander! I’m sorry!” She was screaming. “I’m sorry! Shamil was...I couldn’t leave him!”

“And yet you had to leave him either way!” Senuna threw her hands up. “But I suppose this is my fault. Vet your soldiers and all that. This is what I get for trusting you.” She turned on Vicky again, who had dissolved into a puddle of tears. “Get. Up.”

She lifted her head.

“I am stripping you of your rank.” Senuna said. “When we next land at the Houston Safe Haven, YOU shall be returning there!”

Vicky’s jaw dropped. “No, Madam, please-”

“From this moment on, you are no longer a member of XCOM.” Senuna almost snarled. “I never want to see you on MY SHIP AGAIN.”

“Madam, NO!” Vicky clasped her hands. “Please! All I wanted to do was help! I want to help!”

“Then get out.” Senuna raised her hands, aquamarine lightning dancing on her fingertips. “What I'm doing for you is a mercy: you have no idea the powers you have crossed this day.”

.

.

.

.

.

(Today, we see a side of Senuna she usually keeps hidden. We also got to see the Chosen finally working as a team, and I for one love it! Can’t wait t write more battle scenes with all three of them!)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

#xcom #xcom 2 #xcom 2 war of the chosen #xcom zhang #shaojie zhang #xcom assassin #chosen assassin #xcom hunter #chosen hunter #xcom warlock #chosen warlock

[rosalind-of-arden]

The Canon Wolfe Trauma Reference Post

Since it looks like there’s some interest in distinguishing between canon and fanon where Wolfe’s torture is concerned, these are my notes on what we have from canon. Where relevant, I’ve noted where we have details that we specifically know apply to Wolfe himself vs details we know about the prison he was held in but don’t know for sure apply to Wolfe. I hope this will be helpful for tagging and for inspiring fics to explore the large amount of ground available to cover. Short notes first, then long list of relevant quotes under the link.

Notes:

In theory, the point of Wolfe’s imprisonment was reeducation. He was also tortured for information on his printing press research. The Artifex wanted to hurt Wolfe just to hurt him, ordering the torture to continue long past the point of achieving any other goal.

Wolfe’s research and journals were taken and put in the Black Archives and/or destroyed.

Wolfe was arrested in his house at night, taken to the Archivist’s office for questioning, then kept in a cell in the Serapeum and questioned further before being taken to Rome. Bit of ambiguity, but torture is likely here.

In Rome, Wolfe was held in a dark stone cell. No other canon details given on Wolfe’s cell specifically, but based on what is shown of the prison, it was probably solitary confinement, and he may have been kept chained.

Physical torture methods: Wolfe specifically refers to cuts, burns, and blows, no other detail given. He has scars, no detail given on where, how many, or what they look like (assuming none on his face, since that would have been mentioned). Based on what we see of the prison, probably any historical torture method is possible. While I’d say it’s generally being used metaphorically, “broken” comes up often enough to justify broken bones, depending on your reading.

Psychological torture methods: Being lied to, being told loved ones are dead, being given comfort (specifically better food, baths, clean clothes) only to have it taken away. Other forms of manipulation are possible.

Wolfe was given some amount of treatment for injuries while in prison. At a bare minimum, Qualls cleaned wounds.

Qualls was personally involved with all questioning and frightened Wolfe greatly. He worked for the Artifex but was given little information beyond the instruction to continue the torture. For unspecified reasons, he decided both he and Wolfe had reached their limits and arranged Wolfe’s release and his own retirement. Does not like the Artifex and threatened retribution if the Artifex imprisoned Wolfe again.

By the end of his time in Rome, Wolfe was so severely traumatized that he barely spoke. This continued at least for the first night after his release.

Wolfe returned home injured. He was bleeding and had difficulty walking. Santi cared for him, specifically bathing, clothing, and holding him. We don’t know any more about his condition or recovery process, other than the fact that he came out of it with PTSD and scars (again, no specifics on those) but no physical disabilities.

After his release, Wolfe is banned from research and publication. The Artifex continues to threaten him and the people he cares about. The Artifex repeatedly tries to kill him. Santi is also threatened.

Wolfe’s PTSD is triggered by memories, feeling trapped, anything prison-like, smells, darkness, and lack of sleep. Symptoms include suicidal thoughts, self harm, psychosomatic itching and pain, nausea, tremors, anxiety, panic attacks, hallucinations, intrusive memories, repressed memories, and trouble distinguishing reality from imagination/memory.

Detailed notes with direct quotes:

All page numbers are from US editions, paperback for the first three books, hardcover for the last two.

On the purpose of Wolfe’s imprisonment and torture:

Keria, on what to do with Wolfe after he invented the press: “He should be taken to a place of questioning and there made to see the error of his beliefs.” (I&B, p. 127)

On Wolfe’s disappearance and the destruction of his work:

Santi: “They took his research. And then he was gone.” (I&B, 322)

Santi: “They destroyed his research, his personal journals, everything.”  (I&B, 322)

The Archivist’s guard’s confession that Jess finds includes Wolfe being arrested and questioned, but no record of anything after that. It isn’t specified, but I’m assuming this is a record of what happened in Alexandria before Wolfe was taken to Rome, since it’s the Archivist’s guard. (P&F, p. 62)

Wolfe: “My device was destroyed, and I was charged with heresy. My work was erased. I was made to disappear, too.” (P&F, p. 63)

Wolfe was arrested in his house, taken to the Archivist’s office (he was questioned there, not specified whether torture was involved), then a cell below the Serapeum (implied he was tortured there, but not specifically stated), then to Rome. (P&F, p. 144-145)

Wolfe’s book on printing, at least, was not destroyed, but put in the Black Archives. Unclear what really happened to his journals and other work (P&F, p. 310)

Santi was in Belgium when Wolfe was arrested and would probably have been killed if he’d seen the press (A&Q, p. 134)

Wolfe on what his fellow Scholars ignored: “...he was dragged off in the night, when his work had been scrubbed from the shelves…” (S&P, 247)

On what happened in Rome:

Wolfe’s journal: “There are mornings when I wake and I am back in the cell, and I see nothing but the dark. Feel nothing but the pain. (P&F, p. 52)

Wolfe: “The pattern follows what they did to me: arrest, torture, prison, erasing me as if I never existed.” (P&F, p. 62)

Wolfe may have been drugged, specifically to keep him from remembering where he was held: “I don’t remember. Can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried. I can see pieces, but not… not anything significant.” (P&F, p. 66) (this memory loss might be drug induced, as Dario speculates, but torture itself can cause memory problems..)

Wolfe: “I can’t recall any useful details. What they did to me was very effective.” (P&F, p. 139) (As above, this memory loss might be from either drugs or the torture itself.)

Wolfe, mentioning physical torture methods: “I will happily remember every cut, every burn, every blow if it helps set that boy free.” (P&F, 140)

Being taken out of his cell in Rome was always (or at least usually) bad - Wolfe can handle remembering everything up until the Mesmer asks about what happened when he was taken out of his cell in Rome (P&F, p. 145-146)

Psychological torture method: “They lie [...] It’s their favorite tactic - I know it well - to break your mind and your spirit.” Specifically, falsely claiming that loved ones are dead. (p. 218)

Toward the end of his imprisonment, he seems to have become withdrawn: “there is no variety in his responses to questioning, whatever the particular tools we chose to employ. He rarely speaks at all now.” (S&I, p. 82)

As described by Qualls as of the day of his release: “if your plan was to break him, he is long past broken” (S&I, p. 82). “There are limits, and he has reached them.” (S&I, p. 83).

Qualls (hallucination) on some of what he did: “I’ve been with you in your darkest moments. I’ve cleaned your wounds. I’ve listened to you weep.” (S&I, p. 221)

The “gentle” questioning: “That had only made it worse, the times when the questions had been kind and soft, and there had been a cup of tea and a sweet pastry and a bath. Fresh clothes.” (S&I, p. 221)

Qualls did all questioning: “the questions always came, and always, always, the gray, pale shadow was there to ask them” (S&I, p. 222)

“He’d spent months in a cell like this, huddled and broken” (S&I, p. 224)

“...his body broken in the cells in Rome…” (S&P, 247)

Prison details that may or may not apply to Wolfe’s experience in Rome:

Prisoners are rewarded for good behavior with paper and books (P&F, p. 1)

Psychological manipulation: one guard was ordered to be friendly to Thomas to get secrets out of him (P&F, p. 1)

Cells, at least the one Thomas was in, have barred doors, stone walls and floors, a metal ring in the wall that prisoners can be chained to (P&F, p. 217)

Starvation is a possibility: Jess observes that Thomas lost weight in Rome (P&F, p. 217)

Limited availability of personal grooming and clothing options: Thomas’s hair and beard are a mess, clothes are an “oatmeal-colored shirt and trousers that were much worse for wear” (P&F, p. 217)

Prisoners are kept with wrists and ankles shackled for long enough durations that skin looks “raw” when the shackles are removed. Both Thomas and the other prisoner that Jess sees were chained. (P&F, p. 218, 221)

Torture room equipment: “Mechanical devices” with “spikes, straps, wheels, gears” (P&F, p. 221), “a particularly large construction that looked like a bed, but with gears and ropes and straps stained with old blood” (P&F, p. 222) (either a rack or some kind of restraint table?), “machines built to cut, to tear, to pull, to cause suffering and anguish. There was no other use for them.” (P&F, p. 225)

Rations in the prison in Alexandria seem nutritionally adequate, though it doesn’t mention quantities or say how often they’re delivered: “Meat, bread, cheese, figs, a small portion of sour beer and a larger one of water.” (S&I, p. 91). Wolfe doesn’t find the taste appealing (S&I, p. 92)

The Artifex threatens to shoot another prisoner to coerce Wolfe’s compliance (S&I, p. 94)

Mind games from the Artifex: “I will protect Santi if you take your own life” “if you don’t accept this bargain, I will see that he suffers every torment you can possibly imagine in your place. I’ll even have you brought along” (S&I, p. 98-99)

Prison conditions Wolfe does not think of as torture: “deprivation and the boredom and routine of prison”. He does, however, consider the looming threat of horrible execution to be psychological torture (S&I, p. 227)

Qualls:

Thought they had learned as much as they could from questioning Wolfe six months before releasing him (S&I, p. 82)

Did not want Santi dead (S&I, p. 82)

Did not know why the Artifex hated Wolfe (S&I, p. 82)

Does not consider himself a good person: “I am, as you’re aware, not a merciful person, or a kind one; I would not last long in this job if I had even a shred of such fine qualities.” (S&I, p. 82)

Has limits, does not specify what they are: “I have had enough.” “There are limits, and he has reached them. So have I, surprisingly.” (S&I, p. 82-83)

Very thorough in his plan to release Wolfe, exact sequence of events unclear: “I have personally released Scholar Wolfe, and I have seen the Archivist in person [...] The Obscurist Magnus has also been told.” Archivist allowed the release in part because Qualls had information on other prisoners in Rome, in part because Keria was furious. (S&I, p. 83)

Feels strongly enough about Wolfe’s release to threaten to expose Library secrets if the Artifex ever has Wolfe imprisoned again (S&I, p. 83)

Speaks to Wolfe in a creepily pseudo-comforting tone, at least while Wolfe is hallucinating him: “We’re old friends, you and I. I’ve been with you in your darkest moments. I’ve cleaned your wounds. I’ve listened to you weep. Remember?” (S&I, p. 221)

Hallucination Qualls describes the times the questioning was gentle as “the good times.” (S&I, p. 221)

Appearance: “the gray, pale shadow”, Even in full light, the man had always been terrifying. Something about him was dead, and it showed in his eyes, his smile, the not-quite-human way he moved.” (S&I, p. 222)

On the aftermath:

Santi: “It was more than a year before he turned up again. Middle of the night. He looked like he’d crawled out of hell.” (I&B, 322)

Santi: “He’s a walking ghost. He’s been a ghost since the day they finally let him go.” (I&B, p. 323) (could be a reference to his status with the Library, but I read some indication of his mental/emotional state into this, too)

Santi: “I was there when Wolfe crawled bloody to this door. I’m the one who saw what was done to him.” (P&F, p. 138)

Wolfe doesn’t blame Santi for not wanting to see the Mesmer session because “he remembers how I was after” (P&F, p. 141)

Keria was there when Wolfe was released: “She brought me home. To you. She left before you found me.” (P&F, p. 291)

Released by Qualls personally (S&I, p. 83)

“He’d come back from Rome a broken, shaking shell of a man” (S&I, p. 226)

Wolfe’s own memories of his return home: “A broken bone heals twice as strong, he told himself. Santi had taught him that mantra the night he’d stumbled in the door of their house. [...] Santi had bathed him, dried him, clothed him, held him through the night to whisper it in a constant, bracing refrain, because Wolfe had been unable to speak or explain where he’d been” (S&I, p. 230)

Continuing threats and punishment after Rome:

Pretty much every ephemera from the Artifex involves a threat or attempt to kill Wolfe.

Wolfe, to the Artifex: “I’ve done all that you have asked of me since my release. I’ve stood silent when you threatened my friends, my lover, destroyed my life’s work. I’ve borne every punishment.” (I&B, p. 160)

Wolfe: “Saddling me with your class was a kind of punishment. To teach me obedience.” (I&B, p. 286)

Santi: “They wanted him to find your secrets and turn them over. But he found your secrets and he never betrayed them. […] Little rebellions. Wolfe was meant to die on the trip to Oxford. He’s an embarrassment and a risk. Living on borrowed time.” (I&B, p. 323)

Journal monitoring, at least as far as Wolfe knows, began after Wolfe’s arrest. He’s afraid they’re monitoring Santi’s especially closely: “I was afraid you’d change what you were writing. If you had, they’d have taken you.” (I&B, p. 326)

Wolfe: “I was finally released, under the condition that I never again publish or pursue any lines of research that the Library deems dangerous. I live on sufferance.” (P&F, p. 64)

Trauma symptoms:

Suicidal thoughts:

““Better safe than dead, sir” [Glain] said. “As you well know.” “Do I?” His face, Jess thought, looked more set and grim than ever, and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes [...] He looked thin and haunted.” (P&F, p. 34)

Santi: “It’s keeping you alive. That’s what I care about.” Wolfe: “Then you care too much.” (P&F, p. 58)

Wolfe: “I’m not insane [...] I’m not on the verge of it. I may be stretched to my limits - my limits being admittedly lower than they should be [...]”

Wolfe, in response to Santi saying he’ll support him: “That’s what makes me live when the alternative seems so peaceful” (A&Q, p. 269)

““Promise me that tomorrow, there’s no prison. No Qualls. If it comes to that-” “If it does,” Santi said, “then it comes for us both.” [...] Odd, that the promise of death would sound so inviting when put that way” (S&I, p. 349)

Self harm:

“He slammed the heel of his hand into the wall, again and again until he felt the skin break and smelled hot blood” (S&I, p. 99)

In prison again: “His skin itched so fiercely that he rubbed scars until they bled” (S&I, p. 220)

Tremors and other psychosomatic symptoms:

“There was a tremor in his voice now, and in his hands, too” (P&F, p. 58)

In prison again: “His skin itched so fiercely that he rubbed scars until they bled” (S&I, p. 220)

When remembering the nicer questioning in Rome: “Wolfe remembered it so vividly every scar began to ache” (S&I, p. 221)

“His hands trembled” (S&I, p. 220)

After the Qualls hallucination: “Wolfe held his head in his hands, shivering, sick, shaking from the onslaught of memory” (S&I, p. 222-223)

Being taken for questioning: “a wave of very real nausea and dizziness” (S&I, p. 230)

Trouble telling reality from hallucination:

Wolfe’s journal: “On those mornings, I am convinced I never escaped that place, and the life I have had since never existed at all, except as a fantastic illusion.” (P&F, p. 53)

Self-induced hallucination as coping strategy: imagining Santi to get himself to sleep while back in prison, he seems to lose touch with reality, and Saleh’s comments in S&P suggest he might have been talking out loud while doing this (S&I, p. 220)

Qualls hallucination (S&I, p. 220-222)

Cell door opening (S&I, p. 223)

Sphinx could also be a hallucination (I tend to see this one as real, with the automaton’s attention drawn by Wolfe’s one-sided conversation with Qualls and attempt to open the door, but ymmv. (S&I, p. 223-224)

In Rome, Wolfe hallucinated Santi with him and was sure it was real at the time (S&I, p. 224-225)

Hallucinates Santi comforting him when he’s in prison again (S&I, p. 225-226)

The morning after the Qualls hallucination, he thinks of it as “a vague dream” and hopes his conversation with Saleh was hallucinated as well (S&I, p. 227-228)

Saleh: “Wolfe spoke of him [...] well… not to me. I suppose better to say he spoke to him when Wolfe was… unwell [...] Prison was not good for the man” (S&P, p. 51)

Nightmares and intrusive memories:

Wolfe: “I see all this every night in dreams.” (P&F, p. 63)

In prison again: “A night when he wouldn’t close his eyes, for fear the past would smother him.” (S&I, p. 87)

In prison again: “relaxing brought the memories. He’d fought them every night, sometimes all night; lack of rest made them more vivid and compelling” (S&I, p. 220)

While hallucinating Qualls: “He remembered. And that was more frightening than the idea that this was a ghost, a phantom, a madness.” (S&I, p. 222) (could read this just as a statement on how traumatic the memories are, could read as repressed memories surfacing)

After the Qualls hallucination: “Wolfe held his head in his hands, shivering, sick, shaking from the onslaught of memory” (S&I, p. 222-223)

Repressed memories:

Wolfe, on where he was held prisoner: “I don’t remember. Can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried. I can see pieces, but not… not anything significant.” (P&F, p. 66) (this memory loss might be drug induced, as Dario speculates, but torture itself can cause memory problems..)

Wolfe: “I can’t recall any useful details. What they did to me was very effective.” (P&F, p. 139) (As above, this memory loss might be from either drugs or the torture itself.)

While hallucinating Qualls: “He remembered. And that was more frightening than the idea that this was a ghost, a phantom, a madness.” (S&I, p. 222) (could read this just as a statement on how traumatic the memories are, could read as repressed memories surfacing)

After the Qualls hallucination: “Wolfe held his head in his hands, shivering, sick, shaking from the onslaught of memory” (S&I, p. 222-223)

The morning after the Qualls hallucination: “He’d forgotten that he’d spoken to Saleh in the depths of his delusion. Or at least had hoped that the conversation had been imagined” (S&I, p. 228)

Seems like he’s already repressing the memory of the Qualls hallucination: “Something tugged at him, and for a second he felt a bubble of panic surface. Some memory clawing to the surface, something from the prison. Then he remembered, and a flinch ran through him.” (S&I, p. 348)

Not talking about Qualls more than once could be an effort to repress those memories, too (S&I, p. 2348)

Anxiety/Panic Attacks:

In the prison, Wolfe snaps at the kids, his voice breaks, and Jess observes trembling, sweat on his face even though the temperature is cool, and possible trouble breathing (“Wolfe dragged in a tormented breath”) (P&F, p. 220)

At the castle, Wolfe and Santi end up fighting because of Wolfe’s reaction to being trapped and fear of being captured “So we stay here, in this - overstuffed prison, waiting for the Archivist to turn the High Garda on us? I won’t. I can’t.” (A&Q, p. 267)

Wolfe, to Thomas: “You understand. Rooms grow small. Silence gets heavy.” (A&Q, p. 283)

When the Artifex ambushes the pack in the Iron Tower, Wolfe and Thomas both look “as if their souls had already left their bodies.” (P&F, p. 324)

Wolfe is oddly quiet when first locked up in Philadelphia (A&Q, no dialogue from p. 16-28, while others are discussing strategy)

When put in prison again: “A day of shuddering, flinching, imagining that every sound was a torturer coming for him again.” (S&I, p. 87)

When hallucinating Qualls: “He stopped breathing. Like a child, hiding in the dark from the monsters, that was all he could do.” (S&I, p. 221)

When the cell door “opens”: “something inside him twisted and screamed in terror at the thought. I won’t make it.” (S&I, p. 223)

Wolfe, learning he’s nominated for Archivist: “His eyes burned, and for a moment he thought it was with tears, but no, no, it was anger. He couldn’t speak. Could hardly breathe for the pressure of fury building in his chest.” (S&P, p. 246) (Dominant emotion here is anger, yes, but don’t these also sound like panic attack symptoms? And doesn’t Wolfe frequently get angry in response to feeling trapped?)

Triggers:

Memories, in general, trigger symptoms.

A list of triggers, smell being the worst: “He could ignore the darkness, the bars, the discomfort. But not the smell.” (S&I, p. 87)

Lack of sleep: “relaxing brought the memories. He’d fought them every night, sometimes all night; lack of rest made them more vivid and compelling” (S&I, p. 220)

#the great library #christopher wolfe #trauma #qualls #canon torture #really long post

[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach 9

Mom powered through with the graduation dinner decisions, tossing out questions that I was terrified to even contemplate the meaning behind.

“Mr. Negan? Is he planning on wearing a suit to dinner?” I rolled my eyes so hard at the repeated use of ‘Mr. Negan’ that I may have gone temporarily blind. “Mara! Please answer me.” Shit.

“Negan, Mom, that’s his name. Negan. Like Cher. Or God.” I nearly fell over trying to stop myself from laughing. She was glaring at me. Fuck. “I’m not sure what he’s planning on wearing, honestly.” If I had my way, we’d skip dinner and get to naked fun times at his place, but no, we’d be forced to sit through multiple fucking courses with our parents and suck it up. Instead of sucking him- Shit. “Do you want me to check?” It was midday, he was in class, and I was being lazy waiting for shit to finish up. We had two more days until kickoff. Or whatever sports term worked for finally being open and out with our relationship.

“Please.” She sounded as done with me as I felt about her right now. “Let me know, and if he could tell you the color and pattern.” I nearly broke a rib holding back the hilarity of asking Negan what color and pattern he’d chosen to wear for dinner. Jesus.

“Sure, Mom.” I rushed back up the stairs to my bedroom. Oh the text shit I was going to get for this.

Boop.

I waited, knowing that he was a bad Coach who kept his cell in his pocket ‘just in case’. Usually those ‘just in case’ situations came out with him asking for strength to get through the day. And ‘strength’ was code for pics of me. Usually clothed. Usually.

Boop right back at you, sweetheart.

Is it normal to HEAR the voice of the person texting, because I swear to God I could hear his. I smiled like a goofy teenager and typed Mom’s most important inquiry.

Mom is losing her shit. Are you, Mr. Negan, planning on wearing a suit to dinner? BTW BONUS points if it’s your birthday suit. I am SO down with you naked like a buffet for me.

I laid back on my pillows, letting my mind wander to naked Negan. I was just about to go to my very happy place when my phone dinged.

JESUS, Princess, could you NOT while I’m in the middle of fucking softball.

Oops. I waited, knowing he’d get himself under control eventually. It took a few beats more than the first answer. I was trying to hold back giggles at the image of him dropping the phone in the field.

I just had a rush of horror at Eric FINALLY seeing my damn birthday suit, fuck. Yes, I’m wearing a suit. Don’t I have to at THE CLUB.

Eric seeing Negan naked did it. My laughter hit hard and long. Shit. Oh my fucking God. I was brushing away tears so I could ask the follow up.

Eric wishes for that daily, my darling. Mom also wanted to know if you have a color scheme picked out.

I waited, deciding to fuck with Eric while I let Negan decide if he was one of the Queer Eyes or the Straight Guy in his fashion sense.

Tried to get Coach to go Full Monty for graduation dinner. No go. He’s afraid you’d smack me away from my present. Bitch, you ruin everything.

I was considering my own outfit choices for under that cap and gown ensemble that we were doomed to wear when the first response came in.

RUIN? Look here, you thirsty whore, you’re only scared that I’d take that cock in hand and he’d never give you another glance. Although, it begs the question. Do you have nudie pics of Coach? Share, bitch, you owe me.

I didn’t have a chance to answer because Negan popped up with his own answer.

My carpet matches the drapes, sweetheart, you know that.

For fuck’s sake, these two were going to kill me with laughter. Sighing, I sent Negan’s text first. After all, seeing him naked was a joy that I wanted to be given without the inability to sit down.

Suit colors, babe. Mom probably wants to match the fucking centerpiece to your tie. Love you, and I wasn’t kidding about naked buffet you. I get a present, right?

Then because Eric was being so agreeable, I flicked through the multitude of photos I had of Negan, because if I shared, then he had to, too. I found one that was just of his very happy trail, on his very lickable stomach and pressed forward on it to Eric. Suck on that, bitch.

Seconds, literally mere seconds and again my phone was dinging like a mad cow on crack.

Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the fucking saints. You get to fucking touch THAT? You are a horrible, no good, fucking--

I was grinning at the knowledge that I tortured Eric for daring to ask for more knowledge of just how fucking lucky I was to have Negan’s naked body to play with on the regular. Opening up Coach’s message, I smiled.

Pretty damn sure it’s blue. And the tie? Some kind of fucking striped pattern? I don’t fucking know. Tell her I look like a pit boss in Atlantic City when I wear it. Should fucking help, right? As for that naked buffet, only if I get a matching one from you, princess.

Damn it. I was nearly panting by the end. Would we ever get over the rush of sex together? Would it stop being like it was now, breathtaking and mind altering? Because I fucking hoped not. Mary texted while I was standing in front of my closet trying to decide what I hated least.

Torturing your friends is NOT an ok past time. BTW Dear Fucking GOD.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Of course he shared. I would expect nothing less. They were my circle. What one got, the other got. Which made me groan. FUCK. I forgot to go shopping for presents for the two of them, and add one into the mix for Steven. Shit.

I’m heading out to shop. I’ll have my cell on me, but wanted to tell you, unless you want me to swing by school and remind you of all the ways I love you.

I was down the stairs, yelling to let Mom know I was heading out when his reply hit.

I’m ALWAYS up for a visit from you, Princess. School’s almost out though, how about I join you at the mall?

I snorted. Negan at the mall. Then reconsidered. We were going public. That was the plan all along after we’d gotten back together, once his divorce was finalized. Why not?

Sure. Text me when you get there and I’ll tell you where I’m at.

I went to the first clothing store I came to that didn’t sell my mother’s favorite designers, and went through racks to look for an outfit for graduation. Nothing in my closet worked, and I really wanted to wear something nice for our first really official thing. As a couple. If Negan could wear a suit, then I wanted to look good for him too.

I found it in the second store. Like my Spring Formal dress, it looked more like lingerie, but unlike that dress, this one would scandalize the country club, my mother, and possibly force Negan to cut dinner short. Matching shoes, with the memory of how much he liked the ones I’d worn that night, were simple. Three straps and heels that weren’t going to kill me, but would possibly give Negan all the right ideas. I swiped my card and heard the ding of my phone at the same time.

Where can I find you, princess?

I smiled, taking the well wrapped dress and shoes stowed in a lovely shopping bag from the cashier and typed in my response as I walked. I picked the food court, not too far from where I’d found the dress and more likely near where he had parked.

I see you.

I looked up and there he was. In jeans and a t-shirt looking like he’d taken the time to shower after class. I licked my lips, because of all the edibles in the food court, I knew hands down which one I’d choose.

“Hey you,” he pulled me into his arms and I grinned. “You smell so fucking good, sweetheart.” His nose was buried in my hair and I snuggled into his chest.

“This is new.” I smiled up at him as he pulled away to take my hand, linking our fingers. “Two days too long of a wait, Coach?”

“An hour at this point is too fucking long, Amara.” He was walking in the direction opposite where I’d come from. “Shit,” he stopped looking down at me. “Where are we going?”

I laughed, he was so intent on being with me that he wasn’t even paying attention to why we were here. “I need to pick up some presents for Mary, Eric, and I guess, Steven.” His fingers linked with mine felt so natural that I didn’t pay attention to whether anyone was watching. Who cared?

“What do you have in mind?” He was smiling and I knew that he was just as happy to have time out in public as I was.

 We had fun shopping. Actual fun. It was mind blowing that we’d never really taken a chance to do it before, since we meshed so well with it. I had a feeling that he had MORE fun picking out Eric’s tiara than me. Finding bigger and gaudier ones by the moment.

“My mom is going to go apocalyptic if he puts that on during dinner.” I nodded. Yep, that was the one. It was regal, of that there could be no doubt. “I love you, do I say that often enough?” He pulled me into his arms while I was paying, wrapping himself around me from behind and propping his head on top of mine.

“I could stand to hear it more often.” He moved his head to kiss the side of my neck as the salesman smiled at us. “I love you, too, Amara.” He breathed a wonderfully wicked and hot idea into my ear and I felt my eyes flutter shut as the credit card machine rang out the finalization of my sale.

He took the bag and pulled me from the store. We walked with purpose, retracing our steps to the food court and through the mall’s main entrance. His car was on an outer boundary, and if I was in a teasing mood I’d have compared his parking spot to a serial killer’s lookout. My mind wasn’t on teasing. Not at the moment.

He had the doors opened, my bags in the front seat and me in the back before either of us could even say another word. And then his mouth was on mine and I was yanking his t-shirt off and my panties were gone. Dear fucking god, I thought as I flicked open his jeans and his mouth met my neck. “I swear to fucking Christ,” he was muttering and then he was inside of me and we stopped using words altogether.

It was fast and furious. Need and want and teeth and nails. His windows were so fogged up that no one could have seen inside even if we weren’t parked in the most hidden spot that the mall had to offer. I swore, as we were pressed together panting afterwards, that there was no way that it would ever stop being like this. Shouldn’t we have passed the honeymoon phase by now?

Negan’s face was pressed into the crook of my shoulder and my face was pressed against his bare chest. “I fucking love you, Amara.” I felt his lips kissing my skin, tasting the salt of the sweat we’d worked up. “Every fucking inch of you. Every single moment we have together. Fucking worth anything I have to give.

I kissed his chest with a smile on my lips. “You’re a marvel.” His chuckle vibrated against my lips as I kissed my way up to his neck. “You are a goddamn marvel, Negan, and I adore you from top to bottom.” He was still laughing. “OK, not your feet, and maybe not your butthole.” I shrugged, nipping at his jaw. “If you’re into the butt stuff, Eric’s at expert level there.”

“I think I’m OK with my ass not getting that kind of ‘love’.” He was smiling as our lips met and I swore his grin only grew.

#coach negan x student #negan x ofc #The Walking Dead #Smut

[neko-rogers]

The Secretary

Square Filled: Office Sex ; created for @spnkinkbingo

Synopsis: You’ve harbored a crush on an adorable Tech Support while acting as a secretary for the director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. (4.17 It’s A Terrible Life AU)

Words: 4401 — the longest one I’ve ever written so far

Forewarnings: NSFW 18+, twice the smutty goodness!!, flirting, kissing, blowjobs, intercourse inside the office, threesome spitroasting,

A fierce red colored blouse paired with the black pencil skirt matched your vivid personality while pushing past the transparent glass entrance. Your heels clicked against the marble floor while carrying a compilation of documents, on one hand, speeding towards the metal gray elevator doors that were about to close. You rushed onto that direction, hoping to catch the ride towards the twentieth floor instead of having to wait for it to reach the ground level again.

Fortunately enough a large hand halted the doorway to completely fasten and proceed to move upwards. You whispered a thank you towards that person once you entered the enclosed compartment and pressed the button with the number twenty displayed until it glowed in red underneath. Though you immediately noticed who it was once you looked up and discerned that it was none other than Sam Wesson from Information Technology.

“Hey, Sam,” you smiled.

Sam smiled back conveying that he was definitely happy to see you for the start of the day. He was wearing his casual uniform — a pale yellow polo shirt that had a small stitched logo of the company located at the upper left chest, plain vanilla khakis with a brown belt strapped around, and his hair neatly combed yet leaving a section of fringe to lay around which made him look ten times more adorable.

Even though you only started working for the company three weeks ago, you’ve begun to harbor a crush on that adorable Tech Support. You’ve admired him for times when you would see each other in the break room or times when you would pass by his cubicle and exchange looks. It made you blush while you tried to hide it from him by pathetically blocking your reddened cheeks with the clipboard and paperwork you were bringing.

Every morning you tried to bubble up small talks with the lad, earning a few laughs and fragments on how his previous day went. Though it wouldn’t take long as the elevator arrives on his designated floor while you had to wait for moments to get to yours, it was worth it, earning even the slightest discourse from Sam would help you get through the day.

When you do arrive, you made sure everything was organized and you were prepped to have a report for any calls or appointments your boss had to attend to with any of his clients. The elevator creates a pitched ding and you drag your legs towards the end of the hallway where his office was, nearing to the sign where his name was embellished on the solid plate — Dean Smith. Director, Sales & Marketing.

“Pleasure to be making business with you, Sir.” Dean looked like he was talking to himself, laughing and chatting out loud, granted that he was actually conversing through that wireless earpiece. He didn’t hesitate to drop the call after a few seconds when he caught a glimpse of you entering the room, “How are we this morning, Y/N?”

You smiled and greeted him before walking closer to stand in front of his desk as he took a seat on his office chair. Then you browsed through your folder, searching for the papers that he needed to see, informing him about the updates on the product development programs. “Any others updates I need to hear about today?”

“None yet but I’m going to get updates in your mail later,” you answered.

Dean nodded his head as his fingers went to browse the documents you had placed down. You couldn’t decipher whether he was shaking his head disapprovingly or that it was merely his instinct, you just stood there waiting for him to ask more of anything he would be needing. “Great I just need you to check on a few evaluations with employees from the IT Department since some are beginning to slack off.” He began enumerating the last names while you took them down with a blue-inked pen and scratch notebook.

“Got it. I’m going to head down to check on any new emails in your account also.” You turned around and began walking across the room but before you could exit, Dean called your attention out to remind you of something. “Are you still available later on tonight, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to that dinner at eight.” The corners of his lips turned upright, creating a cheeky smile while brightening his mood once he heard that you were up for that date with him. He could almost fist bump the air but he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you. “That’s great, I’ll text you when I’m picking you up.”

When you went down to the floor where there were tons of cubicles were positioned side by side, you began picking out the names stated from earlier. You began printing out the evaluation reports then photocopying legal papers about logged expenses and financial purposes. The distinct, unhealthy odor of the copier machine already filling your nostrils as you finished your work for that space.

You made sure there were more to appraise to Dean when you return to his office than earlier, checking your laptop for any new events and reservations to be made. Then you also inspected other employees, ensuring if the policies in the building are being followed so that it wouldn’t be added worries for the busy schedule.

Despite that those work stated were only a few, it was pretty time-consuming when looking at the digital numbers at the corner of your laptop’s screen and viewing that it was already around break time. You made sure to save any files before heading to the break room and serve yourself a hot cup of coffee or any snack that could lead you to the afternoon.

As soon as you got to the area you met Sam again who was accompanied by Ian, the dark-haired lad who was smaller than him, constantly laughing maybe because of a joke he said before you arrived, “Sam you gotta write a book about all those dreams you’ve been having. It’s hilarious!” When he did catch sight of your presence entering, he stopped and looked at his tall buddy before smiling, “I’m going to head back now, best of luck to that.”

Sam was lightly blushing now while he waited for his snack to finish heating up in the microwave. He stood there, looking down at the carpeted floor while raising his arm and scratching the back of his head obviously trying to avoid contact from you because he was uneasy after his coworker embarrassed him in front of you.

“Hey, Sam.” You tried to avoid the awkward situation and ease him into talking with you again without having to feel shy around your presence.

He was convinced you weren’t offended by him as he cautiously looked up and gave that timid, lopsided smile. It was freaking adorable but you weren’t the one to patently express your emotions notwithstanding that it made your heart beat race just by being around him — you remained calm externally and casually smiled back. “Sorry about Ian, he gets loud and often times likes to humiliate me.”

You shook your head gesturing that it was fine and you didn’t think of him any less afterward.

“Hey so how are you enjoying your work here?” you questioned once you got a hold of your mug filled with the steaming caffeine, leaning against the high rise table. You looked tiny compared to the giant standing beside you.

“I honestly kind of hate it,” he answered, “I just feel like this isn’t for me. I think there’s a whole lot of options out there waiting for me and this job doesn’t feel right.”

Sam was frank about it and you couldn’t blame the guy. If it wasn’t for the compensated salary then you wouldn’t be staying here for the first month. It was honestly thrilling how accurate his response was but, in all honesty, the percentage of finding a job that feels perfect for you and has a well-paying salary would be extremely low. It’s sad how we spend most of our lives working, other than studying to finish education and claim a degree. We shouldn’t be torturing ourselves with something we won’t enjoy because life is too short to balance work, your family, and peace of mind altogether.

“Huh, I can say I feel that same way about that too,” followed by explaining your take upon working here.

He let out a gravelly laugh and said, “I guess we really do have a lot in common.”

Yeah. For the times you had those great discourses with Sam, there was always the exchange of opinions that you both seem to be interested in. You craved for intellect and he was definitely more to than what he looks — sharing perspectives upon subjects like these or that, even having minor debates at times, and it was very amusing and you could talk to each other for hours without even noticing how time went by.

“Hey we’ve been exchanging ideas for these past few days and we seem to enjoy them a lot,” Sam uttered, “maybe we could spend more time and discuss the things we like.”

He was asking you out.

“I know a cafe nearby and I have a free schedule by next week. We should really talk more outside rather than here in the building only, specifically the break room or the elevator,” he said.

Now the tables have turned and you were the one feeling timid around him, blushing greatly and looking down to try and avoid him to see your flushed cheeks. You were too excited you even forgot to respond until Sam had to snap you back into reality again and respond to him by nodding in agreement. “Can’t wait to hang out. See you then, Sam.”

A few hours have passed and your date with your boss was over. But the night didn’t end with you parting ways after having to eat a healthy dinner at a mid-end restaurant Dean drove you at. You knew how the night would end the moment he asked you for this date, his silver Prius already parking along his driveway and helping yourself out the passenger side then lead straight to his front door.

There was this one tiny detail in your relation to him that wasn’t mentioned — during the mornings and afternoons, the two of you associate like the typical boss and secretary and no one suspects a thing; however, when there aren’t any colleagues around that could deem your unprofessional acts, that’s when you share your most hidden desires and kinks.

Kind of like a subtler Fifty Shades of Grey, minus the playroom and extreme bondage.

When the door made the locking click from behind, your hands immediately grasped onto Dean’s button-down shirt and began unfastening. His lips linked with yours while the back of your head was resting against the wooden door, the distinct taste of those weird, powdered nutrition shakes lingering your buds.

His coat and suspenders were already discarded while your dress was halfway unzipped. Dean tried to guide you along the space, having to step on a few piles of clothes and almost tripping against the few pieces of furniture. The living room was barely lit since the kitchen was the only room that had the light switched on which illuminated weakly around the other areas of the floor. Eventually, both got to the stairs as enveloped his arms around your body and your legs were hugging his waist.

He successfully made it to the bedroom without causing any damage with bumping your head against the walls. Then he immediately laid your body onto his mattress, your back hitting the cold sheets that had aftershave scenting around the room. “You were so sexy with that red top earlier,” he husked.

Dean’s lips left yours now and helped its way to leave trails of kisses from your chin then to your lower jaw. While he was gently sucking and nibbling onto the sensitive skin around the neck area, one of his hands were unzipping your dress all the way down and hauling it past your legs until he finally got to see his favorite view of you in lingerie. It was the color blue, his second favorite pair, and both undergarments matched as he smiled to himself, getting harder with the thought of totally undressing you.

He unclasped your bra from behind and dragged your panties until you were bare underneath his touch. If only he could remind you how beautiful the marks on your waists were and tell you that your body was magnificent just the way it is, but he knew you wouldn’t take it seriously because your take on this dirty little secret was all work or fuck. Basically coworkers with benefits, but that title sounds like it came from two sex drove teenagers.

When you looked to your front, you saw Dean unbuckling his belt and pushing his khakis down resulting with his cock springing out all prepped for you. His length wasn’t compared the other men you’ve hooked up with; moreover, he was much girthier which meant you definitely felt him fill your pussy around that got you drooling for more. Plus, he knew his way with women; knew how to please them either with his dick or with his hands.

“You ready, sweetheart?” You couldn’t wait any longer and eagerly nodded to feel him inside you. Dean knew you were on the pill, for all the times you’ve had these little naughty adventures, so he didn’t have to ask if he had to wear any kind of protection.

Once you felt him ease himself into your tight cunt, you moaned out his name, feeling his familiar length throbbing between your walls. The view of him thrusting his body forward and backward while your legs are wrapped around his torso was exquisite, he was panting for you and seemed to be enjoying the feelings also, “Oh, Dean!”

The night continued on like that until the both of your rode down your orgasms and your bodies were left out of breath and heated under the cushiony bedsheets. You could hear his heart beat still racing as he deeply wheezed onto your bare neck which tingled for quite a bit. In addition to that was his bed hair, formerly gelled and combed whenever he entered the building, that was now all over the place.

You aren’t going to explain further because, for your point of view, this was all sex and no attachments involved. Although was fairly disheartening for you because you knew your boss developed feelings for you more than what the two of you has right now. You didn’t want to lie to him and pretend you were interested in becoming something more.

Just as you were about to relax under the arm Dean slung around your body, a notification occurred and the sharp alarm indicated that there was a text message for you. Your arm reached for the bedside but finding that your phone wasn’t there, then continued to fumble for the object at the floor where you detected that it was being covered by a few pieces of apparel.

Dean suspected your body stirring aside as he tried to have a quick glance at your screen which shone brightly to your face. He was curious as to why you giggled once you caught a clear read of what the message sent to you was. “You’ve been eyeing that Tech Support kid ever since you started,” he sighed, seeing Sam Wesson’s name displayed on the top and not bothering to eavesdrop more, much to his dismay.

“Yeah and we’ve been banging since I was promoted as your secretary,” you retorted, rolling your eyes at his disapproving tone.

Who was he to judge you for your taste in men? He definitely wasn’t the boss of you for that matter.

Eight days have passed.

For those days you noticed that Dean was getting awfully close with Sam, surprising you out from nowhere. It wasn’t like you had any suspicion with their sudden bond, you just couldn’t help yourself because it felt weird seeing them discuss matters privately in his office. You thought that maybe this was because of the issues about the sudden suicides in the office, even hearing from other colleagues that it was done by a ghost who owned this place.

When the number of dropping bodies somehow stopped, you saw that the two men became closer. They’ve grown more comfortable with each other even so with Dean letting you take extra breaks because he mentions that he has something to discuss with Sam Wesson. It was more depressing since he had spent more time with your boss that you couldn’t carry on with the cafe date you were expecting this week.

The next morning, you were expecting the usual — sitting on your chair in front of the laptop while browsing through emails, arranging documents, and printing out the files. You dropped your car at the parking lot at your usual spot and slung your shoulder bad around one arm, entering the building then hopping onto the elevator. You didn’t care if you were running minutes late because, for all you know, Dean could care less.

God you couldn’t even have the slightest talks with Sam. He’s been earlier alongside Dean for a while which meant you couldn’t even reach out to him anymore because someone keeps getting in the way.

Once you arrived at the designated floor, you hurriedly pulled your trusty folder out and caught the sight of Sam laughing with Dean as he was seated in front of his desk. Your boss was the one who acknowledged your presence immediately, “Great, we were just talking about you, Y/N.”

You were puzzled and anxious at the same time. Why were they talking about you? Was it because of you slacking off with your responsibilities? Was there something you were not doing right?

“Have I done something wrong, Sir?” Your voice was soft and pretentiously innocent. You couldn’t shake off the feeling of something bad about to happen as you were striding across the room and towards your boss who had a vague, solemn look glued to his face. “Not at all, sweetheart.”

“In fact, you’re doing great at your job. Sam and I have discussed this after we’ve grown closer due to this incident we witnessed a few days ago,” he explained.

Dean continued with his statement while your head cocked to your right and brows furrowed, “We all have very common interests here, as far as I have learned, so Sam and I thought we should get to know more of one another... After all, I mentioned your small admiration for Wesson earlier.”

Your cheeks were flushed. He didn’t have to embarrass you in front of another employee like this. “I don’t think I’m comprehending anything you’re talking about, Sir.”

Then Sam gestured to the vacant chair in front of him, asking you to take a seat and set your things down, so that the three of you can settle things straight. You adjusted your skirt and sat up straight, resting your palms atop your thighs and looking back and forth at the two men accompanying you in this room.

Furthermore, you couldn’t detect whether things were getting hot in here or it was just your basic female instinct that came jumping to conclusions. Both of them looked at you as if they were waiting for something to come out from your mouth but Sam decided to step up and give you a hint, “Dean thought that he could use an extra hand in helping you relieve the tension built in your system.”

The taller man extended his arm instinctively and reached to place his hand on top of yours. At first, it felt weird, it didn’t feel right but a major part of you knew that you’ve been longing for what delinquent fantasies they have stored in mind. “Of course we wouldn’t want you to force you in this, all you have to do is to decline our offer and we would still understand it.”

“But if you want it,” he mutters, “then we’ll both be willing to give it to you.”

“Fuck yes.”

They expected your answer soon enough and before you could fathom of what was to come, Sam leaned in to grasp on the sweet taste of your lips, since he had a large structure, he didn’t have any difficulties tilting to tower over your body. Using one hand, he was unbuttoning your thin white blouse and letting it fall from your body and discard it aside. Next, he secured his arms on either side of your waist and hoisted you up from the seat and on top of the office desk. And for Dean, he was definitely enjoying the view of Sam indulging with your lips, that pair that he loved to get a taste of every night in bed.

Dean got on his feet and immediately brushed your hair to one side of your body and began leaving soft kisses from the back of your neck and downwards to the clasp of your bra. Both of his hands made way under the fabric covering your magnificent breasts, making sure to give light squeezes as Sam was leaving marks around your lower jaw.

Meanwhile, Sam welcomed his broad body between your inner thighs, letting you feel his evident erection in his pants. he pushed your skirt up and revealed that you were wearing a black thong that looked perfect, barely covering skin as he was tempted to tear off the tiny piece of undergarment. You were amused and at the same time confused to whom your mouth was moaning for but you were definitely enjoying both anyway. “Lay on the table for us, princess.”

You quickly did what you were told and let yourself relax over the table. Your bareback resting against the cold surface while you looked up to see Dean already unzipping his pants and pulling out his hardened cock. He asked you to open wide before permitting his length to enter past your lips and become soaked with your saliva, groaning out curse words when realizing how good you are with your mouth.

On the other hand, your pussy was exposed for the man standing in front as he held two fingers and dragged it over your folds, feeling your juices dipping around and smirking to himself. Without enough foreplay, he was definitely surprised to detect that you’re sensitive amongst a certain part of your body, “My, aren’t you wet for us? We haven’t even touched you enough and you’re already dripping.”

Sam unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down. He had sunken into your cunt, and even without getting a clear view of how long his dick was, you discerned that he was very large due to the fact that your walls instantly clenching around him as the first instinct. Your view was busy hollowing your cheeks and taking Dean’s thick cock as a whole as the crown of his cock repeatedly slipped inside and out.

Your breasts bounced harshly as he gripped at your sides while continuing to thrust his hips. Sam enjoyed the feeling of your sweet little cunt tightening around for him, it wasn’t like any other he has ever felt, yours was different and he would enjoy it if this wouldn’t be the only time he’d get to fuck with it. And Dean was enjoying his side too. Your mouth watered down and dripped off your saliva as your tongue lapped onto the slit of his cock. He seemed to enjoy it judging by the fact that he couldn’t stop grunting with your actions.

“Oh fuck, you’re too freaking tight for me.”

“Your mouth feels warm and wet, just how I like it.”

Their dirty talks added more to what made your body weaken. You were sucking them up like a good little girl and your condition was swiftly heating up, feeling your lower abdomen create undefinable grumbles and feelings of butterflies. Your toes were curling under your heels and droplets of sweat streamed upside down as the humid slowly ruined your hair.

The feeling was unbelievable and you couldn’t help but tear up because getting pounded by two large men was new to your feeling. You couldn’t compare their size to yours so it wasn’t shocking when they couldn’t help but cum easily because of your tautness and splendid throat. Dean was already throbbing intensely as he knew to himself that he was about to climax. When he did, he made sure to fist his cock all the way, emptying himself while your mouth was gaping to catch all of his release.

Sam took a few more moments and made sure his thrusts were rigid, attempting to hit the right spots in order to make you scream his name. Since he was large, he didn’t have trouble finding his way into your sweetest areas and you enjoyed every bit of it — knowing most of the men who have large cocks honestly wouldn’t know how to use it. “I can feel myself coming close, Y/N,” he pants.

“It’s fine I’m on the pill,” you reassured, giving him the needed courage so he can finally release also.

Your orgasm was near and you decided that you were to release the same as Sam. So you held it for a little longer, purposely clenching while he felt the force of it, making him groan at his loudest. You moaned and it was the sign that you were going to release around his swelling tip, hearing the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he pulled your body closer to him. “I’m gonna cum.”

In the end, Dean’s office was scattered in stationeries like pens, notepads, and memos that are now all over the floor. He didn’t mind though as he helped you up while you tried to clean yourself from all the mess, fixing your hair and picking up the clothing on the floor. “We were lucky enough no one had to visit your office,” you panted.

“Yeah maybe next time we should do this somewhere more private,” Sam suggested.

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