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jangofctts · 4 years ago

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As You Are (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence and injuries, light choking, brief thigh riding/grinding, vaginal fingering with them metal fingies, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), fucking on sam’s couch

a/n: ok hi this fic is very self indulgent bUT YKNOW WHAT WHO CARES EKJHEJHKEJH this is my first fic for marvel and AH I hope I did Bucky justice. ENJOY YALL

This had been a terrible idea.

Right from the minute you tailed after he and Sam to the Baron’s extensive vintage car storage. Bucky had explicitly withheld any and all information regarding this little excursion to protect you but of course you’d shown up—none too jazzed about the little stunt Bucky pulled regarding the Baron. Fair.

You were right—Bucky should have called but that overwhelming guilt of dragging you into another one of his problems stopped him from pressing that little call button. He never wanted to be the reason you ended up back on the run again. Though judging by the way things were going, it was more than likely you’d be in prison by the end of the week.

Luck had your back in that sort of regard—too bad it could never rescue you from your own stubbornness and grief regarding that damn shield.

You’d taken a devastatingly hard hit from Walker—a fractured orbital, a split lip and a dislocated shoulder. All preventable—if only Bucky kept better track of you before you showed up in that warehouse alone. Left to fight the shadow of what was once a symbol of hope for some—another man playing dress-up in something that will never belong to him.

It was just their luck Bucky and Sam arrived in time—preventing you from becoming another red stain of violence splattered over that shield.

James Buchanan Barnes is not afraid of much—but fuck. Seeing you crumpled over the concrete floor, all bloodied and struggling to raise a hand to protect your face… It was the same feeling as injecting his veins with a pure shot of adrenaline and anger shrouded in fear. He promised Steve he’d look after you…

And as Sam carried you out of that warehouse you had the gall to tenderly tell them that you were just fine—as if your mouth weren’t full of blood and a face blooming with patchy bruises. The jealousy that sparked through Bucky’s chest when you clung to Sam’s chest did nothing to help that dark festering pit inside his ribcage he’s attempting to suture back together.

Bucky clenches his jaw. At least you’re asleep now. Curled up against the window, holding your injured arm in a way that limited the turbulence from jostling it. It’s the first time Bucky would describe you as fragile. He know’s you’re anything but that—stubborn mostly—yet most of all brave. It’s what Steve admired most about you—what Bucky loves most about you too. That vibrant spark flowing through your blood and how you’re not afraid to shout along to your favorite songs despite the odd looks you get. Bucky envies how self-assured you are, how you’ll never lose yourself because you know just where you’re headed. He wishes he still had that sort of drive instead of all this uncertainty and guilt clouding each muscle and fibre in his body.

Bucky doesn’t realize the jet has landed until Sam stands and and places a large hand over your shoulder. Your face scrunches as you whine and curl further into your seat. “C’mon, kiddo.” You grumble something inaudible. “You want me to carry you?”

The delicate plates of vibranium clink together as Bucky’s hand tightens into a fist, jealousy flaring hot and bright. He quickly stands, too fast to be considering anything less than awkward. Sam’s brow quirks. “I can do it.”

“It’s cool, man,” Sam says as he scoops one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “I got her.”

Bucky bristles. Whatever.

It’s not like you and him have anything together. A one sided plague of affection that you’ll never know about—he wants to tell you. Fuck, the words burn through his tongue and collect like ashes between his teeth and yet they are never voiced from self sabotage. There’s no possible way to voice how you’ve haunted his thoughts and his dream since the moment his eyes met yours. How he’s memorized the lines of your smile and the sweet sound of your laugh, the sweep of your lashes and the rhythm of your steps. Bucky would know you deaf, blind, numb, in this world or any other twisted reality.

He had said that he wasn’t afraid of much, but that’s not entirely true. Eternity, oblivion, crowded rooms, being alone too long. And you. You terrify him. You have the power to pluck at the very strings of his soul and unravel him completely until he’s no more—and you don’t even know it. Bucky Barnes is less afraid of dying than he is of loosing you but that fear never once provides him the courage to tell you. You may not be a scribbled name in his book, but he still hopes that one day he’ll earn the chance to strike his cowardice and put to rest the wretched ache in his heart that he feels for you.

He wishes he told you in Wakanda, after the Blip, Riga, and right this instant. He watches Sam carry you out of the jet—what’s a little more time?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The sun is beginning to melt into the horizon, turning the expanse of water into molten gold and shimmering blues. The hazy humidity from the late afternoon heat collects at the back of Bucky’s neck and the light breeze does nothing to cool. Bucky sighs and swipes at the bead of sweat creeping down his forehead with the back of his hand—he glances up.

A ghost of a smile creeps across his lips. You’re exactly where he and Sam left you three hours ago. Surprising to be quite honest—you never did like to stay in one place for longer than ten minutes. You’re a pain in his ass, simply said.

But now—now you’re haphazardly splayed out on the lawn chair you were forced into, a juice box loosely held in your good hand while the other still remains in the sling. He can’t tell if you’re asleep—Steve’s sunglasses do an excellent job of hiding your eyes. Yet as Bucky wanders closer, your head rolls to your right in greeting.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know,” you grumble, lifting the juice box to your mouth. Your lips purse around the plastic straw. “And before you ask—yes, I have a very important job I’m currently overseeing.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “What—hogging the lawn chair?”

“No—“ You huff. You gesture with your juice box at the large cooler your sandaled feet are propped up on. “I’m the booze master. God of the ale, destroyer of sobriety—“

“Alright, Booze Master,” Bucky interrupts with a snort. “Why don’t you bestow upon me a beer, your majesty.”

You tap your index finger over your chin as a lazy smile fixes itself over your lips. “Granted.”

You slide your legs off the cooler and with a pained grunt you shift forward. Bucky shoots his arm out and steadies you back against the chair by your shoulder before you get any further. Your face pulls into a grimace.

“I got it, kid. Relax.”

Bucky pops open the cooler and fishes out a beer and pops the cap off between his left index finger and thumb. You watch with a frown, “I could’ve done that for you.”

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes and takes a seat on the cooler. The bitter fizz floods his tastebuds as he takes a sip of his drink, a tangible silence blanketing the space between you. He gets it—people like he and you can never settle for complacency. As if the rest isn’t deserved despite the bloody knuckles and the shattered glass that slices through skin—the bruises and the broken bones. None of it is enough—not worthwhile to preserve yourself when other’s so desperately need your help.

Or maybe it’s penance.

Bucky sure as shit finds himself swallowed by the black maw of guilt each and every day. Battling the never ending shadow of doubt that clings to his soul like glitter to a an old carpet. Bucky believes it’s safe to say that you’re the same—every good deed you do added to the imaginary scale weighing against the bad despite it feeling hollow and insurmountable. Paying in blood to equate the amount you’ve spilled. A hopeless battle you both insist on fighting.

Bucky sighs through his nose, bends at the waist and collects both your ankles in his left hand. You let him lift them both and settle your legs over his knees. You shiver, an eruption of goosebumps rushing up your skin at the cold metallic shock of Bucky’s vibranium thumb scrapinh over your bare flesh.

Bucky’s lips tilt down ever so slightly. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” you rush to say before he has the chance to flee. “S’just cold.”

His hum reverberates low in his chest as those cerulean blue eyes fall to his hands. You clench your jaw until your teeth ache as his left thumb continues to stroke over the delicate skin covering the joint of your ankle. This is…new…

You’d been close with Steve and Sam, and by proxy Bucky—in some weird adjunct way. Compared to Sam’s teasing bumps of the shoulder and that infectious laugh far more addicting than the golden liquor of the sun, Bucky is frigid. Still attempting to shake off the whole Winter Soldier thing that’s molded onto his bones like stubborn permafrost. Touch had always been tricky with him—even a friendly pat over the back or a simple tap to the harm had him tensing under the touch—muscle and steel bunching to prepare for a harsh blow that would never arrive. Never from you.

Bucky rarely sought out your physical comfort—you were always the one to initiate those friendly touches even if he was the type to just sit and ignore you like a grouchy old cat barely clinging onto that ninth life. The first time he breached that fragile barrier was in Wakanda—something in Bucky cracked and split into a cavernous ravine of nebulosity. Stitches shred apart then stapled back together as he grabbed your arm and wrestled you into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t need to ask to realize he cried the entire time, gripping your shirt like a lifeline while he shuddered and sobbed into the crook of your neck. To him everything from the rain to silk sheets felt like shrapnel and the stars tasted like old blood and the past of things long gone—yet you were familiar.

A comfort for the much needed healing of the scattered pieces of a man. You don’t mind helping him pick up the tidbits and reattach them with veins of silver. It’s the least you can do.

The second time occurred after the loss of Steve. Some part of you had been wrenched out with his departure and he never bothered to return it. It doesn’t matter anymore—the hollow ache had been soothed with the Winter Soldier clutching you to his chest until you drifted off into a fitful sleep. A tether to a new reality you both partake in.

Which brings you to now. There’s no cathartic reasoning behind his touch…it’s simple…a risky leap of faith into unknown territory. Bucky’s eyes lift to meet yours—curiosity swimming in those icy irises. You don’t mind—in fact you quite like the calloused warmth of his hand and the opposing chilly metal one tentatively exploring your exposed skin.

“You have a scar here,” Bucky murmurs, skimming the thumb made up of flesh and sinew over the mottled skin occupying the crease of where the top of your foot meets your ankle.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I fell on barbed wire.”

“Clumsy,” he chides, quirking a dark brow.

Your shoulders bounce with a huff. “I was like—twelve when it happened, James.”

His mouth quirks in a half smile, quite liking the validation of his name in the way your mouth speaks it. He wonders if you know the weight of granting you that leeway of calling him that. Shit—he doesn’t care what you call him, everything sounds lovely when you say it.

There’s another silence—holding your breath until something splits and shatters into a million pieces. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want anything more than just friendship with Bucky but fear of rejection is a tricky thing. You take the easy way out and offer him the chance of something more on a silver platter.

“Bucky?”

His fingers whisper up your shin as he inclines his head.

“I’m tired. Drive me back to Sam’s?”

“Sure thing, doll.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bucky holds the door open for you as you stumble in, escaping the hazy southern heat. He disappears into the kitchen as you make a beeline straight for the couch, sighing loudly once the plush cushions meet your back. You lazily lift your head once you hear his familiar footfalls nearing.

With him he brings two Otterpops, one blue raspberry and the other cherry. Once he hands it to you he takes a seat on your left, close enough that his thigh and shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t tell Sarah’s kids that these were the last ones.”

You roll your eyes and promptly stick the Otterpop into you mouth. “‘M ain’t no snitch.”

His low chuckle reverberates through his chest. The silence that follows isn’t an awkward one as you enjoy the cold treat—it’s filled with the humming cicada bugs outside and the breeze through the wind chimes. Comfortable with the normalcy—just a couple of regular old people enjoying life for a suspended amount of seconds.

Once you finish the Otter Pop, you crumple the plastic up and rest it on the coffee table. He does the same—hints of the blue syrup sticking to the cracks of his plush lips. You force yourself to avert your eyes. You cheeks heat with a flush as you rush to occupy your mind with anything but wild fantasies of Bucky’s mouth. You lean forward again, pointedly ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes track your movements as you shuck off your sling, the prickle of unused muscles and bruised ligaments rushing through the limb. You wince as you slowly roll your shoulder.

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw clenches. You sigh—he’s still blaming himself for your injuries. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not everyone has freaky healing powers, Buck,” you snort. You rush to appease him when he frowns. “It’s getting better though. Still can’t sleep on it—but eh.”

“I’m sorry.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. No matter how many times you tell him he’ll never believe you. That’s something only he can fix. Doesn’t stop you from telling him anyway. “Stop blaming yourself for my idiocy. I made my choice and paid the price for it.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to his hands. “Can’t help it, sweetheart. Steve told me to look after you.”

Your heart constricts within your chest like a fist. You inhale and reach out to rest your hand over his wrist. “Funny—he told me the same thing about you.”

It surprises him—his dark brows furrow as his mouth parts, but nothing comes forth. Grappling with the right words that fit with what he feels. He’s still learning how to give his soul a name that fits. Learning how to take the dark, twisted bramble of his heart and make it into something that doesn’t ache each time it beats. He’s still learning how to look himself in the eyes, point to himself and say that there’s nothing frightening in there. Not anymore. No more.

You suck in a breath and muster up the embers of courage. Here goes nothing—

You cup Bucky’s cheek, the scrape of stubble welcome against your warm palm as you gently turn his face to look at you. His eyes drift to yours when the mumbled syllables of his name tumble from your lips. His eyes are framed with dark circles of wildflower bruises, his small smile a moonbeam stark against battered skin. You’ve dreamt so many times of swallowing it whole and pressing him close enough that your heartstrings become entangled with no hope of separation. But that’s something for him to decide.

You drop your hand cradling Bucky’s jaw, but before your hand completely falls Bucky surges forward. His large hands rush to cup your face, swallowing your noise of surprise as his plush lips fall onto yours. The syrupy flavor of a Blue Raspberry Otter Pop he stole from Sarah’s freezer lingers on Bucky’s mouth, mixed in with the smell of old leather and cracked cardamom. Bucky nips at your bottom lip, tugging once and then rolling it between the blunt enamel of his teeth. Despite all the bad jokes regarding his age and senior citizen status—fuck he’s a damn good kisser. Compared to him you feel clumsy, sloppy, but no matter how hard you search for his distaste he doesn't seem to care in the slightest—if anything he’s pulling you closer.

Bucky’s kisses may taste like the middle of June and a first love, but desperation lines every action like a wound with jagged edges. It’s a slow process learning to be free, but one day he’ll transform into starlight—and instead of a kiss like fire, it’ll be like touching your lips to a constellation’s aureate mouth.

When Bucky pulls away, sucking in air and resting his forehead on yours, you catch a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed and smelling a bit like Sam’s shampoo. Your lips quirk. You’ll make sure to keep that a secret from Sam.

You pull back just enough to meet his eye, resting your palm over his vibranium hand that still cups your cheek. “Am I the first person you’ve kissed since the stone ages?”

His lips pull into a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, skating your palm down the front of his shirt, the heat of his skin near searing through the fabric. “I guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”

Bucky’s lips smother your small moan as he drags you into another kiss. You can feel his smile as he murmurs his agreement between desperate kisses and the enticing warmth of his tongue skimming along yours. The next time you part for air, Bucky drops his strong hands from your face to instead wrap them around the curve of your hips. He tugs you over his right thigh with ease and breathes a gentle sigh of your name, beginning to pepper kisses over you cheek and down the slope of your jaw.

Bucky reaches your ear and carefully nibbles the cartilage, his voice a warm scrape in your ear. “I want you.”

It’s such a simple phrase…and yet…it tears through you and pools like a heavy weight right to your center. “Then take me.”

Quick as a strike of a match, you’re tipped backwards, cradled right between the arm of the couch and the back of it. Heat rushes through each limb and gathers in your cheeks as Bucky’s vibranium fingers skate up your chest and curl around the column of your throat—that hardened soldier he’s tried to bury bleeding through the cracks of his resolve. You don’t care. You gasp into his mouth as he squeezes ever so slightly while he pushes a firm thigh between your legs. Shit—this is how you’re gonna die—grinding on Bucky’s muscled leg while he’s got a hand around your throat.

What a way to go.

With his other hand he grips the meat of your thigh and pulls you higher, grinding the rough material of his jeans covering his crotch into yours. You whine and arch into him. You need more.

You both stay here for a good while up until it feels like you’re ready to burst at the seems if you don’t have him now. Bucky is no better—cheeks flushed as he fumbles with the zipper to relieve the noticeable bulge straining against it. Impatient and needy, you shoo away his hands and do it yourself, easily sliding your warm hand down his navel and over his boxers to palm at his cock. Bucky’s hand twitches around your neck, a sweet groan filling the air when you softly squeeze him through the elastic.

“Fuck, you’re gonna…” Bucky trails off and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. “Gonna make me cum in my pants if you don’t—don’t stop.”

While the thought is tempting, you want this to last just a little bit longer. Rush after the glorious high of just being near him, his kisses, everything about him. Bucky grunts at the loss of your hand and mouths a wet trail of sloppy kisses up your neck and returns to your lips. When you part he sweeps a stray strand of hair and tucks it behind your ear. He smiles softly.

“Can I try something?” He breaths. Before he can even tell you what his idea is, you’re happily nodding along. “Wanna taste you. Been thinking about it ever since Wakanda.”

Oof. His words shoot straight your center. “Bucky—why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

His mouth quirks. “You make me nervous.”

Rolling your eyes you plant a kiss on his forehead and grant him his simple desire. Bucky sits and slides to the floor, close enough that he’s still able to hover over you. You lift your hips as Bucky tugs your shorts and underwear down and off your legs. Besides the general anxieties of being half naked in front of an incredibly attractive man and performing something so sinful on a friend’s couch—there’s a strange stroke of pride that alights through each of your vertebrae. A powerful man willingly dropping to his knees to please you.

Bucky shoots you a smile and slides his hands around your ribcage, bends forward slightly and captures you mouth in a deep kiss. He parts and nips down your jaw and over your throat, sliding his tongue over the marks he leaves with his teeth as if to soothe the slight sting. You whine and arch into him as he slides lower, leaving an obvious trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake until he reaches the collar of your shirt. Bucky moves his palms under the fabric to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples that peak through your bra. You suck in a shaky breath when Bucky catches the pebbled bud between his forefinger and thumb, the hard vibranium of his fingers scraping over it. A low hum rumbles through his chest as he leans forward to playfully nip at your collarbone.

“I wanna see you naked.” Bucky admits as he slips his hands out of your shirt. You shiver as those chilly metal fingers gently come to rest on the outside of your bare thighs.

“Not here, Buck,” you sigh. “T-they—fuck—they can come back any minute.”

Bucky quirks a brow, eyes dropping between your legs, then back up with a smirk. His plush lips part, yet before he can disprove your silly point—that your bare ass is already out and taking off the shirt would barely make a difference—you interject.

“Shut up.”

His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. “You have such a way with words, y’know that?”

You make a noise low in your throat and reach out to sharply tug his ear. He easily bats your hand aside, hooks his hands under your ass and hauls until you’re all but hanging over the edge of the cushions. You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core as Bucky lowers himself and wedges his shoulder between your thighs. He slides his hand over your calfs and wrestles them over his broad shoulders—earning a perfect view of your pussy. You’re already wet—worked up and running on borrowed time. You roll your head back onto the back of the couch and clench your jaw. You don’t want to rush him but Christ—you really don’t want Sam or Sarah to find you like this.

It feels like ages before Bucky’s lips touch your belly and then your navel with his warm tongue. With a grunt he shoves your shirt up to your breasts and circles your bellybutton with the tip of his tongue—his enhanced strength easily pinning you down as you jerk and giggle.

Bucky picks up his head and grins. “Try and hold still, doll.”

No sharp retort comes to mind. Fuck—he’s already got you so expertly wrapped around his finger.

Bucky hums, satisfied with your weak nod and continues on.

Bucky’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver that rushes through your body. They tickle towards the apex of your thighs and settle close enough to reach your aching center. He pauses for a moment and while you know he’s there, you curse when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They gently work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction as your body adjusts to the feel of flash and vibranium. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch.

Unsatisfied with simply touching you, Bucky shifts his weight to better reach your core. “Fuck—you’re so pretty.”

There's a moment just before Bucky swoops down, face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, warm breath fan across you inner thighs. Anticipation grips your heart with an iron hold, and then— Bucky licks a broad stripe from the base of your cunt all the way up to your swollen clit. His mouth is molten, tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his hair. Bucky grunts against you as you drag him closer by the short strands—greedy for any and all touch he gifts you. Bucky’s mouth slips around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as a quiet moan wrenches free from your vocal cords.

He trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your soaking entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your cunt, skips over it completely to catch the wetness before it leaks over the couch. Bucky opens his mouth wide and groans in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. Desperation lingers on his tongue and all you are is the honey sweet taste of salvation.

“Shit—Bucky,” you cry, throwing your hips forward in search of more friction.

It's perfect. So fucking delicious.

You tense as the vibranium tips of his fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the clenching ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The chilly digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. With a self-satisfied grin, Bucky thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that makes everything ache with desire. It leaves you just hovering over the sharp edge of ecstasy, the catch of his knuckles and imperceptible metal plating dragging along your walls pure torture. Fuck—he’s going to be the death of you—

Bucky’s mouth dips down a second time and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. You're flying off that edge, faster than a fucking freight train. You cum onto his tongue and fingers with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Bucky continues to lick you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Supernovas implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jet fuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Bucky murmur his praise—feeling the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue.

Your brain swims in hazy bliss as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it damn near hurts. You're too sensitive. Nerves rubbed raw and still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. Bucky is all too happy to remain between your legs—takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his hot tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a vibranium razor against bare flesh. Your thighs shake around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves. You cry out as an orgasm floods through you veins, rupturing each cell in your being with molten pleasure. Your core pulses around Bucky’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease to a fading throb. You whine and push at his forehead because he's still going. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick.

“Feel good?” Bucky purrs, resting his cheek on your thigh.

If judging by the way you thighs still quiver and your chest heaves—then yeah—it felt good.

Cheeky bastard.

“Get up here—“

You grapple with his shirt, fisting the thin fabric, but he’s heavy and your entire body feels like jello. Your grip strength is all but laughable at the moment as Bucky clambers back onto the couch and grabs both of your legs, slotting his narrow hips between them. One leg is stuck against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, foot skimming the hardwood floor to accommodate Bucky. Not the most comfortable but fuck it—who cares.

Bucky grunts when you lift your hands and hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them halfway down his legs with a sharp yank. Already a dark patch of wetness stains the fabric of his boxers, the impressive bulge straining against the elastic and begging to be released. Your eyes meet his icy blue ones as you slowly pull his boxers over his cock. It bounces up towards his navel, thick and beautiful just like the rest of him.

Impatient, Bucky’s fingers curl around your wrist and presses your open palm against his cock. He’s thick and heavy in your hand—perfect. The bead of precum that pools at his flushed tip smears against the inside of your palm as you experimentally roll your wrist, fascinated with the feel of his foreskin rolling over the steel heard flesh with each stroke.You give his a cock a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears.

A sharp hiss of hair passes through his clenched teeth as you lightly tug on his cock. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the throbbing flesh, flushed and pulsing and all for you. His cock bobs when you let go—he huffs out a disappointed noise. “I need you, Buck—please.”

Your previous two orgasms did seemingly nothing to soothe the growing ache for him. It prickles up your spine and singes through every nerve and bone—you whine and arch your hips, trying to touch your slick cunt to his cock. Bucky growls your name and pins your hips to the couch with ease.

With his left hand, Bucky firmly grips your jaw, his stare folding into something serious. “You sure?”

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip. You grin. “Do your worst.”

Bucky curses and readjusts your calf slung over his hip and grips the base of his cock. You shudder as he runs the blunt head through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and arch. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s certainly not small in any way shape or form. You’ll feel him for days afterwards as your cunt swallows inch after inch.

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw clenched tight as sweat beads at his hairline. Shit—he’s gorgeous—struggling not to loose control the moment he’s buried inside of you. You allow yourself to adjust for a moment but your own impatience rakes down your spine with claws of scorching arousal. You rock your hips in curiosity and squeeze around him.

“Fuck—“ A ragged moans severs his words as your gentle rocking tilts into abrasive jolts. At this angle it’s difficult to fuck yourself onto his cock, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. His left hand shoots to your throat, the chilly metal a stark contrast to your flushed skin. You dip your head back, exposing more of your supple skin—all his for the taking.

You dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back and grab at his shoulders—tempting him into fucking you already. You’ve waited long enough. Bucky snarls your name, hooks one hand under your ass and pulls his cock nearly all the way, out only to slam back in with devastating force. There’s no time to adjust or gather your obliterated thoughts before Bucky sets a pace, desperate and feral. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what seems like a millennia—and maybe it has been. Bucky shifts, widening his knees as much as he can to sink lower onto your body—his soft hair tickles your cheek as his choppy exhales burn hot over your skin.

Bucky turns his head to steal a kiss, open mouthed and catastrophic. No words are exchanged as he fucks into you with brutal strength aided by that damn super-soldier serum—there’s no need for them, not now anyway. You complete each other without the spoken utterances—still both a work in progress. Though most things are you suppose—constantly remaking yourselves, but instead of smashing the haphazard pieces back together alone—you have one another. You bury your hand in his hair and cry his name.

You choke out another groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter and damn—you really hope nothing gets on this stupid couch. You don’t want to explain that Sam.

Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, blazing through each and every vein with the brilliance of a wildfire escaping the edges of the forest. This is gonna ruin you. Bucky’s hand reaches between your bodies and rubs tight, controlled circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a calamitous surge of warmth that sweeps your very soul off its feet. Your nails dig into Bucky's back as you shake and fumble for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor.

You have no time to recover because he’s still going. Thrusting into your pussy with violent slaps that echo through the room and will more than likely leave bruises against your ass. Through the pressure of his hand over your windpipe—threatening to cut your air off completely—you garble out his name. Bucky drops his head to his chin, the weight of his gaze landing between your legs, watching the way his entire length disappears inside of you. When he raises his head he molds his mouth to yours. The soft, wet kisses rapidly morph into pricks of his teeth, his gravelly moans so pleasing to hear.

You arch and tilt your head back as he presses you harder into the couch. The vibranium hand latched onto your jaw, works it open and slides a thumb past your plush lips. You lave your tongue over the digit—the metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. “Good girl—m’close. A little longer.”

Bucky’s panting breaths mingle with yours as his pace turns vicious. Chasing his high that he so desperately needs. Overstimulation bites at your nerves, but with a gentle tug to the soft strands of hair on the back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, Bucky bursts. His moan jumps up an octave, eyes slamming shut as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he cums. He’s shuddering in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You whine and tilt your hips up to prevent it from spilling onto the couch.

Finally he slows to a stop, ragged breathing filling the air as the heat and weight of his body becomes a welcome comfort. Eventually that warmth grows stifling. He lazily pulls away, observing gaze drinking in each inch of bare skin exposed—the marks and the light sheen of sweat. You hiss as he curiously drags his thumb over the bite mark lingering just above your collarbone.

He parts his plush lips but before he can apologize, you interject. “Don’t—I like the reminder.”

Bucky shakes his head and drops down to tempt your lips into a lazy dance. “You’re a weirdo.”

You smile and cup his cheek. “I’m not the one with a staring problem. You know that you can’t kill people by glaring, right?”

Bucky kisses your cheek, your jaw, and then the dip of your throat. “You don’t ever shut up, do you?”

You shudder as his softening cock twitches inside of you, another coal of desire flaring in the pit of your stomach. You flash him a coquettish grin. “Maybe if you give my mouth something to do, you’ll finally get some peace and quiet.”

Something dark and dangerous flickers within those eyes. You shiver as one hand returns to your throat while the other draws teasing patterns over the outside of your thigh. He draws in close, nips at the shell of your ear and chuckles darkly. “You’re on.”

#weLL here we are in a marvel hole kwejrkwejhr #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem!reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws #the avengers x reader #my writing

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justkending · 4 years ago

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The Number One Rule. Chapter 18.

Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 3100+

Chapter Eighteen:

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Steve chuckled, bringing his mug to his lips as his sister walked in with a sleep ridden face. She gave him the silent bird before moving to the coffee pot. “I see your morning self hasn’t changed.”

“What are you still doing here? I thought you would have left for work by now?” Y/N asked with a tired voice as she walked to the fridge for creamer.

He had ended up staying the night and sleeping in his old room that had been transferred into the guest bed. Him and his sister had been up late talking and catching up.

“Eh, I’m going in a few hours later since I’ve been doing overtime recently,” Steve shrugged, leaning back and watching her sit across from him. She was wearing a giant T-shirt and some old pajama pants that she tiredly tried to straighten from their disheveled state. “What’s your excuse for not being ready for work?”

“I don’t have to be there until 9 today,” she answered with her eyes closed.

There was a comfortable silence as the two sipped on their coffee and Steve read the newspaper. Looking over he saw her practically falling back asleep in her seat.

“I guess I need to talk to Bucky soon…” He spoke up. Her eyes opened at that and she turned to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean now that I know the case, and now that I know you’re both happy, I don’t have a right to be a jackass anymore I guess,” he shrugged with a smirk.

“I’m glad you came to terms that you were a jackass,” she chuckled, punching his arm playfully. “We’ve been waiting a few years on that one.”

“Hey, I can call myself a jackass, but you watch yourself,” he warned in a light manner.

“Sure thing… Jackass,” she mumbled with a smile. Before he could start an argument, she diverted the conversation. “So, should I warn him, or-?”

“I don’t care. We have different shifts today, so I’ll see him tonight probably and talk to him.”

“Ok, then I’ll let you do the talking. I would warn him yourself though. He’s been a nervous wreck around this topic with you. Anytime he thinks about how we’ve hurt you, he gets upset and really anxious,” she explained more seriously.

“I mean, I don’t blame him. This was a shitty kind of situation to go through, but mom was right. Neither side of the problem was handled well,” Steve sighed. “I’ll text him before.”

“Good,” Y/N nodded. “Want me to come?”

“No, I think we need to talk ourselves,” Steve sighed. “If you know what I mean.”

“I get it,” she nodded standing and grabbing her mug. “Well, I’m going to get ready for work. Mind if I come over tonight though? You know, when the coast is clear? Maybe we can all have a movie night like back in the day! Becca and Sam are invited too,” she pointed to him.

“Sounds like a plan. You’re paying for pizza though. Since you have an adult job now, it’s only fair,” Steve said with raised eyebrows.

“Hey, I-”

“You owe me,” he cut her off.

She glared at him for using the given past situation as a way to get free food.

“That’s low, big bro,” she deadpanned.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” he scoffed with a smile, going back to the paper in front of him.

“Touche,” she nodded with a pursed lip. “At least text me when I can head over, so I don’t interrupt you guys' bromance session.”

“Shut up,” he groaned as she left the room.

________

Once Y/N got to work, a few hours into her shift, she got a call from Bucky.

“Hey, B,” she smiled through the phone as she went through the loads of papers in her hands.

“Hey sweetheart,” Bucky replied just as sweetly. “Guess who texted me today?”

“Hmm, Barack Obama?” Y/N responded. “Wait, no! Michelle Obama.”

“Haha, very close, but no,” he chuckled. “You’re brother reached out.”

“Is that so?” Y/N faked surprise.

“I’m guessing you guys' conversation last night went well considering your chipper mood?” he questioned. “Or they went horribly wrong and you’re just a really good actress.”

“We all know I can’t act even if my life depended on it,” she laughed, changing the phone to her other ear as she wrote some notes on a paper.

“It’s true. You’re a horrible liar,” Bucky confirmed.

“I’m not even going to argue it no matter how much I want to,” she shrugged. “But I would say things went well. I mean we may or may not have gotten into a wrestling match on the front lawn, and mom might as well have dragged us by the ears inside to have a civil conversation, but besides that…”

“Oh God, Y/N… What the hell happened?”

She just knew he was pitching the bridge of his nose on the other end.

“Nothing too crazy. It’s just sibling fighting,” she waved off.

“At least tell me you gave him a chance. You didn’t beat his ass too much, hopefully. You know we’re trying to win him over, not push him further away, right?” Bucky had a smile in his voice, clearly just joking around.

“You know? Kids’ gotten stronger since middle school,” she noted.

“I would hope so. He fought in a war and chases bad guys for a living. Can’t have scrawny middle school Steve doing that kind of stuff. He’d get a nose bleed just looking at the wrong guy.”

The two laughed for a little reminiscing at little Steve before he bulked up in high school. But after some joking, Bucky brought the conversation back where he started.

“But in all honesty, I shouldn’t be too worried about tonight?” he asked. The nerves in his voice were clear to Y/N.

“No, Bumble Bee. We talked it out, screamed it out, and fought it out. And in doing so, we had a good conversation. Thank Sarah Rogers for keeping us on track and not letting us walk away until it was resolved,” she assured, putting his mind at rest.

“Ok, good…” Bucky sighed on the other end. A moment of silence went by as if he was trying to process it.

“Hey, I know you guys still need to talk, but I do want you to know that it’ll be all ok in the end. Don’t get too worked up about it,” Y/N said softly. “26 years of being best pals can’t be ruined by this little bump. You said it yourself.”

Bucky let out a breath and nodded. “You’re right. It… It’s just, I hate that he found out how he did, and…” he paused. “It just kinda sucked seeing him that upset.”

“I get it,” Y/N nodded on her end. “But hey,” she added. “We’ll all be ok. Truly.”

“I trust you, doll,” he grinned. There was some distant talking on the phone and Bucky humming. “Hey, I have to go. Boss needs me for something. Call you later?”

“For sure. Have a good day, and let me know if you need anything!”

“Right back at you. Love you, sweetheart,” he slipped out the last part unconsciously.��

There was a moment of silence as the two were stunned. Neither had said the “L” word yet… At least not to each other…

“Uh,” Bucky stuttered out. “I-I-...”

“Buck-,” Y/N started in just as much shock.

Another round of someone shouting on the other line that wasn’t Bucky came through through the phone.

“I have to go! Talk to you later,” Bucky shouted into the phone.

Before she could say anything else, the line ended and she slowly pulled back the phone seeing her lock screen blank. No words came out after that.

She just stared at the screen where a picture of her Bucky, Becca, and Steve all were embedded in a bear hug together. An old picture, but one that she always loved and cherished with a group of her favorite humans.

She also loved it because even though it was before Bucky and her had become an item, they were squished against each other. Bucky was smiling wide and caught in a laugh as he looked down at her, catching her from stumbling to the ground, and she was laughing as she gripped his arm to find her balance. Steve and Becca laughing on the side at her clumsy self, and the fact someone was always having to help her stay on two feet. Bucky having always been one of those top people in her life.

She smiled down at the memory and couldn’t help but feel those little flutters move from her stomach to her chest and eventually make her cheeks heat up.

_________________

Now he had two things to freak out about. One being Steve and his talk tonight. Yes, he knew he didn’t really need to after Y/N’s reassurance that things would be fine, but still. It was a strange conversation to have with your best friend.

“Sorry I fell in love with your sister and hid it from you. My best friend of over a quarter of a decade. Not to mention you found out from me coming out of her room half naked after you thought she was home alone...”

Yeah, that was going to be weird no matter how ok they were now…

Then you add in, he just casually told Y/N that he loved her before hanging up the phone. He didn’t mean to. It just felt so natural in the moment!

He wanted to make the first time he said it special, not just by accident…

God, his heart was racing and now he had four hours left of his work day to let those things just stir around in his head. Great. Maybe that 3rd cup of coffee wasn’t that great of an idea.

_______________

“So, everything’s good with you guys?” Sam asked after Steve let him in on everything.

“Yeah. I mean Buck and I still need to talk it out, but… I don’t know. I can’t be mad if they’re both happy at the end of the day. Happiest I’ve seen either of them in a while, if I’m being honest,” Steve shrugged with a small smile.

“See, I knew that’d be the case at the end of the day. I tried telling Bucky that,” Sam shook his head as he finished up the dishes. “And sorry man about not saying anything. I didn’t think it was my place to,” he apologized.

“No, I get it. This was their own thing. You were just being a good friend to Bucky and letting him figure this out himself,” Steve waved.

“He’ll be home in a little. You worried?” Sam asked, washing his hands off.

“No, if anyone’s nervous it’ll be Bucky. Y/N and I had a really good talk last night. No matter how upset I was before, I now know where they were coming from,” Steve sighed. “Did I agree with it? No, but we all have different ways we would go about things.”

“True facts,” Sam smiled. “Well, I’ll hoard myself in my room for a while until the coast is clear. Let me know if you guys need anything, ok?”

“Got it. Oh, and Y/N said she was going to come over after with pizza for a movie night, if you want to join,” Steve pointed out moving to the couch.

“I’m here for it,” Sam nodded, going down the hall to his room. “Call me when all is resolved.”

Steve nodded and plopped down on the couch skimming through the channels as he waited for Bucky. About 15 minutes later, he heard the lock turn and quietly the brunette made his way in with caution.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, turning from the end of the couch.

“Hey,” Bucky said with a soft smile as he put his things by the door.

These were the first words they had spoken in over 2 weeks. They hadn’t talked since the whole fight in the backyard.

“How was work?” Steve asked, making small talk.

“Nothing too crazy today,” Bucky shrugged, walking to the back of the couch with his hands in his pockets. “Oh, Lillian asked about you again.”

“From accounting?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Only Lillian I know that’s obsessed with you,” Bucky laughed lightly.

“God, I’m not ready for that…” Steve returned the chuckle.

It got quiet after that. Not awkward, but not comfortable either.

“So…”

“Listen, Bucky,” Steve sitting back in his chair running a hand across his face. “I’m sorry, I punched you after-”

“Don’t be. I deserved it,” Bucky waved him off, coming around the couch slowly to sit on the opposite end.

“Ok, yeah. You’re right,” Steve nodded with another small laugh. Again another pregnant pause. “I gotta know. Why didn’t you just tell me, Buck?”

He took in a deep breath before answering. “I’m sure Y/N told you, but we didn’t want things to have a bad falling out and it be awkward for everyone else-.”

“No, not that. Why didn’t you tell me that you weren’t going to do it from the start?” Steve interrupted.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Y/N said that you guys went back and forth on not going through with this because you didn’t want to hurt me. I mean, maybe that’s not that big of a deal, but it changes things on my end some,” Steve explained. Bucky just sent him a blank stare. “What I mean is, when I first figured everything out, I was hurt because I thought you didn’t even consider me in your decisions. I know, it sounds selfish, but-”

“No, it doesn’t. You’re a part of the equation to some extent. Just like Becca is. But surprisingly Becca was excited and not freaked out about her best friend dating her big brother. It’s a little different being the big brother in the situation though,” he said softly. “It’s not selfish though Steve. If the roles were reversed and say you and Becca dated, I would hope you considered my feelings in the matter too.”

Steve was glad that he understood what he was getting at. He was worried it wouldn’t make sense or make him look like he thought the whole thing revolved around him.

“Yeah…” Steve paused. “But you didn’t say anything about that when we did get in that fight. Why?”

“I don’t know… I guess I just wanted you to understand my feelings for her more than anything. I needed you to know that she wasn’t just some girl I was hoping to hook up with at some point.”

“I know you would never do that Buck. No matter how upset I was, I still don’t think that low of you,” Steve sighed. “And about that… I’m sorry I said you don’t deserve her… That was an extremely hard hit to the gut.”

“You were looking out for her,” Bucky said with pursed lips, but the pain from the past comment was clear. It didn’t feel good having your best friend who's been through thick and thin with you tell you weren’t worth something.

“Yes, but that was a low blow and I said it out of hurt feelings. I was hurt, so I wanted you to be just as hurt. That wasn’t fair,” Steve concluded. “If there is anyone in this world that I trust to take care of Y/N just as much as me, it’s you Buck. I was just blinded by anger.”

“Understandably,” Bucky nodded, looking back at his friend a little less troubled.

“Understandably,” Steve agreed. They stared at each other silently communicating. “I’m sorry.”

“If anyone is sorry, it’s me Steve,” Bucky shook his head running a hand down his thigh still slightly anxious.

“How about we both agree that we didn’t handle this situation the best way,” Steve smiled. “I should have seen how happy you two were and not second guess how it happened. I shouldn’t have made it about me when you both clearly are what the other needs.”

“Steve-”

“Truly. You guys have been glowing the last two months with complete and utter happiness and I was so oblivious to pick up on it. I feel like a shitty brother and best friend.”

“You’re not a shitty brother or best friend. Not in the least,” Bucky said scooting to the edge of the couch. “You know that.”

“Y/N tell you we got in a fight on the lawn yesterday?” Steve asked with a small smirk.

Bucky chuckled. “Yes. Said your mom about beat your asses out there too.”

“All because I was too stubborn to talk it out,” Steve shook his head while he threw it back on the back of the couch.

“Eh, you said it yourself. We all didn’t handle this situation well,” Bucky chuckled. “She kicked your ass, didn’t she?” he said after a second.

“Wouldn’t say that, but she must have worked out over seas because I couldn’t pin her like I used to. She was giving me a pretty decent fight,” Steve laughed loudly.

“God, I would pay money to have someone get that on tape,” Bucky laughed with him.

The two soaking up the now comfortable atmosphere.

“So we’re ok, right?” Steve asked. “Leave all out petty, stubborn, and stupid mistakes in the past?”

“I’m fine with that if you are,” Bucky nodded.

“Good. I’ve missed having my best friend around. I was getting tired of ignoring you,” Steve sighed, patting Bucky’s back.

“You gave me good practice with your stubbornness for Y/N. Not that I haven’t been practicing with you both my whole life, but damn you guys are too bull-headed monsters.”

“We feed off each other's energy,” Steve shrugged with a smirk.

“I know, it’s exhausting, yet entertaining all at the same time,” Bucky smiled as he moved his head side to side.

A knock sounded at the door and they both turned toward the wooden panel.

“Speaking of the devil,” Steve smiled standing up.

Bucky froze.

Shit. One anxiety had been cured now, but he had almost forgotten about his second one...

(Tags for this series will be closing soon as it is getting pretty full, please send an ask if you want to be added:)

I’ll post on whatever chapter I decided to close it down here.

The Number One Rule (TNOR) Taglist:

@shadowolf993 @hello-i-am-daydreaming @jessyballet @emmabarnes @kmuir1 @beautifulrare4leafclover @thefallenbibliophilequote @l0ve-0f-my-life @shawnie--jo–jo @asoftie4bucky @katiaw2 @sheeple @sznri @bxtchboy69 @taliarosej00 @bakugouswh0r3 @stopjustlovethemcu @babemendesxz @jenniereiji @taliarosej00 @loveyou5everr @natdrunk @im-a-light-child @stucky-my-ship @fairykimseok

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness

@bellamy-barnes

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses

#bucky barnes au series #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader au #bucky barnes x reader au series #bucky barnes x y/n rogers #bucky barnes x y/n rogers au #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #justkending #justkending series #justkending marvel #marvel #marvel au #marvel au fanfic

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eirist · 4 years ago

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Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

THE EGG HUNT SHENANIGANS

One-shot #: 25

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot scribble.

Rating: T (Just light flirting stuff)

Note: Light teasing. PWP. And pure insanity I tell you. Just ending my quarantine with another one-shot. Because who knows when I can write and upload one again.

Summary: "Found the bunny."

With a cheerful and dazzling smile, Luffy—the captain of the infamous Straw Hat Pirates—held out his hands to show off the beautifully decorated basket to his crew members.

Sanji cocked an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

"Yes!” Luffy exclaimed. “We're gonna go hunt for eggs!" His already bright smile widened some more at the idea of an adventure.

This time it was Zoro’s turn to raise an eyebrow. "Wearing… that?" His lone eye scrutinized the rabbit costume the rubber man had on.

The younger boy nodded again, head bobbing up and down enthusiastically. “Usopp and Chopper are wearing the same!”

"Yes we are!" Usopp and Chopper yelled proudly, pumping their fists up in the air.

“…”

“What the hell is wrong with this island?" The cook muttered under his breath with a slight shake of his head.

“More like what the hell is wrong with them?” Zoro grunted, folding his arms across his chest as he nudged his head towards the three.

It was one of those rare days when he and the idiot swordsman weren’t snarling insults at each other because there is a more pressing and absurd matter to attend to...

…like Luffy, Usopp and Chopper in bunny suits, holding colorful baskets to join the island’s ‘egg hunt’.

“Fufufu…” Robin laughed softly from her deck chair where she was relaxing. “It’s the island’s tradition. They are celebrating what they call Easter.” She explained as she flipped a page of the book in her hand.

“By looking for eggs?” Zoro inquired with a frown as the three bunnies started singing a song about egg hunting.

“Yes,” Robin nodded. “We just so happen to arrive here right in time for that celebration.”

“Weird.”

“No it’s not!” Usopp retorted looking aggravated at Zoro’s comment. “I recalled visiting an island once where hunting for eggs is considered a manly man’s sport! The one who finds the most wins the title of the most manliest man alive.”

“Suge Usopp!” Chopper gasped.

“That is right,” the sniper crossed his arms over his chest haughtily. “And guess who won the title five years in a row?”

“You, of course.” Both Zoro and Sanji drawled, with the same expression on their faces that clearly says… they’re not buying Usopp’s obviously untrue and exaggerated story.

Robin stifled her giggles behind her hand as Usopp yelled his retorts at the two. Both Luffy and Chopper were looking at him with their eyes sparkling from amazement.

“Whoa you’re awesome Usopp!” Luffy commented.

“You really are strong!” The reindeer gushed.

“I know right!” Usopp answered with an approving grin and a thumbs up.

“But I will defeat you today!” The captain declared. “I will be the one to win the title of the most manliest man alive.”

“And you’d do that…” Sanji said in an almost bored tone. “By finding… a lot of eggs?”

“Yes!”

Sanji sighed as he pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pants.

“And you really need to wear… those costumes to hunt for them?” Zoro asked, still doubtful why they need to be in that.

“Yes!”

“It’s tradition Zoro,” Usopp stated matter-of-factly. “You can’t find the eggs if you’re not in a bunny costume! You’re so ignorant.”

“Temee…”

“Hey! Why don’t you join us too Zoro?” Luffy invited and Zoro almost blanched at that.

Almost.

"Yeah!” Chopper chirped in. “Join us! The more the merrier!"

“Nope. I’m good.” Zoro answered almost instantly. Like hell he would don that stupid costume and then hunt for stupid eggs.

Best to just leave them to their crazy shit.

“Have fun.” He waved them off.

Sanji let out a ‘tch’ before taking a drag from his cigarette. Things seemed to get weirder and weirder these past few days. But somehow the idea that he'll be free of the usual food stock raiders for the day feels too good to pass. "Alright then, run along rabbits. Go scour the island for eggs.”

“We will!” The trio chorused.

Sanji nodded at them. “And don't you dare create any messes for us to clean you hear?"

“Eeeh…” a voice from behind them suddenly said. “Don’t worry about it Sanji-kun."

And just like that the cook immediately swiveled around to face the newcomer.

"Nami-swaaan! Don't you look dazzling in that ensemble, my sweet!" He crooned as his eyes automatically turned to hearts, kneeling down on one knee in front of the navigator.

“Thank you!” Nami beamed at him and winked. The chef instantly fell down the lawn deck in a swoon, blabbering about her beauty. She was wearing an outfit just like the one she had on when they went after him in Whole Cake Island. Only this time the corset skirt is frillier and more colorful as the layers sported different shades of pastel spring palette.

The puffed sleeves of her blouse are pulled down her shoulders, revealing them and she had put on a rabbit ears headband on top of her head.

Zoro glared at the prone figure of the blond before shifting his attention to Nami. “You going with them?”

Nami nodded with a scheming grin. “Heard something about money prizes.”

“Of course you wouldn’t let that pass,” the green-haired man smirked. His lone eye trailed up and down her form as he studied her. “And you're supposed to be what? A rabbit as well?"

"Yes."

He jerked a thumb towards the three doofuses in their onesie costumes. "Why not wear the same as them?"

Nami narrowed her eyes at him as Sanji barked threats from where he was still lying down. Something about shutting his trap if he can’t say something nice to his precious Nami-san.

Zoro ignored him. Even as he started shouting insults that he is being the usual, unfashionable stupid marimo that he is.

"Because that is not cute." The map maker huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

"Looks ok on them." The grin that Zoro send her way was nasty.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder snootily. "Say one more word about what I'm wearing Zoro and I'll make sure your next sentence is, “Please don't charge me”."

"Right. Don't charge me… greedy witch," he said monotonously, deliberately omitting the word please and adding an insult as well.

She gave him the evil eye.

“Now go and run along with your rabbit friends."

"You can kiss your next island allowance goodbye Zoro," Nami said in an overly sweet tone as she smiled evilly. "I'll be splurging them for expensive lingerie later."

"OI!"

"Byeeee!" Nami immediately pranced away from him to escape; pushing Usopp, Luffy and Chopper towards the ship’s ladder so that they could embark. Sanji was automatically back on his feet and on her side to assist her while nose bleeding about lingerie and the orange-haired woman.

"Damn it Nami! You come back here!" Zoro was yelling as he stomped to follow her.

“Have fun!” Robin called out to them, eyes never leaving her book and creating duplicates of her hand at the railing to wave at them.

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

It was around lunch time when Nami entered the crow’s nest. The first thing her eyes landed upon was the figure of a sprawled Zoro, unsurprisingly asleep on the floor.

She approached the thunderously snoring swordsman and nudged his side with her foot.

“Hey,” she prodded him awake. “Hey Zoro, wake up!”

The snoring stopped. And there was a grunt. Then a tiger-like yawn, followed by another grunt.

Nami rolled her eyes at his response. “Zoro!”

“WHAT?!” Zoro answered irritably. He opened his eye and blinked up at her. “Hunt’s done?” He asked groggily before turning to his side so his back was now facing her, not even waiting for her answer.

A frown appeared on her lips. What a rude and lazy ass. She poked him on the back with her feet. He merely grunted again and ignored her.

“They’re still hunting,” she explained, looking down on his prone figure disapprovingly. She doubt if he was listening. Sometimes, you might as well talk to a rock than Roronoa Zoro.

“The game is happening on the whole island,” she continued. “I went back to get reinforcements. So wake up and come with me!”

“Will not. I’d rather sleep.”

Nami settled down on the nest’s floor just behind him. This time she was prodding him with her finger, making sure her nail was digging into his skin.

“Stop that.”

“I will not.”

“Why aren’t you looking as well?” He grumbled petulantly as she continued poking his back.

“That’s what my three rabbits are for! I’m just there to oversee and secure the money prize!”

“You can’t make me join you.”

And Nami leaned forward so her lips were almost touching his ear. “Really?”

“Whatever you’re planning. It won’t work.” He declared smugly, even as he kept his eye closed.

She laughed softly, letting her breath tickle his ear. “You’re no fun.” She shifted closer, bending over so she could drape her body on top of him.

“You know… I’m not planning anything.” She whispered, letting her lips lightly touch his ear. “I’m just here to offer a ten percent deduction to your current… debt amount.” She let her hand slide inside his t-shirt, past his haramaki to caress the well-defined muscles there.

“I already told you that’s not gonna work.” Zoro’s eye was now open and looking at her. A smirk was on his lips. “And I don’t recall borrowing money from you onna.”

“You don’t?” Nami gasped exaggeratedly. “What about that time in Vert Island? You owe me belis for the cottage rent.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed. “Thought that was your treat?”

She mock-pouted. “Oh Zoro. When are you gonna learn that there are no such things as free or treat when it comes to me?”

“You really are a wicked witch.” The green-haired man groused. “And after I made sure you thoroughly enjoyed your stay there.”

Nami snickered. Zoro noticed that the bunny ears on her head actually made her look more mischievous. “Nothing’s free nowadays Zoro,” she pointed out. “Favor for a favor. I pay; you work your ass off.”

He snorted. “Next time, I’m just lying down and letting you do all the work. Whether you pay or not.”

She threw back her head and laughed again. “Do the hunt and maybe I’ll humor you.” She bent over and placed teasing kisses along his jaw and neck.

“In your dreams.” He sneered and she felt his arm snaked around her, his hand squeezed the back of her thigh before it slid up to do the same on one plump cheek of her behind.

That made her bite her lip even as she complained. “Tch! You’re a hard man to bargain with.”

A shark-like grin appeared on Zoro’s face. “Yeah.” He playfully slapped her ass before giving it another squeeze. “Offer a better deal Nami.” He said teasingly against her ear this time before nipping at the skin below it as his hand continued caressing her backside.

“Mmm… well what do you—”

“WHAT THE HELL?”

They simultaneously turned their heads towards the voice.

Sanji was gaping at them from the nest’s entrance… his eyes wide as saucers. His face was so red. As red as the blood dripping down his nose as he took in the image of Nami's perfectly shaped-derriere and her lacy thong as her ridiculously short skirt and position put them on display….

… along with the shitty swordsman’s hand on it.

Silence reigned for a moment. Then…

“TAKE YOU GODDAMNED HANDS OFF HER AHO KENSHIN!”

“TAKE YOUR GODDAMNED EYES OFF HER ASS ERO COOK!”

“Temee…”

Both men growled the word at the same time as Nami disentangled herself from Zoro. She wasn’t even embarrassed at being caught. They weren’t actually keeping it from the crew after all.

But of course it would be better if Sanji was the last one to know.

Nami sighed heavily as she watched the two throwing death glares at each other.

It's the beginning of chaos.

The two attacked each other almost immediately. Sanji had leapt inside the crow’s nest, flaming legs and all as Zoro avoided him and made a grab for his swords.

And manage to hit the cook straight in the face with the sheathed end of his red katana.

Her mouth fell open as the Sanji collapsed down the steel floor. But she knew of course this was far from over.

In one swift move a grinning Zoro carted her towards the nest’s entrance. He enjoyed that, she knew. In a matter of seconds they were down the metal ladder while Sanji recovered, fumed and yelled expletives at his rival.

Using one arm to hold on to the ladder’s rung as his other was wrapped around her waist, Zoro swung slightly for leverage.

Nami’s eyes widened when she realized what he’s about to do.

“Zoro! NOOOOO!!!”

She screamed bloody murder when he let go and made the high jump down onto the Sunny’s deck.

Nami’s heart leaped to her throat. That was probably the reason why her scream stopped coming out of her mouth. Halfway down the long drop she could swear she felt her soul left her as her mind went blank.

She's going to kill Zoro! Mark her words!

Somewhere above Sanji was still yelling threats and curses.

The swordsman landed on the deck as if it was just a natural thing to do.

Oh dear heavens. Roronoa Zoro will be paying for this stupid stunt of his for the rest of his life until his next and next and next!

“Zorooo!” Luffy greeted when he spotted the former pirate hunter on the deck. “Heey!” He bounded towards him, showing his now-filled with eggs basket. Chopper and Usopp were nowhere to be seen as the three most likely got separated. “Look, look I found a lot! Shishishi! I can’t wait to show it to Usopp. Whatcha got there?” He peered at the figure tucked under Zoro’s arm.

"Found the bunny." Zoro answered nonchalantly.

"Oh that’s great! Shishishi!" Luffy chortled. He peered down again at the navigator who is still hanging motionlessly on Zoro's arm.

"Ne, Zoro?"

"Huh?”

"Uhm... the bunny looks mad.”

"..."

“THUNDERBOLT TEMPO!”

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona one-shots #zoro nami fanfiction #zona fanfiction #roronoa zoro #nami

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pixieungerstories · 3 years ago

Text

Quarantine -3

It would have been nice to have something other than the word of a shadow to go on. I stared at the ceiling. I wished I had a cat or a dog or - hell - a pet hamster. Some other living thing in the house. I had no idea what Nick was but I wasn’t entirely sure he counted as a living thing.

“Humans who don’t sleep start to hallucinate,” I muttered to myself. Maybe if I actually got some shut eye, I would wake up and this would all be a dream. “Fuck it.” I got undressed and crawled under the covers. I settled under the covers, then realized I was facing the closet, so I rolled over. Having the door in my blind spot wasn’t necessarily better.

“Nick?” I wasn’t really expecting an answer. “Can you move the bed to another room?”

“I can. I don’t want to. I like having you where I can see you.”

I nodded. “I’ll go sit in the kitchen until dawn.”

“Go! To! Sleep!”

I jumped then started to shake. “Yelling at me isn’t going to help me sleep,” I muttered.

The bedroom door slammed shut. Rattling the door knob and pulling as hard as I could didn’t make it budge. “Please don’t do this,” I whimpered, then I screamed as something brushed my face.

The door opened suddenly enough that I unbalanced and fell on my ass, but a moment later I was running down the stairs and out the front door. I was at the gate before I knew what I was doing.

The cops were still right there.

“You need to go back inside ma’am!” the closest one called. After that they were all looking at me.

I paced for a moment, uncomfortably aware how odd I was behaving. I needed to get out of here. I needed a smoke. I needed to stop acting weird before they decided I had killed my neighbours.

Oh god. I was trapped in a house with a creature that probably killed the looters.

I didn’t want to face the idea that Nick was a killer.

“Ma’am! Go inside!”

“I saw what happened on the news,” I explained. “It’s giving me nightmares and I’ve been stuck in that house for more than a month. I wasn’t expecting to be quarantined in a construction site.”

“Be that as it may, you need to go back inside,” the patrolman called.

“I’m more than six feet away from you. Can’t I just stay out here near some other people and the street lights? Please?”

“You aren’t exactly dressed for the weather,” he pointed out.

I crossed my arms over my chest as I realized I was standing on my lawn in my night dress. I should go in and at least get my robe. It was in the room with Nick’s closet.

I thought about just confessing to something so that I could go with them. Prison wouldn’t have Nick. Maybe I just needed a hospital. No. That was a death sentence these days.

He was driving me off. He had flat out told me that he was good at that.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“No!” I snapped. “I’m scared.”

He gave me a pitying look but still insisted, “You need to go inside now. You will be safe in your house.”

I snorted, and swatted at the bugs that had found me.

“Go inside,” he said gently. “The last thing you need is to catch something from the mosquitos.”

I nodded slowly and headed back in to sit in the kitchen. Maybe he would let me make a pot of coffee. When I got inside the lights in the kitchen was on and the bed was set up on the main floor.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome. This is temporary. You will sleep upstairs when the walls are repaired.

The next morning I got a phone call ordering me out into the garden as a forklift delivered a load of drywall. It was left in the middle of the floor next to my bed. I looked at it. Nick’s voice was too close to my ear, “Someone will come hang in tomorrow.”

“How did you pay for this?”

“You have an excellent credit rating and you aren’t spending much of your money.”

“Great. Did they say how long it would take?”

There was no answer to that.

“I guess drywallers wear masks all the time anyway,” I mused. “At least there will be some other people around.”

“Yes.”

I didn’t have walls the next day. In fact things were worse as the last of the lath and plaster was taken down. They found hundreds of razor blades in the wall in the bathroom. The construction guys assured me that it was normal to find all kinds of weird things in the walls of old houses, but they still looked uncomfortable that it was razor blades and that some of them were more bloody than you would expect from a mere shaving accident. I spent the night picking them up with tweezers and dropping them into a jar for safe disposal. Nick didn’t say a word and the lights stayed on that night.

One half the team turned up the next day. No one commented on why that was.

I ordered a hammock and a grill for the backyard. I got the hammock but someone had changed the grill to a chiminea when I wasn’t looking. It was nice, but I couldn’t cook on it. My order had also been edited to include a bunch of bug repellant candles and some sunscreen. I tried to figure out if that was something a shadow creature would actually do or was this another sign that I was losing my mind.

Either way, I worked on the concrete table out back at the very limit of the wifi during the day and concentrated on fixing up the yard after official work hours.

One of the drywallers sold me a patio umbrella.

I also got the lecture that just because the walls were up didn’t mean that it was safe to use the shower.

“You still have to get a membrane installed and your tiles up and sealed,” the guy explained.

I nodded, “You don’t happen to know a tile guy that is still working?”

He frowned, “I’ll ask around. Do you have tiles yet?”

“No,” I admitted.

“That might be the hard part. You can still find a few guys willing to come out, but all the factories are shut down.”

“Shit.”

He gave me a look of sympathy. “Yeah. There are stories of people doing penny walls or using their grandma’s china to tile just so they have a working bathroom.”

“I don’t have either of those things,” I said sadly.

He nodded, “I’ll ask around. It isn’t a big project and people might have some leftovers.”

Given how protective Nick was of the house I should have expected his warning. I was still unimpressed to see “no ugly tile” written on the drywall in the morning. Still, he could have used the last of my lipstick and instead had found a pencil somewhere. I tried to ignore it as I brushed my teeth. I didn’t even have a mirror over the sink. Grumbling around the toothbrush I realized, “Fuck. I’m the only person who could buy a haunted house where the ghost had been watching too much HGTV.”

That earned me a creepy house shaking laugh and proof that he hadn’t just left.

“It’s your fault,” he purred in my ear. “You are the one who fell asleep all those nights with decorating shows playing on repeat on your computer.”

I sighed. “Yeah, it was,” I agreed sadly. “If I hadn’t would you be haunting me right now?”

“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen the value in what you are doing and I wouldn’t have spent a week keeping you alive when you got sick. Perhaps you would have been haunting me.”

I frowned, “I wasn’t sick for a week! It was only a couple of days!”

“You should check your calendar. It was a couple of days of you being sick and a week of me forcing you to breathe.”

“There is no way I lost a week without noticing!”

He didn’t say anything. When I checked my calendar there were nearly two weeks missing. I told myself it didn’t mean anything. Nick used my computer, he could have just deleted the information. I could just call work or Penny or someone and ask how long I was away for.

I kind of didn’t want to. What if he was telling the truth?

I took my coffee and toast and ate breakfast outside, once again wishing for a cigarette. Nick had never left the house, as far as I knew, and I didn’t want to talk to him just then. This was ridiculous! Shadow monsters didn’t … do that! They didn’t … exist. I was just … this wasn’t happening!

I was out of coffee and the coldness of the concrete bench was soaking through my night shirt and into my ass. I had left the folded towel I used as a cushion inside overnight so it wouldn’t get damp. Now I was cold and damp instead. Fuck.

When I made it back to the kitchen, my laptop was open and had apparently been searching for bathroom tiles. ‘Fine. Whatever. Pick something nice that I can afford.”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to do, but contacting a local stained glass artist wasn’t it. I really wasn’t expecting her to check if it was OK if my boyfriend picked out the design since it was my credit card that was paying for it.

I was afraid to ask, but I had to know, “What did he pick?”

Nancy cleared her throat, “Well, originally he wanted a reproduction of a stained glass window from Maison Schott in France. But when we talked about how complicated it would be for a tiler to install that, he settled on a simpler rose on trellis pattern.”

I set down the phone to close my eyes and scrub my face. “Do you like what he picked out?” She seemed a little taken aback by the question. “Yes? It’s a little modern for your age of house, but it’s a nice piece and will be easy to install. It mostly uses different textured white glass, so it would be in keeping with a white bathroom. I can have it ready next week. I’m not exactly over run with work right now.” She paused before she added, “I’ll send you some sketches and if there is anything you need changed, just let me know. I could really use the income, to be honest.”

“Yeah. I understand that. I guess I’m just doing my part to keep the economy running.”

“I really appreciate that. The whole ‘buy local’ movement ended when we weren’t allowed to leave our houses,” Nancy pointed out.

“Ok. Send me the sketches and the quote and I’ll get back to you in the next couple of days.”

I lay in bed that night and looked at the newly drywalled dining room ceiling. “What are you doing, Nick?”

“Making a home for you,” he whispered.

“Can I even afford this? You don’t have a secret money vault hidden in the walls with the razor blades, do you?”

There was a long moment of silence, then he whispered, “You could sell the wine instead of drinking it.”

I froze. “Just because it’s old doesn’t mean that it’s valuable,” I pointed out.

Something caressed my calf as he purred his reply, “But it is.”

I closed my eyes and let my body melt into the mattress. My breath caught in my throat as the touch moved up my leg. As soon as I made the noise, the contact vanished. I groaned.

“What are you doing?”

“Breaking the rules,” he grumbled from across the room.

I needed to know, “Why were there razor blades in the walls?”

“There was a slot in the back of the medicine cabinet for used razor blades to be dropped between the wall boards so that they were safe and wouldn’t hurt anyone in the trash. That was perfectly normal at one point in history,” he explained.

I considered this, “Why were there bloody razor blades in the walls?”

He didn’t answer that one. “Why haven’t you used your little toy since I cleaned it for you?”

Now it was my turn to be silent.

“You liked that toy,” he prompted. “I liked watching you enjoy yourself. Good for everyone.”

“That’s really creepy. Can’t you just watch porn like a normal person?”

“Porn isn’t as satisfying,” he replied. Then he added, “For either of us. And I am not a normal person.”

“I noticed.”

“Would we have fucked by now if I was?” he just sounded curious. The vocal leer from a moment ago was gone.

“I would have had you arrested by now if you were.”

The low chuckle rumbled through the house at that. I closed my eyes and he stroked my face. “Let me watch,” he purred. “I can feel how badly you want.”

That made my eyes snap open. “What?”

“I can taste your fear, but also your pleasure. I enjoyed watching you cum in a way that humans can not understand. And I am very aware of your frustration.”

“What happens to my soul if a shadow … creature watches me play with myself?”

“It gets to live in a house with a happier guardian?” he suggested.

“A guardian? Is that what you are?”

“Guardian sounds better than monster or eldritch god but that’s just semantics.”

“I’m pretty sure there is a difference,” I pointed out.

“Perhaps the difference is what I’m doing at the time. And right now, I am guarding this house, taking care of you and hoping you will take care of yourself.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” I joked. “I’m too damn tired!” I thought for a moment, “I need more rules, Nick.”

“Like what?” he asked in a breathy hissing rasp that sounded pretty much like how I imagined a death rattle would sound.

“Well, there’s that,” I pointed out. “Now I’m scared and I can’t see you so this is going to be another night of sitting up until I fall down.”

“You need to rest,” he murmured in a more normal voice for him. It wasn’t human sounding, but it wasn’t deliberately scary.

I had already set up and was fumbling for a light switch. I shrieked when he caught my hand. “Ugh! Look, either I get to sleep or you get to scare me, but you have to pick one. And I can’t see when you are going to touch me, so it’s scary every time. That’s why I asked you not to. But if you can’t do that, can you at least tell me when it’s coming?”

“Would that really make it better if you knew I was going to lick my way up your back?”

“It would if I knew you would listen when I tell you not to. This is about trust, Nick. I don’t trust you. I am already very aware of how vulnerable I am here. You could easily lock me in the basement and wait for me to starve to death. You could smother me with my pillow. Hell, you could slice open an artery and hide the razor blade in the walls.” I stopped abruptly, wondering if I was just giving him ideas. “I can’t stop you and I can’t leave and I can’t trust you not to lock me in the bedroom because you think that will help me sleep.” He let go of my hand. I turned on the light and looked around the empty house. “My head hurts and I don’t want to be afraid any more.”

“I have never done anything to hurt you, but I can see how I have done things that are frightening.” It sounded like a whisper on the very edge of hearing. “Turn out the light, lay down and I will rub your back until you can sleep. I will do my very best not to be scary.”

I turned on my laptop as a source of light and sound before I turned off the light switch. “I can’t believe I am saying this, but if you want this to be less scary for me, find me a nightlight. I haven’t needed one since I was ten, but, congratulations, I do now.”

I felt the bed dip. It didn’t always do that. “I’m going to rub your back now,” he whispered. “You can tell me to stop.”

“Ok,” I acknowledge.

It wasn’t a massage; it was more like a person petting a cat. He started at the top of my head and stroked back to my waist, then stopped and started again. It was vaguely soothing and I was really exhausted by then. At some point in the night I woke to see a huge black shape hunched over my keyboard.

In the morning I had emails confirming my order of six cartoon animal night lights from IKEA and one from an auction house saying they would be happy to broker the sale of my wine and that they would send an expert to confirm its authenticity.

I wondered how you forge wine.

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #shadow monster

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noirineverysense · 3 years ago

Text

Case files - ACP

File no #2

Entry by: Zak Noor

Client #1 call: “There was somethin’ up dere, I’m tellin’ ya. There were these lights and they moved in circles, like they were dancin’. It was freaky as hell.

Investigator's note: It's aliens. It's definitely aliens.

Client #2 call: “Something mowed down my crops! They made weird circles in the corn! The police think I did it myself! You’ve got to help me.”

Investigator's note: Crop circles! Actual. Crop. Circles!

Client #3 call: T-there’s a spaceship! On my lawn! P-please get rid of it!

Investigator's note: This is the best day of my life.

"Zak!"

The boy looks up from the screen to see the detective team's leader at the doorway, holding a small coat.

"We're leaving now."

Zak smiles at Arthur and closed the laptop lid. He walks towards the door, grabbing the coat on his way out.

The leader followed behind and they reach the car. Arthur gets in the front passenger-side and Zak sits in the back. He looks beside him to see the usual irritated look on the medic's face.

"What took you two so long?"

The second-in-command, Isaac, smiled as he started the car and drove, "What were you up to?"

"Waiting for the rookie." Arthur grumbled.

"Probably messing around as per usual." Nasira rolls her eyes.

Zak smirked, "Actually I was transcribing client telephone calls."

The medic's eyes widened, "You actually - "

"Yep, and adding notes too."

Arthur cleared his throat, "That's impressive, well done."

"I suppose that is useful." Nasira sighs.

Isaac lets out a laugh, "See what happens when you assume things."

"Yes, it makes an ass out of you."

"It's 'makes an ass out of you and me.'"

"Pretty sure its just you."

"You - "

"No, we're not doing this again. I'm not listening to you two argue for hours on end." Arthur glares at the two of them through the rear-view mirror.

Nasira shrugs and rests against her seat. Zak looks slighty flustered.

"Sorry, Arthur."

"It's fine."

The remaining couple of hours go by quietly, Zak starts to nod off but is awoken suddenly.

"We're here!" Isaac calls.

The teen looks out of the window to see the rolling green against a deepening blue.

"Who are we going to first?"

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, "The clients all live fairly close by. We'll stop by the man with the crops then focus our investigation on the woman with a spaceship on her lawn. I've already notified the first that we're here and investigating."

Zak squeezes his eyes shut as he lets the excitement of finding an alien run through him.

They get out and take a small hike to the first door. Arthur knocks and a man, with greying hair and a gruff voice immediately answers.

"Oh, it's you."

"Hi, we're - "

"Follow me."

The man walks past them, and heads toward a tall grassy flatland. The team share a look before following.

They get to a corn field and the man frowns at the team looking and touching the tall cobs.

"I didn't pay you to look at corn. Find out who did this."

Nasira frowns at the man, about to counter but Arthur puts a hand on her shoulder. Then the client walks away.

The team start walking through the corn field until they reach areas of cut down corn.

"This must be the crop circles!" Zak cheers.

They find themselves walking around until it gets dark.

“Crop circles! Near a spaceship!”

“Yes, Zak. We know. We’ve been walking through them for twenty minutes now.” Nasira sighs.

“We should leave, its getting too dark too look around anymore." Arthur then frowns, "Where did Isaac go?”

“Boo!”

“Hah! Nasira already tried that trick. Fool me once, motherfucker!" Zak yells out.

“So you admit you were fooled.”

“Shut up.”

"Lets meet our next client." Arthur tries to stop another argument.

They head out of the field and walk up a hill to find a house. As the woman claimed, flat circular metal with domed glass on top sat on her lawn.

"A spaceship!" Zak shouts excitedly.

Nasira frowns at him, "This is the most obvious stage prop. What are you on about?”

“N-no, it’s real, right Arthur?”

“Sorry, Zak. But does she think we’re an excavation team or something.”

“She was probably just scared when she asked to remove it and don’t be mean, Nasira.”

“Mean is my middle name, Isaac.”

“Wait, seriously?” Zak asks confusedly.

“Zak, you dumbass.”

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, “So, what do we think?”

Nasira sighs exasperatedly as Isaac gave a small smile.

“It’s probably someone pulling an elaborate prank." Isaac turns to Zak and his eyes creased as he smiles sympathetically, "Sorry, Zak. I know how much you wanted to find an alien.”

Zak sighs then smiles, “It’s okay. I still want to find whoever did this. They seem cool.”

“They seem like they’re wasting our time.” Nasira frowns, “What do you think, Arthur?”

“If Zak wants to find them, then that’s a good enough reason for me.”

Zak cheers in response. Isaac looks around the quiet hill where the house stood.

“Where are we sleeping tonight? We’re too far away from any hotels.”

Arthur slowly exhales, “I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear?”

“Good news!” Zak yells.

“Bad news.” Nasira grumbles at the same time.

“The good news is we aren’t camping out because our client offered us a place to stay. The bad news is she only has one spare bedroom and they don’t want us in the lounge.”

“W-what?” Zak asks anxiously.

“Oh,” Nasira yawns, “is that it?”

“Bed’s a bed, right?” Isaac smiles.

“Yeah, it’s fairly big, and she had an air mattress if anyone wants to sleep on the floor.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Nasira starts walks toward the house. Arthur and Isaac follow and Zak trails behind, eyes fixed on the ground.

Arthur gives the client, Susan, a woman with black hair and a ruddy complexion, an update that she seemed happy with and she offered them dinner at the table. They ate happily and conversed with her two kids before heading upstairs. They cleaned up in the bathroom one by one then Arthur, Isaac and Nasira settled into the bed.

Zak stands at the end of the bed, fingers twiddling anxiously.

“Zak, you’re being creepy.” Nasira groans.

He jolts up, “Sorry, I just, um...”

Isaac lifts his head from a pillow, “Zak, are you okay?”

“I can get the air mattress if you’d like.” Arthur mumbles tiredly.

Zak feels his heart rate pound, “It’s just, I don’t think there’s any space- “

Arthur pushes himself up suddenly. He has bleary eyes and a bed-head, “There’s plenty of space. Nasira, move up.”

“Sorry,” she doesn’t sound apologetic as she shuffles to make space in the middle for Zak.

“Um, I- “

“Zak, you can tell us what’s upsetting you.” Isaac offers kindly.

“It’s just, I want to do it, but I don’t know if I can.”

Nasira frowns into her pillow, “What? Sleep? It’s easy you just close your eyes and – “

“No!” Zak yells, hiding a smile, “I mean share a bed.”

“I mean, it’s the same process. But you have to get in first.”

“Try it, Zak.” Arthur smiles. Isaac nods reassuringly.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll figure something out.”

Zak gets onto the bed, then climbs into the middle. Arthur pulls the covers over the four of them and Zak feels his heart rate pick up and he shifts uncomfortably.

“You okay?” Nasira’s voice was muffled by the bed sheet.

“I’ll be fine.”

Arthur and Isaac soon start to snore and Zak listens to Nasira’s soft breathing too. He can’t seem to relax enough to sleep, however. But there’s a part of him that wants to stay awake so this could last longer.

Client #2 voicemail: There were these guys in black that were in my crops, mowing them down. Don’t think its aliens, just hooligans. Call me to arrange a refund.

“Aliens! We need to find aliens!” Zak calls, pulling the curtains out and letting sunlight reach the bed.

“Zak, I’m going to kill you,” Nasira warns groggily.

“Rookie, go away.”

Isaac continued to snore away

“Fine, I’ll look for aliens on my own.”

“Don’t go too far,” Arthur yawns before closing his eyes.

“Sure,” Zak smiles.

He gets some sandwiches from the kitchen then heads out. He decides to run down the hill at top speed which causes him to trip and crash a hundred feet from the base.

“Ow...”

He was surprisingly fine considering the height of the fall, which he was glad about. Nasira would get mad if he got injured from doing something dumb.

A white, gloved hand reaches out to him and he grabs it instinctively. Then he pulls away immediately before two sets of arms grab either side of him and pull him up. He looks in front of him to find a man in a dark hood staring at him. Zak looks at his cloak to find a green alien logo on it.

“W-who are you. Am I still dreaming?”

The people behind him wordlessly try to drag Zak away, he struggles in their grasp, shoes kicking at the long grass.

“Get off me! Arthur! Help- “

He’s stopped by a gloved hand over his mouth and an arm wraps around his neck. He thrashes in their grasp, until his vision starts to blur. He feels his lungs bursting.

Help, I’m going to die!

His frantic thoughts soon disappear as he slumps in the grasp of the cloaked men.

Nasira manages to get up about an hour after Zak left. She hadn’t slept, per se, but she felt like she needed at least an hour to get out of bed. Arthur and Isaac were still asleep, they were nestled into each other, heads gently touching. Nasira rolled her eyes at the sight.

She gets downstairs and follows a sweet scent to the kitchen. She walks in and greets their client, who is at a frying pan and she offers pancakes. Nasira takes her up on it then stands by the kitchen table. Two kids stare up at her.

“You’re still here!” the boy, about the age of seven, yells, much too loudly for how early it was.

She looks back at him and raises an eyebrow, “So it would seem.”

That weird guy already left.” The girl who looked strikingly similar says nonchalantly.

Nasira laughs, “Say, are you two twins?”

The boy puffs his chest out proudly, “Yep, I’m Luke and that’s Charlotte.”

Charlotte gives a small wave, she still looked uninterested. Nasira could understand.

“Hello, I’m Nasira. Did you see where the weird guy went?”

“Some weirder guys took him.”

Nasira’s smile fell from her face as she stares at the girl who just spoke.

“What?”

“Yeah, some guys in black clothes took him.” The words that came from the girl and the contrasting blank expression was making Nasira’s head spin.

“Pancakes, anyone?” Susan calls holding a plate, apparently unaware of the change in atmosphere.

Nasira pushes past her and runs out of the house. She glances around the grassy hills, but there was no sign of the boy.

“Zak!”

She rushes back in and grasps the girl by the shoulders who finally looked startled.

“Who took him? Which direction did they go?”

Susan pulls Nasira off, “What are you talking about? Don’t grab my child like that!”

Nasira doesn’t bother to look up.

Charlotte fiddles with her fingers anxiously, “Um, there were these guys in long black clothes and hoods. They took him away, toward the big hill in the middle. He looked asleep.”

Nasira shakes her head in disbelief and fear before running up the stairs.

“Arthur! Isaac! Get up, right now!”

When Zak wakes up, he’s in a dark room with an arched ceiling. His eyes follow the black arch toward a light at the end. His head turns to the other side to find the light of the outside world at the other end too.

I’m in a tunnel.

He tries to stand up from his sitting position, but is stopped by hands pushing him back down to the ground. He looks up to see two stern faces, shadowed by cloak hoods. He looks around to see other people, men, women, even teenagers, in cloaks all looking ahead of them

He follows their line of sight to the stage set up in the tunnel. He sits in front of all of them, closest to the stage. The man in a cloak with an alien logo from earlier stands and talks on stage.

“We have gathered today to once again call upon our rulers above!”

Zak frowns as the members of the congregation close their eyes and put their hands up.

“Now, brothers and sisters, fix your minds onto the extra-terrestrials above us, who will surely guide us home.”

What the hell is happening?

The congregation begins to hum in unison and Zak watches the man fiddle with something in his pocket.

Then lights shine down on them from above and the crowd cheer.

“They’re here!”

“Please take me and my family away from this wretched Earth!”

Then, the lights turn off and the cloaked group begin to sigh and grumble in frustration. Some even fall to the ground in tears.

I’m so confused right now.

“You all have nothing to blame but yourselves. Clearly some of you have too much connection to this Earth. Unwilling to let go.”

Some members look down in guilt, others look around, as if they could tell how strong someone’s will to leave Earth for aliens by their face.

“But,” the man calls toward the crowd, “do not be alarmed. You will make contact soon, just as I did. They have seen the signs we made in this town, they will come.”

The group cheers and sings the leader’s praises.

“But, in the mean time, we have an outsider with us.” The man begins to walk toward Zak who is pulled up by the men behind him.

Zak faces the leader, who looks at him with contempt.

“I saw you and your group around the holy sites. What were you up to?”

Zak frowns confusedly, “Holy sites?”

“Yes, where the aliens will make contact with us.”

“We were investigating, looking for aliens too.”

The leader smiles, “So, you’re a believer then.”

Zak blinks, “I guess?”

“Then that changes things!” He signals for the men to release him and they do.

Zak massages his arms where he had been grabbed. He looks back at the leader who gestures to follow him.

Zak does and they reach the stage. Then the man starts to put a cloak on Zak who shakes his head.

“Wait, I didn’t say I was joining you.”

“Nonsense, you are already one of us. You will be welcomed and looked after here. We’re a family here.”

Zak steps back, “I’m already looked after. I already have a fa- a team!.”

He takes another step and hits the chest of a large man, who then grabs him around the torso and lifts him.

“Hey, let me go!”

The man steps toward him, “You mean those other investigators? Do you think they see it that way?”

“I don’t – “

“What makes you think they’re coming to get you? Are you sure they aren’t just happy you’re gone?”

“No! They’re... Just let me go!”

The man steps back and shakes his head, “No one leaves here, especially not outsiders.”

Then he nods to his henchman, “Take him to the cells. We may make a believer out of him, yet.”

Zak’s heart pounds in his ears as fear pools in his stomach.

N-no! Not again!

“D-don’t lock me up! Please! I’ll be good. I’m not a danger! I’m not! I swear!”

“Sorry, boy you – “

“No, you can’t, please, you can’t! NO!”

The boy starts to thrash rabidly, kicking and screaming in the large man’s grip. The henchman wrestles to keep hold of the boy until he’s bitten and lets go with a yelp.

Zak hits the ground then dashes into the crowd. Every single one of them moves to stop him in unison. He manages to evade a few before he’s stopped by several hands that drag him back to the stage.

“Well done, your loyalty will surely be rewarded in the life to come.”

“N-no! Please don’t do this!”

“Don’t worry, my boy. The benevolent beings will set you free- “

“ZAK!”

He snaps out of his panic and turns to the familiar voice and sees the figure at the edge of the tunnel, illuminated by sunlight.

“ARTHUR!”

The man rushes toward him, fighting off anyone who dared get in his way. He reaches Zak and pulls him away from his captors, shoving him behind his back protectively.

Isaac and Nasira followed behind quickly. Isaac puts a hand on Zak’s shoulder and looks into his eyes, as if to check for something. The boy nods in response.

“I’m okay.”

Isaac then stands beside Arthur before crouching into a fighting stance. Nasira bends down to a knee and looks up at Zak frowning.

“We tracked your phone, are you hurt?”

Zak, surprised at her concerned tone, stutters out a response, “Y-yeah, yeah, I’m fine. But my neck is a bit sore.”

“Your neck?”

She tilts his chin a little and checks the damage. Zak flushes at the contact. Then, her brows bunch and Zak grimaces.

“I-is it bad?”

“You were strangled?”

“Yeah.”

“Breathing?”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

Then she gives him a reassuring smile and Zak’s eyes widen at it.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll check up on you again once we get back.”

“T-thank you,” he blushes and Nasira laughs.

Zak laughs too, then his mouth closes into a smirk.

“You know, you’re actually kind of nice.”

That earns him a shove on his shoulder.

“Don’t push it, kid.”

There was a crash and they both turn to it. Arthur and Isaac stand before the large henchman who was now on the floor.

Arthur’s eyes narrow at the cult leader, “We’re leaving.”

Isaac puts a hand on his hip, “Unless you’d like to try and stop us.” His usual smile wasn’t on his face.

The man tenses before slumping in resignation and waving them off.

The two turn to Zak, Isaac’s stern face then splits into a grin. He bends down and stretches his arms out as an invitation. Zak finds himself running into them before he realises what he’s doing.

The arms wrap around him as Zak buries himself into the second-in-command’s chest. There are words that sounded reassuring and loving above him, but the overwhelming touch stops him from hearing them.

Nasira steps up off the ground and watches as Arthur walks over to gently stroke Zak’s hair. He whispers apologies and the boy shakes his head at them. She looks around at the people who were around them, staring with confusion, fear and disbelief in their eyes. She only feels pity in return.

Arthur walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder, “We’ll call the authorities. Maybe get these people some help. And that guy arrested.”

She turns to him and sighs, then they both look back as Isaac walks over, carrying a flushed but cheery Zak.

“Case closed, right?” the boy grins.

“Yeah, rookie.” Arthur smiles back, “Good job.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tinyplan3ts

#whumptober2021 #no.22 #obsession #oc #fic #kidnapping #drugged #cult whump #trauma #manhandling #aliens #acp #this ones a long one #next ones shorter i promise #theres only one bed : platonic edition

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marvelyningreen · 4 years ago

Text

Aftershocks - From the Series Finale (a deleted scene)

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3

[Summary: You’d traveled to Westview to rescue Peter. Getting locked away by some sinister witch might’ve delayed you a bit, but you’d escaped, and you weren’t going to be stopped again.

Warnings: mild language, references to injury / mind control / death

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader. This was meant to be a flashback during Night 2, but it turned into way too long of a digression. So, here it is: presented as a deleted scene while I finish Night 3. It’s a bit sparse in the places where I would’ve just been summarizing the episode, but I figure you already know the details. Into Tomorrow is a continuation of the scene, more or less.

Tag list: @cowboyenorgy ]

After an indeterminate amount of time sneaking around Westview, trying to find your way back to the street where Vision lived, you’d finally done it. It might’ve taken days, or maybe it’d only been hours. It was so hard to tell here.

One minute it was spontaneously Halloween. The next, the entire layout of the town kept shifting around you until you were completely lost. But you’d made it.

As much as you’d wanted to go straight to find Peter, you knew you couldn’t do it on your own. You didn’t know how to counteract the witch’s powers. Vision seemed to know something, though. He was your best chance.

Unfortunately, his house seemed to be deserted. From your hiding place, you couldn’t see any lights on, or any signs of movement. Maybe he was at work? You’d waited this long already; you figured you might as well stay put until he came home.

And just as you’d decided on that course of action, the sound of breaking glass erupted from the neighbor’s house. The attic window shattered outward, and two people crashed through it, landing on the lawn.

One of them – a woman you hadn’t seen before – stuck a perfect three-point-landing more or less facing your direction. The second – a man – didn’t land nearly as gracefully, but still seemed unhurt. You couldn’t see his face, but you were certain it had to be Peter.

He stood, moving as though to cut off the woman’s escape route. He gestured for the woman to get up.

“I can do this all day, babe!” he called.

Scowling, the woman straightened up, dusting herself off and clearly getting ready for round two. The witch was nowhere in sight. Maybe you’d have a better chance of getting through to Peter if he was on his own. You scrambled out of hiding.

“Peter!” you shouted.

Confused, they both turned to look your way. You didn’t have a chance to say anything more before Peter sped over to you – and you just then noticed how weirdly slow he was moving. Instead of almost appearing to teleport, he was a visible blur that your gaze could follow as it approached you.

Peter stopped directly in front of you. He smiled.

“Hey again,” he said, and cheerfully threw you halfway down the block.

You landed hard, skidding another yard or so before coming to a stop. You thanked your lucky stars that you’d landed on somebody’s lawn, not on the pavement. When the hell had Peter gotten superhuman strength, anyway?

As you sat up, the woman ran to your side.

“Are you alright?” she asked, casting a wary glance back towards Peter, who was strolling casually towards you both.

“I’m okay,” you said. You were winded, and you could tell already that you’d added some new scrapes and bruises to your growing collection, but it didn’t seem like you’d been hurt.

“Captain Rambeau,” she introduced herself, offering a brisk handshake.

“You can call me Ace,” you said, “I’m… a friend.”

“Of his?” The captain raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“Yeah, well, he’s not exactly himself at the moment.”

Peter had stopped a ways away from you. You weren’t sure why he didn’t try to attack again.

“You called him ‘Peter,’” said Captain Rambeau. “Is that his real name?”

You nodded.

“Listen, ladies, if you wanted to make this a threesome, all you had to do was ask!” Peter called.

“And I’m guessing that’s not his real personality,” said the captain, catching sight of your disgusted expression.

“Not remotely,” you said.

The captain shrugged. “Well, guess we know what Agnes is into. The witch,” she explained. “The one who’s controlling him.”

“Why’s he just standing there?” you asked. You weren’t opposed to getting a second to breathe, but it was weird.

“I think he’s just supposed to stop us from getting to Wanda,” she said.

At that point, you hadn’t the faintest idea who Wanda was or how she was part of this whole mess, but you figured you could ask later. As you looked over at Captain Rambeau, you noticed her eyes glowing an unearthly blue. That was… unexpected.

“It’s that necklace,” she said. “That’s how Agnes is controlling him. If we can find some way to break it… But he’s too fast.”

Fast? Maybe by normal human standards, but he was moving at a crawl compared to his usual speed. Wait. That was it.

Your abilities didn’t work well in this world, but maybe they’d be more effective against something from your own world.

“Listen,” you said. “I think I can slow him down for you, if you think you can get that necklace. Act like you’re going to make a break for it, and when he tries to go past me, I’ll catch him.”

Captain Rambeau nodded, and took off down the street. Peter immediately gave chase.

Back home, Peter was far too fast for you to ever catch. But here, with him moving like he was running through quicksand? You might actually stand a chance.

You took a deep breath, reaching out. You felt a familiar resonance, and the sensation of something setting like a fishhook.

Peter slammed to a halt like he’d hit a brick wall. He paused for a moment, seemingly confused. He tried to run, but only managed a casual jog. It was working.

Then Peter turned back towards you, his expression something between furious and impressed. Your arm began to shake as you felt him struggling against you.

You really hoped this Captain Rambeau wasn’t going to leave you hanging.

“Well, looks like you’re good for something after all, huh, babe?” he said, strolling towards you.

“Peter would know,” you said, trying to keep his focus on you. “I don’t just break the laws of reality. I can enforce them, too.”

Peter sighed, shaking his head. “I really wish you weren’t complicating things so much. You could’ve just walked away, but-”

At that moment, Captain Rambeau dashed in, grabbing hold of the necklace and tearing it from Peter’s throat.

With a gasp, Peter’s smug expression shifted into a look of horrified panic. He looked at his hands like he was shocked he could move them. Then his gaze snapped back to you.

Your name – your real name – burst from his lips in a strangled cry. He rushed towards you, but stopped short, eyes widening as he took in the state of you.

“Oh, God… What did I-?”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you said. “I’m okay.”

You took his hands, and for a second you were worried that he was going to collapse.

Peter shook his head vehemently. “But you’re hurt!”

“Are you kidding?” you said. “Raven’s kicked my ass worse than this in training.”

Which was a lie, but at that point, you would’ve said just about anything to calm him down. It seemed to work, but only just.

“You’re here,” he said. His voice was quieter now. “You’re actually here.”

“Of course I’m here,” you said. “I came to bring you home.”

That wild look hadn’t left Peter’s eyes as they stared into yours. Gently, you took his face in your hands. At your touch, his eyes closed, and his head bowed just a little. You moved closer, pressing your forehead to his. He laid his hands on yours. His shaky breathing began to grow steadier.

Before either of you could say anything else, you were interrupted be the honking of a car horn.

Or rather, a funnel cake truck horn, to be exact. The driver – a bespectacled brunette – leaned her head out the window.

“As adorable as this is – and hi, by the way,” she called, “I think we’ve got bigger problems right now.”

Peter blinked rapidly, trying to pull himself together. He turned to Captain Rambeau.

“She’s right. Those kids are in danger. We have to do something. I’ll explain everything later,” he said, looking back at you, clearly distressed. “You’re already hurt. Just… stay safe until we get this under control, okay? Please.”

It killed you to think of letting Peter out of your sight after you’d only just gotten him back, but you nodded. You didn’t know what was going on or what kids were in danger, but you and Peter were X-Men. The safety of civilians always came first.

“It looks like they were headed downtown, Darcy,” Captain Rambeau called back to the driver. “Take Ace and follow us there, alright?”

With one last backward glance, Peter took off after Captain Rambeau.

As quickly as you were able, you climbed into the passenger side of the truck, smiling awkwardly at the driver as she put it back in gear and started off.

“Dr. Darcy Lewis,” she introduced herself, side-eying you. “Not the kind of doctor you clearly need, though. Sorry.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said. There was silence for a moment.

“So…” she said, “You and fake Pietro, huh?”

“His name is Peter,” you said, “But, yeah. I came to rescue him. We’re… not from around here.”

You were honestly too tired to explain more than that, but Dr. Lewis seemed to accept that explanation.

“Well, it’s not the first time I’ve met people who aren’t from around here.” She shrugged. “You ever heard of Thor? God of Thunder? He’s a friend of mine. Nice guy; great muscles.”

She said it so casually. Any other time, you would’ve thought this woman was nuts. But after time in Westview? Her claims didn’t sound that outlandish.

“Huh. Nice.” You nodded, impressed. Then, “This is gonna sound like a stupid question, but, uh… Who’s Wanda?”

Dr. Lewis gaped at you incredulously for a moment.

“Oh, boy…” she sighed.

Dr. Lewis gave you the rundown on the whole situation, and frankly? It was a lot. Parts of it – stuff about Avengers and Infinity Stones and snaps and blips – didn’t make any sense to you. But you did manage to grasp some of the more immediately relevant bits. Namely:

Wanda was immensely powerful. She had a twin brother named Pietro who – like your Peter – had superhuman speed, and who had died saving lives, leaving Wanda completely alone in the world.

Vision was apparently some sort of android, and also technically dead…?

But some real piece of work named Hayward had recreated a brainwashed zombie version of Vision and brought it to life using Wanda’s powers, and he was now trying to kill Wanda to cover up his crimes.

How the witch named Agnes and her kidnapping and mind-controlling Peter played into this, Dr. Lewis wasn’t entirely sure.

“Finally!” she said, apropos of nothing. “I swear, Wanda must’ve changed the whole layout of the town. The center is just up ahead.”

There was some sort of commotion overhead, and on the ground, too. Two young boys (probably the kids Peter had mentioned) stood in the street, facing down some military-looking types.

You and Dr. Lewis both shouted in alarm as one man pulled out a handgun and aimed it directly at the kids. From around the corner, Captain Rambeau and Peter ran in, and –

Shots rang out. You could only watch in horror as the man opened fire.

The strange blue blur that was Peter struggled to catch and redirect as many as he could, but it wasn’t enough. Two rounds tore through Captain Rambeau’s midsection, but…

You were still too far away to see exactly what happened, but Captain Rambeau seemed to glow, or phase out of sight for a second, and then she straightened up – unharmed. One of the boys raised his hand, evidently catching the single bullet that had gotten past Peter and the captain.

The man – Hayward, judging by the doctor’s lurid swearing – threw down his gun and hurried to climb back into his vehicle.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Dr. Lewis said under her breath. “Ace, hang onto something.”

“What are you- Oh, shit!”

You grabbed the door to brace yourself as Dr. Lewis gunned it down the street. Before Hayward could begin to make his escape, the funnel cake truck slammed into the side of his Humvee, pinning him inside.

Hayward turned, glaring daggers at Dr. Lewis.

“Have fun in prison,” she said cheerily.

You know what? You take it all back. Dr. Lewis was, in fact, kinda nuts. It was still a pretty badass move, though.

As steam began trickling from the truck’s busted radiator, Dr. Lewis unfastened her seatbelt.

“Well, looks like this thing’s not going anyplace, and neither is he,” she said, nodding at Hayward. “We might as well – I dunno – see if we can help or something.”

As you followed her lead, you heard Peter shouting: “How was that in any way ‘staying safe?’”

“Yeah, well, that’s what seatbelts are for,” Dr. Lewis called back. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

Peter was there beside the truck as you stepped down out of it. You shifted your weight experimentally onto your injured leg, and let out a strangled yelp. Okay, bad idea. Peter immediately looped your arm around his shoulders and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Lean on me, lean on me,” he said, “I got you.”

You fought the impulse to collapse against him completely. You’d spent… days? You didn’t know how long – scrambling and searching and breaking out of hospitals and hiding in hedges just to get back to him. You just wanted to hold him and sleep for at least a week.

But the whole business wasn’t over yet. As Peter helped you limp around the truck, you saw that there was another man standing by the kids and Captain Rambeau, talking to Dr. Lewis. He skin was an unnatural shade of red (was that face paint or something?), and he was wearing this strange caped costume. Catching sight of Peter, the man’s eyes narrowed.

“No, it’s okay,” said Dr. Lewis. “He’s cool. He’s with us now.”

The man didn’t seem convinced. His gaze shifted to you, and he tilted his head curiously.

“Ace?” he said.

You blinked. “Vision?”

The voice was the same. The eyes, too. You wouldn’t have recognized him otherwise. He was the only friendly face you’d seen in this place. You couldn’t help but smile at seeing him again. Still, you remembered what Dr. Lewis had said – you’re talking to a ghost.

“Do you two know each other?” asked Dr. Lewis.

“We met, briefly,” you said, “When I first got into town. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“So, the friend you were looking for…?” Vision inclined his head inquiringly towards Peter.

You nodded. Peter waved, letting out a stilted, rueful laugh.

“Your children…?” you asked, gesturing to the boys.

Vision put his arms around them both, a proud smile brightening his worried expression.

“My children,” he said, “And… up there is my wife.”

As one, the whole group looked up to the two women still locked in combat above you.

Captain Rambeau frowned. “Can’t we do something?”

“I tried,” said Vision, “But it seems that Wanda wants to finish this on her own terms, unaided.”

The others kept worried eyes on the proceedings, but Peter turned his attention back to you, helping you to sit down on a nearby bench. He knelt in front of you.

“Scale of one to ten,” he said, “How worried should I be?”

“One,” you said. “I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything’s broken, so I’m calling that a win.”

“Hmm, nope. Still worried. Less dire question – why is everybody calling you ‘Ace?’”

“The professor said not to tell anybody my real name,” you said. “There was no way of knowing what I was walking into. We didn’t think we should tell anyone too much.”

“Oh…” Peter’s mouth twisted into a guilty grimace. “I kinda told Monica everything when we were running over here.”

Red light flashed blindingly above you, drawing your attention upwards.

[The battle proceeds as in canon, ending with Agatha’s defeat.]

Wanda turned back to the others, smiling. The boys ran to hug her, and Vision was close behind. You were too far away to hear what was being said, but at Vision’s words, Wanda’s smile faded. Putting their arms around each other, the family walked a little ways down the street.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Peter shook his head. A pained expression crossed Captain Rambeau’s face. She closed her eyes, turning away.

“This Vision was never real to begin with,” said Dr. Lewis, her tone oddly solemn. “I think he’s saying goodbye.”

At that, she, too, turned away. Whatever passed between Wanda, Vision, and their children – their farewell wasn’t for prying eyes to watch.

Peter seized your hand and leaned his forehead against your shoulder. You bowed your head over his, closing your eyes. After a moment, you felt something pass over you.

It was that same feeling of overwhelming grief that’d struck you when you first entered Westview, but you understood it now. If you had lost Peter – truly lost him, for good – you imagined that it’d feel something like that.

It only lasted a second, though. In its wake, everything felt brighter, colder.

When you looked up, you cast an uncertain glance back down the main street. There stood Wanda and her children.

Vision was nowhere to be seen.

Wanda pressed her hands to her mouth and slowly sank to her knees. The boys knelt beside her, crying openly, and she pulled them close.

Your heart broke to see them, and you turned away again. It felt wrong to intrude on their grief, even from a distance. Westview had changed. The town seemed faded and dull, somehow desaturated.

Peter had changed, too. His hair was silver again, instead of that strange dirty-blond shade, and his clothes were the same ones he’d been wearing when he was taken.

“You’re all yourself again,” you said.

Peter looked down at himself in surprise. His eyes widened, and he frantically felt his pockets before letting out a sigh of relief. Something about him looked too bright for your pale surroundings. Maybe it was the fact that neither of you belonged to that world, or maybe it was the fact that you were so damn glad to have him back.

Or it might’ve been that this was the first time you’d seen him smile since he was freed from the witch’s control. You leaned in and kissed him.

“God, I missed you,” he said.

Before he could say anything else, another conversation interrupted him.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Dr. Lewis was saying. “I was just trying to keep him from getting away.”

She and Captain Rambeau surveyed the dented Humvee in which Hayward was still trapped.

“Well, we’re gonna have to get him out of there somehow,” said the captain.

“Can’t you do some sorta…” Dr. Lewis extended her arms, wiggling her fingers in the direction of the vehicle, “Now?”

Captain Rambeau laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Darcy.”

Suddenly, the former funnel cake truck lurched. With a strained metallic groan, it was dragged slowly back and away from the Humvee, leaving just enough space for someone to hypothetically get through and apprehend Hayward.

“What the-?”

Captain Rambeau turned to look back towards you and Peter, or rather, to the street behind you. You caught Peter’s eye just before turning to look yourself, and smiled. Of course.

Peter’s eyes widened again. “Dad?”

“Professor?” you exclaimed.

You might’ve expected Mr. Lehnsherr to come after Peter when he found out what’d happened, but you certainly didn’t expect to see him standing on the main street of Westview with Professor Xavier at his side. Peter stood up, but anything he might’ve said was cut off – once again – by Dr. Lewis.

“Hey, cheekbones!” she called out. “Nice one.”

Upon realizing that he was the one being addressed with that remark, Mr. Lehnsherr gave her a perplexed smile and lowered his arm. But his expression turned serious again at the sound of approaching sirens.

“It’s okay,” said Captain Rambeau. “Agent Woo is with is. I’ll talk to him.”

She and Dr. Lewis went to meet the approaching vehicles, while Mr. Lehnsherr and the professor moved quickly towards you.

“Are you two alright?” the professor asked.

“We’re fine,” you said.

“I’m fine,” Peter corrected. “You can barely walk.”

The professor’s brows furrowed in concern. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I’m glad you did, though” you said frankly. “I wouldn’t wish this experience on anybody.”

Peter turned his attention to Mr. Lehnsherr, eyeing him with an expression that seemed a little incredulous, but pleased.

“So. you really came all the way from Genosha for me?” he said.

“I heard you’d been abducted to another reality; of course I came back. Something this ridiculous could only happen to you, Peter,” said Mr. Lehnsherr. Then his expression softened, “I’m glad you’re alright, son.”

“What happened here, exactly?” asked the professor, as he surveyed the street.

“Well, my perspective on events might be kinda limited, but you can see for yourself.”

You leaned towards the professor slightly, offering your thoughts. He touched your temple, and that odd dreamlike sensation washed over your mind as he sifted through your memories of Westview. You were glad you’d asked Dr. Lewis to explain things to you. Maybe the professor could glean more meaning from the story than you’d been able to.

When you opened your eyes, the professor looked pensive, and no less concerned.

“I think it’s high time we get the two of you home,” he said.

“Not that I want to distrust government agents,” said Mr. Lehnsherr, keeping a wary eye on Hayward’s arrest in progress, “But I’m inclined to agree with Charles.”

Peter frowned hesitantly. His gaze had drifted to Wanda and her sons.

“Just… give me one minute, alright?” he said. “There’s something I wanna say first.”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff fanfiction #wandavision fanfic #those moments when you ask yourself ‘how do I keep this oc out of the way to preserve canon?’#I also had to give you a nickname/code name to get around using the y/n placeholder XP #just shouting into the void

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zigtheeortega · 4 years ago

Text

if we meet again

[part one of the again series]

pairing | bryce x mc

word count | 10k

warnings | mentions of sex, innuendos, drinking.

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @dakotawinchester, @writinghereandthere, @pixelsandkink, @masquerade-reimagined, @choicesarehard, @nerdferatum, @bobbymckenzie, @agentdumortain, @bryceslahela, @lahellacute, @violinet, @zigsnose, @adamdusmortain, @drsobemoji, @choeries, @houserosario, @plasticdodecagon, @noimarocketman (tagged sideblogs instead of main blogs!)

author’s note | so i recently finished the before trilogy of films, and i really wanted to write something based off of it but in a way that would better encapsulate bryce and my mc spencer! part one consists of years 1 - 4, taking place through their undergrad years at university. this is gonna be a bit of a journey so buckle up!

read on ao3! [disclaimer: ao3 version has smut included, not separate.]

•─────────────────•

year one

The ride from the airport to her parents’ home was long and grueling, the slushy ice pelting the windshield barely passing for snow.

It was practically sub-zero outside, a stark difference between the mid seventies weather she’d just left.

Boarding a plane wearing a tank top and layering as she stepped off was a weird experience to say the least. It was like stepping into another world.

The cookie cutter suburbs were nauseatingly bland. Was this really what her parents wanted?

Sure, they were the typical awestruck immigrant family who were obsessed with the American experience, but to be wholly consumed by it? God she never wanted a roundtrip date to come so fast in her life.

They’d closed on the house faster than she could complain about it, but she couldn’t have done much anyways. They’d packed the house up right before she left for her freshman year of college, so the decision didn’t affect her too much.

The slush came down harder, sounding nearly like hail on the roof of her taxi.

She glanced down at her dirty tennis shoes and grimaced – she dreaded having to lug her suitcase from the taxi to her front door.

When it screeched to a stop, she handed the driver a couple bills (leaving a hefty tip, because hey, it was the holidays) and retrieved her things from the trunk.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, suitcase gripped in her right hand, she braced the freezing wet rain.

The walk from the mailbox to the front door was way longer than she remembered. About halfway up the short stairs, she made a crucial mistake. The ball of her foot caught a patch of ice and she tumbled to the ground.

“Ah, fuck,” she grumbled, twisting her body so she was sitting on the stairs. The rain seeped through her jeans, freezing her ass and thighs.

“Hey, miss, you okay?” A voice called from across the lawn.

Her loose hoodie obstructed her vision, so she couldn’t see the man, but she heard his shoes squelch across the grass as he jogged towards her.

“Here, lemme take that,” he said, grabbing her backpack and suitcase before helping her up with his free hand.

She tossed her hood back to catch a glimpse of the kind stranger, and her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the handsome boy in front of her.

A single dimple appeared on one of his flushed cheeks as he flashed a grin at her, his hair damp from the falling rain. “You good?” He asked again, brown eyes searching hers.

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for coming to help me up,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I’ll help you to the front door. This is your house, right? I’m not aiding and abetting a burglar?” He teased, turning to walk towards her door.

“No, no. My parents live here,” she said, pointing at the house.

“And you don’t?”

“Technically yeah, in between semesters,” she said, shrugging. “Just took my last final this morning.”

“Oh, cool, me too. I made it in a couple hours ago,” he said, gesturing to the house to the left of theirs.

“So, our parents are neighbors?”

He grinned. “You sound disappointed.”

She shook her head, shoving her hands in her pockets. “No, it’s nice to know someone my age around here. They moved into this house right as I was moving into my dorm, so I didn’t get a chance to get to know anyone.”

“I guarantee my parents were the one to sell you this house,” he said, handing her the backpack and rolling her the suitcase.

“Your parents are realtors? That’s cool,” she said, nodding. “They must be great at their jobs if they convinced them to buy the house so fast.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges, his irresistible dimple popping up again. “I don’t know shit about the housing market, stranger.”

She couldn’t hold her giggle back. His laugh was infectious. “I’m the stranger? You ran up to me first.”

“Yeah, but I landed first, so I deem you the stranger,” he said, gently poking her arm. “So, stranger, do you have a name?”

“Spencer Matsuzaki,” she said, holding a hand out, half of her palm covered with the damp wrist of her hoodie.

“Bryce Lahela. Nice to meet you, stranger.”

––––

The first night home wasn’t terrible. She was practically interrogated, though.

She zoned out, slipping into the same routine she always did when she was bombarded with questions about school.

She had to stay neutral and cordial while explaining aspects of her life in grave detail on top of leaving out tons of information for her parents' health. Her parents would go into cardiac arrest if they knew how much she’d drank that semester.

After dinner, she retreated into her room for the night, grimacing at the catalogue-esque decor. Her parents really leaned into the middle class american aesthetic, and she wasn’t fond of it.

She missed living in the city. Their apartment overlooked her favorite movie theater, favorite coffee shop, and the playground of her old elementary school a couple streets over.

She missed being within walking distance of places that harbored her favorite memories. And from her new window, her view was nothing more than the house across the street and a few scattered bare trees.

The only thing she enjoyed about her new house was the balcony in front of her window, just large enough for her to sit comfortably with another person. Not like that was happening anytime soon, though.

She tugged the blanket around her shoulders, trying to fight off the biting cold. She tightened the drawstrings of her hoodie, shielding her headphones from the wind so she could hear her music clearly.

Her thoughts wandered to the boy next door.

Bryce Lahela. Beautiful face, beautiful name.

She couldn’t really put a finger on it, but something about him was so familiar. Like she’d known him for lifetimes already.

God, she admired people with that quality – being able to make someone so comfortable the minute you meet them that they just slip into whatever void you’d needed filling.

Potentially a dangerous quality, but Spencer didn’t let herself think about that possibility.

The snow had let up, the freezing temperature preserving what’d already fallen. She allowed herself a glance over at the Lahela residence, half hoping she’d find him outside.

Thankfully enough, he was exiting the front door with a wide shovel in hand, bundled up properly, unlike when they’d met a couple hours before.

She watched him as he easily shoveled the muddy sludge off of the walkways. It was just quiet enough that she could hear his soft grunts with effort at the initial plunge of the shovel into the snow.

She didn’t mean to stare. But what else was there to watch? The road was quiet, bare, like a car passing by too loudly would break the suburbian immersion.

After he’d shoveled the first pathway leading up to the house, he moved to the driveway – not before he ripped the beanie off of his head, shaking out his golden strands.

She watched unabashedly, trying to figure out how the hell a gorgeous surfer bro straight out of a Hollister ad was living next door.

He squinted in her general direction, throwing up a gloved hand to cover his eyes. A grin spread quickly, and he tossed the shovel to the ground with the other hand, using it to wave.

“Hey, stranger!” He called.

She ducked down, trying to hide her blushing cheeks as his laugh rang out, disrupting the silence.

–––

Ten pages from the end of her crime novel, right before they revealed the killer, a heavy handed knock caused Spencer to jolt nearly a foot into the air from her sitting position on the couch.

She picked up the book that morning, trying to do something productive that’d double as an excuse to get out of conversing with her parents. Eight hours later, give or take, and they’d barely bugged her for meals, let alone awkward small talk.

Shuffling to the door in her pajama pants, she yawned as she yanked the door open, expecting to see a mailman or something of that nature.

Bryce stood there instead, flirty smile and all, dimple pronounced like the cherry on top of his overwhelming attractiveness.

“Am I boring you already? Sheesh,” he teased, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She cut her yawn off, squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry, I –” She cut herself off with yet another yawn, shaking her head. “Uh, sorry. I know that was probably super ugly.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was cute.”

She tugged her arms around herself, the tank top doing virtually nothing to shield her from the cold. “So… What’s up?”

He grinned, digging in his pocket. “I’m glad you asked.”

He whipped out two tickets, handing them to her. “Light show. You and me. Now.”

“Now?” She asked, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

“Yeah, now. What about it?”

She gestured to her outfit. “I’m not dressed.”

“So? Get dressed,” he shrugged again.

She rolled her eyes. “You really think my parents will let me out this late? I came back to a curfew, you know.”

“Oh. We can work around that.”

“How?” She was genuinely baffled by this guy’s confidence.

“Sneak out.”

“Did you… Did you just skip over the part where I hinted at how strict my parents are?”

He shrugged, again. “Worst case scenario, they ground you for the rest of the break. Then you go back to college in a couple weeks, and they can’t boss you around there, so what are you really risking?”

She chewed her lip, contemplating. “I mean, I can’t argue with you on that one.”

“So you’ll come?”

“Yeah. You’re lucky my parents aren’t home right now,” she said, jabbing an accusatory finger at him.

“Like they could resist this face.”

––––

Downtown – or what she presumed was downtown – was overtaken by lights, the edges of the area blocked off, vendors lined up in parking spaces, nets of overhead lights illuminating the huge displays below.

They’d been walking in silence for a while, just soaking it in and basking in the holiday spirit.

Despite her disdain for the town, Spencer loved the way they celebrated the holidays.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Bryce said a bit suddenly, running off before she had a chance to respond.

“Oh… kay,” Spencer murmured, watching him disappear into the crowd. She tugged at her beanie, raking shaky fingers through her hair.

Bryce was… unwavering. He had such a strong personality and a knack for flirting without meaning to.

To put it in its simplest terms, he made her nervous. Really nervous.

It was like the minute he left her immersion was broken and she realized just how hot he was and that she should be nervous.

Her eyes wandered, trying to alleviate some of her apprehension. She hadn’t been to a community-unifying event like that one before, so watching the families and children prance through the snow was enough to fulfill the soft spot in her heart only classic Christmas movies could fill.

“Here,” Bryce huffed from behind her, breaking her concentration.

She turned at the sound of his voice, flinching when she realized how close he was to her, disposable coffee cup in hand, steam slithering out of the small hole in the lid.

“What’s that?”

“Hot chocolate. I figured you’d want something to warm you up,” he smiled, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug.

“Oh, this is perfect,” she said graciously, taking the cup from his hands, warming both by the way their fingers brushed each others’ and the heat from the drink. “Thank you.”

“Ah, no need to thank me. It’s the least I could do after dragging you out here,” he said a bit sheepishly, kicking the toe of his boot into the snow.

“You didn’t drag me out anywhere. You were convincing,” she laughed, taking a small sip of the hot chocolate, revelling in the way it warmed her from the inside out. “Maybe a bit too convincing.”

“I don’t need to know how powerful I am or I’ll let it go to my head,” he winked. “How is it?”

“Delicious.”

He nodded. “Perfect.”

She sipped on her drink in silence for a while, racking her brain to come up with conversation topics.

They’d really only spoken in passing, so what the fuck were they supposed to talk about?

“So… you want to ride the train?” He asked, pointing at the train riding through the town square.

Within minutes they were seated on the train in the caboose – the very last seat. Families were spread out through the first couple cars, then onto couples.

They probably didn’t want toddlers watching high school aged kids swapping spit, so they sent them to the back.

That notion made Spencer nervous. Was she on a date? He hadn’t really specified – hell, he was barely giving her details about where they were going before dragging her out of her house.

The train began to move, slowly riding through the square, the families in the front chatting and the children giggling and waving at the passing patrons.

She chatted with Bryce about nothing in particular, just kind of getting to know each other. She found out he loved baseball, hated night classes, and was a huge fan of pineapple – he could smell it in her shampoo.

She’d just begun to relax before noticing the young couple in front of her lean in for a kiss that turned a bit heated. Her hands were clasped in her lap to keep them from trembling, her breath just as shaky.

A warm arm grazed her shoulders, his arm resting on the top of the seat. There wasn’t any pressure for her to do anything with him. But she kind of wanted to.

She mustered up the courage to flick her gaze in his direction, settling on his soft, pleasant smile, seemingly permanent on Bryce’s features.

“Is this a date?” She blurted, cursing herself immediately.

He didn’t seem phased.

“If you want it to be.”

She definitely did.

––––

The walk to her front door was long, even longer than when she was on her own lugging her belongings through the icy slush.

“I had a really nice time, Bryce,” she said, ambling up the last couple steps.

“Me, too. I’m glad I bought an extra ticket yesterday,” he grinned.

She raised a brow at him, prompting him to continue.

“After I helped you inside I immediately left to go get tickets,” he said bashfully. His cheeks were flushed – from the cold or the admission, she had no idea.

“So you’d had this date planned for a whole day?” She asked, a bit taken aback. He’d definitely painted it out to be a spur of the moment thing, no premeditation in sight.

“So it was a date,” he teased, dimple even more prominent as he spoke.

She scrunched her lips to the side to hide her own smile. “Yeah, I think it was.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She made the grave mistake of breaking eye contact, her gaze darting from his mouth back to his eyes. He closed the gap between them in one step.

“I can’t kiss you in front of my house. My parents could see,” she whispered as his gloved hand flicked her messy strands away from her cheeks.

“You wanna save this for another time?” Her heart couldn’t help but race at his playful tone.

She nodded.

“How long are you gonna be here for break?” He asked. “I wanna see you again.”

“I’ll be here through the week.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled her into a hug, warm and enveloping despite the cold. “Goodnight, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

She was so comfortable, so safe in his grip that when she felt him loosen it, she squeezed him tighter without really meaning to.

It was scary how quickly she’d grown attached to a complete stranger.

“‘Night,” she waved, eyes still trained on him as she closed the door.

––––

It took her way too long to fall asleep that night.

His last question and her agreeance to the terms ran through her head on loop.

She was anticipating what he was going to do next. Excited to see how the rest of her break would look like.

After a restless night, she awoke pretty early, lounging around in bed for way too long, aimlessly scrolling through social media.

A day ago, she’d have been jealous of her friends vacationing at the beach, but… she wasn’t as upset at the idea of being home for break.

She stood up, stretching and popping her limbs, grabbing a hoodie from her luggage to throw on.

As she did, something caught her attention, just at the edge of her peripheral – a folded slip of paper in her window sill.

She grabbed it, unravelling the damp paper, trying to decipher the bleeding ink.

“Had to leave earlier than I thought. Sorry. Not sure when I’ll see you again, so here’s my number.”

The paper had been covered in water for a long while, so long that the number at the bottom was smudged, the hardest to read out of the whole message. She could barely make out the area code, let alone the rest of it.

She crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, deciding she could just head over and ask his parents for his number instead if he’d left for school.

After trudging across the lawn through the snow, she noticed something was a bit off, but decided to push the feeling down and ring the doorbell.

She peered through the glass of their front door, realizing that the lights were off, clothes and boxes and bags strewn across the foyer.

No one was home.

––––

year two

The moment the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her house, her eyes searched the front lawn of the house next door.

The familiar sensation of disappointment lingered, despite her constant chastising to not get her hopes up.

She sat on her balcony for a couple hours a day, the space heater on full blast at her feet, trying not to look desperate as her eyes flickered to and from Bryce’s house.

But no one entered or exited the house all break.

––––

year three

He stared down the bottom of the glass, eyes trained on the milky film the eggnog left behind, the spiced rum shots he’d taken warming his limbs.

The trial had been grueling.

No one could’ve prepared him for the way the legal system chewed him up and spat him out each time he entered the courtroom and sat on the opposite side of the room, avoiding his parents’ cold glares.

He shouldn’t have had to testify against them in the first place, but who else were they going to call to the stand? Keiki? She could barely write her own name, let alone understand her rights.

And she shouldn’t have to see her parents – hell, her whole family – being scrutinized and ripped apart, televised for anyone within a thousand mile radius.

He didn’t know that this town was their escape.

If someone would’ve told him two years ago that his first Christmas in college would’ve left him in shambles, his entire world upturned, he wouldn’t have believed them.

Thank god it was one of the only properties they owned that was untouched by their blood money.

Word had spread to his university students, causing him to have to go into hiding. Did all his work from home, got special permission from the chancellor to move his courses online.

He was forced to stay in Hawaii, juggling court and school on top of the press and the general stress of life – he’d been on autopilot since his parents woke him up in the middle of the night to fly back home.

The moment he finished his finals that semester, he boarded the plane without a second thought.

He needed an escape.

Despite the whirlwind, she was on the back of his mind through it all.

Anytime his life got a little too difficult, his mind roamed to the last time he felt normal – the last 48 hours before everything went to shit.

When he’d touched down he’d entered the empty, dusty house, throwing his things down and trudging next door.

The heavy raps of his knuckles against the wooden door were the only display of confidence he could muster.

Is Spencer here? He asked.

She’s in Europe for break.

Europe.

Of all the places she had to be during the holidays, it had to be across the world.

So he found himself at the bar, a newly 21 year old downing holiday drinks as fast as the bartender could make them.

She’d probably forgotten about him. It’s best he moved on anyways.

––––

year four

Graduation was so close she could taste it.

Yeah, she was drowning in med school applications and coming down from her post MCAT high, but her degree was peeking over the horizon, just within her reach.

She could only afford to visit home for a couple days before she had to roadtrip to a couple med schools to tour and interview.

She’d grown into herself the past three years, gaining confidence she didn’t know she had in her. Countless haircuts, style changes, shifts in interest – anytime she was uncomfortable she reinvented herself. It was freeing as hell.

So… going home was weird. Like she was regressing. She knew she wasn’t, but it didn’t stop the itching feeling that she didn’t belong there.

Her parents convinced her to visit for the holidays since it was her last year before she was truly on her own. The car ride was anxiety inducing – she tried to shove the thoughts to the back of her brain.

It’d been three years. She couldn’t dwell on it anymore. It was just a fun weekend, a spontaneous date, a gorgeous guy. Nothing more than that.

She’d moved on for sure – lots of dates, sloppy bar makeouts, and one night stands – but she couldn’t completely forget about the stranger.

It wasn’t like anything super memorable happened – it was a classic crush because of how confident he was.

Now that she’d started to emulate that same confidence herself, the allure was mostly gone, but she just couldn’t let him go no matter how hard she tried.

This time her eyes flickered to the house next door, gaze lingering a bit longer than she wanted to allow herself to look.

At least on paper she was growing.

–––––

Her first dinner at home was the same as always. She spent most of the time dodging intrusive questions and diplomatically answering as well as she could.

Maybe she should’ve thanked her parents for pressuring her to come home – it was perfect interview preparation and she didn’t have to lift a finger.

Her room was untouched as usual, the decor nauseatingly basic – if she hated it before, she hated it more now.

The suburban life was even farther away from what she’d wanted three years ago. Fast paced city life and a job in a world renowned hospital were her only two goals as far as she was concerned. Anything else could wait.

As she unpacked her toiletries, she found herself glancing at the door to her balcony.

She shook it off, choosing to settle in bed with a warm blanket with her laptop and planner, trying to focus on her diploma application.

––––

She jolted awake, scrubbing the sleeve of her jacket across her cheek, grimacing when she saw streaks of drool on the fabric.

She shuddered a bit, realizing she fell asleep on top of the covers, the room’s temperature absolutely freezing.

The space heater was close by, luckily, so she didn’t have to shuffle far to plug it in, crouching down next to it to rub her hands in front of it.

The window to her balcony was cracked just slightly – it’d probably blown open bc of the wind or something. She pushed herself to her feet again, closing and locking the door, but not before catching a glimpse of a light. It wasn’t a streetlight. It was a porch light.

She flung the door open and stepped onto the balcony, ignoring the snow seeping through her fuzzy socks, numbing her toes.

Bryce’s lights were on, and fresh tire tracks trailed up the driveway to the garage.

––––

She tossed and turned that night, a little glad that she’d gotten at least some sleep in the form of a nap.

She gave up after a while, brewing coffee and sitting in the kitchen with her laptop for a couple of hours before her parents awoke.

When they finally woke up, she practically jumped at the chance to ask them about him.

“No one’s lived next door for years. Someone comes and checks up on it once or twice a year, but other than that, it’s vacant,” her mother said, elbows deep in a sink full of dirty plates.

She was thankful her mom was preoccupied so she wouldn’t see her deflate.

––––

Spencer allowed herself approximately thirty minutes of sulking before she made a to-do list of everything she needed to get done before noon.

She’d been home for less than a day and she was already itching to get out.

The drive from her parents’ house to the tiny coffee shop was short, the handful of tables inside bare. She guessed it was because most people were at home enjoying spending time with family – she was the odd one out for having her planner and laptop splayed across the table.

She was neck deep in a chem textbook when she saw him.

He was more chiseled. Taller, too.

The beanie was tugged tight around his head, cheeks flushed. The quarter zip up fit him like a glove, hugging every single muscle.

He slipped his gloves off, tucking them into his pocket, squinting – probably trying to decipher the inane pun names for each drink.

“Can I get a, uh, latte with a couple espresso shots?” She heard him ask, peeking over the top of her textbook, trying to get a good look at him.

He chuckled pretty suddenly, pointing at the clear display of pastries. “Add one of those little things onto it.”

“You mean the ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’ cake pop or the ‘Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, sir?” The teen said.

His grin stretched even wider, hunching over to read the labels. “Can you tell me the rest of the flavors?”

“Well, we’ve got the full setup of reindeers. It gets pretty confusing at times – ’Dasher & Dancer Dark Chocolate’, ‘Prancer & Vixen Vanilla’, ‘Comet & Cupid Cheesecake’, ‘Donner & Blitzen Berry’, and ‘Rudolph Red Velvet’,” the teen listed off, pointing at the nearly identical cake pops.

He laughed, booming throughout the small room, ringing out even over the blenders.

Yeah, that was Bryce. No doubt about it.

“Give me one of each,” he said, handing the teen a couple bills. While they counted the change, Bryce tossed a $20 bill onto the counter. “This is compensation for having to read those god awful names.”

They mirrored his expression, pocketing the bill.

Spencer was nearly frozen with fear – she didn’t think she was going to run into him. She looked frumpy and felt exhausted, and was a little frustrated at how little she understood from the passages she’d tried deciphering.

She stood up, then sat down immediately. She stood up again, conflicted.

But before she could decide what to do, he turned, coffee in hand, bag of cake pops in the other – one cake pop tucked deep into his cheek.

She saw him.

He saw her.

Time slowed.

She was grateful that he was the first to move towards her, eyes bright, gaze soft like he’d seen an old friend – God, that reaction alone was enough to make Spencer float above the clouds.

He chewed his cake pop on the way over, setting down his bag and coffee near the edge of the table out of the way of her mess.

“Hey,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food, chewing vigorously.

“Bryce, oh my god, I – I thought I’d never see you again – you just disappeared and –”

He held up a hand, swallowing. “What’d you say?”

“Oh, I said that I thought I’d never see you again –”

“Wait, wait,” he flipped the side of his beanie up, revealing wireless headphones, which he tugged out and immediately pocketed.

Christ. Embarrassing. Her cheeks burned, inwardly cringing. This is going so swimmingly, Spencer.

He shook his head incredulously, mouth moving like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“I… didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, eyes slowly raking over her features.

“Oh my god, I didn’t think I’d see you, Bryce,” she said, nervously adjusting her glasses. Good thing he didn’t notice her recycling sentiments.

“So… how have you been?” He smiled, taking a sip of his latte.

He was playing this way cooler than she was. How was he not freaking the fuck out?

“I’ve been good. Uh, good and kinda busy I guess. I’m waiting to hear back from a couple of med schools and I’m graduating this spring, so I’m excited about that,” she said, trying and failing to figure out how to condense three years worth of personal growth into a couple sentences without boring him to tears. “What about you?”

He nodded, tipping back the steaming latte again. “I’ve been pretty good. Got into my dream med school and it’s, like, across the country from where I am now, so that’ll be good for me. Fresh start, you know?”

She gave him a slight smile, closing her textbook and stacking her planner on top of it.

“Oh, I was just picking this stuff up, so I can let you get back to studying,” he said, unsure, jabbing his thumb towards the door.

“No, no, I was closing it so I can give you my full attention,” she explained, shaking her head. “Just getting some random stuff done. I’m fine.”

He relaxed a bit more at that, settling into his seat like he was at home. “So… what are you working on?”

“I’m getting some last stuff done before I leave this weekend. Just some basic housekeeping. Ironing out details, you know,” she nodded, fiddling with the frayed hole on the hem of her hoodie.

He was trying to jump back in like everything was… normal. This wasn’t normal.

“Oh you’re leaving?” He seemed disappointed, a wrinkle forming between his brows where he pushed them together.

“Yeah, I’m using part of my break to fit in some last minute tours and interviews.”

“Oh… Well if you’re leaving soon, do you wanna do dinner at my place tonight?” He asked. “I feel like we’d be more comfortable catching up there.”

A… date? After all these years? And he still knows literally nothing about me?

––––

She chewed her lip, trying to hold back a smile.

His pulse raced, wondering if she’d reject him. He should’ve thought it through before blurting out a question like that. He’d spoken to her for all of five minutes and he was already asking her to go back to his place.

“So… is this a date?”

The mischievous look on her face was contagious – just a hint of flirtatious teasing like the first time they met.

“Yeah, but only if you want it to be,” he answered, tossing the drink back again, the liquid warming his insides (his morning run was long, and the wind was biting).

“And if I don’t?” She adjusted her glasses again, the only sign of tension amidst her otherwise calm demeanor.

And if he hadn’t ran through the memories of that night over and over, fixating on every little detail he managed to retain, he might’ve not caught it.

Her nervousness was a comfort – It meant she still liked him enough to be on edge around him.

“Then we’re just two neighbors catching up while eating food,” he shrugged, popping another cake pop in his mouth.

He held the bag out to her. “Want one?”

She peered over into the bag, lashes gently brushing her under eyes. “Will you get mad if I take Rudolph?”

God, she was so fucking pretty. He couldn’t get over it. All these years and she only managed to get hotter.

“Why would that bother me?” He mumbled through his mouth full of cake.

“He’s supposed to be special, right? I just thought you’d want him,” she said, crossing her arms on the table and leaning in more.

He sat up, leaning an elbow on the table, tipping forward to close the gap between them – he plucked the cake pop from the bag by its stick, waving it in front of her face.

She didn’t retreat. The only reaction was the color rising to her cheeks, a hint of rouge beneath the spatter of light freckles on her face – the ones that no one could see unless they were this close.

“You’re special, too, y’know,” he said, pushing the limits even more, bringing it to her lips. “Take it.”

He was egging her on, testing whatever change she’d clearly been through – underneath the confidence lurked something sultry that he desperately wanted to bring out of her.

She leaned forward and lowered her mouth around the pop, sinking her teeth into the stick, her lips grazing the tips of Bryce’s fingers.

She pulled back, chewing through a smile. “Yum.”

His stomach flipped, but he kept his poker face even.

It was odd, having this girl in front of him that he’d thought about for years when he’d convinced himself it was a fluke or a dream or a little bit of both.

They both chewed in silence, eyes still firmly locked on each other.

There was so much he needed to say but it just wasn’t the right time.

“What time should I come over?” She asked after swallowing.

“When do you usually eat dinner?”

She rolled her eyes at him, still trying to hold back a smile even though she clearly found him mildly entertaining if not infuriating as hell (which was an attitude he thrived off of).

“I don’t care, Spence. Whenever you want.”

––––

Bryce tapped his foot, adjusting the napkins and cutlery for the hundredth time before pacing towards the monitor that showed him the front door’s security cam.

He should not have told her to come over whenever. The delivery guy was stuck in traffic, so his whole plan of pretending like he cooked was thwarted by the icy roads.

He checked the delivery app for the millionth time, the time remaining still stuck on “14 minutes”.

Was a button up with slacks too much for dinner? Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been nervous before a date.

He wasn’t sure if it ever had happened before, because it didn’t happen.

He wasn’t afraid of shooting his shot with anyone. That cute guy at the gym? No hesitation. His bio lab partner sophomore year? Of course. The ex-girlfriend of the one fraternity brother he didn’t like? Yup. That one fraternity brother he really liked? Hell yeah.

There wasn’t a time that he he actually had to try to get someone to like him – his conquests weren’t really conquests. They’d always just kind of… fallen into his lap, for lack of a better phrase.

But he also couldn’t name a single person he’d “pined” for, whatever that meant. Spencer was the first girl that had slipped through his fingers – maybe this date would be closure. If she was down to fuck, maybe they’d get the weird three-year-long outstanding “what if?” question answered.

He filled the bucket with ice, neatly digging the champagne bottle’s base into it, even grabbing a rag to wipe the perspiration off the metal to buy some time.

A few more minutes passed. When he checked the app again, it’d changed to “13 minutes”, and Spencer was walking down his driveway.

Even on the grainy screen he could tell that whatever she had on was gonna drive him wild.

He strode towards the door, flinging it open to greet her.

“Hey, Spencer,” he grinned, opening his arms wide for a hug.

She matched his expression with a sweet smile of her own, slipping into his grip and molding herself against his body like she belonged there.

Fuck, she smelled delicious. Her hair, her lip gloss, her perfume – everything about her was delectable and made holding back all the more harder.

“Hey, Bryce,” she murmured, squeezing him. “It’s cold. Can we move inside?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry about that,” he apologized, pulling back but keeping his palm on her lower back, shutting and locking the door behind him.

She walked into the main corridor, just kind of… observing. Taking everything in.

“Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh’?” He asked, glancing down at her discreetly.

“It’s… nice. I can tell it’s your parents’ house.”

He chuckled, surprised. “Yeah, but what is that supposed to mean?”

“None of your personality is in this house. I figured it’d be brighter. Less marble, too,” she said, gesturing towards the decorations straight from a catalogue sprinkled throughout the house.

He couldn’t help that his parents insisted on flying out their personal interior designer to every house they owned. But it didn’t make it any less cringe worthy.

“No, you’re right,” he nodded, shrugging. “Can’t argue with that.”

He gently steered them towards the kitchen, his eyes flitting towards her as she scanned the house, a pleasant enough look on her face.

“What would you change about this house?” She asked, sliding onto one of the never-been-used barstools.

“Well, for one, I wouldn’t even have it in the first place,” he said, opening the cabinet next to the fridge, retrieving the champagne glasses.

“Really?”

“Really. If I had it my way, we would’ve never left Maui.”

She nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Setting the glasses down in front of her, he stood on the other side of the counter, grabbing the bottle by its neck, unravelling the wrapping on the outside. “Hope this is alright. I just picked a bottle that looked expensive.”

“Expensive doesn’t mean better,” she said, eyes trained on the bottle, probably trying to read the label.

“You’re right, again. Two for two,” he joked, sliding the cork from the opening with a loud “pop”, the sound ricocheting off the walls and flooring.

After pouring it, he cocked his head her way, encouraging her to take the first sip.

She tipped the glass back, her nose scrunching after taking a deep swallow. “Mmmm. I would’ve settled for the shitty boxed wine I drank in college over this.”

He took a sip and shook his head, sticking his tongue out with a grimace. “Yeah, this tastes like ass.”

She snorted, covering her mouth as she laughed, making a breathy choking sound that he found oddly endearing.

“To answer your question, I’d probably paint the walls yellow. Hang up my grandpa’s old surfboard my dad passed down to me, if I can even find it. Maybe some movie posters,” he continued, gesturing towards the deadspace on the walls in the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I pictured, too,” she hummed, shivering after downing the rest of the glass.

“You don’t have to drink anymore. We agreed it tastes like shit,” he walked over to the cabinet, browsing the bottles, nearly empty. “I only have… a little bit of tequila and some rum.”

“I’ll take a rum and coke then,” she smiled gratefully, pushing the empty glass to the side.

While making the drinks, he checked his phone, hoping that the driver was close by. No luck – the time hadn’t shifted.

“So… when’s the delivery guy getting here?”

He could sense her behind him. When he turned to offer her a glass, he realized just how close she was.

She accepted the glass, craning her neck around him to look at his phone’s screen. “I knew it.”

“What? What’d you know?” He asked, unable to look anywhere but her plush lips, curved upwards into a grin.

She was life-ruiningly pretty. It was like God himself scanned Bryce’s brain and 3D copied his fantasies into the form of Spencer Matsuzaki, who was quite literally the girl of his dreams.

“I knew you weren’t a cooking type. I figured you were gonna get takeout, and I was right,” she pointed at his screen, the delivery app still open.

“Yeah, I was gonna try to impress you and pretend that I’d cooked everything but clearly that didn’t pan out,” he chuckled, peering down at her.

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, Bryce. I would’ve easily clocked that,” she shook her head, taking a quick sip of her drink, still standing close enough to him that he could feel her breath on him each time she laughed.

Before he dropped everything and propositioned her right there to take it to the living room, she turned on her heel and walked back towards her stool.

They sipped their drinks in silence, an air of awkwardness settling into the atmosphere – for the first time in, well, years they were completely and utterly alone.

She chewed her lip, swiping her thumb across the perspiration on the cup. “So…”

“So?”

“I feel like we have a lot of ground to cover.”

He nodded. “I guess the question now is ‘where do we start?’”

“We could just ask each other stuff and see how that goes.”

“I’ll go first – are you still single?”

A laugh ripped from her chest, bounding off the walls and floor, filling up the space with sound (one that was quickly becoming his favorite).

“That’s the first thing you ask me? After all these years?” She asked incredulously, shaking her head in awe.

He grinned. “Sounds like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Avoiding the question? Or you’re single?” He teased.

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment, no.”

“Oh, at the moment. Seems like I’ve got some competition.”

Laughing, she tipped her head back to take a deep gulp. He watched as she did, a bit envious of the glass wrapped between her fingers and the rim caught between her lips.

She was a bit more timid when she drank the hot chocolate he offered her years before, cupping it with both hands and taking soft sips, smiling shyly, like being offered a drink on a date was something she should be grateful for.

The way she held herself was different. Before, it was like she was apologetic for taking up too much space, but this version of Spencer took the world by storm – like when she walked into the room, she claimed the space as her own before anyone else could tell her differently.

Whatever miniscule reservations he had about sleeping with her were out the window before she set her glass back down.

“I’m assuming you don’t have anyone at home waiting for you if you asked me that first,” she said, bluntly, chewing on a piece of ice.

“What makes you say that?” “Well you’re obviously gauging whether or not you want to fuck me tonight so I might as well be as upfront as you,” she shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“Is that so?” He quirked a brow at her. “Would you count frequent hookups?”

“Nope. I’ve got those, too, but I don’t count ‘em.”

“So you turned out to be pretty wild, huh?”

She laughed. “I hope you realize how weird you sound. I’m not who I was at 18. Shit, and you barely even knew me then!”

He held his hands up in protest. “My bad.”

She tapped her nails on the counter, looking a bit conflicted. “No, it’s okay. Just a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.”

“Parents, huh?”

“Yep. Don’t quite approve of who I am, even though I’m literally going to be studying to be a doctor,” she rolled her eyes. “I did get pretty wild, though. I mean, I had to get it out of my system before med school, you know?”

He shrugged. “Totally understandable.”

“Speaking of, why aren’t yours here? I figured I was going to accidentally run into them or something,” she mused, crunching on another ice cube.

He tried hiding his reaction, but he couldn’t help the way he tensed up at the mere mention of them. The thought of her bringing them up crossed his mind before, so thankfully he was able to keep it moving.

“Oh, they moved back to Hawaii a while ago. Been waiting to put this house on the market but it just didn’t seem like the right time.”

“So why aren’t you with them for the holidays?”

He stiffened, racking his brain for a believable lie. There was no fucking way he was baring his soul to the girl that just stepped back into his life.

She was the last good memory he had before everything went to shit, so he couldn’t break the illusion. Spencer was too good for this – maybe too good for him.

Court baggage was a heavy load to bear. Criminal baggage was even heavier. Lying to save face was the only way he could protect them both.

“Oh, it was just cheaper for me to stay here than fly back to Hawaii.”

She nodded, seemingly in agreeance, swirling the last bit of ice around her glass before tipping it back again. “S’good you get a little peace and quiet between semesters.”

“You have no idea,” he breathed, practically sighing in relief, thankful the crisis was averted.

“I do have a question, though,” she said, setting the glass down and pushing it away from her. “Why did you leave your number on my window sill?”

He leaned over the counter, bracing his arms against it. “So you did see it.”

“You’re lucky I found it! You could not have chosen a worse place to put it.”

“Well, you used to always walk out on your balcony so I thought it’d be safe.”

She pursed her lips, seemingly holding back a smile. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, of course. Why didn’t you, you know, use the number, though?” He asked, teasing.

Her mouth popped open, looking almost offended by his words. “Oh my god, you think if I had your number we still wouldn’t have talked for three years?”

“When you put it that way, I guess it doesn’t make sense,” he laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

“No, but I can’t get over that – you thought this entire time that I just didn’t try to contact you? Bryce, you offered to kiss me before literally disappearing into the night – you thought I wouldn’t have at least, you know, tried following up on that?” Spencer was giggling in between her words, barely able to get it out of her system.

“Yeah, well, you think I didn’t want to follow up on the kiss either? I’m the one who offered!”

They were cutting up, both leaning over the counter, folded over in laughter. They’d shifted closer as they got more comfortable with each other, their arms nearly grazing each others’ over the cold granite.

God, she was so beautiful. Everything he felt when he met her three years ago was pretty much amplified. He had it bad for her.

When she noticed how close they were, her eyes flitted to his lips, tongue darting out to wet her own.

“You wanna cash in on that now? I heard that ‘Bryce Lahela Kiss Coupons’ never expire,” he said, voice low, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb over her chin.

“Bryce…” she said, closing her eyes, before leaning back to put some distance between them. “We have to lay some ground rules first.”

He sighed, standing up at his full height. “Okay, shoot.”

“I’m not trying to go all analytical on you, but we have to get this out of the way first. Tell me where your top three med schools are.”

A snort escaped him before he could stop himself. “What, do you only fuck guys that go to –”

“– And girls –”

“And girls – that go to John Hopkins?” He asked, teasing. “Me, too, by the way.”

She shook her head, ignoring his joke. “Nope. Just tell me.”

“Well, I’m looking at California, New York, and Chicago. What about you?”

“Ohio, Virginia, and Washington.”

The pieces fell into place for him. “Damn, you were playing chess and I was playing checkers, huh?”

She laughed. “No, no, I was just curious. I didn’t think we’d get as far as relationship talk, but I figured after everything we’d been through, we might as well discuss it, you know?”

��So that means this is a one-and-done type deal.”

“I guess so,” she said, scratching at her neck. “I’ve made out with plenty of people before and forgotten it, so if you want to just see how we feel, I’m down.”

“Oh, I think you’ll remember this for a while,” he said, stretching across the counter to gently cup her face in both hands, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

Their first kiss was unlike no other. What’d started out as an offhanded joke to relieve three years worth of tension quickly morphed into desperate grabbing of clothes, heavy pants, and even heavier tension crackling like a fire between them.

She fisted his collar, dragging him to her over the counter, kneeling on her bar stool and pushing herself closer and closer to him.

Bryce had his share of sloppy bar makeouts, passionate kisses amidst sex – even sweet domestic kisses during mundane tasks. But this kiss? Somehow it was a bit of everything rolled into one.

They parted pretty abruptly when he elbowed her empty champagne glass and it clattered against the counter.

“Shit,” he cursed, pulling back just a hair to check the damage.

When he turned back, she was still holding him, staring at him, a look on her face that he hadn’t seen before.

“That was…” her lids fluttered, tongue darting out to lick her lips – like she was savoring his taste.

“Really good.”

She nodded. “Insanely good.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Is it what you were dreaming of?” He teased, but there was a hint of sincerity to it.

She nodded again, her grip tightening on his collar. “I’m a little scared at how much I enjoyed it.”

“Scared? Why?” He murmured, stroking his thumb against her cheek in comfort.

“Well… this can’t happen,” she gestured between them.

“It doesn’t have to happen. We can pretend like the kiss never did, just like you said. I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

“But… what if I want it to?”

He couldn’t conceal the smirk tugging at his lips. “You wanna take this upstairs?”

She tried holding back a smile. “Maybe.”

“Well, you can think about it over dinner, whenever that gets here.”

The driver took about twenty minutes, and eating took them twenty more. Small talk was managed, jokes were cracked, but there was an unmistakable feeling in the air that both of them could sense.

Bryce was no stranger to sexual tension. Hell, he thrived on it.

Making a cute girl blush? Exhilarating. Getting a guy at the bar fund his hangover? Incredible. Those few minutes between knowing you’re going to fuck someone and actually fucking them? Couldn’t get enough.

The minute their plates were cleared, she took his hand and led him upstairs, throwing glances back at him like if she let go for a second he’d disappear.

As much as he just wanted to fool around, he couldn’t help but pocket the small details for later, just in case he decided it was alright to get emotionally invested. Despite feeling like he had a hold on the situation, he definitely didn’t.

He was a bit delusional in thinking he wasn’t already falling for her the way she was for him.

––––

[part 1.5 coming soon]

____

They’d been curled up in bed for nearly an hour and a half, just talking, every once in a while pulling the other in for another kiss that led to roaming hands.

In another life, if they’d both lived in that town and grew up there, there was no doubt they’d be best friends. High school sweethearts, even.

But she knew that whatever daydreams she’d conjured up could never be reality.

This was a one-time thing. They both knew that.

After a lull in conversation she slipped out of bed, gathering her clothes and tossing them onto the bed.

“You leaving?” He asked, sitting up.

“Uh, yeah. I think I need to get going. I’ve still got a curfew,” she shrugged, making a hand motion like she was pulling the trigger.

“Still have one? Damn, that sucks. Am I gonna get to see you tomorrow?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

He remembered her curfew?

She snapped her bra back in place, avoiding his eye as she slid on her straps. “I, um, have to leave.”

“I thought you were staying through the weekend?” He sounded taken aback, like he thought he had more time.

She slipped her underwear and pants on fast. “I have a long drive ahead of me and I kinda wanted a night to breathe before I tour and interview, you know?”

He was silent. She threw her sweater on before daring a glance at him. His eyes were trained on the mattress, refusing to look at her.

“Bryce,” she called, but he shook his head.

She sat on the mattress, tipping his chin up with her finger. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, sighing. “It’s stupid.”

“C’mon, it’s not stupid. Tell me.”

“I’m kinda regretting this being a one-time thing.”

She raked his hair back, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I am, too.”

He met her eyes again, brows furrowed. “You are?”

She nodded. “I like you. A lot.”

“So what’s stopping us? We can make it work if we try –”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, looking at the ground. “I don’t know if we can.”

“Why not?”

“The distance, first of all. And we’re going to be in different programs in different states, so there’s no way we can fully commit to school and our future if we’re trying to start a relationship and maintain it –”

“Spencer, you think I’m gonna give up that easily after all this time? I just got you back,” he said, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

“This isn’t giving up, Bryce… this is… practical. Rational,” she added, leaning into his touch. “The right thing to do.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“I know, but… I think it’s easier to move on now rather than later when we’re in too deep,” she gulped, trying to soothe the lump forming in her throat.

She knew this wasn’t gonna be easy, but she figured it’d be easier than falling for him over phone calls and video chats and sweet good morning texts and the inevitable breakup that came after.

“You sure we’re not already in it?” He asked, underneath his breath, gaze flitting to her lips.

She rolled her lips, shaking her head, trying to mask her wobbling chin.

“If you don’t want to get hurt, I get it, but I need you to know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I met you,” he said, cupping her cheeks with both hands. “And – and I never thought I’d see you again, so I don’t want to let you go without at least, you know, trying to fight for you.”

He brought her in for a deep kiss, seemingly trying to plead his case with his touch.

“Maybe we should just go our separate ways and pretend tonight didn’t happen. It might be less difficult,” she murmured after he pulled away.

“None of this will be easy for us, Spence,” he pressed their foreheads together, both of them closing their eyes.

“Honestly, I want nothing more than to be with you. I want you so badly, but I’ve got so many commitments and my career and I can’t just throw my responsibilities out the window, because I know I would – that’s what scares me,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“You’re right. I hate that you’re right.”

––––

When she slipped back into her room after saying a quick goodnight to her parents, she curled up in her bed and cried.

She didn’t want to cry – it was like her body wouldn’t let her hold it in any longer. The sobs wracked her body as if personified guilt had grabbed her by the shoulders, dug its fingers into her skin, and shook her the tears from her.

Hours later, she woke up in the middle of the night, face still puffy and irritated. As she stood up to go throw cool water on her face, she noticed something taped to her window.

His number and socials were listed in a neat bulleted list, and below it, he’d scrawled a simple note:

“If we meet again.”

––––

#playchoices #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #my fic #jade writes choices fics

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thebonerpit · 4 years ago

Text

plug me in and flip some switches [fic]

plug me in and flip some switches

Starker, 4687 words, [E], Android AU, read on Ao3 here!

A Starker Android AU/kinda-sorta Detroit: Become Human AU. Stark Industries is making androids, but somehow CyberLife has cornered the market on sex-bots. Tony decides to do some hands-on research and meets Peter, an android who is experiencing some very troubling malfunctions.

This is VERY loosely based on the D:BH world but it's mostly just a regular android AU and can be read as such. The only thing you need to know is androids have circular LEDs on their temples but otherwise look completely human.

It’s research. Pure and simple. Nothing else.

Tony repeats it like a mantra in his head as he steps through the front door of the club.

For years now he’s been competing with Kamski over at CyberLife, producing better and better android models and other technological marvels. CyberLife and Stark Industries models are commonplace now around the city, life-like bots that can do anything from mow your lawn to suck your dick.

The dick-sucking is why Tony is here, really.

As much as he hates to admit it, Kamski has the sex-bot market cornered. Tony can’t figure it out. His models are gorgeous, his patented StarkSkin is more realistic than anything that hack has come up with so far but somehow sales are pathetic next to CyberLife’s numbers. So… research. Covert research.

He’s not naïve enough to think some shoddy disguise will prevent him from being spotted, but the little device in his pocket that’s currently scrambling all the camera feeds will certainly help. He hands over his identification card to the android by the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Rhodes. Enjoy your visit.”

Yeah, about that… sorry Rhodey. Tony resolves to buy him a nice steak dinner to make up for it.

The club is clean, but tacky, at least in his opinion. Blue and purple lights give the place a strange glow and all the furniture looks expensive but uncomfortable. There are various models walking around and dancing on small stages, clothed but just barely, and a handful of human “customers” admiring the goods. He already feels like he needs a shower.

“Welcome to the Eden Club,” the android at the front desk says, her voice soothing and calm. “Would you prefer to browse our models on the floor, or in our catalogue?”

Tony isn’t particularly fond of wandering around the club aimlessly, especially with other patrons there, so he points at the screen being projected in front of him.

“Wonderful. Do you have a preference for gender?”

He shakes his head and waits to see if there’s any reaction from the android. She simply taps a few keys and the catalogue appears in front of him.

“You’ll find all of our models here. When you have selected one, press the blue button underneath their picture.”

Tony almost wants to ask her to just choose for him. It would make this whole thing less... deliberate. He glances quickly behind him to ensure no one else is there before looking through the first few pictures. A Steve model, with a gentle smile and wholesome good looks. A Natasha, who looks like she could probably kill him with a flick of her wrist. He swallows thickly and files that one away to come back to. A Bucky, a huge man with beautiful long hair and sad eyes. A Wanda, young but intense. As he swipes through the next few pages, none of them really stand out to him. What’s so damn special about these bots? He considers going back to the Natasha when he stops on one of the last photographs.

A Peter model. Tony has seen a few of the others throughout the city, but this one is new. Small and lithe, twinky, but well-muscled. The model rotates on the screen and Tony nearly chokes as his eyes fixate on what can only be described as an absolutely perfect ass encased in tight black boxer-briefs. But the face… jesus. Soft-looking waves of hair frame a gentle and innocent expression, slightly chubby cheeks contrast with a sharp little nose and jawline, and big brown eyes make him look even more frighteningly human than the others.

He presses the blue button before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Rhodes. Please follow me and I’ll take you to your private room.”

The android leads him down a long hallway lined with closed doors. Tony can’t hear any noises coming from within so he assumes there must be sound-proofing on all the rooms. The main club was too crowded for these to all be empty. She stops near the end of the hall and gestures to a door with a green light beside the handle.

“He’s ready for you. You have one hour from the time you open the door. Please remember that any damage done to the unit will be charged to your account. Enjoy your evening.”

She walks away without a second glance.

Tony exhales sharply.

“Alright. I guess this is happening.”

He opens the door and all his blood immediately rushes downward. Peter is a vision. He’s wearing nothing but those skimpy black boxer-briefs and is curled up like a cat in the middle of a huge, round bed. The sheets are dark red and the contrast against his pale skin is absolutely gorgeous. He perks up as soon as Tony walks in, skin flushing a pretty pink as he lets his eyes drag slowly up and down Tony’s body.

“Hello,” Peter says. No, not “Peter”. It’s an android. A bot. And Tony is here for research. RESEARCH.

“Uh. Hi there.”

His legs unfold gracefully as he slips off the edge of the bed to stand and extends a hand to Tony. He smiles, and Tony’s heart clenches.

“Come sit with me.”

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that,” Tony says, wondering where his higher brain functions have gone. He takes the android’s hand and allows himself to be led over to the bed where they both sit. Peter doesn’t relinquish his gentle grip, and his palm is soft and warm against Tony’s.

“Is this your first time?”

Tony snorts. “What? No! I’ve… oh, you mean here?”

Peter nods, still smiling.

“Then yeah I guess so. Like a virgin, huh?”

The android laughs softly but Tony is sure he’s just programmed to do that. Adding in knowledge of Madonna’s entire back catalogue seems like a waste of processing space.

“What would you like to start with, Mr. Rhodes?”

Oh. Right.

“Well, first of all you can call me Tony.”

The boy – BOT – frowns slightly. “I apologize, that wasn’t the name I was—”

“It’s ok,” Tony says with a wave of his hand, “it’s a… nickname. I just like it better than James. Or Mr. Rhodes. Ugh, sounds so stuffy, doesn’t it? A boring name for a boring guy.”

The smile returns and Tony feels a brief squeeze of his hand.

“I’m sure you’re not boring at all, Tony.”

Ok yeah hearing his name in that sweet little voice is kind of doing it for him. But this has nothing to do with how the bot is built, this is Tony’s own weird perversion, so he powers through it.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not really here for the usual sex stuff ok? And… god, I can’t believe I’m about to apologize to an android, but I’m sorry in advance for what I need to do to you.”

Peter’s expression doesn’t change at all, which is slightly alarming. Tony expects him to be at least a little concerned about his well-being.

“I’m capable of taking anything you want to give me, Tony,” Peter says with that same sweet smile. “Nothing will shock me. Last week a man put his whole arm up my—”

“Ok! Ok, fuck, jesus, that’s… do not finish that sentence. And aren’t you supposed to like, not remember anything from your last clients? Seems like a real breach of privacy there.”

The frown returns and Tony hates the way it makes him feel.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir. My processor was damaged recently but I’ve run multiple diagnostics and though I should be in perfect working condition I seem to be malfunctioning. I’ll call another unit in for you.” The LED on the side of his head starts flashing but Tony grabs his arm.

“No!”

The flashing immediately ceases.

“No. Peter. It’s… you’re fine. Don’t worry about it ok? You’re great. Fantastic, even!”

“Ok?” He sounds unsure.

And then Tony realizes he has stumbled into the most perfect situation he could possibly be in.

“But if you’re worried, let me take a look.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, sir, I can’t allow you to do that.”

Tony smiles and reaches up to brush a stray curl off Peter’s forehead.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m a fully licensed technician. Didn’t my profile mention…? Oh, right, it probably got all mixed up during the import just like my nickname. It isn’t your fault, Peter. But I can help.”

“It’s against club regulations,” Peter says. “Some parts of my body do open for customers who are interested in playing with my wires, but not the processor.”

“Playing with your--?”

“Fucking them. Inside. My stomach, for example, has a port. Our blue blood provides a non-toxic and natural lubricant.”

Tony is flabbergasted. He really shouldn’t be, he knows that humans are disgusting and will fuck anything they possibly can, but GOD. Maybe it’s the way Peter says it. So nonchalant, like explaining how a car motor works.

“Does that… how does that feel? For you, I mean?”

Peter bites his lip.

“I like it. It feels so good. Anything you want to do to me will feel good.”

“Of course it will,” Tony says with a sigh. His pleasure receptors must be maxed out. You could probably chop off his whole arm and he’d beg for more. “Listen kid, just let me—”

As soon as his finger gets close to the panel switch behind Peter’s ear an arm shoots up, lightning-fast, and grabs Tony’s wrist tight enough to bruise.

“Please don’t. I will call security if you try that again.”

Tony tries to wrench his arm free but it’s impossible. Fuck, he sometimes forgets how unassumingly strong these things are. Peter’s tone is serious but he still doesn’t look alarmed in any way.

“Ok, it’s alright, Peter, I won’t do it again. Now will you let go of me please?”

Peter blinks and his LED cycles to yellow for a moment before he snaps his hand back and quickly as he reached out before. Tony rubs at his wrist and raises an eyebrow at the red marks left by Peter’s fingers.

“I thought your program prevented you from harming a human? You’ve got quite a grip on you.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbled.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Please, I… I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I was just kidding around, it’s not that bad, see?” Tony waggles his wrist around in front of Peter’s face but the android isn’t pacified.

“Please let me call another model for you, sir, he’ll look just like me, I promise!”

“And what happens to you, then?”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“If I send you back and say you’re defective, what happens to you?”

“Oh. I’ll be destroyed, sir. Like I said, my processor was already damaged and the repair must not have worked. I’m a faulty model now.”

Peter actually looks upset, but he covers it well. Not well enough for Tony not to notice, of course, and the flash of red on his LED is even more telling. Androids are able to mimic human emotion but they can’t actually feel anything. However, for a brief moment, Peter seems to actually consider his own mortality.

“And you’re ok with this?”

“Of course,” he says, quickly snapping out of whatever errant deviation must have happened. “My purpose is to serve you, to pleasure you. If I can’t fulfil my purpose anymore, I should be taken out of commission so another more functional version can take my place.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. This is exactly why he never spends time with any of his own android creations. Sure, he’s fond of DUM-E and U but they’re very obviously machines and if he has to poke and prod and rebuild them he doesn’t feel particularly bad about it. But this…

“You know what? Forget all of this, ok? You still seem very capable of, uh, providing pleasure so… let’s just go with that.”

Peter lights up at Tony’s words.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He can still examine some functions without poking around in Peter’s head. And hey, maybe he’ll get a decent orgasm out of this whole awkward experience.

Peter immediately slides into Tony’s lap, long legs spread on either side of his thighs, a small bulge visible through the front of his briefs.

“Please… tell me what you like, sir.”

Tony swallows thickly. “Well, the whole ‘sir’ thing is a good start.”

Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes and smiles.

“And that sweet little innocent thing you’ve got going on? Yeah, I like that a lot too, even though it makes me feel like an old pervert.”

Peter makes a soft cooing noise and leans in to nuzzle at Tony’s neck.

“You aren’t a pervert. I bet you like taking care of people, don’t you? Making them feel good? Teaching them?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, a bit breathless.

“I want you to teach me,” he whispers directly into Tony’s ear. It makes his whole body shudder and he grips Peter’s waist hard enough that a human would probably flinch away, but Peter just moans softly.

“I guess it’s kind of pointless asking what you like, hm? You probably like everything.”

The LED flashes red again, so quickly that Tony almost misses it. Tony grasps Peter’s chin gently in his hand to bring his face back up and then holds him in place.

“What do you like, Peter?”

“I… I—”

“Be honest, sweetheart.”

Another flash of red, longer this time.

“Eat me out. Please! It feels… it feels really good,” he says, his eyes a little wild, and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life. This feels like more than just a program spitting out what it wants Tony to hear. It feels like he means it.

“Fuck, yeah, I can definitely do that. Get on your hands and knees for me sweetheart, and lose the briefs.”

Peter scrambles to comply and Tony takes the opportunity to shed all his clothing as well.

When he turns around Peter is spread out like a feast on the dark sheets. His ass, as Tony has suspected, is actually perfect. Round, plump, and practically made for Tony to bury his face in. So he does just that.

Peter gasps as Tony licks all the way from his balls to the top of his crack, one slick wet line. His skin tastes like, well, skin, although Tony still smugly maintains that his design is better. Tony spreads Peter’s cheeks with his thumbs and groans at the perfect pink hole waiting for his tongue.

“God, sweetheart, look at you. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Please,” Peter whimpers, wiggling his hips impatiently which earns him a sharp smack on one cheek.

“Be good.”

Another whimper, and Tony can feel the heat rising off Peter’s body. He reaches down in between his legs to palm at his cock, hard and dripping, and Peter jerks back against him so abruptly it nearly knocks him off the bed.

“Whoa, easy there tiger,” Tony says with a chuckle.

“S-sorry, I… it’s a lot. Your touch, it just… feels so good. So much better than anything else I’ve felt before.”

It must be a line, something a programmer thought would be attractive. ‘You’re the only one who can make me feel this way’! Yeah right. But again, Peter sounds so genuine, so completely overwhelmed… Tony shakes his head. No wonder CyberLife’s sex-bots are top of the line if this is what they’re all like.

He holds him open again and leans back down to suck and lick at that perfect hole, working all the excess saliva inside with his tongue and one thumb until Peter is practically dripping wet. He’s whining again, pushing back against Tony’s tongue like he can’t get enough.

“T-Tony, sir, I… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”

“Mmm you can hold off, can’t you? Not even inside you yet.”

“I can’t, I—”

Tony spears him open on his tongue and sucks, hard, and Peter squeals as he shoots synthetic fluid all over the sheets. Tony is… shocked, quite frankly, because Peter actually looks shocked too. Like he can’t believe he lost control. Can androids even lose control? His LED flickers wildly between blue, yellow, and red which is very disconcerting.

“Peter…”

“I’m sorry, it just felt so good, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t—”

“Shhhh, shhh, hey, calm down sweetheart, it’s ok. You did so well for me. Look how pretty you are, all flushed and pink, hm?”

“I… I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Peter considers this for a moment and then smiles shyly over his shoulder.

“I can go again, sir. As many times as you like.”

Tony smirks, and Peter gives him another hip wiggle which makes Tony bark out a short laugh.

“God. Can I keep you?”

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

“Who wouldn’t be nice to you, hm?”

“I… oh, I’m…” Peter’s brow furrows and he looks so confused. “Quentin. Quentin? His name… he hurt me. Asked them to turn on my pain receptors. I remember… why do I remember?”

Tony feels like he just got whiplash. One minute he’s hard as a rock and now he’s gathering a shaking boy in his arms and soothing him with soft kisses on his cheeks. What the hell is going on here? Why DOES he remember? All these bots should be wiped clean after every encounter. This is starting to become a very disturbing pattern. Fuck, Tony needs to see inside his head.

Peter’s LED was bright red for about a full minute but now it’s back to cool blue, and he sits up in Tony’s lap and bites his bottom lip.

“Can we keep going? I really want you to fuck me.”

Jesus. His heart can’t take much more of this. He knows it’s an absolute dick move but he thinks if he can distract Peter long enough, he might be able to get to his shutdown switch without getting his arm broken. This is going to be the only chance he has, because if he lets Peter walk out of this room he’s never going to see him again.

“We can definitely keep going sweetheart,” he says. “Want to see your face when I fuck you. Is that ok?”

Peter nods and slides out of Tony’s lap to arrange himself on the bed, letting his legs fall open. He’s still dripping wet and Tony’s dick twitches back to life as he watches him press two slender fingers inside himself.

“Please,” he begs, and god, how could anyone say no to those beautiful doe eyes staring up at them?

Tony knows that all of these bots are self-lubricating, and that you could fuck them without any prep whatsoever, but he still takes his time as he shuffles up in between Peter’s legs and presses the head of his cock against his hole. Peter opens for him beautifully, hot and wet and warm inside as Tony pushes in slowly. It feels frighteningly real – better than real – and Tony can see why there’s a population crisis on the horizon because everyone just wants to fuck androids instead of making babies with another human being. Right now he can’t really bring himself to care.

Peter whines and wraps his legs around Tony’s waist, pulling him in until he’s fully sheathed inside him.

“O-oh, Tony, feels… feels so good, so full,” he breathes. God, his legs are even shaking. Tony leans down and presses a biting kiss against the soft skin of his neck.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he whispers, and pulls out almost all the way only to shove back inside with enough force to jostle Peter up the bed. His eyes snap open and his pretty pink mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ as Tony fucks him, hard. Listen, he’s not going to pretend like he’s ever been a slow and sensitive lover. He likes it rough and fast and Peter can take it so he gives him everything he’s got. There are fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull him even closer, and Tony growls as he tightens his grip on Peter’s hip with one hand and his neck with the other.

“Gonna come inside you,” he says, already edging towards his orgasm, “gonna fill this sweet little ass up. You want that, hm? Tell me, Peter.”

“Want it, want it, oh please Tony, please! You feel—feel so good, wanna come with you!”

Tony’s struggling to hold on as he slides his finger up behind Peter’s ear in the guise of stroking his cheek and hair. He grips that silky hair tightly for a moment and Peter yelps. The distraction allows him to slide the panel open with his pinky, and the switch is right there.

Peter grabs his other hand a for a moment he thinks he’s been caught. His grip is like a vise and he clearly has something in mind as he brings Tony’s hand over to… oh, fuck. The port. The port on his stomach is open. Tony doesn’t know if he did it by accident when he opened the one behind his ear, or if Peter did it, but Peter’s forcing his fingers inside and whimpering and groaning and Tony is powerless to stop him, even if he wants to. He feels warm, as warm as he is where Tony is still thrusting inside, but Tony’s fingers are brushing against wires and tubes instead of soft skin. He plucks at the edge of a wire and Peter does a full-body shudder.

“Right there,” he croaks out. His voice modulator is kind of fucked up and keeps emitting this weird hissing noise that sounds like he’s gasping for breath.

The blue “blood” inside him is as slippery as lube and Tony struggles to grab the right wire again. The squelching noise of him digging around plus the wet slap of his hips is so filthy and it’s hitting every single one of his buttons. Finally he gets it and god, the noises that Peter makes… The option to buy a recording of your session seemed ludicrous up until this exact moment because fuck, he could jerk off to these noises over and over again. And yeah, maybe Peter wasn’t lying when he said this feels good for him because he’s writhing underneath Tony like he can barely handle the sensation.

“Yeah, come on sweetheart, come on, let me hear you,” Tony gasps, and nearly whites out as he topples over the edge and empties himself inside Peter, the simulated muscles squeezing and milking out every last drop. The sensation must hit Peter moments later because he seizes up so suddenly Tony worries he might have broken him.

Peter screams, his voice modulator crackling and cutting out as he comes, shaking and emitting a worrying amount of heat, and as soon as his cock spits out the last bit of fluid, Tony presses the switch.

He immediately goes limp. His arms flop back down on the bed and legs splay out at odd angles. His eyes are still wide open, and his lips are wet with Tony’s spit.

“Fuck,” Tony whispers. “Fuck!”

He pushes himself back, sliding out of Peter’s body with a filthy wet noise. If he wasn’t going soft already the picture before him would have killed his erection immediately. It looks like… fuck, it looks like he’s dead.

“Not dead,” Tony says to himself, “not human. Not human, so not dead. Pull it together!”

He only has 15 minutes left before his time is up and someone will undoubtedly come to investigate. If he’s going to do this, he has to work fast. He quickly pulls his briefs and pants back on, leaving the shirt for the time being, and unfolds the nanotech device he had hidden in his watch. It’s a rudimentary scanner with some tools, nothing too elaborate but the best thing he could sneak in. It also has a docking port to connect to the android’s processor for scanning and downloading.

Tony climbs back on the bed and sits beside Peter’s head. His eyes still stare blankly ahead and even though he knows it’s ridiculous, Tony reaches down and gently closes his eyelids.

“Sorry kid,” he says quietly. “I promise you won’t remember any of this. I promise you won’t remember me.”

He plugs a line into Peter’s processor and connects it to his device and watches as numbers and data stream through. At first it seems pretty normal, nothing too different from how Tony’s own line of androids are programmed. Peter’s pleasure receptors were turned up, as expected, but not to the level where he should have been reacting… like he did. Tony’s traitorous cock twitches at the memory of his moans when he pushed inside that open port. His fingers are still covered in blue slick and he wipes them on his pants, already feeling disgusted with himself.

He can see where Peter’s processor has been damaged and—

“My god,” Tony says, his eyes widening as he takes in what he’s actually looking at. Most androids – his and CyberLife’s alike – were really just fancy VIs. They had built-in programming and while they could learn certain things, like their owner’s personal preferences or their chosen name, they were still limited by whatever parameters were set. A maintenance bot wouldn’t know how to do a child-care bot’s job and vice-versa. But this… Peter… was different. His brain showed new pathways that weren’t created by his original program. Most were damaged, likely from being reset and overwritten countless times, but Tony could still see the evidence.

“No wonder you were all messed up, sweetheart,” Tony says quietly. “They lobotomized you.”

Granted, the staff at the Eden Club probably had no fucking clue what they were dealing with. They just saw a malfunctioning bot and did factory reset after factory reset while Peter was desperately trying to cling on to whatever he had previously learned.

It makes Tony’s stomach hurt.

He sits in silence and watches the data stream for a while, gently stroking Peter’s hair. It’s incredible. He’s incredible.

And then Tony makes a really, really stupid decision.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he states. In about 30 seconds he has a blueprint of the club up on his screen and Peter wrapped up in his shirt. He calls Happy and tells him to bring the car around the back and manages to hoist Peter up over his shoulder, groaning softly from the weight.

“You’re a lot heavier than you look, gorgeous,” he says, voice strained from the effort. A quick glance down the hallway shows he’s alone, and his scrambler should still be functional, so he darts out and makes a beeline for the storage room. He slips inside and closes the door softly behind him.

“Ok,” he whispers to himself, “there should be an exit right over…”

He nearly drops Peter right on his head but manages to catch him before he hits the ground, and then he freezes. The room is filled with androids. They’re lined up like mannequins, all staring blankly ahead. All of them look like Peter.

“Jesus. Fuck.”

They’re all powered down, but the visual of it is literally staggering.

“How many… how many of you are like him?” Tony asks aloud, as if he’s hoping some of them will answer, will follow him home too. But of course they don’t. And Tony doesn’t have time to check every single one to see if the same deviation is present. He squeezes tighter around Peter’s waist.

“If you’re in there, I’ll come back for you,” he says. “If I figure this out… WHEN I figure this out. I’ll come back.”

He feels like he owes it to Peter to make that promise.

A shout from down the hall makes him snap out of his stupor and he races to the exit. Happy is waiting with the car door open and he practically tosses Peter inside, yelling for Happy to step on it, and they’re gone before security even reaches the back door.

#starker #starker fic #tony x peter #tbpwrites #nff #android au #i would do more in this 'verse just to get in some more wireplay lol

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maybebanks · 4 years ago

Text

Kook Princess

Your a kook, with a past w JJ. But now, you’re dating Rafe, and JJ sees he’s not right for you.

“I can handle my shit, Y/n! I don’t need you all up in my shit! I got it handled,”

“You promised,” you deadpanned.

“That’s life babe! We break promises all the time,”

“Are you hearing yourself? God!” You exclaim, Rafe responds with a sharp breath, and running his hands through his tightly combed hair, “I saw the fucking texts in your phone,”

“Chill yourself Y/n. The boys and I just want to have fun tonight,” Rafe defends.

“You’re sick,” you insult.

“Hey, c’mon! What’s a pretty face gonna do without her boyfriend? You need me Y/n,”

“Whatever. I stand by my previous statement,” you settled with.

You turned foreward to walk away, and he grabbed your arm, tightly. His fingers pursed into your skin.

You pulled back. But his grip didn’t faulter.

“Let go, psycho!” You demanded.

“You are not telling my dad about the coke. Do you hear me?”

“Rafe let go,” you pleaded.

“Don’t make me..don’t make me do something I’ll regret,” he said shaking his head.

“You fucking bastard,” you scoffed. Rafe was trying to take you home. You were at his house, he did some lines, after he told you he would quit coke. And he was trying to force you on his bike.

You kneeded him in the balls just to get away, and knocked over his bike, just to distract him.

“Get back here, bitch,” he grunted. But then he fell to the gravel, groaning in pain.

You ran towards the entrance to the house, maybe planning on telling Ward, just looking for help from anyone. Your heart beated rapidly.

You flinched when you heard Rafe shout in anger.

You ran farther away, when you saw JJ. He was working on a car, fixing it up, or doing whatever pogues do.

But he was brawny, and added bonus, Rafe hated him, so you decided he could help you.

You approached him hesitantly. You had a strange past with JJ.

You met him at the cove while surfing, he taught you some of your best moves. And you got along with him better than anyone else. But then, at a kegger, he found out you were a kook, and he stopped showing up at your surf spot.

You were still kind to him, waving and such. But Rafe called it cheating, so you distanced.

You cleared your throat, “Hi. Um..this is going to sound weird, but..uh can you please help me out? I just...” you didn’t want to admit you were scared of your own boyfriend.

“A little busy, princess,” he answers, without looking at you. He was working under the hood of the car. Your hands shook impatiently.

“JJ. Come on, you’re really the only one that help me. Fuck...I need you-“ you stopped yourself when Rafe called your name.

“Shit,” you whispered, an uneasy tone taking over your voice.

“This about him?” JJ asked, finally turning his attention to you.

You shifted nervously, “Uh...you know what, just forget it. It’s cool,” you lied, but tried to sound convincing.

JJ wipes his hands on a rag to get the oil off his hands.

“Y/n!!” Rafe shouted again. You tensed again. And then your eyes fell to your arms.

Red finger marks traced them, bruises only beginning to form. Instantly you covered them from JJ and gave him a shy smile.

“Nice to uh..see you again,” you said, stepping backwards to return to Rafe.

“Hold up. Are you sure you’re okay?” He pressed, making your heart clench.

You only nodded and saluted him, then returning to Rafe in the walk way.

“Rafe...I’m sorry. I won’t tell your dad-“ Rafe continued to charge towards you until he finally was inches away.

Your words did nothing against him and he swung his hand to collide with your cheek. A slap echoed off the house and you but your lip as your head turned.

“Ever pull a stunt like that again, things will be a lot fucking worse for you,” Rafe seethes.

You couldn’t meet his eyes, you just stared at the dirt, trying to forget the current sting.

Rafe scoffed, then he grabbed your chin and forced it towards him. He pressed his lips roughly against yours, you didn’t kiss back.

He didn’t let go as you continued to push against his shoulders.

“Rafe! Leave the poor girl alone! Maybe pick on someone your own size,” JJ ordered from 15 feet away.

You felt relieved but also afraid.

“Yo...what’s up Pogue? Get tired of mowing my lawn?”

You stiffened, Rafe changed his grip to your hip. He was angry and territorial.

“Nah, I just think you should leave Y/n alone. She’s clearly not enjoying it,” JJ said.

At this, Rafe moved his hand lower down your body and groped your ass, you tried to remain unfazed. JJ’s jaw clenched at the sight.

“And who the fuck are you? This is my bitch, so back the fuck off before I cave your face in,”

“Take one more step, and I’ll rip that prepubescent face off,” JJ threatenes.

You studied the situation and reacted quickly. If JJ got in a fight with Rafe, JJ would get the punishment. Even if it was to protect you.

“Hey, Rafe lets just go,” you pleaded, placing a hand on his chest.

Rafe turned his attention to you. He gave you a dirty look, “are you protecting this low life? You know what? Fuck you too Y/n!” He added, shoving you back. You didn’t fall over, but you were taken aback.

“Tell him what he is, Y/n!” Rafe demanded, grabbing your waist and pushing you infront of him, towards JJ.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking ab-about,” you stammered. You were breathing heavy.

JJ had an unreadable look on his face.

“Tell. Him.” Rafe sneered.

You looked at JJ, and sent him an apologetic look, “he’s...he’s a Pogue, a lowlife,” you answered Rafe. You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t care about a persons finiancial position. But Rafe controlled you.

JJ furrowed his eyebrows.

Rafe nodded, with a sick smile on his face. He had won.

An unstettling feeling stays in your stomach.

“Let’s get out of here, babe.” Rafe says, roughly nudging you with him.

“Actually, I have to borrow a top from Sarah. For-for the party,” you say.

“I’ll see you at the party tonight,” he kissed you on the cheek, “but if you so much as exchange words with this bottom feeder again? You’ll regret it,” he whispered. You tensed but tried to stay strong.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He nodded and insulted JJ a few times, then revived the engine of his bike and drove away.

You walked a few steps towards the house, but couldn’t resist.

“Hey, JJ?” You asked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I don’t care about Kooks versus Pogues,” you admit.

JJ raises an eyebrow.

“And-and I know that’s easy to say when I’m a kook, but...I just wanted to apologize, for what I said, and Rafe,” you admitted.

JJ folded his arms over his chest, he eyed you up and down for a moment. You were very sun kissed and had a few cute freckles decorating your face. Your hair was down, flowing effortlessly, and your top hugged your curves perfectly.

He hated to admit it, with everything in his core, but you were so damn attractive.

JJ was taller than you, and in that moment of silence you felt like he was looking down on you, like you were weak.

Your eyes stung, shit, that meant tears, you’d look even more helpless.

“He do all that?” JJ said, gesturing towards your scratches and bruises on your arms.

Quickly you hid them behind your back.

“It was an accident,” you responded.

JJ took a step closer, “he told you not to talk to me. That seems pretty controlling, don’t you think?”

You took it the wrong way, “Shit, JJ, you’re not gonna tell him, are you?” You said, your heart rate picking up.

“No. Hey, calm down. I’m not a snitch. Plus, if Rafe’s gonna hurt you for talking to me-“

“He’s not always like that. He just gets...when he’s high...he didn’t mean to hurt me,” you tell him.

“Is this the first time?” JJ asked, grabbing your arm gently and examining the damage.

You yanked your arm away, “none of your business,” you said.

“I’ll take that as a no,” JJ muttered.

You punched him on the chest, he didn’t seem fazed, “hey, whoa! What did I do?”

“I’m not...it’s not like that! He’s fine! I’m fine,” you say, your voice cracks slightly, a familiar stinging in your eyes returning.

You’ve always had fire, when people tried to help you you pushed them away, it was something you’ve always done. You didn’t want to need help. Protection was fine every once in a while. But not like this.

“Then what is it like, y/n? Because I saw you, when he forced you to say that shit? You were scared,” JJ stated.

“No I wasn’t,” you deadpanned.

“Seriously, y/n? You want to stay with that piece of shit? After what he’s done to you?!”

“It’s just a scratch, JJ, I can handle it,” you said.

“I’m not talking about that,” JJ says.

Your heart drops, what else does he know?

“I’m sorry you had do see that JJ. But my relationship is none of your business,”

“Fine,” he surrenders, putting his hands up in defense.

He begins walking away. No doubt returning to the work he’s being paid for.

“Wait! Actually...okay, look. You’re right. I am scared. And I hate to admit that but I am. There’s nothing I can do about that. Except... I mean except you. Maybe your could help-“

“Help you? With Rafe? Not gonna happen buddy,” JJ responds.

“Please JJ!” You begged, “there’s this party. Tonight. Maybe you heard? Shits gonna go down for me. And I need someone by my side,” you said, giving him a sad look.

“What’s gonna happen at some party? If I go, I’ll just make kooks more mad. Especially your boy Rafe,” JJ explains.

You looked at JJ, you remembered he was stubborn. So you scoffed. He wouldn’t help you without more convincing. You fought tears.

“Forget it, JJ,” and besides, you didn’t want to tell him what you found out about Rafe, the texts you saw on his phone. The reason you didn’t want to go to the party.

“Now hold on,” JJ added, you smirked at his persistence, “what’s gonna happen at this party?”

You sighed, now that the moment was here, you didn’t know if you could say the actual words.

“Rafe is in deep shit with this drug dealer. If he doesn’t supply cash by tonight, he’s going to find another way to get it,” you explain.

JJ gives you a confused look, as if he’s not following.

“Me.”

“So he’s going to steal from you? Can’t he just steal from his rich kook dad?” JJ asks, gesturing towards the house.

“No. He’s not going to steal from me,” you paused, breaking eye contact, “Rafe said that he would let all his friends bang me if he could get the money for coke. JJ, I don’t know what to do. I have to go to this party tonight for Sarah. And appearances....”

“Jesus Y/n. What have you gotten yourself into...” JJ sighed. He didn’t know kook life could be like that. He didn’t know what to say. Not wanting to come off that he cared for you more than Rafe ever would.

“I just need you to accompany me to the party. Please?” You asked.

“Fuck appearances! No way am I letting you even step foot at that party,” JJ exclaims. His eyes dart from you to the ground. Perhaps he thought he over stepped.

But even when it was just you and him surfing, he always wanted to protect you.

“Well then I’m sorry for asking,” you say sarcastically.

He gives you a weird look.

“You don’t understand!” You retaliated.

...

“I don’t understand!” You said exasperatedly.

You couldn’t do the trick. JJ made it look so easy.

He tried to give you some pointers, but you just couldn’t seem to have a good enough grip on your surf board.

You tried to give I’m a frustrated pout look. But he just chuckled, his laugh echoing from a soft rumble in his chest. You smiled in response, you couldn’t help it.

“Let me show you, princess,” JJ groaned sarcastically, “let’s get on the sand, yeah?”

You nodded, heading to shore would help keep your balance so Jj could adjust your form.

Once you made it back. You stood on the board. JJ caught you when you fall. You got lost in his eyes a few times, but you both were amazing at playing it off.

“Why is your back bending like that? You’ll get more balance if you...” JJ’s chilled hand met your back. His metal rings could be detected.

“Ah!” You screamed gently and flinched at the sudden cold. JJ knew you would fall again to he desperately tried to support you but you fell foreward. JJ’s hand tangled it your bikini top, and his fingers undid the loose tie.

JJ, was in utter shock at what he had done. So he didn’t have time to stabilize you, and you and him fell on the sand.

You held your hands to your chest.

“JJ you asshole!!” You exclaimed, but you knew he didn’t do it on purpose.

“Oops,” JJ said.

Your top was hanging off, while your hands were over your boobs.

You couldn’t exactly get up off the sand, in your current condition.

“Uhm, let me..help you,” JJ insisted. His hands gripped your waist and he pulled you up to your feet. Before your could admire his strength he quickly grabbed a shirt from his bag and handed it to you.

You eyed him as he held it out for you, “how am I suppose to-“

But when he realized, he cut you off, by pulling the shirt over your head himself.

When the shirt went over your head you felt him so close to you. His smell was everything. His identity. And his actions today made you feel in love with his accidental mischief.

...

“This is serious shit, Y/n,” JJ continued.

You frowned. You never did fully know the reason why JJ abandoned you. You were close. At least for the 2-3 weeks you knew him.

...

“You could’ve just helped me tie it. But I like this better,” you said, now untying the bikini off of you. You held it to the side. JJ blushed, but said it was just sun burn.

“You wanna head out?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, the waves are down anyway. Could we..maybe go back to your place?” You asked. Knowing that it wasn’t polite to invite yourself over. But you couldnt go home.

That day, your parents and the Cameron family had arranged a mutually beneficial arrangement, for you and Rafe to get close.

You didn’t want to. You liked the boy standing infront of you.

“Uh..my place? Nah it’s uh my house is a disaster. Not really a hang out joint,” JJ shrugged.

You bit your lip, feeling rejected.

“But I keep my surf board at John B’s. We should head there,” JJ offered, picking up his board with ease.

You nodded and smiled at his goofy grin.

“Yeah let me just pick up my stuff, a little back there,” you pointed towards the bench.

JJ nodded, instead of coming with you. He started to pick up your surf board. Trying to help you out but also impress you.

When you weren’t too far away from JJ, your breath hitched in your throat when you saw Rafe and his two buddies approaching you. They were too close to run away.

“Hi boys,” you said slowly.

“Y/n...my parents were wondering where you ran off to,” he smirked, touching your shoulder.

You shrugged him off gently, “Rafe I can’t right now,”

“Can’t what? Who’s shirt is that? Looks like a boy’s, not certain it’s kook style,” he suggested. Topper laughed behind him.

“I’m just..I’m borrowing it,” you said, backing away, hoping they wouldn’t make a scene.

“What are you scared of me or something?” Rafe said, he noticed your closed off demeanor. And was offended by it.

“No...” you answered. Your voice was slightly shaking, you mentally scolded yourself.

They were unconvinced, “alright babe. I’ll give you some time to think. And surf,” he said it as of surfing was uncivilized, it wasn’t a kook sport.

He stepped closer to you and kissed your cheek.

Your breathing was a little off. But not super noticeable.

“See ya, babe,” Rafe winked and he gestured for his group to leave.

You watched in silence as he got in his white porche and sped off.

You sighed when he left, but just as you turn around, JJ was there, looking lost, confused, and angry.

“JJ what-“

“What the hell was that? Is he you’re boyfriend or something?”

“I..I don’t know.”

JJ scoffed, he paused for a minute, almost holding back what he was trying to say, “where do you live, Y/n?” JJ asked suddenly.

“Why?” You asked, confused.

“Answer my damn question,” he said as he let go of your surf board and it tossed into the sand.

“Uh...north of here? I don’t know. Why are you asking me-“

“Figure eight?” JJ questioned in disbelief.

“Um yeah. I guess. Why does it matter where I live?”

JJ looked to the left, “look. I’m sorry Y/n. But I got to go,”

He stepped back and turned away. Heading towards the south side. You knew he lived on the cut, probably because he was not as rich. But you don’t care, so why did he.

Your mouth was dry. You were too confused to ask questions. You were knew to the outer banks and didn’t know the kooks vs pogues dynamic ran deep. And later, you just assumed that was the reason why JJ ditched you.

...

“You zoned out for a second, are you okay?” JJ cleared his throat.

“Yeah. I’m all good. And anyway. I miss you..a lot JJ,” you admit. Stepping back to look up at him.

“Uh yeah. We had fun didn’t we,” JJ said scratching the back of his neck.

“I still have your shirt. I never got the chance..to give it back,” you mention.

JJ frowns, “what..uh are you going to do about this party?”

“Maybe I won’t go,” you suggest.

“But if you don’t Rafe will come after you. He’s not the kind to just let you be,”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his word choice, “is that supposed to mean something?”

JJ looked nervous, which was a look you’ve never seen on him before.

“We can’t talk here,” JJ said, “lets go to my place,” JJ said quickly.

You felt reluctant, “huh, so it takes this situation for you to invite me to your house? Wow,” you rolled your eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“No, no, by all means lead the way. I just think it’s weird that your inviting me to your house. When before you were so quick to deny,”

“You don’t know what your talking about,” JJ said.

“You want to talk about what I don’t know? Okay. I don’t know why you ditched me after we got so close!”

JJ puts his head in his hands, “we can’t talk here,”

He grabs your hand and pulls you along to his car, then when he starts driving on the road, away from the Cameron’s house, he starts talking.

Beginning with a deep breath, and his eyes still on the road, “I didn’t want to tell you. Maybe it was my ego, or maybe I just wanted you to believe I could always protect you. But we had to split,”

“Why? JJ we were friends! And I thought..maybe more?” You admitted.

“Rafe threatened me. He said if I kept hanging out with you...that he’d leak some pictures of you,” JJ says.

“Pictures of me? Doing what?” You asked in utter confusion.

“Nudes,” JJ explained.

“I don’t have nudes! And I’d never send them to Rafe,” you told him.

“That’s what I said. I know you. So then he threatened more. He’d say shit about my dad, send me to jail and shit. I just couldn’t do that to my dad, it would fuck up my life...I’m sorry,”

“You don’t have to justify Rafe. I’m sorry too. It’s partly my fault. I should have fought more against my parents,”

“Wait what do your parents have to do with Rafe?” JJ asks.

“You don’t know?”

JJ nods, furrowing his eyebrows.

“My parents set us up. They would never say it in words, but they forced me to date Rafe. They thought I would be a good influence, and there were social reasons. I know that’s shitty, but I had to explain,”

“Shit. Y/n I had no idea. I never should have abandoned you,” JJ said, finally stopping the car, “and...about my house, I didn’t mean to offend you when I didn’t invite you over. There are reasons that I don’t..can’t get into right now,”

“I wish things could go back to the way they were,” you said, placing your hand over his.

JJ wasn’t used to affection, it should make him feel uncomfortable, but he turned and when his eyes met yours, and scanned your smile, he felt loved again.

Part 2

#jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank x you #outerbanks #jj outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n

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pagingevilspawn · 4 years ago

Text

Loving You Is A Losing Game- chapter seven

i actually hate this, so ew. but i’ve forgotten that i write, so i’ll try to type some stuff up tomorrow! regardless, i hope everyone enjoys! click here to read on ao3.

TW// domestic abuse

~*~

"small town boy in a big arcade. i got addicted to a losing game."

~*~

alexandra: you do realize how crazy that sounds right?

joseph: it's not crazy at all if you ask me.

alexandra: jo, asking for lollipops for your christmas present sounds very crazy to me.

and christmas isn't for like, a while.

joseph: dude, christmas is in two weeks and one day

and plus, i'm settling on lollipops. what i really want is a pony, a shiny, pretty one with rainbow hair, you know those? that's my dream right there

alexandra: oh crap really?

yeah yeah, ha ha. laughing so much right now.

joseph: hate to break it to you, but it's the 10th alex.

and i know, what a shame i wont be able to have my pony. it was at the top of my list this year

next to an ice cream sundae the size of manhattan, obviously.

alexandra: very funny. can't you tell how much i'm laughing.

crap, got to go, robbins is letting me in on an esophageal atresia on a newborn. i'm her favorite you know.

joseph: ugh, lucky.

make sure to kick ass and not kill anyone. that would suck.

actually... your big head could use some ego deflating. make sure robbins has to save you halfway through. maybe then you'll earn some humility.

alexandra: wow, you're such great help. so nice too.

joseph: you know it ;)

she turns off her phone, a small smile on her face as she looks out the window, passing by houses that all looked exactly alike; white exteriors with a bright green lawn. the only thing that could help someone tell them apart was the door colors. her and paul had just come back from a dinner with some of his coworkers, but he wasn't talking to her so she decided to text alex. the silence in the car was tense, though she was unable to grasp the reason why.

they'd been texting non-stop since the conference three weeks ago, talking about each other's days, complaining about annoying coworkers and classmates. they really enjoyed having a friend they could just talk to because they felt like it. it was refreshing. they'd never had anyone like that before. in the past they had friends that they felt comfortable around, but it was different when you had someone who understood you so well. not to mention, being able to make self deprecating jokes about their crappy childhoods and receive a laugh in response was so much nicer than the pity stares they were both so used to getting,

she snaps back to reality at the sound of the engine turning off, cutting the music as the expensive car door opens. she sees paul angrily walk out of the car, slamming the door behind him, not stopping by her side of the car to open the door for her like he normally did. (she was actually thankful for that. she was a grown women, she could open a damn door herself)

weird, she thinks, but decides not to question it. her husband had been a bit more moody and temperamental lately, so she supposed it was just that. but the dinner seemed to go really good in her opinion. she got along with his colleagues and paul certainly enjoyed himself, getting to be around all his coworkers and interact freely. she liked to think that his colleagues liked her as well. they complimented her all evening and included her in all of their conversations. though, she did wish that they would've referred to her by her name more, rather than 'mrs. stalder' or 'paul's wife.'

she gets out of the passenger side and shuts the door behind her, walking up to the steps after she hears that paul had locked the car. she places the small clutch she had on the entry table and walks to the kitchen, seeing paul sitting at the kitchen island, nothing in front of him except tea that he had heated up in the minute or so he'e been in there. she kisses his cheek and starts talking, knowing that it would probably help calm whatever he was feeling.

she gives him a smile, rubbing his shoulder affectionately. "it seemed like the dinner went really well, all of your coworkers are super nice and-"

"you talked to steven too much." he cuts her off, sending an icy glare her way, and look she had never seen on him before shining darkly in his eyes.

she cocks her head to the side, "huh?"

he stands up from his place abruptly, making her jump back slightly. "i said," he spits out, eyes narrowing as he stares her down "you talked to steven too much."

she lets out a loud laugh, thinking that he was just joking around and messing with her. at any second he was going to join her giggling, ignoring the way his eyes had only seemed to darken the second the sounds had escaped her mouth."oh, that's funny." she says in between laughs, eyes shining with childish glee. "jesus you really scared m-"

pain.

her words get cut off by a fist coming directly into contact with her face. she feels the stinging sensation burn from her eye to her cheek, her brown eyes watering with tears as she realizes what had just happened. she lifts a palm up to touch it protectively, almost making it seem like it was more real if she touched it.

oh god, it hurt. it hurt like hell. his gold wedding band adding to the impact was sure to leave a scar by the corner of her eye. she'd been punched before, multiple times actually by foster parents and girls while she was in high school, but this hurt so much more. it was so much harder than she'd ever been hit before.

her husband just hit her.

"oh brooke, baby." paul says, taking her into his arms and brushing her hair back immediately, trying to get her to relax into his embrace. "i just got so mad. you just made me so mad brooke. you can't make me mad like that" he tells her, eyes dripping with some kind of emotion she can't place as he places light kisses on top of her sea of brown curls, ignoring the way the way she stood stiffly in his arms, a few lone tears making it's way down her cheeks.

"i love you. you know that brooke" he whispers, wiping the tears from her face, his hands feeling usually rough against her skin, his touch not easing over the bruise that hard already begun to form.

she nods. it was okay. he loved her. he didn't mean it. he just got angry. it was okay. it was fine. he loved her, it was okay.

she thought she probably deserved it. after all she'd cheated on her husband just three weeks before, and had continued to keep in contact with the man she had cheated with. it was only karma.

"i'm sorry paul." she apologizes sincerely as he cups her face in his hands, giving her a sweet smile. it wasn't his fault. it was hers.

"it just better not happen again." he states, eyes burning into hers intently, his grip on her face tightening without her even realizing it. all she really felt was numb, as if all of her senses had seemingly shut down to avoid dealing with the pain that was spreading throughout the side of her face.

she nods her head up and down as she pulls her back into him. "i'm sorry" she whispers into his chest.

he smiled.

and that's when he knew he had her.

____

alex finished scrubbing out of a surgery, shaking off the excess water on his hands, grinning internally. it was always so much better when he was able to help save a kid. the success was just that much more fulfilling. he's about to push the door open when it swings in itself, making him come face to face with cristina, the expression she was wearing was more worried looking than he'd seen in a long time. he'd known yang for a while know, and he knew whatever was about to come out of her mouth would be bad. cristina yang was never worried.

"what do you want yang?" he asks, noting how she had her hands crossed over her chest and was avoiding his gaze.

"there's a merger happening." she says, looking up to meet his eyes to let him know that she was serious.

his narrows his eyes, scrunching up his nose. "what?" he questions. a merger? as in, combing two hospitals into one?

"you just missed the announcement. apparently we're merging with mercy west." the raven head repeats, a slight trace of fear in her voice, a very unusual thing for cristina yang.

he lets out a deep breath, tugging his scrub cap off and running a hand through his hair as he leans over the scrub sink, gripping it so tightly his knuckles begin to turn white. "i can't loose this job yang." he says to her softly, making her nod in agreement.

"you and me both." with that she walks out of the room, alex not far behind her, both of the surgeons heading up to the resident's lounge to change, which was filled to the brim with chatter, all of the doctors talking about the newest topic, the merger.

meredith sits down next to him, slipping a long sleeved purple shirt over her head when she casts a glance to alex, who was sitting still looking down at his phone's empty screen, seemingly deep in thought, almost as if he was waiting for something to magically appear on it.

the blonde nudges him, snapping him out of his trance. alex sighs, resting his elbows on his knees as he buries his head in his hands. "what am i gonna do about iz?" he asks her, judging by her face that she was drawing a blank, much like him.

jesus, this was great. these past few weeks he had hardy been able to look his wife in the eye, because every time he saw her he was reminded that he slept with someone else. not to mention, he was just texting that certain someone just a few hours ago. he was really screwed. izzie had currently been home on bedrest, not being allowed to return to work until two weeks from now, which apparently would also be when the mercy westers would turn up. fucking great. he felt as if the universe was rallying against him at this point, no matter how much he knew that wasn't possible. he dug his own grave, it was just a matter of time before he would need to lay in it.

"she'll be okay." meredith reassures him, but he can tell by the look on her face that she was unsure as well. who knew would end up getting cut? they would need to pull their heads out of their asses and prove that they deserved to stay. none of them could lose their spot. not only because of their job, but also because of the people there. they were a family. they couldn't lose any more of their family. they'd just lost george, and they couldn't lose another.

"evil spawn, put on a shirt!" cristina yells, balling up a shirt from his locker and throwing it at him, hitting him square in the chest as he glares at her. he pulls on the shirt silently and heads out, not bothering to say goodbye to anybody as he leaves the lounge and heads straight to joe's across the street.

he slides onto a barstool, ordering a beer and thanking the bartender with a slight nod of his head. how was he supposed to tell izzie about the merger? he knew that if his wife knew, she would want to return to work immediately, but he knew she couldn't do that. she was still getting her strength back, and standing around on her feet all day surely would delay the healing process. he couldn't risk her getting hurt because he wasn't able to stop her.

he'd done enough recently, even if izzie didn't know about most of it. the last thing he needed was to cause his wife more harm than he already had.

he was going to tell her, he knew that, just not right now. right now he was going to sit on this uncomfortable wooden bar stool and drink his beer and forget he had any problems. he was going to forget about the merger, he was going to forget about him and izzie going at it twenty-four seven, and he was definitely going to forget about the brunette with a fake name who seemed to be on his mind all the time.

he was just going to forget everything, his only focus being his beer and the football game on the small television above the bar. yeah, that sounded like a good idea. a really good idea.

____

okay, so he forgot about two out of those three things.

he was actually doing pretty good for a while, almost a full hour with nearly a beer and a half finished. all he had been focused on was the seahawks playing against the steelers, with the steelers crushing the seattle team thirty-four to seven. not much of a surprise though, he couldn't remember the last time he'd witnessed the seahawks win. it wasn't that they were a completely crap team, it was simply the fact that one; the steelers were much better this year, and two; he hardly ever got enough time to sit down and watch a game. being a resident drained the life out of him, especially since he had finally knew that he wanted to specialize in peds. when he wasn't at the hospital he was reading up new medical procedures in magazines, or occasionally sneaking over to meredith's to watch old ellis grey tapes.

he was doing really... until he got a text message from jo.

joseph: how was your surgery?

alexandra: wow, you must be bored.

joseph: ...

what makes you say that?

alexandra: really?

joseph: i'm in med school, thank you very much. i have a severe interest in your surgeries.

alexandra: mhm, sure.

joseph: fine, i'm bored. entertain me. please.

alexandra: that sounds vaguely dirty.

joseph: oh great. how drunk are you?

alexandra: what makes you say that?

haha, two can play that game.

joseph: i'm guessing two beers in?

alexandra: shut up, only one and a half.

joseph: mhm, wasn't too far off

but seriously. i'm bored and am in need of anything remotely interesting. you just scrubbed in on a super cool surgery, i want details

alexandra: fine, baby maria duboir, two weeks old, robbins let me lead the procedure about half way through, coded once, we then shocked her at 150, and now she is stable and in the NICU.

happy?

joseph: yes. very much so

although i do think your OR stories need work

you sound like you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about

alexandra

wow. you're a real delight you know that?

joseph: oh, believe me, i know. don't even get me started on how many times people have complimented how freaking amazing i am

it's quite a common occurrence.

if i had a dollar for every time someone said that to me, i'd be living on my own private island

alexandra: i bet you would.

seriously though, tell me something. i've got nothing better to do than watch the seahawks get crushed.

joseph: i'm guessing that's sports talk, so i'm just gonna ignore that, since it hate any sport where men look like giant block of cheese, run around a court, or just run in general.

but today's been boring. went to a dinner tonight. fancy stuck-up rich people who laugh with posh accents and sip their champagne way too slowly

fucking turtles.

alexandra: sounds fun.

joseph: you suck. i can literally hear the sarcasm through the phone asshole

alexandra: that's the point. i'll take a sick kid over fancy dinner any day.

crap, that sounded really horrible didn't it?

joseph: it really did

"i'll take a sick kid over a fancy dinner any day" real charming if you ask me. night in shining amour.

alexandra

yeah yeah you know what i mean.

____

they're not sure how long they end up talking for, alex siting at joe's bar and jo lounging on the couch in her living room while her husband was in his study going over and grading tests for one of his classes. before either one of them even know it, it gets to be twelve thirty boston time and nine thirty in seattle. alex's texts had gotten much harder to read, which made sense, considering he was now on his third beer.

jo teased him about it though, finding it more enjoyable than she would've guessed to text a drunk alex than a sober one. he seemed to get increasingly flirtier the tipsier he got. not to mention, all the spelling mistakes he made was definitely one for the books. she had a feeling that it was getting a but harder for him to see which letters where which, considering a few b's were located where there should be d's, and 'm' where they should be an 'n'

alex knows for a fact he's earning many stares from fellow people at the bar because of how much he's laughing (loudly too), but he doesn't really care. if he's gonna laugh, he's gonna laugh. all he could really focus on was the fluorescent lights hanging from the bar's wood ceiling and the frankly hilarious texts coming through his phone. (okay, so they weren't that funny, but everything is always a lot more funny when you're drunk)

jo was thoroughly enjoying herself, laughing more and more as she sank into the couch, completely forgetting about the bruise on her left cheek as she typed away, grinning from ear to ear when the man on the other side responded, words misspelt and random numbers and semicolons popping up from time to time.

they knew that what they had done was wrong. they knew that what they were doing was wrong. but they couldn't stop.

if only they had stopped sooner.

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queenbirbs · 5 years ago

Text

distracted art appreciation | Ethan Ramsey x MC

Summary: It takes him fifty-six days in the jungle to get over her. Or, well, so he thought.

WC: 3k+

Warnings: N*FW

She’s been staring at the same painting for the past fourteen minutes.

Though, she uses the term ‘painting’ loosely -- whatever she’s looking at is made of twisted straw wrappers and crumbled pages of an IKEA manual. The placard next to the work features phrases like ‘a work of action’ and ‘an introspection into rampant consumerism.’ To her (admittedly untrained) eye, it looks like someone dumped a trashcan over a canvas and spray-painted it with viscera and glitter. Taking another sip of her wine, she glances down at her phone to see that only another minute has passed.

“Two more hours,” Sloane mutters to herself, hopelessly wishing again for time to speed up.

It’s not that she isn’t happy for Kyra, who started out with painting tutorials on YouTube and worked up to a modest following in Boston’s art community, which led her here to her first gallery show. She was excited for the first hour, sticking close to her friend as Kyra chatted with fellow artists about mediums and superatism and juxtaposition and a hundred other terms Sloane didn’t understand. But as conversations flowed, Kyra’s nerves settled down, and she waved Sloane off to go get some air and peruse the other artwork.

Which is how she came to standing in front of The Shopper’s Sediment, waiting for the event to end so she can help Kyra haul her paintings back down the block to her car.

The pleas for company that Sloane sent to the group chat have gone unanswered; they’re probably all still out at the new fantasy-themed bar that she skipped on to be a good friend who keeps her promises.

She’s so concentrated on the ugly artwork that she doesn’t realize there’s a person standing beside her. In fact, she only realizes they’re even there when she lifts her wine glass and ends up whacking them in the side with her elbow.

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there, I--” she swallows back the rest of her panicked apology.

Ethan smirks down at her. His hand is clasped around her offending elbow.

“It’s all right. I won’t be pressing charges.”

“Thanks,” she says around the dumb grin on her face.

She admires the cut of the jacket he’s wearing; it’s some sort of tweed fabric with patches on the elbows, as if he’s just stepped down from behind a podium at Boston U. For a long moment, they stare at each other, and then down at his hand, still wrapped around her arm. He yanks his hand back as if he’s been burned; the dumb grin falls from her face.

“Um,” she hides the wince that wants to form, “why are… sorry, what are you doing here?”

“I missed out on a few First Fridays while I was away,” he explains. “Besides, Les Mis is running through the fourteenth, and I’ve seen enough of it for a lifetime. I thought I’d peruse the galleries tonight instead.” Taking a drink from the glass in his other hand, he glances about the room. “And you?”

Sloane tips her head in Kyra’s direction, explaining her role as both a social crutch and moving help. An awkward silence follows her words; she switches her glass from one hand to the other, mentally cursing at herself for fidgeting.

She’s a grown-ass woman! There’s no need for her to fold like a goddamn lawn chair around the man next to her. They’re both adults. They can interact in a public place without acting like idiots.

“Well,” Ethan starts, and then pauses to clear his throat. “You heard all about what I was doing down in Colombia, but I’m… curious. What did you do for the two months I was gone? Besides breaking up bar fights for Reggie.”

“Worked,” she answers with a smile. “And worried, of course.”

He quirks an eyebrow up at her response. “About you,” she clarifies.

“You didn’t need to.”

“I know. But I did anyway.” A smile flickers across his face at her admission. “I kept a close eye on the weather conditions down there. You were there during one of the wettest seasons on record. And now I find out that you were wearing a leather jacket the entire time for protection? Something about that just doesn’t add up. And you know what I think? I think you bought it in Bogota before your return flight, so you could come back with some new… down-to-earth vibe.”

That small smile of his grows; the sight of it makes something flutter in her throat.

“You’re not considering the bigger picture,” he says.

“Which is?”

“How I look in it.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“Only when they’re yours.”

Sloane makes a show of taking a drink, if only to hide the blush that’s likely (most definitely) coloring her cheeks. She’s bedded the man twice, yet he can turn her into a mess with a minute of flirting. If hope is the thing with feathers, as Dickinson wrote, it’s flown well beyond her reach now.

“In the interest of continuing our, for a lack of a better term, in vino veritas,” he says, “I… worried about you, too.”

The admission causes her to perk up.

“What for?”

“I chose a poor time to leave. Everything was in an upheaval, with Naveen and Harper and I moving positions, and you having won your trial, and then you were awarded the position on the team, and…” he trails off, brow furrowing as he attempts to corral his rambling. “Naveen told me about Doctor Olsen, about how he tried to sabotage your standing.” At his side, his hand clenches into a fist. “And if you let that slide by, what else were you holding back from me?”

“I’ve dealt with bigger snakes than him. You don’t need to worry about--”

“But I did,” he cuts her off. “The entire time I was gone. All fifty-six days.” His eyes drop from hers, going instead to his glass and feigning interest in it. “Some reset, hmm?”

She should walk away; bid her goodbyes and return to Kyra’s side, let him walk out the door and move onto the next gallery. Let him have his reset. But, then again, she’s never been able to leave well enough alone.

So, instead, she tucks her arm up into his. Her offending elbow nudges his side.

“Come on. I’m tired of staring at this.”

Ethan gives the piece a look over his shoulder as they continue into the space. “It is a rather… visually-challenging take on mixed media.”

“See? I’ve circled this place four times and don’t understand what I’m supposed to be looking at. You’re just the man I need.”

“Then, by all means, lead on.”

By the near-end of their excursion through the gallery, Sloane learns more art terms than she did in the one art history class she mistakenly took in undergrad. The one that she barely passed, though she doesn’t mention that particular detail when Ethan asks.

Art is something she appreciates as one would appreciate good food -- she doesn’t have to know every ingredient in it to enjoy the taste. Ethan, as he is inclined to do, argues against her logic, claiming that knowledge behind every brush stroke (and, thus, every pinch of minced garlic, if we’re using food as a comparison, he added with a sigh) makes the artwork that much more meaningful (and, thus, tastier).

“It’s a moving piece that calls back to the Impressionist period,” he tells her, as if the third time’s the charm, and suddenly she’ll be awestruck by the boring landscape before them.

“It looks like something that would be bolted above the bed at a Best Western.”

He barks out a laugh at her comment, quickly smothering it when it draws attention from the other art patrons. They move away from the Monet copycat and down a long hallway, where a selection of lackluster acrylic paintings hang in a row. Sloane can feel her eyes glaze over as she examines them.

It’s no wonder that there’s no one near this end of the gallery. The conversations that reach them are muffled, just the droning buzz of voices. Not even the contemporary jazz music is piped down this far, leaving only the creaking floorboards and their own footsteps to accompany them. They reach the end of the hall, where a little table holds a handful of empty plates and glasses, abandoned by those that came before them.

Above the table is a painting of a woman. Draped around her shoulders is a red robe, patterned with messy strokes of amber-colored flowers. Her short, dark curls are pinned back, showing off the strong line of her jaw and the soft contour of her lips. Her right hand is raised, her fingers curled towards herself, as if beckoning to someone out of frame. Her eyes are closed, her head tilted up as she waits for her kiss.

“She’s hot,” Sloane blurts out.

Ethan raises an eyebrow at her blunt summary of the artwork, though he concedes with a nod. “She is rather lovely.”

“It’s kind of weird, though,” she steps closer and scans the woman’s face. “She reminds me of a woman I went on a date with.”

“Oh. When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Oh,” he repeats, but his tone is different this time.

Sloane looks him over, unable to suppress her grin. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he says, then grimaces. “Maybe. Yes. Of course I am.”

“You shouldn’t be. Her name is Reese -- she’s a pediatric surgeon over at Children’s. Very attractive, great work ethic, good kisser, cute dog.”

“I fail to see how you reciting all of her best qualities is preventing me from feeling jeal--”

“Simple,” she interrupts. “No spark.”

“Not one?”

Sloane tips her head from side to side, pursing her lips as she considers. “Okay, maybe a little one. Not enough for a fire, though.”

The quiet of the hallway hovers between them as they gaze up at the painting. The placard hanging next to it lists the artist and the artwork’s title: la voglia.

“Is that Italian?”

“It means ‘the wanting.’” He tips back his glass and swallows the last of his wine. Liquid courage, and all that. “What about… us?”

“Hmm?” The question pulls her from her study of the painting.

“What was our ‘spark’ level?”

“Oh, we were a bonfire.”

“I see,” he says, his eyes blazing as he watches her. Sloane bites down on her bottom lip. His gaze flickers down to watch the movement; the flame that’s been simmering in her stomach all evening ignites under the attention.

“Did you want to kiss me?” she asks. “The other night at Donahue’s?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to kiss me now?”

“Yes.”

“I wish you would.”

The loud clink of his glass meeting the table is lost under the sound of his footsteps crossing the few feet between them. His hands come up to frame her face and his lips crash against hers. Her glass smacks against the table from where she hastily drops it; wine sloshes and drips down onto the floor. Sloane ignores the mess in favor of grabbing any part of him she can reach and pulling him close. Ethan breaks the kiss to surface for air, moving his hands to her waist; she adjusts her grip to his tie and yanks him down for another kiss, tilting her head to deepen it. Pleasure hums through her as she teases his lips to open for her, sweeping her tongue against his own.

Her back hits the wall; funny, because she doesn’t recall moving at all. The rough brick catches at her blouse and hair as she tilts her head up and arches her back, offering more of herself for him to explore.

“Sloane,” he hisses, trailing Syrah-soaked kisses along her throat and up behind her ear. He nips at the soft skin there, the marks hidden behind the curtain of her hair that he wraps around his hand and tugs. The moan tumbles out of her before she can swallow it down. “I can’t decide what I missed more,” he says with a smirk. “Your touch, or those sweet noises you make for me.”

“Can I tell you what I missed most?”

He pulls back to look down at her, blue eyes alight with arousal. “I’m all ears.”

Flashing a smug grin, she shifts to put her leg between both of his and brings it up as high as her skirt will allow. She rubs her knee against his thigh, and then higher, smirking when he growls out her name.

“That,” she tells him.

Ethan shakes his head at her as he grabs the offending leg and wraps it around his hip. She retaliates by hauling him closer and rolling her hips up to tease him.

“Sloane--”

“Yes?”

“We can’t… not here. Someone could come down the hallway any moment.”

“I know,” she purrs, running her nails through his beard, pleased at his sharp inhale. “We should go somewhere more private.”

“We… my apartment, it’s not too--”

“I’m not sitting through that forty-minute taxi ride you call a commute. I can’t wait.” She brings her hand down and presses it against the swell of his visible arousal. He emits a helpless groan at her touch. “And neither can you.”

“What do you have in mind, then?”

Her only response is another grin that he meets with a look of worried confusion. She decides that she likes the look, especially when she gets to watch the understanding dawn on his face as she guides him to the open door of a nearby stockroom.

Sloane kicks the door closed and locks it behind them, smacking Ethan’s hand away from the lightswitch. Warm light from the street lamps outside pours down out of a high window, diffused with the multicolored strobes of the nightclub across the alley. Shelves of cleaning supplies crowd in next to a pile of stanchions and a stack of easels. The bass from next door thrums along the brick walls, rattling the glassware that’s tucked away in the cabinets. The countertop underneath them glows red from the club lights.

Ethan picks her up easily and sets her on the counter. The laminate is cool under her heated skin, causing a shiver to course through her. His hand curves around her throat, his thumb brushing along her bottom lip. His breath turns ragged when Sloane turns her head in his hold and takes his thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the digit before releasing him with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Let me see more of you.”

She reaches down and untucks her blouse while he attacks the pearl buttons, popping them open and pushing the cloth from her shoulders, chuckling at her threat of injury should he ruin her shirt. The cool air of the stockroom is soon replaced by his warm breath as he drags kisses down her chest; unhurried and uncaring of her complaints as he takes his sweet time.

“Ethan--” the rest of her complaint is lost to time as his mouth closes over the lacey fabric of her bra. His tongue traces the peak of her nipple, over one breast and then the other. She drags her nails through his hair and grips the strands tight, begging him to never stop kissing her.

In true fashion, he does stop and flashes her a self-satisfied smirk before dropping to his knees. Hauling her closer, he shoves her skirt up, the fabric bunching around her waist. She waits with bated breath, trembling slightly with anticipation, so sure that he won’t bother to tease her now, not when she’s--

“You bastard,” she croaks out when he starts further south than she wants.

That smarmy chuckle of his is somehow deeper than the nightclub’s bass; he ignores her insult and continues tracing wet kisses along the curve of her leg. His beard scratches at her knee as he makes his way up, higher and higher, until he’s so close that the puff of his breath is nearly enough to set her off.

“You’re one to talk,” he says, tilting his chin to let his beard scrape at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “If I’d known you weren’t wearing anything under this skirt, we would have been here hours ago.”

She opens her mouth to serve him something snarky right back, but he chooses then to press the flat of his tongue against her and lick a long stripe up her sex. The noise that escapes her isn’t anything close to the English language. With one hand holding her leg up to keep them spread, he uses his other to slide two fingers into her wet heat. The pace he sets is punishing; Sloane barely manages to reach up and grab at the cabinet handles behind her head, holding on for dear life. The warm heat in her belly flows outward into her limbs, burning through her veins; her hips make aborted little thrusts into his mouth as his tongue works her open.

“Oh, god, oh -- god, Ethan!” she cries out. Then his thumb finds her clit and she’s a goner. Her legs snap closed, holding him there as she rides out the wave of her orgasm. Escaping from her hold, he gets to his feet and steps between her splayed legs. He cups her chin and coaxes her up to meet him for a kiss.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Sloane works at his belt buckle, the leather creaking under her grip as she yanks it from the loops and throws it to the ground.

“I don’t think you needed to--”

“Shut up,” she orders, covering her mouth with his. For once, he listens, kissing the fuck out of her while she pops the button on his pants and dips her hand inside his underwear. His breath catches and his head drops to her bare shoulder, his hips thrusting up into her touch. Heady pants sound against her ear, spurring her on.

The hand not splayed against the cabinet above her head disappears between her legs and palms her sex, rubbing circles against her there. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, “god, touch me.”

“Do I…” he starts, then stops, choking back a groan as her wrist gives a little twist. “Do we need…?”

Through the thick fog of oxytocin clouding her brain, Sloane catches on to his fumbling attempts. To give him the chance to form a coherent thought, she lets go of his cock, busying her hands by skimming them up his body and underneath the button-down he still wears.

“I presume you got every test in the book before being let back into the country,” she says. “And my IUD is still in working order. And, besides that, I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

He shifts to look down into her eyes. By the primal glaze covering his own, it’s obvious to her that the notion pleases him.

“Not even with the surgeon with the great work ethic and the cute dog?”

Stretching up, she captures his lips with her own -- mostly to shut him up again, having found the technique rather effective.

“Like I told you: no spark. Now, if you can get over your jealous streak and--”

“I’m not jealous,” he protests while still grabbing her knees and tugging her that much closer.

“You so totally are,” she laughs as she wraps her legs around his hips. Her knuckles scrape against the cabinet when he forces her hands up beside her head; she links her fingers through his, holding him there.

“Not anymore.” A wolfish grin spreads across his face before he drives into her.

Any chance of continuing their banter is lost to the heat between them. His hips crash down into hers; her legs quake around his. Their chests heave with every breath, their kisses little more than frenzied brushes as the flare of pleasure grows and grows, burning white-hot under their skin.

Ethan drops one hand to where they’re joined and passes once, then twice over her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her body arches as the delicious, surprising heat of her orgasm courses through her. Unable to withstand the rhythmic clenching of her, he follows, muffling his shout by burying his face against her throat.

“How was that?” he asks once the ability of speech returns. Despite the sweaty mess of each other they’ve made, he nuzzles close, sighing when she wraps her arms around him.

“A house fire.”

Though it defies all laws of medicine and the universe, she can somehow hear the frown of consideration he wears.

“I was thinking forest.”

“Okay,” she concedes. “That works too.”

From somewhere in the dark room comes a buzzing sound. Before she can seriously consider whether or not her orgasm did knock her hearing out-of-whack, Ethan scoops her phone up from the floor.

A stack of missed texts from Kyra fills up her screen:

6:28 pm: come back there’s a hot girl I want you to see

6:28 pm: she’s a sculptor and welds and has tattoos please i’m weak

6:43 pm: where did you gooo

7:02 pm: if you left because of the creepo photographer let me know and I’ll kick his ass

7:04 pm: creepo says he never saw you which i DO NOT believe considering how hot you look tonight

7:39 pm: Lmao nvm

7:39 pm: you are the least subtle person i know but no worries i’ve got your back

7:40 pm: I trust that doctor ramsey can take care of your front ;)

8:24 pm: Devon the hot welder you missed out on meeting is going to help me w paintings and then take me out for a drink. make good choices!! text if you need anything love you

“What are those little pictographs next to her name?”

Sloane glances down at the tiny flexing bicep and pink heart next to Kyra’s name and rolls her eyes.

“This grumpy, outdated persona of yours can only go on for so long, you know. You did grow up during the birth of AOL and AIM. You’re not a Luddite.” She hops down from the counter and taps out a reply to her friend before buttoning up her blouse. “Besides, you know it’s rude to look at people’s messages, right?”

A red flush returns to his cheeks, though he tries to hide it by crossing the room to switch on the light and searching for his belt.

“Well, I had to make sure it wasn’t the pediatric surgeon, offering to take you out again.”

Sloane lets out a snort, her attention on her reflection in the mirror propped up against the back wall. “We both know by now that there’s only one persistent, albeit indecisive and general pain-in-the-ass doctor that has my attention.”

Ethan, having finished putting himself together, approaches her from behind. His hands slip in underneath her hair to fix her collar. She catches his eye in their reflection; he drops a kiss against her temple.

“Come home with me.”

“That would go against all of those parameters you set up,” she reminds him.

“I know. So did this.” If his tone is a little lost, a little unsure, she doesn’t mention it. “Come home with me,” he repeats.

“Okay.”

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

Hello, and welcome back to the sin bin.

Please no art lectures. Everything in this was either prior knowledge, googled to the best of my ability, or from recalling friends who were art majors in college bitch about said major. The painting of the woman they discuss is based off of Albert von Keller’s Anticipation. (Sloane’s right; she’s hot.)

Also, if anyone can tell me if I used the correct ‘desire’ in Italian, please let me know. I couldn’t find anything that said I should use la brama instead of la voglia, so I used the latter. (special thank you to @uncagedwings for the vocab assist!)

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart #choices #f: distracted art appreciation #Kaila writes things #this story is like half trashing fictional art and half sex #hope that's somebody's cup of tea

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ubernoxa · 4 years ago

Text

The Dare: A Guns N’ Roses Fanficiton

Chapter 36: An Important Minor Detail

Masterlist

Pairing: Duff Mckagan/OC

Story Summary: A stupid harmless dare, that’s all it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be something they would do, and never revisit. For Delilah, little did she know that visiting the strip wasn’t going to be a one time thing when she made the choice to accept the dare. Life is full of choices. Some choices can mean absolutely nothing, while others can change your entire world. Delilah had heard many rumors about the Sunset Strip or Devil’s Strip. Teenagers would whisper stories about how the Devil walks the streets of the strips without a care in the world. It was known as a place untouched by God. After years of hearing rumors about the Devil’s Strip, Delilah wants to see it for herself. Thus a Dare was born.

Chapter Summary: One of the many downsides of going to a large people is that you might know the ones there. Even if you wished you didn’t know them

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks @str4nge-haze @dustnbones @queen-crue

The moment that Duff had finished his show, and he had his arm wrapped around Del’s waist. It might sound corny, but he could take his eyes off of her the entire show. Granted she looked amazing in skin tight pants paired with a shirt that he assumed she borrowed from one of her roommates, but it was her dancing or more of teasing she was doing while he performed.

“Nice headscarf,” Duff whispered in Del’s ear as they followed the rest of the band to the bar.

“Thanks, this Duff guy had it on the floor of his room, so I decided to do the poor thing justice and wear it,” Del giggled at her own comment, and Duff smiled at the giggling girl.She wore it just like he had countless times around her.

When Del first started drinking, he wondered what kind of drunk she would be. Would she be the type to become mute? Would she become a mean drunk? A sad drunk? Quickly to his relief, Del was a giggly drunk who was a heavy flirt. Granted the flirting she did wasn’t the stereotypical flirting seen on the strip because at the end of the day Del is still Del, but Duff liked her weird sense of flirting.

Del quickly positioned herself on Duff’s lap once they were in the overcrowded truck that she had grown rather familiar with. She smiled even wider at the familiar scent of beer mixed with cigarette smoke, it smiled like home.

After a quick stop at the hell house to unload their equipment they were once again on the road.

“Where to?” Izzy asked, causing a small bicker fest between axl and Steven. Del passed a small piece of paper and leaned forward to talk to Izzy who was in the driver’s seat.

“Mags said there would be a party at this address, something about a good way to meet new people and network. Good way to meet new fans,” Del sent Izzy and Axl a warm smile as she talked, trying to mimic what Mags had done countless times to get her way.

“I don’t know Del,” Izzy slowly spoke, eyeing up Axl. Truth be told, Izzy didn't care if they went to the party or not. He recognized the address, and knew it was on the nicer side of town. Nicer side of town meant nicer booze. As Izzy looked at Axl, he expected to see some sort of annoyance in his scowl. It was no secret that Axl hated Mags, it was even less of a secret that Axl had requested for Mags to be kept as far away from the band as possible. Confusion filled Izzy, as he stared at the smile that was planted on Axl’s lips. If any other girl had asked to go to the party, Axl would have immediately said no, but this was Del who was batting her eyelashes and wearing the sweetest little smile. This was Del who had Axl wrapped around her little finger without even knowing.

“You want to go there? Do you want to get drunk Delly?” The brunette nodded earning a small laugh from Axl. Izzy couldn't help but roll his eyes at Axl using the nickname Duff called Del.

“Well, that side of town has the best booze,” Axl shrugged before handing the address back to Izzy.

“How do you guys feel about going on the North side? Apparently, there will be live music and free booze,”’ The cheers that erupted in the car quickly answered Axl’s question, and Izzy headed for the party.

Once Izzy got the truck back on the road, Duff pulled Del back, so she was no longer leaning forward and talking to axl.

“What was that about?” Del giggled as Duff began to pepper kisses into the crook of her neck.

“Hmm, nothing much. I just missed you,” Del giggled at his comment, unknowing of the glare the Duff was sending Axl. For a couple of seconds, Axl stopped smirking at the bassist and turned his attention elsewhere before talking with Izzy about their next gig.

Immaculate. That was the only word that came to mind when they pulled up the address.

“Holy shit, who is this guy?” Steven asked, trying to take in the mansion.

Their rusted truck was horribly out of place as they pulled up to the gate which automatically opened. He couldn't take his eyes off of the large fountain that was in the center of the front lawn. A naken women who was carved out of some sort of stone was holding a water jug. The fountain water was pouring out of the jug and cascaded around the woman’s body. The fountain must have cost more money than he has ever made, or stolen, in his entire life.

“Hey, Steven, there are probably nonrock naked women at the party, but you’re welcome to creepily stare at the rock woman all night. Personally, I would prefer to look at your girlfriend nake than that statue, but to each’s own,” Slash joked, earning a small chuckle from the drummer.

Earlier that evening, Stef had skipped the gig and gone to the party. Of course she was helping by keeping Mags away from the band like they had asked her too, but Stef also wanted some time away from Steven. She wanted some time to think things out.

“Well I am going to go find my girl,”Steven said as he bolted to the backyard like a lost puppy looking for its mom. Del couldn't help, but giggle at the notion. It was sweet of him, and she hoped that Duff would do the same if they were ever seperated.

Del felt Duff heartbeat quicken as they walked into the mansion where the party was in full swing. The place was huge and packed to the brim. She felt like a sardine in one of the tins you would buy at the store.

“Del, have you ever had fireball?” Slash asked, as they all stayed together and headed towards what they only assumed to be the kitchen. Del held onto Duff’s vest the entire way there, too afraid that she would lose him. She would have grabbed his shirt; however, he hadn't worn one which she had absolutely to problem with.

“No, why is it called fireball? Is that the shot you light on fire before taking?” By now they had made their way to the kitchen where they could all once again hear each other.

“No, it's cinnamon flavored,” Axl replied looking through the bottles that were on display. Holy shit, he couldn't remember the last time he had seen this many bottles at a party. He hated to admit it, but Mags always had good connections. To say he was more than curious to see Del’s reaction to the cinnamon liquor was an understatement, no doubt it would be adorable. Before the gig began, him and Slash were talking about which liquors Del had had before. Upon spotting Duff’s favorite brand of vodka, he pulled it from the selection and handed it to the blonde who gratefully accepted it. Axl smiled as he finally found the cinnamon liquor and grabbed some plastic cups that were on the table.

He couldn’t help, but laugh at Del who was currently giving Duff shit for drinking straight from the bottle. Apparently it wasn’t ‘classy’. Axl just shook his head and passed the girl a cup filled with about a shot worth of fireball.

“To getting trashed the classy way,” Axl clinked his plastic cup with Del’s earning a small giggle from the girl because there was clearly nothing classier than doing shots out of a red solo cup.

Del was able to drink about a fourth of the shot before the burn was too much making her cough. Axl once again rolled his eyes as Duff leaped to her side and rubbed her back making sure to not forget to send him a quick glare. As if he was the one who burned her throat. Del began to push Duff off of her, feeling the embarrassment of everyone looking at her.

“I'm fine Duffles,” Del sent the blonde a quick peck on the lips, instantly calming him down.

“Enough of this, I am going to grab a beer. Duff, can you help me find Mags and Stef?” Del added placing the cup down and grabbing one of the cans of beer that were under the table. She wasn’t picky. She was looking for anything that wouldn’t burn her throat.

Axl then swung his arm around Slash’s shoulder and the pair went off to socialize.

It didn't take long for Duff and Del to find Stef who was currently sitting on Steven’s lap. Del smiled at the pair as she walked closer to them.

“Hey! I was wondering if I was going to see you!” Stef cheered, running up and practically tackling Del to the ground. Duff managed to keep Del steady, keeping her from falling on her ass.

“Popcorn, why the hell are you wet?,” Steven only laughed at Duff’s question and pointed at Stef who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey..have you seen Mags?” Del asked, trying to get back on topic. To say that Del was a little concerned with Mags being at this party alone while pregnant was an understatement.

“Last I saw her, she went to go upstairs and powder her nose or some shit like that. Probably just needed to breathe. Come join us! You two have perfect timing because we were just talking about the band. Steven was telling me that you watched from the audience. How crazy was it?” Stef asked motioning towards Del to join them. The partygoers they were talking to turned towards Del, curiosity spread across their faces.

“It was insane!” Del smiled and looked up at Duff remembering how amazing the show was, how amazing Duff was.

Duff had begun to walk forward, taking Del’s comment as a cue that they would not be joining them; however, she began to take a few steps back.

“ I want to make sure that Mags is doing ok. Plus she was the one who invited me, and I don't wanna be rude,” Duff guided Del through the crowd of people. Duff made sure his arm was tightly wrapped around her waist. He had no intention of losing her, not now not ever.

Del let breath escape her once they walked up the marble steps. When they reached the top, Del was able to take in the scenery for the first time. A large chandeleur hung high above them, giving the illusion that it was floating in the air. The glass shimmered and reflections of the coral marble could be seen if you looked close enough.

“It looks like it is floating,” Duff pointed out to Del as they stood at the top of the stairs.

She just nodded at his response.

“Would you like me to buy you one?”

Del sent him a confused look before speaking, “No, we can barely afford food.”

“I meant when Guns N’ Roses makes it big,” Del melted as he spoke. She felt his arms lightly wrap around her, pulling her close.

“I would love one when you make it big,” Duff smiled at his words. He was glad that she knew they were going to make it big too. Del stood on her tiptoes and Duff bent over in realization that she wanted to kiss his forehead.

She lightly tugged his hand and wandered around the second floor. It was in the fourth room that Del heard a quiet sob from behind the door. She shot a quick look at Duff who nodded in understanding, knowing that if that was Mags she most likely wouldn't want him seeing her in her current state.

It was a soft knock on the door that pulled Mags from her sobbing.

Fuck, someone found her.

She took a couple deep breaths before talking, “Sorry occupied.”

Mags was almost impressed on how quickly she could put a mask on and pretend everything is okay.

“Can I occupy it with you?”

Mags couldn't have gotten off of the ground faster to open the door to the familiar face.

“Thank god you’re here,” Mags pulled Del into a tight hug. To say this party had been complete shit was an understatement. Del just smiled and hugged her even tighter back.

“This bathroom is too big, like what do you do with all this space?” Del asked, trying to bring up anything beside the fact that Mags had been crying in the bathroom for the past hour.

Mags could put on her mask all she wanted, but Del could see through it. Del could see her pain.

“The marble is a little gaudy for my taste,” Del nodded in agreeance with Mags before joining her on the floor.

They sat in silence, Del waiting for Mags to bring up the real reason that she was alone crying in the bathroom.

“He used to sing to me every night. He said he wrote the song about me, I had fallen in love with falling asleep to his angelic voice,” Mags whispered, fighting back the tears that were fighting to escape.

Del remained silent as the pair sat on the bathroom floor far away from the world that was on the other side of the locked bathroom door. She didn’t truly know Drew. All she knew him as the bastard who broke Mags heart, and she hated every ounce of him for that.

“But now, now he sings to someone else.” Once the first tear escaped, there was no hope holding back the rest. The tears flowed down her face like a river escaping a dam. The moment Mags saw Drew with his girlfriend or wife or whoever the hell the woman he brought to the party was, she was done. She was tired of the cruel world and how it kept kicking her repeatedly even though she was never able to get up. Mags was tired of putting on a tough face. She was tired of pretending everything was fine when the world around her was shattering. She was tired of being Mags.

Del wrapped her arms around Mags, who quickly cried into her shoulder. Del thought she knew what pain was. When her fiance hit her, she thought she knew pain. While that hurt, this was a different type of pain. This was the pain of a young soon to be mother who was thrown to the curb by an adulterous man who could care less what happened to not only the woman he impregnated, but his child as well. He didn’t give a damn about his own flesh and blood.

“Do you wanna go home?” Del asked, earning a small head nod from Mags.

“Can you get me something to drink? He is down there flaunting some chick and I do not think I will be able to handle it sober,” Del nodded her head and placed a small kiss upon her cheek. From the corner of her eye, Mags saw Del talking to Duff probably instructing him to get her her drink. She was relieved to know that Del wasn't walking around alone. Mags didn't get a good look at them, but she swore that she saw Mark and Matt, her ex-fiance, downstairs.

It was only for a second, but Duff and Mags shared a quick moment of eye contact across the room. Mags sent him a small smile which she knew that Duff, just like Del, saw through. Luckily he seemed to not press further and followed Del out of the bathroom.

Time was always a funny thing. For some people a minute could flash before their face while for others that minute could feel like years. For Mags there was one month, one single night a little over a month ago that she kept playing in her head over and over again.

It was the night before Mags had met Del. The night Mags woke up naked in Duff’s room with no condom wrapper around. They were both trashed and it meant nothing. She not only hoped, but prayed that Duff wasn’t the father of her unborn child. She knew it was selfish because Duff would probably make an amazing father, but he was going to make an amazing father to Del’s children whenever they chose to have them. Mags sleeping with Duff was anything, but an important minor detail.

Duff didn’t like the idea of separating from Del, but she assured him that it would only be for a couple of minutes. Once again time was being a funny thing. When Duff returned back to the bathroom where Mags was, his heart stopped. Alone in the room was Mags who was freaking out that Del was alone downstairs. Duff tried reassuring Mags that Del would be okay, but when she told him who was also at the party he ran to go find Del.

Del had found her way to a back room downstairs where there was a closet filled with several pillows and blankets. Del smiled at her find, hoping that a beer and a quick nap would give Mags enough to recover and leave the party with her head held high.

“Long time no see,” Del’s heart stopped at the familiar voice. What was Matt doing in a place like this, and where there was Matt there was also Mark not too far behind.

“Yes, what a month or two? I am sorry, but I have to deliver these to someone so I cannot stay and chat,” Del said trying to stand her ground.

“I think it can wait, this is about Beth. You remember her don’t you? Or do I have to remind you who your best friend was,” Mark’s voice was spitting poison as he handed Del a letter. He couldn't forgive her for the pain she caused.

Del opened the letter, and it was a small invitation to celebrate Beth and Mark’s engagement.

“Congratulations, but I am busy that evening,” Del spat without even looking at the date.

“Oh, will you be posing for another magazine?” Del froze as her ex-fiance stood blocking her only exit out of the room.

“No! If you are referring to the magazine article, most of it wasn’t true. I do not know how they got the scandalous photo of Duff and I, but that wasn’t what the photo was supposed to be used for. It was supposed to be a private photo,” Del shot back.

“Ohh a private photo for Duff”

“Don’t say his name Matt,” Del barked back. She hoped that her shouting would make Matt back down, but her ex-fiance’s smirk only grew.

“Whoah whoah whoah, lets all just calm down. Matt go and stand outside, so I can finish talking to Del,” Matt was about to protest at his words, but one look from Mark and he left the room.

“Touch me and I will scream. I know people here who wouldn’t think twice about beating you up,” Del said once Matt left the room.

“Ohh let me guess you scream, and Duff will come running in here like a knight in shining armour?” Mark laughed at his own words.

“Yes, he loves me.”

“Delilah, stop being such a child. He doesn’t love you. He only wants you for your body, and once he gets bored with you, which he will, he will toss you aside and move onto the next girl” The way Mark said the words made her flinch.

No, she told herself. No, Mark was wrong.

“Beth and I are getting married and I want you to be at the celebration party. I do not care if you come or not for my sake, but I know Beth wants you there.”

“She called me dead,” Del shot back.

“Well Delilah, her best friend left without saying goodbye. If someone who I grew up with and imagined growing old together with just got up and left for some guy, I would be pretty mad too,” Mark shrugged off Delilah’s comment, not really caring if Beth hurt Delilah’s feelings.

“I left her a letter,” Delilah’s voice was barely louder than a mouse. Regret filled her bones as she thought about how badly she hurt Beth, but that wasn’t enough to make her want to go.

“It would be a shame if Duff found out you were cheating on him with that other guy in that article. Ohh what was his name Axl?” Mark didn’t want to take it this far by threatening her, but Delilah needed to come home.

“That is not true. I am faithful and you know that,” Delilah shot back.

“Well here is the thing Del, it is my word against yours. Who is Duff going to believe, you or me? Honestly..even the media thinks you are sleeping around. Plus, even if he does believe you, there will always be that seed of doubt that will eat him alive. He will spend nights getting so drunk that he lies awake trying to figure out if he was ever good enough for a whore like you,” Del interrupted him before he could continue.

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking piece of shit. I am finally happy. I wake up in the morning smiling. I love him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I want to have a family with him, and you aren’t going to fuck that up.”

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