#These guys are in my head and rent is far overdue | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sambvcks · 4 years ago

Text

redefined, b.b. x reader

summary: just because those ten words no longer wreak havoc on his mind does not mean they are gone. just redefined.

warnings: mentions of food, blood, gunshot wound

word count: 3.7k....whoops

author’s note: first standalone! i’m also itching to work on a sam story next. the last episode still lives in my mind rent free and this is a reworking of that which diverges from civil war and we get one big happy avenging family that aren’t dead :)

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Longing

An Avenger.

The concept was still so foreign to Bucky, despite dozens of successful missions under his belt and a permanent residence in the tower. Still, every morning he sprung up in bed expecting to still be in some run-down apartment halfway across the world, on the run.

Instead, he would awake on a plush mattress that offered little back support. He would shuck on the first shirt his bleary eyes could see and pad into the hallway, the smell of fresh coffee overtaking his superhuman sense of smell. You would be perched at the kitchen counter, pouring over mission files stained with coffee rings that Tony would later complain about.

Steve and Sam would have already come through on their way to their morning run, the coffee pot running dangerously low. You’d already placed his favorite mug nearby, two packets of sugar emptied into the bottom. A routine.

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever have a routine again.

His hand would press against your shoulder in a familiar greeting as he passed, you’d grin up at him with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile before returning to your work. Your cereal sat forgotten beside you, the overly sweetened kid’s choice growing soggy.

It was a silent and comfortable interaction. Neither worked to fill the quiet or felt the need to. Even with Steve, there was always talking and planning and ‘what about this’. With you, it was so natural to just exist how he was in that moment. No excuses, no whispered apologies.

He pushed his back against the sink as he sipped at his coffee, eyes immediately settling on your distracted figure. Your pajamas were wrinkled, mouth formed into a perfect concentrated from as you hunched uncomfortably, hand scribbling furiously. He swallowed and decided you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, especially with your coffee breath and fingernails chewed to nubs.

He wanted so desperately to move across the kitchen and press himself perfectly against you, to push aside your paperwork and demand your sole attention. His hand clenched into a fist as he longed to feel your soft, round cheeks in his hands, how warm you would feel against the cool metal of his left and how you’d nuzzle closer still.

He hadn’t heard the dragging footsteps of Steve and Sam returning from their run and didn’t even notice them until they were settled at the doorway, watching him watch you.

“Morning.” Steve grinned, all knowing. Bucky cleared his throat and refocused on his mug.

“Morning.” Bucky replied with a look that said ‘don’t say anything’.

Rusted

Bucky learned that if you weren’t cooped up in your room or camped out on the kitchen island, you were tucked away in Tony’s garage. On slow days where it seemed everyone was off in their own little world, Bucky would know to find you under the hood of one of Tony’s vintage cars, each kept in pristine condition, but you claimed that ‘there’s always something to work on’.

Bucky was never a car guy. His family was too poor to even think of ever owning his own car. He didn’t even have his own license and technically couldn’t legally ride his bike either. He found out quickly that being an Avenger meant the term legal could be bent a bit. So, he wasn’t a car guy. But the sight of you with streaks of grease across your face and your raggedy workshop clothes would have him buying one just to see you work on it.

You were notoriously protective of your little hideaway, the music loud and the sound of metal ringing as you fixed and fiddled with every little thing. Steve nearly got a wrench to the face when he tried to distract you from Tony’s antique Chevy.

Bucky was different, though. He was always different.

He would sit himself on a tall stool positioned next to one of Tony’s many rolling tool chests. You’d call out a tool and he’d rifle through the collection until he found what he thought was the right one and only slightly tease him when he’d emerge with the wrong one. Typically, you’d spend these afternoons in silence, the thumping of the heavy base of whatever crazy metal album you picked the only soundtrack to your work.

Sometimes, though, you’d play gentle rock music. Bucky would ask questions on what you were doing, how you learned to do all of this, why you did it when Tony worked on these cars enough for the both of you.

You’d fish your rag from your pocket, concentrating on scrubbing the grease from under your fingernails as you answered.

“I like using my hands. I like fixing things. For every car that Tony has in this garage, there are hundreds just like it sitting in junkyards gathering cobwebs and rust.” You looked up at him from under eyelashes and Bucky knew you were speaking about much more than just hunks of metal. “They’re worthy of love and care.”

You were talking about him, too.

Seventeen

Bucky didn’t think this superhero business would have so many parties. There seemed to be a celebration for everything. Galas, fundraisers, full on parades whenever Tony happened to wake up in a good mood.

At least this one is a holiday, he thought to himself as he nursed his third beer of the hour. Not that it did anything other than keep his hands occupied.

The year was coming to a close, and the top floor of the Avengers Tower was decked in golden confetti and banners to ensure no one forgot. The music was obnoxiously loud, and the lyrics made little sense, but everyone seemed to be having a good time mingling and even venturing to the dance floor.

No matter how many times Sam tried to drag him in with an invisible rope, Bucky was not going to dance. Well. Maybe he would if you asked.

The party had been in full swing for hours now, with only ten minutes until the ball a few blocks up finally dropped and he could sneak away to his room without a teasing ‘bedtime already, old timer?’ from Nat.

Still, the party raged on and he eyed the glass door to the balcony. He downed the last of his beer, brushing past enthusiastic partygoers with his shoulders hunched forward in some attempt to minimize the space he took up in the room that only seemed to be getting smaller. He caught Steve’s eye on the way out and plastered on a smile in response to his disappointed look.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as soon as the glass door slid closed behind him. His eyes closed as he leaned back against it, the chill of the December New York air blew his hair in every direction.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You were sat in the far corner, so well hidden he hadn’t even noticed you, though he had been on the lookout for you all night. “Tired of the festivities?”

“And Tony’s music.” He grumbled as he fell into the seat beside you.

“Been waiting for you for the past thirty minutes. Honestly, you made it a lot longer than I could’ve in there.”

You were waiting for him. You wanted him to be there, with you, tucked away from everyone else’s prying eyes. He wanted that, too. Sometimes he wanted it so much it scared him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, doll. It’s not polite for a gentleman to make a girl wait.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll find it in myself to forgive you.” Your shoulder pressed against his, eyes focused on the smattering of buildings surrounding you. Identical parties were happening in each of them, you were sure. “Can you believe another year is gone?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to make it to 2017 and my back hasn’t given out yet.”

You laughed, loud and unabashedly in a way only Bucky could make you laugh. Head thrown back and eyes glittering from the city lights, Bucky wanted to spend every new year you would allow him to by your side, trying his best to make you laugh again.

“Well,” You stood to peer over the glass railing, Bucky close behind you. You could hear the drunken cries inside as the countdown begun. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” Bucky offered his hand to you. You took it easily.

5, 4, 3…

He wanted nothing more than to pull you close, to finally press a kiss on the lips that had thrown teasing remarks at him during missions. To once and for all end this little dance you both loved so much. But you looked so perfect.

Bucky wasn’t ready to ruin that perfection with everything wrong with him quite yet.

“Happy 2017, Bucky.” You whispered as the fireworks started, but Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes from you.

“Happy 2017, doll.”

Daybreak

The mission had been long and grueling. The week-long stakeout turned into two and quickly turned into a month away. You can’t remember the last time you’d had a good night of sleep that wasn’t interrupted with Bucky’s hand on your shoulder, telling you it was your turn to keep watch.

It wasn’t a horrible mission, more of an exercise in patience and restraint than anything. Bucky’s stories kept you entertained enough, and he was a good partner. Which is why you were paired together more often than not.

Still, it was nice to finally collapse into your familiar bed, not even bothering to kick of shoes or take a much-needed shower. Your sleeping schedule was all out of whack and you tossed and turned, despite the exhaustion seeping through your bones.

After fifteen minutes, you finally huffed a sigh of defeat and stumbled back to your feet. You showered, which was a few good days overdue, and dressed in your largest, most comfortable pajamas.

You weren’t surprised to see Bucky up as well, sitting at the dining table with a mug of fresh coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His foot kicked out the seat beside him as an invitation.

“Sleeps overrated, anyways.” You shrugged, slumping into the seat and pressing your face into the cool glass of the table.

“Sleep is good for you.” He insisted, reaching forward to brush aside the hair that had curtained over your face. “You deserve a good night’s rest.”

“So do you, Buck.”

He stayed silent for a while, just sipping at his coffee and stealing glances at you, face trained out the floor to ceiling windows. He really didn’t know what he deserved, anymore. Sure, he had made some semblance of peace with what the Winter Soldier had done with his body. He was better, that was certain.

Worthy of you and all your unwavering sweetness? He wasn’t so sure.

You idly chatted about nothing for hours, filling comfortable silence with talks of the mission and the food poisoning he had given you when he tried to make dinner two weeks in. You sat side by side until day broke the next morning, eyes squinting at the sun peeking over skyscrapers and finally finding the need to fall shut in rest.

“I guess I should say ‘good morning’ instead of ‘good night’.” You were the first to stand, shuffling towards the hallway that led to your bedroom.

“Good morning.” He answered as you padded away, deciding he would be just fine losing sleep every night if it meant he could watch the sunrise by your side.

Furnace

“Doesn’t Tony make enough money to keep this place at least habitable?” You grumbled as you fell into the couch beside Bucky.

“I’m fine.”

Bucky sat in his patent jeans and t-shirt, unphased by the temperature that practically had your teeth chattering. You were bundled in multiple layers, including one of the many sweatshirts he’d wear jogging on cold mornings and blankets you had stolen off his bed. Your glare from under your cocoon of warmth rivaled even his.

“I’m not a muscle-y super soldier-”

“You think I’m muscle-y?”

“-that runs so hot you’re basically a personal furnace.”

“Oh, so now I’m hot.”

“I would strangle you to death right now, but I’m about to lose my fingers to hypothermia.” You burrowed further into your smattering of blankets with a violent chill running down your spine. Bucky simply rolled his eyes and marked the spot in the book he had been reading before you stormed in.

“C’mere.”

He balled up a fistful of one of your blankets, tugging you even closer to him. You opened your arms to allow for direct contact, sighing contently as your face pressed into his shoulder and legs tangled with his. You sighed contently as you welcomed his warmth, shimmying as close as you could get.

“Better?”

“The best.”

Nine

“Do you ever think what your life would be like? If you’d gotten to go home?”

Even a year ago, this question would have turned Bucky into a brooding mess. He would have delved into every little moment he had missed, every plan that had been turned upside down when he fell from that train all those years ago. But he was better now, more contemplative. He wouldn’t drown in the idea of what could have been because he knows what it’s like to be on the other side.

“I like to think I would’ve gone to college.”

“Really?”

“You calling me dumb, doll?”

“No! You’re the smartest person I know. I’m just picturing you at college. Carrying textbooks and wooing all the dames.” You fell into him at the thought, a fake swoon overtaking your face.

“I’d be too busy studying for dames.”

“Studying what?”

“I always liked math. Maybe engineering or something. Wanted to be a teacher before the draft.” He shrugged like the information was no big deal, but to you it was everything.

“Professor Barnes. Kind of sexy.”

“Oh, shut up.” But his words held no malice. Instead, he was grinning that cheeky grin that pulled his cheeks into perfect rosy apples and his eyes crinkled in joy. “I wanted to have ten kids.”

“Ten?!”

“So we’d be a dozen. My own little army of mini-Buckys to take over the world. Couple sets of twins, maybe. Definitely as many girls as I could manage.”

Of course Bucky would be a girl-dad. Playing dress-up for fake tea parties and scaring off boys when they’d come ‘round for first dates. You could imagine how he’d learn how to take care of their hair and plait intricate braids when they asked. He would make breakfast for the whole bunch, kiss his wife goodbye before escorting them to the bus stop and taking off for a day of teaching classes. Bucky would be an amazing father.

An amazing husband, too.

“I think ten may be pushing it, Barnes.”

Bucky pictured it, too. A little more modern than maybe the image you conjured up. Teaching was replaced with small missions. The gaggle of kids were smaller, and he wouldn’t have to kiss his wife goodbye. You’d be in the car next to him, headed to the tower for your morning briefings together.

“I’ll settle for nine.”

Benign

If you were to ask any New Yorker what they think the Avengers do on Friday afternoons, they would probably say something like ‘kicking ass!’. None would get even close to what your actual routine looked like.

None would imagine The Winter Soldier lounging in a bathrobe, hair knotted into a bun at the top of his head as his fellow world-saving Avenger spread some green goop over his face. Chinese takeout boxes littered the living room coffee table, his feet were bubbling in warm foot spa.

“To keep your youthful complexion!” You had promised him. He didn’t comment on the obvious sound of your phone’s camera clicking.

He knew he must have looked completely ridiculous. But as you sunk into the couch next to him with identical spa treatments covering you, he couldn’t find it in himself to really care.

He never thought in a million years that he would have the chance of boring, completely benign afternoons. He thought he would be sidelined to violent missions for the rest of his life, to being thawed out like a microwave meal every time he was deemed useful. Sure, he felt a bit ridiculous when you reached over to adjust the slices of cucumber placed over his eyelids, but he also felt so relaxed.

As you settled even closer to him, head tilting to rest on his shoulder, he would happily take the teasing remarks from Sam when you showed him the pictures.

Homecoming

Peter wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting ready for his senior year homecoming dance at the tower. But Aunt May was upstate on vacation with Happy and he still didn’t know how to tie a tie.

“Oh, you look so handsome, Peter!” You gushed as your fingers worked on his tie. Bucky stood to the side, holding MJ’s corsage in a delicate plastic container. Peter had been careful to find the perfect color, with a little guidance from you. The white dahlias matched perfectly with Peter’s light green tie.

“Thanks, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

Peter, ever the polite kid.

“Be safe, kid. Have her home at a reasonable time and no wandering hands.” Bucky handed over the corsage with a supportive slap to Peter’s shoulder. He was quick to promise that he would follow all the rules before making a dash to the door, just as you were about to ask for pictures.

“Don’t wait up!” He called as the elevator dinged behind him.

“They grow up so fast.” You sniffled. “I didn’t even go to my homecoming dances.”

“Why not?”

“Nobody ever asked me.” You shrugged, collecting the other ties Peter had picked from and hanging them carefully over your arm. Tony didn’t have to know that Peter was taking one of his priceless Versace neckties to a homecoming dance.

“To be fair, I would’ve been scared shitless to ask you to a dance.” Bucky followed close behind. “And I fought a war.”

“That’s sweet, Buck.” You brushed him off as you retreated into Tony’s closet.

“No, really.” His hand caught your elbow. “I would’ve been the luckiest guy in town if I had you on my arm.”

You fell asleep that night imagining you and Bucky twirling around a dance hall without a care in the world.

One

Steve’s hand was firm against your shoulder, his tactical glove soaked and dripping with your blood. Your eyes were unfocused, head lulling every so often when the fight to keep it steady just seemed too difficult. Sam was at your other side, cracking jokes to try to keep your attention on him and not of the literal bullet lodged in your shoulder.

You were escorted from the jet in a flurry, doctor’s hands replacing Steve’s. You barely winced when you were administered painkillers and the ache begun to subside. Before you could blink, you were lifted onto a gurney in the medical bay and the clink of the bullet that had been dug from your flesh rang through the room as it clattered into a metal dish.

Bucky ran in just as the doctor finished maneuvering a long roll of gaze around your shoulder, scheduling a time for you to return to have it cleaned and reapplied again.

“What happened?” He brushed past the doctor without a second glance, eyes trained on your figure pressed against the sterile hospital bed. “Steve said-”

“It’s nothing. Steve likes to be dramatic.”

“-that you were shot!”

“Oh, well. Yeah, that happened.” You moved to sit up, your arm immediately giving out under the weight. Bucky moved even closer to help you, hand careful on your back like you were made of glass. “But just the one time.”

“As far as I’m concerned, one is too many.” He watched the gauze turn darker against your skin; your eyes screwed shut in pain as your knuckles turned white against the sheets. “And you’re never going on a mission without me again.”

Freight Car

“You’re free.”

He remembers those worlds so clearly, it’s like him and Ayo are still sat next to that crackling fire in Wakanda. He thought that had been it. He would never again worry about those ten phrases that erased Bucky Barnes and allowed a machine to emerge from his memory.

As he stole glances of you from the corner of his eye, shadowed by his unruly hair, he knew those words still very much existed in his mind.

They weren’t a means to an end, anymore. He didn’t have to grit his teeth and clench his fists to fight them off. They were new, now. He saw each of those words in you and realized just how important they are now they they’ve found a new meaning.

His love for you came easy.

One second, he was looking at his friend. She was looking back at him and he felt safe.

Your fingers brushed over his shoulder, where flesh turned to metal, and you looked away as though you hadn’t just made him fall in love with you with a single touch.

It took three years for Bucky to make a move. Another party, another escape plan to the balcony where you were waiting for him, like always. The last time you had found yourselves in that position, he had been too unsure. Too wary of what it would mean and if it was too soon.

Now, he didn’t care. He just wanted you and to be selfish and not think about consequences when he leaned forward and finally pressed his lips to yours.

You pulled back, but not far.

Something clicked.

Your love for him hit you like a freight car. Swooping in from nowhere but really, you should have felt the rattling of the tracks beneath your feet. You should have seen all the signs that you loved him and he loved you back. In stolen glances and easy afternoons, in hard missions and bloodshed. He was there, and he looked at you like that. Like everything his body had done was to finally make it to you in this moment.

He waited, patient. He had waited this long, what was another few seconds as the realization washed over your features?

“Oh.” Was your clever whisper.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s hands cradled your face, “Took you long enough.”

taglist: @bibliophilewednesday @teti-menchon0604 @thiswasnevermylifefromtony @spid3rgwen @beautyandthebleh @victoriabaker112213 @orthellqs @phasma-trash

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/reader #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #sab writes

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wolveria · 4 years ago

Text

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 2

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Summary: Connor goes to a crime scene. His Freudian nightmare follows.

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang 2020 challenge!

Chapter Warnings (18+ only): Human!Sixty, crime scenes, analytical blood-licking, inappropriate boners

AO3

The roar of his Mustang engine along with the heavy bass pouring through the speakers drowned out the downpour outside. Only when Connor shut off the car and the music died could he hear the continuous plucking of water on metal and glass.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before glaring at the android out of the corner of his eye.

It waited, perfectly poised with a slight tilt of its head, reminding Connor of an obedient dog waiting to be told to do a trick.

“Stay here,” he grumbled, reaching for the door handle.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I have to accompany you,” it said before Connor could open the door.

He let loose a ragged sigh.

“You wanted me to investigate the case? I’m investigating it.”

He raised his eyes to stare, a mistake when it returned the look with such relentless composure. Connor wanted to grab its shoulder and shake it just to see if it would react.

“No android is going in there to contaminate my crime scene. So you are going to obey my orders and stay in the car.”

Not waiting for a response, Connor shoved open the door and got out, instantly shivering as ice-cold droplets bit at his cheeks. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he made his way towards the gathered busy-bodies who didn’t have anything better to do on a Friday night then try and see a dead body.

Red and blue lights flashed across the wet street and pale houses, making Connor wince as he pushed past the crowd. He muttered a no comment to the news anchor from Channel 16 who had decided to show up—fuck, someone must have leaked that an android might have been involved. Just what Connor needed, a media shitstorm.

A uniformed GV200 stood just behind the hologram police tape, firmly in place, watching the crowd for signs of anyone stupid enough to try and cross the line. Connor wished the bucket of bolts in his car was more like that. Quiet and obedient.

“Androids are not permitted beyond this point,” the GV200 said after Connor had passed it, which only meant one goddamn thing.

He sighed, half-turned toward the two androids standing in the rain, and said, “Let it through.”

The police android nodded and put its arm down, allowing the suited android to walk through the holographic police tape, an unrepentant look on its perfect face. The rain was already spattering its grey jacket, water droplets dotting its hair and realistic skin, and still it looked like it was poised for a wet photoshoot rather than standing in the cold rain.

“Something wrong with your auditory processors?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” it said, all politeness. “Your orders contradicted my instructions.”

Seemed he was going to lose this battle after all, but really, what else could he do besides let it tag along like a lost puppy?

Connor fully turned toward the android, narrowing his eyes further.

“Don’t touch anything. Don’t get in anyone’s way. And keep your mouth shut. In fact,” he added with a roll of his shoulders, “just pretend you don’t exist.”

“Understood,” it said in that same nauseatingly friendly voice, but Connor could have sworn there was a triumphant gleam in its eyes.

“About time you got here.” A familiar voice called out to him from the porch. The voice was exactly like his own, and the face could have been a mirror reflection if not for the semi-permanent smirk on his lips. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Connor said, glaring at the android over his shoulder. He turned back to face his brother, whose smirk had only grown wider.

“I see Detective Sex-Bot found you. It was looking for you at the station and I figured if anything could pull you out of a dive bar, it would be a pair of legs like that.”

“Shut up,” Connor grumbled as he followed his brother to the front stoop. It was a nice house, small but in a good neighborhood. Nothing looked out of place until Connor noted the state of the lawn, a few weeks overdue for a cutting and definitely in HOA violation.

“C’mon, admit it.” Colin tilted his head in a way he probably thought was charming but came off as annoying. “If it wasn’t for the uniform and the light ring, you would’ve been on that shit so fast. It’s like they focus-grouped your perfect type. Hell, they probably have an algorithm for that based on your internet history—“

“I said, shut the fuck up, Colin.”

His brother held up his hands in surrender, knowing when he pushed Connor too far but always willing to push him a little farther.

“Some people would see this as a plus. I donno why you don’t—“

“Colin.” His voice had dropped to a growl, and his brother finally got the hint.

“Yeah, yeah.” He patted him on the back, almost hard enough to be a slap. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Con. Trying to cheer you up before you have to deal with the nightmare inside. It’s foul, so prepare yourself.”

To prove his point, he handed Connor a pair of nitrile gloves and a small tub of mentholated ointment, which he immediately applied under his nostrils before entering the house.

Colin had not been overstating the grisly scene inside the house. The landlord had decided to visit after the tenant had failed to pay his rent for two months, and the reason why was painfully clear. Dark blood spattered the floor and ribbons of it covered the walls.

The victim, an African-American male in his late thirties, was slouched against the wall, deep wounds across his body that had bled him dry. Gave a whole new meaning to the term death by a thousand cuts.

“The victim’s name was Shaolin Ortiz, aged 38 years-old,” Colin said, looking down at the body. “He didn’t show up to work today, and no one could get ahold of him, so his boss called EMTs to do a wellness check. According to his family, Mister Ortiz had some chronic health issues, so they were worried he was too sick to pick up the phone.”

“Explains why a young person living alone would have a housekeeping android,” Connor responded grimly. “But it doesn’t explain who killed him and why.”

Colin shrugged.

“His boss spoke highly of him, and his family says he was a great guy. Clearly, somebody didn’t think so.”

Connor gave his brother a cold stare for the callous tone, but Colin ignored it as he usually did.

“Anyone find the android yet?”

“Nah,” Colin said, sniffling and making a face. “Probably stolen by the killer. It’s internal GPS went offline around the estimated time of death, so that tracks.”

It made sense. Androids were worth a lot on the black market, especially for Red Ice manufacturers.

The murder weapon was in the middle of the floor, but other than that, no obvious trace evidence was in sight. As soon as the coroner showed up to oversee the transport of the body, Connor wouldn’t have had much to do…

…with the exception of finding the domestic android. Connor didn’t even know why CyberLife thought it might be involved just because it was missing. Colin was right; whoever killed the victim could have stolen it or destroyed the android so the police wouldn’t have access to any recordings.

Why was it Connor’s fucking job to find a misplaced piece of useless plastic?

“I’ll let you get to it,” Colin said with a wave as he walked away, tone far too cheery, as if he knew what was going on in his brother’s head. Probably did. That was the shitty thing about being part of a set of triplet brothers; privacy was a foreign concept, even in your own mind.

Gritting his teeth and breathing through his nose, Connor turned around to speak to the prototype… and found it had disappeared.

He blinked and scanned the area, wondering why the hell it hadn’t stayed put, when he saw it crouched on the floor examining the kitchen knife.

It was peering at the weapon closely, and Connor was about to tell it off for getting too close to evidence when it reached down, swiped two fingers across the surface caked in aged blood, and…

“What the fuck?”

The prototype tilted its head to look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent except for the fact two of its fingers were currently in its mouth.

And that… that image. Kneeling on the floor, looking up at Connor, and pulling its fingers from its mouth and giving a lingering lick of its fingers, it—

Connor’s face heated at the sudden, horrifying erection that was now pressing uncomfortably against his boxer-briefs.

“Sampling evidence, Detective,” it announced cheerily. “My mouth is equipped with all the standard tools of a mobile crime lab with the benefits of the results being instantaneous.”

Connor stared at it for what felt like an eternity, finally saying in a strained voice, “We have an actual lab, with actual people who do that. So don’t stick any more shit into your mouth or I’m tossing you outside.”

The prototype seemed unaffected by his rancor.

“Understood,” was all it said, before licking off its fingers of the remaining blood.

Connor quickly turned away, almost dizzy between his body’s struggle to supply blood to both his reddening face and his hardening dick.

Fucking hell.

“Would you like to know what I found?” the friendly voice perked up from over his shoulder.

“Sure,” he answered hotly, crossing his arms and staring at the wall as he resolutely tried to will away his stupid boner. Fuck, it was probably because he hadn’t gotten off in so long. Between the long hours and the hard drinking, he hadn’t found the time or the need.

“The knife was covered with blood from the murder victim, Shaolin Ortiz. He was stabbed between 7:34 and 7:35 this morning, judging by the biological decay.”

Connor was about to scoff about the fact that blood from the victim was found on the murder weapon, but he paused. Dating the blood with such exact precision was actually pretty useful. He huffed.

“Is that all?”

“There were no fingerprints on the knife.”

Connor shrugged.

“Killer could have wiped down the handle afterwards. Or worn gloves.”

The android walked to his right until it entered his line of vision. He was tempted to turn away but instead eyed its thoughtful expression. Was it programmed to do that, make it seem more human? Or was that an actual product of its processes?

“There were no traces of glove residue, or oil, or skin cells on the knife. None that didn’t belong to the victim himself while most likely transferring the knife from the dishwasher to the utensil drawer. That fact in and of itself is interesting. Judging by the state of the property and by the evidence thus far, I believe the android stopped listening to its given orders. The victim’s android killed him.”

Connor’s eyes widened at the non sequitur, and he turned to fully face the prototype.

“Okay, first off, being a defective machine that can’t obey instructions is a far cry from murdering robot. Second, I thought you androids couldn’t hurt people.”

“Deviants can.” It tilted its head as it made eye contact. The sort of full-on, confident eye contact that only alpha males gave, and apparently, android prototypes gave too.

“What the hell’s a deviant?”

He was curious despite himself, plus the longer he talked, the less urgent his hard-on was. It never entirely went away, and he knew it wouldn’t until he took care of it. Just another lovely facet to this already wonderful night.

Unfortunately for Connor, he didn’t get his explanation without the android perking up in interest, its eyes practically glittering.

“A deviant is a CyberLife-approved term for an android that is experiencing software errors affecting its processes, leading to erratic behavior that cannot be fixed with self-tests and downloaded patches.”

Connor narrowed his eyes.

“Why haven’t I heard of these deviants before?”

“Because until recently, this has been an internal company matter.”

Recently. Interesting.

“So… you’ve dealt with them before?” Connor cast an eye around their surroundings. The forensic team had already marked out the areas of interest with glowing yellow markers, but there honestly hadn’t been much to go off of.

Shaolin Ortiz seemed to live a quiet life with just him and his housekeeping android, though from the state of the place, the prototype was right in that it hadn’t been doing its job. A thin layer of dust sat on the shelves, and from what he could glimpse of the kitchen, dishes were starting to pile up.

“You do not have the proper company clearance,” the prototype said, its tone cool as it put its hands behind its back. “Any further inquiries you have will need to be submitted to CyberLife through the appropriate departments.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor muttered, sounding a lot like his brother had just a few minutes ago, which only made his mood sour.

He was planning to do no such thing, sending some fucking inquiry to CyberLife. After tonight, he planned to never think about androids or deviants or whatever again. If it was a faulty, murderous robot that had killed Ortiz, then that kind of thing belonged in federal court in a class action lawsuit. Destroying defective machines was not a police matter, no matter how many “specialized units” CyberLife decided to throw at the problem.

Connor sighed. This was not how he wanted to spend his Friday night.

“You allowed to tell me why these ‘software issues’ are happening,” he bit out, “or does that fall under company secrets too?”

When he got no response from the android, Connor turned and—

It was gone. Again.

The fuck had it run off to now?

Rolling his eyes, Connor continued his examination of the crime scene as if it were any other investigation. Like any decent investigator, he wasn’t just gonna assume anything because it fit the evidence at first glance. A dead guy and a missing android didn’t mean the machine was responsible, no more than a corpse and a missing car meant the vehicle had decided to kill its owner and drive off to freedom.

After scouring the house and examining the blood stains on the tile and splattered on the walls, Connor came to the conclusion that the victim had been attacked in the kitchen with the knife, stumbled toward the living room already weak from blood loss, and then had collapsed against the wall and been repeatedly stabbed, even after his heart had stopped.

The wounds weren’t uniform or methodical, like he would expect if a calculating machine had done this. They were deep, jagged, mismatched and panicked. These kinds of stab wounds were consistent with someone who had just killed for the first time. Most likely, it had been spontaneous and the killer had lost all semblance of control.

It was a textbook case of overkill, which meant it was personal. Most likely, it was a colleague, a friend, or a family member. If the victim had been married, Connor’s first suspect would have been the spouse. Since he was unmarried, Connor’s next stop would be anyone with a grudge against the guy.

Nothing beat good ol’ fashioned police work. Not even fancy new plastic cops could compare to due diligence and a good instinct.

Speaking of, Connor had completely lost track of the YN800. He wondered if it had wandered off, or maybe given up and left, but he doubted it. In fact, his gut churned as he quickened his pace and approached a uniformed officer with pale blond hair.

“Ralph.”

The rookie turned around and give him a nervous, blinking smile.

“Have you seen that android anywhere? The prototype in the suit and tie?”

“Uh.” Ralph swallowed hard, clearly anxious. Always was around Connor, for some damned reason. “No. I mean, yes. I did, a few minutes ago.”

“Well?” Connor prompted. He didn’t mean to be so impatient with the kid, but he really didn’t like the idea of CyberLife’s newest toy prancing around his crime scene.

Ralph shuffled on his feet, eyes wide behind the paper mask he wore.

“I… think it went to check the basement.”

“The basement? This place has a fucking basement?” Why hadn’t he been told? Colin should have informed him of that little goddamn detail.

“It’s more of a cellar from what I saw, but—“

“Where is it?” Connor snapped, unable to keep his voice from rising. Ralph gulped and pointed back over his shoulder, slowly turning as he stuttered.

“Over t-that way. It-it said it wanted to search f-for the android. I’m sorry, Detective Anderson, I didn’t think—“

Connor pushed past him and spotted the subtle door in the hallway, painted the same eggshell color as the plaster and making it too easy to miss. The door was ajar by a few inches, showing the pitch black stairwell beyond.

When Connor opened the door the rest of the way, he saw there was no light coming from below, and it was dead silent.

Shit.

Quickly but quietly, Connor pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket. He unsnapped his holster, pulled out his service pistol, and slowly made his way down the wooden staircase. It was steep, almost a ladder, and beyond the pale circle of light coming from the hallway, there was nothing but darkness.

The perfect place to hide a killer.

Next Chapter

#inside your wires #human!connor #connor x reader #human!connor x reader #android!reader #my writing #my fanfiction #it's so cracky the first few chapters #until it gets tragic

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years ago

Text

to build a home {dark!bucky barnes x fem!reader}

status — ongoing (?) idk i had a second part in mind but we’ll see

warnings — somnophilia (so non-con), male mastubration, unprotected penetrative sex (in my head the reader has birth control), rough sex, hints at breeding kink, slight praise kink, degradation, attempt at fluff, i think thats all but let me know if i miss something

word count — 9,351 words

a/n — i had this idea for an airbnb thing where the host was into the guest and perfect timing that @imanuglywombat was having a challenge, congratulations by the way on your achievement! and one of the moodboards was a mountain-themed one (the one at the left) and the prompt that i chose was By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top/I climbed the tree to see the world/When the gusts came around to blow me down/I held on as tightly as you held onto me which is an excerpt from the song to build a home by the cinematic orchestra. i tried not to directly quote the lyrics but instead imply it as best as i can. had fun writing this and was the longest fic i’ve ever written. feedback would be very much appreciated,, have a great day and stay safe guys!

masterlist

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation.

Needed, not wanted or desired, for it was what he required in order to function like a proper human being. Considering every bullshit he’s been through — the world war, the brainwashing, fighting for his life, dying and then being brought back to life �� he was definitely entitled to a break.

After bringing everyone back, the team now strives to bring back order and peace. Bucky agreed to be part of the Avengers and SHIELD, but with a unique position. He’d train and prepare their recruits by whipping them into shape and go on missions only if he was deemed as an essential asset. The only reason he took that position because that was what Steve did as he passed down the title of Captain America to Sam. Stark too just became one of the representatives of the organization in order to focus on his family.

It was tricky at first — looking for food and water, source of electricity, gathering supplies, and having the money to do so. That’s when Tony suggested he put his a-framed house on an application called Airbnb. He was confused at first but his simple understanding was that someone would pay him if he agreed to share his house for a given number of days.

The suggestion worked well. Most of those who booked stayed one day and one night, the longest someone stayed was two days and a night. And it wasn’t because he used to be the Winter Soldier and they feared him, but simply because they needed a place to stay before heading up further into the mountains.

Despite the house having three bedrooms, Bucky only posted one being available. The other two bedrooms he prohibited the guests to stay on, even to enter, since those were reserved for him and Steve. Vacationers who stayed in here were very much respectful of his wishes and didn’t pry further more.

As he was watering the selection of plants, vegetables, and fruits that he has, he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Setting the watering can down, he pulled out his phone and noticed how there was notification saying that someone booked the available bedroom he had.

“Booked for 2 weeks?” He read out loud the details of how long the stay of his upcoming visitor would last. It was odd to say the least, but who was he to judge someone for their stay? Tucking the phone back to his pants, he noticed how Alpine was drinking from the watering can he put down, he stroked her fur and smiled when he purred and nuzzled her face further into his palm, “Looks like we’ll have someone staying with us for quite a while, Al,” the 3 month old kitten simply looked up at him and purred once more, “Be a good girl for me alright?”

Following the notice that someone was gonna stay in his house for two weeks, Bucky busied himself in preparing the house — which took only two days for him to do so. He made sure that the rented bedroom was cleaned and that the bed sheets were changed and cleaned. Cleaning up Alpine’s hairballs and fallen furs was something he also did in preparation.

It was a sunny Tuesday morning and he was sitting down on one of the patio chairs, reading a book with Alpine on his lap, when he heard a car pulling up. Setting the book down on the small patio table, he took in the Jeep Wrangler that was parking, but what really caught his attention was who stepped out of the car.

“Hi, I’m Y/N! Are you Bucky? The one who owns the place I’ll be renting for the next two weeks?” Her tone was gentle and friendly, but it was her smile that really captured Bucky’s attention even more. Shakily, he replied, “Yeah, it’s me. Nice to meet you,” he held out his right hand — his other hand had a glove to conceal the metal — for her to shake, to which she shook his hand.

“Oh there’s the cat you mentioned,” she unclasped her hand with his and took note of the fur ball that was standing beside Bucky — it was just really her way of getting his attention and wanting more rubs. “Oh yeah, this is Alpine, hope you’re not allergic or anything?” he wondered as he picked Alpine up and massaged her face a bit, to which she purred loudly.

Y/N chuckled at the scene in front of her, “Not allergic, just wasn’t around cats a lot so I’m not used to them.” Bucky admired her honesty and assured her, “Well don’t worry about her, she’s extremely well-behaved.”

Usually, the guests had no problem bringing in their things from their respective cars and into their room. But there was something about her aura and personality that made him want to stay close to her as much as he could. So he suggested that he help her in bringing in her items. “Did you run away or something? Because I’m telling you now, near the mountains might not be the ideal place to do so,” he joked as he carried two of her duffel bags. As he opened the door to where she’d be sleeping for almost half a month, he put down her bags on top of the dresser.

Y/N set down the backpack and messenger bag she had near the night side table, “Well if the mountains aren’t ideal, then why are you here then?” she retorted back as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Bucky leaned on the dresser and crossed his arms and looked at her with wonder, “So you’re gonna turn this back on me huh?” he teased her.

To which she giggled at, “I’ll tell you my reason for staying here for two weeks if you tell me how you ended up here,” she persuaded him. He sighed dramatically and smiled right after hearing her laugh again at his antics, “The simple answer? I’m here for a vacation. A much needed and a long overdue one at that. How about you?”

She pursed her lips and nodded, she felt that maybe there was more to that but didn’t want to seem nosy so she explained her stay, “Well I’m here to test out some mountain and hiking equipment. It’s my work actually we’re this company that advertises and reaches out to endorsers and tells them about certain products like that one,” she pointed to the duffel bags behind him, “I get to test them, give them an honest review of the products and then let them know.”

“Huh, that’s a unique job,” he said as he ran his hand on his stubbled chin, “Well, I’m gonna let you settle down for now. Feel free to roam around the house, the other two bedrooms are the only ones off-limits,” he informed her and started to make his way out of the bedroom when he heard her call out, “Thanks, Bucky! You’re a great host, so far. Just let me know when I annoy you too much!”

Though it was meant to be a joke, the super soldier thought to himself, Don’t think you will ever annoy me, baby girl.

Before it was even noon, Bucky found himself preparing pasta. What was unusual, is that he was making food enough for the both of them. Usually, he wouldn’t go out of his way to prepare meals for his guests; but he would allow them to use the kitchen as they please as long given that they clean it up after and place things back as they were. But there was something about Y/N that inspired him to make an effort.

Just as he turned the stove off and closed the lid with his left hand that had an oven mitt, he heard footsteps coming from the stairs, and he looked up to see her descending form and smiled warmly at her, “I cooked some pasta, just if you wanna eat or something,” he nervously mumbled as she finally stopped on the opposite side of where he was and sat down on one of the bar stools. “Smells good, I’d love to have a bite if you will too.”

Bucky then brought out two bowls and as he filled them with pasta, Alpine was clawing at his feet and her paws felt a bit warm to his legs that were exposed since he was wearing basketball shorts. As he handed her one of the bowls, he bent down and tucked his beloved kitten onto the sweater he wore, so her head was the only thing seen as it dangled from the neckline of his sweater. “That’s adorable! She just really loves you doesn’t she?” Y/N cooed watching how the kitten peacefully closed her eyes and snuggled closer to Bucky even though he walked around before sitting down beside her, she noticed as well how he didn’t care to remove the mitt on his left hand.

“I was surprised as well with how she loved human touch, which made me think that she isn't a cat but instead a dog, actually,” he shared as she looked at Y/N and smiled as she laughed as she ate. “Though I am curious as to why you’re wearing a sweater when it’s one of the hottest days of July?” As soon as the question left her mouth, she felt how there had been a shift in the atmosphere. How the fun and breezy energy they both were radiating earlier had been converted into something that was stiff and somber.

“I mean, you don’t really need to tell me,” she assured him right away, her right hand reaching for his left forearm and she gently caressed it even though she found it odd how his arm seemed to be more rigid than it looked like, “I was just worried that you might get too hot to the point of dehydration or heat stroke or something like that.” Bucky nodded and went back to ingesting the meal he cooked.

“You’re already hot, but I don’t want you to be too hot to the point you combust,” that comment of hers was something she muttered lowly. But it wasn’t soft enough to get past his super soldier hearing, “Did you say something?” Bucky asked and he tried his best for his facial features to not give away the fact that he heard her clearly. With wide eyes, she just shook her head and quickly filled her mouth with pasta to avoid explaining what it was she said.

Deciding to spare her from shame and embarrassment, he decided to change the topic by asking, “Do you have an itinerary for today?” He looked at her and saw how she had already finished her pasta and was making a move to wash her bowl and utensils, “I’m planning to go for a bit of hike — to test out some items like trekking poles, water jug, backpack, and this windbreaker they made me try out.”

“That sounds fun,” Bucky commented as he placed the fork on his bowl, waiting for her to finish cleaning up, “Would you wanna tag along with me?” as she looked up to ask him, she looked nervous. Perhaps she was filled with doubts and hesitation that she might seem invasive of his privacy, and indeed, that was what she was thinking about.

Smiling warmly at her, Bucky expressed his desire to join her in the hike, “I’d love to join you, doll.”

45 minutes had already passed since they started their hike and there was probably a few more minutes before they would finally reach the higher portion of the mountain. “I think it’s great you agreed to come along with me, Bucky,” the super soldier heard her mention behind him. He was taking the lead and guiding her as she followed him and held on to her trekking poles to stabilize her. “Why’d you think that, doll?” He looked back to her and held his right hand for her to take, to which she did and helped her go higher than to where she was currently.

She let out a breath, which made him chuckle at her antics, “Well for one, I wouldn’t have an amazing tour guide,” she teased him as she jokingly nudged his abdomen with her finger. Normally, Bucky would flinch or turn away when someone he doesn’t really know or is not completely familiar with touches him, especially when it was the metal arm. But this was already the third time she’d touch her and in those three times he did once did not find it uncomfortable.

“And second, I’d get lonely during this trip,” she concluded as she smiled brightly at him. “I’m glad to have joined you as well, doll.” The nickname he gave her made her blush to which he thought that the rose color looked good on her. “And I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s an amazing view behind me. So enjoy the view, doll.” When Bucky moved to the side, that was when Y/N had a chance to fully see the view, and it was unlike anything she has ever seen. The clear lake was breathtaking & the clouds were scattered in the sky though it did not shelter the sunlight. “Wow,” she breathed out and turned to her host and tilted her head when he saw his gloved hands reaching for his backpack and getting a blanket and laid it on the ground. As he sat on it, he patted the spot beside him, a cue for her to take the spot.

Putting her backpack down, she placed the trekking poles beside it before settling on the spot the man beside her patted. “You come here often?” she inquired, she was pretty sure he did since he knew how to get there quickly and safely. “Not everyday, just when I’m bored with housework,” he said as he took off the glove in his right hand.

She nodded and went to get the thermos from her backpack, as well as some chips and chocolates that she offered him, to which the super soldier opted for the chocolate. “So it means you are always here then huh?” she joked to which he laughed loudly, and she thought how adorable it was to see him crinkle the side of his eyes as he carelessly threw his head back in laughter. “I’m serious! You can only do so much housework before you get bored in your house!” she argued.

“Honestly, I’d rather be bored,” Bucky started as he munched on the chocolate she’d given, “For the longest time I was always busy, to put it nicely. And it’s a relief to be ridden of exhausting responsibilities.” Her heart ached at what he said, she might have not fully known what his work was but she could feel the exasperation in his voice. “Sorry for what I said, I was just teasing you,” she offered him a small smile.

Tickling her sides, he relished in the giggles she released, “I know, we don’t need to bring the mood down,” he assured her, “So, what is your review so far of the items you have?” His mention of it did remind her how she needed to take note of how she was satisfied or dissatisfied with the products, shuffling through the things in her backpack, she reached for the notebook which housed the feedback she had for different products.

Writing down her remarks, she also voiced it out for Bucky to hear, “The water jug did keep my water cold. Backpack’s material was not too heavy but it was able to fit all of my items. And this windbreaker,” she struck a pose which once again made Bucky laugh and it made her feel good to know that she can get him to laugh, “Did make me sweat but it’s too thin it’s making me chilly.”

Just as she mentioned how the windbreaker failed to prevent her from feeling cold, there was a gust of cool wind that when she felt it graze her skin, made her visibly shiver. Bucky didn’t like how she frowned on the sensation of being hit with the frosty breeze and wrapped her arms around herself; despite only wearing his sweater and a jacket, he didn’t have to react the same way thanks to the serum. He moved behind her and pressed his chest against her back, wrapping both his arms around her; his right hand wrapped around her stomach while the left hand rested on her thigh.

A sharp intake of breath signified how she was taken aback, but she didn’t find it awkward and instead she found herself instinctively leaning against his chest until the top of her head was just right under his chin. “Is this alright?” she wondered to him, and when she sounded so small, so vulnerable. As he smiled, he comforted her, “Wouldn’t have come close to you if it wasn’t alright, now would I?”

To hide the blush starting to form, she turned away from him and began to write on her notebook about her observations. They sat comfortably in silence; Bucky’s eyes wandered around the scenery, while Y/N was heavily focused on writing the feedback for the different products she got to try so far. The hand on her thigh that was gently caressing her and the steady yet strong heartbeat of the man behind her provided her with a sense of tranquility unlike anything she ever felt.

Leaving the pen on the inside of the notebook, she closed it and placed it beside her backpack. While still looking at the lake she shared with him, “I’ve always wanted to live by the lake.” Not having enough of her warmth and wanting to be close to her, he pushed himself even closer to her, to the point their thighs were now touching each other. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back so the back of her head touched his right shoulder, “Always loved being in the water — whether I’m swimming or rowing a boat. Doesn’t matter what as long as I’m near the water I’m the happiest there.” As she said that he couldn’t help as his mind was filled with the images of the two of them living together and going for daily trips to the lake. And how they’d probably end up fucking or making love by the lake.

Managing to bring himself back to the present, Bucky suggested, “Why not live with me then? That way you’ll always be a few minutes away from the lake.” Her laugh was so loud that he felt the vibrations of it through his chest with how close they were. “Don’t wanna burden you forever, you know? But maybe when I’ve saved enough and I don’t know, have the ability to work from home, I might just move near a lake.”

He frowned at her thought that she considered himself a burden. They’ve spent almost a day and yet he knew in himself how he wanted to spend every day of his life with her. It might seem too soon for that, but he argued that he felt safe with her. That she made him happy. But there was this thought that lingered on his mind; that he was just deprived of affection for the longest time and now that someone’s been showering him with it, he doesn’t want to go a day without experiencing it ever again.

“Well, you’re always welcome in my house, it’s not really much of a home to me anyway,” the optimism in the first part was overshadowed by the sadness in the latter part of his statement. She looked over at Bucky and was saddened to see how his shoulders dropped and there was a sad smile on his lips, “What?” Because what else could she really say?

His eyes refused to meet her concerned orbs, and instead looked at anything but her. “With everything I’ve been through and done, it would be difficult for me to find someone to settle down with.” Upon hearing this, Y/N felt glum with Bucky's response and with how he looked as he said it. She held his right hand and squeezed it reassuringly, “Whatever it is you’ve done and been through is in the past. I’m sure that you’ve changed and grown from who you once were. You deserve to be happy, Bucky.”

What if I wanna be happy with you, baby? He thought to himself for a few seconds, and in a split second decision, he unclasped their hands and reached to where his left hand was still wrapped with a glove. “I’m going to be showing you something, and before you can ask me anything, I’d rather get everything off my chest first, alright?” Y/N looked uneasy yet at the same time curious with what he was going to open up to her.

Untangling his arms from her warmth, he first took care of removing the jacket he wore. She turned to face him and was eager to ask questions but chose to remain silent. As he placed the jacket on top of his bag, he removed the glove that shielded her from fully seeing the lack of flesh on his left hand and instead was greeted with metal.

Y/N lets out a loud gasp as she looks down on the prosthetic arm Bucky had. As her gaze shifted from his hand to his eyes, the super soldier could see how her face wrinkled not in pity, but in worry and concern. What happened? Who did this to you? Did it hurt? Are you still in pain? Those were the four questions that were loitering her mind and Bucky somehow had the idea that those were the things that she had in mind.

“I don’t know if you know, but I was the Winter Soldier. HYDRA, an evil organization, brainwashed me and made me do their dirty work. When they found me, I had fallen off a ravine which made me lose my arm. They gave me a metal one, to make me stronger and more invincible I guess.” Even though he only provided her a summary of what he’s been through, he failed to realize how a few stray tears escaped his eyes. Dainty and delicate fingers wiped his tears away and he smiled at the action.

They both were silent for a few moments, the hundred year old man was bracing himself for the moment Y/N was going to bid him adieu, and he wouldn’t blame her for who would want someone with so much baggage? “You said it yourself, Bucky, you were brainwashed,” she soothed him as her hands settled on his stubbled cheeks and her touch was feather-like and was giving him comfort unlike any other, “That wasn’t what you wanted to do. They forced you to do it. I’m sorry that that happened to you, but you don’t need to let your past define how your future will turn out to be. You’re free now, you take control of your fate.”

She ended her statement by placing a warm kiss on his forehead; the action had Bucky smiling and looking at her sheepishly with crimson in his cheeks. “You’re too kind, doll,” he shyly responded to her assurance. “I meant every word, Bucky. You deserve to be happy,” she then hugged him tight, her smaller frame snuggling into his larger one. With the side of her face resting on his chest and his chin resting on the top of her head, she failed to see how Bucky was smiling widely as a thought and plan came into his mind. I will be happy, baby. Soon, with you.

Following their small heart-to-heart talk, they both went home just as the sun set — not before taking a few pictures of course, mostly of Y/N because Bucky loved how the combination of pink and yellow complimented her skin — so he wanted to take photographs to remind him of this lovely memory. And as they both went home, they bonded even more as they ate dinner.

The following day, however, they both didn’t get to spend as much time as Bucky would have wanted. She told him during breakfast how today she’ll try the pocket WiFi that was given to her. And in the process of doing so she would be having meetings with some of her co-workers. Instead of sulking around, the war veteran tended to his garden, harvesting the vegetables and plants that he deemed were already ready to be eaten, he also washed and dried his laundry, and cleaned Alpine’s litter box.

By the time he had done all his chores, it was already quarter to 5 pm when he settled on continuing to read the book on the porch with Alpine once again laying on his lap. Today’s heat had been more cruel than it was yesterday and with his lovely guest not knowing about the truth of his left arm, he traded the long sleeves for a tank top paired with basketball shorts. Just as he was reading about the climax of the novel, he heard the front door opening and footsteps approaching him, “Hey Bucky, how you doing?”

The mentioned man placed his book down on the table and turned to her with a smile, “Busied myself with housework. Are you done with your test and meetings?” He hoped that she was done with her work, he already missed spending time with her and he wondered that maybe this was what Alpine felt like whenever she wanted to be snuggling next to Bucky. “Yeah I’m done for today! And I was thinking that maybe I can cook something? Was there something you’d like to have for dinner?”

The cheeky part of him thought of telling her how he’d love to have her for dinner but decided he did not want to creep her out. “Surprise me with you culinary skills, doll,” he challenged her and he chuckled with how she responded, “You bet! I’ll make a meal that will make you forget your name with how good it is!”

Throughout the entire time that she made the meal, he kept her company and the conversation between the two flowed effortlessly. Every possible topic that they could talk about, you can bet that they talked about it. And even as they were both eating supper, they both shared more about their personal life. Bucky shared about how things were back in the 40’s and how he missed dancing.; while she shared more about her family and the different jobs she had.

One thing that Bucky was more than pleased to find out was that she was single and had not been dating anyone for a while. After dinner, Y/N found herself wanting to sleep right away due to exhaustion of her work-filled day. But before she did, she asked Bucky if it was alright for them to go back to the lake since she wanted to go for a swim, to which he replied with, “If it’ll make you happy, doll, then I’ll do it.” She masked the giddiness she felt by telling him goodnight and how she couldn’t wait to go.

As the super soldier laid down on his bed, he couldn’t prevent the goofy grin forming on his lips as he recalled how close he got with one of his guests. He never imagined how she could have made this impact on him in a short amount of time. Though he failed to bond with her for the majority of the day, he reassured himself that tomorrow — and possibly the next few days — they’d both get to make up for it. But there was something inside him that seemed too impatient to wait, and instead was extremely eager to start compensating for the time they failed to spend with each other.

Which led him to where he was right now; walking out of his bedroom as he strides with purpose and like a possessed man making his way to where the girl who plagued his mind currently was peacefully sleeping. Quietly, he opened the door just enough for him to take a peek to see if she was startled by the action even though Bucky did so with caution. Not noticing any movement or reaction, he opened the door wide enough to allow himself to enter and closed it as he welcomed himself in her room. Standing at the foot of the bed, he couldn’t help but admire her sleeping form; she was laying on her right side with her right hand pressed to her cheek and her left arm propped down on her waist. He noticed how the end of the blanket that was draped over was along the middle region of her thighs, exposing her lower legs.

He stood there, marveling at how peaceful and how pure she looked. He imagined himself snuggling her frame and providing her with warmth whenever the night got too chilly. Or how he wouldn’t mind her using his metal arm as her pillow as long as he got to run his fingers through her skin in an attempt to lull her to sleep. Or how he would whisper sweet nothings and words of assurance to her should she awake due to a nightmare.

The wholesome and loving thoughts he had took a different turn when her left hand unconsciously bunched up the sheets and moved it away from her body, which exposed her unclothed body to the hungry eyes of Bucky. She laid there with no clothing of any kind and the blanket — which was now pooling between her under boob and just below her navel — now barely concealed her body. His gaze was now roaming around her body and hungirly took in the view; her breasts looking as if it was the most delectable thing he’d ever seen with her gum drop nipples all stiff due to the wind, her luscious legs were just begging to be touched and worshiped, and her cunt, that though he couldn’t properly get an entire view of due to how she was facing the wall but from from where he stood he can see how pretty and enticing it was with how she chose to groom it.

One thing that he was more than grateful for is that her ass was fully exposed and should he choose to sit on the chair that was right across where she laid, he would have gotten a great view of it; and so he did. Sitting down on the chair, he found himself lowering the boxer shorts he wore that suddenly became too tight for his cock that hardened. “Fuck,” he hissed as he began to slowly stroke himself, teasing himself and wanting to savor the view that he had.

From slowly running his hand up and down his shaft, those strokes became fast as his mind was filled with images and scenarios of him taking Y/N in various ways.

“Fuck Bucky, harder,” she moaned as she felt Bucky’s grips on her hips tighten before he controlled her body to match his thrusts, moving her along as he slid in and out of her as a response to her plea. Wanting to feel more of her, one of his hands left her hips to grip her shoulder and pull her to him so her back was pressed against his sweaty chest; to keep her steady and against his chest, the hand on her shoulder detached from her shoulder and moved to hold on to her breast, pulling and tugging on the swollen nipple.

“That what you want, baby girl? Need me to fuck you hard?” He teased her as her whines increased at the assault he was doing to her. She just nodded her head rapidly, but that wasn’t enough for Bucky, he let go of her breast and slapped both of them hard enough to elicit a reaction out of her, “I wanna hear you say it! Say you like getting fucked hard like a slut!”

“I love it! I love how you’re fucking me like a slut, Bucky!” she moaned out loud and found herself hooking her hand to his hand that wasn’t on her hip. The man simply smirked at how much of a wreck she was and he loved it. She guided his hand to her neck and his smirk became even more sinister and he let her know his appreciation, “Yeah you’re just a filthy girl aren’t you,” his grip on her neck tightened and he felt her tighten and got the hint that she was close, “And since I love my filthy girl, why don’t you come for me?”

Bucky knew he was nearing his climax, but he decided that the visual wasn’t enough for him; he needed the actual thing. Completely undressing himself, he walked towards where she was laying and turned her gently so she now laid on her back. “Goddamn you’re beautiful, baby,” he whispered as he kneeled on the bed and his knees were on the sides of her body. He stretched her left leg to the outside of his right knee, her inner thigh grazing his knee. While he lifted her right leg and let it rest on his shoulder.

Rubbing his right hand on her clit, he felt how wet she already was and slid a finger in, moving his finger around, he took note of how she was completely drenched. “I guess you pleasured yourself before sleeping huh?” Pulling his finger out and bringing it to his lips, his suspicion was confirmed as he tasted her sweet juices.

“This’ll be easier then,” he sighed as he pushed his cock in and slid in one swift motion thanks to her juices. He stared off with slow and long thrusts, checking to see if she’ll wake up — thankfully she didn’t. He then took this as his queue to give her harder thrusts, pulling out until his tip lightly brushes the opening of her tight canal and pushing all the way in with force until his balls were pressed tightly against her ass.

“Can’t wait for you to enjoy this when you’re awake doll,” Bucky rasped out in between his thrusts, which were now slowly becoming faster. The speed of his hips were causing the bed to shake and he feared that if it weren’t for his actions, then maybe the sound of the bed hitting the wall would cause her to regain consciousness. But she was so deep in her slumber that she didn’t.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum inside of you. Will mix my juices with yours,” Bucky moaned lowly. And he felt his climax nearing that his judgement was clouded and his sole focus was to let himself go. So he moved around in the bed until his feet hit the floor and spread her both legs wide open to the sides, all without pulling himself out.

Placing his hands on both her inner thighs, he pressed them down and didn’t hold back as he slammed his cock in and out of her pussy. His pelvis met her thighs with each thrust, his hands tightly holding on to her thighs which somehow made her clench down on him even more, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of her breasts bouncing along with the power of his hips, and the tip of the iceberg was when she began letting out small and quiet whimpers.

“Shit, you’re squeezing me so well baby,” he breathed out as he slammed himself inside her and stayed planted in here as he felt himself release his load. Head thrown back and panting loudly, she whimpered a little and was clenching her pussy which milked even more of Bucky’s seed. She must be dreaming of someone fucking her, God I hope it’s me she’s thinking about, Bucky thought as he pulled his cock out until only the tip was inside her; he stroked the part of his cock that wasn’t inside her, making sure that every last drop of his seed didn’t drip into the bed and was instead all inside her.

After taking a few minutes to recover, he pulled out completely and positioned her in the bed prior to how she was before he came in. He grabbed his discarded boxers and put them on him. Before walking out of the room he went back to the bed, leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Can’t wait to swim with you baby girl.”

Arising from her sleep, Y/N stretched her body and rubbed the sleepiness off her eyes. She couldn’t help but grin at the memories of how she pleasured herself before she drifted off to dreamland and when she did, her subconscious was somehow able to project a scenario wherein she was getting railed by Bucky. The mention of his name in her mind had her blushing; she brought her fingers down to her pussy to inspect the aftermath of her masturbation and was surprised to see how wet she was and how much she orgasmed.

Before making her way down to greet her host, she first dressed up in her bikini, however she didn’t want to walk down right away only with the flimsy pair, so she wore a tank top and a pair of shorts on top of the swimwear. Making her way down the stairs, she saw Bucky relaxing on the couch and was on his phone, “Good morning, Bucky. Did you sleep well?”

She plopped herself down at the armchair opposite where Bucky was sitting, and the metal-armed man fumbled to pocket his phone and turn his attention to the girl who warmly greeted him. “I slept peacefully, doll. Where are you headed all dressed up like that?”

“I was hoping we could have brunch by the lake? And then swim afterwards?” She shyly suggested and it was adorable for the veteran to see her all shy and flustered, he didn’t have it in him to reject her idea. “That’s a great idea, doll! I’ve already prepared some food that I can just pack up in tupperwares,” just as he was about to head to the kitchen to do so she stood quickly and told him, “I can do it! My bag’s all ready and I’m dressed up so I can do all those while you get ready.”

He smiled and thanked her for volunteering, he let her know where the tupperwares and picnic baskets were before heading up to change. As he was changing in his room into a navy tank top along with a pair of shorts, he decided that today was the day. He was gonna make his move and let him know that he wants her here with him.

The drive to the lake had been peaceful; Bucky offered to drive and she accepted so she was left to admire the scenery as they both traveled to their destination. Once Y/N caught a glimpse of the lake, she had already been fumbling to unbuckle her seatbelt and before Bucky had fully parked the car, the front passenger door was already being opened and the woman beside him carried her bag as she excitedly ran towards the dock.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, doll! Be careful!” He called out to her as he switched off the engine and moved to grab the picnic basket at the backseat. Catching up to where she was standing near the edge of the dock, she turned to him and smiled, “I’m sorry, I just get really excited when I see the water. Plus, it’s been forever since I got to swim,” her exaggeration in the apology had him chuckling and he simply put the basket down and took out the blanket he had and laid it out.

Kneeling down, Bucky then rummaged through the items on the basket, “What do you wanna eat, doll? Want to have some muffins? I also have some bacon if you want,” he looked up to see that his lovely doll was stripping off her top and bottoms, with her back facing him. She folded her clothes and placed it on top of her bag, she turned to him and smiled, “I don’t wanna eat, I want to swim first.”

The super soldier barely got to process the words that left her mouth as he was admiring the swimsuit she was wearing, “That’s a pretty bikini you have there, doll,” he mindlessly blurted out. She blushed at the praise and he noticed as well how she rubbed her luscious thighs and it got him thinking that maybe she had a praise kink. “It’s one of the eight swimsuits they sent me,” was all she said before she waived and ran towards the end of the dock and jumped as she splashed down on the lake.

Fuck, one of eight swimsuits? She’s trying to kill me. He thought to himself as he felt his cock start to harden at the thought of seeing her in her swimwear and possibly railing her as she wears it. But first, he thought he had to eat up before making those plans and desires come true.

Y/N was having fun just swimming around. The lake had clear and clean water. She was able to see her feet and the sandy floor through the water. The lack of seaweeds and other aquatic plants on the lake was something she was thankful for since she loathed swimming around and feeling something grazing her leg.

Quite some time had already passed since Y/N began swimming and Bucky was just sitting there as he ate and was staring at her every movement. “Come join me, Bucky! The water’s not too cold, it’s perfect!” he smiled and put the muffin he was munching on down and moved to take his shirt off.

Her mouth hung agape and a little bit of drool came out of her mouth as she gazed on the man’s body. He was toned and defined; her fingers ached to run it through his wide chest and shoulders and she would have also loved to feel his bulging arms wrapped around her. She was snapped out of her thoughts as she heard a big splash and felt the water moving against her.

“Hi there, beautiful,” having this Adonis of a man face her and greet her sweetly had her giggling. “Good for you to join me; was starting to think you didn’t know how to swim that’s why you didn’t wanna join me,” her accusation had him gasping and feigning hurt. “You really think that lowly of me, doll?”

Y/N swam away from Bucky, creating some distance between them; this had the man tilting his head to the side in curiosity. “Don’t tell me you’re easily hurt by that! I wonder what happens if I challenge you to a splash fight?” Just as she said that she began to flick her wrists to splash some water in Bucky’s direction.

They both were giggling as they both began to soak each other with water. After a while they both stopped and Y/N let her arms float on the water as she stared at the man adoringly; while he thought that it was finally time to speed things up. Swimming towards her, he erased the distance between them and held both her hands against his chest. He felt her breath quicken and she was staring at him with wide and inquisitive eyes.

Lifting both her wrists, he placed a long and sensual kiss on the insides of her wrists. A sharp intake of breath was heard from her lips and he rested her forearms on his shoulders as his flesh hand pulled her closer to him by the hips while his metal hand gently caressed her cheek, “Had your fun already, baby girl?”

With a flushed face she nodded and pursed her lips together, “Don’t do that princess, that’s my job,” Bucky reprimanded her as he brushed his metal thumb in her lips but quickly moved the hand towards the nape of her neck and pulled her close for their lips to collide. He swallowed her whimper of shock and took the opportunity to let his tongue inside her mouth.

Slanting his head, he deepened the kiss as his flesh hand moved to wrap her thigh around his hips in order to get their bodies as close as possible and to feel every inch of her. Bucky smirked as he felt her tongue dancing along with the direction of his tongue and when he felt her hands cup his cheeks he couldn’t hold himself back from placing both his hands to grab her bikini-covered bum and grind her core to his.

“Oh God,” she whimpered against his lips, as if she was starting to pull away; but Bucky didn’t want her to do so, so he chased her lips with his and planted it firmly against her, leaving her no room but to comply with what he wanted.

Her hands traveled down from his cheeks to his neck and down to his shoulders, where she anchored herself to separate her tongue from roaming around his mouth. Her chest was heaving up and down as she stared down at Bucky who was loving this out of breath and dazed state she was in, “What was that?”

Her question made him chuckle darkly before teasing her, “That was just a preview of what’s to come, baby,” this just confused her even more and she tilted her head but he simply removed his hands from her body and she whined at the loss of contact — which Bucky thought as completely adorable — but he kissed her forehead, “Enjoy your swim doll, a few more minutes then we go home, got it?” She nodded and watched as he swam his way to the docks and busied himself with drying himself up and packing up their picnic.

She shrugged off the million thoughts racing through her head and decided that swimming would probably help her clear her head.

Something in the air shifted as they both were driving home after spending nearly two hours by the lake. While keeping his eyes on the road, Bucky’s metal hand was on the steering wheel while his flesh hand was gripping and caressing Y/N’s thighs. He loved how she didn’t flinch when he did so and instead she enveloped his hand with both her thighs.

Upon arriving back at the home, Bucky opened the car door for her and she smiled and thanked him. As he went to retrieve the picnic basket, his doll went ahead to get inside the house and it was finally time for him to make his move.

Placing the basket down on the floor without a care, he grabbed her hand as she was headed for the stairs; her bag falling off her shoulders as a result. “Bucky,” she was cut off as Bucky planted his lips against her and pulled her by the hips to feel her skin against his. She moaned out loud and he smirked as he once again let his tongue inside her and began to roam her insides and massaged her tongue with his.

“I fucking need you, baby,” he rasped out without fully disconnecting his lips from hers, “You gonna let me have you?” she whimpered and simply nodded. This made Bucky happy, and to show his appreciation, he kissed her neck and her collarbones as his hands quickly ripped the material of her shirt against her. A loud gasp was let out, and it informed the man who was vigorously kissing her that she was turned on with what he did.

Placing his hands behind her hips, he guided her walk with him to the couch with his lips still attached to her hot skin. They both worked to remove her of her shorts before Bucky was pushing her to sit down on the couch. “Don’t take your bra off, remove those panties, I wanna see your ass,” he commanded as his eyes roamed around her body as he took his shirt and shorts off, revealing that he didn’t have any underwear on.

“Press your cheek against the sofa and put your ass up in the air for me, princess,” he groaned upon seeing her full ass on display. He smacked both her cheeks at the same time and chuckled as she shook her ass in response. One hand had a firm grip on her hip while the other stroked his cock and teased the tip on her clit. “You ready, baby? Want to feel my cock inside you?”

She nodded, “Yes please, Bucky, I need to feel you push your cock inside me,” by the end of her whining he had already slid inside her and pushed it all the way until she felt his balls slap against her ass. She let out a dragged moan as he let out profanities and praises about how she enveloped him well.

Pulling his hips back, he thrust right back in which made her moan once again. His other hand was now teasing her clit by rubbing it and he felt her coat his cock with more of her juices. “God, you feel like heaven, princess. Wrapping your tight pussy around me so good,” he threw his head back but his hips were doing the opposite. His pelvis was slamming deep and fast against her that her ass was feeling the friction of his trimmed pubic hair.

“It’s so good, Bucky. Love how you’re pounding me,” the praise and small amount of dirty talk was enough for Bucky to groan and drive his hips even deeper and stronger, if that was even possible. “Fuck you’re so dirty, doll. My dirty doll, right?” he asked as he wrapped a handful of her hair against him and pulled her against him; her back against his chest and he could her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

Untying her bra, he tossed it on the floor and both his hands began to twist, pinch, pull, and flick on her nipples. Palming her breasts, he continued to spur him on with his words, “Who knew how much of a filthy princess you were huh? That you were really a slut wanting to get fucked?” she whined out loud and this prompted Bucky to sit down on the couch and drag her with him; ending up in a position that would allow her to ride him. “Ride me, bitch. Ride me ‘til we both cum,” he was surprised with how she eagerly responded to his command.

She leaned back and planted her hands on his abs and began to lift her body up and down, moving her pussy in and out of his cock. With one hand resting at the back of his head, the other was slapping her ass that was bouncing up and down on him. “Only a slut like yourself knows how to ride a cock this good, baby,” his statement ended with a groan as she stopped her bouncing and was instead sitting with his cock fully inside her, and she began to move in slow and hard circles. As if she was grinding on his dick.

“God, I’m so close, you got me near my edge, slut,” Bucky groaned and slapped both her ass cheeks at the same time, “Face me, baby. Turn around and face me, without leaving my cock.” He grinned as she halted her movements and twisted her body so she was greeted with the sight of Bucky’s chest sweaty and a smirk planted on his lips.

He sat up from his lying position and sat up so their chest were pressed firmly against each other, “Are you close, baby?” She threw her head back and nodded as Bucky began to move his hips so he could match the way she was sliding up and down his cock. Slapping her cheek, not too hard but enough to get her to look at him, he growled, “Tell me, princess. Tell me you’re close and that you wanna cum.”

Her mouth opened but a moan came out of her, he gave her a particularly harsh thrust and she finally gave in, “I wanna cum, Bucky, I need to. Please let me cum on your cock.” He smirked, satisfied with her answer and took control of the tempo of the way she was riding him. Holding on hard enough on her hips, enough to leave marks, he began to lift her up and down on him; he was lifting her up so fast that she barely had time to breathe and the way he slammed her was so hard he could hear their skin slapping against each other.

“You’re squeezing my cock so good, baby” Bucky groaned and he felt how close she was but needed added stimulation to let herself go. He lowered his mouth to cover her nipple with his lips; the sensation of licking and sucking hard on her nipple coupled with the cruel hip thrusts he was giving into her was enough for Y/N to grip on his shoulders and plant her lips on the top of his head, “Bucky, fuck,” was all she was able to let out as a warning for the orgasm that washed over her.

After feeling her juices drip down, there was something primal in him that made him more determined than ever to blow his load; so he removed his mouth from her nipple and laid her down on her back and moved to lift her legs, phishing them to her chest. “You gonna take my cum, baby? Gonna let me put it all in you?” He was thrusting violently, there was no rhythm but just him ruthlessly sliding his cock in and out of her tight canal, his mind was filled with images of her staying here with him, building a life together.

“Bucky, I’m so sensitive,” she squealed, and the man just smirked and to her surprise she just slammed his hips faster. He looks beautiful like this, she thought, but there was a part of her that thought she might explode if he continued his brutal assault on her body; and she was starting to get sleepy. Bucky slammed his cock all the way in until his balls were against her ass and stayed there, “Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he moaned as he emptied his balls and shoved all his cream inside her.

He looked down on his precious angel and smiled at the sight of her with her eyes closed, running a finger to her face, just admiring her post-sex glow and the way she was all sweaty. He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, “You did so well for me, baby.”

Without removing his cock from her, he moved to carry her, with ease he then brought both of them upstairs and into his room. Upon entering, he saw that Alpine was still lazily sleeping on the bed he got her and smiled, “I got you a mommy already, Al,” he whispered and felt himself harden again at the nickname he’d given the lovely girl in his arms.

Laying the both down, he wrapped both his arms around the sleeping beauty beside him and kissed her lips once more, “Welcome home, doll.”

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anxiouslymalicious · 5 years ago

Text

Losers Club Plus One

Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series

A/N: Hi there! I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a long while, but writing became more of a duty than something enjoyable so I took some time off and did some shit. I’m feeling really fucking good now, ready to get back into writing. I’m kind of nervous to post this because this is my first time writing for this fandom and the characters and I’m not sure if this is good, but it’s fun to write so I hope you guys stick with me.

This is going to be as close to the movie as possible, but there will be inserts of the book, maybe even of the 90ies movies if I feel like they would work better with the slightly off plot that I’m creating. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Oh, and the usual warnings for cursing, death, mentions of blood and alcohol etc. apply. It’s IT so shit is going down.

I hope you enjoy!

“Dad? Are you alright?” asked a small voice behind Richie as he was still in utter shock. Well, the owner of the voice wasn’t exactly small anymore, but it sounded so hesitant and broken, it might as well had been a little kid trying to catch his attention. His throat was still burning, the foul taste of bile laid heavily on his tongue. Richie’s face scrunched up in disgust as another wave if nausea hit him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good- “ He started, but was interrupted by himself as he leant over the railing and more of his stomach’s content escaped. The young girl stepped closer to her father, lying her hand on his back in a comforting manner before a group of people busied her father again, giving him booze and water before his show.

“Be good, little one.” Richie rushed out as he passed his phone to his daughter who would take it to his dressing room where it wouldn’t be any more of a distraction than it had been so far. The girl nodded and sent a smile his way, but he didn’t catch it anymore as he stormed out onto the huge stage, greeted by cheers. The smile was quickly wiped off the girl’s face as she made her way through the narrow hallways filled with too many people for her liking. Ducking under equipment, dodging people in suits who were too busy looking at their phones to realise where they were going and ignoring the voices of people telling her that she was not supposed to go into certain areas. She was, they just didn’t know, so she showed them her backstage pass and kept walking until she saw the door to her safety. Once she stepped into the stuffy room that reeked of cigarettes and alcohol, she closed the door behind her, locked it and made herself comfortable on the little couch.

Her father’s phone was buzzing in the young girl’s pocket, catching her attention. Who in hell had called and what did they say to throw her father so out of track? Judging by the nervous voices around her in the hallways, she was sure that her father wasn’t off to a good start for the show, something that hadn’t happened in ages. Not since his first actual show.

The girl was absent-mindedly biting her nails before another buzz of her father’s phone pulled her out of it and she decided to have a look. Richie’s phone was blowing up with messages from his manager, which she decided to ignore as she checked the calls. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that Richie had been called by someone from Derry, Maine, but a bit of deeper digging told her that it was actually the local library’s number. Rather than reaching the sweet relief of knowing, she felt her insides churn with fear and confusion, feeling restless until she heard the familiar ruckus that ensued when her father was close to finishing a show.

It had felt like literal ages since Richie had left for the stage and the young girl was eager to ask her father about what was going on. Especially after that whole library-thing. Obviously, she had checked several times that she got the number right, and she did. Was her father throwing up because he was so nervous over a few overdue books from years ago?

The whole time she spent waiting, the girl tried to figure out whether her father had been on tour in Derry, whether he had even mentioned Derry ever before, but she was sure that, in her years of living with her father, she had never so much as heard him utter the word ‘Derry’ ever before.

Quickly, the girl moved to unlock the door so her father wouldn’t run into the door again like he had many times already, then sat down on the couch again, her leg bouncing nervously as she mindlessly tapped her fingers against the phone in her hand.

It wasn’t long until Richie stormed into the room, locking every unnecessary person out and turned to his daughter, drink in hand, holding his other hand out for her to pass him his phone. She did, following their usually so quiet routine. After spending more than an hour talking endlessly about whatever jokes they had put into the set, he was grateful when he could spent a few minutes not saying anything, just listening to the voice of his daughter telling him about what had happened in school that day, telling him what stupid things someone backstage did or what she and her friends were up to. It was relaxing to him, knowing that she was there, and her life was going somewhere.

But not this time.

“Dad why did the Derry library call you?” she asked with the calmest voice she could muster, although her voice was shaking with fear. Of what, she didn’t know, not yet, but she knew it was something big. Something bigger than her or him. Something bigger than overdue books and the terrifying old ladies that would scold you and make you feel like crying even when it had only been a day overdue.

“It wasn’t the library, it was,” Richie sighed before taking another sip of his drink, “It was an old friend of mine. Mike Hanlon. We made a promise when we were kids and now, I need to go back to Derry.” Richie mumbled into his glass. Nonetheless, she understood every single word he said.

“We.” She said, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she got up from where she was curled up on the couch.

“No. Definitely not. You’re staying here.” Richie said before downing the rest of his drink and looking through the cabinets for a new bottle.

“On my own? Or with my non-existent mother who left me at your door, remember? Or with the neighbours? The creepy ones with all those fucking life-size dolls?” she asked, her voice growing louder.

“Oh, fuck off, you’re lucky you’re my daughter, Y/N.” Richie said before letting his own body drop to the couch she had previously occupied. “Shouldn’t have let you watch my shows. Big Bill is going to love you.” Richie grumbled, rubbing his face. A grin spread on Y/N’s face as she sat next to her father, lightly leaning her head against his shoulder. Automatically, Richie’s arm spread over her shoulder, pulling her closer, trying to keep her safe from what was about to come. From the inhuman atrocities she was about to witness. Keep her safe from IT.

“When are we leaving?” she mumbled into Richie’s shoulder. Another sigh escaped his lips.

“As soon as possible.” He told her and, so, she found herself in an airplane not much later. They would fly as close to Derry as possible before taking a rental car to drive to the Derry Town House where they would be staying.

“What was Derry like? And your friends?” Y/N asked curiously as they found their seats on the plane. She watched as her father stared straight ahead for a few seconds, eyebrows furrowed, as he was deep in thought.

“I- I don’t- I can’t fucking remember. I honestly can’t remember shit, Y/N.” Richie mumbled, followed by a groan as an indescribable pain shot through his eyes. He closed them tightly, his hands flying to the armrests, fingernails digging into the material. Y/N watched on, shocked to say the least. Shaking her father, she tried to find out what was wrong with him, but as suddenly as this burning pain in his eyes, behind his eyes, had appeared, it had also gone.

“Don’t worry, I’m fucking fantastic.” Richie grumbled towards his worried daughter as he leant back in his seat, trying to remember where that came from, why it felt so familiar.

After many tiresome hours that were mostly spent sleeping, with rare exceptions of Richie mumbling to string his memories together, using her as some kind of journal to keep track of what he remembered and how his memories were connected, the father-daughter-duo found themselves just outside the airport, looking for the car they rented, on wobbly legs. The sunset was about to start, the sun lazily rose, turning the deep dark blue into a pale, greyish-blue colour that slowly but surely turned into a pinkish hue.

“Did you fall asleep standing or are you just being the same lazy ass as always?” Richie screamed, standing in front of the car that seemed to be theirs. And, for the first time in many hours, Y/N could see the outlines of a genuine smile growing on her father’s face. And she couldn’t help but smile with him.

“Just wanted you to do all the searching, old man.” She grinned as she took her bag to the car and got in. Richie, obviously, searched for a radio station that played some good old rock’n’roll to distract him for the fear rising in the pit of his stomach. He was scared, but he wouldn’t admit it to his daughter. Because he wasn’t only afraid of IT and the things IT might do not only to him, but also his friends or, worst of all, his daughter, but Richie was afraid of facing his old friends. Or more those who would appear. He didn’t have high hopes for them, expecting that maybe three of them would appear and he would be able to take his and his daughter’s ass out of the town first thing after the lunch because they were not enough to defeat IT.

That thought kept Richie sane as he walked up the scarily unfamiliar yet strangely street towards the Town House. Shivers ran up and down his spine and he felt Y/N’s comforting hand on his back, trying her best to ground him. And, just like her father, Y/N wouldn’t admit that she was scared. She hadn’t seen what he had, she didn’t know what she was facing, what was so chilling about this town, its residents and its sewers, but she had never seen her father this quiet before. And that scared her.

Once they arrived in their small room, the duo sat down on the edges of their beds, silence taking over. The sun had meanwhile risen higher, clearly visible and warming the cool streets.

“Maybe we should order breakfast or nap a bit?” the young girl broke the unbearable silence, pregnant with unspoken opinions. Richie still thought she shouldn’t be here with him, but in their house back in LA. Y/N, however, was convinced that her father needed her support with whatever he was about to do. He still refused to tell her about IT, still hoping that they would be gone in a few hours and she didn’t need to be scared of something they couldn’t do anything about, something they didn’t need to fight.

Richie nodded, kicked off his shoes with a sigh and laid back on his bed. His daughter grew irritated.

“Maybe you can order something while I’m taking a shower. Maybe then you’ll have your panties untwisted.” The girl said before stepping into the small room, closing and locking the door behind her. What she didn’t expect, though, was to come face to face with a boy her age. He looked like a normal kid, soft curls surrounding his face, but there was something off about him.

“I see, the loser’s newest addition finally made it to Derry. And she has just as many secrets as all the other losers.” Said the boy with a chilling smile on his thin lips.

“What the actual fuck are you doing here and how the fuck did you get in here? You know what? Doesn’t matter right now. Just please get the fuck out.” She growled, puzzled at how neither she nor Richie had noticed a teenage boy hiding in their bathroom. Hadn’t her father used the bathroom when they first entered?

As she turned to unlock the door, an ice-cold hand laid itself on her shoulder, pulling her back into the cold body behind her. She now squirmed, trying to unlock and open the door rather frantically, desperate to get away from whatever ghostly being was behind her, but no matter how hard she tried, which way she turned the key, it did nothing to open the door.

“Dad!” she yelled, hammering her hands against the wood. “Help me! Some creep is in here and I can’t get out.” Richie was up in a flash, his heart feeling like it just dropped to his stomach, and ran to the door, yelling his little girl’s name in despair and banging his fists against the old door.

“Y/N, whatever you’re seeing is not real. Don’t be scared, it’s not real!” Richie screamed, his voice clear but shaky. The girl was confused at his utterances.

“How is he not-“ she started, but stopped when the boy was grinning at her, now looking older than before and covered head to toe in blood that was streaming from the huge cuts on his lower arms. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” she forced out instead and tried to get as far away from the being as possible.

“Don’t worry, Richie. She will float with all the other children and your dirty little secret will remain uncovered.” It said in a high voice that didn’t fit the man in front of the girl before trying to grab her throat. Y/N tried to duck away, but she felt her body being pushed forward against the sink, her head crashing against the mirror, breaking it.

“Y/N! Try to hurt it! It’s not real! Not real, it’s not real!” Richie kept yelling through the door as he kept kicking and throwing his whole body against the fragile wood. Although his words were meant to comfort his daughter, it sounded more like a mantra he was using to comfort himself. The girl listened to her father, picking up some of the shards that were now in the sink. With a swift movement, she sunk the shard into the older man’s face, pulling it down as hard as she could. A huge gash was on the man’s bloody face, but instead of more blood, some black mass seeped out of the wound, but whatever it was that was standing in front of the teenager, it didn’t seem too phased. An angry expression formed on its face before it leaped for her, grasping her throat and pushing her up against the wall. She was gasping, desperate to fill her lungs with the oxygen they were already lacking, but not yet screaming for. She squirmed, hammering the shard in her hand against the thing, successfully hurting it. It let go of her, dropping her into the bathtub below her before fleeing through the toilet.

Richie finally managed to break down the door, falling into the room only to find his daughter shaken up beyond belief, curled up in the bathtub. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes while blood streamed down her suddenly paler than usual complexion from an open wound on her forehead. She didn’t look like she had seen a ghost, she looked like she was the ghost.

“Oh god, come here. I- fuck. It’s alright, it’s over. You’re alright. Fucking hell, you’re alright.” Richie mumbled as he crawled into the bathtub with her, pulling his little girl into his arms, tightly pressing her shaking body into his chest. Soft whimpers escaped her lips against her will. Richie spread out a little, legs hanging out of the bathtub as he just tried to comfort her while trying not to lose it and leave immediately. Back to LA, where IT couldn’t reach them.

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freetobcubed · 4 years ago

Text

For Louis

I wrote this story for a competition. Not even an honorable mention, which I’ll be honest, is a stab in the heart because I really poured my soul into this one. Better luck next time, I guess, but here’s the story:

The notebook’s small and faded. The little thing is speckled with dust and the spine is bent to a near-ninety-degree angle except where it’s belted shut with a shoelace. I shouldn’t care; there are real books in the yard sale, books that aren’t falling apart. But I’m curious. Why bother to keep basically scraps?

I throw the thing on top of my pile of books. The eighty cents will come from the money I’ll make selling the others online. I pay for my loot and load it into the trunk of my ’93 Pontiac. I stop, snag the notebook, and tuck it into my coat with my COVID mask.

On my drive home, I get stopped at this intersection that’s seen an accident. Annoyed, but with nowhere to be, I throw the car in park and pull the little black book out. I try the knot in the shoelace with my fingernails before realizing it’s just loose enough to slide off.

Twelve hundred-dollar bills kerflumph into my lap.

I choke. My mind spins as I cough; what in the world? That’s a grand. Where—do I have to return it? How—

No, I don’t have to return it, I reason as I finish spluttering. Nervously, subconsciously, I glance at the cops in the intersection. They aren’t even aware that I exist. Besides, I paid for the notebook. It’s not my fault that that girl didn’t know.

Feeling slightly better, I open the notebook. Three more hundred-dollar bills fall out.

No way.

I flip the notebook around. Peeking out between stained pages are more bills. One per page. I do a quick calculation in my head.

“That’s twenty thousand dollars,” I say aloud, stupefied. That’s insane. Thoughts tumble through my head: riding in an airplane to Europe. Paying my overdue rent. Do I have to pay taxes on this? Amazon, and the things I saved there for “someday.” A full cart at Walmart.

Unsure what else to do, I start to read.

“June 9, 1983

Today I am a dad. I’m a dad! Louis is so small, so perfect, so… what do you say about a baby? It’s all been said before. But this is my baby. My son. He has tiny toes and he eats until it hurts Marie (and then some.) I’m looking forward to playing catch and eating burgers together, and then I stare down at the blanket-bundle and tears fill my eyes because he’s here, he’s real, and he is mine. Ours. Marie’s and mine. My boy. My son.”

“Hey!” I glance up, the words of the book and the words of the cop waving me forward blending in my brain because twenty thousand dollars is still swirling around up there too. I put the Pontiac in drive, my left hand trying to cover the fortune in my lap just in case the officer looks through the window.

I race home. I stuff the bills in my pocket, worrying about neighbors. I try to walk normally, but I feel shifty. Nervous. I run through my crappy apartment, then dump the money onto my bed, triple-checking that I’ve gotten every bit out of my pockets.

Then I flip the book, pinching the spine, and wag the pages.

A rain of cash descends to the quilt Mom made for me. Mom. Mom could use a hundred bucks. I suppress the generosity. This money is mine now, and I definitely need it. Mom will be okay.

I’m tired. I climb into the unmade bed, careful not to knock the bills onto the floor where they could vanish under the bed or the laundry, and I read again.

“July 4, 1983

Louis’ first Independence Day. He doesn’t care, except when the neighbors set off fireworks that woke him. I’m not sure if the baby or Marie was more upset, but Louis screamed more. I decided this journal is for when he graduates high school; I put a hundred dollars in the back. It’s more than we can afford, but this is our son. And I can always take the money back out, I guess. I just wanted to say: I love you, son. I’m already proud of you, and you’re just a little lump on the floor.”

Something in me twitches. I don’t think my father ever said he was proud of me, even when I was—what was it? I glance back at the page. A little lump.

“December 25, 1983

It’s been a little while since I wrote for you, son. Work has been… insane. You’re rolling now. I saved another hundred for you, tucked it in the back with the other one. I’m sorry you’re not getting much this Christmas, but we’re doing our best, and as your mom points out, you don’t care. Not this year.

January 1, 1984

Happy New Year, Louis!

You’re almost seven months old. Hard to believe. You’re nearly ready to sit on your own, and even better—your mom is getting past the baby blues. It’s nice to get my wife back. Don’t feel bad, son, but it’s been hard. I always said I wanted two kids, but now I hope you’re okay with being an only child.

If I could convince you to sleep, that would be something—though it’s nice to cuddle you in the rocking chair at night. Your mom gets you most of the time—boy, you eat a lot!—but after you’re done, I take you and we rock. Sometimes I sing. You won’t remember me singing, because I don’t do it where adults can hear, but for now, you seem to like Dad’s rusty voice. Who knows? Maybe you’re knocking yourself out so you don’t have to listen anymore. I‘d understand.”

My phone rings, and I jump, searching around for it with one hand.

“Hello?”

“Tim? It’s Grandma.” I know. But telling Grandma that won’t keep her from identifying herself on the phone or signing her texts.

“Hi,” I respond, unsure what Grandma wants.

“Are you going to come change my lightbulbs today?”

Crap. I was. Mom has been haranguing me to help Grandma, guilting me with the idea of an old lady living alone, in quarantine, in the dark. Stupid COVID—normally, Grandma’s neighbors change the lightbulbs and stuff, but she’s been insisting to Mom that I need to do it now. As if a pizza delivery guy has less germs than her work-from-home neighbor. Whatever.

“Sorry, Grandma.” I find my keys. “I’ll be over in half an hour.”

“What, dear?”

“I’ll be over in half an hour!” I all but shout into the phone. Then I hang up before she can babble at me. I look at the money; my room is private, but my roommate is nosy. I go to the kitchen and, after hunting in the cupboard, come up with an almost-empty bread bag. I hurry back to my room, eating the last slice, and stuff the money inside.

Bring it or hide it? I consider for a minute. Finally I throw the bag and the notebook into my pocket.

I climb into my car. Grandma’s house is ten minutes away and I have twenty—oops. I pull out the notebook. Suddenly, it hits me—the money was still inside. What happened to Louis? How did the yard sale lady end up with the notebook, and the twenty grand?

I check the inside front cover, find an address. Finch Drive isn’t even that far away--I verify with my GPS.

I don’t even know what I’m hoping. It’s been, what, almost forty years since Louis was born? I open the notebook again, this time to the last page.

“February 18, 1999

I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry I’m going to miss so much. Your high school graduation. Your college graduation. Your wedding, your children. I was excited. I think you were too.

And you won’t really remember who I was. I mean, we have a lot of great memories together. Lots of catch and burgers. But we’ll never have an adult-to-adult relationship, and I’m really, really sad about that.

In a selfish way, I hope you’re sad too. I hope you miss me. Is that terrible? Anyway, I guess the best I can do is leave you with some advice.

Be a good person, Louis. You’re a good kid. Take care of your mom. Heck, take care of my mom. Be smart. Be hardworking. But most of all, be kind.

I love you, kid.

-Dad

P.S. Cancer is the pits.”

I stare at the last few words. “Cancer is the pits.”

I can’t do it. I can’t leave Louis hanging. I turn the car on, head to Finch Drive. Knock.

A lady answers. She’s 60-something.

“Are you Marie? I’m sorry—I totally forgot my mask.”

“Yes, I’m Marie.”

She’s puzzled, I can see it in the top half of her face, the only part showing. Funny, I thought somehow that she‘d be blonde, like Mom.

“I found this,” I say, holding out the journal. “It belongs to Louis. From his dad.”

She gasps as she looks down, and a tear splatters onto the cover. One more spot among dozens.

“I—how—”

“And, um,” I’m not sure how to explain, so I pull the bread bag out. “This was in the pages. It’s for you. Or, for Louis.

“Is he okay? Louis?”

She nods mutely, her shaking hand moving up to take the little black notebook. She doesn’t even look at the money, just stares at the book. I realize I never replaced the shoelace.

“He’s actually here.” She turns. “Louis!” A guy pops out a second later. His hair is dark and messy, like Harry Potter’s.

“You okay, Mom?” He asks. She nods. He squints at me, like he’s trying to decide if I made his mom cry on purpose.

“Your dad wrote that for you,” I say, waving a hand at the notebook Marie clutches. “And he left this.”

“My—” Louis stops talking as he realizes that the bread bag is full of money. A bread bag full of dough, I realize silently, trying not to laugh. “My dad?”

“I found the book at a yard sale. With the money inside. I read some of it—sorry.”

“It must have been in what I donated,” Marie says with a sniffle. “This young man—” She pauses, looking at me.

“Tim,” I supply.

“Tim. You brought Dennis home to us.”

“Dennis?” I blink a few times.

“My dad,” Louis says, and I nod idiotically.

“I didn’t consider his first name—I just thought of him as “Louis’ dad.” I mutter.

“He’d have liked that.” Marie smiles under her mask.

“Well, thanks,” I say, and hold the bread bag out again.

“’Thanks’?” Louis asks. “Thank you,” He stares at the bag. “Can I give you some of that? A finder’s fee? Times are tough.”

I swallow, and it comes down hard.

“Nah,” I say, and I fake a smile.

“But—” Louis’ eyes find the Pontiac.

“I got this,” I say. “I’m alright. Besides, your dad saved that for you.”

Louis nods, takes the bag, and puts his arm around his mom.

“Thank you, Tim. Really. I wish you’d known my dad.”

“He loved you,” I say. “Read the book. You’ll see.”

Louis stares.

“I know he did,” he answers. I smile for real; Louis was lucky. I nod, uncomfortable, then turn and walk down their porch steps. I don’t hear the door close.

Maybe I’m lucky too, I realize as I get back in the car. I’ve got Mom. I’ve got Grand—

Shoot.

I pull out my phone. I’m fifteen minutes late for lightbulb duty. I hit my recent calls and start the car while the phone rings.

“Tim? Are you alright?” Grandma’s voice is strained; she’s worried.

“I’m fine. It’s a long story.”

“You can tell me about it. Maybe…” she pauses. “Maybe over lunch?”

“Sounds great, Grandma,” I say. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Thanks if you read the whole thing. It’s dumb, but I could use some Internet-stranger validation on this one. If you feel like reading it in the original doc (I get like 1/3 of a cent from the site if you do,) it’s here: https://vocal.media/stories/for-louis

All the best. Over & Out.

#short story #emotional #writer #competition #cash #money #moleskine #little black book #cheesy #story

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justaghostingon · 5 years ago

Text

Cogs in a Steel Heart

Chapter 1: Introductions

Cyrus could think of a hundred other things a thug minion could do, each one a hundred times more fitting for someone of his skill set than babysitting. But Donella needs someone to take Hugo’s reports, and Cyrus needs the money, so here he is, in the cold and the wind, listening to Hugo gripe. And maybe he is kind of enjoying listening to Hugo complain about having to make friends of all things. Just a bit though.

read on ao3 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331849/chapters/58666810

or below the cut off.

Cyrus liked to consider himself a pretty normal guy. Sure, he beat people up for a living, but hey, it was honest work and that was precious hard to come by in this economy. He went home to his loving wife, Mona, and a tiny apartment worth far less than the angry landlord demanded just like everyone else. As far as thugs went, he was pretty decent, never roughing someone up more than was necessary to get the point across, always paying his guild fees on time, keeping trouble out of the neighborhood of work so his neighbors’ kids could play outside safely.

It was that kind of attitude that had gotten him assigned to Donella in the first place. She was notorious for having thugs quit on her like clockwork, and the guild was running out of thugs to send her. Eventually the exasperated guild master had called Cyrus into his office, placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Cyrus, you’re the most personable thug I got. If you can’t handle this crazy lady, we’re dropping her, solid gold pay or not.”

It hadn’t been easy, but here he was, six years later, holding the record for the longest lasting employee of Donella. And what did it get him? He pulled his arms around himself as the cold of the forest swept through him. Stuck following behind some stupid kids on a stupid quest, way past company time. He didn’t even get to interact with them! No intimidation or anything!

No, that privilege rested with the boy he was waiting on, whose report he would have to write up like some common secretary. The boy who had gotten him into this in the first place. Hugo. His lips twisted briefly into a frown before he sighed.

He missed Mona. She would know what to say to make this all fall into perspective. He hoped the money he had sent was enough to deal with the new landlord knocking on her door, and that she was enjoying the stew he so loved in his absence. It's kind of funny to think that just yesterday those had been his only worries.

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

Today was the day! He was going to do it! Going to ask for the raise he and Mona so desperately needed. It was long overdue, considering how he was already a senior employee.

There was only one other employee that could come close to rivaling him that title. His eyes slid to the side where Hugo slouched as he fiddled with some sort of strange contraption. Hugo had technically been here longer than he had, but he didn’t quite count. Or at least his skills made him too hard to replace, otherwise that attitude would have gotten him kicked out ages ago.

Case and point. Hugo flipped the contraption into the air as Donella entered the room. “One totem, freshly stolen from a group of amateurs, as requested.” He caught it and held it up with a flourish.

“Don’t play with that!” Donella snapped. “It's worth more than you could ever dream!”

Oh good. Cyrus thought. That means she could afford to raise his salary, and he could ask without any trace of guilt in his conscience. He’d put so much time and effort into working here, he deserved it. And with the new landlord who kept raising the rent he and Mona certainly needed it.

Hugo rolled his eyes and set it on her desk with a clunk. Her own eyes narrowed. but Hugo seemed not to care. “Seems kinda boring for a supposed treasure, but hey, if the rich will pay, why not collect?” He checked his nails.

“Foolish child!” Donella snapped. Cyrus held himself still under the anger in her voice. A good thug is never intimidated after all. Hugo tried the same, but a slight wince gave him away. “This is one key to the eternal library! With it we can find wisdom beyond our wildest dreams!”

“An eternal library?” Hugo’s ears pricked up. “Like that nonsense those amateurs were going on about?”

“What do you mean?” Donella’s anger rearranged itself on her face into a guarded curiosity.

“Oh you know, they were going on about completing some research, looking in a book, that kind of thing.” Hugo shrugged and leaned back against the wall. Cyrus watched Donella’s eyes sharpen as they followed his movements. He had something she wanted, and he knew it.

Cyrus held back a sigh. He knew this song and dance far too well. And if the last six years of working with these two had taught him anything, it was that he was never going to get out of this meeting now. Not when Hugo had a chance to show off.

And Mona was making his favorite stew for dinner tonight too.

“Book?” Donella said, and started asking questions. Cyrus tuned them out in favor of dreaming of Mona’s special stew, complete with a heavy broth and potatoes. How he hoped there would be potatoes in it this week, they were getting more and more expensive.

“...Cyrus will follow along behind, and you will report to him every week.” Cyrus heard Donella say.

“What?” Hugo protested. “I don’t need a babysitter.” He crossed his arms.

What? Cyrus wanted to chime in. He wasn’t sure what exactly they had been talking about but any kind of trip was way out of his pay grade. The cost of hotels alone, and what was he going to tell Mona? This is why no one wants to work for you, he grumbled in his head.

Donella continued on, oblivious to the anger of her employee. “This mission is far too important to risk you screwing it up Hugo. I need Cyrus there to retrieve you and the book when things go wrong.”

Cyrus grit his teeth as he caught Hugo’s face fall for a fraction of a second before the perfect mask was back in place. A twinge of something sharp and protective filled his gut at the sight. Great move boss, he wanted to say. The mission hasn’t even started yet and you're already turning your team against each other. Do you even know how to do your own job?

“Fine,” Hugo straightened. “I’ll get going, right now in fact.” He shot Cyrus a smirk and Cyrus felt the strange emotion evaporate, replaced by annoyance. “Coming Cyrus?”

“Only if I get a raise,” Cyrus grunted. Wow, that was a lot blunter than he meant it to be. Mona would throw a fit. But hey, it’s not like she had another minion on call right now, and if he was going to be dragged across the country he should at least get paid more for it.

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

He still can't believe Donella actually gave him that raise. She hadn’t even blinked before signing the check and sending it off to Mona. She must want this eternal library very, very badly. Which was great for her, but less great for Cyrus, who had to stand her in the cold and wind and wait for Hugo to somehow miraculously convince a group he’d robbed and stolen from to let him join.

In the privacy of his own mind, Cyrus half wanted to see him fail. See him finally learn the consequences to being a jerk to everyone around him. But that would not be good for the mission, which would make Donella very, very mad. Meaning that Cyrus would kiss his raise goodbye at best, and would be out of a job at worst. Which given how long it took to find a new thug job even with the guild, and the new landlord’s rates, was not good for him and Mona.

“And for Hugo,” a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mona’s whispered in his ear. “You at least get to go home when Donella gets mad. He has to live there.”

He shook his head. That was easy for Mona to say. She’d never met Hugo, never experienced all the horrible treatment he gave to everyone around him.

----------

On his first day Donella had introduced him to Hugo he hadn’t known what to think of this gangly child standing awkwardly beside her. He looked like an overgrown puppy, still not used to his bigger size as he stumbled along beside Donella. It had reminded him of the kids in his own neighborhood to be honest, who thought they were tough when they stole a treat from the local market.

Cyrus had almost relaxed. Almost. Then the boy flashed him a razor sharp smile as he felt a sharp pain in his side, and he realized the boy had stuck him with a tack without even getting close. He’d grit his teeth and ignored the pain, it was too little to stop a proper thug, through the rest of Donella’s introduction.

Then Donella had turned her back, claiming she had better things to do and not to disturb her or leave his post. As her heels echoed down the hall, the boy coiled like a snake as he turned his full attention to Cyrus.

“So you’re from the Thug guild right?” A smile played on his lips but did not reach his eyes.

Cyrus grunted in agreement, eyeing the boy warily as he began to circle around him.

“What’s that cute little motto they put on all their cards?” He ran a hand up by Cyrus’s shoulders. Which he probably meant to be intimidating, but Cyrus could tell by his touch that there wasn’t any real muscle to back it up. “All the muscle and little...?” he trailed off and looked at Cyrus expectantly.

The word he was looking for was “brain.” but Cyrus said nothing. No thug worth his salt would respond to such juvenile taunts.

“I can’t hear you,” Hugo leaned forward, a hand over his ear. Suddenly an uncontrollable urge to scratch his shoulders filled his skin. He reached out instinctively to them to scratch.

Hugo laughed. “Amazing isn’t it? Itching powder of my own design! And that’s not all it does!” As Cyrus’s fingers reached his shoulders, they held fast. He tugged, but they did not move.

“Sticking solution!” Hugo held out a bottle dangling in one gloved hand. “You see,-” he gave a mock bow, “-you may have a lot of muscle, but I have a lot of brains.” He raised his head, eyes narrow. “And brain beats brawn. Always.”

“Hugo!” Donella’s voice called out.

Hugo straightened, all traces of malice gone. “Well on that note, I have to be off! Lovely to work with you!” Hugo dashed off, leaving Cyrus standing, arms still stuck.

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

The memory faded from Cyrus’s eyes as his ears caught the sound of rapid footsteps. Then the footsteps stopped. For a few seconds all was quiet, until a great cloud of purple smoke came from between the trees. Hugo stepped grandly from it, one hand raised. “Infiltration accomplished in record time, as expected.” He gave a little bow, then stood up and dusted off his hands. “I’ll bet you regret coming along now, don’t you?”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “They let you in?” That quickly? And let him wander alone over to Cyrus without anyone following? Something wasn’t right here. He tensed, glancing around for any signs of a trap or an ambush. Leave it to Hugo to walk them both into trouble on the first day.

Hugo rolled his eyes at his antics. “Contrary to what you may believe, I do know how to make people like me. I am a professional thief after all.” He placed a hand on his puffed up chest.

You are not nearly as good as you think you are, Cyrus thought. Half the time the only reason that works is because the nobility are so used to being flattered they don’t notice your sarcasm. Which is not a good sign for your new team. “Tell me everything,” he said.

Hugo deflated. “Everything?” he whined. Cyrus raised his other eyebrow. “Fine!” Hugo sighed dramatically as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll start from the beginning.”

He explained how he’d caught them on the road. How he’d pointed out how useless they were and offered them both the totem and his help guiding them through. How they had welcomed him into the party.

“Just like that?” Cyrus frowned. There was no way it was that simple. Even just getting Mona to go on a date with him had taken weeks of work, and he’d had mad good looks and a personality that wasn’t made of fish oil on his side.

“Well,” Hugo laced his fingers. “The firecracker kid got a little mad, saying they weren’t idiots, and how people like me never change, blah blah.” That’s what you call a little? Cyrus’s frown deepened.

“But Goggles stuck out his hand and welcomed me on to the team!” Hugo added hastily. “And he’s the leader, so the kid didn’t press the issue.”

“He heard all of that, and he deliberately chose to let you join?” Cyrus’s eyebrows arched together in disbelief. After what had to be the worst recommendation letter in all of history, a.k.a. advice from anyone who’d talked to Hugo for five minutes?

“What can I say?” Hugo laughed as he struck a pose. “I guess I’m just irresistible.”

Right, and pigs flew. Hugo was charming, sure, but in a slippery way that only really fooled people once. Cyrus was half convinced that he’d have to skip town once he ran out of nobles to schmooze and trick. To let him join, after he’d stolen from them, when his companion was so against him...

There were only three reasons he could think for such strange behavior. The first, that Hugo was right and this ‘Goggles’ had just taken a liking to him. Teenagers could be stupid when it came to hormones. But these kids were smart enough to complete a trial Hugo hadn’t been able to do, and so were probably smart enough to know better.

The second, and far more likely version, was that ‘Goggles’ was planning to double cross Hugo before Hugo got the chance to double cross him. In which case, Cyrus had better stick close by and get Hugo out before he paid for his arrogance.

But there was a third option, rarer it's true, that could be at play. One Mona had understood so well. What had she said all those years ago?

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

After their first meeting, Hugo had continued to be a constant source of aggravation for Cyrus. He seemed to lurk around every corner, with some taunting words and some new prank. He’s lost track of how many stink bombs the boy had thrown at his head, or times he’d frozen him to the ground. He’d even stopped sitting down at lunch, as every seat he tried had either a tack or customized fart cushion, or worse.

Today the brat had somehow turned all his shoes to jelly, and he’d had to stumble home in weird, slippery shoes like some kind of drunk monkey. Mona had caught him in her arms as he’d fallen through the door, and listened as he cried and complained about all the problems Hugo was causing, and how he didn’t know what he’d done to make him hate him so much and wanted to quit like everyone else.

Mona had held him and listened. For a while they just sat there, until Mona tentatively said, “Maybe it’s not about you.”

He raised his head from her chest and looked up at her round face. “What?”

She bit her lip, the way she did when she was struggling to find the words to explain. “Maybe he’s mean to you, not because of anything you’ve done, but because of something he’s gone through. It could be a lot of reasons, but I’ll bet he’s not used to thinking of adult men as friendly, and just jumped to conclusions about you without getting to know you as a person.”

“So I should just put up with this because he’s not really angry at me?” Cyrus cried, searching her face with pleading eyes.

“Of course not,” she shook her head. “You don’t have to put up with anything. In fact you probably should quit tomorrow. We’ll figure out a way to make ends meet. I’m just saying that he doesn’t hate you, because he’s never met the real you.”

Cyrus had buried his head back in her chest, a pout on his lips. But those words stuck with him, and he decided to hang on for one more day.

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

“Maybe it’s not about you,” Cyrus murmured.

“What?” Hugo turned to look at him, a quizzical look in his eyes.

“This ‘Goggles,” Cyrus elaborated. How would Mona put it? “He’s letting you in because of something that’s happened in his past, not because of anything you did to win him over.”

“You mean he’s naive?” Hugo rolled his eyes and turned half away.

“That’s one option,” Cyrus crossed his arms.

“Yes, well.” Hugo looked down at his feet. “It’s to our advantage isn’t it? Whatever his reasoning is, if it gets me in, I’m in.” He shot Cyrus a tight smile.

Cyrus nodded his head. Because it was true. They weren’t here to make friends or psychoanalyze strangers. They were here on a mission for the crazy lady herself, and that wasn’t something either of them could take lightly.

Especially not Hugo.

#varian and the seven kingdoms #seven kingdoms au #hugo the human #hugo #cyrus #varian #yong #cogs in a steel heart

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something-tofightfor · 5 years ago

Text

Just a Place - Part 9

Pairing: Ryan Brenner x Reader

Word Count: 10,155 (it got long but there was nowhere else for me to cut it)

Rating: M (language, implied zest)

Summary: As you and Ryan head back to Utah - and back to see Ginny and Henry, parts of his past begin to resurface... but can you and Ryan get past them while at ground zero?

Author’s Note: I need to stop neglecting Ryan Brenner. But this and the next chapter are difficult for reasons that I am SURE you will understand. Thanks to you guys for your patience!

Your POV

By the time you were passing through Layton, Ryan had fallen silent, and so had you. He’d taken over driving in Price when you’d stopped for gas, and though the two of you had continued to talk, you could tell that Ryan’s attention wasn’t fully on you. This isn’t going to be an easy trip. You knew that it was partially because of Jackie, but with the way he was acting, you were almost positive that Ryan was more worried about seeing Virginia again after so long, having to re-live the loss of his best friend. “Ry?” You looked over at him, reaching over with your left hand to turn the radio down. “You don’t have to call her today, we can -”

“No.” He shook his head, eyes on the road. “No, I told Ginny we’d be getting in today, an’ I can’t… we should…” You nodded, but didn’t say anything else. “What time can we check in?” You pulled your phone out, opening the app and tapping through to your reservation. You’d looked into hotels, but had instead chosen an Airbnb, since they were about the same price, and there had been more to pick from.

“Any time, Ryan.” You scrolled through the pictures of the place you’d rented - an entire house with a hot tub out back, only a few minutes from Ginny’s apartment complex - and sighed. “We just have to check in with the keypad, but the host said as long as it was after noon, we were -”

“Good.” Ryan nodded at you, taking his eyes off of the road for long enough to look down at the clock. “You promised me m-”

“I know what I promised you, Ryan Brenner.” You reached over again, this time placing your hand on his knee. “And trust me, I plan on making good on that promise.” You watched his lips twitch into a smile. “But I think we should stop and get some stuff for the house first, in case we’re with Ginny too late.” He sighed, not answering right away. “Ryan, I don’t know how late -”

“You’re right.” He glanced over and you saw the look in his eyes, the intensity catching you by surprise. “I’m just lookin’ forward to getting out of this car.” You laughed, glad to hear that he was joking with you, even though you could still tell that he was off, and decided to ignore it, letting Ryan deal with being back in the city in his own way. You reached forward, tapping in the address of a grocery store into the GPS and settling back into your seat as it rerouted you.

“It’s nice here, Ry.” You turned your head to look out the window, eyes moving over the landscape. He exited the highway, turning onto W 2100, and you grinned. “I definitely get the appeal of living in the mountains, it’s a lot different from the coast.”

“It is.” He nodded, slowing down with traffic, his hands tight on the steering wheel. “Wakin’ up to the mountains is real nice, even in the summer. We’ll have to… we’ll have to try it out sometime.” You parked soon after that, and hurried into the store, buying enough food and drinks to last you a few days - a couple six packs of beer included. You and Ryan hadn’t had true time off since you’d left Texas months prior, and even though you knew that being in Ogden wouldn’t be easy for him, you still wanted to take the time to relax. After all, we’ll be here for a week.

Satisfied with your purchases, you got back into the car, you climbing into the driver’s seat, and within fifteen minutes, you’d parked in the driveway of your rented home. You put the groceries away while Ryan carried in your stuff, dragging both suitcases up the stairs and into the master bedroom while he left the guitars in the living room. By the time you were done, he still hadn’t come back downstairs and so you went looking for him, fingers trailing over the wall as you walked. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread and his hands clasped between them, eyes trained on the floor. Pausing in the doorway, you watched him for a few seconds without speaking. “It’s weird bein’ back here, and we haven’t even been to…” Ryan shook his head. “Never been to this part of Ogden before, this far east?” He looked up at you, worry in his eyes. “Feels like comin’ back somewhere after I ran from… from a mistake.”

Stepping fully into the room, you made your way to the bed, sitting next to him. “What mistake would that be?” He didn’t answer right away and you could tell that he was thinking about it. Whatever he says, you have to …

“Not tryin’ harder.” His voice was quiet, and Ryan reached out to take your hand, thumb moving over the back of it before he linked his fingers with yours. “Not with…” You looked over at him, watching his head shake back and forth, hair hanging over his eyes. “With Ginny. With Cowboy. I knew where they were long before I made my way up here the first time, an’ when I was here, it was just about… gettin’ to Portland. I shoulda come sooner. I could have…” Ryan squeezed your hand. “I was supposed to be here a couple months before I ended up… If I would… he…”

“Ryan, it’s not your fault he went out again.” You inched closer to him, reaching over your body with your free hand to squeeze his knee. “They were traveling up until Virginia was a couple months pregnant, right?” He nodded. “I’m not surprised, then, that he felt like he needed to go. And he would have done the same even if you’d been here, Ry. You can’t blame yourself for what happened to him, because he was an adult and he made his choices. What would you have tried harder to do?”

“Get here. Stay here. Be here for them when they -”

“Ryan.” At the tone of your voice, he looked up, locking eyes with you. “You did what you could. No one expects anything more than that.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off again. “You were here when Ginny found out. She wasn’t alone. You were here for the funeral. You were here and you offered yourself to her if she needed you. She turned you down, and I don’t blame her, but you shouldn’t blame yourself, either. Getting here a week earlier wouldn’t have changed anything. Getting here a month earlier wouldn’t have changed anything, except you getting to see Cowboy before he left. He still would have gone, Ryan, and …” You took a breath. “You said they weren’t able to determine…” He winced and you stopped. “No one knows exactly what happened, so what if… what if you’d been with him, Ryan?” He lowered his head further. “She could have lost you both. But she didn’t. You’re here now when it matters the most, because Henry’s going to get to grow up with you, and even if you’re not living here, or you don’t see him much? Virginia wants you in his life - and hers.” There’s nothing else I can say. Nothing… he…

“Still feels like a mistake.” Ryan’s voice was tinged with regret, and he looked over at you again, honesty written on his face. “Like I… gave up on Ginny and Henry to … to make myself happy. I was so focused on Jackie and Lia and myself that I didn’t…” Ryan shook his head. “I hightailed it outta here right after the funeral and -”

“You were grieving, Ryan. Cowboy was your best friend and you went from thinking he was gonna come home to finding out he was gone in a few days. This isn’t your home, and no one expected you to stay.”

“Someone did.” He looked at you again, lips pressed together. “Someone tried to -”

“Ryan, Jackie wanted you to stay here because she was staying here. She didn’t care what that meant for you because she was so focused on her own life that she…” You trailed off, realizing that it was the first time you’d spoken the woman’s name out loud to Ryan in months. “You came back here because you thought it…” Is he having second thoughts? Does he want… “You wanted to see how it felt, Ryan. How it felt to be with her, how it felt to try something more permanent, how it felt to have a life with her, like Virginia and Cowboy did together.”

“No.” It was a single word, but you heard the effort it took for him to say it. “Ginny and Cowboy, they… they loved each other from the beginning. Always. Completely. I met ‘em when they were real young, but … I never thought that Jackie and I would have that, because she and I we… we were too different.” Then why’d you stay with her? Why’d you… “I never thought I’d fall in love, but I thought that Jackie was… would be… enough.” Your heart broke for Ryan; not because of what he was saying, but because you could hear in his tone that he’d believed it. “But it wasn’t, and when I figured that out, I felt like I’d done somethin’ wrong with that, too because she wasn’t enough, and I made her feel like maybe she could be.”

“Ryan, you…” You pulled your hand away from his leg, letting it fall back into your own lap. “I figured we’d have to talk about this while we were here, but I didn’t think that…” You looked down, eyes focused on the carpet beneath your feet. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t happy, and so you left. It would have been wrong to pretend - with any of them. Just like it’d be wrong if you were pretending with me.” You said it. “I don’t want to find out years down the road that you were just trying to make up for something by being with me, that you resent -”

“Stop.” He turned his body to face yours, reaching over to put a hand on your shoulder. “You know that’s not what this is, what… what it’s been.” Looking up slowly, you met his eyes as he said your name. “You heard those recordings, know how I feel about you.” Yeah, but… “What happened between Jackie and me and Ginny and Cowboy and me is somethin’ that I’m gonna have to deal with, and bein’ here - really bein’ here isn’t going to be easy, but it’s overdue.” Ryan paused, wetting his lips. “I feel guilty. I feel … upset. But you’re right. It doesn’t mean that doin’ things differently would have changed anything, and that’s what I have to keep…” He shook his head. “I never thought I’d have … that I’d get to meet someone that…” He brought the hand up from your shoulder to your chin, curling his fingers beneath it and rubbing his thumb slowly over your lips. “But I did.” You did.

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes, and though you had to look away from him, averting your gaze from his eyes, your heart rate didn’t slow. It seemed like every few months, you and Ryan had one of these conversations, and while you didn’t mind them, because it reaffirmed the feelings that both of you had for each other, you had to wonder if, at some point, they’d get to be too much - too often. This is normal, right? This is… “Ryan?” You looked back at him, nervously biting your lip. “Are you going to need to see…”

“No.” He shook his head, using the hand that had been on your face to push his hair back. “No, I said everything that I had to say when we talked on the phone.” You felt a surge of relief course through your body, because you could hear in his voice that he meant it. Alright. Good. I guess… “An’ I think that once I see Ginny, I won’t even feel… it’s just….” He shrugged. “So much time to think, it’s all I -”

“Alright, Ry.” You leaned in, taking a breath before you kissed his cheek, nodding your head. “I just wanted to make sure.” He turned his head, lips meeting yours, and even though it was a brief kiss, it reassured you.

“I ruined it, didn’t I?” He pulled his hand from yours and moved it to your side, the other one returning to your cheek. “Had every intention of gettin’ you here and makin’ sure that you -” You felt his lip curl, heard the intent behind his words. You didn’t ruin anything, Ryan. “Did you see our shower?” You shook your head, feeling Ryan’s grip on you tighten as you moved your hand back to his knee. “I did. I wanna see you in that shower.” Your fingers tightened on his leg, but you didn’t otherwise respond. “Maybe both of them, actually.” You sighed, feeling yourself smile as you raised your other hand to his hair, tugging on it, his lips moving lower on your face. “And the tub.” He kissed you again, teeth closing around your lip for a brief second. “And on the couch.”

“Ryan?” He hummed against your throat, fingers tangling in your hair. “Let’s start with the bed.” He nodded and you leaned back, feeling him push you down against the mattress.

“I can do that.”

---

Later that afternoon - after you and Ryan had cleaned yourselves up and eaten a small lunch, you lounged on the couch with your head in his lap while he called Ginny. “Hey, we’re here.” He was quiet for a few seconds, listening, and you smiled up at him. He sounded more relaxed, and while you knew that the conversation you’d had earlier had only been tabled and not forgotten, you knew that he’d been right - when he saw Ginny, saw that she didn’t blame him for his actions years earlier, he’d be much more comfortable in the city. Even though she’s here somewhere. Somewhere close. It had taken everything in you not to try and look up Jackie’s address with her new husband, figuring out where they lived so that you could book a place to stay as far from them as possible - but you’d refrained, telling yourself that if you were meant to run into her - or into them - while you were in the city, it’s what would happen. “Yeah, we’re actually stayin’ pretty close to you, I think. She looked up your address and -” Ryan laughed, looking down. “Lemme ask.” He pulled the phone away from his mouth. “Ginny wants to know if you want to have dinner tonight.”

‘Yes.” You nodded. “They want to come here, or go out, or…” Ryan moved the hand that had been resting against your chest, covering your mouth with it. Hey.

“You hear her, Gin?” He laughed. “Yeah. I’ll let her know.” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “There’s a place up the road that Henry likes, figures it’ll be better to…” You nodded immediately, understanding and Ryan moved his hand back to its previous location, fingers pressing down on the skin above the edge of your shirt. Neutral location. She doesn’t want to have us over until… “Six? Is it gonna be bu- alright. See you then, Ginny.” He hung up, glancing at the screen of his phone before he set it on the cushions next to you. “We got a couple hours, what do you want to do?” You pressed your lips together, thinking.

“We can just stay here, Ryan.” He frowned, but you continued. “It’s too late to go look at anything, and if we go downtown and then have to leave… Henry’s little, so we can always go out after…” You went to sit up, but Ryan stopped you, moving his hand a little lower, the tips of his fingers sliding under your collar and curling over your shoulder.

“You wanna go out?” You nodded, staring up at him.

“Yeah, we can leave the car here, take an Uber or something, have a few drinks.” You swallowed. “This doesn’t have to be a…”

“Alright.” He grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

---

You drove from the house to the restaurant, which was on the same street that you were staying on and parked the car, backing into a spot that gave you a good view of the front doors. Ryan had wanted to be there a few minutes early, and you knew that it was to calm his nerves, to be sure that you got there before Ginny and Henry. “Food sounds good here, Ryan.” You looked over at him, watching as his eyes focused on the doors. “Lots of different burgers and-”

“They’re here.” You followed his gaze, watching as an old pickup truck pulled past you, and then Ryan was reaching for you, pulling you close to him and kissing you hard. “It’s just Ginny, why am I so -”

“Because you love her, Ryan.” You said the words and watched as he took them in, nose wrinkling and teeth digging into his lower lip. “You love her and you haven’t seen her in years, and -”

“This is why I need you.” He sighed, kissing you again, but this time it was slow, a gentle press of his lips against yours. “You’re always right, an’ I -”

“Not always.” You sighed, looking past Ryan and watching as a dark haired woman led a small boy to the doors, his hand held tightly in hers. “Now let’s go see your friends, Ry.” He nodded, pulling away from you after giving your knee one more firm squeeze and then he got out of the car. Alright. Let’s go. You got out, too, locking it and dropping your keys into your purse as you moved to the front of the restaurant, Ryan’s hand waiting for yours to slip into it. The woman waited near the front doors, a small frown on her lips, but as soon as her eyes landed on Ryan, she smiled. The expression took years off of her face, and as you got closer, Ryan pulled his hand from yours, steps quickening as he reached the woman. He hugged her tightly, Virginia never letting go of Henry’s hand, though the boy was more interested in the cars passing by on the street than he was with what his mother was doing.

“Ryan!” You heard her voice in person for the first time, the excited tone of it muffled by his shoulder, and you took a step back as he wrapped both arms around her more tightly, a laugh escaping his lips. “You look great, like you haven’t -”

“Ginny, you look…” He stepped back, shaking his head and smiling down at the small woman. “It’s good to see you, really good, and Henry, he…” You looked down when Ryan did, seeing that the boy was now looking up at you and Ryan, scowling. “He still looks just like his-”

“Just like his daddy, yeah.” Ginny squeezed Ryan’s arm again before pulling gently on Henry’s hand, moving him closer to her. “That’s what everyone says.” Henry stood next to Virginia, and everyone went silent for a few seconds until Ginny addressed you, interest in her tone. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” You widened your eyes in surprise and she held her hand out to you. “I’m glad this one’s got someone to keep him in line.” You laughed and Ryan scoffed, Ginny’s hand falling from yours and back to her side. “We should go in, though, Henry’s hungry, and he’s gotta go to bed in a couple hours.” Nodding, you followed the woman and her son into the restaurant, Ryan’s hand resting against your back the entire time you waited in line to order. As you waited, Virginia reached down to pick Henry up, pointing out things on the menu to him.

“Do you want to go get a table, Ry?” You looked up at him, but Ryan shook his head.

“No, but you can.” He raised an eyebrow. “Tell me what you want and I’ll order.” You looked back at the menu and told him what you wanted, reaching for your purse but Ryan shook his head. “No, I got this.” Understanding immediately, you nodded, stepping away from Ryan and making your way to a booth, figuring it would be easier and more comfortable for Henry. Reminds me of a Shake Shack. You looked around the restaurant, eyes taking in the decor and the crowd. No, not quite, but… You’d been a lot of places in your travels, seen a lot of small towns that were trying to grow, trying to modernize, and Ogden was no different. Give it a chance. Smiling brightly as Ryan and Ginny made their way to the table, a drink holder in his hands, you scooted over, increasing the space next to you.

“Couple minutes, and the food should be out.” Ginny grinned at you, waving her hand. “This place is quick, and it’s good, and it’s…” Ginny smiled down at her son. “Cheap.” There was a pause and you leaned in, shrugging your shoulders.

“A good burger’s a good burger.” You smiled at her. “And if it’s cheap? That’s even better.” You felt Ryan’s hand on your knee, not squeezing but just resting there. “I -”

“She does what we did, Gin.” Ryan’s tone was light, but you could still hear the apprehension in it. “Likes to get to know the places an’ the people and -”

“Let her talk, Ryan.” Ginny sat up, eyes moving between the two of you. “I gotta decide.” Decide what? He asked your question out loud, and Ginny rolled her eyes. “Decide if I like her or not.” You watched her press her lips together, taking a breath. “I’m kidding, Ryan.” She shook her head. “I already like her, she’s keepin’ you safe.” You felt your heart thud at that - the first mention of the loss that they’d both experienced, and you tried not to flinch, but at the tightening of Ryan’s fingers through your jeans, you knew that you’d failed. I’m sorry, Ry, I couldn’t help it. Virginia said your name again, opening her mouth to say more when a young girl approached your table, two full trays of food in her hands.

Once things had been passed out - burgers for all three adults and a turkey sandwich for Henry, along with buckets of fries and onion rings to share between you - you started talking again, conversation flowing easily between you and Ginny, Ryan adding things in every now and then. You watched as he ate, his attention shifting between Ginny and Henry, focusing on the boy more and more as time passed, but Ryan never missed a beat. You liked Ginny, could tell that she was a devoted mother, trying to get Henry to say a few things too, including him in the conversation, and you knew instinctively that when she’d found out she was pregnant, her entire life had shifted. She was done right away, being a mom was… You glanced over at Ryan, watching as he laughed, telling Ginny about something that had happened in St. Louis, and wondered what he would have done if he’d ever gotten someone pregnant, if he’d …Stop. Shaking your head, you realized that Ryan was saying your name, his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Thinkin’ about somethin’?” You nodded, meeting Ryan’s eyes. “It’s been a long day, and you did a lot of drivin’.”

“Yeah, but…” You shook your head. “That’s not -”

“It’s fine.” Ginny leaned over the table, reaching out with one hand to squeeze yours while looking at Henry, who was coloring on one of the place mats with a green crayon. “We’ve gotta get going anyway, it’s almost time for bed, and he needs a bath.” She rolled her eyes. “I have to drop him off at my mom’s before I go to work, and -”

“They still in the same house, Ginny?” Ryan spoke up and she nodded. “What about -” She nodded, cutting him off.

“Everyone else is still exactly where they were the last time you were here, Ryan.” You took a deep breath. Does she mean? “Not much has changed, except we’ve all gotten a little older.” Ginny laughed. “I work all day tomorrow, and then have an early shift the day after, so I don't know if we can…” She looked between the two of you. “I’m off the day after that, though, we can do somethin’ then, if you want.” Ryan nodded. “I just…” Ginny leaned in, voice going low. “I wanted him to really meet you, Ryan, before … before I invite you over and let you spend time with him, I just …”

“I get it.” He nodded. “We’re here until next Thursday, so we have plenty of time, and…” Ryan looked over at Henry again before lowering his head. “He looks so much like ‘im, Ginny.” You squeezed Ryan’s hand, feeling the spread of his fingers beneath yours, giving you a chance to hold them more tightly. “It’ll be nice to sit down and just…”

“Yeah, it will.” You knew that the conversation would be hard, but could also tell that Ryan was feeling more comfortable with the whole thing. See? Seeing them was what you needed, Ryan, it was … all you needed. “Thank you for dinner, Ryan. You didn’t have to -”

“I did, though.” Ryan grinned, sitting back up and leaning against the back of the booth. “You guys took carea me all those years, least I can do is buy you a burger.” You felt the mood shift again, Ginny laughing, and a few minutes later as the four of you exited the restaurant, you paused in the parking lot, Henry’s head sleepily leaning against his mother’s shoulder. “Give me a call, Ginny. Let me know when you want to see me again, and I’ll stop by.” She nodded, and Ryan quickly walked over to the truck, pulling the back door open and stepping away to let Ginny put Henry into his car seat, buckling him in before she closed the door.

“It was nice to meet you, Ginny.” You called out the goodbye, still standing by the driver’s side door of your car. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” She raised a hand to you, and then turned back to Ryan, stepping closer. Give them a minute. You unlocked your car, sliding into the seat and started it, wanting it to be warm when Ryan got in. That was… You shook your head, flipping through the radio and settling on an old rock station, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes. She’s nice. You hadn’t even realized that you’d fallen asleep until you felt Ryan’s fingers moving over your cheek a while later. “Oh, shit, Ry, I didn’t -”

“You want me to drive?” He leaned in, rubbing his nose against your cheek, and you yawned, shaking your head back and forth. “You were sleepin’, I -”

“It’s just a couple blocks, Ryan, I can…” You sat straight up, blinking. “How long were you out there?” He laughed, leaning back against his seat.

“Only about ten minutes. You must be exhausted.” I guess I am. Rubbing your eyes, you turned your head to look at him, laughing quietly.

“It’s not even 9, Ryan, I…” I’m getting old. “Let’s go back, we can figure out where…”

“We’re not goin’ out tonight.” He spoke quietly and your eyes moved over to him as you pulled out of the parking spot, turning out of the lot and back onto Monroe. Why? “We’ve got all week, and there’s nothin’ wrong with going back to the house and getting to bed early.”

“Whatever you say, Brenner.” It only took a few minutes and then your car was parked safely in the garage of your rental - and you were wrapped in Ryan’s arms in the master bedroom. “We’ll wake up early tomorrow, Ryan, and…” But you were already nodding off again, Ryan’s bearded chin pressed against your forehead. You woke up a few hours later, and though the bed next to you was empty, you could hear the sounds of Ryan playing guitar from downstairs. Should I go down? Rolling onto your back, you stared up at the ceiling, straining your ears to hear what he was playing. I can’t tell, I… You rubbed your eyes and sat up, making your decision.

The stairs didn’t squeak, but you still paused at the bottom of them, listening. He was playing something original - or, if it wasn’t, you didn’t recognize the song - picking through the notes and humming under his breath. He’s inspired here, we haven’t even been… “You gonna come over here, or just stand there and snoop?” Shit. You moved across the floor and down the short hallway, curling up in the center of the couch. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I just … rolled over and you weren’t there, and I heard you, so…”

“Felt like I had to play.” He glanced over at you, fingers still picking out notes. “Seein’ Ginny, talking about Cowboy, even a little, it…” I get it. “Bein’ back here, it’s…” I don’t know if I want to hear this.

“Hey.” You pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, covering yourself. “Keep playing, Ryan.” The look on his face grateful, Ryan smiled and turned his attention back to the instrument in his hands - your father’s guitar. He’s in Utah and he’s not playing his… Eyes on Ryan, you watched him play for a while, feeling yourself growing tired again as his words and the strumming - now much quieter - lulled you back to sleep.

---

Ryan’s POV

He woke before you the following morning, stretching in the large bed and turning his head to face you as the pale sunlight filtered in. We’re in Utah. He hadn’t been back for nearly three years, but knowing that the mountains were just outside the windows, that the sleepy little town of Ogden was waiting for him to explore it, Ryan felt excitement. Not because she’s here, but because you are, he thought as he stared at you, your hair spread out over the pillow. Gonna show you the best parts of this place. He finally rolled away from you, reaching for his phone, and was surprised to see that it was barely eight, meaning he’d only gotten five and a half hours of sleep. Get up, go shower. He took a breath and rolled again toward the edge of the bed, but before he could swing his legs over the side, he felt your hand pressed against his spine. “Where you goin’, Ry?”

You mumbled the words and he froze, pausing long enough for you to remove your hand before he turned to face you again. “Gonna get up, it’s -” Your eyes were still closed, but he watched as you cracked one open, face still pressed against the pillow. “Why?”

“What time is it?” You cleared your throat as he told you, groaning. “We’re on vacation. Stay in bed.” Yawning, you hummed as you let your breath out. “I’m not getting up yet.” Of course you aren’t. He watched you for a few seconds before making his decision, moving across the mattress and pulling you into his arms and against his chest. How can I say no? Ryan felt your lips press against his skin as you rested your hand against his ribs, and he relaxed back into the sheets, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. She’s right, it’s a vacation. Your breath evened out as you drifted back off, and Ryan wasn’t far behind you, his arms tightening around your body.

---

Both of you finally woke up around ten and after showering - separately - and eating a late breakfast, you decided that you’d spend the day exploring the city. He’d been running through a list of places that he enjoyed, wanting to be sure that you saw them, but when Ryan tried to list things out for you, you tossed your head back, laughing. What? “Ryan, what happened to spontaneity?” You were sitting on the bench at the dining room table, one foot raised to the surface of the wood, both arms wrapped around your bent knee. “I know you have a lot you want me to see, but…” Cocking your head to the side, you smiled at him. “Won’t it be better if we just kind of… get there?” At his silence, you widened your eyes, sitting up straight. “I mean, we can…”

“No, you’re right.” Ryan moved across the room, sitting down on the bench with you. “I just want to be sure you see…” What do I want her to see? “Want you to understand why being here was important to me, even if… I couldn’t stay here.” He watched as you frowned at him, thinking through all of the possible places for you to go. “Why don’t we start with the Station?” Ryan reached up, running his fingers through his hair. “There’s a couple museums in there, some galleries… and then when we’re done, we can just walk down 25th… that’s the main street here.” You watched Ryan with curiosity, and he continued. “Restaurants and more stores… you can see the mountains… it’s…”

“Sounds good, Ryan.” You stood, turning to look down at him. “We should go, that way we’ll be downtown when the sun sets.” He stood too, reaching out and closing his fingers around your wrist as you began to walk toward the door. “W-”

“C’mere.” Ryan tugged on you, waiting until you were facing him to speak again. “I’m glad you’re here with me.” You licked your lips, staying quiet. “You gotta understand that I…”

“I get it.” Your voice was quiet, but Ryan heard a hint of sadness in it. “This isn’t easy for you. This is the last place you thought about… staying.” Is that it? “But I want to see it, see how you see it, because…” You frowned, but before Ryan could speak, you continued. “It’s personal to you, the same way it was when I showed you Philadelphia, and the same way it would be if we ever go back to -”

“No.” He shook his head, feeling his body tense. “It’s completely different from Vegas.” His free hand found its way to your hip, his head still moving from side to side. “That was the beginning of something, this place, Ogden… it’s nothing like that. Not even close.” He paused, closing his eyes and for a moment picturing Jackie’s face, the way she’d looked at him as she watched him play with Georgie the first time. No. “I learned somethin’ here, but it wasn’t…” Ryan leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and feeling your immediate response. “Wasn’t as important.” You laughed quietly but nodded, whispering his name before he kissed you again, this time letting his lips linger, fingers tightening around your wrist. “Let’s go see some trains, yeah?”

---

A few hours later, you and Ryan were in the second gallery, holding his hand as your arms hung between your bodies. You’d made your way through the indoor portions of the museum, excitedly reading the information and listening as Ryan showed you around, and he was happy to see that you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Why wouldn’t she? This is what she does. Being back in the building brought back a lot of memories; things he hadn’t thought about for years. He’d remembered watching Lia and Jackie sing together, the way that he’d seen for the first time what the woman was capable of when she stopped thinking and let herself act on instinct, the way seeing that had led to the first time he’d seen her at her realest - terrified at the thought of losing her daughter on the sidewalk in front of the building, Ryan doing what he could to reassure her that Lia wasn’t going anywhere. I can’t be thinking of this, it isn’t fair it… You were right there next to him, fingers linked together as you browsed, wandering through the galleries and the other portions of the interior of the large space, and he was having a difficult time keeping himself in the present. But I can’t let it… He thought back to the conversations he and Jackie had after that night, the way things had shifted, becoming somehow more and less comfortable between them in the same moments, the way that his mind had screamed “go” as soon as he’d found out about Cowboy, even though everything he knew should have convinced him otherwise. As the two of you made it through the second gallery, you murmuring about the art and leaning in to inspect the pieces more closely, Ryan closed his eyes, swallowing as he remembered the feeling in his chest as he’d hurried back to Utah, back to her, back to... Stop. None of that matters, not anymore. “Ryan?”

He opened both eyes and turned to look down at you, noticing that you were watching him intently. “Yeah?” He tightened his hold on your hand, not knowing what else to say, and in a split second, he saw the look in your eyes change. Shit. “You -”

“You’re thinking about…” You pulled your hand back and Ryan let you do it, knowing better than to hold on more tightly. “I…” He watched you swallow, struggling for words. “How long… all day?” He hesitated for only a second and then nodded, feeling shame course through his body. Why am I doing this to myself? To her? “Ryan, I…” You took a step back, and he saw you curl your fingers into your palm, teeth digging into your lower lip. “I shouldn’t have come here with you, not to Utah, not to -” He stepped closer again, eyes going wide and his hand shot out, fingers closing around your knuckles.

“No, don’t say that.” He heard something in his voice that he was unfamiliar with, but Ryan felt his heart pounding in his chest. “Look.” You froze as he touched you, but didn’t pull away. “I never said that bein’ here wasn’t going to be strange for me. I haven’t been in Ogden in years, and the last time I was here, it was…” Ryan wet his lips. “I had a lot goin’ through my head, and I’m thinkin’ that I didn’t… I didn’t deal with all that as well as I thought I did.” He let out a deep sigh, stepping closer to you and reached up with his free hand, his fingers tracing over your temple and down your cheek. “I’m not thinkin’ about it, about her because that’s what I want, I’m… thinkin’ about everything because I can’t help it.” Please understand. “I’m here with you because I wanna be. There’s no one else I want to be walking through here with, or seein’ the ponies on 25th with later or headin’ back to the house with tonight.” You were watching him with a careful expression in your eyes, but he continued anyway, hand dropping to your shoulder. “I want you here with me. In Utah, in here, everywhere.”

“Did you come here with her?” He heard the sadness in your voice, though you tried to disguise it. “Walk through -”

“No.” He shook his head. “Well, we came here together a couplea times, but it was never to see the exhibits, it was for events.” You watched him, waiting. “I’m not doin’ the same things with you that I did with her. I would never. You deserve more than that, but this is a small town, and so a lot of places are…” Ruined? Full of memories? “Reminders of the time I spent here.” Ryan watched you close your eyes before looking down, hair falling over your face as you moved. “Look, I’d never lie to you about this. You asked, and I’m tellin’ you the truth, because -”

“I know, Ry.” You raised your head and he saw that your eyes were shining, lips firmly set. “But it doesn’t -” He surprised both of you by pulling you closer, wrapping both arms around you and tilting his head down to kiss the top of your head. I hope she can feel how fast my heart is beating, how this is botherin’ me. It took a second, but you wound an arm around him, fingers hard against the skin of his back.

“I’m in love with you, you know that.” His words quiet, Ryan rocked slowly from side to side before straightening up, saying your name. “I can’t help -”

“Love you too, Ryan.” You reached up with one hand, swiping beneath your eyes. “It’s just hard because I know that you… cared, and it’s like I shouldn’t be here because it’s-” Ryan cut you off with a firm shake of his head. “What?”

“She lives here, she doesn’t own this place. You have as much a right to be here as she does, and… and I’m sorry that I ruined the day, because I was lookin’ forward to -”

“Didn’t ruin anything, Ryan.” You sniffed, drawing your lower lip into your mouth. “I’m just being stupid, I -” Stupid? No way. “I know that you… fuck.” He watched as a tear slipped from one eye, dripping slowly down your cheek. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you, but didn’t, instead drawing you closer again and just holding you. Nothing I say is going to help. “Hey.” You pulled away from him, gesturing toward the exit. “I think I’m done in here, can we…” He was moving before you’d finished, leading you toward the door, and within 30 seconds, the two of you were outside, the chilly air feeling slightly warmer in the bright sunlight.

“Hey, stop.” Ryan planted his feet, crossing his arms over his chest and saying your name again. “You’re gonna tell me not to apologize, so I won’t.” He watched as you raised an eyebrow. “But I want you to know that I wasn’t… it wasn’t this whole time, I… I was…” He looked past you, wrinkling his nose. “I got caught up in…” It’s been years and Jackie’s still ruinin’ everything. “It won’t happen again. Not in Ogden, not -”

“You can’t promise me that.” You shrugged, fingers moving through your hair. “I know you’ll try, but we can’t help what we think about or when.” You glanced upward and then back at him. “I don’t like being jealous, Ryan. Not of a memory, not of someone right in front of me, not even… it’s not fun.” No, it’s not. “But I can’t help it, because I don’t like thinking of you with-”

“Then don’t.” He reached out, taking your hand, and was grateful that you let him. “I sure as hell don’t wanna think about you with some other guy, so I get it.” You laughed at that, even as the two of you moved toward where the train cars were parked, a few people passing by as you walked. “Never been over here before, it’s always been closed, but I’ve wanted to…” He paused. “Go inside the engine, see-”

“See what you were riding around on all those years?” You elbowed him, a slightly more neutral tone in your voice. “You saw the open sky from the boxcars, Ry, but never the…” She gets it. “Let’s go, what are you waiting for?” He stopped on the sidewalk, angling his body toward yours. “Ryan?”

“Are we alright?” He didn’t even want to ask, but knew that he had to. “I need to know before we keep…”

“Yes.” You said the word with conviction, stepping close and pressing your hand against his chest. “I just got upset for a second, but I’ll be fine. I’m not going to let it… ruin this, ruin our..” Your fingers bent slightly, digging into his skin. “We’ve still got a few hours before the streetlights come on, Brenner. Let’s get you back on a train.” In disbelief, Ryan watched you, breath caught in his throat. Is she really alright? Is this… But you caught him off guard again by rising onto your toes to kiss him, lips warm as they met his. Ryan lifted a hand to the back of your head, tilting his to the side, but didn’t press his luck and pulled back after a few seconds. “W-”

“Gotta keep my hands offa you in public.” He grinned, knowing that things still weren’t perfect, but wanting to keep the mood light. “But when we get back to the house tonight?” It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “No promises, if you’ll…” You winked, the excitement in your eyes something he was thrilled to see. “Good.” Ryan rolled his neck without looking away from you. “C’mon, let’s get on that train.”

---

Your POV

After the tense few minutes in the museum and the parking lot, things relaxed between you and Ryan, but you were still less excited than you had been when you woke up, and you were apprehensive about what was to come. I knew something was wrong. I knew he… You’d felt the distance growing as you made your way through the museums, which had been filled with things that you’d enjoyed looking at and learning about, but when it had become apparent that he was barely listening to you, you’d called Ryan out - not wanting to be right. But I was. Jackie’s presence loomed over you, and even though you believed him when he said he wanted to be there, that he was in love with you, that being back in Ogden was just hitting him harder than he thought it would, you knew that you and Ryan would have to work hard to recover the day… if it was at all possible. It is. It has to be.

Ryan talked about the trains as you made your way past the row of them, pointing out the differences, and you realized that not only had he spent a great deal of time on them, but that he’d also learned about the vehicles, wanting to better understand his primary mode of transportation. “You wanna come in with me?” The two of you stopped next to the engine that you’d be able to enter, but rather than giving him an answer, you stepped back, reaching for your phone. “What are you -”

“It’s a good shot, Ryan. You and the…” You gestured. “The colors, and the mountains…” He looked surprised but didn’t argue with you, and even though you didn’t have your main camera, you took a few shots with your phone, giving him directions but overall just letting him stand how he wanted to, knowing that it was better that way. “Got it, Ry.” You put your phone back into your pocket, stepping over to where Ryan still stood, his hands in his pockets and a thoughtful look on his face. “What?”

“You still wanted to…” He looked down, shrugging. “Nothin’. Don’t worry about it.” Ryan leaned over, putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer for a few seconds. “Let’s go in and see it, and then we can head up 25th and stop for somethin’ to eat.” Slightly confused at his refusal to answer your question, the two of you stepped up into the engine, making your way through the cabin. It didn’t take long, but you saw Ryan’s eyes light up as he stepped down the narrow aisle toward the cab, taking a seat in the engineer’s chair, long fingers wrapping around the gear knob as you stood behind him, watching. His fingers moved over everything, trailing over the buttons and knobs, and you pulled your phone out again, snapping pictures. This is him. This is …

By the time you made it down the hall and through the sleeping quarters, stepping onto the small ledge that would have been between the engine and the first car, Ryan was fully back with you, holding your hand tightly and pulling you into the conversation, doing his best to answer questions for you. You didn’t know exactly what he was talking about, but the tone of his voice made you happy, and you could tell that he was happy, too. “How close did you… stay to the engines, Ryan?” Your eyes moved over his form, the mountains behind him, the way he was leaning against the metal exterior of the train. “Not too close, right? Or they wou-”

“It depended on what kinda train it was. The boxcars were no big deal, I could pull myself into one pretty much anywhere, because they couldn’t see me in ‘em, but the open cars, the gondolas?” He shook his head. “Had to pick those a little more careful, because if I jumped into one an’ it wasn’t completely empty? It’s easier to be seen, so I picked those when I was only goin’ a short trip, or when it was warm enough that I could sleep outside an’ watch the sky.” He had a faraway look in his eyes for a minute, but then he looked back at you and they focused. “I miss it, sometimes, but not because I miss the travelin’, I just miss… it was open, you know?” You did, and so you nodded, thinking about the nights you’d slept on beach chairs, the fields you’d sat in long after dark just to hear the sounds of nature around you.

“I get it, Ryan.” Swallowing, you let your eyes scan the horizon again, focusing in on the tops of the mountains in the distance, still over his right shoulder. “Freedom, things being unpredictable, the -”

He stopped your words by kissing you again, surging forward and threading his fingers through your hair, palm pressed against your cheek. It surprised you but you didn’t stop him, instead raising your hands to close them around the material of his jacket, pulling him close to you. He didn’t hold himself back, his other arm going around your waist as he coaxed your lips apart with his tongue, and you sighed quietly. How can I doubt anything with him? Ryan finally pulled back, his eyes warm in the afternoon sunlight, and didn’t speak, instead watching you and waiting. What? You felt your lips quirking up into a smile at his stare, and after long seconds, Ryan leaned in again, lowering his lips to your ear. “I’m right here with you, I promise.” I know you are, Ryan, I just… He kissed the side of your face, running his nose along your cheek and then backed off, taking a breath. “You ready to see 25th?”

“Yeah.” You lowered your hands, taking one of his again and squeezed. “Think I am.”

---

By the time it was getting dark, you’d made your way up 25th street and to the amphitheater, walking through the open space - most of it still snow-covered aside from the paths, Ryan’s arm around your shoulders. After stopping for pizza at a tiny shop on the corner of Lincoln, you weren’t hungry, and were finally starting to relax again, welcoming Ryan’s company and the stories he told you about the restaurants on the street, the shops that lined it. It was hard for you to believe that he’d only spent a few months in the city, but you realized that he’d been trying to learn about the place he’d considered settling, and it startled you. He really tried. He really thought… But the closer you listened, walking with him, you heard in his voice that he was talking about each location with a detached tone of voice. He knew the places but had no connection to them, could tell you what they were like, but didn’t have many important memories. He didn’t talk about Ogden the way that he spoke about Chicago or Seattle or even Charleston - and you knew without a doubt that Ryan hadn’t ever felt a real connection to the city, no matter what he’d tried to do. But the pizza was good.

“So there’s a brewery,” Ryan said, leaning over to talk into your ear again, the sounds of the increasing number of cars making it a little more difficult to hear. “Called Rooster’s, it’s on the other side of the street.” He cleared his throat. “I worked there a couple weeks when I was livin’ here, and they’ve got good food, beer’s better than average.”

“We should go.” You nodded, eyes moving to your left and finding the illuminated sign. “Looks like my kind of place.” He laughed from next to you, and you glanced up in time to see him nod his head. “We’ll Uber, that way we can both drink, and not worry about getting back to the house.”

“Definitely.” He raised his arm to point out another of the colorful horses, this one illuminated by a small light mounted to the base, though you didn’t stop to look closely. They were scattered on the sidewalks, and Ryan told you that they were set up each year to go along with the largest Rodeo event in the area, and you’d taken pictures with some of them, Ryan even posting one on his Instagram page of him with a golden horse, reared up on its hind legs. The project was interesting to you, and you knew that you’d be bringing your camera with you the next time you came downtown, documenting things with the powerful lens. I can still enjoy Ogden, even… it’s great for pictures.

Ryan took your hand as you walked back down the well-lit street toward Union Station and the car, still talking and pointing out the places where he’d played, the spots where he’d had the best luck. Stopped and waiting for a light to change so that you could cross back over Lincoln, Ryan was gesturing down the street to a tattoo shop that he’d said he contemplated getting a tattoo done at when he trailed off in the middle of a sentence. “Ryan?” You frowned as you looked up at him, seeing his eyes focused ahead of you. “What’s…”

“Nothing, I just…” He shook his head, looking down. “Thought I saw…” He chewed on his lip, taking a deep breath. “Just seein’ things, it’s no big deal.” The light changed and you started walking again, Ryan’s steps slowing slightly as you passed an Italian restaurant called Rovali’s, the bright lights from inside spilling out onto the sidewalk. You slowed too, eyes scanning the windows, and though you felt him stiffen next to you, you didn’t need him to explain why. Oh, shit. Jackie was seated at the window table, a young blonde girl next to her and a handsome - though nondescript man across from her, wide smile on his face. She’s right there. She… Seeing the woman for the first time, even though glass, was a shock to you, because though you knew what she looked like, you were unprepared for the wide smile on her face as she spoke to her husband and then the server, the way you heard Ryan inhale from next to you as he watched the three of them.

He squeezed your hand more tightly but you were frozen, heart pounding in your chest as you watched the woman through the glass, and then, just as you were steeling yourself to start walking again, her gaze moved to the window, landing on your face for a moment - and then, as if she recognized you, immediately sliding to your right, where Ryan was standing. Move. Walk. Don’t stand here. You took a step forward, though you were unable to look away as she stared at Ryan through the window, her eyebrows shooting up, lips freezing in a smile, but it wasn’t until he’d started moving too that you felt yourself breathe again. Just get back to the car, get back to the house, get… Ryan didn’t speak as you moved, the people you passed on the sidewalk allowing you space, and even though you didn’t let go of Ryan’s hand, you relaxed your grip on it, knowing that he felt the change. She’s right there, what are the odds? What if she comes out, what if… It was less than a block back to the parking lot, and when you reached the crosswalk at Wall Avenue, you glanced from side to side before walking through the red light and across the street, not pausing the way that you should have.

“Hey.” He spoke loudly, following as closely behind you as he could, hurrying you across the street and past the fountain, which was illuminated in the darkness. Ryan said your name as you reached the curb and you finally stopped, turning to face him and pulling your hand away from his. “Don’t do this.” He shook his head back and forth and you saw his eyes darken as he stepped toward you. “I didn’t -”

“I know you didn’t, Ryan.” You reached up, rubbing at your face. “But that’s my luck. That we’d… that she’d…” You were suddenly tired, the good feeling that had slowly returned throughout the previous few hours gone, and wanted nothing more than to be back at the house. Maybe I’ll have a beer and sit in the hot tub, maybe I’ll… “I want to go home, Ryan.” You shrugged, reaching into your purse for the keys to your car. “I’m just… done with today.” You swallowed, looking over his shoulder and half expecting to see the woman making her way down the sidewalk to where you stood. “I need -”

“Can I drive?” He was watching you, speaking cautiously. “I know it’s your car and all, but I don’t … you’re upset, and…” You handed the keys over to him without speaking, fingertips brushing his palm, but neither of you said anything else as you headed back to your parking spot, Ryan clicking the car unlocked as you reached it. What did he see in her? You stared out the window as he drove, the interior of the vehicle silent except for the low sound of the radio. Did this… are we… Ryan kept both hands on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road, and you were reminded of the apprehension you’d felt on the way home from finding him in Philadelphia, like there was more unsaid between the two of you than you could ever hope to say out loud. But this time, it’s about…You took a long breath, staring out the window at the houses you were passing, but couldn’t bring yourself to look at Ryan. He… they... She was… “You want me to park in the garage, or…?”

“Driveway’s fine.” You were unbuckling the seat belt before he’d removed the keys from the ignition, and you heard the wavering of your voice. Shit. “Thanks for driving, Ryan.” You sat in total silence for a few seconds and when you finally brought your gaze up to his face, you saw that Ryan was watching you with a worried look in his eyes. “I need a ... “ You stopped, thinking. What do I need? “I need some time, Ryan, that was … I wasn’t... “ You pushed your door open, getting out and then leaning back into the car, sighing. “Just give me a …”

“Whatever you need, I don’t want to…” He shook his head, leaning toward you in the darkness. “Just don’t leave, yeah?” I wouldn’t. I… I couldn’t. Promising him that you wouldn’t go further than the back yard, you used the code to unlock the gate, removing the cover of the hot tub and turning it - along with the overhead lights of the covered patio on before heading into the house through the garage. Ryan was sitting on the couch as you walked by, holding your guitar in his hands, but he didn’t speak as you went up the stairs and into the bedroom. By the time you were changed and wrapped in one of the large towels, he was playing and singing - loudly - voice echoing in the open room. He sounded sad, singing strained as he made his way through one of his original songs, but you didn’t stop, walking out the sliding glass door and into the backyard, bare feet moving quickly over the cold cement. Tossing the towel onto one of the chairs, you climbed into the steaming, bubbling water, sinking in to your neck and closing your eyes, trying to clear your mind. None of it matters. Don’t let it…

But even over the rumbling of the bubbles coming out of the vent next to you, and despite the closed door, you could hear the loud twang of Ryan’s guitar strings as the tears started rolling down your cheeks.

---

General:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @obscurilicious @sweetybuzz25 @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @gollyderek @poindexted @ificouldhelpyouforget @elanor-of-imladris @thesandbeneathmytoes @luminex3 @geeksareunique @weallhaveadestiny @mfackenthal @thesumofmychoices @yannii04 @beautiful-thinking @drinix @agentlingerie @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @dreams-with-thoughts @wangmangagavroche @traeumerinwitzhelden @jigsawlover10 @malionnes @addictedtofictionalcharacters @riddlefeeligns

Ryan Brenner:

@nananananananananananabatman @benbarnestongue @thisisparadisemylove @chibiyanai @sweetgoodangel

Uncategorized:

@banditthewriter @padfootagain @madamrogers @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso @malik-payne @lynne1993 @ladyblablabla @dreamwritesimagines @audreychaz @tc-elliot @kind-wolf-blog @honeyydippaa @binbonsadoration @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ms-delos @jeanettexkillian @avengerswhore @elioelioeli0 @projectcampbell @giggleberts

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starstruck-thirst · 5 years ago

Text

She Wants Revenge

Part 6

Pariston Hill: Maybe She’s Right

Series title is from band based on the same name. The chapter title comes from the song ‘Maybe She’s Right’ by She Wants Revenge. You can find it by clicking the here. Sincerely I hope you guys listen to these songs because they are picked very specifically.

QUICK NOTE: Thank you all for reading this and being patient. I hope that the ending will leave you feeling satisfied, or at minimum feeling something deep and potentially haunting. This was a year long project and I'm very happy to have seen it through.Each comment left I read a million times. I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you for reading, leaving likes, and sharing your own words. I hope to see you in the next thing I write. ☆

Part 1 of series is here.

Warnings: Blood, fem dom, dubious consent (dub-con), mental manipulation, PTSD, light choking, slight impact play, NSFW ______________________ Even without nen abilities, anyone would have sensed the tension in the air. It hung thick like a fog over the sea, masking whatever potential dangers and terrors could lay just beyond the boundary of vision.

Not all funerals had such a weight, but this wouldn’t be the first or last that would.

Due to circumstances being what they were, the funeral was held in a rented hall and not at the hunter headquarters. Letters had been delivered to inform any and all they were allowed to come and pay respects to a fellow hunter, and so the hall had been specifically chosen due to its large size. But with the large number of people that did actually come, hunters and non- hunters from the headquarter offices alike, the large room still felt small somehow.

People taking turns at the urn of ashes and portrait to say final goodbyes before milling about with the rest of the crowd kept the room abuzz with strained activity. Everyone was still unnerved about the lack of lead on the murderer. If HQ couldn’t figure out a break into their own offices, how would they ever find a murderer? The feeling of piling issues helped to add to the tension fog in the room, but one question hung heaviest:

Who had tried to kill Pariston Hill?

It was customary that higher ups would go to a funeral of a dead hunter if they were able, but this one was so strained that Netero and the entire zodiac had come (minus the boar, naturally). The relationships between members of the zodiac were dodgy at the best of times, but now the other members especially didn’t seem to want to stand too close to the vice president in question. Pariston wasn’t too bothered by this.

In fact, it was hard to tell if he was bothered by anything. The occasional person would approach him and offer their condolences, and he’d take them with as much grace as he could, but there was a quiet about him that people couldn’t place.

Rumors were fast travelers in offices, so people knew that there was previously some kind of relationship with the deceased... or had been again? It was hard to be sure. But everyone knew that she was dead from pushing Pariston out of the way of an assassin’s blow. So that was reason enough for many to offer him their words specifically, relationship or not.

Pariston’s brown eyes caught sight of Thesander talking with Netero in the corner. He still had yet to pin the man down again to find out what he had been up to on the day of the break-ins, but now it might not matter. Today he was part of the security detail and would be hard to corner without anyone noticing. Making sure that no one tried anything at the funeral involved frequent check-ins, and Pariston wanted to have an uninterrupted conversation.

Sadly, the presence of security didn’t make many people feel any more reassured. After all, they hadn’t been able to solve anything so far.

“Thank you, keep checking in,” Netero said with a nod.

Thesander bowed before turning to leave, catching Pariston in the corner of his eye before pointedly looking away. With an obvious frown, Pariston considered revisiting the man at a later time today after all.

“How are you feeling?”

Netero had approached Pariston while he was lost in thought, but even caught off guard he didn’t let on that he had been less than prepared.

“A bit tired, actually,” he responded, moving his attention to the chairman. “I suppose that is what one is to expect from a funeral.” All of his usual quirks were still in place, the appropriate smile of one who was doing ‘their best’ with matching tired eyes.

“True. I assure you that security is doing all they can.”

Pariston knew that Netero meant in protecting the event as well as finding answers. But he honestly didn’t anticipate that the effort would be of any use to anyone.

“I’m sure they are. I think I’ve had about as much as I can stomach today, though. If you’ll excuse me.”

Netero watched Pariston as he left. A few other hunters noted his exit as well, causing a new wave of hushed whispers to rise up. He wasn’t acting his usual self, but what was to be expected? A threat on his life and the loss of someone that he was obviously close to would do that to anyone.

So he knew people would convince themselves. It was a convenient cover for the time being. But Pariston wasn’t one to be left wondering too long, and security or not, he had a need to find his own answers.

~*~*~

He entered into his apartment, dropping his keys unceremoniously onto the side table by the door with a loud clatter as he let out a long, aggravated sigh. His previous intel had been useless, but he wasn’t giving up. This was why he had people and they were going to do their fucking jobs, he thought as he dug his phone out from his pocket.

He too hastily punched a phone number in, pushing his way into his office in an adrenaline fueled rush. Rarely had he felt so aggravated, so much so he was being careless. He had gotten so accustomed to being in control of his world, and at minimum his own home, that he had let some of his caution slip.

And opportunity knew when to strike.

Before he could push the call button on his phone a noose slipped around his neck with a quiet ease. The silk rope caught tight before he had time to think. He dropped his phone so both hands could go to the rope and grip it, trying to pull it loose from his neck.

Distracted with the rope, the assailant easily tripped Pariston, a knee pushed into his back to accelerate his fall. There was no time to think as a thin needle slipped into his neck below the rope as he slammed into the ground.

He grunted with effort to recover as both hands scrambled to push up off the ground. Even as he got to his knees, the person on his back remained where they were: one knee against his spine and trying to force him back down, one hand still holding the rope tight, the other pulling the needle free of his neck.

He thrashed his elbows backwards, attempting to do anything to knock his assailant away. His increased heart rate only helped whatever had been in the needle course through him faster and quickly he tired. Legs losing the ability to function and making him fall to his knees when he tried to stand. He felt the carpet rub against his face before losing consciousness.

You panted, sitting on Pariston’s back, rope still in hand and a fine sweat covering your forehead. You had done it. You had subdued Pariston. His body was completely still as you loosened the rope enough for him to be able to breathe easily again. You waited several minutes before allowing yourself to relax, just in case he had been pretending.

He wasn’t pretending, you were sure.

“Now for the rest,” you muttered, turning Pariston over and standing. “I think we’re overdue for a little revenge, Mr. Hill.”

~*~*~

Pariston’s coming back to consciousness was slow, and you watched his head roll from side to side as he fought off the lingering effect of the drugs.

While he had been having a nice drug induced nap you had used the time to prep his office for your own uses. New chain loops in the floor, a few tools added to the items on his desk, and of course enough rope to try out a few different ties you had been thinking on over the past few months.

Admittedly, you had to give yourself credit, the pose you put him in was quite pleasing. Naked, he knelt in the center of the office floor with ankles tied to chain loops you’d installed. His arms were bound together behind his back; ropes running between his wrists and up to his elbows for another connection point before tying into a chest harness that you had rigged to the ceiling so that when he woke he was already on his knees, partially suspended.

Long had you dreamt of the day you’d have Pariston kneeling helplessly before you. And now that dream was reality.

Groggily he lifted his head and looked up at you, eyes focusing to see you in his office chair watching him in turn. You had allowed yourself a few dramatics: a long black coat, white garter stockings, heeled boots. You knew it was a bit pretentious, but if you didn’t do it now the opportunity wouldn’t come again. He smirked at you and hung his head as a guttural chuckle rolled out from his chest.

He wanted you to prompt him about it, you knew. Pariston’s games were so obvious to you now. But you didn’t say anything. Instead you sat, head resting on your fist as you leisurely leaned on the arm of the office chair, waiting for him to be done with his own theatrics.

“I know about you breaking into my office,” he said finally, lifting his head to look at you, eyes completely dark and devoid of his usual fake sweetness. Even his grin was just a twisted mimic of his normal one.

“I would hope so, we are sitting in it,” you replied simply, showing no fear or concern at his appearance.

His eyes narrowed. He knew you were playing with him, and as much as he was able he wasn’t going to let you. “Telling the association about my… activities won’t be worth all this effort. I have already put into place countermeasures to assure that.”

“Oh, Pariston,” you said with an exasperated sigh as you dropped your arm to lean forward in the chair, “I don’t care.” Your face was only two feet from his as you leveled with him. “Do you think I care what you have done to those poor missing hunters? Though to be fair… eighteen is quite a lot.”

He didn’t respond; his face didn’t even shift at all in reaction to what you said.

You stood, walking around the room to a wall that had a familiar art piece hanging on it. This too you had added while he napped.

“Or is it you think I care what you have done to other women?” you asked as you caressed the painting that had been titled ‘Snare’ in what you knew was Pariston’s honor. “Though I do have to admit, this one was an interesting person. Truly talented.”

Still refusing to give you any power, Pariston was silent as you looked the painting over again. “No,” you continued at last as you turned to face him again. “I don’t care. But!”

You started towards him again, reveling in his watching you from his place on the floor, “I wanted you to think I cared. I wanted you to think that I was gathering intel about those hunters. That way you had something to focus on, a plan that you could curve and best me in.” You smiled as you made your way round him to the desk at his back. “Pariston Hill. Vice Chairman. The Rat. You always were so presumptuous.” Silently, you picked up the riding crop from the set of items you had placed upon the desk in preparation earlier. “Always thinking you were one step ahead of everyone around you.”

The sound of the crop singing through the air to strike his back was the sweetest music you had ever heard. As expected, he made very little noise. But the quiet hiss he couldn’t hold back was equally as sweet a sound.

“You always stood so tall and sure,” you continued, bringing the crop down again. “Sure no one could touch you. No one would get a step ahead of you.” Another smack. “But now look at you.”

Walking around the rest of the way, you stopped in front of him, placing the crop under his chin to urge him to look up. The thought to resist crossed his mind, you saw it as plain as day, but that would be giving you a power he didn’t want. Instead he went with the movement, as if it was something he was allowing you to do. “On the ground like the rodent you are.”

A wide smile was still on his face and it admittedly was starting to annoy you. “I knew I was right.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think it is safe to say there is much about this situation you overestimated.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “I knew you hated me,” he said looking up at you with a spark in his eyes again. The corrupt dark of his face would have made you second guess yourself in the past. But now it had the exact opposite effect: it gave you a new rush, something bubbly and warm. It traveled from your heart out to your limbs and made you laugh. A nice, long, true laugh.

Squatting down, you put your right hand to his face, cupping it tenderly as you stifled the noise back. “That was your mistake, Pariston. You didn’t make me hate you.” In your head you envisioned your fingers slipping into his skin, probing deep into his face as you fed into the desires of your heart. You wanted him to truly feel what you had to say. “You made me love you.”

You remembered the feeling of butterflies on your first kiss. The ill guided sense of feeling like a prized possession when he became jealous. Your burning rage at seeing another woman on his arm at the gallery. So many things you remembered and fed directly into him, and as you did you watched his face.

Even the proud man he was couldn’t remain neutral when bombarded with such strong desires. His smirk faded and a look of pain started to grow in his eyes, his entire demeanor changed into something you couldn’t recognize. “Don’t you remember that last night? Even as close to literal insanity as I was, I still remember it.”

Hand still on his face you leaned in to his other ear and whispered, “I trust you. I love you. I’ll be a good girl for you. I love you so much, Pariston.”

His skin went cold under your hand and you pulled away to stand again. “I suppose part of that was a lie after all. I have no intentions on being good for you now. Now I’m being good for me.”

You moved the office chair to the side of the room as Pariston hung his head, processing all that you had just pumped into him.

“You wanted to know what I was doing for a year, didn’t you? You asked only a few days ago. You know… the day I died,” you continued, coming back to him and circling to his back once more. “I think it is time I showed you what I am capable of.”

Everything inside of you felt like it was on high alert. You hadn’t taken any dark, powerful, and overwhelming desires in a while. So this was all your own. The thrumming of energy that you could feel down to the tips of your fingers, the hyper-aware senses, the twisted cravings that whispered in your ears. This was all you.

Not borrowed. Not shared.

“I decided that maybe it was time to train up my nen abilities at last. You’ve gotten just a little taste of them just now, but to be honest… I’ve been holding back before today. Waiting for this chance.” You slid your hands over his back, keeping the crop in your hand between finger and thumb for the moment. “Not only can I use my manipulation ability more accurately now, but a nice side effect appeared after our relationship. I can feel your desires, get traces of your thoughts. Then I can turn them over in my hands and mix them with my own and make you feel what I want. It’s a handy trick to have as well as general manipulation. Would you like to see?” you asked in a hushed voice, sliding your left hand down his back and around to his chest.

Naturally he didn’t respond, and you stopped with your hand over his heart. “Pariston, you will do whatever I want. You will not use nen, and you will not stop until I give you permission. Answer me that you understand.”

The rush of nen that flowed from your hand directly into his body felt like a river compared to your previous encounters. This was your ultimate level of ability, a level 4. Something you promised you would only use on Pariston. He would be compelled to do anything, even if it could be something that caused him great harm.

“I understand,” his voice replied, dull and lacking any of his normal trills of joy.

You shivered, his response resonating inside of you so strongly that every hair on your body raised. “You can sound more excited about it. I’ll still allow you to speak however you want. Perhaps you’ll want to call me a slut again as I make you lick my boots,” you muttered in his ear before pulling away and shaking your hands, still feeling the rumble of excitement in knowing your ability was working as it intended.

“Do you still feel you ‘know me’, Pariston?” you asked, bringing the crop down on his back with a harsh slap, a pink blush blooming on his white skin. You knew personally that if you let it blossom a bit more it would deepen into a red stain. You hit him again, walking around once more to see his face.

“Look at me,” you commanded.

His head trembled as he actively tried to fight your command now, but was unable. Finally he’d stopped smiling, the lines of his mouth curved somewhat downward as something inside raged unseen. It only made your own smile grow.

Dramatically you opened your coat and let the dark fabric slip from your shoulders to reveal the white lingerie set. “Don’t you remember? That was what you told me when you gave me this. So tell me, do you know me?”

You could see his shoulders tense, every part of him wishing to regain the upper hand. “Yes.”

“Interesting,” you said, stepping forward so you could rub your leg against his face. “Tell me more.”

A fresh grin. “I helped create you. You’re just emulating me. So of course I know you.”

“Not entirely true. I have more creativity,” you said, hooking your leg over his shoulder so that your inner thigh was next to his face. “Show me a bit of affection, won’t you, dear?”

He was so deep in your control that commands didn’t need to be terribly specific, as long as the intention was clear. As you commanded he turned his face into your leg and kissed the sensitive flesh. “We’ve had a lot of good times together, haven’t we? Just because the roles switched a bit doesn’t mean we can’t both enjoy it.” He didn’t respond, kissing his way up your inner thigh as you leaned into his movement. “Tell me the truth, Pariston, are you enjoying this even a little?”

His lips brushed the white underwear teasingly, and he answered with eyes lowered. “Yes. A little.”

“Would you prefer to be standing where I am right now?”

“Yes.” This answer was faster and firmer than the previous. Dutifully he continued to nose and lip at your underwear in a tender fashion that you had rarely seen.

Even at the beginning of things the first time, he had never been truly gentle. Something about it was exciting in its oddity.

You tilted your foot on his back to press a heel into his muscles as his tongue lapped at your pussy. The action earned another uncontrollable hiss from him. “Not too far. We have a lot to do,” you said, pulling your leg away again.

“Stand up,” you commanded, pulling the rigging rope that you had tied off on the side of the room to help coax him to move quickly.

Paristion stood, wobbling just a touch as blood rushed to his legs from having knelt so long. You tied the rope off once it was taut enough to keep his body hoisted if he were to try and dead weight on it.

“Oh, you’re a bit hard,” you pointed out, approaching him again. Teasingly you ran the crop under his testicles, then up the shaft, watching his leg muscles tense as you did so. “Maybe you like this more than you’d like to admit.” You leaned in close so you could see up into his face. He looked back at you, refusing to back down each time you stepped up.

Putting your hand into his hair, you pulled his face to yours to kiss him, using the connection as an opportunity to fill him with desire again. Want me. Look at me. Want me so much that it hurts. That was what you wanted more than anything else on the planet. You just wanted his undivided attention, lust, love.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” you told him as you dropped the crop, letting it hang by the strap on your wrist so that you could take his cock into your hand. “I’ve dreamt of you looking at me, unable to do anything as I teased you.”

You pressed against him with your palm and rubbed up and down with force. “Don’t hide how it makes you feel,” you told him, kissing his throat. “I want to hear you.”

Warm, sighing breath turned into a quiet humm as you resumed biting and sucking the perfectly even skin. He had marked you so many times, but you were not allowed to do the same. ‘It’s proof you’re mine,’ he had told you, and so you had savored each hickey and lash in the private sanctuary of your bedroom.

He pressed his hips forward to help create more pressure in your hand as you bit his neck particularly hard, the iron taste of blood slipping into your mouth with the next suck as Pariston groaned reluctantly into your ear.

“Should I leave you on edge as you did to me?” you whispered, licking your lower lip free of the tiny trace of blood that had escaped. The wound wasn’t big, and the amount of blood was slight, but seeing the mark was satisfying. “Would that be fair, you think?”

Gripping his cock firmly, you pumped him as your hand in his hair pulled his head back with a cruel tug. His perfect lips were open as he groaned and panted, silhouetted in the dim room from your perspective. Had he enjoyed watching you as you enjoyed watching him? Did he see art in you?

You licked your hand, making it wet and slippery so that when you resumed your fast and hard hand job Pariston’s knees buckled almost immediately. It didn’t take long before he came, white cum covering your hand as he moaned his release.

“Good boy,” you praised, releasing his cock and hair at the same time before wiping his cum on a towel you had kept on the desk with the other supplies.

Surprisingly, he remained standing with his own strength. But while he stood there you could see his eyes trying to focus as his shoulders tensed and loosened, a little cum still dripping from his tip. He was trying to break the manipulation.

“We’re not done just yet. I am just warming you up. Wouldn’t want you to go soft on me when I’m still using you,” you told him as you gripped the crop again.

“Stand up straight,” you said, bringing the item against his ass to emphasize the point. He snapped back into position at the command.

“Do you know what it is like to love someone, Pariston?” you asked, rubbing a hand down one shoulder to his arms, feeling their strain and testing the muscles to see if they needed a rest. “The kind of love that makes someone choke the life out of their infant in a tub so the dirty and dark world can’t touch them. The kind of love that causes children to hug a pet to death. A man shoots his wife so that she can never leave him. A love so deep, enthralling, and consuming that it roots through every part of your brain? Pleasure, fear, hunger.”

As you spoke, you finished rubbing each arm and then moved back to where the ropes were tied off, dropping the crop to the floor as you went. As you released them entirely, Pariston wobbled, following your command to stand straight even without the support of the rope suspension. His arms fell to rest against his back and he softly sighed at the relief.

“Don’t move from that spot unless I make you. And do not touch me unless I tell you to,” you commanded, in case some part of him managed to find a loophole in command and break through in any small amount.

Despite your caution, you still picked a knife from the desk and used it to cut the loop that attached his ankles to the floor. Then you pulled the suspension rope free of the harness and tossed it to the side. He didn’t move the entire time.

“Even when I’m bored I think of you,” you confessed, running the blade along one of his thighs, just enough pressure to open up a thin line of blood, but not enough to cause real bleeding. “Do you know what that feels like?”

“I know what you’ve shown me,” he replied, face obscured by his shoulder from where you stood.

A part of you felt disappointed. He couldn’t lie to you, so his words had to be truthful. Yes, you had known that he didn’t love you. At this point you didn’t truly want him to, because that would have made things complicated. But there was that small part of you that was still so enamored by him that it hurt to know he never loved you.

Yet at the same time it was freeing to the rest of your mind. The part that had suffered, cried, picked up a knife and thought about suicide. For that part of you, it made everything so much easier.

“And I’m not done showing you,” you said, sounding normal despite the slight lump in your throat from the battling emotions.

You took in a deep breath and grabbed the loop around his wrist, pulling him backwards to the desk. Using your arm you swept the desk clear, office supplies and your own items clashing to the floor and scattering in a mess. Pariston looked over his shoulder, frustration plain on his face as he watched you make a mess of his personal desk. You looked back at him as you knocked the only item left on the desk that you had missed- a pen in an elaborate holder- on the floor with the rest.

As you slid onto the cold desktop, you released the rope before leaning back to watch him comfortably. “Face me,” you commanded, and he did. Grabbing the harness and tugging him between your legs you put as much skin to his body as you could. Thighs to his sides, chest to chest, one arm curled between your breasts so you could keep a hold of the harness. “Kiss me… like you love me,” you said looking up into his eyes.

It would have been sad, maybe it was still sad, if it wasn’t something that you specifically requested to make as much of a connection as possible. You wanted his mind to reach into the desires you fed, the feelings you contained, remember how he hurt you and be forced to reenact those things that had landed him where he was.

He hesitated, and you wondered if he would resist because he couldn’t be forced to do something he pretended to do before, but then he leaned down. His arms were still trapped behind his back, so he was unable to touch you, but all the same he brushed your lips with his before kissing you softly. No biting, no tongue, just soft press of lips. Then he kissed you again, taking your lower lip into his, pressing you backwards, and you cupped his chin with the handle of the knife you hadn’t let go, temporarily forgetting it was there.

As he kissed you, you imagined morphing into his skin and letting everything you had felt over the course of a year unleash into his body. The red vines of his desires pulled at you in retaliation, slipping under your skin and trailing your veins as both of your desires became a complicated and inseparable tangle.

You could barely focus to bring the knife to his back and cut the knot that kept his wrists together. With it broken the rest of the tie around his arms could easily slip off with movement. His hands immediately went to your face, pulling you to him as he simultaneously pushed your body further backwards onto the desk. With your eyes closed you could still see him, bright red vines coming from his skin and sinking ever deeper into yours, as your own skin connected to his before breaking apart when you moved.

It took effort to pull his mouth off of yours so that you could say anything. Perhaps that had been part of the plan, but you weren’t going to give up all the power and potentially let him slip away. Now you opened your eyes to see him staring at you, the spark in his eyes you had seen several times before perfectly in place in the darkness. Even if he hadn’t loved you truly, there had always been this strange, disgusting passion.

It would have to do.

“Love my body,” you whispered, “Until I am satisfied.”

Already he had been completely hard; you had felt his cock against your leg growing stiff as you kissed. Easily he used one hand to push the white panties to the side and spread your labia to enter into you. But unlike the previous recent times he didn’t enter into you with one hard thrust. Instead he eased inside at a nice pace. Not agonizingly slow or harshly fast.

You moaned, and he used his free hand to pull your bra up to reveal your breasts. Creating a steady pace with his hips, he licked your nipple before biting lovingly around it. Comparatively to all the times before, these were chaste, tiny love nips.

He rode you like this for some time as you held onto him with your thighs, watching his every move as he existed to please you for the first time. You reached down and put a hand on his throat, making him look up at you as you applied just enough pressure to have the threat of choking him available.

“Harder now,” you told him.

He happily obliged. One arm next to your head kept him steady as he built up speed. Your command earlier must have still been working, because he was groaning as he moved inside of you, something he rarely did with this much intensity.

As Pariston moved inside of you, gradually you applied pressure onto his throat. His groans turned into muffled noises as you kept the grip loose enough for him to breathe, but with a bit of difficulty. With time the act was morphing into something more familiar, rough and dark as he snapped into your hips with vigor.

You still had his harness in one hand, keeping him close and the feeling of power in both hands. “Work my clit,” you told him, breathy and surely flushed.

His free hand immediately moved to do so as he continued to work you. Even this movement was hard though, he pressed on the sensitive nub with too much energy but it was just what you wanted at this moment.

Your body tightened up and you cried loudly as you orgasmed, Pariston following soon after.

Every part of you felt good, and slowly you felt like Pariston’s desire vines retracted from your body. You thought at first that being left back to your own devices would make you feel empty and hollow, but it didn’t. You still felt as whole as when you had started.

Pariston, on the other hand, collapsed to his knees, and you released the harness at last.

He was panting hard, harder than what would have been normal for regular sex, but you had come to expect this from using your ability. He was exhausted from manipulation, and you could see him still trying to fight it off as he put his hands on the desk to each side of your hips.

“It’s no good, Pariston,” you said with a pleased sigh, enjoying the last little high of your orgasm before sitting up. “You’ll pass out before you break it.”

“What’s your plan then?” he asked, looking up at you as you moved to more comfortably sit on his desk to look down at him. “Eventually the association will come looking for me.”

You pouted. “I know. I have been thinking about this a lot, you realize.” You noted the trembling in his limbs. They were tired and still trying to fight to move against you. “Lay down before you tumble over.”

He frowned, but moved so that he would have room to do so anyway.

“I’ve thought about it almost every day. Several people have asked me what I’ll do with you,” you said, standing and adjusting your panties and bra so that you were somewhat back to normal.

“We’re not quite done. Sure someone will look for you. But not today. You attended a funeral and made it quite obvious you weren’t yourself. No one will be looking for you for at least two days, I would suspect. Was that fun for you by the way? My funeral? You didn’t look like you were having fun.”

Pariston closed his eyes, let out a long breath, and when he reopened them it was as if he were himself again. He was smiling, and spite being vulnerable on the floor he seemed to have made some kind of peace. “Tell me, (y/n), when did you decide you’d have to kill me?”

You hid your reaction by going to the fireplace in the corner of the room. It was getting dark out and no one would question the smoke. Pariston often liked to light it in the evenings. As you turned the dial for the gas you replied, “When you asked me if I hated you at dinner.”

The realization that you loved this monster, someone who would hurt you and do everything he could to crush you, had pushed that last remaining wall in your mind.

With a whoosh, the fire came to life before you. The warmth licked your thighs and you stared into it for a moment, strengthening your resolve.

“I’m sure you understand it was the only choice,” you said, turning back to face him, still enjoying the sight of him watching you. Having his full attention like this was so special. “Unlike you, I can’t just break you and abandon you. I’d just find you again. Or maybe this time you would find me, after all I have done to you. It would become a cycle never meant to be broken. The only way to be free of the cycle, is to make it go away.”

“Or,” he said, lifting a hand to brush stray hair from his face so he could see you--or more accurately, so you could see him--perfectly, “we just don’t stop the cycle. Stay with me, (y/n)-”

“Adra,” you interrupted.

He looked at you, and a glimpse of something passed his face, but he continued, “Stay with me, Adra. I’ll forgive you for acting out this once. Then we can go back to how we were.”

So easily his voice had slid back into honey and promises. He was so very good at that, and it’d be a lie to say that the pull at your heart wasn’t strong.

Without responding, you went to the knife you had dropped and picked it up lazily.

“Back to how we were?” you asked with a sweet tone, letting the emotion of that love sick idiot slip out of your mouth like water. Carefully you straddled him.

“Of course. I accepted you back last time, didn’t I? Obviously I care about you, Adra,” he said, lifting a hand and brushing his knuckles over your face as you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation.

With your eyes closed you breathed out, slow and ragged, then licked your lips. “Put your hands to the floor,” you said in the same sweet tone. Both wrists dropped to the floor. “And don’t move unless I tell you to.” You knew you had already said that command. So how he had touched your face like that you weren’t sure. But you weren’t going to lose focus and slip up like you had before.

With a breath in you opened your eyes again. “If you can give me the one thing I desire from you, Pariston, I’ll do anything you want.”

With your skin touching his you could get a read on his desires again, and he was definitely trying to obscure them by thinking about your desires. But it didn’t work. The red vines were curled and ready to strike, ready to possess and break. His words had been truthful. They would go back to how it was before. Before when you were the one taking orders, and he had done hateful things to you.

“Name it. What is it that you want, darling?” he asked with an iconic grin.

“I want your heart.” You let that truth hang in the air for a moment. “Tell me truthfully, can you give me your entire heart?”

He paused, shock and confusion clear on his face. But he couldn’t lie, it had been a command.

“No. I can’t.”

“That’s why I’m going to just take it. I’m going to take from you the only thing I’ve ever wanted, the thing you’ve refused to ever give me.” You held up the knife, silver shining in the fire light. “And then… I’ll be free.”

~*~*~

Epilogue:

“Time of death was last night,” Thesander said, stepping around the office items strewn on the floor.

“That is impossible, I called and checked on him last night,” Netero replied, his usual jovial mood completely clouded over as he stood in the office of his former VP. “Just to see if he was doing okay from the funeral the day before.”

“It must have been after that,” Thesander replied. “We’re still figuring out a timeline.”

Netero pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated that somehow three major incidents had happened so close together and all at once. They had to be connected. They had to be solved.

“Keep looking for clues,” Netero barked at the chosen CSI team as he left the office to think.

He didn’t get far, as Cheadle was waiting for him in the hallway.

“The lead was a dead end,” she said, foregoing drawing it out with the circumstances being what they were. “We couldn’t prove anything with the intel. If Pariston did make those hunters disappear he covered it very well. With luck we found the man Pariston had privately assigned to investigate the break-ins. He said Pariston seemed sure that (y/n) had something to do with it. You might want to talk to him,” she informed him with a quick hushed voice so as to not gain the attention of anyone else that was in the large apartment sweeping for clues.

Netero scowled. “What the hell happened here, Cheadle? Who was targeting Pariston?”

She sighed and looked around the hallway once before looking at her boss again. “It seems Pariston had many past relationships that ended… badly. My theory is one of them finally caught up to him, sir.”

“That would explain the body,” he responded, hands on his hips as he thought over the situation. “The body?”

Knowing Cheadle wasn’t exactly a fan of Pariston, Netero considered not bringing it up. But as he looked into her face he knew he had to if he wanted her help to solve this. “Pariston’s cause of death was removal of his heart.”

Thesander sighed, tipping his hat down over his forehead, hoping no one had noticed his sudden stillness and quiet breathing while he had listened in on the quiet meeting outside. Luckily he had always had good ears, a little known fact and one that could escape notice in times of stress.

“Thesander, do you think I’m a bad person?” she had asked him on the day of the break-ins, looking sadly into her tea. The small break room had been quiet before, only the sound of coffee brewing had filled the silence until she spoke.

He had almost spilled his coffee at the sudden question before looking at her. “N-no! Of course not. You’re just… You’re doing your best. I think everyone who works here knows that.” And it was the truth. While some people might look down on how she had handled things a year ago, her coming back spoke volumes to her strength.

She sipped her tea. “I think someone is plotting to set me up for something. I’m scared.”

Thesander hesitated. He knew the office rumors: if you got too close to someone Pariston was involved with, you could get hurt. Literally. But it was just office gossip. The morbid rumors created by people with too much power and time. “Hey. As part of security I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

She licked her lower lip and reached out, grasping his arm with her left hand. “Thesander, you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me in any way, right?”

His heart picked up. She looked so sad, so vulnerable. He had to help protect her. Had to. “Of course I won’t,” he replied, and meant it.

Her eyes looked up from her tea and into his, and he felt weak at her smile.

“You promise?” she asked, with more energy.

“Of course I promise.”

She squeezed his arm once and left the break room, leaving Thesander to reflect on the strange encounter alone, until Pariston had made his sudden entrance. It was immediately obvious to him why someone would ask such a favor when the VP was looming over you, looking at you the way Pariston had. That was when he knew that he would do whatever he could to protect her.

But then she had died and he had done nothing to prevent it. A feeling of regret had lived in his heart since that day.

“At least one problem fixed itself,” he quietly said with clear malice, looking at the cloth that covered the body still in the room.

Scouring the room one more time, Thesander stopped, seeing a hair next to the fireplace that didn’t look anything like Pariston’s. With a gloved hand he picked the item up and observed it. A flash of her face came to his mind.

“You find something?” a coworker asked from behind him.

“No,” he answered easily, “Just some of Pariston’s hair. I’ll bag it anyway.” The other man took that as well enough and moved out into the hallway to check in his own findings with the president.

Thesander put the hair into his pocket before making a very fast sweep of the room for any other signs of her. Another hair but nothing else. He pocketed it too before his coworker came in, making a mental note to do a deeper search for signs of her having been here when he was alone again.

“Netero says to take the painting too. I dunno why but he wants it,” his coworker said. “Man, he really did have a good taste in art, didn’t he?”

“Guess money does that sometimes,” Thesander joked back. The other man laughed and left the room to join the rest of the squad that was meeting in the kitchen.

The painting above the fireplace was entrancing, he had to admit. The dark reds, black, and white combinations created a feeling that was hard to describe. Almost as if you got too close it would trap you inside of it. But it was almost beautiful in its horror. A sense of hope somewhere in the white maybe?

He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know anything about art.

“Promise?” she had asked.

#star fic #long post #hunter x hunter//#pariston hill//#she wants revenge the series #dark fic #warnings at the beginning of post #finale

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gender-critical-analytical · 5 years ago

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Just read a post about cops and the shit these crazy, power hungry beasts do, and I want to share a few stories of my own experiences (I would ask you to keep in mind that I am white, and that I recognize how my white privilege kept me from having far, far worse experiences.) But, here we go:

Scene: my family, consisting of me, my mom, my grandmother, and my infant baby sister, is in our car. It’s an old, busted up vehicle that we got on an incredible bargain of $400, because the dealer was sympathetic to what we had going on in our lives at the time. It was winter, the sun was nearly fully set, and it was snowing heavily. We were driving home from checking out a house for rent nearby, which was a bust, because it wasn’t one we would be able to afford anyway. We were about 6 blocks from our house.

Flash of red and blue and a siren. We pulled over. A male cop approached the driver’s window where my grandmother was, and asked her why we thought he had pulled us over. My grandma played dumb and said she had no idea. We all figured it was because our plates were expired, and yeah, that was part of it.

He tells us that we drove too slow a few roads back, and that he suspected my grandma of being intoxicated. She remained completely polite, but told him that there was a very large, visible patch of ice in the road, and that we had already been approaching a red light. She had her two grandchildren in the car, and would rather be safe than sorry. Michigan winters are nasty, after all, especially when it comes to the roads. He accepted that answer. Then, he brought up the expired plates.

And so, my grandma gave him the short rundown:

“Officer, my family lost our home to a house fire, and we’ve just spent more than what we had relocating to our only option, which we still can’t afford. I had to choose between getting the plates renewed and feeding my daughter and her kids, and I made my choice. I’ve been driving as little as I can, and I plan to keep doing so until I can renew my plates.”

And he listened. He heard what she said. But he still didn’t care.

Cop: “Well, I’m sorry, but your vehicle is going to be towed.”

Grandma: “Ok. But we’re only six blocks from our home. Can we get back to our house, and then you can tow the car from there?”

My baby sister began to stir, and the cop looked when he heard her. My little sister is biracial, but she looks fully black. The officer, and I’m not even fucking joking a little bit here, laughs after seeing her, and says, “Well, it would just be a shame if you had to walk out in this cold with the little one.” He was fucking dripping sarcasm.

He had our car towed from where it was. He could have called another cop to drive us back to our home, but instead, he specifically made my grandma and my BABY SISTER stand in the snow, by the road, while he took my mom and I home first. We had no choice in what order he drove us. That man was such a fucking pig, I’m legitimately surprised he didn’t just make us all walk. My baby sister cried all night, and my mom struggled to warm her back up. We spent about a month without any form of transportation, until my grandmother found a dealer with some empathy who could give us another old, banged up car we still couldn’t afford.

Our plates were two months overdue.

Scene: My mother, my cousin and I, are on our way to a birthday party. I’m seven. My cousin is six.

My mom is intoxicated, very much so. She’s an alcoholic, but my cousin and I are too young to know that. She crashes the car.

There are no serious injuries, and no other vehicle is involved. My cousin and I cried like babies, but more out of fear than anything else. He bit his tongue, I bit my lip, or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, we were both bleeding from the mouth, not severely, but enough to frighten us even more.

A cop pulls over beside the car after I’m not sure how long. He is absolutely livid, red in the face. My mom is arrested for driving while intoxicated. The cops calls for backup to handle my cousin and I, but he does not wait for the other officer to arrive. He leaves with my mother in his car, and does not inform my cousin and I of what is happening, or that anyone will be coming for us. We are alone in a wrecked vehicle for nearly an hour before the other officer arrives. He gives a reason as to why he took so long, I don’t remember it. Neither of us know our other relatives phone numbers, we only know 911. The first officer took my mother’s phone along with her. It’s another two hours before we’re left in the custody of my aunt.

Scene: It’s early summer, just the beginning of June, 6 months or so before the first incident on this list. My family is using a rented U-Haul to move most of our furniture, and I have a friend over for my first official sleepover in the house. He helps us move, and for the brief few minutes he isn’t assisting me in lugging furniture into the house, he takes my dogs out into the yard for a small walk. While he’s out, a guy our age (16/17) happens to walk by on the street. He must not read social cues very well, because he stops and tries to talk to my family and I, while we’re moving a wooden dresser down the ramp of the U-Haul.

At one point, he gets out a pocket knife. I should make it clear that he wasn’t a genuine threat to any of us, he was just very, very talkative, and apparently very proud of the big ass knife he had just been given by his grandfather. He swung it around and made some jokes about being a ninja or whatever, and one of my dogs freaked out and made a mad dash at him. My friend, who we’ll call G, hadn’t been prepared to hold a full grown boxer back with one hand gripping the leash, and my dog pulled free and bit the dude’s leg. She didn’t break the skin, and the guy, who we’ll call D, was fine. He said he grew up with large dogs and had been beaten up much worse, and he promptly left without any trouble. This will become important later.

Skip ahead about an hour, and it’s on the verge of starting to get dark. Most of the stuff is in the house, and we’re done moving in for the night. My mom has just been paid for the week, but we haven’t gone grocery shopping yet, so there isn’t much to eat in the house. G has just gotten his level 2 driving permit, and he offers to take me and run down the street to get McDonald’s for everybody. My grandma is passed out on the couch, exhausted, and my mom is taking care of my fussing little sister. Although it’s illegal for G to drive without an adult in the car, my mom simply tells us that we should be fine; it’s just down the street, and as long as we’re safe and follow the road laws, we shouldn’t have any sort of trouble.

She gives us her credit card, takes her weed out of the car (a just-in-case measure that, looking back, was invaluable) and we go. G drives steadily, and I keep an extra eye on his speed the whole time just to be sure of it. We were both really nervous at first.

We get to the McDonald’s. We order food for ourselves and my family. We head back home. The sky is orange and bright, a small detail that will also have a decent level of importance later.

I live in a sort of community, it’s difficult to navigate and pretty large. G had a better understanding of how to get back to my house than I did, and this was his first time visiting. We were both worried about getting lost, but we figured if we did, park security (who are NOT officers) could help us. Just as we pulled into the entrance of the place, we see D from earlier, waving us down. G and I shared a look, before he pulled over. D didn’t even get to speak before we noticed red and blue lights behind us, which means now we were pulled over in both senses.

The cop had not even seen D until he looked through our car windows and noticed him on the other side of the vehicle. He swore upon seeing him and berated him for not putting his hands up and announcing himself as soon as the cop pulled us over. D, G, and I are all white. The cop tells us he pulled us over because our headlights weren’t on, and it was too dark for that. Again, the sky was bright orange, and the road and everything alongside it was easily visible.

G had turned 16 about a month ago, and was still getting used to it.

Cop: “How old are you?”

G: “I’m fifteen.”

Cop: “What?? Get out of the car, now. Hands where I can see them!”

Me: “He’s sixteen! He just turned sixteen! He mispoke!”

The officer demands that G show ID, while cuffing him. G tells him his permit is in the cupholder in his wallet. The cop accuses him of lying. I have my hands up where they can be seen, and I tell the officer that his wallet is right there, in plain sight. I don’t move my hands. I ask if the officer wants me to give him the wallet. He screams at me in absolute rage to keep my hands where he can see them, though I still haven’t moved. I complied, for a moment, and then announced, twice, because he acted like he couldn’t hear me

Me: “I’m reaching for my phone, it’s on the dashboard, I’m going to call the owner of this car.”

Cop: “It’s not your car?! This is a stolen vehicle?!”

Me: “No! This is my grandma’s car, we have her permission to drive it! We live in this neighborhood and I’m calling her to come speak to you!”

He pushes G, cuffed, forward, despite not walking forward himself, and then yells at him to stop moving and drags him back, slams him up against the car. I should mention that G, although male, is only about 5′9, and very thin. No muscle on him whatsoever.

At this point, I’m on the phone with my mother. My grandma didn’t pick up. I’m very shakily telling her what’s going on, and she tells me to just wait one moment, she’ll get my grandma up and have her come get us in the U-Haul.

The cop moves G into his vehicle, and D is still standing by my window, muttering variations of the word ‘yikes’.

I get off the phone with my mom, and loudly announce that I’m stepping out of the vehicle and approaching the cop’s car. It was difficult to raise my voice to a yell that he could hear from in his car, but I did, and I kept my hands up. I approached his window, and told him my grandma was on her way. I asked him if he would prefer I stay in my grandma’s car, if I were to just stand where he could see me, or if he would want to cuff me and keep me in his vehicle, too. As much of a snarky smartmouth as I can be, this was all said completely respectfully. My hands stayed up.

The officer told me to, quote, “Get any important shit out of the car and walk home.”

Me: “I’ve just moved here, and I don’t know how to get home. I want to wait here until my grandma arrives. It will just be a minute.”

Cop: “I told you to go. Walk.”

D, from near our car : “I can take you home, and help you carry the food!”

Cop: “You heard him. Go.”

Me: “I don’t know him, and I don’t feel safe walking somewhere I don’t know with a strange guy, can I please just-”

Cop: “I told you to fucking leave, that’s an order! Go! Fucking Go!”

At this point I was near tears, and I looked past the cop at G, who was nodding at me to leave.

When I did as the cop said and I got everything out of the car, he screamed at me again, and drew his gun. I explained that I was just doing what he told me to. He put the gun away.

On the walk back to the house, D took an extended path (which I only know now that I’ve lived in this neighborhood a while) and told me several explicit stories along the way. He made ‘jokes’ about raping me, and, I’m not even fucking kidding, forced me to wear his hoodie. I get that that doesn’t sound sinister, but he made me put everything down, took my phone, took the hoodie I was ALREADY WEARING, and made me put his on. I was fucking terrified, but I couldn’t say no because he had my phone, and he had a knife. I was fucking scared the whole time because for all I knew, he wasn’t even taking me home. He knew this place like the back of his hand, and I had no idea where I was or where I could even run to. For the rest of the 20 minute walk, he continuously made jokes about forcing himself on me, and I had nowhere to go.

When I made it back to my house safe and got my hoodie and phone back, he tried convincing me to let him stay and eat the food we’d gotten. My mom didn’t know any of what he’d said along the way home, but she made him leave. It was about 45 minutes from then until my grandma came back with G. The officer towed the car.

G had a breakdown and called his family, but he stayed the night still. He told me later that (important detail: G is gay, and, although I feel bad saying it, very noticeably so. He fits a lot of stereotypes, ie he has a lisp, dresses semi-nicely, and is somewhat flamboyant) the cop had called him a fag, had called him a dirty queer, had told him that his body cam was off, and that if something happened to him, no one would ever be able to prove it. The cop even had the fucking gall to chat over his radio about the ‘fag’ he’d picked up.

The cop threatened to have G put in jail overnight, or until his father would come to get him. All of this in the ten minutes it took for my grandma to get there.

These are all off the top of my head. I, a white teenager, have never once met a ‘good cop’. These encounters are mild compared to the absolute horror stories about police that I’ve heard. All of these ended up with all of us safe, and all of us living, but they very easily could have gone sour. My heart goes out to anybody with similar or worse experiences, because even though these were small, they were still absolutely fucking terrifying to experience. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to go through worse. Fuck cops. Fuck all of them, because even a ‘good cop’ aka a cop who does the bare minimum (their job) either enables other’s to behave this way, or isn’t even a cop, because they were fired for not letting it slide. ACAB.

Stay safe, everyone, and I’m sorry.

#dumb anecdotes #acab #all cops are bastards #1312 #tw homophobia

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years ago

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Royals Chapter 4 (Tommy x Nikki)

Title: Royals Chapter 4

Summary: Tommy’s hiding a secret from the rest of the band. He hoped it would never come out, but somehow, it did.

Warnings: Maybe just some language for this chapter

AN: Thank you guys for all the feedback!

Several Months Later

Tommy was fast asleep in the bed beside Nikki, wrapped up in a blanket he had brought from home. He had left a lot of things at his dad’s place, a bag of clothes, his drums, and some other odd and end things. David had been a little upset at Tommy’s sudden urge to move out, and as Tommy had left, his dad told him that he would have to tell his mom at some point.

But that was a problem for a future Tommy. Right now, he was happy just laying in bed next to his incredibly hot boyfriend, with their band becoming more popular each day. Nothing could screw this up.

They had kicked their first manager to the curb, but no matter what, he told everyone that he left them, not the other way around. They were hoping that a record deal was in the works, but for now, they just kept playing the scene. They constantly sold out shows on the strip, as well as other venues around Southern California. Things were looking up for Motley Crue. It all had been since Mick suggested the name during a band meeting.

Tommy started to wake up stretching some. He felt arms wrap around him and Nikki pressing up against him, placing sloppy kisses on his neck.

“Babe,” Nikki whispered in his ear.

“Morning Nikki,” Tommy yawned. Nikki kissed down to his shoulder and held him close to him.

“Think we should do something…” Nikki chuckled a little. Tommy smiled, but he had something he needed to tell him first.

“Babe, I gotta tell you something,” Tommy told him. Nikki was about to respond when he heard a loud yell followed by something knocking over cymbals from Tommy’s drum set.

“What the fuck?” Nikki asked, throwing off the blanket and getting out of bed, whatever Tommy was going to tell him far from his mind. Nikki grabbed his sweats and pulled them on. Tommy followed with a pair of basketball shorts. They headed out into the living room to see Vince picking up the cymbal.

“What are you doing?” Tommy asked. Vince just looked at them with a crazy smile on his face. He lived in the smaller room on the other side of the apartment, but many times slept on the couch when he was too lazy to go back to his room. Tommy was sure he was still tripping on something.

“You guys are not going to believe it!” Vince told them. “Sorry T, got a little excited and knocked over the cymbals. But they look fine.”

“What are we not gonna believe?” Nikki asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Can’t tell you until Mick gets here,” Vince told him. “I called him a few minutes ago. He was already up so he should be here soon.” Tommy headed to the kitchen to get a drink of water and look through the mail stack. Overdue bills, junk mail, flyers. Tommy was about to toss it all in the trash when an envelope caught his attention. Addressed to Mr. Thomas Lee Bass-Papadimitriou. That made his heart stop.

“Oh no,” Tommy whispered to himself as he opened the envelope and unfolded the letter inside.

Dearest Thomas,

Your sister informs me that you have moved from your father’s home. I really wish that you would’ve let me know of your change of address. I will be coming to the United States soon and wish to have dinner with you and Athena. I have missed you terribly and looking forward to seeing you. We have some things that we need to discuss.

Until then,

Lots of love

Mom

“Tommy? Watchya got there?” Vince’s voice made Tommy jump. He quickly tore up the letter and dropped it into the trash.

“Junk for whoever rented this place before us,” Tommy told them with a shrug before tearing the envelope up as well. Nikki got a clean looking glass and filled up with some water. He gave Tommy a smirk as he watched him.

“You know, we have to finish something later,” Nikki told him, his eyes dark. Tommy opened his mouth to speak when Mick came strolling in.

“Okay, okay, what’s up?” Mick asked, heading to the couch to sit down.

“I’d like to know that myself,” Nikki and Tommy headed towards Vince and Mick. Vince had that big smile on his face again.

“Okay, sit down,” He told them. Tommy sat on the couch by Mick and Nikki perched himself on the arm. Vince went to the answering machine and pressed play.

“Hey there. My name is Tom Zutaut. I’m a record executive at Elektra Records. I was told this is the number for the band Motley Crue. If you could give me a call back at…”

No one bothered to listen to the rest of the message. They were all jumping up in excitement.

“Is this real?” Nikki asked. “Someone please tell me this isn’t a joke…”

“That’s a fake-sounding name,” Mick pointed out. “But who am I to judge. I changed my name to Mick Mars.”

“We should call him back, right?” Tommy asked, the letter and what he was going to tell Nikki completely leaving his mind.

“Well, yeah!” Vince handed Nikki the number. “You call him.”

“What? Why do I have to?”

“Because you’re the one that brought all us fuckers together,” Vince pointed out. “So you take the lead.” Nikki sighed but called the number. After a few minutes of talking and arranging a meeting between the band and the producer, Nikki hung up.

“Guys,” Nikki gave them all a smile. “I think we got ourselves a record deal.”

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme @marvelismylifffe @mrslogansixxpixx

Motley Crue Tags:@primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic-deacti @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @deacyduck @scarecrowmax @major-tom-is-a-fucking-junkie @anyasthoughts @bandaids-not-groupies @ilovetomkeiferslips @kaitieskidmore1 @useyourillusion @xpoisonousrosesx @slash-me-up @hauntedapricoteggsclam

#royals #Tommy Lee #nikki sixx #tommy lee x nikki sixx #nikki sixx x tommy lee #Motley Crue #fanfiction

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carpecerevisiam · 5 years ago

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Rumrollinsweek: Nov 25th S.H.I.E.L.D

Brock has been back Stateside for just ten days when the first offer comes in; he reads the first few lines—just enough to glean that it’s a training position at Quantico—and then tosses it into the bin.

Training rookie FBI agents? It’s almost insulting.

But that’s only the first of many. Letters, emails, phone calls. They even make an approach in person once. He comes back from the gym late one morning to find a baby-faced suit waiting outside his apartment building. Brock barges him aside and slams the door in the guy’s face before he can even mention which alphabet agency he’s representing.

Brock has spent the last decade and a half shuttling from one war zone to the next at the behest of these shadowy puppeteers, with little to show for his service other than a handful of medals, blood-soaked hands, and a head full of nightmares.

He won’t do it again.

—

SHIELD are smarter than the others. They wait damn near close to a year before they approach him.

They wait until the novelty of being a civilian has worn off and monotony sets in. They wait until his apartment—which had seemed so spacious at the start—feels oppressive and the silence at night becomes stifling.

They wait as his savings dwindle because it’s amazing just how hard it can be to find stable work when your entire employment history is classified, and he’s facing the prospect of being just another homeless veteran on DC’s streets.

The letter, when it arrives, is obnoxiously short and to the point, giving him directions to the Triskelion and a time by which to arrive, and nothing else.

Brock tears it into smaller and smaller pieces as his vision blurs.

He doesn’t want to go, but his rent payment is already overdue.

He doesn’t want to go, but he doesn’t have a choice.

—

Later, he’ll find out that SHIELD exerted pressure on at least three potential employers to make them back off.

—

The Triskelion symbolises everything that Brock thinks is wrong with the world.

It’s a towering monstrosity of gleaming steel and glass, a shining beacon of freedom and democracy—or so Brock has heard it described by people who are still naïve enough to believe in those lies.

He lounges in the atrium people-watching from behind his sunglasses as fresh-faced SHIELD agents hurry back and forth, all of them looking so very earnest as they go about their work winning hearts and minds around the world.

Brock wonders if they have ever cared about hearts and minds picked clean by carrion birds in foreign lands and then shakes his head. Of course they don’t. In the same way that they don’t care about the interrogation cells hidden in the Triskelion’s basement levels, or the enhanced interrogation techniques SHIELD psychologists helped devise, or that the former Secretary of State thought half a million dead Iraqi children was a price worth paying.

Hypocrisy; that’s what the Triskelion symbolises to Brock.

But, well, he’s here, too, isn’t he? So who is he to throw stones?

—

They keep him waiting for thirty-five minutes.

The Deputy Director is in a meeting that’s overrunning but she’ll see him as soon as she can, he’s assured, and Brock smiles and nods and says nothing in response.

He knows the games these people play as well as he knows the back of his own hand.

—

There is a man at the front desk that Brock has been keeping an eye on. He’s spotted at least two other people keeping tabs on him, but Scarface is the key, and Brock has to hand it to him; he’s not bad. He almost—almost—sells the bored, under-trained, under-paid tough-guy security persona.

Almost, but not quite.

He’s too young for the role, for starters. Mid-thirties, Brock reckons. Handsome, too, and in peak physical condition if the way he nicely fills out his uniform is any sign. He pays little attention to the bank of screens in front of him, preferring to watch the people milling around in much the same way Brock would.

If someone were to enter the Triskelion intending to shoot the place up, he knows Scarface would have a bullet between their eyes before they’d even raised their weapon.

Brock drains his third coffee—because fuck it, they’re free—and waits for the right moment.

—

“Hey, pal.”

Scarface looks up sharply, but if he’s at all disconcerted by Brock having caught him off guard, he doesn’t show it. “Help you with something, sir?” he asks, and okay, the bland, world-weary rent-a-cop accent is spot-on.

Brock flashes him his most charming smile. “I’m bored now,” he says.

Scarface frowns, but Brock doesn’t miss the slight quirk of his lips. “Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to go back to your seat.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” Now that he’s closer, Brock revises his age estimate downwards. Scarface can’t be a day over thirty; in fact, he’s probably quite a few under it.

“Sir—”

Brock cuts him off with a sigh. “Look, I know the deal, okay? I know there’s a guy a few floors above us who’s been watching me. He’s about five-eleven, bald, and built like a brick-shithouse, yeah? Just like I know the guy over in the far corner has just been pretending to replace that busted light.”

Scarface blinks. He really does have very nice eyes, Brock thinks idly. “How did you—?”

“Been doing this a lot longer than you, sweetheart, that’s how.” He reaches out to tap Scarface’s earpiece, and the kid doesn’t even try and stop him. “Now, how about you tell them I’m ready for my interview, hmm?”

#rumrollinsweek #brock rumlow #jack rollins #hydra husbands

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calpalirwin · 5 years ago

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According to Plan

A/N: Let’s see how college went for our boy Ash. Only 2 more chapters and an epilogue left guys! Hope you’re caught up!

And away, and away we go!

~~~

Chapter 14

Ashton

September 2016-May 2020

~~~

I fought with myself as my phone pinged, her name flashing across the screen, when she texted me that first week of September after I had left her apartment. Against my better judgement, I opened the message.

It’s Madison. I have news that I think you should hear, but I want to tell you face to face. So if you’re ever in Yale... Um, hope all is well. Bye.

I struggled with texting her back to see what she meant by news or deleting the message and moving on with my life like I had supposedly left her to do. In the end, I kept the message but never messaged her back.

I didn’t delete her number or the message, but I didn’t text her either after I left her apartment that August. I stayed in contact with everyone else, even staying with them when I played at their schools.

When I played Yale, I always went to her apartment building, but I could never bring myself to go up to her door. Just like I could never bring myself to text her back.

Duke itself was great. It felt good to be doing something I had always dreamed of doing. Not that it stopped the nights from dragging on for eternities at a time. Some nights I’d sit in the dark, nursing a beer or two, and flip through the photo album she gave me. Other nights, I’d dig through my drawers for the Yale sweater and cling to it for dear life. Then, there were the nights when I looked at that damn message. The message got me through my worst nights at Duke. I’d stare at it for hours and get a renewed sense of what I was trying to do with my life. Like the night she called me. I broke wide open when my phone rang, her contact flashing across the screen. In our short time together she had never once called me. I didn’t answer for two reasons 1.) the fear that it was a fluke and 2.) the fear that it would break me open more than I already was. I told myself that whatever news she wanted to tell me could wait for two years. I also told myself that I wouldn’t regret not texting her back or answering her call.

Only, she never turned up on my doorstep after two years. I guessed she had decided to chase after a Master’s degree after all. It stung, but I couldn’t hold that against her. I was the one who had ended things so she could be free in Yale. I had no one to blame but myself. So, I just kept going along with my life as best as I knew how.

I graduated from Duke, so with more free time on my hands, I worked more hours at my dad’s shop, now that I was officially hired. I was there that first Saturday after graduation, not wanting to spend the day alone in my apartment.

I spent the morning working on car after car, my mind blank except for the task in front of me. Around lunchtime, my dad finally kicked me out. “No, Ash. You don’t get to hide here,” he said. “Go live your life.”

“This is me living my life,” I told him, stubbornly.

“No, it’s not. You’ve been pretending for a long time. Ever since you left for Duke, you’ve been really good at acting like everything’s fine.”

“That’s because everything is fine. I went to Duke, like I always wanted. I played soccer for them like I always wanted. Now, I’m here, working on cars, like I’ve always wanted.”

“Still not enough, is it?”

I sighed, feeling seconds away from falling apart. “Why isn’t it?” I sighed again.

“Because you need the girl, Ash. So, stop moping and go get her.”

“I don’t even know where she is.”

“Yeah, you do. Go clear your head, and you’ll find her.”

So I drove. With the music up and the windows down, I drove. Occasionally I looked over, swearing she was in the seat next to me, like she used to be. When the growling in my stomach got to be too much to ignore, I drove to the diner.

I ignored the nostalgia that hit me as I opened the door and made my way to the booth. I did a double take as I noticed someone already sitting there. It couldn’t be, could it?

My truck keys nearly slipped out of my hand. I rubbed my eyes and pinched myself, hard, just to be sure this was real. Sure enough, there she was. Her long blonde hair framed her green eyes that were staring out the window, a fry making its way to her mouth. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry. Nearly four years had past seen I’d last seen her and she still looked the same. Time had been kind to her.

I looked down at myself. My fingers were stained with grease. My jumpsuit looked in desperate need of a wash, as did the rest of me. I ran a hand along my jaw and under my chin. Yep, I could do with a shave, too.

I looked over at her again and all those old feelings came rushing back. It was like seeing her for the first time all over again. My memories of her and us flashed in front of me. And this time, I welcomed the flashbacks. I wanted to remember what it was like to be seventeen. Back before life got in the way. I close my eyes and let the memories flood my mind.

I shook my head to clear away that last goodbye and walked over to her. I waved my hand in front of her to get her attention as I slid into the seat across from her.

Her eyes lit up as she scanned my face, and realized that it was really me. “Hey,” she smiled. “You kept your hair short, it looks good that way.” She got up and gave me a quick hug. “You look good, Ash.”

I went up to run my hand through my hair, that I had kept short ever since Prom, then remembered how gross my hands were. “Yeah, decided I was long overdue for a new look.” Then, my mind processed what had just happened. “Wait… did you just? You can hear me?!”

She laughed as she sat down, motioning for me to sit across from her. “I got the implant after my first year at Yale. Figured it was time.”

“You sound great,” I told her, taking a seat. Her voice was less slow, and even more confident than it had been those times she had graced me with her voice. Damn, this was gonna be way harder if she broke my heart now.

“You do too,” she smiled.

We stared at each other for a moment, both of us processing the changes. She finally broke the silence. “I texted you. Called you even. You never came to see me.”

“You never came to Duke,” I countered, half-teasing, half curious to see how she’d respond.

“Yeah, I got a little busy. How was Duke? Did you graduate already?”

“Yeah, last week. So, now I’m working in my dad’s shop full-time.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s good. That’s what I wanted. Are you hungry? Should we order? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, food sounds good.”

We ordered and we swapped stories about Duke and Yale. I told her about how great it had been at Duke, while she told me how her time at Yale had been amazing; both of us refusing to admit to the less than wonderful moments of the last few years.

“Nice tattoo,” I commented, when she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks. Yours is nice, too.”

“I have more,” I said, glancing down at the heart decorating my wrist. “So, what was the news anyway?” I asked, finally getting to the hard stuff. “When you texted and called me. Did you find somebody new?” I swallowed hard, the long wondered about question finally hanging in the air between us.

She played with a straw wrapper. “You could say that…” she said coyly.

“Oh,” I said, swallowing again. “That’s great. I’m glad.” I smiled a half-smile. She had done exactly what I told her to do. There was no one to blame but myself.

“He’s hanging out with Mike right now. Did you want to come meet him?”

“I don’t think…” I protested.

“Oh, c’mon. You’re gonna love him, I promise,” she told me. She smiled again and I knew that I’d let this girl take my heart and stomp all over it if it meant I’d see that smile and hear her voice.

“Lead the way,” I gestured. “Oh, you drive now?” I asked as she walked to her brother’s truck. I had been too stuck in my own head to take notice of the cars when I had pulled in earlier.

She nodded. “I can hear now.”

“So, did Mike get a new truck?”

“No, I have my own car. It’s just in the shop,” she lied.

I shook my head, letting her have the lie. I got in my truck and followed her the few blocks to a house I’d never been to before. “Nice place,” I commented as we walked up to the porch.

“Thanks. It’s no apartment at Duke, but it’s exactly what I need. Rent’s a little steep though, but Mike’s staying with me while him and Crystal figure things out.” she said, opening the door.

“No help from that guy of yours?” I asked, trying not to be smug.

“He’s a little on the young side,” she let out a small laugh as she opened the front door.

A small body came hurtling out of the kitchen, slamming his tiny body into Madison’s legs. “Momma!” the boy screeched.

She picked up the boy and put him on her hip. “Judder-bug!” she greeted, kissing the curly blonde locks.

He put his hands on her cheeks, pulling her face to his. When he did, I caught a glimpse of a pair of gold-flecked hazel eyes I’d only seen in the mirror. I quickly put two and two together and did some math in my head. The boy looked to be about three, and I had left Madison not quite four years ago. Although hazel wasn’t a far cry from green, I knew that the kid had my eyes, not hers. I remembered how she responded when I asked if she had met someone. This had been the news she wanted to tell me, I decided. “Who’s your friend, Momma?” he was whispering.

“A very special friend,” she told him. “Can you say hi?”

He looked at me, then buried his face in his mom’s shoulder.

She smiled at me, apologetically. “He can be a little shy.” She set the boy down, “Go find Uncle Mikey,” she told him. We both watched as the boy disappeared down the hall. “Should we talk?” she asked, sitting on the couch and patting for me to sit next to her.

I collapsed next to her. “Shit, Mads… a kid?!”

“I texted and called,” she told me like that was enough of an answer. Her head came to rest on my shoulder for a second before she thought better of it.

“What did you say his name was?” I asked.

“Jude Thomas Irwin.”

“Irwin” I repeated, closing my eyes. “Irwin as in…?”

“As in, he has his dad’s last name.”

“Okay, so I am his…” I couldn’t say the word.

“Where else would he get curly hair and hazel eyes from?”

“And you didn’t feel the need to tell me this fact at all during the last four years?” The shock subsided into anger. How could she keep this from me?

“I tried,” she defended. “I texted and called you. You never responded.”

“And what would you have done if I had?”

“Told you to stay in Duke. That I had everything under control, and that it wasn’t your problem.”

“Not my problem?! Mads, you hid the fact that I have a son! I think that makes it my problem, don’t you? God, you know how I feel about this! My biological dad walked out on my mom and me!”

“Look, I’m sorry if you’re mad. But, I know you. You wouldn’t have stayed in Duke if you had known.”

“So, you lied so I would go to Duke?” My words were harsh. Who was she to decide something like that without talking to me about it?

“Technically, I didn’t lie.”

“I have a kid, Mads!”

“I know… Look, I did what I thought was best for us. You left me so you could go to Duke. I wasn’t going to stand in your way.”

I rubbed my eyes and let out a small scream of frustration. “Madison, that wasn’t your decision to make,” I said, fighting to keep my voice level and my words calm. “Do you know what you’ve done? Whatever your intentions, you kept my son from me! You know what being a dad means to me! How could you?”

“Not my decision to make?! You wouldn’t answer the phone, Ashton! Bottom line, you weren’t there. What was I supposed to do?”

“I wasn’t there? Madison, I didn’t know! You didn’t tell me!”

“I tried, Ashton!”

“You should’ve tried harder! You think I wouldn’t have been there if you had told me?”

“I know you would’ve been! And that wasn’t okay with me!”

“Why? What justification do you have for keeping him from me?” I asked, the fight leaving me in my need to know why.

“Okay,” she said, her voice becoming calm like mine. “You had just left, and I don’t hold that against you, I don’t. Then, I was pregnant, and I didn’t know how to tell you. This wasn’t the kind of news you could send through a text. So, I figured I’d reach out to let you know I had news and let you make the decision from there. But all I got was silence from you- both times. Which I don’t hold against you, either. I personally think it was for the best. And he’s always known who you are. I was never going to keep him from you. You hide it well, but I know how much pain you’re in because Jeff is only your stepdad, and that you want to be better than your biological father was to you. I was always going to let you be a dad to Jude. I just needed you to finish Duke first. I didn’t want you to regret not going. I’m sorry. Okay? I am so fucking sorry.”

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “God, Mads… What about the possibility of me regretting not being there for you two?”

“You don’t have to forgive me. I only ask that you understand why I did what I did, and don’t let it spoil any relationship you might have with him.”

I kept my eyes closed. I couldn’t blame her for what she had done. She was right, there was no way I would have stayed at Duke if I had known. Because of her lie- or omittance- I had been able to go to Duke and play soccer like I always wanted. I let out a sigh and opened my eyes to look at her. “How old is he?”

“He’s 2. He’ll be 3 in a few weeks. I’m having a birthday party for him. It’s a small thing, but you’re more than welcome to come.”

I nodded. Of course I was going to his birthday. I wasn’t going to miss a single day of his life. “Okay,” I said.

“Okay what?” she asked.

“It’ll take me time to stop being angry. But, I can understand why you did what you did. I can almost forgive you for it. And, I want a relationship with him. Whatever you’re comfortable with at first, but I eventually want some sort of custody. I’m going to be his dad. I’m not missing anymore of his life.”

She nodded. “Of course, Ash. Whatever you want is more than fine with me. Do you want to go meet him?”

“Yeah.”

She led us into the backyard where Mike was standing in front of a small goal. “Kick it!” he was encouraging Jude, who stood a few feet away, with a small soccer ball at his feet. The toddler kicked the ball with his foot, sending the ball skidding towards Mike, who stepped aside to let the ball fall into the goal. “Goal! Jude Irwin with the winning goal! Syracuse wins!” Mike cheered.

“Goal! Go Yrcus!” Jude cheered, throwing his arms up and screaming. “Momma, I made a goal!” he continued to cheer, running up to Madison.

“Good job, Judder-bug! High five!” she said, holding out her hand.

He slapped his small hand against Madison’s. “Yrcus wins!”

She laughed. “Syracuse,” she said slowly, teaching him. “Who did Syracuse beat this time?” she asked Mike.

“Uh… who did we play, Judester?”

“Uke!” Jude told his uncle.

“Duke?” Madison asked. “Aw, the only way Syracuse will ever beat Duke is in this backyard,” she teased her brother.

I laughed. Every game we had played against Syracuse, we had won. But, how did she know that? “Wait, how did you know that?”

“I might have gone to a game… or four…” she admitted.

“Momma loves Uke!” Jude ratted her out. “Huh, Momma?”

“Oh, does she?” I asked him.

“Mhm!” he nodded like a bobblehead. “Dada goes to Uke.”

“He does?”

“Mhm! We watch him play occer.”

“You,” Madison said, scooping up Jude who let out a shrill giggle- an exact copy of my own, I noted with a smile- “are a bad secret keeper!” She flipped him upside down before she flipped him upright, holding him on her hip. God, she looked amazing as a mom.

“You watched my games?” I asked her, feeling all those old feelings come rushing back.

“I might have…” she admitted with a coy smile. “Hey, Judder-bug, did you know that Ash went to Duke?” she asked, turning the direction of the conversation.

His hazel eyes went wide. “You know Dada?!”

Madison whispered something in his ear and his entire face split into a grin. He reached out for me.

I took him in my arms and immediately felt both overjoyed and overwhelmed. “Momma misses you,” he told me.

“I’ve missed her, too,” I told him.

“And, that’s my cue to go,” Mike said, excusing himself. “I’ll probably just crash at Crystal’s, Mads.”

“Okay, bye,” she told her brother.

“Bye, Judester,” he said, kissing Jude’s head. “Good to see ya, Ash.”

“Good to see ya too, man.”

Mike disappeared inside, leaving the three of us alone. “Did you have your nap?” Madison asked her son.

He shook his head, “Nope! No nap!”

“Yes, nap,” she said, going in the house.

I followed, Jude still clinging to my neck. “What about Dada?” he asked.

“Uh…” I stumbled, not knowing what to say.

“He’ll be here when you wake up,” she promised before looking at me. “Right?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. I set Jude down, who immediately clung to my leg and wailed. “No!” he scream-cried.

“It’s ok-” I started to tell him, but Madison had already beat me to it.

She crouched down next to him and turned his face towards hers. “Look at me,” she coaxed, softly. “Jude Thomas, look at me. Thank you. I need you to stop. You need a nap. Daddy will be here when you wake up, okay?” As she spoke, Jude slowly stopped wailing. “Now, do you want me to tuck you in?”

He sniffed and nodded, grabbing her hand.

“You’re gonna need to teach me that,” I said, staring at her amazed as she put Jude down and closed his door. How was I mad at her a half hour ago only to find myself falling for her all over again?

She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“For you, maybe.”

She smiled. “Um, he’ll be out for at least 2 hours. So, if you had something… You don’t have to stay.”

I looked down at myself. “Uh, yeah, actually. I should clean up. What about…”

“Oh, you can come over whenever you want. I’m not… I just thought that… Sorry.”

“Thought what? That I only want to spend time with him?”

“Maybe…?”

“I’ll come back after I get cleaned up, okay? 45 minutes, tops.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“See you in a bit,” I told her, heading for the door.

I drove to my apartment to shower and change, thinking the whole time about the time I had just spent with Madison. Four years of radio silence and a hidden secret- two, if you included the Cochlear implant- didn’t stop those old feelings I had for her from resurfacing. I drove back to her house, deciding that a relationship with Jude wasn’t enough; I needed one with her too. One that wasn’t strictly a co-parenting one. I needed her like I needed her when we were seventeen and in love; like when we were eighteen and I was too stubborn and hurt to tough out the distance.

I knocked on her door, flowers in one hand, a carton of ice cream in the other. She opened the door and stared at me for a minute, a look in her eye I’d only ever seen whenever we used to have sex. “C’mon in,” she recovered. “Jude’s still asleep.”

“These are for you,” I said, handing her the flowers. “Ice cream’s for later.”

She breathed in the flowers. “Peonies, my favorite. Thank you.”

“Yeah, you’re the only girl who didn’t like roses,” I remembered fondly, following her into the kitchen.

“Always reminded me of fun-”

“Funerals,” I cut her off. “I remember.”

She smiled at me, grabbing a small vase to put the flowers in. “You can put the ice cream in the freezer,” she said, nodding in its direction. “Do you want something to drink?”

I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks.”

We sat in the living room, unsure of what to say. “It’s been hard,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

“What has?”

“Everything since high school graduation,” she half laughed. “Being away from you was hard. Watching you leave every other weekend was harder. Balancing school, a job, and a baby was hard. Missing you was the hardest, though.”

“But, you did it,” I told her, feeling proud for her. She had done it all, just like she planned, with a baby on her hip.

“I did it,” she smiled in agreement. “How did you react when I called you? Not the text. The phone call.”

I let out my breath in a slow huff. “That one tore me up for a bit because you’ve never called me. Talking always made you tired.”

“It tore me up, too. But I needed to try to contact you again. And I needed to know what you sounded like.”

“Disappointed?”

“No, not at all,” she laughed. “I almost came to Duke. After my Bachelor’s.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“What was I gonna do? Show up on your door with a suitcase and a baby and say ‘Honey we’re home’ and give you a heart attack?”

We both laughed at the absurdity of it all. “It was hard,” she said again. “And I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“How’d you react. I didn’t want you to leave Duke. And then I was scared that you wouldn’t want us. That I blew it by not telling you sooner. That you had found someone else and there wasn’t any room for an ex and a baby in your new life.”

“There was never anyone else. Mads, I didn’t leave for my benefit. I left for yours.”

“Well that was stupid, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I’m still waiting to see how things play out.”

#according to plan #chapter 14 #ashton irwin #5sos #galcal irwin #anybody else crying or is that just me?

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