#i did somehow finally figure out how to rocket jump out of the blue though

[arsonists-oatmeal]

started playing tf2 again, drew my main

[kkmm32]

So I made a Frenrey Fic-

I haven’t had two characters to ship together in forever and haven’t written since school ended so wHY not get some practice with both of em? At once??  Now don’t worry, it’s fluff (lord knows theres too many NSFW HLVRAI fics out there already...) and it’s probably like- mediocre but thats ok!!  So anyway, without further ado I bring you “Northern Lights” Enjoy!

It was late out when Gordon found himself staring up at the ceiling yet again.  How many times had he done this?  Three?  Five? Twenty?  it's not like he had bothered to count.  He had found himself startled awake by all too real nightmares countless of times, staring up at the ceiling or the sky, wherever they had decided to sleep.  It's true he had faced aliens, the military, death, to put it simply, right in the face hundreds of times while on their journey and at this point his nightmares should be just like any other day... or well any other day past the incident.  But unfortunately the human mind couldn't adapt to such things easily and thus his trauma forced him to relive the scariest moments of his life over and over, whether he liked it or not.  It's not like he hadn't tried to go back to sleep before, even if his dreams had caused him to wake in a cold sweat more times than he cared to mention.  But every time he tried he found himself too...awake, for a lack of a better term.  His mind had already been tossed into fight or flight mode and it would take a while for it to return back.  He had no choice but to wait it out every night.  Most times he would just lie there, motionless, staring up until he felt his eyes begin to droop, but he found himself too bored this time.  He had the need to move, do something.  The memory of his nightmare flashed in his mind and he'd rather distract himself from it than let it fester.

He hoisted himself into a sitting position, groaning as he felt his sore muscles tense.  The days of fighting and running around had left quite the toll on him and he could no doubt feel it.  He looked around groggily.  They were still in the rocket launch room, the "Science Team," as Coomer had called them, was sleeping peacefully, although they looked like they were in the most uncomfortable poses.  He chuckled slightly at the sight, though quickly regretted that as he felt his chest ache.  He let out a sigh and glanced over at the windows.  He couldn't make out much, as the moon and the stars were the only light illuminating the outside.  He did, however, notice the outline of a figure.  He almost jumped out of his skin when it moved to look at him.  He was taken quite aback at first when he saw who it was.

"Wuh...Benrey?  Is that you?" he asked hesitantly.

"In the flesh." Benrey replied in his unmistakable stoic voice.

"But...how?" Gordon started, puzzled.

"How what bro?  You gotta finish your sentences, Feetman."  Gordon huffed slightly at the jab.

"I mean- how are you here?  Didn't you get, y'know, incinerated by the rocket?"

"I jus' respawned bro.  Like a..uhhh...video game character or whatever.  Like Steve minecraft."

"Right, right, you can't die..."  He let out a long sigh and stared past Benrey, out at the sky, or at least what he could see of it.  "What are you doing up this late anyway?  Shouldn't you be sleeping?"  Benrey glanced at him, almost a glint of… confusion In his eyes.  He quickly shook his head though and went back to staring into nothing.

"Gotta keep watch brooo, can't let any of those military dudes get y- get us."

"I guess that makes sense..."  There was silence as Gordon struggled to come up with something to talk about.  He wasn't particularly a bad conversationalist, per se, but when it came to Benrey you never know what could send him into a flurry of nonsense.  It was like traversing a minefield, one wrong word and he'd become incomprehensible...well, more than he already was.  His stream of thought was cut short, however, by a high pitch sound that made his nose scrunch.  He turned back to Benrey, who was surrounded by colorful orbs of light that started at pleasant orange and dipped into a light blue.  They glowed faintly around him, lighting him up in an almost majestic way.  But as quickly as they had appeared they faded.  Gordon sat there for a moment before shaking his head slightly.  "Orange to blue?  What does that mean?"  Benrey looked at Gordon for a moment, almost contemplating, before stating-

"Orange to blue means a song for youu"

"So you're just...singing?"

"Yeah bro.  What, you got a problem with my singing or something?  Lil Feetman can't stand my tunes?"  Gordon growled at the comment.

"No I juST-"  Before he got any further with his sentence he took a deep breath and sighed, which prompted Benrey with a slightly puzzled look.  He glanced away as he stated "It just surprised me is all, usually they have meanings or something, or they like- have some purpose.  I didn't expect them to be for entertainment.. and your singing is pretty nice actually.."  Gordon was almost baffled at his own words.  It was unlike him to compliment Benrey, especially after he had just insulted him.  And, when he glanced back up at Benrey, it appeared he was caught off guard as well.  He let out a high pitched pink and quickly turned away.  "Pink?  What does pink mean?

"Itmeansyou- you stink!" Benrey quickly retorted, still turned away.  Gordon let out a huff of annoyance.  Just when he thought he was getting on some kind of good terms with Benrey.  He shuffled to his feet, giving a glance a Benrey.  He had turned back to look at Gordon but unfortunately his face wasn't lit, and Gordon couldn't tell if he was smugly smirking or not.  He turned away and made for the door that led outside, he figured it'd be best to get some fresh air.

He made it over to a comfortable looking ledge, or at least as comfortable looking as a ledge can get, and sat down, gazing out into the sky.  Gordon hadn't really gotten the chance to look at the night the past few days, what with being stuck in the stuffy halls of Black Mesa and all, so it was nice to finally relax and gaze out at the stars.  Of course, it wasn't long before Benrey was making his way over to antagonize him some more.  He plopped himself down beside Gordon, a rather blank expression on his face as he stared at him.

"What, have you come to insult me some more or something?"

"Naw bro just gazin' " he replied nonchalantly, though Gordon could swear he saw the slightest flicker of hesitance in his eyes.  He sighed and stared back out at the stars with Benrey.

It was sorta nice to just sit in silence and let his mind wander, even if Benrey was right there beside him.  As he let his thoughts drift he slowly came back to the sweet voice.  It was quite the marvel honestly, and he wondered why he hadn't questioned it before.  Benrey wasn't human, that was obvious, but how exactly did he get the sweet voice?  Was he born with it?  Was it something he learned?  Was the sweet voice even learnable?  He knew Tommy could read it but he wasn't sure he himself could use the sweet voice.  Actually, how could Tommy even read the sweet voice?  Who taught him how to?  Benrey?  Why would Benrey teach him how to read sweet voice?  Now that he thought about it Benrey never really explained the sweet voice at all.  Gordon knew it had properties, that was for sure considering it magically calmed his nerves countless of times before, but outside of that it was more or less a mystery.  Benrey seemed to be the only bearer of it though and nobody had ever really asked to know more about it...maybe all he had to do was ask and Benrey would tell him?

"Hey Benrey?"

"Wuh?"

"How exactly does the Black Mesa Sweet Voice...work?  Like- how do you read it?  What do the different colors mean?"  Benrey seemed to freeze for a moment before tipping his head to side with a smile, glancing away.

"That's classified info ffffeetman."

"What do you mean it's classified?  Are you going by Dr. Coomer's logic because I'm pretty sure that doesn't apply in our situation anymore-"

"Sorry bro, can't break the Black Mesa roolzzz."

"Why would Black Mesa issue a rule for the entire facility that only applies to ONE person?"  Benrey simply shrugged, which only further enraged Gordon.  He was about to speak again when Benrey promptly covered his mouth with his hand and stared Gordon down.

"Look bbbro I can't tell you, it's as simple as that, ok?  Just chill..." He removed his hand from Gordon's mouth and stared back up at the sky calmly, his stern look gone.  Gordon gave a grumpy huff and turned away, staring towards the ground.  Benrey glanced over at him, and looked towards the ground himself.  There was a moment of silence before it was Benrey who was the one to break it this time.  "You said you couldn't like....'sleep' or whatever right?"  Benrey asked, catching Gordon off guard.

"Yeah..?  And?"

"Just like- wait with your eyes closed for like.....uhhh.......5 seconds broo you'll see."  Gordon turned slightly to glance at Benrey from the corner of his eye, curious.

"Why do I have to close my eyes?  What are you gonna do?"

"It's- It- It'll be like....a big surprise yooo.  Epic surprise, super poggers.  You wouldn't wanna ruin the surprise now would you?  Be a lil- lil party pooper- lil bitch baby man and ruin the surprise?"  Gordon gave a long sigh and, though he hated following Benrey's orders, covered his eyes.  There were a few moments of silence before Gordon could hear the distinct sound of the Sweet Voice.  It lasted for quite some time and Gordon had to use a good portion of his self-restraint to peak through his hands at what in the world Benrey was doing.  Why would he have him cover his eyes if it's just the sweet voice?

"Ok broo you can like- open you socket stuffers now"  Gordon cringed at that usage of words but removed his hands from his eyes regardless.  He was...stunned.. baffled.. amazed.. it was a range of emotions to say the least.  Benrey had somehow managed to spread a wide variety of pinks, oranges, and blues all across the sky above them like little fireflies.  They showered the area in a faint glow that looked..incredible and Gordon couldn't help but stare in awe.

"Benrey... you... how.. why'd you.."  Benrey settled down beside Gordon as he spoke.

"You said you couldn't sleep bro, doesn't uhh... pretty stuff help people sleep?"

"I mean I guess I just... I never expected you to.."  Gordon's words drifted away as he stared.

"What d'ya think tho?  Pretty poggers right?"  Gordon paused before turning to face Benrey as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Benrey it's... it's beautiful."  Benrey paused for a moment, almost as if he was processing what had been said before turning away, covering his mouth to keep any sweet voice from escaping.

"Well- psh- yeah duh.  I mean it's- ahaha- it's like...supposed to be bro.  Be pretty pointless if it wasn't, right?"  Gordon let out a hearty laugh at Benrey's response.

"Yeah, I guess so."  They stared up at the now colorful sky for a long while before Gordon spoke again.  "Hey Benrey could you..."  he paused hesitantly.  "Could you sing for me?"

"...Huh?"  Gordon quickly tried to make the situation less awkward by elaborating.

"Could you- could you sing for me?  To like- help me sleep?  Music usually helps people sleep and the Sweet Voice is pretty calming and I was just thinking-" before he could finish his sentence Benrey abruptly cut him off.

"Sure bro"  He began to sing out blue's and oranges once more and Gordon found that, while looking at the colorful orbs in the sky, though there weren't much left, and listening to Benrey's voice, he felt very peaceful for once.  It had been days since he had felt even a smidgen of peace and somehow, sitting here with Benrey, it was stronger than ever.  As he felt himself relax, leaning onto Benrey, his eyes began to droop and soon he was plunged back into the dream world.

[twokinkybeans]

COLD COFFEE - WINTERIRONSPIDER VAMPIRE!AU

Summary: “How good could one person really-” Tony freezes, eyes wide, nose twitching. Time seems to stop for a moment and it’s only when he spots Bucky’s grin from the corner of his eyes that he finishes his sentence. “-smell.” It’s exquisite. Intense. The only thing clawing at Tony’s mind right now is the need to know where the source is. His mouth salivates and his canines ache to push out. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, Bucky speaks. “That’s him.” “I figured,” Tony replies through gritted teeth. He turns his head to look at Bucky with his jaw tightened. “Why would you want to share him?” Tony scoffs. “You could’ve had this all to yourself.” A wide smile spreads on Bucky’s face and it’s only now that Tony realizes that the tables have turned. The power has been shifted. Bucky unhooks his arm from Tony’s and cups the man’s face. “Oh, Tony,” he sighs. The look in his icy blue eyes is resolute. “I want to keep him.” 

.

Notes: Hi everyone! I've been working on this one shot since MAY! At a whopping 24890 words, it’s the longest one shot I’ve ever written on my own! It's also probably my favourite fic I have /ever/ written because it's the most self indulgent one and I had to take breaks in between writing cause it was too much omg. Half of this one shot is plot. The other half is smut. Good luck! I'm actually quite anxious sharing this, since it's so personal to me. I hope you all enjoy! <3

-Lien

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Warnings: Adult!Peter Parker, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Consensual Mind Control, Vampire!AU, Slight Dubcon at first but it’s Consensual Sex, NSFW, Smut/Fluff/Angst, Vampire!Bucky, Vampire!Tony, Human!Peter, Poor Peter, Dream Sex, Masturbation, Shower Masturbation, Anal Sex, Shower Sex, Oral, Dirty Talk, Morally Grey Characters, Rough Sex, BDSM, Master/Slave

Read Cold Coffee on AO3!

Or on Wattpad!

Peter Benjamin Parker The dog area in Central Park is the only place where Peter gets to unwind after a long day of doing unsatisfying labour in a commercial bakery. His alarm went at three this morning and with the other job he has lined up for tonight, he’s fairly sure he won’t see his bed until that exact same time, twenty-four hours later. He’s used to it at this point. His weekends simply look like this. Bakery work during the week and extra waiting jobs at events on Friday and Saturday night. Sleep all Sunday and start the grind again on Monday morning, three AM.  Since the dog area is right next to the bakery, he usually spends about half an hour there after work, just to relax for a bit. Get his smile back on his face. And though he would love to go straight home to crash and nap before tonight’s gala, he wants to give some well-deserving furry friends some pats. Right when he decides he wants to go home to get his needed between-sleep, someone screams. “MY DOG!” Peter looks up, only to see a large Dobermann jump the fence and make a break for it. Before Peter could put his thoughts in one line, he’s already on his feet, leaping over the fence himself and initiating the chase to help the owner get their dog back.  The dog is fast. Faster than Peter’s legs can go. His lungs ache in his chest and his reaching is pointless. He’ll never catch this dog. As a last resort, he shouts at the people in front of the four-legged rocket.  “Somebody, please, stop that dog!” Most people ignore Peter, as is to be expected. It’s still New York. One man, however, turns. He’s in the middle of the path and the dog is headed straight for him. His half long, brown hair is tucked neatly behind his ears and he’s wearing a long, stylish, wool trench coat and leather gloves. His eyebrows raise and the coffee he holds is quickly discarded; dropped on the ground and spilling everywhere, as he braces himself for the coming impact.  The Dobermann tries to swiftly evade the man. Peter blinks once and suddenly, the dog is stuck between the man’s arms, his grip tight. The dog yelps and struggles, baring his teeth with a growl. Peter slows down his pace slightly, the exhausted muscles in his body grateful that he can stop sprinting. The man flicks his head, the hair behind his ear now covering his face and soon after, the dog’s tail shoots between its legs, its growls turning into soft whines. When Peter’s close enough, his jog turns into a walk. “Thank you so much,” he exclaims through his panting. The man turns his head up to look at Peter and something seems to flash over his face for a split second. It’s a strange expression Peter’s never seen before and a strange tingle settles in his body. The unreadable look soon turns into a kind smile. The man’s grin is wide and white, with defined canine teeth. He has a short beard, well taken care of, and the bluest eyes. “This yours?” He asks as he slowly pets the dog, who’s gone strangely quiet. He stands up and hands the leash to Peter, who doesn’t notice the man’s touch lingering. He’s too caught up in the adrenaline of the chase, his heart still beating fast, pumping his blood through his body at a rapid pace in order to keep up with the sudden need for fuel. His stomach screams, having been empty so long. He shouldn’t have chased this dog, he didn’t have the energy for it. Yet he did. Simply because it’s the right thing to do. “No-” Peter scoffs a laugh, shaking his head and clenching the leash in one hand. “Well, I, eh-” He frowns, pointing back towards the dog area with both thumbs, trying to figure out how to explain the situation in as few words as possible. “Tori!” A woman shouts. She approaches the two men and the dog quickly, and lets out an exasperated, loud sigh. “Thank, God! You caught him- Thank you, boy!” Peter turns with an apologetic look on his face to tell the woman it was actually the other man who caught the dog, but he speaks first. “It was a spectacular catch, ma’am. He’s quite athletic.” “But-” “Ooh, thank you, thank you!” The woman wraps her arms around Peter, who tenses up and stares at the man wide-eyed, lips pressed on top of each other. When she finally lets go of Peter, she takes the leash out of his hand. “Have a wonderful day, boy.” “So, that’s it?” The man scoffs, causing the woman to look at him confused. “You’re just going to take the dog and leave?” “Well, it’s my dog.” “This young man just caught your dog for you. And all you say is thank you. Don’t you think he deserves a reward?” “Excuse you?” The lady straightens her back, her posture turning defensive. “It’s okay, sir, please,” Peter turns to the man with a pleading look in his eye and, once again, before he can think about what he’s doing, he rests his hand on the man’s upper arm. A shiver shoots through Peter’s entire being as he stares at the intense expression on the man’s face. Their gazes are locked and Peter’s thoughts cloud momentarily. Time seems to halt and the man speaks under his breath. “Let go.” Peter blinks a few times and it takes a second before he realizes he has pulled his arm back in. His thumb caresses his fingers on the same hand, the feeling of the man’s wool coat still lingering on the tips. The humming background noise of New York City fills Peter’s ears again and part of him wonders what happened. When he completely returns to earth, he turns, only to find the woman and the Dobermann gone. He frowns. When did she leave? Weren’t they in the middle of something? And where’s- Peter shivers when there’s a sudden cool breath tickling the back of his neck. He pivots quickly and has to tilt his head to look into a pair of icy blue eyes. The man smiles kindly and Peter subconsciously mirrors him; the corners of his mouth curling up to match the man’s expression. The strange, floaty feeling returns slightly. Something in the back of Peter’s head tells him he should be scared. But he’s not. It feels… Kind of good. “Are you okay?” The man asks. Peter’s eyes flutter and he takes a slow breath. “Y-yeah?” His voice is shaky. Soft. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t look away from the man’s eyes.  “What’s your name?” “Peter.” His reply is nothing more than a whisper. “Pretty Peter,” the man mumbles. “I think it’s better if you go home. There are a lot of predators out there.” If Peter really cared, he would wonder why this stranger is saying these things to him. But he doesn’t. In fact; he couldn’t care less. The eyes are too mesmerising. The man frowns and once again, Peter mirrors the expression. “Forget the last five minutes.” The man suddenly clears his throat and takes a step back. Peter snaps out of whatever he was in and he takes a breath of fresh air, head tilting down to look at the asphalt path below him to ground himself. He turns, only to find the woman and the Dobermann gone. He frowns. When did she leave? Weren’t they in the middle of something? And where’s- wait… Déjà vu? “Peter,” the man says. Peter looks at the man and smiles brightly. Right, he was here too. The man nods and presses his lips on top of each other. “Name’s James. Call me Bucky.” “Oh! Sir-” Peter steps forward and fiddles with his fingers. “Nice to meet you.” He doesn’t remember telling the man- Bucky- his name, but he doesn’t question it. A realization hits him and he shifts to look at the spilled coffee on the path. “Ah- your coffee-” “-Was already cold.” Peter scoffs. “That’s not the point, though.” He walks away from Bucky and bends down to pick up the empty cup. “I made you drop it. I owe you one.” Surprise flashes over Bucky’s face and Peter shuffles back to him, raising the cup to hold it between their faces. His eyes peek over to look into Bucky’s and he smiles. “I insist.” “Peter-” “Please.” Bucky’s jaw tightens for a second and he sucks in a breath. He then scoffs and shakes his head, closing his eyes and raising his eyebrows. When he looks back up at Peter again, there’s a mischievous sparkle there and Peter’s smile grows wider. “I have some things to take care of right now, but how does three o’clock sound?” Peter nods eagerly, somehow forgetting he’s supposed to be taking a nap. “Perfect!” He’s about to walk away when he realizes he doesn’t know anything but this man’s name. “Meet up again here?”  “Sounds good to me, doll .” A shiver runs down Peter’s spine, but his smile doesn’t falter. When he initially mentioned the coffee, he genuinely meant to pay it back, but now… It kind of feels like a date. “See you at three?” Peter skips once as he walks away in the direction of his apartment. Bucky nods and licks his lips. “Three.” James Buchanan Barnes Let go. He’d said. Let go. He didn’t want Peter to let go of him. He didn’t even want to let the boy walk away. But he did. He did, and he hates himself for it. He’s never this flustered around humans. He’s always focussed, confident and in control. Yet, the second he caught a whiff of Peter’s scent Bucky knew he was a goner. Knew he had to have him. Never in his afterlife had he ever smelled, seen, sensed someone as utterly captivating as Peter. Everything about the boy screamed at Bucky to split him in two on his cock and suck his veins dry until they’d burn. The last conscious thing Peter would do, is have the most intense orgasm he’s ever had and then his lifeless body would slump against Bucky’s chest. The man would hold him until he grows cold and… and… No. Bucky doesn’t want him to die. Wait. What? His feral urges want him to do everything he would usually do to his prey, except for the killing, which was odd since his entire existence is based on just that. The pick, the hunt, the seduction, the sucking, the sex… Always followed by death. Though, this time it’s different. Peter is different. Bucky is certain he’d go insane if that invigorating smell would be gone forever.  Maybe that’s why he let him go. Peter’s too precious to kill. Too… delicious. God, he must be delicious. Bucky can only imagine what he tastes like and he wonders why he didn’t steal a sip when the boy let go for him. He’s absolutely starving, given that he didn’t hunt yesterday because he was simply too lazy to. Oh, the regrets. Obviously , Bucky wanted Peter to just let go of his arm, yet the boy’s subconscious took it a step further.  “Let go,” Bucky had said. But instead of just uncurling his fingers from Bucky’s arm, Peter immediately slipped into pure submission. He let go of himself . The look on his face was everything to Bucky and his cock twitches at the mere idea of seeing it again. He still doesn’t understand why he didn’t just take Peter home. The boy obviously needs a good fuck, based on his response to the compulsion, and Bucky knows he is a good fuck. They would both get what they desire so much.  But no. Part of him wants to see how far he can take this. Would he even need to manipulate the boy’s mind, or is a smirk and a wink enough for Peter to fall to his knees? Probably. He looked so pretty, though. Jaw slacked, deep brown eyes glazed over as his mind turned off and his body turned on, listening to Bucky’s every word as he was told to wait until Bucky’d gotten rid of the ungrateful witch and her pathetic goblin of a dog. He could watch Peter float inside himself for hours. Who knows, he might even do that at some point. For now, though, he watches how Peter quickly jumps out of the subway train, evading other people who try to catch it before the doors close. Bucky keeps his distance, but he sticks close enough to keep Peter’s intoxicating scent in his nose. He stalks, enjoying how Peter sometimes looks back with a frown, looking for the source that makes him feel like he’s being watched. The boy knows he’s being followed and Bucky relishes in that part of the hunt. The uneasiness that the prey feels. Followed by the fear of the confrontation, which soon turns to immeasurable pleasure and then- no. No death. Not with Peter. After a short walk, Peter cuts into an alleyway. Bucky frowns and holds back for a bit, not wanting Peter to turn around on him in the alley. He takes the pause to have a look around, now his eyes are no longer strained on the frail, small body of his prey. They’re quite a bit away from the city center and the neighborhood is… Not great. Something about that irks Bucky. Why would a sweet, soft boy like Peter live in a place like this? When Bucky cuts the corner to follow him further, a door closes. Peter went inside one of the buildings. Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose. He’s slightly startled when the smell suddenly grows more intense and he looks up to where it’s coming from. A small window opened. Bucky smiles. There he is. Bucky crosses the street, quietly joking that he’s doing it to get to the other side, and swiftly climbs the building. He settles on the roof, hiding behind the heightened ledge and stares intently at Peter, who checks his phone at the opened window. Bucky suppresses the urge to quote Romeo and Juliet and flares his nostrils. His eyes roll back when the sweet, sweet scent of Peter fills his lungs. He studies Peter from afar. The boy is talking to himself, which has Bucky wondering if he’s lonely. He’s alone, that’s for sure. Peter grabs a tin can and sits down on his bed next to the window. Bucky frowns when Peter tips the can, a few dollars and a couple of pennies fall out of it. Peter bends down to put the can on the floor, for a lack of table in his little studio, and picks up the bills and coins to count. Bucky’s barely beating heart squeezes. The kid’s poor. Very poor. And now he’s counting this week’s cash in the hopes of having enough to buy Bucky a coffee. An expensive, useless, New York coffee. One he’d let go cold, just like all his other beverages. When Peter has gathered all the money, opting to just put all of the tin can’s contents in his bag as it’s only just enough for one overpriced coffee anyways, he flops down flat on his bed. “Thirty minutes…” Bucky can hear him mumble as he sets an alarm. Somehow Bucky hoped Peter would use those thirty minutes to play with his dick, but no. Peter closes his eyes, face relaxing almost immediately as he drops into a dreamless sleep. For now. Bucky shifts so he can see Peter more clearly and he can’t help but be amazed at how quickly Peter’s breathing steadied. He must’ve been exhausted. Bucky wonders when Peter had enjoyed himself last. Not sexually. Just generally. He smiled at Bucky, sure, but that was after Bucky turned off his brain for a minute or two. He’d chased a dog for some hag who didn’t actually put in the energy to catch her own pet, can barely scrape together ten dollars for a cold coffee for someone who doesn’t even deserve it and needs a nap in the middle of the day. Nobody his age should need to take a nap in the middle of the day. Worries must be clouding his mind so much that even the smallest suggestion to free himself from his anxious thoughts is enough to snap his willpower in half. A strong sense of pity urges Bucky to glance around the street to check if anybody would see him. When he confirms the coast is clear, it only takes him a second to jump over the road, get inside, and crouch down besides Peter’s bed. The smell is absolutely overwhelming. The entire room is drenched in the boy’s perfume and Bucky opens his mouth to taste it on his tongue. He glides it past his teeth and licks his lips before turning his attention to Peter. His jaw is slacked again, but his face is not as relaxed as it was when Bucky had complete control over him. Every fiber in Bucky’s body wants him to touch Peter’s face. Trace the lines of his veins from his neck down to his wrist. But he doesn’t. If the boy needs sleep, he needs sleep. That doesn’t mean Bucky won’t help him have the best thirty minute nap Peter has ever had.  Bucky inches closer, practicing the most self restraint he’s ever had to do, fighting his urges to sink his teeth into Peter’s exposed neck. He opens his mouth and releases a cold breath on Peter’s face. The boy’s eyebrow twitches. Bucky grins when his little magic starts doing its work. Peter relaxes even further and sighs. The corners of his mouth curl up and Bucky wants to kiss them. Press his cold lips against Peter’s warm smile. He holds back though, and closes his own eyes to guide Peter through his dream. Peter Benjamin Parker Peter opens his eyes, quietly frustrated that he can’t sleep. He doesn’t want to sleep. All he can think of is the strange man he met. How relaxed he made him feel. How nice. Bucky . There’s a tingling feeling in Peter’s abdomen and he licks his lips, taking a shaky breath. It doesn’t take him long to decide what to do in that half hour, knowing he won’t be able to sleep anyways. He takes off his pants, discarding them to the side, and puts his pillow against the wall. He rests his head against it, sitting slightly more upright so he can open his laptop. He puts in his password and opens his browser in incognito mode. With one hand, he scrolls through what Pornhub has to offer, while palming his dick through his underwear with the other. It’s already half-hard and Peter whimpers quietly when his thumb brushes over the clothed head. His eyes roll back and flutter shut as he squeezes the shaft, stifling a moan.  “Don’t hold back…” a voice says quietly. Peter’s mouth opens wide to let out the sound he was suppressing. He doesn’t recall hitting play on any porn, but he doesn’t really care. Whatever video he clicked on, the audio of it went straight to his cock. He keeps his eyes closed, continuing to palm himself. His hips start rolling slowly. Rhythmically. He’s only half-aware it’s at the same pace as his heartbeat, thumping through his dick. “You look so pretty when you enjoy yourself,” the voice whispers. It’s close, which Peter doesn’t really get. His laptop is next to his hip, how is he hearing the man speak right next to his ear? The man. Peter’s body twitches when he realizes he’s hearing Bucky. Bucky is saying all these sweet things to him. Bucky. “Does that feel good?” Bucky asks softly and Peter can’t help but nod, face contorting with pleasure. Because it does; it feels amazing. “Mmm…” Bucky’s hum vibrates through Peter’s body and he automatically squeezes his dick a little tighter. His free hand moves up to pinch his nipple. Suddenly, two cold hands pull down Peter’s underwear. One feels like skin, yet the other… Is that metal? The boy’s hips buck up involuntarily. “P-please,” he whispers. He’s unable to open his eyes and the situation has him thoroughly confused. How could his imagination seem so real? So vivid. It feels so good. “ Oh ,” Bucky exclaims quietly. Teasingly. “You beg so nicely.” Peter jolts when cold fingers curl around his shaft. His own hand immediately loses tension and falls onto the mattress. He didn’t even need to be asked. He wants to give in. So bad. Suddenly, soft lips press against his slacked jaw. Peter raises the hand that was playing with his nipple to cup the face of whoever’s kissing him, but there’s nothing there. Right. This is his imagination. He’s getting off to the idea of Bucky jerking him off. The man’s not actually here. "Beg some more, would you?” Bucky whispers and Peter’s muscles tense when the man starts pumping slowly. Both of Peter’s hands are helplessly laying next to him. He couldn’t even move them if he tried. Peter gasps under the attention and bucks his hips up into the tight grip of his imagination. How could something that’s not actually there, feel so real? “Please, feels so good, please- don’t stop-” His fists grasp at the sheets and he writhes on his mattress. “Not planning to, doll .” Peter could hear the grin in Bucky’s voice. “ Relax for me …” Bucky teases Peter’s ear with his deep voice, leaving kitten licks on the shell between his sentences. Peter’s body grows heavier and heavier with each stroke of Bucky’s hand. “ Let me take all your worries away …” Bucky increases the speed of his pumps and Peter moans obscenely. There’s a soft chuckle next to Peter, but he can’t open his eyes. He just can’t. Not when Bucky’s hands and kisses caress his body. Not when Bucky’s voice is like heavy honey, keeping him in place. “Do you want that?” Bucky asks softly. Peter has already half forgotten what Bucky is referencing to. All he knows is that his answer is the truth. “Yes- yes, please, take it. Take it all.” Bucky’s hand goes even faster, making Peter’s cock spurt precum onto his stomach. The man twists his wrist expertly as he pumps, pressing his thumb into the tip each time he reaches it. Peter’s a sweaty mess. His toes curl with every thrust he makes in the hopes of gaining even more friction. “ Such a good boy ,” Bucky whispers. His wandering mouth reaches Peter’s neck and leaves an open, wet kiss, suckling at the skin. After less than a minute of mercilessly squeezing Peter’s throbbing shaft, the room smells of sex. Peter knows his neighbors could hear him. But he doesn’t care. Wants to give all his worries to Bucky. The man’s voice orders: “ Open your eyes .” Peter does so and is immediately captivated by the stunning blue irises right in front of him. Is… Is this real? Is he not imagining this? Bucky smirks and Peter lets out a sob. He’s close. So close. Bucky’s words and actions have turned Peter into a desperate, wailing mess. “That’s it, Peter… Give yourself to me. Let go. ” Peter’s eyes shoot wide open at his alarm. He bolts to sit upright, chest heaving, and he looks down at the damp patch in his pants. He was right at the edge and he’s certain he would’ve come if that horrible alarm didn’t snap him out of it. It takes him a minute to let the adrenaline of the edge fade away. He considers getting off quickly. Just pull out his dick and hump into his hand until he explodes onto his sheets. But he can’t. He’s already late. He kicks his pants and underpants off and tosses them into the corner. His throbbing cock bounces against his abdomen as he hops into a new pair of underwear. He’s so horny it hurts . That dream was strangely intense. It felt so real. But it wasn’t. Bucky wasn’t here. Bucky’s at Central Park, waiting for Peter to show up. Peter hopes that next time he gets to get off, he’ll be able to dream like that again. He’s not even sure if he can look Bucky in the eye after this. For now, though, he considers excusing himself to go to the bathroom once he and Bucky get to the coffee shop. At least he won’t be too late then and he can still rub his painful erection away. He puts on his shoes and grabs his bag - double checking if he put in the twelve dollars and 70 pence he had left - before grabbing his phone and shutting the door behind him to rush to the subway. James Buchanan Barnes Bucky pushes up his sleeve to look at the time on his Rolex. As if he didn’t arrive a minute before Peter did and he had been standing in their established meeting spot for over ten minutes. He’s the reason Peter’s late. Not that he minds. Everything about Peter was absolute heaven in that little bedroom. Bucky hadn’t laid a finger on him. He just watched the boy as his body responded to the images Bucky put in Peter’s head. The only word Bucky could use to describe his new obsession is… Delicious . He looks delicious, he sounds delicious, he smells delicious and Bucky is sure that Peter would taste delicious too. For some reason Bucky still denies himself that pleasure. The number of opportunities he’s had to sink his teeth into Peter’s skin is laughable at this point. Other creatures like him would even be embarrassed. Bucky isn’t, though. Everything about Peter is too good to spoil. And so, he waits. He’s not entirely sure what for, but he waits nonetheless. “Bucky!” The man pulls down his sleeve again and looks up at his boy with a smile. His eye twitches once. Peter is his boy. Peter jogs, slightly out of stamina, cheeks rosy, hair tousled and clothes slightly disheveled. “Peter,” Bucky says quickly. Politely. “I was wondering where you were.” “I- eh,” Peter stammers and he stops right in front of Bucky, scratching the back of his head. “I have no good excuse, I’m sorry.” “Oh?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow playfully and smirks. “Now I’m curious.” Peter gulps and the red flush on his cheeks extends to his ears. Cute. Bucky thinks. “It’s nothing special-” Peter tries. “I just took a nap.” Bucky presses his lips on top of each other in a smile. He glances at the path ahead of them and nods in that direction. Peter follows Bucky’s gaze and returns the smile slightly before taking the first step, initiating a walk through the park. “I can’t help but notice the change of pants.” Bucky clears his throat and he can feel Peter’s muscles tense again. “And the lack of a coat. In November.” “I spilled in- on! On my jeans.” Peter slaps his forehead, but attempts to hide the gesture by pushing his fingers through his hair. “Coffee!” He yelps. “Yes, coffee.” A terrible excuse that makes absolutely zero sense. Cute. Bucky thinks. Again. “Alright, doll .” Bucky smirks, baring his teeth and Peter sucks in a breath. Bucky knows Peter’s alibi isn’t solid, but Bucky won’t pry further. He knows what’s up. Bucky doesn’t even have to look at Peter’s crotch to know that it’s still up. “And I assume the lack of coat is because you were late?” “I’m not cold if that’s what you’re asking.” Peter immediately contradicts his words by hugging his bare arms. The nerdy T-shirt is obviously not enough. Bucky scoffs to himself, taking off his leather gloves and only half ignoring Peter’s stare resting on his metal hand. Right, the boy had only seen the prosthetic in his dream, not in real life. This must be quite the mindfuck for him. Bucky puts the gloves in the pockets of his coat. He can’t believe he’s doing this.  One by one he opens the buttons of his sleek, wool trench coat and shakes it off his broad shoulders, revealing his grey three piece suit. Peter immediately stops in his tracks and raises his hands in front of him. “No, no, it’s okay!” Peter looks at Bucky’s fingers curled around the fabric. “It’s my own fault for forgetting.” When he tilts his head up to look Bucky in the eye, Bucky grasps him with his stare. “ Hold still. ” Peter’s frozen in place as Bucky walks around him, placing his coat over Peter’s shoulders. Bucky squeezes Peter’s upper arms as he leans over his shoulder. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.” “Cold…?” Bucky swears inwardly at Peter’s whisper. The coat should’ve been warm. It’s not. Cause he’s not. Bucky quickly hooks his arm into Peter’s and continues their walk, hoping Peter won’t ask any questions about it. However, when he realizes how close Peter is to him, his brain stutters. Just like when he was in Peter’s room, the smell is overwhelming and he now knows his growing thirst is certainly insatiable. How could he ever get enough? Could he stop when he starts? Could- “Are you okay?” Peter’s voice is small, just like his body against Bucky’s. “Yeah.” Bucky sniffs once, a habit he picked up spending time with Tony. Right . He was going to have to tell Tony about Peter. He looks down at the boy, who - in turn - looks back up at him with his big, beautiful brown eyes. A smile creeps onto Bucky’s face at the realization that he gets to share Peter with Tony. If Peter wants to, he reminds himself. Though, with how the boy’s been responding to Bucky, he’s fairly certain Peter would eagerly be dominated by both of them. “Just a little lost in thought, I suppose,” Bucky mumbles. “Something on your mind?” Bucky didn’t expect the honest question and before he can think of a better reply, his mouth has already said the word. “You.” Peter’s eyes widen slightly before he tilts his head to look down at his feet. Bucky guesses it’s to hide his everlasting flushed cheeks. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “You’re on my mind too,” Peter admits. Bucky would’ve laughed if it hadn’t sounded so utterly innocent.  “Hm,” is all he manages to reply. Bucky guides Peter to the exit of the park and nods at the coffee shop across the street. “You up for a cup?” He grins at Peter, who chuckles at the rhyme. “I think I’ll pass, but I still need to get you yours.” Bucky nearly forgot; the boy can only afford one coffee. “Peter.” Bucky’s tone is stern and Peter looks up at him with curled brows, wondering if he did or said something wrong. “I’m paying.” Peter tries to struggle free from Bucky’s grip, but the man won’t let him get away. “What? No! I made you drop your coffee, I’m not gonna make you pay for it, I-” “I’m paying. ” Peter’s lips squeeze on top of each other and before his mind catches up with what’s happening, he nods and lets himself be guided to the shop. . The coffee shop is cosy. Quaint. Bucky had let go of Peter to open the door for him. He quietly stalks behind the boy and can’t help but smile. Though it’s warm, Peter still hugs Bucky’s coat around him. It’s too big on him, which makes him look absolutely adorable. Peter tilts his head up, flaring his nostrils and taking a deep breath in through his nose with his eyes closed.  “Smells so good,” he sighs softly. Bucky stares at him, pretending that Peter’s soft moan didn’t surge through him. He knows Peter was talking about the baked goods, but Bucky can’t really smell anything but Peter. “You do.” “Hm?” Peter opens his eyes to look at Bucky, who clears his throat in an attempt to hide how flustered his own error made him. “It does,” he says quickly. “Apple-cinnamon.” He’s not smelling any of that, but given the time of the year, it’s his best guess. Peter smiles and nods, but Bucky doesn’t miss the expression faltering when Peter turns to look at all the displayed foods on the counter. Oh, no.

“Hungry?” Bucky asks softly, not wanting to make Peter uncomfortable.  “A little,” Peter mumbles. He doesn’t dare to look at Bucky, feeling slightly embarrassed. His eyes are strained on the many cakes and cookies. “When’s the last time you ate?” The question seems to startle Peter and he finally looks at Bucky again. “What, a meal? Or-” “Christ, kid, anything.” Peter shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and fiddles with his fingers. “I mean… I had some popcorn yesterday.” He frowns slightly. “Or was that the day before?” “You’re telling me you don’t remember when you last had anything to eat?” “Please, Bucky, I’m not here to be pitied. Let’s just get the coffee.” Peter wants to step further inside but Bucky’s rough hand turns him by his shoulder and the boy’s knees nearly give in when Bucky makes eye contact. “If you could eat anything. Right now. What would you want?” “What-?” “Answer the question.” “Spaghetti Bolognese.” Bucky’s heart squeezes. The kid could ask for the most elaborate of meals. Buffets with endless options, an all you can eat menu... He could’ve asked for sushi, or Turkish bread. Yet, what he wants most is a basic plate of spaghetti with red sauce. Peter hides his face behind his hands and wiggles free from Bucky’s grasp. “I’m sorry, that’s stupid.” “It’s not.” Bucky frowns. “I just wonder why?” Peter visibly swallows and looks down at his feet. “My aunt always made that for me.” He chuckles, but his eyes betray his sadness. “She’s- she was a terrible cook. She could only make spaghetti.” “And your aunt…?” “Passed away three months ago.” Peter takes a deep breath and clears his throat to collect himself. “Cancer.” “I’m sorry,” Bucky mutters sincerely. “Is there no one you can go to?” Peter purses his lips and shakes his head with a quiet scoff. “Parents died when I was ten. My uncle died when I was fifteen. May was all I’d left.” Peter’s brows curl up into a frown and he turns away from Bucky even further. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.” “You’re alone,” Bucky states. The spoken truth seems to sting Peter. “Is that why you wanted to buy me the coffee?” Peter bites his lip. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Bucky stares at Peter for a second, before offering his hand to the boy. “Do you want to go get some spaghetti with me?” He doesn’t know why he wouldn’t compel Peter to just join him, whether the boy wants to or not. Perhaps he wants to see if Peter would take his hand without being urged to. He hopes so. Peter looks at Bucky’s hand, visibly holding back tears. “I can’t afford it.” “I can.” Bucky gives Peter an encouraging smile and he can’t help but feel both surprised and victorious when Peter’s fingers hesitantly curl around his palm. Bucky leads Peter out of the coffee shop they’d just entered and uses his free hand to haul a cab.  “I’ll pay you back,” Peter promises quietly. Bucky scoffs with a smile and lets Peter get into the cab first. “Sure, you will.”  . The cab ride to Bucky’s favourite Italian restaurant was pleasant. They had surprisingly normal conversations, but not out of formality. They discussed interests. Peter’s a nerd. Bucky learned Peter dropped out of MIT to take care of his aunt when she got sick. He doesn’t have the funds to go back there now, as the funeral cut into all his savings. MIT. Peter is smart. Something Bucky is certain Tony will take a liking to. The boy’s into Star Wars and, surprisingly, flowers too. And dogs. Which is why he spends time at the dog park every day. Bucky figures that’s the only thing keeping him sane with everything he’s got going on. Bucky glances at Peter, who gawks at the restaurant building in front of them. He can’t help himself and softly presses the palm of his hand against Peter’s lower back. The boy whimpers, holding more tightly onto Bucky’s coat still wrapped around him. “Like it?” Bucky grins. “Like it?” Peter repeats sarcastically, causing Bucky to laugh. God, if Peter knew what exactly Bucky is capable of- what Bucky is, he’d never have done that. “It’s a little much,” Peter admits, chuckling. “If we go here I probably won’t be able to pay you back within, I dunno, ten years?” “I’m not asking you to pay anything, Peter.” “But I want to.” Peter crosses his arms and looks up at Bucky defiantly. “My uncle always told me that being in debt to someone is the stupidest thing you can do. The only loan you should ever take is your mortgage.” “You were never indebted to me.” Bucky nods. “Solid advice, by the way.” “But your coffee-” “You keep saying that as if I wasn’t the one who tossed it to the side.” Bucky creeps his arm further around Peter’s back, until he’s pressing the boy against him by his waist. Peter doesn’t fight it and for a second Bucky forgets that Peter isn’t under any form of compulsion. He’s letting this happen. Does he want this? Peter ignores Bucky’s comment and, instead, looks back at the restaurant. The sign outside proudly shows that it has a Michelin star. “I don’t fit here- I don’t look the part.” Peter looks down at his worn sneakers and denim jeans. He purposefully skips his T-shirt with a nerdy pun on it. It would only make him feel worse. “They’ll never let me in.” Bucky squeezes into Peter’s side, causing him to yelp softly and look up. The boy immediately freezes when Bucky’s eyes capture his. “Don’t worry. You’re with me.” Bucky’s cock twitches at the sight of Peter’s glazed over eyes. He didn’t expect Peter to reply. His thralls never reply. “I’m with you…” Peter’s lips barely moved when he spoke and Bucky has to suppress the urge to call him a good boy. To help control himself, Bucky looks away from Peter, who blinks a few times as he snaps out of it again. Bucky starts walking up the stairs towards the entrance of the restaurant, his hand still on Peter’s back, and Peter quietly follows Bucky’s pull. . Peter’s an eater. When given the chance to take his fill, he takes. And Bucky relishes in giving Peter what he deserves. Peter’s thoroughly enjoying the pasta and the six sides Bucky ordered for him. Carpaccio, stuffed zucchini, pumpkin gnocchi, stuffed mushrooms, grilled tomatoes with basil leaves and olive oil and – Bucky’s favourite – garlic bread. It should be enough to feed at least two people, but Peter is like a vacuum. Bucky would’ve made a comment about how Peter should take the time to taste the dishes, if Peter wasn’t so vocal after every bite. It’s not enough to disturb the other people at the restaurant – not that it’s busy, it’s not even four o’clock yet – but it’s enough to have Bucky squirm in his seat. The boy moans every time the fork disappears into his mouth, lips wrapped around it, enjoying the explosion of flavour on his tongue that has been denied the pleasures of good cuisine- any cuisine- for so long now. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” Peter breaks the silence and Bucky realizes he’s been staring at Peter eating for at least ten minutes now. Bucky straightens his back and shakes his head with the corners of his mouth curled up. “I’m alright.” Peter is about to put a piece of garlic bread in his mouth, but he halts halfway up. He cocks an eyebrow and pushes out his arm to give the bite to Bucky. Bucky stares at the piece of bread. Or well, the hand that’s attached to it. And the wrist. The veins. “Peter, I-” “Come on, it’s really good!”  “I know.” Bucky says through gritted teeth. Peter pushes in further, the most innocent smile on his face and Bucky chooses to just hold his breath. It’s no use. If he weren’t already dead, this boy would’ve been the death of him. “One bite?” If only he knew. Bucky’s going to lose control. He knows. But he doesn’t want to. He can’t just run out on Peter. He wants to… He…  He leans in. Slowly. His mouth opens slightly and his canines ache with the need to push out. Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat and he closes his eyes. Maybe if he can’t see Peter, he’ll manage. He realizes doing just that was a big mistake. His lack of vision immediately intensified the smell. The only thing he can do is repeat all the swear words he knows over and over and over again in his mind. Peter is so close. So horrifyingly close, that Bucky can hear his blood pump through his wrist. He opens his mouth further and further and his lip trembles when he feels Peter’s body heat vibrate against his skin. Almost there. Almost. He bites down, the crunching of the bread bringing him back to the present. His eyes open wide and he stares at Peter, who has a curious look on his face. The boy carefully lets go of the bread and pulls his hand back in, leaving the snack to stick half out of Bucky’s mouth. Bucky swiftly brings his own hand up to catch it from falling out and he sits up straight again, ripping the bread to a size he can chew. He can barely believe he was able to hold back. He would never deny that he wanted to stop Peter from pulling back- that he wanted to grab his lower arm and kiss his skin until it turned red from the pressure. He’s yearning to taste Peter. Why won’t he just do it? “It’s good, right?” Peter says with a bright smile. The question reminds Bucky to chew further. Humans do that. They don’t just swallow their food in one go. Bucky supposes that’s one of the few perks about being what he is. The liquid diet. Saves a lot of time. It’s been a while since he had food in his mouth, but he can’t say he hates it. It’s actually pretty good. He’s not sure if it’s the food or Peter’s presence that’s making it better, though. “It is.” . “So, you’re telling me you work at a bakery? But you don’t eat?” Bucky rests his head in his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. He’s leaned back, legs spread slightly, but Peter can’t see it with the table in the way. Not that it matters. The boy is still occupied with stuffing his face for the first time in forever. “Company considers it theft.” “Even the loafs that aren’t pretty enough for the stores?” Peter sighs and looks at his nearly empty plate of pasta. “They want a good image so they give the ugly stuff that won’t sell to homeless shelters. Which is fair, to be honest. The homeless need it more than I do.” Bucky’s baffled by Peter’s words. “Didn’t you tell me less than an hour ago that you’ll be evicted within two weeks if you don’t find a better paying job? Means you’re homeless too. You deserve the food just as much.” Peter leans forward again, cocking his head. “Not homeless yet. Not eligible for food.” He takes another bite and speaks with his mouth full. Normally Bucky would’ve minded. Not with Peter, though. “Besides, I’ve got a job interview on Monday.” “For something that makes you enough money to keep the sad little studio you live in now?” “No, but-” Peter stops in his tracks and stares at Bucky, who realizes he ran his mouth. “You know where I live?” “No!” Bucky straightens his back and evades Peter’s piercing gaze. “I just assumed-” “Well, guess you assumed right.” Peter’s voice is strained. Oh, no. This is the last thing Bucky wants. Peter puts down his fork rather aggressively and crosses his arms. “Do you do this more often? Find someone poor, in need of help? Groom them? What is all of this?” “Peter, I-” “I’m paying,” Peter repeats Bucky’s words with a mocking tone. “Does that make you feel better? Knowing you did your good deed of the day?” Bucky is stunned. He has no clue what to say next, but his silence was enough of an answer to Peter. “You know what, I’m done.” Peter pushes his chair back and stands up, nearly causing his glass of water to tip over. Bucky quickly drops way too much cash on the dinner table and rushes after him. When the cold November air hits their skin, Bucky finally speaks again. Though, it’s more of a plea. “Please, don’t go.” Peter isn’t planning on slowing down and glances at his phone, cursing quietly at the time. “Peter-” The boy whips around and it aches Bucky to see tears in his eyes. “Thanks for the food, but-” He looks at his feet and his face contorts. “I gotta go anyways, I got work.” “Work? You’re going to the bakery, now?” Peter looks up to the grey sky and scoffs. “Some people work multiple jobs to make ends meet, Buck. I’m waiting at a gala tonight.” He waves his hand and continues walking away. “Why am I even telling you all of this. Just leave me alone.” No. Bucky isn’t letting him go. He wants to make him let go. For all different reasons. Bucky moves fast and grabs Peter’s hand. He makes Peter turn around to face him and he gives the boy a stern look. “Do you really want me to leave you alone?” “Yes.” “Are you lying?” “Yes.” “Why?” Bucky moves to invade Peter’s space, maintaining eye contact and rubbing soft, slow circles on the exact spot he wanted to bite into when Peter offered him the garlic bread. “I don’t want to be pitied.” Bucky presses himself against Peter. The boy can step away whenever he wants. Bucky doesn’t control his body right now. Yet, Peter stays. Right there, flush against Bucky and looking up at the man with his beautiful, distant, brown eyes. “What do you want?” Bucky whispers, only half aware that his mouth is inching closer to Peter’s. Slightly stunned that the young man still isn’t fighting him. “To be loved.” A shiver runs through Bucky’s body and he can’t help but smirk. His free hand reaches up to cup Peter’s face and his skin is so soft. “That can be arranged…” It’s quiet for a second, neither of them knowing exactly what to say next. “I actually received an invitation for a charity gala tonight. Time’s Square. Is that where you’re working?” Peter nods shyly. “Are you going?” He asks quietly. A kind smile spreads onto Bucky’s face. “I wasn’t planning to… Do you want me to go?” Peter presses his lips on top of each other and closes his eyes. His breath is warm against Bucky’s lips. So close. “I do,” Peter whispers, before finally pressing his lips against Bucky’s. The man gasps and opens his mouth to push his tongue against Peter’s flat kiss. The boy immediately complies and grants Bucky access, allowing him to to taste all the flavours Peter just experienced at the restaurant. Peter kissed him. Of his own accord. The mere idea has Bucky groan in pleasure. After a few seconds of kissing, Peter’s eyes blow wide open and he takes a big step backwards, breaking free from Bucky’s hold on his wrist. He apologetically bows his head. “I’m sorry- I, I have to go now, I really do.” Peter turns and runs. As fast as he can. With any other human, Bucky would’ve initiated the chase. It was part of what he liked so much about the hunt. But he’s frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. What to say next. What to think next. All he can muster up in his mind is Peter. Peter-Peter-Peter-Peter. The boy kissed him. His lips were so soft and warm and Bucky wants to kiss them again. Envelope himself in the scent that’s now slowly fading away. It takes a few minutes for Bucky to come to his senses and he blinks, looking at the high rises around him to ground himself. The gala’s tonight. He’ll see Peter again tonight. Wait. Tony received an invitation to the gala as well. Bucky could introduce them. He laughs loud. Once. It catches the attention of a few people, who soon decide the man isn’t a threat - wrong - and continue with their lives. Bucky walks to the street and hauls a cab. He wants to go back home and tell Tony all about his new fixation. His Peter. Anthony Edward Stark “You’re in a good mood,” Tony quips from his lounge chair. He’s absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, half-ignoring Bucky stomping into the penthouse. “Bad feed?” “No feed,” Bucky growls as he throws his coat over the couch. “Wha- no feed?” Tony sits upright and cocks an eyebrow. “You didn’t feed yesterday either. Aren’t you starving?” The look in Bucky’s eyes says enough and Tony relaxes back into his seat until… His nose twitches. “What’s that?” He eyes the coat that Bucky had just tossed aside. There’s a strange, faint scent coming from it. It’s… Good. “My prey.” Bucky picks the coat back up and tosses it to Tony. He presses the wool against his nose and takes a whiff, cock stirring at the sweet scent. “Jeez. And you didn’t feed?” “Not from him.” Bucky groans as he drops himself on the cushions of the couch.  “I can’t stop thinking about him.” He hides his face behind his hands. “About how he might taste.” “Wai-wai-wait.” Tony tosses the coat over Bucky’s head. He instinctively hugs it, pressing the fabric against his nose and smelling the remnants of whoever his prey is. “Why does your coat smell of your prey?” “He wore it.” “Jesus Christ, Buck,” Tony exclaims when he gets up from his chair to grab them both a straight whisky. Double. “Had him right where you wanted and you let him go?” Bucky doesn’t reply. Tony figures he’d feel stupid for saying yes. Same as that he would feel stupid for lying. Tony can hear Bucky lick the coat, tasting the smell of his prey on his tongue and moaning softly. “We’re going to that gala tonight,” Bucky states. Tony immediately protests, placing Bucky’s whisky on the coffee table and sitting back down in the lounge chair with his own glass in hand. “I literally told you this morning that I don’t feel like going.” “He’ll be there.” “And why should I care? He’s your prey.” “Smell it again.” Bucky growls as he throws the coat back to Tony. The billionaire groans and reluctantly inhales again. Sure, it smells better than average, but it’s not worth going to a party for. If Bucky wants this guy he can go get him himself. “He wore that coat three hours ago.” Tony’s eyes go wide at that comment. “Three hours?” He stares at the coat in disbelief. Bucky’s scent is intense and overpowering. Anything he touches smells of Bucky. Yet, this prey Bucky’s been describing... If he wore this coat three hours ago and Bucky wore it all this time after that, it shouldn’t have smelled of his prey anymore. All that should’ve remained was Bucky. Yet… “Is he that intense?” Tony asks, brows curled up into a frown. “Is that even possible?”  Bucky picks the coat from Tony’s hands and curls his fingers around it. He moves to sit on top of Tony and grinds himself down onto Tony’s crotch. Bucky presses the coat against his face and moans as he slowly ruts himself down into Tony.  “Oh, Buck,” Tony growls, pressing his fingers into his lover’s hips and baring his sharp teeth. A grin spreads on his face when Bucky speeds up slightly. “You’re hooked, aren’t you?” “I need him, Tony, I-” Bucky whimpers. “So bad-” “Well, then.” Tony puts down his whisky to unbutton Bucky’s shirt. “Let’s get changed.” . The entire car ride to the gala, Tony teased Bucky. The man was uncharacteristically nervous. A little antsy, but nothing Tony can’t handle. He curls a lock of Bucky’s hair around his finger and leans in. “If you’re so desperate for him, why would you want to share him with me?” Bucky turns his head away from Tony, who sees it as a challenge to get the man to look at him again. He takes Bucky’s chin between his thumb and index finger and tugs playfully. “Bucky bear, tell me.” “Don’t call me that,” Bucky growls, yet he lets his head be turned under Tony’s touch. “You’re a grumpy bear, I just call you what you are,” Tony says with a smirk. It falters and his expression turns serious. His stare is intense and if Bucky wasn’t like Tony, he’d have answered without second thought. Fortunately, compulsion doesn’t work on him if he doesn’t want it to. “Tell me why.” “You’ll find out,” Bucky sighs. He grabs Tony’s wrist with his metal hand and guides Tony to his crotch. Tony immediately cups the shaft through Bucky’s pants and scoffs a laugh. “Your cock’s almost as hard as your arm, Buck.” He pulls back, much to Bucky’s dismay, and crosses his arms. “That boy must really be worth it.” The car pulls over and Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “Trust me, he is.” “Sure, sure,” Tony chuckles. The car door is opened for them and Tony swiftly gets out. He offers Bucky his hand, but the man gets out of the car himself. Still grumpy.  “You might want to put on a smile if you want him to like you. Or… Do you want to scare him off?” Tony jokes, hooking his arm into Bucky’s and initiating their walk up the stairs outside the building. “I’m seconds away from ripping out your heart, please choose your next words carefully.” Tony stops them, halfway up the steps and stares Bucky with a nonchalant look before leaning in and whispering. “I love you.” It’s soft. Genuine. “And however much I may be joking, I am honored you want to share something so precious to you with me.” Bucky cocks an eyebrow, but presses a quick kiss on Tony’s lips before continuing their way up. “You’re awful,” Bucky sighs. “You always get away with it.” “Only because you let me, Bucky bear.” Tony laughs softly. The next help opens the double doors for them. “Besides, this is more for you than for me. How good could one person really-” Tony freezes, eyes wide, nose twitching. Time seems to stop for a moment and it’s only when he spots Bucky’s grin from the corner of his eyes that he finishes his sentence. “-smell.” It’s exquisite. Intense. The only thing clawing at Tony’s mind right now is the need to know where the source is. His mouth salivates and his canines ache to push out. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually, Bucky speaks. “That’s him.” “I figured,” Tony replies through gritted teeth. He turns his head to look at Bucky with his jaw tightened. “Why would you want to share him?” Tony scoffs. “You could’ve had this all to yourself.” A wide smile spreads on Bucky’s face and it’s only now that Tony realizes that the tables have turned. The power has been shifted. Bucky unhooks his arm from Tony’s and cups the man’s face. “Oh, Tony,” he sighs. The look in his icy blue eyes is resolute. “I want to keep him.” Peter Benjamin Parker “You’re in a good mood,” Betty quips, shaking Peter out of his thoughts.  “What?” “Seriously, Pete?” She laughs as she loads her tray with more champagne glasses. “You’ve had this goofy smile on your face all evening. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this energized.” Peter straightens his back and turns to help Betty with her work. She jumps. “No, wait, let me guess!” Peter chuckles. The tray is halfway filled now and he shifts to grab a new champagne bottle to fill some more glasses. “Whatever you think it is, you’re wrong.” “Oh, so you didn’t meet someone cute?” Peter tenses up and his head whips to face Betty. She squeals. “I knew it!” She hops in her place, evading the stare of their asshole manager, Quentin Beck, who was lazily scrolling through his phone. “So? What’s she like?” “He.” “He! Ah, I knew it!” “Betty-” “Sorry, sorry! I did it again,” she sighs and rolls her shoulders before pressing into Peter’s space again. “Tell me everything!” “Betty!” Beck’s loud voice echoes through the kitchen and she flinches. “Stop distracting Peter and get your pretty ass to table S2, they requested a waiter and that’s your area.” “Yes, sir.” Betty smiles embarrassed at Peter before making her way out onto the floor. Peter quietly continues to pour the champagne glasses, trying his best not to anger Beck any further. When he’s done, he picks up the heavy tray and balances it expertly as he walks onto the floor. The second he sets foot into the dimly lit space, a strange, yet familiar feeling washes over him. It’s the same as what he felt when he walked home after the dog incident. Like he was being watched. It’d be rude to stop and stare to find the source of the uneasy sensation, so he powers through and continues walking to his area. Once his tray is empty, cheeks hurting from the fake smile on his face, he turns to make his way back to the kitchen. However, he didn’t expect Betty to be right behind him and he runs into her. “Woah!” He exclaims, catching her before she loses balance. When they’re both standing up straight, he notices something is off. “Are you okay?” He asks, squeezing his hand that rests on her upper arm. She stares up at him and blinks a few times. “Yeah! Eh… They asked for our deepest red wine.” “Who?" “Oh, the, um…” Betty frowns, but collects herself. “The people from table S2?” “And you’re telling me this… why?” Peter leans in to check Betty’s pupils. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t have been the first time some gross guys tried to drug her while working. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, save for her behaviour. “They want you to get it for them.”  “Me?” “You.” Peter stands up straight and cocks his head. He suppresses the urge to turn his head and look at table S2. He’s still being watched. He’s not sure if he likes where this is going. Peter wipes a stray lock of hair behind Betty’s ear and gently pushes her in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s get you a glass of water first.” Betty sits on one of the few chairs in the kitchen and stares at the glass of water in her hands. “I’m fine, really, all they asked is for Peter to bring them our deepest shade of red wine.” Beck scratches the back of his head and puts his hands on his hips before turning to look at Peter. “How familiar are you with the S area?” He asks. Peter purses his lips and takes a second to think. “It’s not what I’m used to, but I think I got the numbers down.” He looks down at Betty with a frown. “And if they made you so out of it, maybe it’s better if you don’t take their orders anymore.” Betty’s eye twitches and she looks up to lock gazes with Peter. “...Orders?” It’s quiet for a second. Mr. Beck breaks it with a sudden clap of his hands. “Alright, Peter, Betty’s fired. You’re taking her area together with your own.” “What?” Peter exclaims. “You can’t fire her for something like this!” “I can and I did.” Beck glares at Peter. “Now, off you go, they’ve been waiting long enough. And no, you’re not getting double pay.” Beck suddenly stops in his tracks and points both his index fingers to the ceiling. “The wine!” He turns to the wine cellar and disappears, offhandedly shouting something about wine glasses to Peter. That man is mentally unstable. Peter will never understand how he became the manager. Peter turns to Betty once more. “I’m… I’m so sorry.” Betty nods slightly and she curls the corners of her mouth up. Her eyes don’t smile along. “I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s forced. Peter frowns. “You had to switch places with me anyways.” “Wha- why did I have to? The S area was always your thing, you always claimed it during prep.” “I don’t want the S area anymore. It’s okay. I’ll find another job. They want you.” Peter’s officially worried now. He takes Betty’s hands in his and stares her down, trying to read her. “They?” He mumbles. “They.” Peter was hoping she’d give a little more information, but he probably won’t get it. And she’s out of it. Really out of it. Who would ask specifically for him at a gala? Nobody knows he’s working here… Peter freezes when it hits him. Bucky. “Peter, I thought I asked you to grab the glasses!” Beck shouts annoyed when he returns with a bottle of red wine. Peter stands up straight and nods apologetically, eyeing Betty once more before turning to the cupboards. It’s not long before Peter finds his way onto the floor again, balancing his tray with two glasses and a bottle of red wine on a shaky hand. He sniffs, trying not to look at the S2 table while he’s making his way there. His heart thumps loudly in his chest. “Excuse me?” Peter is almost grateful that someone stops him and he smiles at the lady. “Good evening, ma’am, how may I help?” “The waitress who just helped us, where is she?” “Oh,” Peter says as he turns his body, lowering the tray slightly. “She suddenly felt dizzy, so she’s, eh… She’s taking a break. I’m taking over the tables here.” Honesty gets you further. May’s words still linger in his head. The lady frowns worried. “Oh, dear, I hope she feels better soon. Did our order come through?” Peter quickly peeks at their table number, trying to remember what he saw on the order board in the kitchen. S4. Awesome. That means he can say- “Yes, ma’am, it came through. They’re working on it right now.” He nods, glad he was able to give good news. “I’ll be serving you tonight.” Peter’s startled by someone coughing loudly, choking. He turns and rushes over without second thought, putting down the tray on the table and placing his hand on the shoulder of the hunched over man.  “Sir, are you alright?” He glances at the table number out of habit, freezing for a second when he reads S2. The man who’s choking, collects himself, grabbing his glass of water and taking a sip. Peter can’t help but stare at him. He’s beautiful. There are lines on his face, but they only accentuate his features. His eyes are deep. Brown. He’s not young, but aged like fine… Wine, the wine, right. Wait. Is that… Tony Stark? Tech giant, richest man of New York, Tony Stark?! “Peachy,” Tony forces out, suppressing another cough. He looks up at Peter. The boy is immediately captivated. The only one he’s ever seen with eyes that entrancing is- “Ah, Peter, took you a while.” Peter barely manages to break eye contact and looks up startled at Bucky, sitting next to the Tony Stark. After a few more seconds of stunned silence, the man speaks again. “You can let go now.” Peter realizes his hand still rests on Tony Stark’s shoulder. His words shoot through Peter like a missile. It wasn’t an order, but… Let go.  Before he can move away, Tony captures him again with his eyes. “Unless you don’t want to.” “I-” Peter’s breath hitches in his throat, and it takes him a second to collect himself. “I have to work.” His fingers uncurl from the man’s arm and he stands up straight again with a nod. “Oh?” There’s a mischievous gleam in the Tony’s eyes. “Does that mean you wouldn’t have let go of me if you weren’t working right now?” Let go. Let go. Let go. The words keep echoing through Peter’s head and it makes him tingly. He can’t right now. He has to work. He opts to ignore the inappropriate question. “Your wine,” he says quickly as he places the glasses from the tray onto the table. He then opens the wine bottle, holding it with a cloth. He pours both men a sip to taste, evading eye contact with Bucky. Their kiss still lingers on his lips. He takes a step back and waits for Bucky and Tony to purse their lips, pushing the wine around in their mouths. “It’s a Sagrantino di Montefalco.” Peter says quietly. “Our deepest shade, as per your request.” “Perfect.” Bucky grins and pushes out his arm for Peter to fill his glass further. He complies and tilts the bottle until the glass is adequately filled. The other man does the same, wordlessly, and Peter fills his glass too. “Oh, right, Peter, this is my partner, Tony Stark.” Peter’s eyes go wide. Peter kissed Tony Stark’s partner. In his panic he accidentally tips the bottle too far, overfilling the glass and coating Tony’s hand with the wine. “Oh, sh-” Peter catches himself before he swears and puts the bottle down, immediately using the cloth he held the bottle with to take the glass from Tony’s hands. “I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t-” Before Peter can hand Tony the cloth, the man brings his wine coated fingers to his lips. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. He shivers, which has Peter wonder why. It’s not exactly a good smelling wine. Is he smelling something else? Peter’s jaw clenches when Tony pushes his digits into his mouth. It all seemed innocent enough until he made eye contact with Peter. And held his gaze. Peter is glued in his spot. Body stiff, slightly shaking. Bucky leans over Tony’s shoulder and nudges his head against Tony’s. The man complies, takes his fingers out of his mouth and presents them to Bucky, who licks them clean of the last bits of red wine. Peter isn’t certain what he’s looking at, but he knows for sure that he can’t look away. His gaze is still locked with Tony’s and… Are Peter’s pants getting tighter? “We share everything, Peter,” Bucky says with a grin as he pulls back. Tony presses his fingers together and smirks. He finally breaks eye contact with Peter, but the boy can’t stop staring. Did that just happen? “It did,” Tony quips. Peter’s eyes go wide. Did he say that out loud? He turns away, picking up the wine bottle as he goes. “Peter?” He stops in his tracks, quietly hoping to disappear into the floor. He kissed Bucky. He kissed him. And now he’s here with his- With Tony. He requested Peter to wait their table and now… This. God, this is embarrassing. And hot. Unfairly hot. Peter slowly turns around, but keeps his eyes strained on the floor. “Thanks for the service.” Peter can hear Bucky’s shit eating grin, but they’re testing him. He knows. He’s very aware of what they want him to say and so, he’ll indulge. “My pleasure.” He nods at the floor and shifts to move back to the kitchen. Table S4’s order should be ready to go. He’s not sure how, but it’s like he can hear Tony’s voice in his head. Whispering. Tickling his ears from the inside. “Your pleasure.” James Buchanan Barnes “Did you see the look on his face?” Tony is the giddiest Bucky has ever seen him. “He’s perfect, Buck, absolutely perfect.” “I know.” Bucky leans back smugly and crosses his arms. Tony takes another sip of his wine, settling the excitement with some ineffective alcohol. “I want to keep him too,” he says quickly before letting the liquid coat his tongue. “How do you suggest we go about this?” He cocks an eyebrow at Bucky, who can’t help but smile. “We offer him a job.” “A job,” Tony repeats, raising his other eyebrow as well. Bucky cocks his head, not listening to whoever is talking on stage. Galas are the worst. “A job.” “Why?” “He’s poor.” Bucky sniffs and leans towards Tony to tell him the story. How Peter hadn’t eaten a meal for a while until Bucky took him out for spaghetti earlier today. How Peter, from the kindness of his heart, chased the dog and then offered to pay for the cold coffee Bucky had dropped, even though he didn’t even have fifteen dollars to his name. How Peter will be evicted from his home. Bucky talked about the subjects discussed on the date. Peter’s all alone and stuck in a vicious cycle until he manages to break free. He just needs the means to break free. And Tony and Bucky have those means. And their own needs. “Still a little shady.” “What? We’re just offering him a way out. Just a job.” “As what?” “I dunno. Personal assistant?” Tony snorts at that and puts down his glass. “To cater to all your wishes.” “Well, yeah?” Bucky shifts in his seat and rests his head in his hand, leaning his elbow on the table and taking a sip of his own glass of wine.  “You haven’t seen how he was this afternoon.” “You’re right, I haven’t. You told me about the ‘let go’ part. Had a lot of fun messing with his head just yet.” “Okay, but that means you saw it too.” Bucky tilts his head. “He’s stressed. On edge. Tired. Hungry. And most of all; he’s touch starved. And mind you, he kissed me. I didn’t ask him to. I didn’t compel him to. He just did it. By himself. He wants this.” Tony sucks at his teeth and Bucky groans. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me he’s making you second guess your morals.” “I don’t want to use him.” Bucky stares at Tony in disbelief. “So, all the people you feed from aren’t being used by you?” “I don’t want to use him.” “Fine. Fine, me neither.” Bucky groans, pressing his face into his hand and rubbing it. “But I can’t let him go.” “How about we let him decide? We ask him. He can say yes or no.” Bucky tenses and sends Tony a worried look. “What if he says no?” He realizes he sounds scared. Bucky Barnes. Scared. Bucky from yesterday would laugh him in the face. “Then we’ll convince him,” Tony says determined. He nods and pushes a lock of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “The old fashioned way. Without dark magic.” “You’re saying we should stop playing with him?” Tony laughs and shakes his head. “No.” He takes his glass and chugs it, only to chug Bucky’s immediately afterwards. Empty glasses means a certain waiter would have to show up at their table again soon. “We won’t force him to be with us, but we can still play.” “How morally grey,” Bucky chuckles. “You’re disgusting.” “Love you too, Bucky bear.” . “It’s okay to feel uncomfortable with us, Peter. Are you uncomfortable?” “No, sir, I’m not,” Peter mumbles, staring into Bucky’s eyes after giving them their fourth glass of wine. Bucky knows it’s all formality. The boy’s still at work. He can’t say that to the people he’s… Serving. “Are you lying?” “Yes.” “Don’t lie when you’re with us, Peter.” “Okay.” “Jesus, Buck, go easy, someone’ll catch on something’s off,” Tony says quickly and quietly. “Look at him, Tony, isn’t he wonderful?” “I’m… I’m right here,” Peter mutters, a slight frown curls his brows. “We know, we know. Forget we said that and go do your thing.” Peter blinks and his wide, fake, waiter smile returns. “Your food should be ready soon,” he says, bright and awake.  “Thank you, Peter.” Tony nods curtly and Peter shuffles where he stands before mumbling his reply and rushing off. “Mm. Pleasure.” . “Why are you uncomfortable with us?” Tony tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow. “I, eh…” Peter stutters as he pours their ninth glass of wine. “Tony knows about the kiss,” Bucky adds nonchalantly. Peter stops pouring their beverages and takes a slight step back. He’s startled and takes a second to find his words. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know you-” “I don’t mind,” Tony says with a grin. Peter stares at him wide-eyed, which makes Bucky chuckle. They’re going to have so much fun with him. Heck, they already are. “In fact…” Tony leans forward on the table and rests his elbow on it, placing his cheek in his hand. “...I’d like you to kiss me too.” Bucky can literally feel Peter’s hard on from where he’s sitting. The boy swallows and the steady but fast, beating of his heart thrums in Bucky’s ears.  “I’m working,” he replies and it has both men smile up at him. He didn’t say no. Peter quickly tilts the bottle again, emptying it with his lips pressed tightly on top of each other. It’s Bucky’s turn to show his gratitude to Peter, so he does. “Thank you, Peter.” The boy squirms where he stands and pivots to rush back to the kitchen. Though, his soft whimper didn’t go unnoticed. “Pleasure.” . “Oh, please, you haven’t resisted us before, why now?” Tony leans forward, obviously taking a whiff of Peter’s scent before curling up the corners of his mouth, fluttering his eyes innocently. “Work,” Peter pushes out, eyes strained on the bottle he’s tipping to pour Bucky’s seventeenth glass. He’s caught on that actually looking at the men makes him lose himself. Especially when they talk like that. Bucky wonders if Peter has any suspicions about what he and Tony are. Not to mention the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed at this point. He’s smart. He must know something is afoot.  “Well, we actually had a proposition about that.” Bucky’s regular voice gave Peter the confidence to look up at him, which was a mistake on his part, honestly. Bucky immediately traps him with his stare. “Proposition?” Peter asks quietly. “See, we were just discussing that we want to-”  Their conversation is cut short by a short yelp and the sound of glass shattering behind them. The scare breaks Peter away from Bucky and the boy immediately puts down the bottle to rush to the problem. Someone dropped their glass, coating the floor in white wine and covering it with thousands of tiny pieces. Some other guy rushes over, while Peter squats. He uses his tray to quickly pick up the larger glass pieces and asks the other waiter to grab a broom. Bucky and Tony stare hungrily at how Peter is bent over. Their imaginations run wild with the endless possibilities. All of them involve Peter in that exact position. Naked. Suddenly, Peter winces and sucks in a breath, cursing quietly. The enhanced scent immediately hits Bucky’s and Tony’s noses. Their pupils dilate fully and they grab onto each other to hold themselves back. Blood. Blood. Blood. They stare at how Peter raises his hand to look at the damage, only to put his blood covered index finger into his mouth. Sucking on it. “Jesus Christ-” Tony spits out through gritted teeth. Bucky can only growl. The smell and the sight are dizzying and the need to sink their teeth into Peter is becoming overwhelming. “Peter!” The other guy returns and has spotted Peter’s situation. “Bwad-” Peter tries to speak, but his finger is keeping him from pronouncing all the letters. He takes it out of his mouth to show it to ‘Bwad.’ Tony and Bucky are shaking. The blood flows fast, already trickling down his fingers, so he swiftly puts it back into his mouth. Bucky wishes he didn’t hear Peter’s soft sounds. Yet, he wants to hear nothing but those soft sounds.  “Sheesh, Pete, go get a bandaid for that. And some alcohol-” ‘Bwad’ says disgusted. “And stop sucking on it, you’re not a vampire.” Peter freezes when ‘Bwad’ says that and he whips his head to look at Bucky and Tony with large eyes. Bingo. He caught on. Bucky grins wide, no longer trying to hide his fangs and he raises one eyebrow, using his head to gesture at the finger still in Peter’s mouth. Peter takes a deep breath and rushes to the kitchen. . Bucky isn’t surprised to see Peter walking out of the kitchen again, a new wine bottle in hand. The boy is bold and he obviously knows what he wants. It’s the exact reason why Tony and Bucky didn’t chase him. They knew he’d come back. “You were talking about a proposition?” Peter initiates the conversation this time, aiming to pour the next glass for Tony. However, the man catches his wrist and pulls Peter’s hand with the bandaid closer to his nose. “I thought you said the wine you’re serving is your deepest shade of red.” “Not anymore, you drank it all.” Bucky is surprised by Peter’s sudden sassiness. He’s no longer the polite waiter. He’s Peter again. For them. And he’s not afraid of what they are. “Well, then…” Tony sighs, closing his eyes and pressing Peter’s bandaged index fingers against his nostrils. “Why don’t you give us your deepest shade of red?” “Is that why you’ve been doing all of this?” Peter asks quietly, not wanting to gain attention from anyone around them, yet also not pulling back his hand. “You want to suck me dry?” “No,” Bucky says with a kind smile. “We want to do so much more than that.” “The proposition.” Peter stares at Bucky, who guesses he’s waiting for the man to compel him again, but he doesn’t. “We want you to be our personal assistant. An exciting job that matches your intellect, good pay, insurance, great sex, a roof over your head, we even got dental-” “Woah, woah, wait-” “Sex. Yeah. I said sex.” Bucky grins. “Don’t you want that? Want us?” Tony tenderly kisses the bandaid and Peter shivers. “I do.” Peter frowns and takes a second to collect his thoughts. “But I can’t just- I can’t-” He looks back to the floor and the kitchen and Bucky follows his gaze. His manager’s eyes are on him. This could get him fired. On the spot. “Peter, trust me when I tell you that never in our entire undead lives have we met anyone as utterly captivating as you are. We don’t want to kill you. We don’t want to hurt you. We want to keep you.” “Keep…” Peter mulls over Bucky’s words, turning his head to look at the two men again. “So, I’ll be your pet?” “You’ll still be you. You’ll have a life. Just… With us in it.” Tony shrugs. It’s almost strange how casual they are about this. “Will you…” Peter stops talking, slightly embarrassed at what he wants from them. “Will we…?” Tony looks up at him, patient but curious. “Will you compel me?” “Do you want that?” Bucky asks immediately. He knows what it does to Peter to be controlled like that. “I… It’s not something I want to discuss here.” “Tell us,” Bucky orders. A shiver goes up Peter’s spine and he closes his eyes, complying straight away. “The feeling is so nice, I- It makes me horny.” “Oh, does it?” Tony coos. “You’ve been so submissive all evening already. And now you’re telling us it’s because we can control your mind? Most people would run if they were in your position.” “I want this,” Peter mumbles. “I’ve got nothing left to lose anyways.” “Oh!” Tony exclaims, trying to stay quiet in order to keep the other tables from looking at them. “He wants this,” he says to Bucky, before turning to Peter again. “You want this! We truly hit the jackpot, Buck.” “You’re really not going to kill me?” Peter asks quietly. A bit of fear seeps through and Bucky immediately takes Peter’s other hand in his, tracing the tips of his fingers over the prominent veins on his wrist. “And waste all of you?” Bucky whispers, looking up at Peter in awe. “I’d rather kill myself.” “What’s so special about me anyways?” Peter sucks at his teeth, trying to ignore Tony’s soft lips and Bucky’s cold fingers against his skin. “You could have anyone. Why me?” “You have no idea how good you smell,” Tony sighs. “S-smell?” “We’re going to have to take a look into why you’re so intense and addictive, but believe us when we say that you’re making us lose our minds,” Bucky chuckles. “With us, you’ll be the safest you’ve ever been. No one will touch our flower. You’ll live with us, we’ll share our riches with you. We want to give you everything, Peter; A fulfilling life, a purpose, all the pleasure you can imagine. More.” It’s quiet for a few seconds as they all realize what this means. “Will you...?” Peter asks again. “Will we...?” Tony replies playfully. Peter nods slowly, doing his best to find the courage to finish his sentence. “Will you compel me?” “With pleasure.” Bucky immediately takes hold of Peter’s mind. “You want to stop worrying, don’t you, pretty Peter?” The mention of the nickname Bucky had used on him before has Peter twitch where he stands. Tony has started kissing his entire hand, licking the veins on his wrist. “Yes.” “Do you want us to take all your heavy thoughts away? Replace them with good thoughts- thoughts we want you to think?” Peter nods, eyes strained on Bucky’s. “Do you want to let go for us?” “Please-” “Let go.” Peter’s knees give in for a split second, but it’s enough for Bucky to have to catch Peter as he drops. Peter Benjamin Parker Peter’s snapped back into reality sandwiched between Tony’s and Bucky’s shoulders. Their arms are wrapped around his waist, keeping him upright. They’re walking down the stairs of the venue, but Peter doesn’t recall walking out. The cold November air hits his skin and he takes a deep breath. “Hello, there,” Bucky chuckles. “H-hey?” “No worries, we just want you to know where we’re taking you. We’ll put you back under when we reach the bedroom.” Peter jolts, standing more sturdy on his feet at the mention of their destination. “PETER!” He turns his head to see Beck, staring at him wide-eyed, arms spread in confusion. “Your shift’s not done, where do you think you’re going?!” It’s quiet for a second, but Peter doesn’t even consider lying. He knows he’s in good hands. He knows they speak the truth. He knows he’s better off without Beck. Without this job. “I quit,” he whispers. Both Bucky and Tony stare at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?” Beck yelps. Peter stands up more straight and rolls his shoulders, finding the courage to repeat himself, but louder. “I quit.” “Y-you can’t just-” “I can. I quit.” Peter moves to get into the car and tosses his black apron on the sidewalk. “What about all the guests?” There’s a hint of desperation in Beck’s voice and Peter shakes his head. “Pull your own weight for a change.” The car door shuts. Peter is still pressed between the two taller men, who stare at Peter. Stunned. “Did- did you tell him to say that?” Bucky mumbles to Tony. Peter scoffs a laugh. “I didn’t,” Tony answers honestly and ends it with a groan. “Kid, you’re gonna be the death of us.” “Aren’t you already dead?” “Touché.” . Stark Tower. The building Peter could only dream of working at during his time at MIT. The dream crumbled when he dropped out. He didn’t dare think about setting foot into this place without a degree or doctorate of some kind. He couldn’t imagine getting the attention of Tony Stark, the man he’d looked up to since his childhood. And now he’s here. In the elevator to the penthouse, the living quarters, being held by Bucky and his boyfriend. Tony Stark. If he really is dreaming right now, he never wants to wake up again. But it feels too real. Their cold fingers wrapped around his arms, stroking his skin delicately and gently. They make terribly casual conversation for the current situation. Peter answers all their questions, though. Tries to engage, but he can’t stop looking around. Perks of a glass elevator is that he can see every floor. All the labs, all the test areas. Some floors are blinded for their own reasons, which is fair, but it’s obvious Tony has the glass elevator installed to show off. Peter falls quiet in the middle of a sentence about the last project he’d worked on when he was still at MIT, involving nanotechnology, and frowns. The question leaves his lips before he realizes how rude it is. “How old are you?” Tony bursts out laughing. “Older than I look.” “No- but-” “Bucky’s nearing… Three centuries?” “You wound me, Tony, you don’t even remember my age?” “Details, details, Buck.” Tony smirks. “How old am I, then?” “You’re a young sprite. Got your ninety-second birthday coming up, don’t you? I sired you when you were forty-seven.” Bucky puts up a cocky smile and raises one eyebrow. “Now you’re just making me look bad.” Tony pouts. “Why don’t people wonder about that? Y-your age, I mean?” Peter purses his lips, trying to recall a time when magazines and news outlets questioned Tony’s looks compared to his age. He doesn’t. “Well, I took over from my ‘father,’ obviously,” Tony chuckles. “Wait, that was you too?” “The resemblance is striking.” Tony looks incredibly pleased with himself. “That’s… That’s insane.” Peter stares ahead, trying to have it all make sense in his brain. “How old are you?” Tony asks with a genuine smile. “Twenty-three.” “Only a babe,” Bucky chuckles and Peter turns to face them both, cheeks puffed. “I’m not a child!” “You say to the two-hundred-seventy-six year old man.” “What- you want me to call you great great great grandpa?” “Dear god, no.” “Then don’t call me babe-” Peter gets pulled against Bucky’s chest, a wide grin spreads on the man’s face. His cold breath tickles Peter’s skin. Peter shakes, but can’t help but push in too. Bucky’s hard and he gently grinds against Peter. The boy whimpers. “Not even in the bedroom?” Peter flutters his eyes, now very aware what the gesture does to the men he’s with and he whispers seductively. “Only in the bedroom.” . This isn’t a bedroom. It’s a small palace. Dark granite tiles, a gigantic glass bathtub in the middle of the room, the bed is so large it could fit five people generously. The sheets are a deep shade of red and the room even has space for an extensive sitting area. It’s insane. His studio would barely be considered a cupboard compared to this. “Here’s where the magic happens.” Tony places his hands on Peter’s shoulders and leans over. He looks at Peter expectantly, but all Peter can do is stare, mouth opened slightly. “Is it too much?”  “You haven’t seen where he lives, Tones-” That comment snaps Peter out of it and he turns to give Bucky an accusatory glare. “So you did know about my studio!” “I followed you home. Shoot me. You smell too good.” “Thanks.” A short awkward silence falls and the slight frown on his face betrays that Peter is thinking about something. “My dream…” “Was nice, wasn’t it?” Bucky grins and takes a step closer to Peter, taking his hands to lift them to Peter’s heart. They feel the beat quickening slightly. “You’re unbelievable.” Peter’s breath is shaky. Bucky leans in until their noses touch.  “Hey, you were obviously enjoying yourself. Too bad you set that alarm. I’d have let you come.” “You gave him a wet dream?” Tony scoffs and slightly squeezes his fingers into Peter’s shoulders.  “I did,” Bucky says proudly. “It was very convincing.” Peter chuckles and shakes his head. “Like I said; unbelievable.” “Hmm, but Pete… Did you end up coming at all?” Tony’s words tickle Peter’s ear and he shivers, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Oh, the torture.” Tony’s hands slowly move down Peter’s arms to caress his waist and then grip his hips. “You want to come, don’t you?” His trimmed beard scratches Peter’s jaw. All Peter can do is nod, paired with a soft whimper. Yes. He wants to come. Let go. For them. Suddenly, both Bucky and Tony let go of Peter and he sucks in a breath. “Let’s give him a tour of the room, shall we?” Tony claps his hands once and Peter’s quiet, frustrated groan doesn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t be so needy, babe-” Bucky says with a smirk, but Peter quickly replies. “Don’t call me that.” Bucky raises an eyebrow and gestures at the bed. “Well… We’re in the bedroom, aren’t we?” James Buchanan Barnes Tony and Bucky show Peter every corner of the room. In the least sexual way possible. And it’s driving Peter nuts. They can tell how much he’s aching for their touch by how he fiddles his fingers, how his shoulders are slightly raised and how he holds his breath whenever either of the men speaks. Bucky opens the door to the bathroom and guides Peter in, Tony right behind him. Once again, dark tiles, lots of glass, another tub, some lounge chairs, nothing Bucky hasn’t seen before. Peter, however, is stunned and both Bucky and Tony notice the kid is not really taking in any part of the bathroom, except for the shower. It’s separated from the bathroom with a glass wall and you can walk into it from two sides. The look on Peter’s face is difficult to place. Curled up brows, a trembling lip and dewy eyes, strained on… The shower. Oh, no. “What’s going through your head?” Bucky asks carefully. He doesn’t want Peter to feel called out, but he knows what’s up. Peter immediately drops his gaze and stares at his feet, pressing his hands together embarrassed. “I- Nothing.” “Nothing?” Tony steps around Peter to look at him from the front, eyebrows raised. “Don’t you like it?” “Tones-” Bucky raises one hand to stop his boyfriend from speaking. He’s been rich since birth, he doesn’t know what poverty is like. What hardships it brings. “Talk to us, Pete. Tell us what you want.” Peter turns to lock gazes with Bucky. He holds his head high, but he’s obviously not happy with what Bucky asked of him. “I don’t want your pity.” “I’m not pitying you, Peter.” “You are!” Peter hugs himself and steps away from the two significantly older men. He breaks eye contact and sniffs. “I’m- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.” “Sheesh, kid, it’s gonna take a little more to ruffle our feathers than a slightly raised voice.” Tony cocks his head and sucks at his teeth. “I’ll rephrase, okay?” Bucky says with a nod. “Why were you staring at the shower?” “You know the answer.” “Not the specifics.” “Is this some kind of insider thing that I’m not a part of?” Tony asks, confused. The younger vampire glances at the shower, and when Bucky notices, it suddenly hits him. “Warm water.” “Fine! Okay, you got me. It got cut off a little over a month ago. I needed the place more than the hot water, so I compromised,” Peter confesses, turning his back so he can hide his red face and the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. Bucky had already seen them, though. “Would you like to take a shower?” “N-no.” “Peter,” Tony threatens. It’s soft, though. He steps forward and curls his fingers around Peter’s shoulders again, slowly turning him around so the boy faces them again. Peter lets it happen and he gasps quietly when Tony moves to unbutton his white dress shirt. “We want you to feel good. To enjoy yourself. If you want that shower… We’ll gladly join you.” Peter stares up into Tony’s eyes and right when the two men expect Peter to give in, he places his hands over Tony’s. “Why are you so kind to me?” He glances at both men. “Honest to god, kid, I wish I knew.” Tony scoffs a soft laugh, but Peter doesn’t smile along. “I smell good to you now. You like me now,” he frowns. “I just quit my weekend job. What if, tomorrow, you don’t like me anymore? You’re just gonna toss me out, aren’t you?” “No,” Bucky says resolutely, taking a large step towards Tony and Peter. The young vampire takes a slight step to the side, allowing Bucky to stand in front of Peter as well. “Not after everything that’s happened today. I’d never.” The man cups Peter’s face with his cold hand and his lip quivers. “I will make you feel loved and cherished- will give you anything and everything, so long as your promise to be mine.” He takes a deep breath and corrects himself. “Ours.” A strange silence settles between the three of them. Bucky’s words were a promise of sorts. A promise that meant more to Peter than either of the immortals could ever fathom. The boy’s voice is fragile when he speaks. “What if I don’t want to be yours?” “Then you’d be lying.” “Probably,” Peter mumbles, averting his gaze. He takes a breath in through his nose. “Are you going to lock me in here?” “Of course not,” Tony says softly. His smile is kind and genuine. Tony never smiles like this with anyone other than Bucky. His hand moves to caress Peter, push through his hair and let the boy lean into him. “We’re not monsters. Well- we are, but not like that.” Peter gives them a lopsided smile, crooked. His cheeks flush, but his eyes water more and more until Bucky catches a tear with his thumb. “This isn’t real,” Peter whispers. “I’m gonna wake up, aren’t I? And you’ll be gone.” Tony immediately moves to stand behind Peter. Bucky shuffles until he’s right in front of the small, stressed, young man, so he can press his forehead against Peter’s. Tony wraps his arms around Peter’s waist in an embrace and gently scratches his beard over Peter’s skin. “Allow us to prove you wrong,” Bucky whispers, his cool breath mingling with Peter’s warm one. Peter has his eyes closed, but his shoulders twitch. “How?” “Share your night with us.” Tony’s deep voice creates goosebumps all over Peter’s skin. Bucky leans in closer, wanting to taste Peter on his lips again. The man is pleasantly surprised when Peter, against all expectations, takes initiative by pressing his mouth against Bucky’s in an open kiss. Bucky smiles into it, licking Peter’s lips. The boy immediately grants him access and Tony continues his proposition.  “Entangle your body with ours- let us take away your stress, your worries. Sleep and wake, with your head on our chests, our fingers caressing your glowing skin as we kiss it. Kiss you.” Tony pairs his sweet words with gentle pecks and a slight drag of his pointed teeth over Peter’s skin. Peter gasps, his hips automatically pushing forward against Bucky’s thigh. The man breaks their kiss and whispers. “If you decide that this is not what you want, we will let you go.” “I- I want this,” Peter moans, pushing back in to continue their kiss, hands finally raising to grab Bucky’s face- tug his hair. “Want it all-” Tony’s hands move up to continue undoing the buttons of Peter’s shirt, pressed between Bucky’s and Peter’s body. “-Want it to be real.” “It is.” The shiver that goes down Peter’s spine does not go unnoticed and the men grin. “How about I run that shower?” Tony mumbles as he slips the shirt down Peter’s arms. Peter breaks free from the kiss and looks at Tony wide-eyed. “No- actually, I…” He stutters and the men both look at him quizzically. “I…” “Tell us what you want, Peter,” Bucky says softly, tilting his head to try and catch Peter’s averted gaze. When Peter looks up, there’s embarrassment, yet… Arousal. Oh. Bucky knows exactly what Peter wants. “Tell us what you want.” Peter’s eyes glaze over slightly and he whimpers. All Bucky can think of is how lucky he and Tony are to have found someone like Peter. This deliciously sweet, submissive young man whose cock twitches when he gives up his mind, is right here in front of them. He wants to be controlled. Wants them. And oh, how they want him too. “Do it myself.” Peter sounds slightly embarrassed. “Wh- shower?” Tony says with a cocked head, slightly amused. Peter nods shyly, not breaking eye contact with Bucky. An idea sparks in Bucky’s mind. It’s filthy and voyeuristic and most likely exactly what Peter wants too. “Oh, Peter… Go have that shower. You deserve it.” His hands caress Peter’s face one more time before letting go. “Do what feels right. What feels good. This is your bathroom. We’re not here.” Peter blinks a few times, processing the command, before stretching his back and letting his shoulders slouch a little more. Bucky and Tony don’t exist anymore. It’s just him in this bathroom. Tony grins at Bucky and tosses the white shirt on the floor, pushing his hand through his hair and sitting down in one of the lounge chairs. Bucky gives him a sly smirk and cocks an eyebrow. Both men have their attention pulled back to Peter, who kicks off his pants and socks. They suck in a breath at the sight of Peter’s physique. He’s more toned than they’d expected him to be. Lean, yet strong. How his clothes hid his true shape, is a mystery to them. Bucky can feel his cock stir when Peter cups his own shaft through his underwear while turning on the shower with his other hand. Oh, yes… Bucky thinks. This oughta be good. Peter Benjamin Parker Peter turns on the tap and stares at it for a second. He’s suddenly unsure how to use it, which is weird cause this is his bathroom, right? How could he forget how his own shower works? He fiddles a bit with the faucet until the water turns warm. Something inside him is confused. Didn’t his hot water get cut off?  “Ah, well,” he mumbles to himself. It’s a habit he picked up in all those months spent by himself. Not having anyone to talk to resulted in him just filling up the empty space with his own words. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts...” He takes off his boxers and absentmindedly cups his hard shaft like he did before. The underwear is lazily tossed to the side and Peter reaches his hand into the shower. It’s strange to feel the warm water on his hands after so long. It makes him realize how cold he actually is. Slowly, he steps under the stream of warm water and turns it up a tad, just because he can. God, this is nice. It’s not long before he pushes his head under, holding his breath as his hair clings to his forehead. It’s been forever since he’s had a shower like this. For now, he can’t even be bothered to figure out where he put the soap. He just wants to stay right there. Forever. Warm. A small smile creeps onto his face when he remembers Bucky’s coat, enveloping him earlier that day. Though it was cold at first, it quickly warmed up through Peter’s body heat. Not a surprise, everything about Bucky made Peter feel hot. Bucky. The man had haunted his thoughts all day. Heck, he even dreamed about him. Peter’s arousal spikes at the memory of Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around his shaft, his lips next to Peter’s ear to whisper filth and make him beg. Peter pulls his head out from under the stream and topples it backwards to take a big breath, open mouthed, eyes closed. The hot water hits his chest, causing his nipples to spring to attention. The fingers he has still wrapped around his shaft, squeeze softly. Peter lets out a shaky breath and stifles a moan. His eyes are pressed shut. He imagines the metal hand caressing his skin. The thought alone has him shiver. His hand moves slowly at first, pumping and squeezing and, God, it feels insanely good.  “F-Fuck,” he whimpers, raising his free hand to start tweaking one of the sensitive buds on his chest. His back arches slightly and he sticks out his butt a little. Suddenly, there’s a presence on either side of him. He opens his eyes, but there’s nothing to be seen. His sight is slightly warped, but something in the back of his head tells him everything is just fine. He’s there by himself. In his bathroom. “You’re holding back again…” Peter’s eyes go wide and he looks further up, confused at where the voice came from. Was that… Bucky? “Thinking of me, pretty thing?” Peter blushes. How is his imagination so vivid? So real? It sounds like Bucky is right there, in front of him and- Peter gasps when two cold fingers suddenly tease his other nipple. What is- Where is- “Answer me.” “Yes.” Peter doesn’t know where he’s looking but he can’t look away. His gaze is locked with something in front of him. Someone. Taller. But there’s nothing there…? “Gah,” Bucky groans quietly. “I just can’t get enough of you.” A tongue presses against Peter’s lips and he immediately complies and parts his own. The invisible tongue curls in and comes back out only for the imaginary mouth to suckle on Peter’s top lip. Peter closes his eyes and moans again. “Wish you were really here,” Peter sighs. “Mm…” Bucky chuckles and out of nowhere a second pair of hands glide over Peter’s wet, naked body. His hips buck when the other’s index finger dips into his crack and caresses past his hole. “We are,” another voice whispers into Peter’s ear from behind. Tony Stark. Holy- Peter opens his eyes again and gasps under the attention. Tony’s hands grab Peter’s hips to angle him and grant better access to his ass. Peter’s back arches further, brain completely confused at what’s happening. His limbs hang limp. He’s convinced he’s by himself. But how is this happening? He’s alone? He’s not? He’s- what’s going on? His mouth opens, wanting to say something, but he’s halted when a digit plays with the rim of his hole. “M-Mr. Stark?” “That’s me, baby, let me have a taste…” The fingers at his entrance are replaced with a tongue, immediately dipping in. Peter moans obscenely and bucks even further back, craving more. “Eyes on me, Peter,” Bucky’s voice says in front of him. Peter didn’t realize he’d shut them, but when he opens them again, there’s still no one there. He’s by himself. In his bathroom. This… This is his bathroom right? He can imagine them, though. Vividly. Bucky’s piercing blue eyes, right there. “E-Eyes on you,” Peter stutters, flinching with every flick of Tony’s tongue in his ass. “Good boy.” Peter’s jaw falls slack at the praise. His eyes would’ve rolled back if he wasn’t forced to keep looking into the icy blues that weren’t actually there. Or… Were they? No…? His confusion keeps getting mixed with pleasure as the two pairs of hands ignite every inch of skin. Hot water splashes all over the bathroom as Peter’s lifted off the ground. His head is all over the place. He’s certain he’s alone. There’s no one else here. But then, how is any of this happening? How are his feet completely detached from the floor? He’s pressed against a cold body and instinctively wraps his legs around the ghost figure. He’s up relatively high, cock pressing against imaginary Bucky’s abs and- is this really imaginary? “Can you keep up with yourself, Petey?” Bucky coos. Peter pants with yearning, his brain overloading with the mixed messages it’s receiving. He’s completely and utterly convinced he’s alone, yet he’s not. He’s being taken care of by two people. By Tony and Bucky. But he’s not. He’s alone. And fuck, it feels so good and he needs more but he can’t move his arms, but how could he possibly get there without touching himself because he’s alone? A whine slips from Peter’s lips. “Makes n-no sense, can’t- can’t make sense-” His head swims with pleasure as Tony’s tongue keeps lapping at him, hands squeezing the cheeks of Peter’s ass. Bucky is still keeping him up in the air, softly rubbing Peter up and down against himself with his strong arms. Peter’s eyes are still strained on the nothing in front of him, but his forehead rests against imaginary/not imaginary Bucky’s. Peter’s unaware he’s still babbling gibberish until Bucky’s voice vibrates the air around him. “Ssh… Pretty Peter...” Peter’s entire body slacks in Bucky’s hold and he could practically hear Bucky grinning through his words. “Does it have to make sense?” Does it? Does it really? A faint smile spreads on Peter’s face when he truly gives in. Not that he was fighting before, but it feels like whatever Bucky said just shut down his brain completely. It doesn’t have to make sense. He’s alone. He’s not alone. It doesn’t matter. He’s feeling good. So good. Wants to feel even better. All he has to do is… “Let it happen…” Bucky’s tongue flicks Peter’s upper lip just as Tony’s tongue dips in far enough to graze past his prostate. Peter gasps and jolts but almost immediately relaxes again, letting his feet practically dangle. He knows he’s taken care of. He doesn’t have to do anything. Doesn’t have to worry about anything. He just has to feel good. Let it happen. His mind is turned off, yet his body is turned on. Very much so… Peter doesn’t know how long he’s like this, floating, the warm stream of water massaging the skin of his back, cock rubbing against Bucky and ass eaten by Tony Stark. But it feels like heaven. He can barely remember his name when he’s brought back to his feet, though he can’t stand. Not by himself. “You’re beautiful,” Bucky whispers. Peter wants to protest Tony’s tongue leaving his hole, but he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. He feels too good to even barely function. He was pretty sure he was still breathing, but that was about it. The ghost hands gently scrub Peter’s tired body clean. The orchid scent fills his nostrils and clouds his mind even more, though he wasn’t sure if that was even possible. He shivers when one of the hands grabs his shaft and starts massaging it, moving up to cup his balls and fondle them. “Perfect,” Tony sighs against Peter’s shoulder, pressing kisses on the freshly washed skin. “You are absolutely perfect…” “Nng-” Peter drops his head back against Tony’s chest, lazily rolling his hips into the hand that’s giving him all the attention right now. “Our perfect, pretty, puppet - Peter Parker…” “Puppet…” Peter sighs and smiles, turning his head to the side to press a kiss on the invisible figure of Tony Stark. If his brain still worked, he’d have known he was suckling on Tony’s collar bone. “Yours…” “Oh, I’d kill to get those soft lips on my cock,” Tony whispers in his ear. Peter looks up into nothingness, doe-eyed and yearning, imagining Tony’s face close to his. His hair sticks to his face and the hot water tickles his sides as it runs down his body. “Please?” The dark chuckle that follows, turns Peter to putty. “Did you just beg to suck me off, sweet thing?” A blush creeps onto Peter’s face and he turns to hide himself against Tony’s chest. The ghost embraces him, pressing their cocks together and massaging Peter’s scalp. Peter whimpers and rubs himself against nothing. Or something. It doesn’t matter. It feels good. “You’re a lot less innocent than you seemed when I first met you, aren’t you?” Bucky coos. One pair of hands lets go of Peter and not much later the water pressure decreases. Peter glances to the side to watch the faucet turn by itself until the shower is no longer running. A towel floats towards him and he’s gently wrapped into it. Peter sways on his feet, mind still turned off, as he’s turned around. “Look at me,” Bucky orders. Peter obeys and stares up at the eyes in the back of his mind. “Come back to us, remember us, see us.” James Buchanan Barnes The look of realization on Peter’s face is absolutely everything. The haze that had covered his eyes slowly fades and after a few blinks Peter tenses every muscle in his body and freezes in place. Everything he had ‘imagined,’ turned out to be real. “Hello there,” Bucky coos as he immediately wraps his fingers around Peter’s cock again. The young man gasps and bucks, and the way his face twists with pleasure tells Bucky everything he needs to know. He squeezes at the base, preventing Peter from cumming his brains out. His brains might have already been jumbled up, but Bucky isn’t done with him yet. He’ll truly make Peter lose his mind later. Peter’s body convulses and twitches- wants to get away from Bucky’s grasp so he can shoot his load, but Tony holds on to him. Keeps him where they want him. A sob escapes Peter’s lips and his muscles lose tension until he lets himself hang in Tony’s arms like he did before, completely void of any strength to keep himself upright. “Did that feel good?” Tony whispers in Peter’s ear. Peter can only nod, eyes rolled back and jaw hanging slack. “Good.” Peter shudders, only barely holding onto the towel that’s still wrapped around his body. Tony swiftly picks him up and nods at Bucky, who opens the door for them so they can put Peter on their bed. The boy immediately curls up in the towel and babbles something incoherently. “What was that?” Bucky lays down behind Peter and wraps his arms around him. Peter’s bare ass is protected by the layer of towel between them, but Bucky knows it won’t be long now… “I’ve never felt this good before,” Peter whispers. Tony chuckles and sits down on the other side of the bed, one leg pulled in, showing off his hard cock right in front of Peter’s face. Peter stares at it with a dark hunger in his eye and Bucky’s pretty sure that if Tony were to scoot slightly closer, Peter would eat it. “W-want you to feel good too.” “We are feeling good,” Bucky sighs against Peter’s neck. He takes a deep breath, relishing in Peter’s scent and leans in further to kiss the skin, feeling the veins throb beneath it. His hand snakes into the towel to trace his thumb back and forth over Peter’s cock. The shaft twitches and Peter moans. “Wanna make you- oh- make you feel even better, then.” Peter pushes his ass back against Bucky’s crotch. Bucky glances up at Tony and both men grin. “We’ve had decades and centuries to get our fill…” Bucky’s sharp teeth glide over the prominent artery of Peter’s neck. “Quite literally,” Tony adds with a nod. “Surely, we should be able to only give for one night.” Peter stays quiet for a second and then wiggles and turns in Bucky’s arms until he’s on his back so he can look at both men. Bucky leans back a little to give Peter some space. “What if I want you to take?” Bucky’s grin grows even wider, canines baring, and he pushes his thumb against Peter’s cock with a tiny bit more force. Peter is already slightly rolling his hips again and Bucky can’t help but wonder how in the world they managed to be so lucky to find him. “Then we’ll take.” The obscene moan Peter makes then, has Bucky growl and pull the towel from between them to throw it to the floor. His hips push and roll until his erect cock breaches the crack of Peter’s ass . The young man immediately arches his back to press further, eliciting a moan from Bucky. Jesus, this kid feels amazing. “Please,” Peter begs. And, oh, he begs so beautifully. “Please, take it all- take me, use me.” “Oh-” Bucky groans and pulls Peter even closer to him, entangling their legs and spreading his cheeks with one hand. The drag is dry and coarse, but one glance at Tony has the younger vampire rush to the nightstand to grab the lube. “How could we refuse an offer as tempting and gorgeous as that? As you?” Peter whines again as his hand grasps back to grab onto Bucky. His fingers dig into the immortal’s skin, while his ass is slowly going in circles “P-please-” “Please, what?” Buck grins as he turns them over, propping himself up against the bed rest and seating Peter on his thighs with his legs on either side, back freed from Bucky’s chest. He can no longer see Peter’s face, but the way his shoulders raise and his head ducks, is all Bucky needs. “Petey, please, what?” Peter shivers. Bucky has no way of telling what expressions wash over the younger man’s face, but suddenly, Tony gets on the bed again, sitting down right in front of Peter, on top of Bucky’s legs. “Look at me,” Tony orders and Peter’s muscles immediately relax when his eyes lock with Tony’s infinite browns, demanding and swirling like a pouring bottle of scotch. Bucky never admits it, but both men know Bucky is just as weak for Tony’s compulsion as any mortal is. Something about his sire is so intoxicatingly entrancing. He might have many years on Tony, but when the billionaire’s in charge, all he has to do is practice his black magic and Bucky turns into an eager, submissive fucking machine, ready to obey and serve his Master and his cock...  Wait.  Bucky turns his head away and scoffs a laugh. “You’re horrible.” “Hmm, it was worth a try...” Tony’s cheeky grin was evident through his words. His attention is quickly turned back to their new toy. “Peter…” “Yes?” Peter’s reply was a delayed sigh, sounding slightly distant and detached, as is usually the case with their thralls, if they even replied. Most weren’t strong enough to even move their lips. Peter is special, Bucky is certain. “Tell us what you want. Tell us exactly what you want to do. What you want us to do. The words we should use. The ones you want to use. Tell us.” Peter nods along gently with every word Tony utters, like a bobble head refusing to cease its movement, delicately bouncing up and down. “Everything.” As Peter attempts his arousal fueled monologue, Tony caresses his jaw and lifts his chin until Peter has no choice but to follow up and detach his ass from Bucky’s thighs. Their eyes are still locked together and the billionaire’s intense stare ensures Peter complies without protesting the loss of friction. Tony tosses Bucky the lube who licks his lips and gets to work, lubing his cock generously and stroking himself as he watches the scene unfold in front of him.. “I- I want…” Peter’s breath is shaky. Still uncertain. Scared. “Hey,” Tony whispers as he scoots closer, pulling Peter in by gently tugging at his chin. Their breaths mingle and Peter flutters his glassy eyes. “You don’t have to worry anymore. We got you. We’re going to take care of you.” Their noses touch and Peter nearly goes cross eyed.  “Let go.” Peter gasps and pushes in to press their lips together in a desperate kiss. His hips roll, cock twitching and thudding against his lower abdomen. Bucky groans as he strokes his cock faster, relishing in the display happening above him. His metal hand creeps up and squeezes Peter’s ass, resulting in a filthy moan, muffled against Tony’s lips. His lube-covered index finger then wiggles its way towards Peter’s hole. The young man twitches when Bucky circles the rim teasingly. Tony’s fingers are curled around Peter’s throat, possessively rubbing the tips into the skin and over the veins. He breaks the kiss and his voice is low. “Tell us.” “I want you to love me. Own me. Want to stop thinking and be mindless. Willing. Suggestible.” With every word Peter moans, Bucky pushes his finger in further. “Want to be yours and u-used. A slut for your cocks. A slave for y-your touch.” Bucky adds a second finger and pumps a little faster, curling his fingers in the search for Peter’s sweet spot. Peter relaxes so easily around his digits. Bucky can’t wait to rail him. “Want you to put me under your spell. Make me addicted to your sex. Ready and waiting for you to fuck my prepped holes at any time as you see fit. Want it all.” Peter moans as Bucky’s metal hand digs into the skin at his hip and pulls him down, lining him up with Bucky’s cock. “Want to be filled.” Bucky immediately grants his wish and replaces his finger with the head of his dick. Slowly, he pushes in. Peter can barely hold his composure as he continues. “H-horny and desperate, hard and aching-nng-” “Good boy,” Tony praises as he slowly lifts Peter’s hips and pushes him back down to bottom out. “Such a good, pretty boy.” Peter shivers and throws his head back, only to be pulled up straight again by Tony’s calloused hands. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Peter blinks twice and moans at the drag on his insides. Bucky guesses the boy is becoming familiar with the hazy feeling, succumbing more easily with every wave of enforced submission that washes over him. Bucky knows the feeling all too well. Loves it all the same. Bucky lays still, savouring the feeling of being inside Peter. He’ll let Tony do all the work. “Look-Luh… Ye…” “What’s that, puppet?” “Yes.” “Yes… What?” “Y… What- what do you want me to call you?” Bucky lets out a surprised laugh. “Oh, we get to pick?” “You’re in charge,” Peter mumbles honestly, still staring straight into Tony’s eyes. “P-please, tell me what to call you-” Bucky’s cock twitches inside Peter and the vampire groans quietly. “Hmm,” Tony hums, inching closer to Peter again and letting his hands roam the younger man’s sides. “You want to be our slave, don’t you?” Peter barely moved, but it was obvious he nodded. “Yes-” “You want to serve us? Please us? Obey us?” “Yes, yes, please-” “Be our pretty puppet? Our toy?” “Please-” Tony rolls his ass once and Bucky’s face twists with pleasure. “Play with me?” “Oh, doll, of course-” Bucky growls as his hands grab Peter’s hips in an attempt to push him even further down onto him, if that were even possible. “We’ll play with you all night…” “After too?” The words would’ve sounded so innocent if they weren’t paired with an obscene moan. “Forever, if you’ll let us,” Tony whispers as he licks a stripe over Peter’s collarbone. “Forever-” Peter repeats breathlessly, raising himself up with the last strength he has so he can fuck himself on Bucky’s cock. “God, doll, you feel so good around me,” Bucky moans as he pushes his hips up to meet with Peter’s. Tony sits back up straight again so he can capture Peter with his eyes once more. “Doing so well for us, Peter,” he praises, taking Peter’s face in his hands, cupping his jaw and drawing circles over the skin with his thumbs. Peter shivers and clenches around Bucky, eliciting another moan from him. “Not too fast, sweet thing,” Tony chuckles. “Savor it... Keep your gaze locked with mine as you go up and down on Bucky’s cock.” He speaks slowly, with a dark undertone, and Bucky has to remind himself to keep his shit together, or he will fall for Tony just as hard. “Up…” Tony waits patiently for Peter to get to his knees again. “And down… Thaaat’s it. Again…” “Good boy…” “Just like that…” “Up… And down…” “Feels good doesn’t it?” “Doing as told…” “Obeying my commands…” “Up… And down…” “There’s so much pleasure in obedience…” “Just let it happen… Let go…” “Up… And down... “ “Feel the drag of his cock inside you… How it throbs and pulsates…” “That’s right, moan for me…” “So pretty…” “Good boys.” Peter Benjamin Parker Tony’s words bounce through Peter’s head just as slowly as he’s bouncing on Bucky’s cock. Peter is floating yet again. He knows he’s riding Bucky, but he can’t feel how his muscles ache with overuse. He has no idea how long he’s been here, staring into Tony’s infinite pools of darkness, pushing himself down to be filled so deliciously. But he feels good. And that’s all that matters. “Peter… Repeat the next word Bucky says. Can you do that for me?” Peter nods, head bobbing rather than giving a clear confirmation. “Bucky,” Tony suddenly says, quite casually. “Master.” Peter shudders at the word, unsure why Bucky of all people would say it? Did… Did Tony put him under too? “M-” Peter could barely bring the word to fall from his lips, pleasure tensing up every one of his muscles. “Master.” Tony immediately tugs at Peter’s hair, making him moan again. “Oh, aren’t you two my good boys… Turn around for me, Peter, go have a look at who’s fucking you so well…” Peter barely registers how Tony helps him switch positions, until he and Bucky lock gazes. There’s something distant about the usually so piercing blue eyes and both men moan when they’re joined together again. “Go on, my pretties… Find Peter’s sweet spot. Make yourselves feel good for me. Make me proud.” Tony chuckles darkly. “Not too fast, though.” Peter’s head swims as he rolls his hips to come together with Bucky’s. The older vampire’s eyes are the polar opposite of Tony’s. From deep woods to blue ice. Bucky is like a machine. His thrusts are calculated. Precise. Rhythmic. Mind-numbing. It takes a few tries and a few angles, but when Bucky’s cock pushes in just right, Peter freezes in place, mouth opened in a silent cry. “Keep going.” Yes. Peter wants to keep going. And so, he does, feeling Tony pressing his body against Peter’s, cock against his back and arms looping around so his fingers tease around Peter’s leaking shaft. “Look at him, Peter.” The young man had never looked away from Bucky in the first place, but the order solidifies it all. “Bucky is your Master…” Tony’s lips caress the nape of Peter’s neck. “Say it.” Peter whines softly. “B-Bucky is my Master.” He wants to squeeze his eyes shut, but he can’t look away or turn his head. He’s stuck in this overwhelming situation, but he’s certain he never wants to get out. Bucky’s hands on Peter’s hips squeeze, digging their fingers into the skin. “You will do whatever he says.” “I will do wh-whatever he says.” Peter’s obedience is rewarded with a pinch of both nipples, and with Bucky hitting his prostate every time, he’s sure he looks like a mess. He’s sweaty, nearly drooling, as his cock already is. “I am Bucky’s Master.” “You are Bucky’s Master.” Peter knows where this is headed and he’s living for it. Can’t wait to say the words Tony wants him to say. “He does whatever I say.” “He-” Peter clenches around Bucky’s cock, putting his hand on the tensed and toned chest below him for extra balance. “He does whatever you say.” “Now, pretty Peter… You’re a smart, good boy, aren’t you? What does that mean?” Bucky is Peter’s Master. Tony is Bucky’s Master. The math is simple. “You’re my Master,” Peter breathes as he bottoms out again, straining every part of his body. “I will do whatever you say.” “Thaaat’s it… Such a good boy.” Tony’s fingers trace over Peter’s cock and he gasps with a wide smile on his face as his body finally manages to relax again. Whenever either of the vampires uses that voice on Peter, he turns to mush. It’s soft and delicate, yet demanding and forceful. Disobeying it is impossible and every word feels like an attack on all of Peter’s sensitive spots. It fucks with Peter’s head deliciously. Immeasurable pleasure. Insanity. Addiction. Lust. It’s everything. Bucky is unreadable. Stern. Hot. Peter has no idea how close either of them is to coming, but that is honestly the last thing on his mind right now. Or whatever is left of his mind. All that matters are Tony, Bucky and Peter’s ultimate submission. “You two look so wonderful together,” Tony sighs. “Made for each other… That dog was a blessing in disguise.” Tony toys with Peter’s cock; squeezing it, tugging at it, circling the tip like a spiral. Peter and Bucky still stare at each other, completely infatuated with the other’s presence as Peter goes up and down… Up… And down.... “And you solidified his obsession with you by making a fuss over his Cold Coffee.” “I- I made him drop it-” Peter stammers, half-surprised that part of his brain turned back on at the memory of his worries. “I had to offer him another one, even if I didn’t have the funds-” “Stop.” The whole scene comes to a halt just as Peter bottoms out again, sheathing Bucky’s cock inside him. There’s a veil of shame and guilt covering his shoulders, pushing him down. “You’re not allowed to think bad thoughts. Only good ones,” Tony whispers into Peter’s ear. “Nothing else matters than what is currently happening in this room, do you understand?” “I understand.” “Look at your pretty cock, Peter. Look down.” Peter obeys and topples his head. “See all of this?” Tony’s thumb glides over the head, collecting part of the precum that was dripping out. Peter half-nods. “These are all of your worries, seeping out of your body with every inch of pleasure that we give you. And once they’re out, you can’t think bad thoughts anymore…” “Can’t think…” “They come out of your cock because pretty boys like you think with their dicks, don’t they? And the more that comes out of your shaft, the less you can think. So, why bother thinking at all?  Why not give in to me? To us? Give us your mind and your body. Feel your thoughts drip out with every pump of my hand…” It clicks with Peter, what Tony says. Master is right. He’s always right. If Peter’s mind is in his cock and his cock is leaking, then surely, he’s quite literally losing his mind… “Feels good to turn off your brain, doesn’t it?” Peter nods slightly and a rush of arousal shoots through him when Bucky nods along as well. “Continue.” Slowly, they start making love again. The concept of time eludes all three men. They’re completely caught up in each other, lost in pleasure. Something in the back of Peter’s mind tells him he should be sleeping. That he’s tired. But then, Tony didn’t tell him he’s tired. Nor did Bucky. So, he’s not tired. He keeps going, gently gyrating his hips with every push and pull, trying to milk Bucky’s cock of all its cum. He wants his Master to coat his insides and fill him up until the slickness squelches and squeaks with every movement. Peter wants it so bad- needs it. But Bucky hasn’t come yet and it’s only when Peter realizes that Bucky needs permission to release, that Peter clenches down particularly hard, eliciting the filthiest moan from the man underneath him. “Hold it there, lovelies,” Tony coos, caressing Bucky’s shivering legs and Peter’s sides. Peter has absolutely no clue where he is right now, but the grounding feeling of Bucky’s cock still inside him is all he needs right now. “Mmm… Bucky, you’re doing so well for us. So beautiful. Keep thrusting. Claim your thrall with your sex.” Tony hifts his attention after Bucky moans, sucking up the pleasure with every breath he takes- every word that’s uttered. “Peter?” Peter’s mind catches up with itself, realizing he closed his eyes. He moves his head so he can look at Tony, who has apparently stood up and walked around Peter over the mattress. When he opens his eyes, all he sees is his Master’s big cock, slowly swaying back and forth in front of him. “What do you want?” “You,” Peter sighs happily. “All of you. Both of you.” “Good boy.” Tony grins above Peter, but the young man is too enamoured with the dick in front of him. Tony angles his hips so he can drag the tip over Peter’s cheek. “Bucky’s an ass-man. Figured he should be rewarded with a good view of mine as I fuck your mouth.” Tony cocks his head. “Do you think he deserves to be rewarded, Peter?” All Peter can do is nod. Of course, Bucky deserves a reward. He’s the one who got Peter to be in this exact position. And he never wants to leave again. Tony pulls back slightly, chuckling at how Peter goes a little cross-eyed in order to keep his sights locked on his cock. “Gooood boy. Continue.” With every roll of Peter’s hips, Tony’s dick seems to dance in front of him. He wants to catch it with his mouth and relishes in the sensation of feeling it slap gently against his cheeks. “See this, Petey?” Tony asks coily. Peter nods, licking his lips and then parting them, wanting to feel soft skin on his tongue. “Your cock is nearly empty now. No bad thoughts left in that fuzzy little brain of yours, am I right?” Peter’s eyes half-close and he nods. “My cock, on the other hand, is so full with good thoughts. It throbs and aches with them. And I want to share them with you, pretty Peter… Can I give you some?” Peter throws his head back, eyes never leaving his Master’s cock, and he opens his mouth invitingly. He wants his Master’s cum- wants the good thoughts instead of the bad ones, even though - right now - he has no idea what those bad thoughts once were. What kind of man he used to be. All he knows is that he’s better now. And he feels better too.. He’s ready for them; for the good thoughts. He craves them and yearns for them. He hopes a desperate moan can convince his Master to use his mouth. Peter sticks out his tongue and enticingly flutters his eyes. “God, I’m so hard for you, sweetness. Can’t wait to sink my teeth into your flesh. Oh, I bet you taste so good.” Peter can’t reply. Not with the cock that’s now being shoved down his throat. He suckles and licks it, toying with the head as he keeps grinding. Shit, this feels terrific. Every molecule in Peter’s body is screaming at him to make Tony and Bucky, his Masters, feel terrific too. He’s convinced Bucky already is, so now, the focus will go to the throbbing shaft that rests on his tongue. He lets his teeth glide over it, tugging at twisting and- “Jesus Christ, kid, who taught you this-?!” Peter lazily looks up and moves to take his mouth of Tony’s cock to give his answer. However, Tony’s hand quickly grabs the back of Peter’s head, pushing the young man’s nose against his bush. Peter nearly gags. “Don’t reply, just keep- fuck- keep doing what you’re doing.” After a short gasp, Tony manages to angle his head down again to look Peter in the eye. “Make us cum, Peter. Make us spill.” Peter doesn’t have to be told twice. His rutting on Bucky’s cock quickens and he pushes down more deeply.  At the same time, his tongue swirls around Tony’s shaft. He can’t stop moaning, the ecstasy is too overwhelming. The longer it goes on, the more erratic Tony’s movements become. With a growl and a sigh, he tenses up and shoots his load into Peter’s throat. The young man swallows eagerly, lapping it all up. Peter keeps absentmindedly suckling on the softening cock as if it’s a popsicle, while he rides his other Master. “Oh, Bucky bear,” Tony coos and for the first time in a while, Peter hears Bucky whine. “Been on the edge for so long now, haven’t you?” “Y-yes-” “How does your thrall feel? Hmm? Tell him.” “So- so good, Peter, you’re so good for me, so good to me, oh-” Peter squeezes every part of himself, digging his fingers into Bucky’s sides. “I want to taste you, so bad-” “Would you be okay with that, Peter?” Tony gently pulls Peter off his cock. By the look on his Master’s face, Peter assumes he’s quite the sight. Puffed, red lips covered in cum- glazed over, teary eyes… “Bucky hasn’t fed in days… He’s starving, little one.” Tony caresses Peter’s face, all the while smearing his cum and saliva stained cock over Peter’s cheeks again. “May he feed from you?” “Does it hurt?” Peter counters the question with one of his own. Part of him still wants to think things through. Ask questions, on which he can base his own answer more properly. “It won’t if you don’t want it to.” Tony’s fingers slip under his jaw again, caressing the artery on his neck. He leans in slightly, capturing Peter with his eyes once again. “I’m going to tell you a vampire secret, sweet Peter… Feeding makes everyone involved feel good. So good, even, that if it tips you over the edge, you’ll stay on that high until the feed is done.” Peter shivers. He’s unsure if it’s true, or if it’s something Tony is just saying to win Peter over. But does it matter? If his Master orders him to cum, he will. For however long his Master so desires. Still, Peter is curious by nature. “H-how long?” “Hm…” Tony grins and presses their noses together, possessively squeezing Peter’s throat. “Shortest feed I’ve ever had was about a minute… But we can drag it out, my pretty. We can make you come for hours if you want to. You do want to come, don’t you?” Peter blinks once. He hadn’t given cumming much thought up until this topic came to light. His mind was mostly occupied with the pleasure his Master’s experienced. He felt absolutely amazing, yes, but coming? Only now, Peter realizes how much his own cock aches. How blue his balls must be. How desperate he is. “I want to come,” he whispers. “Good boy,” Master coos and Peter shudders. “Now, answer my question. May Bucky feed from you?” Peter moans when Tony drags his fingers from Peter’s neck down to his chest. “Yes-”  Peter manages to shut his eyes as he is moved into a different position. He’s the one on his back now, finally able to relax his muscles. He doesn’t notice how his legs are pulled up and spread and how Bucky follows every single one of Tony’s commands as he realigns himself with Peter’s gaping hole. They both grunt when he pushes in and bottoms out again. Peter’s eyes fly open as Bucky immediately hits the right spot in this position. “Fuck him hard, Buck,” Tony encourages. “He’s your thrall after all. Your toy. Your doll.” When Tony utters the last word, all the fog seems to clear from Bucky’s eyes and it’s replaced with aggression. Apparently, the word ‘doll’ was his trigger to snap out of it. “How dare you!” Bucky growls as he starts his relentless thrusts into Peter’s hole in order to chase his high. With every quick, desperate movement, Peter gasps and whines. It feels so good and Bucky’s frustration is so hot. And he’s strong; metal arm pinning Peter in place. Peter’s helpless. And it’s absolutely perfect. “What?” Tony chuckles. “Your orgasms are better after a few hours of denial. You get to feed tonight, Buck. You get to have Peter. He’s yours. Use him.” “Oh, I will.” The metal fingers move to curl around Peter’s throat, pulling at him and exposing his neck. Peter’s eyes roll back at the knowledge of the impending explosion of pleasure. “So…” Tony sounds so casual, so nonchalant. His voice is far away. Is he… In the bathroom? “How long are you gonna make him shake?” “As if I’m telling ya after whatcha just pulled.” “Hey, don’t get angry with me, I wasn’t even trying to put you under the second time. You just fell, I didn’t have to look at you once.” Somehow the fact that Tony and Bucky were arguing while Peter was used as a fucktoy did things to Peter. He wasn’t sure if he liked being ignored like this. Though, the fact that Bucky doesn’t even have to pay attention to make Peter moan with pleasure does add a bit to the tingles in his abdomen. However, he’d rather have his Masters pay attention to him. He manages to raise his hand to trace his index finger over Bucky’s chest. A blissful smile spreads on Peter’s face. With every rut of Bucky’s cock inside of him, he feels happier and happier. He wants Bucky to feel happy too. “M-Master?” Bucky’s head whips back to Peter and the man immediately realizes what he’s doing, seemingly shocked that he managed to talk over Peter. He doesn’t stop humping, though. No, he increases the speed when he sees Peter so utterly fucked out. His icy eyes darken and he bares his fangs. “Yes, darling?” He asks sweetly, a polar opposite of his movements. “Come for me?” With a loud cry, Bucky suddenly erupts inside Peter, not halting his movements as he keeps pumping and pumping and, oh, Peter feels so good. And out of nowhere, Peter’s head is turned even further and he feels two small pinches in his neck. He gasps when the sudden floods of mind numbing pleasure crash onto him wave after wave. His whole body shakes and twitches and convulses and he spurts his come all over himself. He’s lost it, babbling and moaning and screaming because nothing in his life has ever felt this mind shatteringly amazing. Bucky’s tongue and mouth are wet against his skin, lapping and sucking and Peter can feel how he’s being drained of his deepest shade of red. So good, feels so good, so good- It just keeps going and going and going and he expects it to become too much, to be overwhelmed and overstimulated, but his body just takes it and loves it and accepts it. More, more, more. Keep going. Keep cumming. Good boy. Such a good boy for you Masters. . Spent. It’s the only word Peter can conjure up when Bucky’s soft lips and flaccid cock finally detach themselves from him. He lays still, pale and exhausted. Awake, but not entirely present. Sweet praise fills his ears as he’s lifted off the bed and carried away to god knows where. It’s not a long walk and Peter gasps when he’s gently placed in a bathtub with nice, warm water. It smells like lavender… Peter doesn’t realize he’s holding onto Bucky, until the man uses his voice to part the fog in Peter’s mind. “Let go,” he orders. Peter only moans quietly, sinking deeper into the water and dragging the man with him. “Of me, sweetness, let go of me,” Bucky laughs softly and Peter’s hands relax their grip on Bucky. Peter’s head is held up above the water to prevent him from dipping under. There’s no strength left in his muscles to do so himself. The water ripples when both men join him in the large tub and start washing him gently. Every touch tickles Peter’s skin. He’s empty. A vessel for his floating mind. The four hands take care of him, cleaning every inch of his skin. They also make him drink something sugary and hand-feed him something salty. It’s when he’s on his third bite of the savoury meal - he guesses it’s some sort of cracker - that he manages to open his eyes. “Good morning,” Tony coos. Peter blinks a few times and then spots what Tony means. Golden streaks of sunlight break into the bedroom, illuminating the room with heavy yellow and orange tones. They… They went all night? “H…” Peter tries to speak, but nothing comes out. His exhaustion is just about as overwhelming as the loving warmth he’s feeling. How many hours has he been awake now? He manages to look down and notices he’s in the large glass bathtub he’d spotted the night before. “It’s okay, Peter, you don’t have to talk.” Bucky’s voice is strangely soft now. Less strained. Is it… Is that because he fed? Peter wants to turn his head to face Tony, who he only now realizes is spooning him from behind, softly petting the skin Bucky had bitten into. “We know it’s a lot to handle all at once,” Tony mumbles. “All we need to know is if you’re okay.” Peter nods slightly and Bucky moves in closer to feed him another bite. The water dances around them and he happily complies, wanting to satiate the hunger in his stomach. “You were even more than we had hoped you would be, doll.” Bucky’s thumb wipes a few crumbs from the corner of Peter’s mouth, an adoring smile on his own face. “And now, we hope you enjoyed yourself as much as we did.” Tony’s fingers twist into Peter’s curls, playing with them. Peter huffs out some air and smirks, but it falters with his lack of energy. He nods again. “Good,” Tony says staccato. His words carry so much differently when he’s not using his voice.  “We’re going to dry you up and put you into a clean bed so you can finally get the sleep you deserve so much,” Bucky explains. “Is that okay with you too?” Another nod. “Sleep with me?” Peter’s voice is hoarse, barely audible. Bucky smiles again. “Of course, pretty Peter… We’re not leaving you unless you want us to.” Peter is lifted out of the bath and carefully dried before being gently placed into the soft sheets. He curls up into them immediately and sighs happily when he feels Tony and Bucky sandwich him. They press flat pecks on his head, his shoulder, behind his ear as they continue their praise. Peter can’t believe any of this actually happened. But he’s glad it did. After months of being stuck in an endless cycle of repetitive work, he finally feels like he has a purpose again. At least, if they keep him. But, in all honesty, Peter is pretty sure they will. James Buchanan Barnes Bucky turns in his bed. The last time he looked at the clock, Peter had been sleeping for 18 hours. Well, Peter woke up a few times to eat more of the crackers, drink some, and pee, but he would always immediately stumble back to bed and crash again straight away. Tony spent the day in his lab and went back to bed quite late. Bucky stayed with Peter to take care of him whenever the young man needed him too, but he didn’t quite catch himself drifting off as well… Bucky reaches out, aiming to pull Peter close to him, but then his nose twitches. The bed smells of his delicious Peter, but it’s… Distant. Bucky pats an empty space next to him and his eyes open wide. A bit further away from him is Tony, peacefully sleeping, but Peter… Peter’s gone. “Tones-” Bucky slaps the man on the shoulder. Tony jolts awake and sits upright, looking around confused. “Wha-?” “Where the fuck-” And then they hear it… Soft hums, singing a tune neither man recognizes, and the clanking of pans. Tony and Bucky turn their heads to look at each other and then at the door. They then quickly scramble out of the bed, rushing towards their living space. When they open the door, they’re met with Peter in their open kitchen. He’s… Baking? Peter looks up surprised and fails miserably at hiding his laughter at the two feral, naked men, sheets still clutched in their hands. “Good morning to you too,” Peter chuckles. “I, eh…” He gestures at the messy counter in front of him. “I got hungry, but you didn’t really have any food, so I figured I’d bake some bread?” Tony and Bucky visibly relax, lowering their shoulders. “You can bake?” Tony asks bewildered as he sits down on the bar stool at the counter, legs spread to give his dick some space. “I mean, I do work in a bakery, you know?” “It smells amazing,” Bucky praises as he walks towards Peter, around the kitchen counter. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that Peter opted to wear nothing but the apron this morning. “You smell amazing.” “Thank you.” A lovely blush creeps onto Peter’s face. Bucky wraps his arms around Peter, pressing his morning wood against Peter’s pert ass. His lips find the skin he’d bitten into on their night of fireworks and he sticks his tongue out to gently rub it over the sore spots his sharp teeth had left. Peter gasps and immediately pushes back against Bucky’s cock.  “B-before we do anything else-” Peter stutters. “Hm?” “We need to discuss a few things.” Tony frowns and approaches them as well. “Oh dear,” he quips. Bucky lets go of Peter and gives him the space to do his talking. In the meantime Peter turns around to make the three of them a good cup of coffee to start the day. “It’s nothing bad, I promise,” Peter says with a smile. “I just need you to do one thing.” “Oh!” Tony claps his hands in delight. “You already want to make use of our skills? Cheeky.” “No!” Peter exclaims, grinding the beans. “All I want is for you to offer Betty a job.” “Who’s Betty again?” Peter sighs exasperated at Tony’s question, but the billionaire quickly remembers. “Oh! The other girl who was supposed to be serving us on Friday?” “Yes.” Peter turns on the coffee machine, frothing their milk as he speaks. “She lost her job because of your little stunt.” “Wait, what?” Bucky scratches the back of his head. “That was never our intention.” “Well, tell that to Beck.” “The guy you told to pull his own weight?” “Yep.” Peter finishes up the first cup of coffee and passes it to Tony. “He fired her cause she could barely walk.” “Jesus. Alright, what’s her skillset?” “She’s studying biochem here in New York. Super smart. I’m sure she’ll be an asset to your company.” Tony roars a laugh and slaps his bare knee. “Look at you,” he coos. “You’re gonna make a great personal assistant.” “Just-” Peter shakes his head, finishing up the second coffee. “Just help her out, okay?” “Don’t you worry about her, Peter.” Bucky pushes himself against Peter again, still allowing him enough space to make the last coffee. “We’ll offer her a job.” “Thank you.” “Anything for you, lovely.” Bucky kisses the top of Peter’s head and the young man immediately leans in for more. He shifts and turns, placing the last cup on the counter to kiss Bucky back properly. His hips start rolling again, rutting against Bucky’s leg. Bucky’s fingers move to untie the apron behind Peter’s back and he pulls it out from between them so Peter can hump Bucky’s thigh more freely, cock already aching again. Peter moans, letting his hands roam Bucky’s chest.  It’s not long before Tony joins them, once again sandwiching Peter between the two of them. They can hear the blood rushing through Peter’s body and they grin at how Peter’s neediness grows with every second. Tony and Bucky had promised themselves to let Peter replenish all of his stamina before putting him under again, but their discipline crumbles when Peter moans. “M-Master?” Bucky lifts Peter up just like he did in the shower and walks him back to the bedroom. Tony follows and raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “Quicky?” He asks. “Quicky.” Bucky confirms. But with how their sloppy kisses and needy rutting was evolving into more, Bucky was sure he’d come back out of the bedroom to a cold coffee.

[cake-writes]

Compromise (Part Four)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Bucky, Ex-Relationship, Co-Parenting Drama, Angst, Fluff, Separation Anxiety

Summary: You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise.

Part Three / Master List

After breakfast, Bucky went to change into a pair of jeans for your ‘family outing,’ as it were. Car shopping, just as promised. Why the prospect of that made you so nervous, you weren’t sure, but you had to tell yourself that you were doing this for Winnie and Winnie only. Not for you. As nice as it might have been to spend time with Bucky, and not to have him nagging you about your old car – your daughter was more important.

Anxiously tapping your nails (or at least what was left of them) against the kitchen counter, you waited for the sink to fill. He’d made breakfast, so you thought it would be good to do the dishes as a thank you. And, well, that was how the two of you used to split those chores when you and Bucky were still living together. Whoever didn’t cook did the dishes. That was the norm.

You didn’t notice until the sink was full and you were scrubbing away that you’d already fallen back into an old routine. In an instant, you froze.

What were you doing?

Playing pretend. Like everything was peachy keen, and the last three years were a fluke. Like he hadn’t broken too many promises to count.

That was what you were doing.

You were acting like the fool you’d always been for him. Hell, you’d already fallen back into the same stupid routine. Would you fall back into bed with him, too? Lord knows you wanted to, and that made you feel even worse.

How stupid could you be?

With a huff, you did a quick scan of the living room and found Winnie happily absorbed in the same cartoon she’d been watching yesterday. Bucky must have put it on for her before he went to change. She looked so sweet and innocent – happy – yet here you were, thinking about a pipe dream that would just hurt her.

There was no way this was going to end without her getting hurt, let alone you.

“You okay?”

At the sudden sound of Bucky’s voice, you jumped and dropped the plate in your hands into the sink with a loud splash.

“I’m fine,” you replied, tone short, refusing to look at him in favour of washing the plate. Your movements with the sponge were brisk, almost like you’d be able to just scrub away your worries. No dice. The leftover syrup may have come off, but your thoughts were still a mess.

There was a brief pause where you felt Bucky’s eyes on you, studying you, trying to figure you out. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that something was wrong. These days it was like your mood changed at the drop of a hat; you were entirely too on edge around him, and for good reason.

You didn’t want to get hurt.

That was when he placed his hand on your shoulder – kind, familiar. The warmth from it seeped through your blouse, and the way he spoke to you was so incredibly gentle that it made you wish for a brief moment that things were back to how they used to be. It was so much easier to argue with him than it was to feel like this. “What is it, sweetheart?”

You let the plate go and rest your hands on the counter in front of you, letting out a shaky breath. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

His hand slowly moved from your shoulder to the middle of your back, before he asked softly, “Then why are you crying?”

What?

The tears blurring your vision were unmistakable. You never used to cry so easily. Why now?

“Just got something in my eye,” was the flimsy excuse you gave him, an obvious lie. After you wiped your hands on a dish towel, you finally turned to face him; there wasn’t really any other option, because it was the only way out of the kitchenette and you needed to get away from him, from this.

He was too close. He always got too close.

Once upon a time, you would have loved that. Not now.

Bucky’s eyes were the softest blue on yours, and although you could tell he didn’t believe you, he didn’t press further. Instead, he hesitantly pulled his hand away and stepped aside, offering you a sympathetic smile. “Go get it, then. I’ll finish these.”

He knew, but he chose not to say anything. That was even worse than being called out on your lie. You didn’t want his pity. You didn’t want anything from him.

Except you did. That was the problem.

You brushed past him without a word, somehow keeping your head held high and your pace steady as the tears rolled down your cheeks – but right before you shut the bathroom door, a sob escaped you, one loud enough that he definitely would have heard it even without his enhanced hearing.

God, you were an idiot.

Why were you letting him back in? He didn’t deserve it after everything he’d put you and Winnie through. He’d abandoned you both when you needed him, and now, two years later, he wanted to be involved again – now that it was convenient for him.

Not for you.

No, your entire life was being flipped upside down, and you had no say in any of it. After all, the whole reason you’d brought your daughter here was because he’d strongarmed you under threat of legal action. It wasn’t because he cared. No, it was a power play, and his offer to buy a car for the two of you was just another one. You’d be so indebted to him that you wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’. And then he’d take and take all over again.

The water ran ice cold from the faucet, jarring you from your racing thoughts. In the mirror, you looked like hell: red-rimmed eyes, flushed nose, blotchy complexion. You quickly washed away your tears and blotted at your face with a hand towel, trying and failing to ignore the nostalgic scent of his fabric softener. You had to stop buying that particular brand after you left.

He couldn’t do this to you and Winnie again. He couldn’t.

You wouldn’t let him – and you were out of the bathroom before you knew it.

“Winnie,” you called out, voice rough from crying which quickly drew her attention from the TV to you. Immediately, those big blue eyes of hers were wide in alarm, but before she could say anything you instructed, “Get your things. We’re leaving.”

While normally she might have whined or argued, she didn’t this time. Instead she did exactly as she was told – hopped down from the couch and ran to her room to retrieve her belongings.

Then your eyes fixed on Bucky. He was still at the sink, hands covered in suds, staring at you with a mixture of shock and indignation – which, of course, soon gave way to annoyance.

“What the hell did I do this time?”

“Everything,” you bit out, collecting your purse from the coffee table. “This was a mistake. I never should have brought her here.”

“A mistake?” he asked, angrily wiping his hands with the same dish towel you’d discarded on the countertop. “I’m her father!”

“Yeah? Then where the hell have you been?” you snapped. “Because I don’t remember having any help raising her. It was all me.”

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh and dropped the towel back on the counter. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. I had to work.”

“Oh, of course. You had to work.” Snorting derisively, you slung your purse over your shoulder. “Who takes her to the doctor, Bucky? Who takes care of her when she’s sick? Buys her meds? Packs her lunches? I do. And guess what? I have to work too, but you don’t see me using that as an excuse—”  

He interrupted you by saying your name in a tone that caught you off guard – harsh, biting. “You’re the one who left.”

If you stayed, you wouldn’t have had to work. His salary was more than enough.

“I’m not a fucking housewife, Bucky!” you hissed. “You think I want to wait around all day for you to come home? Fluff some pillows on the sofa, maybe bake some cookies? This isn’t the 40’s!”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m well aware,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm. “And for the record, I never asked you for a damn thing.”

“Yeah, because you were never here,” you bit out, fingers tightly digging into the strap of your purse as you held it on your shoulder. “Why should I be forced to rely on someone who’s never here? Who never wanted to be? Christ, Bucky, maybe if I was with Hydra then you’d actually listen to me for once!”

At those final words, a flash of hurt came across his face, one that instantly let you know how out of hand this argument had gotten – but it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by a certain hard edge to his features that made your heart ache.

That was out of line. Way, way out of line.

You knew you should apologize, but as always, your pride got in the way. Bucky had put you through too much, hurt you and your daughter in too many ways. He didn’t deserve an apology. Not when he still had yet to apologize for everything he’d done to you and Winnie.

Right?

“Stop fighting,” came Winnie’s wavering voice from the hallway, then, and your eyes shot to her. She was peeking her head out of her room, chin wobbling like she was about to cry. “Please?”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Damn it,” Bucky swore under his breath, not loud enough for her to hear – then, louder, “It’s okay, princess, we’ll stop.” After that, he knelt down and beckoned for her to come over. “Come here. It’s okay.”

The heartbroken expression on her face immediately turned the fire of your hurt, your upset, your anger into an insignificant smoulder. You were a hypocrite; you’d just gotten on Bucky’s case less than a day ago for starting an argument in front of her, and now you’d done it, too.

“Why do you always have to fight?” she asked quietly, fidgeting with the hem of her dress as she approached the two of you.

You swallowed thickly, throat dry. While there were a million answers you could have given her, you couldn’t think of a single one. All you could focus on was how upset you’d made her.

Bucky gently brushed the hair out of her face. “Sometimes Mommy and Daddy don’t agree on things, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love you, Winnie. We love you more than anything.”

“That’s right,” you chimed in, getting to your knees, too. “We love you so, so much, baby.”

“But Mommy and Daddy don’t love each other,” Winnie said with a frown. “How come?”

Plenty of lies came across your mind, but you didn’t want to lie to her – so you decided to tell her the truth. “Mommy does love Daddy. It’s just… complicated.”

Bucky tensed up beside you at the admission. Of course he did. He probably thought you were lying.

“What’s ‘com-pa-cated’?”  

You chewed your lip for a moment, trying to formulate a good answer.

“Do you remember Brandon from preschool?” When she nodded, you added, “You like Brandon a lot, right? But he picks on you sometimes, even though you’re friends. That’s complicated.”

“So Daddy picks on Mommy?” she asked.

You gave her a shrug. “Mommy picks on Daddy, too.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“Because we want things we’ll never have from each other,” Bucky told her.

It might have been a jab, but you got the feeling that it wasn’t. Honestly, you had no idea what the hell he meant by that on his side of things, but on yours, it was pretty clear.

“Are we still leaving, Mommy?” Winnie asked with a frown. “I wanna stay.”

“Well,” you began, smoothing her collar down for the umpteenth time – another distraction, “I guess that’s up to Daddy.”

She looked over at him, but you didn’t.

You needed to apologize.

“Yeah, princess, you can stay.” Hesitantly, he brought his hand to the side of your neck, cool vibranium against flushed skin. Your eyes immediately snapped to his. “I’d like you to stay, too. I’ll listen.” Then his hand fell to his side. “If… If you want.”

At that, your heart skipped a beat.

“Okay,” was all you could say. “We’ll stay.”

Just for a few hours.

Just for today.

Part Five

[unsteadygalaxy]

all is soft inside chapter 6

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/66135538

previous | next

6. street walkers, small talkers

Notes at the end.

The three of them land in Thermal, blessedly alone.  Wattson had been more than happy to agree to play today’s match more passively, and Lifeline had agreed, though Elliott could tell she really didn’t want to.

“Looking for a Wingman today, ladies,” Mirage announces, jogging over to the next supply bin. It’s got a box of heavy ammo, which he stows, and two Mozambique’s, which he steadily ignores. His brain feels foggy but over excited at the same time. The shock of seeing Bloodhound- actually seeing their face- had not quite worn off. 

He flings open the door but stops dead in his tracks, words dying in his mouth. For a moment, a moment that seems to stretch out into lifetimes, all he sees is a person sitting on the hard cement floor- the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. His jaw drops open. Their face is surprised, shocked, but somehow, that makes Elliott find them all the more gorgeous. A strong jawline gives way to defined cheekbones, leading up to stunning green eyes that are filled with alarm. Their red hair falls around their face in long waves, and is set aflame by the light of the hallway behind him. Who is this person? His eyes flicker down to whatever they’re holding in their hands, and he swears his heart stops. He knows those goggles. They belong to Bloodhound.

Which means… that’s Bloodhound sitting there on the floor.

Elliott immediately smacks his hand over his eyes as words spill out of his mouth like a waterfall.

He’d been up most of the night, replaying those moments in his head over and over again. Bloodhound had not looked at all what he thought they would look like. And their hair! Their hair was incredible. He never expected it to be ginger; for some reason he had always imagined it dark, maybe brunette or black. All Elliott could think about was running his fingers through their hair and brushing out the tangles. But their eyes… he never would have guessed they’d be such a gorgeous shade of green. And they were so kind-looking, too. Ever since he had inadvertently seen their face, his stomach did flips every time he thought about them. He’d stayed awake for hours waiting for his body to settle. 

Elliott remembers how rich and melodic their real voice had sounded without the modulator, and he finds himself wishing he could go back to the night before. He’d been an absolute mess in multiple ways, but being alone with Bloodhound was worth the turmoil. And their laugh! Even though it came mostly at his expense, he had nearly lost his mind actually hearing them laugh fully and uninhibited. If he focused hard enough he could hear it over and over again in his head, and the sound of it made him a little weak at the knees. 

“Wingman here!” Lifeline calls. “Get yuh head out of the clouds, Witt!”

Mirage shakes himself from his reverie and looks up. Lifeline holds the sturdy pistol aloft, smirking.

“Thanks, I owe you one!” he replies. He makes his way over to her and picks up the gun, passing it back and forth between his hands. Elliott can’t help but smile as he remembers the last time he fired a Wingman. Well, I mean, technically you fired it this morning at the range but- whatever. He grins at the memory of shooting the gun at Bloodhound as they rocketed down the hill, glowing red. But now, a different image takes form in the forefront of his mind- Bloodhound flying across the field, their hair undone and billowing in a fury, their green eyes shimmering with golden light.

“Yuh gonna get a room with that thing?” Lifeline chimes, a laugh pressing at her voice. “Looks like you two need some alone time.”

“Wh- what?” Mirage stammers, jerking himself out of his thoughts for the second time that day. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He holsters the gun as his face burns fiercely.

-----

“Mirage! Duck!”

Mirage dives away from the door just as a volley of bullets comes whizzing through it. He slams it shut. “Good one, Nat!” he calls. Wattson is crouched next to the window, reloading her R-99 with flying fingers. Her pylon whizzes in the other room, generating a field of electrical energy that makes Mirage’s sinuses buzz. She sets the gun aside for a brief moment in order to place two fence posts in front of the door.

In their oh-so-fabulous luck, the final ring just so happened to be around Fragment, which had made the match a decent trek across the map. They’d held their own considerably well, and each of them had a few kills under their belts. The ring had nearly bottlenecked them in the pass between Sorting and their current location, but they had pushed up the hill, third partying a team on the way and coming out victorious.

A frag grenade comes careening through the window, only to be immediately neutralized in a flash of blue light. Thank God for Wattson’s pylon, Mirage thinks, slotting the Skullpiercer he had just found into his Wingman. The sounds of gunfire and exploding grenades pepper the air around him, and it’s giving him a headache. “Hey, Lifeline! Would you mind tossing down a care package to give us some cover?” he yells into the comms amidst all the noise. 

“Won’t do much, seein’ as we’re on the second floor, but I can try an’ block the stairs, she replies. She’s crouched in the corner, her drone glowing and whirring beside her. Pulling out a small device that looks vaguely like a grocery store scanner, she leaps down the stairs and out of sight. Mirage sends a decoy after her for good measure. 

Very near his head, the occasional bullet whistles through the window, coming dangerously close to both him and Wattson. He’s not sure who’s shooting at them, but he has a vague idea- only Bangalore is that accurate with the G7. He scoots over to the side and peeks through the window to try and get a look at who’s been wailing on them. Sure enough, a woman with a tidy stack of curly hair is crouched low, aiming down the sights of her scout rifle from the building across from them.

“Having fun out there, Williams?” Mirage yells across the way after he dives out of sight once more. He’s almost positive she can’t hear him, but he says it anyway. 

“Is that you, Witt?” she yells back. “Might wanna get your head out of your ass and fight, instead of hiding like a coward!” Two warning shots fly through the window, and Mirage scoots away, his heart hammering in his chest. Wattson mutters something in French that he does not understand as she reaches for her Triple Take. 

Ouch. Now he’s annoyed. He registers the sound of Lifeline’s care package slamming into the ground as he peeks out the window again, gripping his Wingman tightly. A large smoke grenade canister flies towards them but is zapped away by Wattson’s pylon. Now they’re just taunting us, he thinks. He takes careful aim at Bangalore’s head, but two shots from her G7 strike him in the shoulder, throwing him back. A low humming sound emanates from his shield as the pylon recharges it, and he starts to think, hard.

An ominous humming sound fills the air, and Mirage snaps his head up just in time to see Bangalore and Pathfinder running across the open square. The familiar whine of Gibraltar’s Ultimate fills the air, and missiles begin to strike the ground in a concussive barrage that makes Mirage’s ears hurt. To his dismay, Pathfinder quickly grapples away, but not after taking a hit or two. Bangalore dashes between the missiles but takes a large amount of damage, and she stumbles. 

Perfect, Mirage thinks. He waits for the barrage to stop, and throws open the door. He leaps from the balcony and hits the ground hard, his knees groaning in protest. Through the smoke, the sights of his Wingman detect a red figure, and Mirage takes aim. It only takes two well placed shots to finish her off, and Bangalore falls to the ground, swearing. “What was that about me being a coward?” he taunts as Bangalore fades away.

She tries to choke something out, but she only spits blood. MIirage can’t help but feel a little sorry for her; he had been in the same position not too long ago. Bangalore slumps to the ground with a finality, just as the smoke clears. A short distance away, Lifeline stands over an incapacitated Pathfinder, and Wattson is keeping up a steady rhythm of sniper shots in the direction they had run from. Mirage ducks behind the pillars outside the building and reloads his gun. “I think there are only four people left!” he announces.

kzzzhhhCRACK!

Elliott’s blood crystallizes into ice inside his veins. He knows that sound. And he knows who is holding the fully charged Sentinel that made it. 

Right in front of his eyes, Lifeline falls to the ground. Her head is bleeding in waves, and she isn’t moving. Without thinking, he leaves his cover and runs towards Lifeline’s eerily still form. kzzzhhhCRACK! Another shot divides the air around him, and the next shot connects with his head, pain blooming across his skull. His helmet fizzles out, and with no hesitation, he activates his Ultimate. The holo-emitters hum and buzz, and five decoys jump into being around him. Abandoning Lifeline’s body, he makes a mad dash for the building where Wattson is still camped, hoping and praying her pylon is still up. 

The frightful buzz of a Charge Rifle chases him in bursts, and the heat of it catches his left shoulder for a brief moment. He hisses in pain, and dives behind the pillars, tucking into a deft tumble. Mirage pops to his feet and pushes the doors open. To his utter dismay, the doors shred into tiny pieces, neutralized by Wattson’s electric fences. “Dammit!” he yells, and rushes up the stairs.

Wattson is still crouched at the window, steadily shooting at the building with four bins atop it across the way. “Lifeline got Sentinel’d,” he gasps, breathing heavily. “Who’s left?”

“I believe Caustic is the third member of Bangalore and Pathfinder’s squad,” she answers, her voice even and calm as he plunges his arm into a shield battery. “I think the other remaining squad is Bloodhound, Gibraltar, and Renee.”

Mirage notes with a curiosity that Wattson had not used Wraith’s code name, and he wonders in a wild moment if there was something Wattson wasn’t telling him. He finds himself wishing he knew Bloodhound’s name, and wondering what it would feel like to whisper their name in their ear as he-

He stops that train of thought as swiftly as it had come. Focus, dumbass! Elliott shakes himself out of his thoughts once again, discards the depleted battery, and realizes with a jolt that he’d missed the last thing Wattson had said.

“Mirage?” she asks, her voice exuding patience even amidst their tense situation.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“We can still win this. I know we can!” She gives him a smile that punches him straight in the heart with how honest and sincere it is. 

“You’re so damn wholesome,” he grumbles under his breath. “Alright, how are we going to do this?”

“Well,” she considers, turning back to her sniper rifle. “I am almost positive- get it?-  that Caustic has barricaded himself in the train station. I saw him run over when Gibraltar sent his missiles down. Bloodhound and their team must be over near the survey beacon- that is where Lifeline was shot from.”

Mirage nods, digesting the information. “Okay, so do you think we should try and take the train station and get set up in there?”

“It’s worth a shot,” she replies. “We can make a detour through the building to our right so we are not sniped. I will also need to find more ammo for my R-99.”

“Sounds good.” He peeks out the window one last time, and sure enough, he spots a familiar figure squatting atop a building, above the zipline shaft. He swears his heart skips a beat or two at the sight of them holding the Sentinel steady. kzzzhhhCRACK! A bullet comes whizzing through the window and Mirage dodges it, but just barely. “All right, time to leave!”

Wattson dismantles her pylon with the press of a button and loads it onto her back. Mirage’s sinuses stop buzzing, and he scratches his nose as the two of them run down the stairs and out the door. They round the corner, and a giddy delight shoots through Mirage’s veins when he sees Lifeline’s care package. A Mastiff hangs from one side of the package, blessedly out of Bloodhound’s line of sight. “Oh, hell yes!” Mirage yells, and he immediately dashes up to grab it. Wattson continues on, running towards the door of the next building. The shotgun almost seems to vibrate in his hands as he picks it up and discards his Spitfire. It takes everything in him to not jump in the air like a twelve-year-old. 

“Mirage!” Wattson calls.

“Yeah, coming!” He slings the large shotgun over his back and darts across the open space and into the next building. The air is eerily silent, and the lack of noise makes Elliott nervous. The pair of them pass through the lobby to the double doors, and Mirage peeks through the blue glass as Wattson picks up more light ammo. Sure enough, he can just barely make out the edge of a gas trap pressed against the inside of the doors to the train station. How those doors hadn’t been blown up yet was anyone’s guess. He fishes in his bag for an arc star and emerges victorious. Bloodhound and their team shouldn’t have a line of sight on them, so he readies the arc star and opens the door. Mirage lobs the grenade as hard as he can across the street and into the double doors, and they explode in a fantastic flash of blue light. Caustic’s gas trap bursts open, spewing toxic green fumes everywhere before it collapses in on itself with an ominous hiss. 

“Excellent!” Wattson exclaims, readying a fence post. “Try to get around to the north side of the building. I will fence this door.” She crouches low, checks their surroundings, and runs full speed across the street. Elliott follows, but turns sharply and hugs the wall  northward. He peeks around the corner, holding his breath, Mastiff at the ready. No one is there, so he sneaks along the wall and crouches just outside the door. He readies a frag grenade, pulls the pin, and places it outside the doors before sprinting back the way he came. A deafening boom wrecks his ears for just a moment, and he can just barely make out the horrible spitting noise of the gas trap as it goes off. 

Ears ringing, he turns and begins running toward the doors again. Just as the smoke and gas dissipate, he gains sight of a hulking figure lumbering down the stars. Mirage raises his Wingman, but he is too late. An entire clip of Flatline ammo slams into his chest, shredding through his armor and peppering him with holes. But his body is nothing more than blue-white light, and he flashes out of existence.

The real Mirage can’t help but giggle as his decoy dissolves into the air. “You got bamboozled,” he murmurs to himself, absolutely delighted. He checks his weapons, making sure they’re reloaded, and grabs his last grenade. Mirage twists the canister and throws the thermite. It slams into the ground just inside the doors and expands off to either side, sputtering and whooshing. He hears a grunt of pain and knows that Caustic has been caught in some of the blaze.

Mirage cheers silently and hefts his Mastiff into his hands. He prays that Wattson has had enough time to block off all the doors, and he sprints over. Caustic runs to the west side of the building, and immediately gets caught by a torrent of bullets from Wattson’s R-99. Mirage leaps over the wall of fire, aims down the sights of his Mastiff and pulls the trigger. A collection of bullets hits Caustic in the shoulder and back as the bigger man turns, making his shield blink and shatter. Wattson takes advantage of his distraction and shoots him squarely in the head. Caustic hits the ground immediately, and Mirage is reminded of the day before, when Bloodhound had taken him down. Andskoti, he thinks. He doesn’t really know what the word means, but he’s pretty sure it’s some kind of insult. 

Elliott finally notices the dull burning in his legs, just as the thermite grenade stops pulsing. His shield has been depleted almost completely. “Hey, Wattson, do you have another pylon?” he asks, fishing in his bag for a shield cell. 

She nods, breathing hard. “Got it!” The pylon is up instantly, and the familiar buzzing returns to Mirage’s nose. “Only one squad left!” Wattson says happily, running over to the north door to place fences. “We’ve got this!”

“We’re not done yet,” Mirage says, just as a very familiar sound vibrates through the air. It reaches his chest, seizing his heart and squeezing it uncomfortably. That otherworldly roar that had haunted Mirage in his dreams the night before echoes and amplifies inside his skull until his temples creak and groan. But he can’t help but love it; he can’t help but love the way Bloodhound’s voice reverberates inside his skull and overwhelms his senses.

Much too late, he notices that Wattson’s fence posts outside the west door have been shot down. An arc star comes careening across the way, but it is zapped away. Mirage finds himself thanking whatever God there is for Wattson’s pylon for the second time that day. He loots Caustic’s death box in a hurry and grabs the three frag grenades he had been stashing, as well as a shield battery. 

A wave of red-orange energy buzzes through the air around them, making the hair on Mirage’s arms stand up inside his suit. “Bloodhound’s got us!” he yells to Wattson, who has just finished fencing the exits. 

“Watch the south door!” Wattson calls. Mirage rushes by her and runs up the south-side staircase. He lingers on the balcony, Wingman at the ready. 

The sound of footsteps echoes all around him, and he starts to feel jittery and anxious. Where are they going to come through first? Can he and Wattson really hold off all three of them? Is he going to be able to keep himself together? He hopes so, but the fear is starting to overtake him again, and he does not like it.

The east doors swing open and instantly shatter when they make contact with Wattson’s interior fence. Mirage leaps off the short balcony in an instant to bar the entrance. Gibraltar is on the other side of the fences, and he fires a volley of bullets very close to Mirage’s head. Some of them connect with his shoulder, but Mirage dodges out of the way and fires his Wingman. One shot connects with Gibraltar’s head, and the next three hit his shoulder and chest. He wavers, and his R-301 nearly topples out of his hands as he stumbles backwards. The larger man fires at the ground, but not by accident- Wattson’s fence sputters and disappears. Mirage fires one more shot at Gibraltar, and the man topples to the ground, dropping his gun. To Mirage’s dismay, Gibraltar falls into a blue-black rift and disappears, going with a flash of white light. 

“Wraith set a portal!” he yells to Wattson. “I downed Gibraltar but he’s gone!”

“I am busy!” she yells back. Wattson dodges out of the way in a spectacular roll as Wraith takes a well-calculated swipe at her with a deadly looking knife. The two women fight each other expertly, a whirl of fists and bullets and knives. The east fence must be out, Mirage realizes. Gunfire echoes around him, and he turns back to the portal just in time to see Bloodhound emerge from it, eyes glowing red as they leap towards him.

Once again, time slows to a horrifying pace and Elliott’s heart beats immeasurably fast. He doesn’t know how many seconds have passed, but all he can see is Bloodhound. He imagines them charging at him, their blazing hair undone and their eyes glowing gold. For a wild moment, the feeling of wanting to surrender returns. But he shakes himself and releases every decoy he has, and then cloaks himself and runs up the stairs. 

Another wave of red-orange light vibrates through the building. Dammit, he thinks. Bloodhound immediately follows him up the stairs, breathing heavily, growling intermittently. Mirage reloads his Wingman and darts up to the roof, hoping and praying that Bloodhound did not have time to revive Gibraltar before coming through the portal.

He leaps over the train tracks and takes cover behind a pillar. He tosses out another decoy, hoping to buy himself a few seconds, but Bloodhound is smart; they do not shoot at the hologram. Mirage switches to his Mastiff and turns sharply, aiming at his opponent. The hefty shotgun jerks massively as he shoots, missing Bloodhound’s quick form, but only just. Bloodhound aims their RE-45 at him, holding it steady. A brief buzzing noise fills the air as the bullets exit their gun and hit Mirage squarely in the chest and neck. His shields sputter, but just barely hold, and he fires another shot from the Mastiff at Bloodhound. It hits them in the shoulder, taking a sizable chunk out of their shields. Without hesitation, Mirage throws himself off the roof and tumbles to the ground, his ankles screaming in protest. He dives into the east doors, and realizes he was right- Wraith must have broken the fence that was there. He glances over to the corner where Wraith and Wattson had been, and notices that they have somehow downed each other. He tries to slide over to his teammate, but Bloodhound is right behind him, and a spattering of bullets crosses the floor without hitting him. Warning shots? he thinks wildly. Why the hell-

Mirage scrambles to his feet and runs down the stairs. He reloads the Mastiff and turns, hearing their footsteps behind him. They level their gun and shoot, catching his shoulder and cheek. Mirage’s helmet blinks out of existence, and so does his shield. He ducks and fires the Mastiff, hitting Bloodhound right in the neck. Their helmet and shields sputter and die, just as they’re reloading the RE. Blood seeps down their neck from under their respirator, and a wild part of Elliott wants to stop the fight right then and there in order to clean their wounds himself.

But this moment of weakness costs him dearly, because Bloodhound seizes their opportunity and fires their last remaining clip of ammo at him.

“Þú barðist vel. Ég er stolt af þér,” they say to him after he falls to the ground. The victory music begins to blare over the loudspeakers, and the last thing Mirage feels before it all goes dark is Bloodhound picking up his Mastiff and placing it on his chest under his arm, their fingers lingering on his hand for the briefest of moments.

------------------------

A/N: Thanks for your patience on this, guys! I didn't feel super motivated to keep going with this for a while, but I eventually started coming up with a better framework and I'm super excited to show you all what's to come.I kind of have this idea that all the contestants have this safety armor on under their actual shields and uniforms so that when they take enough damage to “die”, their bodies are transmatted to the dropship or something. I don’t know how it works in-universe, so that’s what we’re going with. No one actually dies, they just “die” while the safety armor saves them and transmats them. Can’t have the Legends perma-dying, now, can we?

[vitamx]

the iron door: chapter 2

[ Also read on AO3! ] [ Chapter 1 ]

---

 the day went by swiftly as usual- mumbo tinkered with a few bits and pieces of sahara's tech and only slightly wondered if every machine he touched would start looking at him and screaming.

 in all honesty, he didn't know why he was getting so worked up over a- over a broken machine that just so happened to activate on accident.

it happened all the time with countless other redstone projects of his.

there was absolutely nothing strange about it.

 (of course, that's just what he told himself.)

soon the night befell him, and he wondered if it was really worth the trouble of going back over to the room with the iron door; to go back to that NPC, to go back to the chilling room it was kept in.

 though he really had no choice, in reality.

grian was counting on him to keep it in check while he was gone, to make sure it didn't break down more than it already had.

he couldn't just avoid the task he had promised to do.

 what would grian think if he came back to find he hadn't checked up on the thing all because it jump-scared him a bit?

 well- he'd laugh, first of all. then would come the disappointment.

and frankly, mumbo wasn't sure he could handle that.

 after half an hour of making up excuses to delay the trip over to the shipwreck, mumbo set off, the sound of rockets filling the starry sky.

 ---

 grian's giant, awe-inspiring base came into view in less than a minute, still standing out like a blue sticker on a red wall despite the darkness of the night.

 sucking in his breath, mumbo curved downwards, dunking into the icy, salty ocean water in a matter of seconds.

wincing from the cold, mumbo pushed through the water (thankfully coming into contact with the conduit's effects soon after), and squeezed through the gap that separated the water from the shipwreck.

 the garden afront it was still lovely and charming, and the faint smell of wood soon greeted him.

 he wasted no time in entering the ship itself, making a bee-line towards the iron trapdoor and ladder passage.

the trek down to bedrock was as tiring as it was last time, the temperature dropping more and more as he reached the end. a chill ran down his spine as he finally stepped away and into the room.

  the iron door greeted him silently.

  in the same spot as before, the communicator (which was likely grian's) lay untouched upon the cold stone ground.

leaning down, mumbo picked it up gently, wincing at how it felt like dry ice on his skin, with how cold it was on the surface. as the screen flickered on, he squinted his eyes at the bright light that accompanied it, quickly turning the brightness of the screen down.

on the screen was a new recording: "MCHECK_02.mp3".

 rubbing his eyes, mumbo walked through the iron door, communicator in hand. the door clicked behind him softly, and all of a sudden he felt very small.

it's not like the room was unfamiliar- there wasn't much to be unfamiliar about at this point- but rather what was in the room still disturbed him.

 a redstone torch was placed in the corner of the wall- right where he had left it last time. the NPC lay crumpled beneath it.

 raising the communicator up, mumbo opened the audio file and played it, glancing back at the NPC frequently as it loaded.

  "erm... so, uh, day 2, huh? thanks for coming back, i suppose! um... i- i really hope you're not too spooked about the whole NPC lookalike of me. but, it's harmless! ...mostly. um- the NPC, it can get a little violent at times, b-but only if you aggravate it! that's, uh, kind of why it got itself so messed up like that. i... really should have mentioned that in the last recording. oh well, too late to go back and redo it. but, hey! if you're listening to this, that means you did well last time! so, uh... yeah, good job, good job... ..."

  a pit of dread grew in mumbo's gut as he listened to more and more of the recording. pausing it abruptly, he exhaled slowly, trying not to linger too much on a few parts of it.

 "a few parts of it" meaning specifically the part where he mentions the NPC can get "violent".

what entails getting violent? does it mean more screaming and jittering? or does it mean the NPC could somehow get up and start punching him in the ribcage???

 mumbo really didn't want to find out.

 after a few moments of his thoughts swarming his own head, mumbo resumed the recording.

  "that being said! this time i think it'd be best to do a sort of... audio check? i don't think that's the right word for it- like, playing a sound and writing down how it reacts... if you're up to that, then you'd better get a pen and paper out- i'll play about three different sounds. write down if it reacts or if it doesn't. reacting can be like- its voice-box activating, or its eyes flickering..."

  pulling a face, mumbo reluctantly looked into his inventory, finding only a birch sign on him. he sighed, pulled it out, and figured it would have to do.

he'd make sure to bring a book and quill next time for sure.

 (though he wasn't really sure he wanted there to be a next time, if he was honest.)

  "okay... playing sound #1 in one... two... three..."

  instantly, a sharp ringing noise filled the dusty room, making mumbo flinch.

it sounded like a dog whistle almost, though more screech-like.

 the NPC did not move an inch- nothing had changed.

 he scribbled down a "no" next to the first bullet point he had drawn.

  "playing sound #2 in one... two... three..."

  this time, the sound was pure white noise- white noise that filled mumbo's ears and nearly gave him a headache.

looking up from the sign, mumbo froze.

  the NPC was looking directly at him, leaning forward ever so slightly.

  its eyes glowed with a red ring styled pupil, flickering in and out.

 a little shaken, and rightfully so, mumbo swiftly wrote down a "YES" in all capitals, his handwriting more messy than it usually was.

he glanced up at the NPC between every letter he wrote down.

  "playing sound #3 in one-"

  the audio cut into a quiet static, buzzing and humming in infrequent ratios.

slowly looking up, mumbo's blood ran cold.

  "he is a liar, you know..."

  the damned machine was talking- whispering to him.

 its voice was mangled and scratched, raspy and barely coherent.

it was deep and guttural, but quiet and placid all the same.

  absolute fear grabbed ahold of mumbo. he had to get out- had to get out fast.

  but the machine kept whispering to him.

  "he tells you i have broken myself."

  the NPC lets out a soft, almost silent laugh.

  "he lies to you."

  mumbo tried to move his legs, tried to run like hell.

 why weren't they moving?

 he didn't want to listen to any more of what this broken-down, glitched machine was telling him, so why couldn't he move?

the NPC looks him up and down, its head barely moving, and the damn thing smiles at him.

  "i am not mechanical. i am alive. i am waiting... breathing... listening..."

  "...can you hear me? mumbo?"

  mumbo resists the urge to hurl, and he finally gets himself to move.

he sprints out of the room, the iron door slamming behind him, and his hands are clasped over his mouth, his jaw clenched.

 the quiet room suddenly fills with a loud BANG- mumbo trips, stumbling backward as he swerves around to face the iron door.

the NPC is banging and punching the iron door, and in between the sharp clangs and banging that filled the dimly lit room, mumbo hears the same whirred, desperate, and rasped breathing and heaving he had heard the moment he pressed his ear against that iron door.

  he runs without a second thought, a lump in his throat and his hands shaking, and he flies upward.

his arms are scraped slightly by the ladders, but he could hardly care.

 even after he shut the trapdoor and collapsed inside the shipwreck, he could still hear the iron door banging from beneath the world.

 ---

[zeravmeta]

“…Communications have been lost. I’m sorry, Master, but we are stranded in this strange new territory.”

Gudako was used to having the odds against her, but this time felt more desperate. Almost wrong, somehow. It would be one thing to simply just not be able contact Chaldea; it’s definitely happened before and the nagging voice in the back of her head tells her it will in the future as well.

It would be a second, more annoying thing if their current location was unknown: the Rayshift System was at whim to whatever Panhuman History or the Lostbelts decided to do out of nowhere and Da Vinci had even warned her that the Alien Gods reach was unknown and to prepare for the worst because they could very well drop them in the middle of nowhere.

The third and most troublesome thing about this was that the previous two conditions had been met but within what was possibly another universe entirely.

Gudako was beginning to regret getting out of bed this morning.

“Master….I’m sorry…If I wasn’t here then maybe…” Abigail whispered sadly as she held her torso, hiding her face.

“Oh come on, tears are unfair! You know I’m weak to your widdle cutie-pie face!” Gudako said as she leaned down to pinch her cheeks, trying to lighten the mood. Sure, maybe telling the eldritch horror within the 12 year old whose emotions could influence a reality bending god that they could be her appetizer in a ratty sushi restaurant wasn’t the best of ideas, but who cares. Her life was already one chaotic mess so another spill in an ocean of madness wouldn’t matter.

What does matter however is figuring out where the hell they are.

“Alright everyone, form up! We need to weigh our options and try to find out where we are.” Gudako rounded up her servants.

Babbage, Edmond, Abigail, Danzou, Mecha Eli-Chan, and Hijikata. Not exactly the most balanced composition in her opinion but there were worse options.

“Master, I’ve run a quick perimeter check of the area: wherever we are is completely made of metal. There’s no wildlife, running water, anything. I couldn’t even sense any wind currents here which makes me wonder how you can even breathe with no atmosphere.” Danzou reported.

“I believe we have the young Mash Kyrielight to thank for that. My readings do indicate an existing oxygen level, albeit low. Such things wouldn’t affect Servants, so we haven’t noticed it ourselves, but it is very possible that Mash’s class skill as a Shielder apply even for conditions such as these.” Babbage added.

“It’s strange,” Edmond began, “But I cannot ‘escape’ from this place. We haven’t been confined to a cage, it’s almost like…we are off-world somehow.”

“Off-world? Like, not on Earth anymore?” Gudako couldn’t help but feel shocked at this revelation. They’d gone to so many places in the past but an alien world was something entirely new. She felt Abigail’s fists tighten on her skirt and placed a reassuring hand on them, squeezing them gently.

“It is strange, but I also agree with the ratty convict.” Mecha Eli expanded, ignoring Edmond’s sputtering. “Servants are connected to the Throne, which is situated on Earth. Concepts like Humanity’s collective unconscious, the Root, they’re all unique to Earth itself, and we as Servants are affected by and can sense that. It feels…out of place. Like the Earth is nearby and yet, not really?”

A loud grunt drew their attention to Hijikata, who was looking up into the sky.

“That answer your questions?”

Seeing Earth in the sky as if it was a moon certainly did not answer their questions. And made them panic, naturally.

“This is…troubling. Though there are records that indicate our moon may be or have been some type of computer, there’s nothing on a planetoid of this composition orbiting Earth.”

“Babbage, do you have any way to re-establish contact? Even if she’s fine now there’s no telling how the distance from Mash may affect our Master. She could be running on borrowed time.”

“Master could die?”

“No! No one is dying today, Abbey. None of this is your fault, alright?”

“Do not worry. After all, among our group, you aren’t the only one who can break the laws of physics at a whim. It’s just as likely that that chronic smoker is responsible for this.”

“Just what is your problem with me today?”

“Can we please-”

“WOULD ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!? WE HAVE MORE IMPORTANT ISSUES!” Hijikata boomed, drawing their attention.

“Wh-What’s happening!?” Gudako snapped at attention.

“For the love of- Listen!” He placed a hand over her mouth and glared at the others to do the same.

…Very distantly, they heard the sound of shouting, metal scraping and weapons being fired.

“Wherever we are, we aren’t alone.” Hijikata stood ready to attack. “Master, your orders?”

The familiar fear of the unknown made itself known to her once again as it had many times before, and like always she pushed it down.

“Danzou, scout ahead and find a suitable meeting spot. Babbage, assist her. The rest of us will follow behind and meet you there. Whatever you find, do not engage.” 

“Acknowledged.” 

Gudako saw her disappear in a blur, with Babbage flying behind her. Sighing, she began her trek with her Servants following.

-

The scene before them was…new, to say the least. Even with all her adventures pitting her against all manner of enemies, she never expected to be taking fire from giant alien robots. They had met up as planned, but when they arrived, Danzou and Babbage were under heavy fire from a large gray robot with an arm cannon. They were situated near a cliff side.

“From what I gather, we are indeed off world, though they refuse to say where we are and simply reference Earth. Apparently, these beings seem to want to drain the Earth of it’s various natural resources in order to assimilate it into their own planet.” Danzou explained as she kept sending pressurized air blasts from her arm into the opposition. “There seems to be some type of schism with these robots, however. While this group is indeed trying to kill us, they made mention of others who protect humans.” 

“Apologies, Master. It appears they had some type of censor that tracked us here as far back as when we initially arrived. For now, let us eliminate them!” Babbage exclaimed before jumping back into the fray. 

Gudako took in the sight before her. To her side was Danzou offering ranged support and Abigail using her powers to make sure none of the robots got too close. Babbage was currently in a fierce duel with the gray arm cannon robot who towered over him and kept exclaiming something about absolute victory. It tried to pin Babbage down and shoot him but a bash from Babbage’s club held him back. It then summoned a glowing purple flail to try and smash Babbage before an intervening rocket punch from MechaEli knocked it aside, leaving them 2 on 1. 

On the other side of the battlefield, Hijikata and Edmond were a whirlwind of fire, lightning, and laughter, knocking over the robots as they tried to mob them. Gudako kept hearing their screams and confusion as to how these humans were so powerful and couldn’t help but empathize with them: Servants were unfairly strong sometimes. 

“This is pointless…Let us retreat!” A nasally robotic voice broke out of the group before jumping into the air and flying off, taking potshots at their group. Shortly, a few others followed.

The gray robots scratchy voice broke out as it knocked over Babbage and Mecha Eli. “You cowards! You dare abandon your leader!?” It turned to the group and regarded them with a scowl. 

“Enjoy your victory while you can, humans. Soon I will figure out the secret behind your strength, and then I will conquer the universe!”

Hijikata and Edmond ran over and tried to rush the robot, but it punched the ground and made a large chasm separating them. Despite their speed, they wouldn’t make it in time to get to her.

“A little going away present! I’m sure our enemies will LOVE to see this!” The robot exclaimed one final time and began shooting at the cliff side near them while flying off. 

“Master, get back!” Abigail exclaimed as she summoned more tentacles to catch and divert the metal chunks as they fell. Danzou had suffered a shot and was missing an arm, meaning she could only barely support herself, leaving Gudako to support her.

“Master, please leave me behind-”

“Are we seriously gonna go through this song and dance? Let’s just hurry!” Gudako shouted over the racket of the avalanche as she carried Danzou. 

A large crash suddenly sounded out, and she looked up to see a large gray gun transform back into the gray robot before flying off. Its shot hit true and sent a large metal chunk their way, casting an ominous shadow over them. 

They would have been crushed, but they were picked up by…a yellow mini car? Gudako and Danzou were standing one moment and riding this car the next. 

“Are you two alright!? Your metal friend out there took some major damage, though it’s not anything Ratchet can’t fix!” The….car seemed to reassure them?

“Umm…y-yeah, we’re fine.” Gudako tentatively responded. Ratchet?

“That’s good to hear! Teletraan picked up a cosmic rift and suddenly detected humans with strange energy signatures! You guys got some serious guts to take on Megatron and his group of Decepticons on your own, not to mention how ya sent him packing!”

Teletraan? Megatron? Decepticons? This got more confusing as it went on.

“Could…you explain what exactly is going on here? Me and my friends have no idea where we are or what’s happening.” She decided being frank may be best here.

“Don’t sweat it! I’ll take you to my leader! He’ll explain everything!” The car chimed in, speeding up and approaching a tall red and blue robot before morphing out of its car form and having her look up at it. Him.

He was a friendly looking robot with yellow accents and blue eyes. Gudako noted that the emblem on their chests were different than the robots they had been fighting.

“Master! Are you alright!?” Edmond had called out from behind, Hijikata, Abigail and Mecha-Eli following. Babbage was behind them as well, but heavily damaged with burn marks and a crushed arm, being supported by a taller robot with an ambulance design. Her servants rushed and formed a protective perimeter around her, glaring at the robot.

The tall red and blue robot looked at them closely…almost sadly. He then bent down gently to try and get them to eye level, despite still towering over them.

“Please, calm yourselves. My name is Optimus Prime. Are you all right? Bumblebee tells me you have no idea where you are or what’s happening. Though I assume you’re from another reality of sorts?” He spoke gently.

Gudako didn’t know why, but something about his voice felt…soothing. Like she was talking to a natural born leader.

“…Yeah. We’re from an organization called Chaldea, tasked with protecting Humanity and we travel through time and space to prevent people from messing up our history. Our Rayshift…messed up and we landed here. Where are we?”

Optimus looked contemplative for a second before nodding to himself. “You are on the planet Cybertron, which is in orbit of the planet Earth after Megatron teleported it here.”

Welp. That confirmed her worst fears. They were in another dimension with a second metal planet orbiting Earth full of transforming robots who either wanted to kill them or be as helpful as they possibly could. Though she would be lying if a small part of her mecha nerd heart wasn’t excited to be on a planet of fighting robots straight out of her dreams.

Her worry must have been present on her face because she felt a large metal hand try to ease itself on her shoulder and gently pat it. She didn’t have the heart to tell him it was painful.

“To see such a young hero fills my heart with both sadness and hope. However, for your help against the Decepticons today, let’s go back to our base. I’m sure we can figure out how to get you home. Autobots! Transform and roll out!” Optimus exclaimed before transforming into a large truck and carrying her and her friends in various vehicles.

She was right. She should not have gotten out of bed today.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

For Valentine’s Day.

Sora and Kairi’s dates from the end of Re:Mind.

Change of Focus Sora had wanted to see fireworks with Kairi, ever since he'd seen them going on during a Struggle Tournament in Twilight Town. Those hadn't been particularly spectacular, however, as they’d just been pale white fireworks upon a light backdrop. But since they had been the first ones Sora had ever seen-right before he'd found Riku and Kairi at the World That Never Was—they held a special place in his heart. And so, the Keyblade wielder was thrilled that he was experiencing this with Kairi now (and Chirithy). Sora wanted to give Kairi everything he possibly could—as he’d realized after Kairi had said how excited she was about sailing, on that night long ago—before his time in this world was up... though he refused to think about that part of it, just yet. "This is so lovely, Sora!" Kairi chirped, as a dark purple firework lit up overhead, to make Kairi even more beautiful in Sora’s eyes. "Where did you even learn about fireworks… and get the idea to set them off here?" It was Sora who had set up the fireworks being used, when Kairi, Chirithy, and himself had first come to Disney Castle—when Sora and Kairi had decided that they wanted to go on a nice date, already, but also wanted to secretly check on their friends as they did so—Sora had found said explosives in Disney Castle, and had gotten them out in the hopes that his friends would set them off... And now they were. And as that fact made this the perfect experience for Kairi and himself in every way imaginable, Sora couldn't have felt more love in his heart now for both his girl and his friends. "I first saw them in Twilight Town, Kairi," Sora explained, as he took the love of his life’s hand in his own and selfishly found himself wishing that Chirithy wasn't with them, after all (if for just a moment), so he could maybe finally kiss her. But Sora let it go, as he lost himself in conversation as he always did. "And they were so cool, I became instantly addicted. Y’know? So I just had to show them to you! And I kinda figured King Mickey deserved ta see ‘em with Queen Minnie, too." And Sora scratched his cheek awkwardly, when he realized that he’d pretty much just compared Kairi and himself to the king and queen—and had admitted without really saying a thing about the matter, that they were dating—but when Kairi giggled, and leaned into Sora so that her head was on his shoulder and her arm around his waist—Sora decided all was right in the world. She then showed him a glowing stick she’d gotten from Merlin when he’d visited her in the Enchanted Forest. So, both him and Kairi were showing each other glowing lights… it made Sora happy to know this; and he rested his head atop her own in response. … Sora and Kairi weren't exactly acting like the… best surrogate parents to Chirithy, when they visited The Land of Departure again for the first time. Instead, the two had way too much fun playing on Terra, Ventus, and Aqua's training grounds. Sora splashed Kairi with water, the way that he had Rapunzel here… Kairi gracefully jumped through some loops while summoning water magic there (she was clearly taking a page out of Aqua’s book)… and then the two of them were rolling down a hill. And though Sora accidentally landed on top of Kairi—and they did gaze into each other’s eyes longingly for a second when it happened—they didn’t lock lips with each other, or anything, like that (that would have scarred Chirithy for life), but they did end up throwing grass at each other... and if Sora dreamed that maybe he could get some of it off of Kairi by using his mouth—what?! Grass was edible!—he kept it to himself. And it was when Kairi was pulling a shard of blue grass off of Sora's chin, with her lips parted, that he noticed it: Terra, Ventus, and Aqua were solemnly carrying their wayfinders with them towards a makeshift grave made for Master Eraqus. It was then that Sora and Kairi got up, stopped goofing off, and tried to usher Chirithy towards Ven. Sora in particular was doing this with words, as his little friend continued on trying to fight the natural order of friendship. "Come on, Chirithy. Friends help friends through moments of grief! You being there for Ven is exactly what he needs right now and will help him accept you again!" "Yes!" Kairi jumped on the bandwagon, as she nodded her head enthusiastically. "If you're kind to Ven, I'm sure he'll remember you! When Sora believed in me when I faced Xehanort, it reminded me of when he said I should pursue drawing when we were young: since I was better at art than him, in his eyes." For some reason, a slight blush had risen up to stain Kairi's cheeks as she’d said this; that somehow also made her freckles more visible to Sora than they usually were, and he couldn’t get over just how cute she was. And Sora could really appreciate it now, because Chirithy had listened to them and was back where he belonged. And. so Sora took one of Kairi's hands in his own. … "I'm more than okay with being in Twilight Town again, Sora. I want to check in on dear Hayner, Pence, and Olette—but if we're going to get ice cream while we're her... Do you mind if we try other flavors, too?" And after the amazing chocolate that he'd had in San Fransokyo with Big Hero Six, Sora could only say “yes”. He got where Kairi was coming from, after all. The part of him that was still Roxas was fighting this idea in his head tooth and nail... but after having had so much sea salt ice cream from Scrooge McDuck near a year ago, Sora was getting a bit sick of the blue treat himself. "Yes, Kairi. Anything you want!" Sora assured his girl, as he took her hand in his and she leaned against him. And they did do anything they wanted to do. Like, in traversing around Twilight Town, Sora and Kairi found something called "Dip 'n Dots", that was apparently the “ice cream of the future”—something Sora was hyped for, even despite the fact he didn’t have a future—and it was great! Though there was some confusion when Hayner, Pence, and Olette came to join them—and some ice cream fell out of Kairi's cup, and Olette thought they were beads from her bracelet and tried to grab them up—but other than that, it was one of Sora’s top five instances, for sure. And after Sora and Kairi bought Olette some gloves, to try and make her cold hands feel better, the couple finally got some sea salt ice cream (having had enough of vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, and orange sherbet at this point), and headed up Twilight Town clock tower as far as they could. Sora wanted to “fly” with Kairi again, after all. And it was when the two of them were nibbling on their second bar of it—…so maybe they'd realized they liked sea salt ice cream more than they were earlier thinking. Stomach aches, be damned—that they noticed Roxas, Lea, Xion, Isa, Hayner, Pence, and Olette all sitting beneath them! "Do you think we should say anything?" Sora asked, cocking his head to the side: because as nice as Roxas, Axel, Xion, Isa, and the Twilight Town trio’s hangout was seeming right now, what if Hayner, Pence, and Olette remembered that Axel had kidnapped Kairi and needed them to step in to tell them everything was alright?! But Kairi was quick to convince Sora otherwise, as she placed a gentle hand on his own. "This is between all of them, Sora. Bridges need to be mended for them, the way they were for us with Riku. And in that way, it’ll be a more real and cherished memory for them that way, when all is said and done." …And Sora couldn’t help wondering if he’d have to find a way to mend bridges with Kairi, if he found a way to become corporeal again in the future and return to her… Probably. And there’d probably be quite a few fights before he could prove himself to her again. But Sora had always enjoyed Kairi’s fire, despite everything, and if he had to go through even that to stand by her side again, he gladly would. And for the first time ever, Sora’s lips found Kairi, as he pressed them to her rose red hair. ... "…Sora, why did you let me get so hung up on seeing the worlds with you?! We’ve both been remiss on helping Naminé!" Kairi exclaimed, pulling at her hair in an agitated manner, said suddenly to Sora, exited the station together. "…But why am I placing blame on you, Sora, when it’s really my fault? I just... got caught up with everything--and what you said to Chirithy about seeing new places with those you care about--and how there’s clearly something wrong with you and you won’t tell me why… but can we go to her Replica body now?” Sora certainly didn't have to be asked twice. He opened a Corridor of Light—something he’d recently learned from being connected to Terra—and pushed Kairi through it: his hand on her back lingering for just a moment, as he tried to use a cure to heal any scar she might have still have there, from… from- And Kairi must have noticed what Sora had done there, because she rocketed back towards him and kissed him on the cheek. And if her purity, and the feelings she made him feel, melted Sora into a pile goo and made him realize he could never tell her what was happening to him... well, that was his business and his alone, wasn’t it? … Sora and Kairi positively ran to Radiant Garden castle—wanting Naminé by their side again instantly—but it ended up being the waiting game, anyway, as Ansem, Ienzo, and Even had to set up the Replica body first. As so as Sora and Kairi waited, they alternated between running a hand through Naminé's hair here, or massaging her face with a thumb there, and playing paper games together as they waited. But eventually, the scientists came and joined the pair—telling Kairi they were ready for Naminé's heart—just when Sora began panicking. Thankfully, the Organization members decided to leave Sora when he began to second-guess himself, so they’d be able to say they hadn’t witnessed him lacking tact at all. "Kairi..." Sora began, hanging his head—as memories of when Xehanort had separated them all heart from body came to mind --"I don't know about this. I don’t want to risk hurting your heart!" But Kairi, as she so often did, knew exactly what Sora needed—and put her hand over his heart, as she looked at him with pure unadulterated love and trust. "But Sora, it has to be you since you care as much about Naminé as I do." And when Kairi put it like that, there was no way to deny what needed to be done. Was there? More and more memories of Naminé from Castle Oblivion were coming back to Sora now, and he’d do anything to put a smile on that face again. And as for Kairi… well, there were no words to describe just how good she was and what she meant to him. He would die before he ever harmed her. And so Sora would do this, and make sure nothing happened to Kairi or Naminé, because he loved them both, wouldn’t he? …Besides, the way Kairi wanted him to do something as intimate as freeing her heart, and perhaps cradling it in his hands,, spoke of other intimate bonds she'd maybe want them to have in the future... someday. And since Sora was her first love, he didn’t want to break this kind of trust in her or him so easily. So, Sora ushered the scientists even further away from them—because he and Kairi had done everything else alone in the worlds they’d visited, thus far; And Sora at least wanted to pretend that it had been the same way here—and felt for two hearts that were nearly one, and smiled when he was rewarded with then was light. …And that while they were leaving, that light appeared to find something worthwhile with the dawn. ... It had been no question to Sora that he would take Kairi home when everything was said and done. He had promised her she could always come back to this place, hadn't he? And he was determined to keep his oaths to Kairi now. And Sora also recalled how he'd told his friends both he and Kairi would come back here safe, before they knew it. And he would keep that promise, too. The lovers sat on the paopu tree together—where their destinies had first become one—and while Sora could sense his friends behind them and internally marveled at their joy, his real focus was on Kairi's beauty. And Sora held Kairi’s hand in his, tighter than he ever had, as he felt himself begin to fade away. And as he did, he had to try and reassure her some, via with the truest words he'd ever uttered, and close his eyes against the tear Kairi cried, that he had never wanted to see, Before Sora was fully gone, he heard a lovely "You're not getting off that easily" from Kairi. And next thing he knew, he was catching Kairi’s tear in the hand that had held hers last… and he was alive and whole again.

[devil-kindred]

death stranding adventures- final

I finished Death Stranding!

A recap on the events through the end of the game + my thoughts as they occurred below the cut! Beware spoilers if you haven’t played the game!

- left port knot with the order for fragile and found myself looking at a sea of the blob BTs- not exactly a joyous moment. I finally figured out why they look familiar though! They resemble the Portuguese man o’war! Which makes sense in keeping with the beached/aquatic creature theme given: the fish that show up after you defeat the catchers, the catchers themselves, THE WHALE, the little floating crabs, etc. The lions don’t fit the theme obviously, but I chalk that up to them being more of a Higgs thing? Since he’s the reason you encounter one in the first place.

- I got Sam through the floating BT minefield without too much trouble by hugging the moutainside and using the rifle to take out the ones that were closest to make a path. After that, there was a brief reprieve and then I had to fight a catcher BT. Did that then the normal BTs appeared once I progressed a little further. Made it past that, then rushed through mule territory and then, more BTs. This time 4-5 lion BTs (i don’t remember which but I know it was more than 3 because I thought I was done and then about got Sam stomped on by the one that I missed). Finally finished that and got a TON of chiral crystals for my trouble which was admittedly kinda nice, though my thoughts were mostly “please just let me finish this delivery T_T” by that point.

- Continued the trek to the Capitol Knot City and noticed the sky had changed from a color I refer to as “tornado green” to this very ominous red shade. Not a good sign, followed by rumbling noises that made a even worse sign. Nearly to the city gate (as in maybe the length of one of the bridges you can build level close) and then. A whale. Falls. Out of the sky. ._. Guessed it was time for round whatever number I was on at this point and once again, Sam with the standard reaction to weird BTs goes “what the fuck”. My thoughts exactly at this point.

- Climbed onto whatever thing that emerged from the tar was closest and then clambered onto a building that appeared. Was helped once again (as I was with the previous fights) by a ghostly Sam that lobbed all sorts of neat useful things my way, most importantly two grenade launchers and a multi rocket launcher. Thank you ghostly Sam! I would’ve been doomed without your help. Defeated the whale, collected more chiral crystals, then FINALLY made it to capitol knot.

- Delivered the items to Fragile who looked... really not well. I was concerned there was going to be another loss, but Sam waved a cryptobiote in front of her face and she woke up. Prior to Sam walking up to he, Mama/Lockne ran over and tried to hug him which Sam was (understandably) having absolutely none of but at least he was kinda gentle when he stopped her.

- They explained the whole thing that happened and how Fragile was essentially bounced back from Amelie’s beach and that she wanted Sam to go to her. So they have a long convo about how Sam needs to go and has to find a way to stop her, but also understand that he might not be able to come back. Pretty sobering, but ok. He and Fragile do the forehead touch (which I know helps but it’s so cute, I can’t) and she tells him to picture Amelie’s beach and feel the connection to her. Fragile does the same “I know you love her” thing as the first time and Sam gets sent over to the beach. Fragile looked very sad, chiral allergy tears aside. Which, given that she probably considered him a friend by this point, fits since there’s no guarantee he’ll come back let alone be able to stop Amelie.

- Elsewhere, on Amelie’s beach things are... not looking good. There’s dead sea creatures everywhere, the water’s red, and the sun thing looks like it’s going to turn everything on the beach into smoldering ashes any second. Sam finally finds Amelie after running around for a while and she reveals she’s an EE, which he already technically knew thanks to Higgs. Amelie explains a bunch of stuff and tells Sam to make a choice: stay with her and watch the world end (no thanks) or stop her. Sam pulls the gun which does no good and upon following her, gets a prompt to hug her. He does and they both get super emotional (which is in turn making ME get emotional) and then Amelie shoves him away.

- Sam plummets into the ocean and somehow gets bounced back to his own beach. Where he’s blue? For some reason. I don’t think it’s a tint because everything else on the beach looked the same colors it always was in prior sequences. He’s the only thing that’s not. Which, there is a reason for I’m sure. Anyways.

- Cue running along the beach for eternity a good while with Sam stopping every so often to sit down and catch his breath as well as reflect on what Amelie told him. Which was a lot. She explained that she and Bridget are one and the same, a separation of Ka and Ha that managed to coexist. She also says she got bored of waiting for the end and decided to bring about the extinction early and, while I can understand that’s her purpose as an EE, way to say fuck humanity I guess.

- In between more running and resting, it’s revealed that Sam is the BB Cliff (aka Mr. Combat Veteran) was looking for. His son. (Which you find out kinda after fighting him for the third? time.) Sam was apparently an experiement and a potential sacrifice (man this game gets dark fast) for something. Die-Hardman- aka John- told Cliff as much in less words and instructed him to take his son and run. Cliff does and bad things ensue when he gets cornered. John/Die-Hardman was given the order to shoot Cliff and when he refused to Bridget/Amelie made him, quite literally, by grabbing his hand and making him pull the trigger. My thought process during these has bacially centered around “wow Bridget is awful” but add the swearing of your choice to that sentence. Basically, I do not feel charitable towards Ms. Extinction Entity.

- Cliff took BB Sam out of the pod at some point and when Bridget shot him via using John/Die-Hardman as a puppet, she also shot BB Sam. Upon realizing this, she freaks out. Which is understandable given that she just killed a man and a baby. But what did she think was going to happen? That Cliff would throw his teeny baby son across the room when she pulled the trigger? What exactly was her expectation here?

- So BB Sam died and went to the beach. Or was it his own beach? They all start to blur together a little after a while. Amelie finds the BB, which is blue because it’s not breathing (ooh hey maybe that’s why adult Sam is blue? ... but my understanding is when Fragile jumped him to Amelie’s beach, all of him went— not just his soul. So maybe not? Is it symbolic? Am I just looking too hard into this?) and does infant cpr (I think?) and lo and behold, BB Sam is brought back to life! She tells him she knows the way home and puts him in the ocean. & in upsetting the balance of life and death, she made him a repatriate

- Once again back on the beach, Sam decides he’s had enough of being stuck there and remembers the gun and Amelie’s words that “a gun won’t help you here but it still has a role to play” and decides to use it as a way to end the beach cycle. There’s a click and then the title “Death Stranding”. I was very confused at first and just kind of stared at the tv like “that’s it? All that for—“ and then a little button prompt showed up on the bottom with the words “reconnect with the living”. Push the button and oh look, Sam’s still alive (Which is very much a joyous moment for me as a concerned player)! He tries again a few times and realizes it doesn’t work, then hears a very familiar song. Following the sound he finds little BB handprints in the sand and following those leads him to some familiar voices.

- Amelie/Bridget shows up again, this time in white as opposed to her signature red (i know there’s symbolism in that change, maybe rebirth? or just signifying that she’s trying to be on humanity’s side of things this time around?) and tells him that he still has ties to the living and then points at the five figures floating in the sky⏤ presumably meant to represent Deadman, Mama, Lockne, Heartman, and Lou. Or is it Deadman, Mama/Lockne, Heartman, Lou, and Die-Hardman? Following that, various voices belonging to those mentioned above remark that they can see him and just need to bring him back. Sam winds up in the ocean again (i’m finishing up this post almost a week after beating the game so my memory is tad iffy on the exact way things happened) and is greeted with the sight of Deadman holding Lou in her little pod while he’s got his hand around Sam’s ankle.

- They manage to bring him back to the land of the living and what follows is a fair amount of cutscenes. In the absence of Bridget/Amelie/Samantha ‘America’ Strand (the woman who never existed), Die-Hardman takes up the mantle of president (good for him!). He reveals his face to the crowd (and presumably everyone watching from... wherever they may be) and starts talking about the unsung hero none of this would’ve been possible without... which is about the time Sam, who’s been hanging out in the very back of the room (mood), decides to bail (also a mood). He slows a little when Die-Hardman says the hero doesn’t need to be named, they all know who it is and they’re all for grateful for their efforts. He keeps walking and exits into the hall and wow, BRIDGES buildings are a lot bigger than you’d think from looking at the outside which is large in general but inside is... a lot.

- Deadman catches up with him and drops some information about Die-Hardman aka John. Which I think Sam already knew due to the sequence while trapped on the beach but oh well. Sam continues down the hall and tries to pass Die-Hardman who appeared from somewhere? I’m going to guess parts of the facility loop or there was a change in scenery and I just wasn’t paying enough attention. He confesses information about his past, including how he got his name, and kinda has an emotional breakdown which made me very sad for him and increased the number of times i cried while playing this game. Sam gives Die-Hardman/John back his gun and repeats Amelie/Bridget’s words and leaves.

- Sam goes to leave the building and runs into Deadman again who hands over Lou’s pod and... Lou’s dead. Which was very depressing and the knowledge of which hurt. A lot. Deadman tells him to take Lou to the incinerator and takes Sam’s cuffs offline while giving some useful information: his location is undetectable by BRIDGES while his cuffs are offline and they will automatically reconnect to the network when he uses the incinerator. Sam nods, gives Deadman a hug and tells him “thanks for everything”. Which is more than a thank you, it’s a good-bye and kojima has now broken my heart into five billion pieces. Sam departs, gets out the big door, and... oh hey, Fragile!

- They chat briefly, during which she reveals that she’s carrying on her father’s legacy and that Fragile Express now has a private contract with BRIDGES and they’re the first independent company to have it. Good for them! She comments on Lou (I think) and remarks that he at least shouldn’t need an umbrella. Then asks him if he’d work for her. Sam says no and explains how he felt when he first began his journey and reveals he still feels that way (and now i’m even more sad! let’s take the five billion pieces that are my heart and just shove them in blender at this point, why not!). Fragile is upset and I think she tried to stop him again but he left anyways. 

- Thus begins the trek to the incinerator with BB’s Theme playing on the way there (it’s a wonder i could even see the tv at this point as the ending just keeps hammering the sad nail home). Finally made it to the incinerator taking the same path I did on the first visit (thanks Igor for the tools!) and Sam enters the building, takes off his cuffs and sets both those and Lou’s pod down on the incinerator before he remembers Deadman’s words. He snatches Lou’s pod back just in time and the slab descends into the floor, the doors seal shut, and turn his cuffs into ashes. It’s revealed that Sam took Lou out of the pod and not much has changed. He tries infant cpr and hearing his words the entire time literally had me sobbing. Sam says “come on baby’ and he’s crying (i’m crying and now the blended pieces of my heart are being run over by a steam-roller) until he finally gives up... and then... Lou lives! There are a bunch of baby BT’s floating nearby in the incinerator which is a little concerning, but hey Lou’s alive! Sam cradles little Lou to his chest and she’s so tiny⏤ her little skull is barely the size of his palm! Anyways, Sam and Lou walk outside and it starts to rain... but the sun is shining, the rain causes no harm to him or Lou (or Sam’s clothing) and a rainbow appears. The first normal rainbow in the entire game. Which is a good sign, I think? The title screen appears once more and woo! I beat the game!

This was a very unique and fun game, and I can honestly say I enjoyed every minute of it. Between the music, the environment, the characters, and all the lore you can uncover by reading Sam’s mail... it was an amazing experience. I still have some trophies I’m missing and I think I only need 10 more to platinum the game so I’ll be playing chapter 15 for a little while longer. Plus I want to rebuild all the roads + find all the memory chips. I do want to replay the game in it’s entirety sometime just to see what i pick up on ahead of time the second go-around. And, while I may have beat the game, this is going to be another one of my forever fandoms. I don’t have much contributed right now, but I hope to have more things posted soon now that I know the whole story. if anyone ever wants to chat about the game, fic, or anything, feel free to send me a message!

[sonatanotwo]

Today was a sleepy day, yeesh. I’m nearly falling asleep, but ohgosh somehow on a roll. Edited back through the 3rd chapter and got it to point think I can post it. ^^

...how should I be doing this... um...

Angelus Erarre (A Very Tentative Title)

(Aka as Jen’s fanfic she’s been working on forever)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

Jerking awake, Virgil sat up, once again feeling incredibly disoriented. The unfamiliar room served to bring back everything pretty quickly, however. Rubbing his face, let out a frustrated groan. He hadn't meant to go and fall asleep as he had, but at least he felt a whole heck of a lot better now.

Pushing himself from the bed, he made his way over to the windows, peering out. The sky was a dark blue, light starting to spread across the horizon—dawn was quickly approaching. If Scott was, well, Scott, he'd likely be getting up soon, so if Virgil wanted to try to get out of here, he needed to do it fast.

The large windows opened up to a veranda that appeared to wrap around much of the house from what he could make out. Examining the glass, Virgil quickly ruled the windows as being a good choice of escape—they were definitely made to weather even the harshest storms, as needed on an island in this region. Besides being tough, if shattering them was an option, it would be far too noisy. They did appear to slide open somehow, but given the door had been locked, it would have been a pretty big oversight to not lock them. Now, there was the option of using his laser tool, but doing so without his helmet felt a little risky, not to mention it would take time.  For now, Virgil turned his attention to his other option.

Going back to the door, Virgil ran his fingers over the control panel thoughtfully. This looked more like a lock for privacy than for really keeping someone inside. Digging his fingers around the edge, his confidence grew as he found it was hardly sealed.  Apparently it hadn't even occurred to them that leaving him with his tools wasn't a very smart idea. Plucking one from his belt, he easily managed to pry the cover off the panel and within a few minutes he let out a quiet, triumphant "Ha!" as the door slid open. Well, that had been even easier than he'd thought it would be.

Slipping through the door, closing it from the other side, Virgil glanced up and down the dark hallway. Which way? Unsure, he randomly chose a direction, coming to a stop where the hall turned a corner. Hiding there at the corner, Virgil carefully peeked around it. No one was in sight, but he could see light streaming from frosted windows beside one of the doors, much like the room he'd been in, suggesting it was another bedroom. He had no idea who's bedroom, but wanting to avoid any risks, Virgil decided to check the other end of the hallway first.

Retreating back the way he'd came, he tried a couple of the other doors. One was locked. Another just seemed to be another guest room. Then finally he found something promising—the door led to a narrow corridor. Luckily, windows ran along one side keeping it from being pitch black, thanks to the slowly brightening sky. Making his way quickly along it, and through another door at the end, he carefully slipped out into a large room.

The feeling of familiarity and almost wonder flooded over him as he slowly made his way into the room. The sensation was most akin to the day they'd finally made the big move from the farm back in Kansas to the island. To see all their belongings in a completely new place, but arranged all differently. This was almost like that.

The giant photograph of a space rocket and right beside it, two suspicious lamps on the wall and a row of portraits. A red desk and a piano, albeit white, over in the corner. There was probably more similarities, but his attention was quickly drawn to five portraits. They were photos, unlike the ones that hung in the lounge that he'd painted himself, but there they were, on the wall, in the same way. In the growing light, he could just make them out.

The first certainly was John, but a blond haired John, which was definitely strange to see. The second was Scott who, of course, he'd met in person. And the third... Wow. A brown haired and certainly older, well... him. It was rather unsettling, to say the least. Virgil moved on quickly. Then it was Alan, who definitely older than his Alan. Finally, there was Gordon a little more strawberry blonde than his brother and no where near John's ginger, but still certainly not the colour he was used to seeing on him.

Wow.

Virgil dragged his gaze away from the portraits, realizing he was likely wasting precious time. Something that hadn't been a waste of time though was taking a moment to glance again at the desk to the side. A familiar object had been left there and Virgil was quick to reclaim it—his wrist controller—he'd almost forgotten Scott had taken it from him. Slipping it back onto his wrist, Virgil made his way over to the glass panels. They appeared like they should slide, much like the bedroom one, except hopefully these wouldn't be locked.

Luck was still on his side, as Virgil was able to easily push one open and slip out onto the veranda, quietly sliding it shut behind him. Making his way quickly down the staircase to the pool level, he backed up to press against the villa while he took in the surroundings. The horizon was far brighter now—the sun would soon be making it's appearance. With no idea of the schedule of those residing inside, he needed to get away from the villa as quickly as he could. At least he was fairly certain the runway was below the villa, from what he could remember. The only downside was the cliff. Yeah, that was going to be a pain. He'd need to get down somehow. Though, yeah, he could fly Thunderbird 2 up to him, the sound of her engines alone would probably wake the entire household. Taking off from the runway would be a far better plan.

A sudden feminine gasp behind him made him almost practically jump. Turning quickly, he was faced with someone he didn't know at all. That wasn't the problem though. The problem was she was backing up as if to dive back inside. "W-Whoa, wait a minute!" He dove forward, grabbing her arm to halt her movements.

"No! Please!"

Guilt fell over his face as he took in her frightened expression and Virgil promptly released her arm, holding both his hands up, in a peaceful gesture. "Sorry, I didn't mean to... I don't want to hurt you. I just... Please. Please, listen?"

Slowly her startled face settled and she hesitantly gave a nod. "Alright. I'm listening."

Thank goodness. A chance to at least stall her a moment was something at least. "Look, I don't know what's going on or how this happened, or anything really. I just know I got to figure out how to get home to where I belong. I don't want to cause trouble. I just want to get back to my ship and leave, okay?"

"Your ship... Thunderbird 2?" she questioned him, looking still a little wary.

"Yeah."

Virgil watched her look him up and down before her gaze met his. Then something seemed to change. Her eyes widened for a moment before her expression settled into something Virgil wasn't entirely sure of. Recognition? Whatever it was, she wasn't looking at him as she had before. In fact... there was something about her, but he couldn't put his fingers on it.

"Could you at least give me a head start?" he asked, hoping she might at least do that much for him. Thunderbird 5 would be hard to escape, but he knew it's blind spots. He just needed enough time to get down the cliff and get into the air.

"You do realize the cliff is quite steep?"

"Yeah, I noticed. It'd be quicker to get down with a grapple, but I'm pretty sure I'll manage," he said, not sure where she was going with this.

"Come. I’ll show you another way," she surprisingly offered, gesturing to him to follow. Virgil hesitated, remaining where he stood, unsure if this was a good idea or not. He'd just managed to escape, after all. It seemed rather a bit counterproductive to go back inside the very place he'd just snuck out of.

"Virgil...?"

Hearing his name made his head snap up, a look of surprise now on his face as he looked over at her. "What did you say?"

"You are Virgil, aren't you?" she asked him, tilting her head.

"I... Well... Yeah, but..." Virgil replied, staring at her slightly dumbfounded. Yeah, he thought he'd seen recognition in her eyes, but he hadn't dared to believe it. Who was this girl?

"You’ll be safe as long as you're with me. Come... hurry!" she said, beckoning him again to the door.

Hoping he wouldn't soon regret this, Virgil decided to take the chance and follow her back into the villa. Moving as quietly as he could, he was introduced to the lower level of the villa, which seemed to be mostly hallways and doors. Beckoning him again, she led him through various corridors before finally ending up in a lift.

After standing there silent for a moment, he finally looked over to her. "So... Sorry didn't have much of an introduction. You're...?" he asked, breaking the silence to hopefully quell the weird sensation he had about her.

"You don't know?" the girl asked, sounding a little confused by his question. Then again, she'd seemed to work out who he was, so he supposed maybe she thought he'd know her too...

"No... I'm afraid not," he told her apologetically, trying to figure out how to put this. "At the risk of sounding, uh, kinda crazy... the world or whatever I'm from... I can't say I know you."

"I'm Tin-Tin... Tin-Tin Kyrano," she introduced herself.

"Kyrano?" he echoed, eyes widening as he turned his head to look at her once more. She didn't really resemble Kyrano or Kayo to him, but... No, that wasn't true at all. Her eyes were a very distinct colour; a very familiar colour. The shape of her eyebrows and curve of her jaw...  He really hadn't been paying attention, had he?

"...Tanusha?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh... never mind. It's not important. You just remind me of someone."

Virgil dropped it for now, though he had a feeling his gut was right. (And if it was somehow wrong, Tin-Tin was undoubtedly was related to Kayo.) At this point he really had to concentrate on getting to Thunderbird 2 and then hopefully figuring out how on earth to get back where he belonged. He could think about things like who Tin-Tin was another time.

"So you believe you are from... ah, what is it called... An alternate universe?"

"Honestly? I have no idea what to believe right now," Virgil answered truthfully. "I just want to get back to my brothers." And Grandma, Kayo, Brains, Lady Penelope and Parker... even MAX and EOS. He'd be happy to be back with them all about now. In fact, he really wished he would just wake up and find this was all one hell of a dream. Yeah, that would be nice.

The lift came to a halt and the doors opened, revealing a long tunnel. It didn't take too long to long to arrive at some doors which brought them into, what appeared to be, another residence. Glancing out the large windows, Virgil quickly realized was likely the structure he vaguely recalled seeing overlooking the runway. And there, sitting still on the runway, was Thunderbird 2. So far, so good. He was almost there.

Tin-Tin pointed to another door. "There is another lift there. It will take you down to an exit to the runway," she told him. "I am afraid I must hurry off. If I am gone any longer it will be noticed."

"That's alright. Thank you for taking me this far, Tin-Tin," he told her, glad for the help. This might have not been exactly the fastest way down, but it had been certainly been an easy way. It was very likely her assistance had kept him from getting caught once more.

"I am glad I was able to help, but... Virgil, are you certain you should be leaving? We could help you, surely?" Tin-Tin asked, sounding like she was pretty puzzled by his actions.

"Scott wouldn't even believe I was who I said I was... If I can't convince Scott, how could I even hope convince the others?" he explained, still feeling sort of shocked Scott hadn't been even willing to listen to him. He didn't really want to be leaving the people who were most likely to be able to help him in some way, but he didn't have much choice right now.

"Perhaps he just needs more time...?" she suggested, but Virgil shook his head at the suggestion. "Don't worry about it. I'll figure out what happened myself." Somehow.

"They've probably noticed I've escaped by now, so I really gotta run and you do too, right? Thanks again, Tin-Tin," he told her, then turned, hurrying to the door to the lift.

“Good luck!” he heard her call after him.

Soon he was out on the runway approaching Thunderbird 2. He went to reach for his wrist controller, but let out a curse as he noticed a jet not far from the island that was definitely making an approach for the runway. He dove behind one of the palm trees, hoping he hadn't been spotted. Virgil watched as the jet fired it's VTOLs, landing not far from Thunderbird 2.

It was frustrating to be SO close to his ship and yet so far. He contemplated trying to find a longer term hiding place, but... no, he hadn't gotten this far to turn back now. All he had to do was get on board—they'd be hard pressed to stop him once he got inside.

Slowly, hiding as best he could, he dove between cover making his way closer to his aircraft to the point he was only a handful of yards away. Touching his fingers to his controller, Thunderbird 2's hologram floated above his wrist. Taking the hand controller from his belt, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Alright. He just had to make a dash to jump onto the cockpit elevator and he'd be home free.

He decided to run on the count of three. One... Two... Three!

Virgil dove from his cover, running towards Thunderbird 2. The next thing he knew something, or rather, someone had slammed into him. Dazed, it took a moment for him to realize what was happening as he lay on his back on the rough pavement of the runway.

"Just where do you think you're going!?"

Oh no...

It was Scott.

----

(Just a little end note since I feel like maybe I should explain few things. Um. 1. Yes, it’s a crossover because I’m dumb and love crossovers... though it’s only kinda since it’s the within the same franchise. lol 2. Okay so like... my thinking into why they’re being so kinda... awful. The TOS folk here. ...They’re kinda pretty paranoid in TOS. XDDD Bring couple kids in a ship that doesn’t even have really windows... who probably couldn’t even begin to tell where they are... BUT STILL. BLINDFOLDS. Someone’s in the pod? They’re all there with their guns. Like. Yeah. Some guy shows up saying he’s Virgil... with a “copy” of TB2 like The Imposters... shows up on their secret island... Plus Virgil and their TB2 went missing same time? Yeaaaah. XD They just wouldn’t be too trusting at this point, I figure. SO UH YEAH. That’s my brain thinkings into all this.)

[ladyintheattic]

look......... i swear i’m writing stuff that isn’t chargestep. but like.... they’re so easy to write my dudes. also as it turns out i’m not good at writing kiss scenes so like, there isn’t much of that sadly lol

_______________ ship: chargestep (m!ortega x f!sides) words: 1,559 tags: f!sidestep, pre-heartbreak, post-psycopathor battle, smug asshole behavior tw: none ————————–

“You know it’s fine if you can’t fix it, right?”

“Shut it.”

“Look, it’s old, its mangled, it’s broken Beck. We’ll just get a new one.”

You huff, wiping the sweat mixed with dirt off your brow. Yeah, the circuitry is pretty fucked, but you’ve fixed worse than this, and Ortega’s lack of faith in your abilities is starting to piss you off. Everything’s been pissing you off recently, ever since that damn Psychopathor battle a few weeks ago. Maybe because of his mind canon? The rat-brains had made you pretty itchy.

Or maybe it was the fact that Ortega had kissed you. Kissed you, and hasn’t said a damn word about it since.

To be fair, neither have you, but since when was it your job to bring up stuff like that? And since when did he not? Forgetting about is it probably for the best, nothing can ever really happen between the two of you anyway, and kissing alone was a misstep on both of your parts. You know all this, but none the less you feel a new twinge of annoyance in your gut every time the both of you speak as though nothing had happened.

“You know the Rangers can afford a new car, right?”

“I’m aware,” you narrow your eyes at him over your shoulder. You’re more than a little knowledgeable about their funding, and where exactly all that money comes from. Hopefully, you know far more than Ortega does. Very hopefully. “I’m just not about to be outsmarted by a damn computer.”

“Says lady Walkman. ” he smiles, smug as ever.

“There’s nothing wrong with cassette-tapes.” Truthfully you just aren’t comfortable with a digital music-player on your person, not with what you know about tech. It would take nothing at all for some Prime Directive member to hack and track your phone, or anyone else’s in Los Diablos for that matter. Not that you could explain that to him.

“Ha. Hipster.”

You don’t reply, just glare back down at your new electric foe. The car itself is pretty beat up after the battle, but the only thing keeping it from starting up is the mangled mass of wires poking out of the dashboard, mocking you. Hooked up by a long power chord, it’ll play music and blink blue and orange if you hit it, but heaven forbid it let you turn the key without it making alarm noises at you. Whoever first started hooking up car functions to computers was an asshole.

You sense him open the opposite door and begin to fiddle with the radio, flipping station to station as you untangle more of the wires. You know he’s trying to irritate you, and hoo boy is it working. You grit your teeth, focusing so hard on the wires your vision starts to blur.

Flip. ♪-est Virginiaaaaa! Blue ridge mou-♪ Flip. ♪-since you looked at me, cocked your head to the side and said I-♪ Flip. ♪-awty got low low low-♪ Flip. ♪-squeezed by sexy cupid, guess he wants to play, wants to play, a love ga-♪

You can’t help it, you tear your eyes from the mess too glare at him. He grins back, dark curls draping in front of his brown eyes as he cocks his head at you. Of course. “Charge, if you push that button one more fucking time I swear I-”

Flip. ♪-ing all my breath, making love to you was never second best...♪

“Oohh here’s a good one.” To your continued annoyance and dawning horror, Ortega hops out of the passenger side and begins to half-walk, half-dance around the front of the vehicle, smile still plastered on his face. “Pretty sure this came out in my birth year.”

An unsettled, warm feeling begins to settle in your stomach, different from the tightness of annoyance from before. You’re not sure if which is worse.“Figures,” you manage a cruel smirk as he makes his way to the mangled door to the driver’s side, “This is the ‘Oldies’ channel after all.”

A mildly vexed smile settles on his features as he comes to a stop in front of you. It’s a small victory, getting under his skin, but you know you’ll have to take what you can get at a time like this. He’s impossible to talk to when he’s like this, looking so confident and wicked and much, much younger than you know he is.

“Everything’s an ‘Oldie’ these days Beck... and you,” he reaches out, taking your left hand off the dashboard. “Look like you could use a break.”

You don’t pull your hand away, but you do pull your face into an agitated frown, your face warming despite yourself. “What do you think you’re doing?” As if you don’t know.

“Come on, it’s been a long day, you’re frazzled and I’m bored.” Ortega tugs at your hand, lurching you forward slightly as you set your jaw and press yourself harder into the seat. Resolute. He’s not winning this one. Not without a fight. “Dance with me.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Asshole. “You tell me.” Your voice is more serious than you mean; probably because you’re tired, defeated, and covered in grime, but even more likely because you’re recognizing the look in his eyes. Half lidded and too brave for his own good. The same look before he kissed you.

“Beck?” His brow pinches together in a confused frown as he leans into the doorway, and you have to fight the instinct to lean back. Or, worse, lean forward. “Are you actually mad at me?

You feel your eyes narrow, but say nothing. You’re not even sure you’re breathing. You’ve never been like this, not ever, not with anyone, and the very last person on earth you should be like this with is the marshal of the Los Diablos Rangers. How did this even happen? How could you let him kiss you like that? You can blame him all you like for attempting it, but you weren’t so injured that you couldn’t have put you hand up; stopped him.

And you certainly didn’t have to kiss him back.

“If you can’t dance, you can just say so.”

You blink stupidly up at him. Did you hear that right? You couldn’t have. “I...what?”

“It’s fine if you can’t,” he’s smiling again, smugger than you’ve ever seem him. His hand leaves yours only to land on his hip, posing to look as self-satisfied as possible, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I... I’m not-!” How does he do that? Get you to play his stupid games, let alone switch the rules up on you mid play? You curse his static brained mind as you pull yourself out of the seat to get in his stupid handsome face. “I could dance circles around you if I so chose, Ricardo Ortega. Don’t try and change the damn subject!”

♪...there's nothing you and I won't do...♪

“Prove it.”

♪...I'll stop the world and melt with you...♪

You aren’t thinking anymore. If you were, you wouldn’t be grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the car, a light spin in your movements you haven’t done in years, not since the Farm. Back then it had been training: you’d needed to be able to fit in with the right people, rub elbows with people your handlers wanted you to. Now, your using it for yourself. For this game the two of you are playing.

“Whoa,” he’s surprised, but catches himself before he trips. His free hand curls around your lower-back as his feet catch up with yours with relative ease. The man is a practiced dancer. “Someone’s wound up.”

“Shut up.” You can’t help it, your heart is hammering so hard in your chest you’re a little concerned you might get a bit faint if you don’t watch your breathing. He’s drawn you close, your chest pressing up against his warm body, skinsuits feeling too thin yet too restricting at the same time. Dangerous.

♪...the future's open wide

the future's open wide...♪

His face is too close, his bronze skin marred only by the settled dust of the previous battle. Eyes too dark. Hair too unruly and mussed. Breathing too careful, syncing up with your own. He spins you, your practiced movements coming back to you as though you’ve done nothing but dance your whole life.

♪...there's nothing you and I won't do...♪

“I was serious you know,” his voice, thick and deep, drops several octaves. “You have no idea how long I'd wanted to kiss you.”

♪...I'll stop the world...♪

His mouth is on yours before you can reply. Sudden, brazen, like before. You want to be angry, furious with him for playing with you like this, but for some reason you can’t work up that particular feeling. Another, foreign emotion is overwhelming you, numbing you to everything but the feeling of lips and stubble and fingers trailing up your spine.

Experienced. Careful. Wanting.

♪...and melt with yo-♪

Lightning bolt. Electricity rockets down your body, and you can feel yourself jump, almost into his arms, as you hear the car’s radio fizzle out, the electric motor blaring to life in it’s place. Your eyes and lips finally free from his, you now notice that his right leg is standing on the chord you had hooked up to the vehicle at the beginning of your chore.

What the hell?.. did he just...fix it?

“Well,” his breath is stuttered, yet somehow still smug against your ear. “Guess it wasn’t completely broken after all.”

[zallano]

The HereAfter, Chapter 2

Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, read on AO3!

Entire fic under the cut!

__

It didn’t take very long for the hermits to make it to the ‘Shopping district’. Mumbo stayed mostly silent and kept to himself. He didn’t reply when the three would ask him questions unless it was about his home.

“So do you know where you live?” Xisuma asked. “I live past the hill at my spawn and a few hundred blocks out from there,” Mumbo responded, his words seemed distant as if they weren’t his own. He never got tired before, but in this place, he felt like he was going to collapse.

Occasionally Mumbo would catch the hermits staring at him oddly. He didn’t know why. Was there something on his face? He frowned slightly and fiddled with his thumbs and kept his eyes on the ground. False and Joe eventually had to go, they had their own projects to work on. This left Mumbo and Xisuma standing in a small field of grass together.

Mumbo watched the sun inching closer to the horizon line. He tensed. “Oh no, it’s going to be dark soon- I don’t want to run into any more monsters.” He ran a hand through his hair, nervous.

Xisuma looked up at the sky. He looked over at Mumbo and clapped his hands together. “Right, of course. The night isn’t good, especially when you don’t have anything,” he looked around at all the different shops around them. “We can explore the world someday soon and try to find your spawn. In the meantime, I suggest getting yourself a bed and building a starter house in the morning? I don’t have much on me at the moment, so I can’t give you anything to start off with,”

Mumbo looked up at Xisuma, perplexed. “A bed?” His eyes landed on an odd-looking blue flower. ”Uhm, yes, a bed- to sleep in.” X replied. Mumbo didn’t say anything in response. Xisuma blinked twice, “You do sleep, right?” He asked.

“I always wait out the night,” Mumbo replied shortly. He dreaded night. “Well I mean, you do that here, but I advise you to sleep every once in a while. The Phantoms get pretty bad here. When was the last time you slept?”

After thinking for a few moments, Mumbo finally answered “I don’t think I’ve ever slept,” he frowned ever so slightly. Xisuma looked at him like he was insane. ‘Great,’ he thought, ‘another odd look,’

“Never sleeping at all? How have you not died to the Phantoms?” The other asked. “What even are Phantoms?” Mumbo questioned and Xisuma only shook his head. “Okay, I see you don’t really know anything at all about this decade... I’ll talk with all the other hermits tomorrow morning. Think you can survive the night?”

Mumbo nodded. “That’s all I do at this point.” He shrugged. Xisuma made one last glance up at the sun, watching it sink behind the trees in the distance. “Okay great. Make sure to stay inside the shopping district and around torches. Probably stay inside the shops. Phantoms can’t get you if you’re not in the open.”

With that, Xisuma grabbed a rocket and double checked to see if his elytra had enough durability before getting ready to take off. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mumbo! Unfortunately… I have- something to deal with at the moment..” he waved goodbye and then shot up into the air. Mumbo was left there in a cloud of white sparks, astonished. Some guy just took to the sky right before his eyes so nonchalantly as if it wasn’t a big deal.

His hands were trembling, though that most likely due to his severe sleep deprivation. His head hurt, and his clock around his neck ticked annoyingly as if it was taunting him. Mumbo’s nervous red eyes glanced around him. He was completely alone in an area he has never been to and it was getting darker - was it?

Mumbo failed to realize that the sun had fully set. He was so used to complete and utter darkness that he assumed the current state of the night was just the beginning, but the moon was already creeping its way into the sky.

A torch and a cleverly hidden sea lantern flickered and glowed on the ground beneath his feet. Everything was quiet, a tad bit too quiet.

Although, that was before Mumbo heard a hiss, but not a familiar hiss.

A loud cry, almost like a shriek came from above him. In a panic, Mumbo looked up to see around seven large purple-ish-blue flying creatures. Their numbers soon doubled, now fourteen creatures screamed and yelled at Mumbo from above. These must have been the Phantoms Xisuma was talking about.

Mumbo quickly tightened his jacket around his waist tighter and began to speed walk wherever his feet may take him. A particularly large Phantom swooped down at him and attacked him. He lost many hearts. Mumbo watched in horror and the other Phantoms followed the lead and tried to kill him.

He jumped, trying to avoid the menacing teeth that were attempting to bite off his head. A small wooden wagon, or cart, was a few blocks ahead of him and he dived underneath it to take cover.

Phantoms cried and screeched at him to come out. The ticking and whirs of the clock became louder and more prominent. His own heartbeat thumped in his ears at an irregular speed. The usual quiet ambient sounds could be heard much clearer now.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick...

The clock, the sounds, everything. It was all too much.

The noise and insanity of the lack of sleep we're getting to him.

Mumbo covered his ears.

Silence.

He breathed in. He hadn’t realized how intensively he was breathing. This new place was insane. It was utterly mad. Mumbo focused on his breathing. Maybe the Phantoms would leave him alone once they realized they couldn’t get him. Although something told him that they wouldn’t leave until morning. He sighed, breathing in, and out. Slowly, Mumbo lowered his hands and all the sounds were back to normal, apart from the screaming sky-demons of course.

The clock silenced, it had stopped ticking entirely. It stayed like that for a few seconds until it must have somehow realized Mumbo was paying attention to it and it began ticking away again.

Mumbo inhaled and exhaled slowly once more before breathing regularly. He leaned against one of the cart’s back wheels and closed his eyes. For the first time in twenty-three years, Mumbo fell asleep.

-

“Mumbo? That’s his name? Mumbo!”

Mumbo slowly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and opened them to see Joe from yesterday, and a guy with a cowboy hat. “Uh-“ Mumbo didn’t want to get up, he didn’t even want to wake up at all.

“Why was he sleeping under Grian’s cart?” The man with the hat asked. “I don’t know,” Joe replied. “Mumbo, it’s morning now. Xisuma wants you to meet everyone- oh speaking of, this is Scar,” Joe pointed to the man in the hat. He waved. “Hello fellow Hermit,” he laughed.

Mumbo slowly crawled out from under the cart and stretched. He was taller than the both of them and it seemed to have surprised Scar slightly. “Must've had a really comfortable sleep underneath this here cart.” He grinned. Mumbo blinked, still not fully aware of his surroundings. “Yeah,” he finally spoke.

“We don’t really have a proper meeting place, so we’re going to meet outside iTrade,” Joe gestured Mumbo to follow, which he did.

They arrived at a pale yellow and white building. A bunch of people was standing outside, chatting and joking around. Mumbo recognized False from the day before. “Hm, I thought everyone was going to be here today,” Scar commented. “I’m guessing some really are dedicating a lot of time into their projects,” Joe turned to Mumbo. “But I’m sure you’ll meet everyone eventually,”

Mumbo nodded slightly. He no longer felt tired, but the large crowd of people made him nervous. He had never seen so many people before, and this wasn’t apparently everyone.

Joe and Scar led Mumbo to the group. A few Hermits introduced themselves. Doc, Stress, Cub, Impulse, Ren, and quite a few others.

“Where’s Grian and Xisuma? Weren’t they here when we left to get Mumbo?” Scar asked the others. “Xisuma had to show Grian something. I’m sure they’ll be back soon though,” Iskall walked over.

“Hey Mumbo, if you need any help getting started, I have a few extra things. That is if you plan on staying here very long.” Iskall placed a light purple block on the ground. “I’m happy to take whatever you’re willing to give,” Mumbo sat down on a makeshift chair, which was really just stairs and a couple of signs. The purple block opened revealing items inside. “What is that—?!” He immediately stood up. Iskall put his hands up. “Oh no worries, it’s just a shulker box. It’s not going to hurt you,” Iskall laughed and Mumbo relaxed. “Oh- I didn’t know,”

“Speaking of you not knowing stuff,” a voice appeared from behind the crowd. It was Xisuma. “You don’t seem to know much about this world. You act as if you’ve never seen a flower before. You’re not from here, are you Mumbo?” He asked.

Mumbo shook his head hesitantly. “No- I’m from my world. This place is so different than mine.” He replied. “Where’s Grian?” Iskall asked. “He had to stay behind and work on something..” Xisuma replied. “Mumbo, can you tell us all about your world?” He continued.

Mumbo slowly sat back down in the chair. Everyone’s eyes were glued onto him now. The clock was ticking louder. “Well, to start off, everything’s a lot brighter. The trees, the grass, the water- although, the night is pitch black. I could barely see a thing,” he began. “My world.. it’s like this one, just- it doesn’t have as many things. It doesn’t have this tall grass,” he picked at the grass that went to his knees. “It doesn’t have these flowers,” he pointed to an orange tulip. “And it most certainly doesn’t have Phantoms or Shulkerboxes-,”

Xisuma hummed. “I figured... Mumbo, I believe you may be from the past.” He stated. A few hermits choked. “What? From the past? Xisuma are you okay?” Someone asked.

“The past? How can I be from the past?” Mumbo asked. “There’s no way- that’s impossible. Does this place have time machines here as well as all this other weird stuff?” He asked. Everyone shook their heads. “Not that I know of,” Ren said.

“I’m sorry, Mumbo, but I don’t think we’ll be able to get you back home. The stuff you’re describing about your world is how the world used to be years ago, nearly a century ago.” Xisuma explained. Mumbo frowned. “I can’t get home-?” He spoke quietly to himself.

What was even waiting for him at home? More creepers? Terrible nature scenery? A horrible house he spent so long on and still managed to make it look bad? The more he thought of it, the more Mumbo realized that there was no point in trying to get back home when he could start a new life here.

“You’re welcome to stay here and join in the community,” X went on. “There are a few islands that haven’t gotten claimed that I’m sure no one minds you taking.”

Mumbo stared at the grassy ground. The clock was still getting gradually louder. “Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll stay here. I have nothing left to lose anyway,” he shrugged slightly with a smile. “I’m sure I have a lot to learn though..” his smile faltered a bit. “For starts, what in the world is that—?” He pointed off to something small and white behind a tree. The hermits turned around to see a chicken pecking at the ground, inspecting the dirt for seeds.

“That’s- uh- a chicken.” Stress laughed. Others joined in on the laughter. “Chickens. Wow. This the world has everything,” Mumbo chuckled with the others. Sure, he barely knew anything from this new world- the future- but, he at least got an opportunity to start over and a reason to laugh. Two things Mumbo didn’t think would ever happen.

___

Please let me know how you’re liking this fic and au! :D Got any headcanons or theories? Please tell me! ^^

[khaosgaming22]

Cryptic Messages from the Deep Stones Below

“Had another nightmare huh?” Rick held the sides of his head and nodded. Chao did not have them nearly as often as Rick and his were much lighter when they occurred. Most of the time he didn’t want to talk about them, but the few times he did he described one as a regular dream. It started out with him in a field of flowers with the sun shining, nothing but the city in the background nestled into the mountain side. Then the sun disappeared, the field of flowers immediately wilted and the city in the background changed. A tower arose and turned the sky from blue to red and it snapped in half to come crashing down on top on him. Then nothing but darkness and an endless army of Exos that came rushing to fight him, leaving no option but to fight back. Chao stopped asking after that dream...

~

The two of them eventually got up and put their armor on to go to the Tower, Exos didn’t need to eat either. Chao did with Ken and Drake on occasion but most of the time he skipped the pointless activity. They made their way toward Shaxx before going to the Crucible for the day, however the Titan threw a bit of a wrench into their plans.

“Ah! Chao and Rick my two favorite Crucible warriors! How has the morning been for you two?” Chao looked over at Rick who gave a shake of his head signaling to keep quiet.

“Been good so far Shaxx.” Chao responded fixing his mark a bit.

“Good to hear. Sorry to interrupt your utter domination of the enemy team but can I ask you something?” Chao shrugged.

“Sure thing. What do you need us to do?” Shaxx showed them a map on a tablet.

“I am thinking about where to put a new Crucible arena and this place looked interesting.” Chao looked at the area and nodded, then he stopped for a second when he read the location: Enceladus. A moon in Saturn’s orbit that was full of ice to most, but to Exos... it was full of terror. He knew he already agreed to it so he couldn’t back out now.

“We’ll scope it out Shaxx.” He replied nodding and Rick gave a thumbs up, the two were inseparable, whatever Chao did Rick did and vise versa.

“Excellent! I would pay you in Crucible tokens but I think you have enough of those already.” Shaxx said laughing in his booming voice.

“Glimmer is just fine, don’t sweat it.” Chao replied, Shaxx nodded and waved as they transmatted to their ships. Chao took the lead and Rick followed as they passed the asteroid belt and the large mass of the gas giant Jupiter.

“So I guess we’re goin pretty far today aren’t we?” Chao responded with a simple “yup”, refraining from telling where they were heading for the time being.

“So... where then?” Chao tensed his grip on the controls of the ship, he couldn’t lie to him, but he could tell him half of the story.

“Moon of Saturn.” He said simply, trying not to say it too quickly in fear of arousing suspicion. Luckily it didn’t and Rick nodded in his cockpit. Chao navigated them past the giant hole in the planets ring, the battleground of the Awoken people’s first push against Oryx the Taken King. Many lives were lost to the energy pulse that created the large gap and it was also the last player Mara was seen until one guardian discovered the Dreaming City. Chao and Rick touched down on the icy surface of the frozen moon and loaded their weapons just in case.

“Huh... this place seems oddly familiar somehow.” Rick pondered as the two walked to the site Shaxx mentioned, which wasn’t easy because the wind was strong and snow was blowing around everywhere. Chao stayed quiet, he would either figure it out eventually, or wouldn’t. He hoped it was door number two.

“Alright, here we are.” He said looking up at the map and taking in the large expanse of ice sheets from the cliff of a glaicer. He looked confused until he saw the cargo ship encased in the mass of the cliff.

“So... where exactly is he thinking this area is going to be?” Rick asked and looked down at where Chao pointed. Rick gave a very pleased smirk. “Oh helllll yes!” Chao laughed and began to make his way down to the ship as Rick followed taking glances at the surroundings. He could see almost all of the planet in the distance.

~

Chao and Rick jumped down onto what was the dock of the Golden Age freighter and looked around. The ship was completely lodged into the ice so they didn’t need to worry about it coming down.

“I can see why Shaxx wanted to put it here, the view is amazing and this ship is the perfect size.” Rick nodded in agreement.

“Definitely, I could see point A here, point B over there and point C right....” He stopped and looked at the logo on the other half of the split ship. Chao glanced over to him and could tell something was wrong even without his helmet off.

“What’s wrong Rick? oh....” He saw the insignia that read clear as day the words every Exo started from: Clovis Bray...

“Clovis Bray?! But we’re not on Mars, we’re on..... Enceladus.” Rick paced around frantically and his vision began to become distorted like he was having flashbacks, except they weren’t, more like visions.

“Hey hey hey, Rick stay with me bud.” Chao said attempting to snap him out of it, it wasn’t working though. Rick’s vision got worse then it blackened and he saw the tower in the distance. Nestled into the mountain range with the city, the ice disappeared along with the ship and Chao was only seen as an enemy to him. Rick’s eyes turned red and he lunged at Chao with arc energy crackling in his fist. Chao jumped and put up his barricade.

“Rick what the hell?! This isn’t the time for a match!” Chao noticed his eyes and terror ran down his synthetic spine. Rick took out his shotgun and rushed him spraying shells that only bounced off his wall. He jumped over it and switched to his Lunas Howl firing hancannon rounds at Chao. Chao realized this was no Crucible fight, if he died now he would tear apart Servo and he’d die for good.

“Alright then Rick, if it’s a fight you want, then it’s a fight you’ll get.” He said switching to his Recluse that hit him dead on but didn’t kill him entirely. Rick made an attempt with his grenade launcher and Chao put up his Ward of Dawn to shield himself from the explosives. They bounced off and hit Rick which sent him flying toward the edge of the ship. Chao exited his bubble and walked over to him keeping his SMG aimed and ready. He couldn’t imagine what this was like for Rick. Rick picked himself back up holding his side and lunged at him slamming the ground in one final push. It knocked Chao off his feet but he quickly shut him down with a well placed tracking rocket. Rick was blasted away and Getty appeared to revive him.

~

“Phew! That was intense.” Chao said putting his weapons away. Rick was back soon and held his head in his hands.

“What... what happened? And why does everything hurt?” Chao helped him up and sat him down on a crate that was frozen shut.

“I honestly have no clue, but since we are on Enceladus I’m guessing the Crypt got to ya somehow...” Rick’s optics snapped open.

“The... the Crypt? Oh god Chao what did I do?!” He grabbed his head and looked down at the dock.

“Hey hey Rick calm down everything is fine okay? You just went a little nuts for a bit, all that matters now is you’re back.” He stopped panicking after a while and nodded slowly. Chao smiled knowing his friend was back but knew that they probably should leave soon in case it happened again.

“Hey?” Rick asked Chao looking at the box they were sitting on. “I think this is a weapon symbol.” Sure enough the crate had the letters CB and a rifle in the middle of the two.

“Well... what say we crack this thing open and see what’s inside? Glimmer from Shaxx will be nice buuuut it’s not like we should let these go to waste.” Chao said smirking and Rick nodded, punched the layer of frost off and shot the latch. A pile of weaponry spilled out onto the dock and Rick grabbed a machine gun.

“Ooh! That looks like it could pack a punch!” Chao said looking it over, it had a dark red paint job with vents on the side, probably to keep it from overheating, as well as the Clovis Bray insignia. Rick arched an eyebrow and slung it over his giant shoulders.

“Yeah well I saw it first soooo dibs.” Chao looked at him and grinned.

“Now Rick, you know our policy with dibs.” Rick cursed under his breath.

“If you call dibs and someone else challenges you fight for it.” He quoted. “Yeah yeah alright...” He put the gun up on another crate and readied his handcannon. “Ready to get your ass kicked Chao-5?” Chao laughed and loaded his Recluse.

“Nope! But I hope you are Rick-6!”

[hotchocolatefanfics]

Whumptober 2019: 4: Human Shield

Description: What if Nova didn't get the chance to escape? What if the soldiers and the Colonel saw her before Rocket could save her?

WARNING: This one-shot contains major character death and plot change.

~~~~~~~~~

“Apes together strong!” 

Did she even know what that sign meant? Or how important it was? Caesar couldn’t tell but clearly Nova understood it meant something to him. 

It proved one thing to Caesar. That Nova was, and truly, ape. Even if she wasn’t born into their species, she was one of them. 

His smile suddenly fell as the sound of the soldiers coming startled him. First he heard their voices, then their footsteps. 

Coming closer…!

Nova desperately looked around for a place to hide-too late!

“Hold it right there!” 

“Stay where you are!”

“Put your hands up!” 

They all shouted at once. Nova, looking like a dear in headlights, froze. Her parka kept her covered, but her heart had to be pounding. 

Caesar was on his feet now. He attempted to break the cage wall so he could get out and protect her but he was still very weak from being on that cross for so long and the cage was much stronger than he was. 

He realized in horror that he…Could do nothing…But watch helplessly. 

Two figures appeared then, The Colonel with Red following. Behind his glasses, the bald human stared at the girl with, what could only be assumed to be, surprise. 

Nova’s eyes went from the Colonel, to the gun in his holster. 

All she knew about this man was that he was, what Bad Ape would say, bad…So were guns…This was a bad place.

McCullough frowned at the girl. There were no human children in the base. If there ever had been, they were long gone. Where did this kid come from? And with seemingly no adults with her, how could she have come here? 

“Who are you?” He asked, keeping his voice low. 

Caesar’s felt a pit growing in his throat. Remembering how the Colonel killed his own son. A human who was infected…Infected, with the very thing that Nova had…

Nova didn’t answer him. She couldn’t! 

Caesar’s heart started to beat faster. He glanced at the soldiers, most of which had their guns pointed at the girl with cold-blank expressions. Only two people aside from him and the apes watched on with different looks. 

Preacher was trying to hide it but his horror and dread were taking over his features. He had seen the Colonel do things before…Bad things…To the infected…He had to have known what was about to happen next. 

Red, meanwhile, looked more confused than anything else. Glancing from the girl to Caesar and back again. Not yet understanding the situation. Caesar could only assume him and the other Donkey’s weren’t there if and when the Colonel killed other human children.

“Hey!” The Colonel tried again. “Answer me when I’m talking to you!”

He was willing to give the girl a chance. Children weren’t exactly known for their people skills. He was open to the idea that maybe the girl was just being defiant. She looked to be somewhere between eleven to twelve, give or take, so that behavior wouldn’t be unusual. 

Only one chance though…Just one. 

When she didn’t answer him, he slowly pulled out his gun and pointed it at her, more as a test than a threat. 

But Nova interpreted it as a threat…A threat to Caesar. 

Not breaking eye contact, her features changed into a frown of her own. Despite the soldiers shouting at her, she slowly moved her arms down. 

Now she stood like a scarecrow…A defensive pose…Defending Caesar!

No! Caesar’s mind screamed. Don’t protect me! Run!

A couple of the soldiers started to lower their guns in silent, confused surprise. They weren’t expecting that. 

Preacher’s wide eyes were darting from McCullough to the girl in a panic while Red’s heavy eyebrows were raised. 

Nova had not said a word but her defending Caesar spoke louder than any words could have…She had just, inadvertently, showed them that she knew him…Cared about him.

McCullough, now pointing the gun at both of them, looked at Caesar suspiciously. “Who is she?” He demanded. 

The Ape King’s heart was practically racing while his stomach did flip flops. He didn’t know how nor wanted to answer that question yet somehow the words: “Please! Don’t…Hurt her!” found their way out of his mouth. 

He didn’t expect preacher to suddenly say-or rather, stutter-something. “S-Sir? M-Maybe we should just-“

But he was too late…McCullough made up his mind. 

Before anyone could stop him, he point the gun-not at Caesar, but at the girl. And pulled the trigger. 

“NO!”

The sound was quickly followed by many others. Nearly all the soldiers were emptying their guns into Nova. The only other sound was the screeching from the other apes. Caesar jumped back into the wall of his cage, horrified at what he was seeing but unable to look away.

Nova now laid on the wet, snowy ground. Blood pouring out of her. Her lifeless eyes open, gazing at nothing…Dead.

The apes were still screeching loudly. The soldiers began to bang on the gates to silence them though the Donkeys appeared to be just as frightened and in shock as the imprisoned colony. 

“Take her body and burn it! Get rid of it and anything else that may have been contaminated! If anyone starts showing symptoms, you know what to do!” The Colonel barked, giving the orders as if they meant nothing. 

“Sir!” Preacher, who was shaking, ran over to him. “She was just a child! We didn’t have to-“ 

“She was infected!” The Colonel yelled at him. “Worse than that, she chose the ENEMEY over HUMANITY! She deserved to die!” With that, he left with some of the other soldiers. 

Caesar stared at Nova’s body until a blanket fell over her and she was taken away. Heart still pounding, he glanced at the soldiers as they moved. The Donkeys hesitated before following. 

Only Preacher and Red stayed. Preacher looking close to tears while the look on Red’s face confirmed Caesar’s earlier suspicions. He wondered if Red and the other traitors would have joined the Colonel at all if they knew he’d kill children from his own species.

Preacher was the first one to look at Caesar. In a, what sounded like, apologetic voice, he whispered only seven words “I hate it when he does this.” before leaving.

Red watched the young soldier leave before also looking at Caesar. Staring at him for a long moment until he finally sighed and followed after Preacher. It was hard to know if the turncoat gorilla felt any remorse for Nova’s death but he clearly didn’t agree with the Colonel’s choice to kill her. 

Alone again, Caesar felt hot tears build up in his eyes for the human girl. He remembered how he was so ready to abandon her when he and the others discovered her. How frightened and pitiful she was. 

That same girl…Saved his life by getting him food and water…And then she became his human shield…And now, she’s gone…Murdered by The Colonel…Just like his beloved Cornelia, and Blue Eyes, and Percy, and Spear and…So many others…

His tears of anguish gave way to burning hatred as the same fire he felt when the Colonel killed his wife and son was reborn. 

He had to get the apes out of here. He had to save them all…And the Colonel…The Colonel had to pay for this! 

He was going to kill that human…For Cornelia. For Blue Eyes…And for Nova, who had always belonged in the colony.

[piscesbarnes]

Because of You [6] → Bucky Barnes AU

pairing: eventual bucky x reader

warnings: torture, violence

prompt: he remembers you. you remember hydra.

Bucky couldn’t get your face out of his head. Your voice, it was softer than when he previously had seen you. You were a completely different person. There was no way you were the same person. Why? He left you; years ago, you had died. He watched you die. He checked your pulse on the night he killed you. He remembered the look of betrayal and love in your open but dead eyes.

The guilt ate him alive. He was so sure it was you, however you were different. You had the same body, same face; but you were different all around.

It was almost half a decade ago that you’d been with him last. You’d fallen in love with him- the Winter Soldier. Of course, you were human at the time, unaware of his capabilities. You hadn’t any idea of his background, but you knew he came from a troubled place. At least that’s what he told you.

Bucky remembered the moment he set eyes on you. He knew you were perfect. Perfect in a sense that meant you could harbor him until the time came. You’d jumped into a relationship with him shortly after meeting him. He observed you for weeks prior to meeting you; you were well-reserved, only leaving the house to check your mail. He somehow convinced you to let him stay with you, rocketing your relationship into the next level. Surely, you were somewhat close to him. He knew all of your secrets, insecurities, and frustrations while you were aware of lies. The Winter Soldier made up everything when you were with him. He watched you blatantly fall in love with him. And it wasn’t the lies that you let yourself get attached to. There was some realness in him. Like when he’d hold you while you cried. Even through his darker, thicker side, he felt some sort of soft spot for you. That’s when he became the death of you.

Towards the end of the mission, he had established that through your one year relationship, a month of it felt real to him. You made him feel things. You brought him back to life. And that came with the overwhelming feeling of fear. Fear of you finding out, HYDRA killing you themselves, just not having you love him anymore.

The way Bucky remembered it... It was like you had a superpower without even realizing. You were the cause of his surpressed feelings resurfacing. You revived Bucky and let Bucky push the soldier away.

The Winter Soldier was the death of you. Quite literally. HYDRA reprogrammed him once more. Any adoration he felt, soon caused him to associate that feeling with panic and pain. So when you smiled at him, his heart thumped a little harder than it should have. It wasn’t until the celebration of your one year anniversary that the feelings were washed away and replaced with a malevolent exterior.

Bucky remembered the way your voice sounded, the fear that surfaced when he stalked towards you with dark, brooding eyes that only meant trouble. He remembered how you cried out his name in confusion when he wrapped his hands around your throat. He remembered how you tried to defend yourself, breaking out of his hold. It killed you inside to see this nature of him, but it hurt him even more. Everything that was buried underneath these layers of abuse and torture had finally seeped through, for you. And it was out of his control at this point, he was hurting you with his body. Bucky was trapped in his own body.

Bucky cried. He mourned your death, crying for you, even though he was the one to kill you. He watched the color drain from your skin, the brights of your eyes turn dull. The saddest part was he was the only one to mourn you because he had to hide your body, not that anybody would look for you. You died at the hands of someone you truly loved.

His eyes were teared up, remembering the passionate person you used to be. Sure, you were a little moody, but he endured it because even if he didn’t love you the way you loved him, you made the same impact as he did you. You were why he snapped out of his trance. It took your life to save his.

With the help and assurance of Wanda, Bruce and Dr. Cho managed to hook you up to a machine. You had a few rubber suction cups on your face to track your nerves and its reactions.

“We just need you to roam through (Y/N)’s head. Find out all you can.” Tony ordered to Wanda. You stared straight ahead in a trance.

“Are you sure this will be safe?” Wanda questioned again.

“You sure managed to convince them it would be, why are you now doubting it?” Tony answered with a question. Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, unsure of the question herself. She nodded to herself, saunting towards your body. Wanda stared at your state. You weren’t exactly conscious; your eyes were open, but you weren’t responsive. It made the process less painful.

The sorceress lifted her hand, twiddling her fingers as she closed her eyes, diving deep into your mind. You grunted, blinking as your body’s initial reaction was to reject her. You body tensed as Wanda fought for control over you. Tony grew concered, stepping forward with how much you were fighting back. It was then that your fighting ceased, your breathing leveling out as you relaxed in the chair.

The whip crackled against your skin, a yelp escaping your lips as you tried to stay still. You clenched your jaw tightly, trying to fight the pain the coursed your entire body.

“You will no longer fight our discipline Little Angel!” the foreign man’s accent rang clear as day as he expressed his anger. Another lash of the whip seared your back, emitting no noise from you this time as you clamped your eyes shut. “You will comply to our orders, do you hear me? You will be the one to give life back to our dead soldiers. You will be HYDRA’s greatest weapon.”

Wanda could physically feel the blood leaking out of your wounds. She could feel the pain of the mad scientist pouring salt into your wounds before patching you up. She could feel your urge, the need of you wanting to cry. To scream. But you didn’t.

Another part of your mind she found herself in was your years with Nick Fury. A younger you, naive, innocent.

You were crying. Something she hadn’t expected to see. Your heart was hurting, you held an agent in your arms as you shed your feelings of guilt and grief for her. She was a friend of yours, having been killed in an ambush. Flames engulfed around you, but it was the least of your worries. You wanted to grieve her for a little longer, but the booming sound of Director Fury’s voice caused you to look up.

“Angel!” he looked angry, his eyebrows furrowed in a way you hadn’t seen before. Nick tugged on your arm and you cried even more, shaking your head as you tried cupping the lifeless body to your chest. He managed to yank you away, forcing you to the quinjet that was waiting for you.

You looked out the window, hoping it’d be a dream. The place you’d been so comfortable in, the place you lived in when Nick took you in, was now completely on fire. You hadn’t even been a yard away until the building exploded, destroying any hopes of rebuilding it.

Nick Fury knelt in front of you, forcing your chin to look at him. A look of disappointment flashed in his eyes. You almost died twice.

“You need to do something about those emotions of yours.” Nick told you, scolding you.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” you sniffled even more. He really was about to make you feel bad for having feelings? “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Well you need to get them in check.” his voice grew louder, your body tensing up. “People die in this business. They know it when they sign the contract. If you’re gonna cry over every passed agent, we don’t need you.” your heart was torn from your chest and stomped on. This was the man whom you’d looked up to for so long, the man who made you feel accepted even when you felt like an outsider. “Feelings are the worst weakness to have. I promise you, the minute they see you having a soft spot for the people by your side on the field, your team will drop the floor like flies. So, fix it Angel.” he demanded harshly before stalking away.

The next part of your mind boggled Wanda’s brain. You were staring at Bucky, trying to figure him out. He was in orange and blue attire, the team colors of the Mets. He was aware of your eyes on him, but maybe decided not to pay attention. Suddenly the side of his face... changed. Transitioned to another time, another place. But he was in the same position, only his hair was a little shorter. It was him under the moonlit sky. And then, she was back in the present. The feelings she felt radiating off of you when you were with Bucky in another time, it was easily the most vibrant feeling she’d felt from you.

The final memory was like a trigger. It was exactly a trigger.

“Good. Lightning. Six. Identity. Eleven. Blue. James. Reborn.”

It wasn’t until you twitched in the chair that Tony went to reach for Wanda. Bruce retaliated, keeping Tony’s arms down.

“If you rip Wanda from Angel’s mind, it’ll hurt. Who knows what damage it could cause to the both of them.“ it made sense. Don’t interrupt a bear’s sleep.

You began panting heavily, slowly regaining full consciousness. You were successfully pushing Wanda out of the depths of your head. Your eye twitched as you gripped the arm of the chair uncomfortably. An excruciating pain spread like wildfire, Wanda still being partly in your head, shrieking at the feeling. Your neuron waves were going berserk.

You pushed Wanda out of your head completely. Tony, Bruce, and Dr. Cho could physically make out the vibrant red aura that exited your body and back into Wanda. You were fully conscious at this point, ripping your arms free from the leather cuffs that held your wrists down. You ripped the suction cups from your forehead, tossing them carelessly.

“Woah, Angel, hey, it’s okay.” Tony put his arms up as he walked toward you as you began to scream.

“Angel’s back Tony,” Wanda panted. She knew what she felt. Your back. Tony tried to grab you, but you shoved him with the palms of your hands, using your strength. An opaque aura surrounded you, enveloping you as tears streamed down your face. Bruce stood to calm you, but Dr. Cho held him back.

Feelings are the worst weakness to have. You tried sucking it up, quieting your sobs as you wiped away your tears as best as you could. They would only be replaced with a fresh set.

“Intermission!” Wanda strongly spoke after she regained enough strength to stand. You froze, the sound of your teary hiccups replacing the sound of your crying and screaming.

Bruce reached out and touched your shoulder. You tensed up, but realized who it was. You were unusually quiet for someone who just had a breakdown. You just didn’t have anymore energy. Bruce mentioned Dr. Cho that there was blood seeping through your shirt. Your eyes never left Wanda’s as they pulled you to the medical table. She now knew everything about you. Well, only the parts you knew.

Dr. Cho sedated you, your eyes falling shut as she flipped you over to your stomach. She used a pair of scissors to remove your blood-filled shirt. Your scars had opened and she wanted to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

“What happened?” Bruce panted, in the blue of what all went down in her head.

“Angel heard their trigger words. The ones HYDRA tried to use to make them their weapon.” her voice dripped lowly. She longed for you to be happy, to want to feel that.

“And what was it that would consider (Y/N) to be a weapon?”

“The giver and taker of life.” Wanda sniffled, reminiscing in all of the emotions felt in your head. “They wanted Angel to be their new army.”

“Wait, I thought they didn’t comply to HYDRA? How could the trigger words affect them?” Bruce furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He was well aware that HYDRA was going to ship you to Russia for intermediate discipline.

“They weren’t. HYDRA conditioned Angel to feel pain every time the words were said. As soon as they noticed progress was happening, they wanted to move.” Bruce didn’t have any further questions about you. Only catering to Wanda’s vitals and wounds, if any.

Wanda wasn’t stupid or forgetful. She was still caught on why your trigger words would involve James. James as in Bucky. She knew you knew him too. Why were you and Bucky connected?

TAGS @mannls @animegirlgeeky @averagenightterrors

[scarletta-ec]

A Blade to Grind

She rolled around her bed. It was big enough. She had the room to all herself. She rolled so furiously she ended up cocooned in fine silk, the most magnificent butterfly about to escape her confines.

Instead a very angry Ly flailed her way out, and sat up, hair flung everywhere and her face red.

She furiously scrambled to the edge of her bed and kicked her feet into her slippers. Then Ly confronted herself in her vanity. She beheld her flushed face, huffing angrily, until the color drained away, leaving only the sweat on her brow.

Ly swept her bangs to the side, shook her head, and cleared her throat.

"You are a Li. Lis do not fail. Lis do not come second. We are simply the best. Our golden hair shows... we are the treasure of Levianta."

She looked down and silently pulled a drawer open. Within, a pair of gloves lay. Fine baemu pig leather. Don't judge. The church only condemned its consumption, not use.

She swiftly slipped them onto her hands, revealing it was fashioned to expose her palms, a careful sigil carved into the back.

“That mage my parents consulted said this would amplify magic. If she lied, I'll make sure there's hell to pay.” She clenched her fist. Under her breath, she hissed, “Cross the Lis and you'll never see daylight again.”

Ly stood up and cracked her knuckles. But as she was about to thrust her hands forward, she hesitated before even saying a word. She sat back on the velvet cushion before her vanity and turned around. Her eyes nervously shifted left and right before beholding a glass bottle. She held her hands in a prayer, mentally asking Levia to shine down on her.

“... Zuro torrekasu!”

Ly held out a stiff arm and open palm to the bottle, a clear foot away. It did not move. She swung her fist upon the vanity desk, causing the bottle to jump away by a centimeter.

“I can make men fall to their knees and yet…! Not even a bottle—!!”

Unclenching her fists, Ly held both arms and repeated the incantation, straining so hard she could feel the pressure in her temples.

“Zu-ro! To-rre! KA-SU!”

Slowly but surely, the bottle began to move itself away from her palms. Smiling with sick glee, Ly dragged it side to side. Then she pulled it close by taking her hands and curling them towards her chest until her fists were planted flat against her heart.

“Yes…” she purred. “That's good. Very good. Everything will be fine as long as everything listens to me.”

Eyes closed, she reflexively shot a hand out as the bottle neared the edge and caught it. Ly smugly placed it back and adjusted it's position with a single finger, manually. She calmly turned around, and not even looking, waved her hand and chanted the spell. Her extensive closet opened as if automated. Ly balled her hands into fists, and giggled.

A knock echoed through her spacious room.

“Miss Ly?” a masculine voice curiously ran out. “Are you awake?”

The door clicked open and a figure attempted to squeeze at least its head through the space.

“GET OUT!” Ly screeched, manually taking the cushion off her vanity seat and hurling it at the intruder. The man instantly retreated, shutting the door, the cushion flopping against it and sliding upon the smooth tiled floor.

Ly seethes ugly grumbling through her teeth, which ground and ached.

“I can’t get any PRIVACY, CAN I?! I’m going to tell my FATHER about this!”

An exasperated mumble could barely be heard through the door.

“Are you LISTENING?”

She angrily stomped over to the door and throw it back open. Her now-stringy blonde hair splayed over her contorted red face as she curled around to stare at the guard, now attempting to shrink and blend in with the fleur-de-lis patterned hallway.

“... Yes, Miss Ly,” he responds, not looking.

A tense silence passed between the two of them.

The guard finally turned his head, but avoiding eye contact.

“I just thought you were sleep-talking so I was about to ignore it, but then you shouted and laughed so I—”

“So, you barged into my room?”

“I… knocked?”

“And did you wait for an answer from me?”

Her strikingly blue eyes pierced through him as he made the mistake of looking up.

“Just following orders, Miss Ly. I thought it was best to—”

“Following orders? I’ll give you some orders. I order you to fetch me some medicine for the headache you’ve given me, then promptly FUCK OFF.”

The guard silently nods his head and rushes off in the direction of the bathhouse. Ly slams the door closed behind her, and slides down with her back to the wall. She peels the gloves off her hands, and tossing them aside, rubs her temples. Ly wasn’t embellishing about her headache. Though the stated cause is perhaps not so accurate.

Maybe it was her yelling or the headache itself but a high pitched whine cut through her head at that moment. At first, it seemed maybe it was merely her ears making up a noise to hear in the midst of the silence, but the sound grew in intensity. Rubbing temples grew a full-hand grip over her ears but the sound did not dull. Ly’s breathing grew heavier and more desperate as she dug her nails into her scalp before the whine reached its ever-growing height.

A chime rang out. In the room, not her head. Somehow, it seems the chime scared the noise away. Ly got up off the floor and looked around. She marched over to her bedside and leaned over. Ly pulled a compact off her nightstand and pulled it open, observing the insides.

The place where a mirror traditionally would be was all black, stray lines of static dotting it like snow. The caller was unlisted.

Ly held the compact to her face, about to address them, but hesitantly placed it up the side of her face instead.

“Good evening, Miss Li.”

“Who gave you this number?”

“You did, of course.”

Ly remained silent for a moment as she looked up in thought.

“Dr. Twiright? It must be past midnight, what do you think you’re doing, calling me?”

“Not a night owl, as I thought?” Seth retorted. “But you answered regardless.”

“I could have been asleep. You would have interrupted my beauty sleep.”

“Impossible,” he cheerfully noted. “I knew you were awake.”

Was the room always so cold? Ly scoffed straight into the compact.

“Did that guard snitch on me to you?”

“... Sure.”

Certainly it wasn’t this cold before.

“I… don’t like your tone, Twiright. I’ll complain to my father.”

Seth was unbothered, apparently.

“No need to make a fuss. I’ve already taken note. But, you do understand your safety is our top priority, as per your father’s instructions, so we cannot reduce the amount of guards sent to watch you.”

Ly, frustrated, stomped the ground and grimaced, a childish whine escaping her closed mouth.

“I thought you were used to such attention,” Seth said, sounding amused. “You’re never without a bodyguard out in public, right?”

Ly crossed her arms, pinning the compact between her face and shoulder.

“Of course, that’s out in public with the commoners, or maybe just outside the mansion.”

She sits down on her bed.

“When they’re peeking into my room when I’m busy doing something, that’s where I cross a line.”

“Busy at midnight?”

“What do you want, Twiright.”

“What I want is somewhat irrelevant. But it aligns quite well with what you all want.”

“You all? You mean the Lis or the other candidates?”

“Indeed,” he says without elaboration. “What we all want is for a woman with great magical potential to conceive the divine twins.”

Ly checks her nails.

“What…? No… I couldn’t believe it even in person…” she droned sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Well, regardless, as I am talking to you right now, assume this woman is you.”

“I already am,” Ly snidely replies, barely suppressing a self-satisfied smile on her face.

“So, in that case, your low scores are cause for concern.”

“... Pardon?”

“Hm? Weren’t the test results shipped to you?”

Ly rolls off her bed and checks her nightstand drawers.

“No… A servant fetches our mail and delivers them to my father. He gives me mail addressed to me… What is the concern?”

In her mind, Ly raced for the possibilities. Rocketing past the elephant in the room, was her magical potential too strong to safely carry children? Is the sort of magic she carries not the right kind the Senate is looking for?

“It pains me to say it,” Seth said, sounding like he was smiling. “But your MOTHER scores are the lowest out of all of the candidates.”

“... P… pardon?”

“You have the lowest scores out of all of the candidates for Project ‘Ma’,” he repeated without pause. “You even failed to reach the Magic 170 minimum. But your father insisted we consider you for the position.”

Ly’s mouth squirmed into a twisted position. There were a lot of things she felt right now. The most positive thing she was feeling right then was likely how being a Li saved her from failure, even if it was her father’s doing. But even so, her father hid her objective failure from her.

“What was my Magic level?” she hissed through puckered lips.

“150. 20 points short of the minimum.”

“... What of the other candidates?”

“I’m afraid I cannot divulge that information. Strictly confidential between me, the staff, and them. But yes, they all generally scored higher than you.”

No tears were coming out. She wasn’t straining or anything. She didn’t want to cry or rage so hard she burst a blood vessel, but you’d expect that to be the innate reaction, no? And yet, nothing came of it. Her face twisted with confusion, Ly did nothing else. She certainly felt enough rage and despair bubbling up within her to warrant such actions, but her body refused to act on it for her.

“Can it be helped? Is there something I can do to increase my stats?”

“I’m afraid all we can do is run another test and see if your levels have somehow changed. There’s no shot or anything to improve it…” Seth sighed. “ You either have it… or you don’t.”

If Ly’s arm hadn’t frozen entirely in place, the compact would have slowly slipped from her grasp.

“Your family doesn’t use magic, does it?” he continued.

“No, not… liberally.” Ly coldly uttered.

“The only magic your family wields is influence, hm?”

“...”

“Influence and cold cash.”

“We get it.” she hissed through her teeth.

“Hadn’t you noticed any deficit while practicing your magic?”

Ly looked over at her gloves, left by the door. They seem so unapproachable now.

“You have been practicing, yes?”

“Yes.”

“So how has that been going for you?” he asked in a rising tone.

She bit her lip.

“It’s been… going.”

Silence ensued, dotted with the static of a poor connection through the compact.

“You know,” Seth finally said. “The magic isn’t truly all that important.”

“It isn’t?” Ly replied. “Then why the minimum? Why any requirement at all?”

“It is favorable, yes, but as long as you’re capable of having children and can handle carrying twins, it’s likely not an issue at all… We learned a hard lesson from the third project. Magic does no good if you can’t carry the twins.”

“I’ll be up front, Twiright. I don’t have the faintest clue what you’re telling me this for, or what to think of it.”

“What I think is, magic won’t matter if you’re the only choice.”

Ly heard these words, brushing aside her bangs, but the weight of them only made itself apparent a few seconds later.

“You are proposing…”

“If the other three disappeared—” the voice said. “–You would be Ma.”

Ly parted her lips ever so slightly, but closed them again. She had nowhere to point her eyes. No eyes to connect to. But undoubtedly, Seth would hide his behind the glare of his spectacles. Nothing about him spelled “trustworthy man”. Everything instead spelled “snake”.

“What do you get out of this? Clearly you have personal stakes.” she finally barked.

“What I get? Someone to birth the divine twins. As we all want.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Seth. I demand an answer, and by Levia I will come over and beat it out of you myself.”

Clicking sound emanated from the compact. Seth was clicking his tongue at her.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such language, Ly. What would Irta think of it?”

“Why? Are you recording this call?”

“Mm,” Seth huffed, breaking his front of impartiality. “Well, you’re always being recorded. I’d watch my tongue.”

Ly walked over, with her back to her wall, attempting to shield herself behind her bed curtains. Her life was never as private as most others, but… As queen, would the security ever lighten up?

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Seth aggressively started again. “You have two problems. Your magic, and your candidacy. I have a feeling that while they are related, they are two different things for you. Ly, your utter magical incompetence compared to your peers, the candidates, eats away at you.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Seth. Get my name out of your mouth, you INSECT.”

“No amount of magic can fix that attitude problem you have.” Seth continued, ignoring her. “See, what gets you about your magic is that literally everyone else is better than you at it. And you aren’t used to that. It’s the same old story. You aren’t special.”

“I can erase you off the face of the earth, gutter trash.”

“No, you can hire people to do that to me. And no amount of name-calling will ever replace a genuine magic spell. But the thing is, magic is a non-worry if you secure your candidacy and make it to at least eight months after that. You can do it yourself, you can hire others, but personally I think doing it yourself removes a lot of uncontrollable variables.”

He sounded like he’d done it before.

“I know you want to, Ly. A prostitute who’s procreated with a terrorist can do better magic than you? I’m frankly not an envious person, but the gall of it all would piss me off, too.”

Ly glared forward, unflinchingly.

“But what do you get out of it,” she repeated.

“Me? First of all, a mother to the Twin Gods. And second, my salary has doubled because of your family’s contributions to keep you in the project. And if everything works out, I think we could be good friends. Rather, we’d have to. Call my bluff, but I think we’re off on a great start.”

“Fuck you,” she reflexively hissed.

“Well, it’s a great start for me,” he sighed. “The candidacy issue was an easy fix. The magic one will still eat away at you, this I know. And as I said, there is no shot or regiment to increase your stats. But I think both issues have a single solution. Ly Li, if you would, please direct your eyes above your bed.”

Ly, for once in her life, did as she was asked. She wordlessly lifted her head up and glanced at the crossed swords mounted on her wall. Antique swords passed through her family. Her sister was supposed to inherit them, but she passed on the opportunity due to her distaste of combat, and thus they were presented to Ly on her sixteenth birthday. They were actually made of weak iron and consequently unfit for true combat, though she occasionally trained with them. They were kept only out of tradition, and more recently, decoration. As their owner, Ly was tasked to watch over them.

“You carry the treasure of Levianta, Ly. I leave everything to you.”

Before Ly could even parse together a response or question, the line went dead. She looked down at the compact and slowly closed it, her knuckles white from strain. Dropping it carelessly on the vanity counter, she climbed up onto her bed, reached up, and dismounted the twin swords.

Sitting back down cross-legged, she brushed the dust off of them and observed her reflection in the somewhat spotty blades. Flipping them over, words had been carefully etched onto a facet of the swords. “Exitium” on the right, and “Creaturae” on the left. “Destruction” and “Creation”. Surely symbolic, but their exact purpose was unknown to Ly.

Lifting the Destruction blade up to eye level, she observed the lamp light in her room sending a shimmering star down the edge of the blade. The headache-inducing whine returned with a vengeance, and yet… did not nearly ache as much as before. The noise itself wavered like a metallic ring.

The warm light of the lamp shifted to a cold blue. Had it gone out? It was as if it were replaced with moonlight. The room was cold and heavy, as if the air had turned to ice cold water. But Ly did nothing.

“Who… Mm-hmm… absolutely. You get it… you really do… I… I relent…”

A knock came to the door.

“Miss Ly… I’ve returned.”

Nothing was said.

“Is… this a test?”

Nothing was said. Then the door creaked open.

“I have your painkillers on hand, Miss…”

Ly was seated on the bed, back to the door. She looked behind herself, and at the guard.

“I don’t need them anymore. Now, screw off.”

The guard closed his eyes and slightly bowed. He backed away, shutting the door.

The next day, with the flick of an uncovered hand, the door of the Levia-Behemo temple was thrown open. The women inside enduring tests all looked up to see the guest.

“Sorry, all,” Ly’s voice rang out. “Couldn’t help but be fashionably late.”

“Fashionably late is just something the tardy say to excuse themselves for their breaking of an unspoken promise,” a girl lighting a candle with her finger said.

“Maybe so,” Ly shrugged. “But, again, I don’t listen to poor little girls who set fires.”

The girl blew out her newly lit candle and stared whale-eyed at Ly. The other blonde woman in the room leaned over in her seat, away from a table display of crystals.

“Ly, why don’t you go… did you just telekinetically open that door?”

Ly rolled her shoulder and bared a, indeed happy but very fake, grin at her.

“Why, yes. Yes, I did. I’m so glad you noticed.”

The scantily-clad woman relaxing off by the corner piped up.

“Wow, so you actually got talent now? Did Daddy finally buy you a life?”

“Is that how your mother taught you to address a queen, harlot?”

“Oh, ouch, a joke about my mother and my job?” she places a hand to her chest. “That hurts me in here.”

She pouts mockingly.

“Ha, ha,” Ly huffs. “You’re so cute, Milky. It’d be great if you stayed like that forever.”

Ly lays a hand on her hip, tracing the hilt of her Destruction sword.

Milky cocks an eyebrow up at that. She seems to not be quite able to parse the intention behind the odd compliment, but her scanning eyes show an attempt to formulate a comeback.

“Is that some sort of... pass at my job again? Something about cosmetic surgery?”

She motions all up and down her body.

“All natural, babe.”

Ly merely nods, eyes locked with Milky’s, a serene grin plastered on her face. If anyone goes first, it’s her.