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scrumpledorph-writes · 9 months ago

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Koben’s Responsibility (Learning To Share It)

I have to get her back. That’s exactly what he knows I’m going to do, but that doesn’t mean I have any other option. I’m the reason this happened to her. The odds are stacked against me, but Blackmire’s the one doing the counting – and he bribed his way through the academy; so I have a chance. I hope she’s alright.

He probably thinks I’ve gone soft. Tried to put the life behind me like so many deserters do. He’s expecting a haggard, rusty old washout to get gunned down by a single bodyguard detachment – eight at the most if I had to guess. Nothing I can’t handle. Why’d he have to bring Brayli into this?

If he had the intel to find where she lived, he must have been able to track me down too. He said he was working with Huxley, so he must have had the opportunity. It must be about hurting me. It’s not enough for him to kill me, or take me in, he’s trying to make me suffer first. I’ll repay him tenfold.

How should I do it? He’s definitely earned more than a blaster bolt at this point. Knife; gut him like a piece of game? Still too professional. Need to use my hands. Beat that smug face of his inside out? Closer, getting there. He’ll probably find a way to take the fun out of it if I let him talk. I’m getting ahead of myself.

This is going to be a delicate operation. Me getting so angry I don’t think this through is exactly what he’ll be banking on. Have to keep a cool head, hard as it is. I can’t assume he’s still incompetent, it’s been over a decade. Not enough information to form a proper plan from, so I’ll need to do reconnaissance first.

I’ll need equipment for that. Specialized equipment; mine works well for general purposes, but considering he has an entrenched position with advanced notice – a long range blaster at the very least so I can pick a few off before they see me. Should probably get some thicker thermal weave for the assault, and something to help my armour not stick out so much against the desert backdrop. Vranki can get it for me.

Forgot I’ve never been here in my civilian clothes, good thing the doorman recognized my voice. She must’ve sent word to the guards, they’re not even giving me a second glance. Not sure if she’s arrogant or prudent for making the path to her office a straight line, but right now I certainly appreciate it. Her operation might be small, and she doesn’t take this seriously enough to last, but right now all I need are connections – and nowhere fosters those better than a whorehouse.

‘Trooper! So nice to see you again, you’ve been the talk of the underworld!’ How could I forget? Being with Brayli made it feel so distant, but just a few days ago I was involved in the death of a major crime boss. Talk must have rippled out from that event in waves strong enough to drown out every other topic for miles – maybe even across the system.

‘I don’t have time to talk about that right now Vranki I-’ ‘No, we’re at the beginning of a beautiful working relationship, so I need to at least address the Rancor in the room.’ She’s never cut me off before, but fine. She must know I’m desperate right now, and she’s just holding it over me.

‘I run a small time operation, but not so small I haven’t been informed of your name and bounty. You’ve racked up a very fat reward on your head, and I asked my men how many would be interested in cashing in.’ This was a mistake. Even if I need help, how could I be so stupid? I just walked into the same trap as before, and there weren’t even credits to bait it this time. At least it’s just us in here – and I brought my sidearm. If she makes a move, I’m fast enough to take her down.

‘I’m currently understaffed, because I fired everyone who said they thought it was a good idea.’ I know she has a bit of a dramatic streak, but she really could’ve led with that. ‘You’re worth far more to me than a lump sum hundred thousand credits, Trooper – and I don’t need people in my operation who aren’t capable of seeing that. Do you still want me to call you that, by the way? Your name rolls off the tongue better, if you don’t mind me saying.’ That’s a lot more pragmatic than I was expecting from her. Maybe she does have what it takes to make it in this business.

‘Thank you. I guess if my secret’s out, you might as well drop the code name. It’s started to chafe lately anyway.’ A shocking relief, but in hindsight it makes sense. I always figured she just did it as a negotiation tactic, but she’s praised my work every time we’ve interacted. A tight, professional smile. A long way from Brayli’s, but at least more genuine than Huxley’s.

‘Now then, what can I help you with, Koben?’ ‘The Empire took my girlfriend hostage. I need-’ ‘The Empire? You’re completely sure, it’s not some gang doing a frame up to cover their tracks?’ Just saying the words flipped a switch in her, her body language, expression – even intonation changed. She’s never leaned forward over her desk while talking to me before. Finally something she takes seriously.

‘I’m sure. One of my old officers left me a message taunting me after he did it. I need a long range blaster, stealth suit, and reinforced padding. I can pay up to seventy thousand credits, and I need them as soon as possible.’ Anton didn’t mention a time frame, but knowing him; he’ll hold onto Brayli as long as it takes for me to show up.

‘What exactly is it that you’re planning to do with all this advanced equipment?’ No use keeping it from her at this point. ‘I’m going to assault his ship by myself, as soon as I have them.’ Nobody else I can ask to do this. It’s my past, my fight, my responsibility.

‘Koben, dear, I know this must make me sound like an absolute bleeding heart right now, but I can’t let you go through with that.’ She’s right about one of those things at least. ‘I’m going to rescue her, and if you’re not willing to sell me the equipment then I’ll make do without it.’ This really isn’t like her at all. I’d figured she’d have been happy to charge me as much for this equipment as she could manage to say it cost her with a straight face.

It doesn’t matter. I suppose I still have that one little slimeball’s number. It’d take a while, but maybe I could sift through his inventory for a workable assassin blaster if nothing else. ‘I can’t get you that gear, but I’m willing to help in whatever way I can. I just told you that you’re no good to me dead, and more than that – I know what happens if The Empire is allowed to get their foot in the door without being beaten back.’

So this is motivated by self interest. Fine then, I can let her take on the consequences if she refuses not to – she has something to gain after all. I suppose she’s not entirely wrong either, this is a daunting task. ‘Fine. What way do you think you can help? I’ve never counted more than a dozen gun hands in here, and I doubt that one you keep out front could hit a star destroyer at point blank.’

‘Well that’s a rather sharp dressing down – but I suppose it is accurate. That being said, if it is Stormtroopers we’re dealing with, then I happen to know one of their biggest weaknesses.’ I can’t imagine what she could know about them that I don’t already. I know the specs of their blasters, what points of their armour are weak, and their average psychological profile. ‘What would that be?’

‘Women.’ Figures. Though, now that she says it; actually very true. ‘You’re very good at what you do – by underworld standards. We’re not operating on underworld standards right now though: we’re talking about the Imperial military. You think like a hammer, and all you see are nails. What you need to get this done is a little subterfuge.’

She’s right, as much as I hate to admit it. These aren’t just gangsters, I can’t expect to have a single chance advantage. No faulty blasters, inattention, or flinching in the face of fear to exploit. Every Trooper I don’t have to deal with improves my odds dramatically.

‘So, what, you’re going to distract them with prostitutes? That sounds dangerous for the women.’ I’d hate to see them get hurt on account of a fight they’re not even part of. I don’t know how I’d even be able to make it up to them if it happened.

‘I’ll put out a volunteer call, won’t force anybody. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of eager candidates, The Empire has a tendency of hurting people.’ Guess I can’t argue there. ‘I know how much they like to stand around and look tough; I’ll have the girls wander off with whoever’s guarding the doors. That fabric under your plates isn’t puncture proof, is it?’ This is coming together a lot better than I was expecting. Quick shake of the head.

‘I figured, but I just wanted to be sure. Anyway, once that’s done, then you can slip inside and get to work. How’s that sound?’ Good. Really good, breaching the ship without setting off alarms is an increase to my success chances dramatically higher than just taking out two Troopers. Though, I do have to wonder how she has such an accurate picture of how we operate.

‘How do you know so much about how Imperial troops function? I’ve thought once or twice now that you used to be an officer, but you seem too casual for that to be the case.’ It would explain a rigour for administration, but the joviality she carries is far in excess of what would be left after a military career, to say nothing of the crackdown on her for going rogue.

‘You’re half right. My husband used to be the colonial administrator on this planet, replacing a man who was gunned down by gangsters in his own bed. He died in a tragic speeder explosion when his was sabotaged after a visit to the bar, and was succeeded by a man who didn’t even reach the colonial office before he was kidnapped and buried alive up to his neck out on the dunes – or so I’ve heard.’

There does seem to be an exceptionally entrenched criminal element around here, I can’t say I’m surprised to hear they resisted Imperial occupation efforts. I picked this planet precisely because it was a remote, worthless dustball; I can’t imagine they devoted too many resources to trying to bring it under control when there were more important fights to dedicate them to. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Oh don’t be, that all wrapped up a good seven years ago, and it wasn’t the happiest marriage the galaxy’s ever seen.’ I can imagine her being a lot to live with. ‘The point is, after they cut their losses with the third one – I learned a very important lesson: The Empire isn’t welcome around here. So I faked my death – really easy when nobody’s checking up on you – and decided to start playing by the local rules.’

I have to give her credit, that’s a lot more shrewd than I thought she was capable of. Maybe she’s a good long term bet after all. ‘So not only are you familiar, you have a lot of reason to keep The Empire off world?’ She may not technically have ever been an officer herself, but no doubt she’d get at least a capital penalty for everything she’s done if they ever caught her.

‘You got it. That’s without even getting into all the other factors: keeping you from martyring yourself for the sake of your deathwish, what it would do to my credibility for my best enforcer’s girl to get kidnapped on my turf without me responding, and the fact that pretty much every organized criminal on the planet will appreciate me being the one who gave them the boot this time.’ Suppose I can’t argue with that.

She’s right, I was being stupid trying to do this myself. It doesn’t matter that it’s my fault, Brayli’s the one who’s going to suffer. I need to pull out all the stops for this – call in every favour I have. That’s not many, but every one is better than nothing. ‘Thanks. When can I expect you to be ready? I have a couple more calls to make.’

‘Well, look at you; little enterprising underworlder – building up a contact network. Shouldn’t be longer than an hour to get the girls ready, you go do your thing.’ She chafes me a little around the edges sometimes, but this really does mean a lot to me – even if it means less to her. I’m even smiling at her, but now it’s time for some fresh air.

III

It’s getting late, but Jaxon doesn’t strike me as someone who’s in bed early. ‘Oh, hey Koben! Nice to see you, what’s up?’ I can talk while I head home, gonna need the whole armoury for this. ‘Jaxon, I’m sorry I don’t have time for pleasantries, but Brayli’s been kidnapped – by The Empire. I need your help to get her back.’ This is a big ask considering what he already gave up for me. If it were anything less I wouldn’t ask him to do it – he killed his own father for me. But Brayli’s worth it.

‘Holy shit – Koben...Yeah, whatever you need. I’ve got a couple small starfighters, I can send a few dozen men, and feel free to borrow whatever gear you need.’ Just like that. He’s a good man. Would it be vain to think he gets some of it from me? I’m sure I helped a little, at least.

‘This is going to be a small scale operation. I tentatively have infiltration covered, but I could use someone to watch my back once I’m inside.’ Want to avoid a big shootout if possible; more blasters means more stray shots – and a higher chance that Brayli gets caught in the crossfire.

‘What – you mean, like, me? Koben, I’d be honoured! Yeah, I’ll get my gear and come right over. Do you mind if I record this? The forum guys would go insane if they saw me fighting with you!’ There’s no other trigger man I trust. For that, he can do whatever he wants. Kind of figured he’d be too busy for that dumb thing now that he’s a crime boss though.

‘Yeah, go ahead. And...thank you. Really, it means a lot. I know you’ve already done a ton for me – and I have no idea how I’ll ever repay you.’ If I spent the rest of my life until I died of old age fulfilling kill orders to pay him and Vranki back for this it’d be worth it. Just as long as Brayli’s safe.

‘Don’t worry about it, that’s what friends are for.’

#my oc #oc #star wars #writing #koben tarani

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 || dark!Bucky Barnes & dark!Steve Rogers x reader

summary: a little fresh air never hurt anyone, right?

word count: 10.3k (yes, OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS OF FILTH what is wrong with me)

warnings: noncon smut (incl. anal, oral m and f receiving, dp, and spitroasting), bondage/restraint (and a gag), some mild violence, lots of slapping, pussy spanking, forced orgasms, degradation/derogatory language, kinda kidnapping, a touch of stockholm syndrome?, very brief breeding kink, period-typical sexism (this is set in the late 60s but you wouldn't really be able to tell aside from that and the lack of technology)

a/n: the song that plays on the radio, and the song that just so happens to be the title of the fic, is by john lee hooker in case anyone wants the proverbial vibes

You needed a chance to clear your head every once in a while, that's what camping in the woods was for. It was the perfect time of year for it, too; the leaves were changing, the woodland animals were beginning to prepare for hibernation, and the weather was almost warm with a refreshing breeze that promised to bring the winter chill soon enough.

It was far from your first time in these woods, you knew the drive like the back of your hand by now, just as well as you knew how to hike down to the best places to set up camp.

You set down your pack and took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. No sounds except for the wind in the trees, the trickle of the creek, and your own thoughts which you found pleasantly blank. You'd chosen a spot by the creek, where you could spearfish on evenings that you felt especially adventurous, with a nice dirt patch perfect for a fire. The most dangerous thing about camping in the fall was that the dry leaves could catch flame so easily, so one of the key stages of setting up camp was raking away any foliage from your firepit, lest it become unintentional kindling.

The next order of business was finding a few dozen smooth stones to surround the fire, along with some logs and sticks to burn.

A knife and flint was just enough to speed up your firebuilding so that you had something solid going by nightfall, shedding your jacket to better feel the warmth as the flames grew and the sun set.

Sure, the woods could feel a little… creepy, at night, for lack of a better word, but it was more tranquil than anything. Most of the wildlife that was so active during the day stilled and silenced, bar the occasional owl’s hoot, so the loudest sounds were the crackling of your fire and the ever-present trickle of the creek. You heated your kettle for a cup of chamomile tea, something to help you get to sleep on the admittedly uncomfortable sleeping bag in your canvas tent.

The mug warmed your fingers as you filled and held it, and the steam warmed your face as you took a sip; but the contents warmed your chest, and your soul, as you contemplated the flavors; is it possible that tea tastes better when enjoyed in the quiet woods, mid-autumn?

You were already yawning by the time the mug was finished, so you set it aside and crawled into your tent, shedding the excessive layers and slipping between the fluffy down-stuffed layers of your bedroll. It was chilly at first but you knew your body heat would make it toasty all too soon, so you ignored the way you shivered as you fluffed your pillow and laid it under your head.

It was dark with only the fading light of your fire seeping in through the thick-weave canvas; and it was quiet, being the middle of the forest and all. One sound you didn’t expect were distant sirens, barely audible, which made you wonder if something had happened, but you couldn't know what so you didn't pay it much mind as you drifted to sleep.

The next morning came early, of course; as early as the sun rose, warm sunlight flooding through the canvas of your tent.

You enjoyed staying in the bed for a while, not so much because it was very comfortable (it wasn’t) but just because you wanted to relish having no need to get up yet. No job, no cleaning, no chores… though you were pretty hungry so that inspired you to get up and see about breakfast.

Slipping on a few more layers to protect yourself from the morning breeze, you opened your tent and stepped out into the woods, finding your fire had been reduced to a pile of embers meaning that you would need to find more wood to get it going for breakfast-cooking purposes. And that’s what you were about to do when you heard a snapping of twigs echo through the woods, making you glance up to the source of the noise.

Your back straightened instantly at the sight of two men, one with short blonde hair and the other’s dark and nearly to his shoulders, walking down the hill nearby just across the creek. They were still pretty distant, and yet they were much too close for comfort; close enough to see that these were not men one would want to encounter while alone in the woods.

They had new clothes— baggy and loose, almost certainly stolen— but it wasn’t enough to hide where they must’ve come from. They might as well have still been in jumpsuits with numbers on their chests.

The prison, just over five miles away. Had they really hiked this far? You kicked yourself now for ignoring the sirens last night.

You froze as they turned and caught your gaze, the three of you locked in a stare for a brief moment before one of them took a step forward: that was all the cause you needed to run like hell, turning on your heel and starting so fast you nearly slipped on the leaves beneath you. You heard them call out, chasing after you, but you focused on staring ahead and trying to remember the path back home, or at least to the road where someone might drive by to help you.

A root nearly caught your foot but you kept running, hating that you could hear them gaining on you since it didn’t actually seem to help you run any faster. You looked back and saw them much too close for comfort, but when you looked back ahead it was too late to avoid the tree right in front of you; you swerved but it still made you slip and almost fall.

But you didn’t fall. Someone caught you, and grabbed you, and pulled you into his oppressive form.

His arms held you painfully tight as his hand covered your mouth. "Gotcha," the man growled against your ear, licking the shell of it as you struggled against his grip.

Everything everyone had told you about why a lady shouldn’t camp alone in the woods suddenly flashed in your mind, your eyes squinting shut as you wished you had listened. All you could do now was kick wildly, swinging your legs in the air which didn't even do anything.

"Pretty little thing, aren't ya?” he purred as you saw the second man come into view— the blonde one, so you knew it was the one with long, dark hair that must’ve been holding you, giving you such a twisted compliment. “Just beggin' to be fucked right."

"Don't look so scared, sweetheart, we're not gonna hurt you…” the blonde man explained, “just play nice and we will too."

"Speak for yourself, Rogers," the man holding you snarled. "Been a long time since I got to feel a pussy, I wanna tear this little bitch up."

You sobbed and writhed as the one apparently called Rogers hushed you soothingly, trying to calm you. "Hey, just do what we say and it won't hurt alright? Just take it easy."

He stepped closer, reaching out towards you while you grunted and whined with every kick, smiling in a way that would’ve been soothing in nearly any other situation. He motioned to his partner who slowly lowered his hand from your mouth, and though your instinct was to scream you just heard yourself panting and whimpering instead.

“Did you hear me? We’re not gonna hurt you. We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet… I’m Steve, and this here is my cellmate— uh, friend— Barnes.”

“But you can call me Bucky, dollface,” the man behind you added with a little smile that you could hear and feel with him pressing up so close to your face.

“See, he and I just came from an awful, terrible place—”

“I know where you came from,” you cut him off with a snarl. “You’re criminals! You’re scum!”

Bucky just laughed and held you tighter until your arms started to ache from struggling against him.

“Hey now, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve corrected firmly— not angry, but stern. “I was framed, I served seven years for something I didn’t do. You’re innocent, too, right Barnes?”

“No,” he instantly answered, making Steve look disappointed. “Oh, uh, sure. Yeah, I was framed. Real sob story,” he suddenly decided, not sounding like he was trying that hard to convince you.

“Point is, we were all alone for a long, long time, and we thought maybe you’d wanna be nice and take care of us, huh?” Steve offered.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“That’s sort of the idea,” Bucky whispered playfully.

“Let me go,” you demanded as Steve’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, anger finally coming out when he suddenly grabbed your chin and held your face to look up at him.

“Let me make one thing very fucking clear,” he explained, nearly whispering so you were forced to stay still and quiet to hear him. “You don’t get to pick what you want. But you get to pick if you’re gonna make this easy, or difficult.”

You spat in his face; he slapped you for that, so hard that your ears rang for a moment while he grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Difficult it is,” he announced with ill-restrained loathing, coming even closer as Bucky covered your mouth again to muffle your screams of protest. “Buck, I’m goin’ first.”

“Fuck you, pal, I was in longer and I saw her first,” Bucky replied frustratedly. “I’m not gonna take long anyway, you can go after me.”

“I just got spit in my face!” Steve reminded him. “And the breakout was my idea!”

“Your idea?!” Bucky repeated incredulously. “What, you think you’re the first guy to think ‘hey, what if we just left prison?’ because trust me, if it wasn’t for my screwdriver—”

Their argument caused Bucky’s focus to slip, that must have been why the hand on your mouth loosened and you could speak again.

"You won't get away with this, my father's a sheriff!" you yelped, interrupting their negotiation.

They both laughed darkly and you instantly regretted saying it.

"Oh, sweetheart, your old man's a cop? That's too bad,” Steve sighed. “You know what they say: sins of the father…"

"Fuck the daughter,” Bucky finished with a cold, hollow laugh as he suddenly bit down on your ear making you wince and shudder, tears streaming down your cheeks already.

He tossed you down and pinned you to the ground, his strong, heavy body on top of yours knocking the wind out of you as he began to tear at your clothes and, annoyingly, not seeming to find them much trouble at all. You whimpered when you felt your pants torn down your legs, hating how exposed and vulnerable you felt, hating the undeniable fact that you couldn’t stop this.

You tried to get up when he reached down to open his belt and jeans, but Steve’s boot came down on your shoulder and held you still again. Bucky was rushed and brutal as he pushed his pants down and pressed his cock against your ass, guiding it between your legs as you hissed and tried not to think about what was about to happen.

He pulled back briefly to spit on your hole, spreading the forced wetness with the head of his cock before suddenly pushing into you as you gasped and choked on a sob.

"Oh, that's it baby,” he groaned, “scream if you want, nobody can hear you but us."

Already he was thrusting with wild abandon, his hips slapping into your ass as his hot breath came down against your ear and neck, his face pressing yours into the cold ground.

"Fuuuuuck,” he moaned lowly, “so tight, Jesus Christ… fuckin' missed this, went almost ten years without burying my cock in a wet little cunt like this. Shit, it's even better than I remember."

You just cried and bit down on nothing, pain making violent shivers run up your spine as the width of him split you open, pushing deeper than you’d known anything could go.

Each thrust seemed somehow rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you further past your limits, making your toes curl inside your boots. He was unabashedly using your body, treating you with less care than some men might a blow-up doll, moaning loudly as he split you open with every moment.

So why did it almost begin to feel good, now that the worst of the pain had faded? Why was the ridge of his cock brushing over your g-spot just right each time he moved?

He pinned more of his weight on you as he changed his angle slightly, enough to add just that much more brutality to every stroke, the loud slapping of skin echoing through the desolate trees. You could tell he wasn’t lying about how long he’d been celibate in prison, because he fucked you with every ounce of pent-up frustration, hissing through his teeth and holding you tight enough to bruise.

Everything he did, he did enough to bruise.

“Yeah, take it, bitch,” he moaned when you made a particularly pained noise.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna take long,” Steve remembered, staring down at the two of you from where he was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.

“I’m almost done, you waited this long you can wait five more minutes,” Bucky dismissed, voice a little strained as he kept fucking you.

“Just stop and give me a turn and then you can get back to it,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, no fuckin’ way,” Bucky laughed, “feels way too good to stop. Trust me, Stevie, this pussy’s worth the wait.”

“Get her on her knees then,” Steve instructed as he came closer to you and kneeled in front of your face; Bucky manhandled your hips into place while Steve pulled your hair until you yelped and brought your head up. “I wanna fuck this pretty little throat.”

He cut off your protests with another hard slap to your cheek, tugging your hair again as you struggled to hold yourself up on shaking arms.

“Gonna teach this mouthy bitch a lesson,” he explained as he hit you again before using one hand to open his belt and jeans. “You know what’s gonna happen if you try to bite me, right? I’ll just knock you out and fuck your throat anyways. So you’d better make it good if you wanna breathe.”

You tried your best to nod with his fist tugging your hair, gasping slightly when he pulled his cock out and stroked it right in front of your face.

“Come on, baby, open up— this is the most you’ve kept your mouth shut all day,” he laughed, tapping the swollen head of his cock on your lips until you finally opened them. The flavor of his skin on your tongue made your lips curl in disgust but he held your jaw and pushed deeper, quickly hitting the back of your throat. “Fuck, so warm… come on, suck it, make it good for me.”

“She’s gettin’ wet,” Bucky informed Steve with a chuckle. “She likes it— don’t you, little whore?” he prompted as he slapped your ass suddenly, making you cry out around Steve’s length. “You like choking on a cock like you deserve?”

You made some sort of gurgling sound, and apparently they took it as a ‘yes.’

"Aw yeah, fuck, gonna fill up this little cunt,” Bucky promised. Funny thing is, you weren't sure if "this little cunt" meant your hole, or you.

“You’d better not, m’supposed to go after you,” Steve reminded him.

“Fuck, I dunno if I have the heart to pull out,” Bucky admitted with a laugh, slapping you on the ass to make your walls suddenly clench around him. “I know a sweet body like this just needs to be bred.”

Your sob was louder around where Steve’s girth stretched your lips, making Bucky laugh darkly.

"Oh shit honey, what would Daddy Sherriff say if he found out you got knocked up by a couple'a criminals, huh? By murderers?"

Steve pulled his cock out just enough to let you sob weakly before shoving back in and penetrating your throat.

"Yeah, you like it don't you?” Bucky continued to taunt you. “You like being bred by some strangers who caught you in the woods… dirty bitch."

Steve's head fell back as he started to thrust into your mouth faster and harder, the base of his cock flexing against your tongue. You assumed it was a sign that he was close and it made you hopeful that this would be over soon, but he suddenly pulled out with an exhausted laugh.

"Oh no you don't," he breathed, "not gonna come yet, still need to feel that tight little pussy of yours… if Bucky would hurry the fuck up."

"Fuck, I'm close, I'm close," Bucky rasped. "Shit, babydoll, this wet cunt is gonna make me come, aren't you so proud?"

Steve held your mouth open and rubbed his cock on your tongue, occasionally shoving two fingers in with it which were salty with his sweat.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," Bucky hissed, "oh god, fuck, I'm—!"

He pulled out suddenly, rubbing his cock against your clit as his seed shot onto the ground beneath you. You sighed with relief although you hated the way your body was actually disappointed, craving more and clenching around nothing in protest.

Bucky was hardly even finished when Steve reached under your arms to pull you up and flip you onto your back, groaning as he settled between your legs and rubbed his cock over your folds. He didn't waste any time pushing into you, and apparently being fucked by Bucky wasn't enough to warm you up for Steve because you hissed at the sting as he filled you.

"Fuck," Steve mumbled as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down beside your head. Already he had begun to pull back only to spear into you again, reaching deeper inside you than Bucky had until you were gasping and choking on nothing.

Bucky stood up and stepped back, pulling his jeans up as he watched you two on the ground.

"You got any cigarettes back at camp, sweetheart?" Bucky asked you, and it was hard to focus on his question but you shook your head. "Damn," he breathed, pondering for a moment before coming up with his next question. "You got any candy bars?"

"Do you mind?" Steve hissed, still thrusting into you— a bit slower than Bucky but not exactly more gentle. "We're kind of busy here."

"No, I don't particularly mind," Bucky smirked.

"Can't you just entertain yourself for a few minutes while I finish this?"

"Why should I entertain myself when I've got this pretty little thing to entertain me?" Bucky smirked, kneeling down beside you as Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Wanna help me out here, dollface? I'm still hard…"

He freed one hand from Steve's grip and brought it up to the front of his jeans so you could feel the hard bulge there. He opened them for you, reaching in and pulling his hard cock out to wrap your hand around it.

Feeling the thickness of it in your palm now, you couldn't imagine how it ever fit inside you.

"Yeah, that's it, I'll teach you how to stroke it right…" he groaned. "You know how many times I had to do this to myself, just imagining claiming a little slut like you? Your hands are so much softer, sweetheart…"

His hand tightened around yours and guided every movement, which was good because you had no chance of focusing on anything while Steve was slamming into you and moaning right by your ear.

"So wet," he whispered to you, "so warm. All mine…"

You felt your insides grip him harder and he smiled, lips tickling your sensitive skin.

"Yeah, you like bein' mine. You like being owned, I can feel it. I can feel that this is exactly what you needed. Is that what you were hoping for when you came out to these woods all by yourself? That a big strong man would show up and stretch out this pussy? Well I'm here now, angel, and I'm just about ready to fill you up real good."

A few more thrusts, faster and harder than ever, were enough to send Steve over the edge as you felt each pulse warm you from the inside out. Steve groaned loudly and buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, painting his come right onto your cervix while you gasped at the sensation.

Bucky stopped moving your hand and looked down at Steve. "Are you fucking serious— did you just come inside?"

Steve took a moment to catch his breath before answering: "duh."

"How come you get to come inside but I don't, huh?"

"Cause I went second!"

"Yeah, that's some bullshit," Bucky scoffed.

"Will you just leave now, please?" you whimpered weakly from the ground. "You got what you wanted, now just go."

"Oh, sweetheart, we are nowhere near done with you," Steve promised, sighing as he pulled out of you slowly.

You wanted to try to get up, but your limbs were weak and numb, and your head heavy with confusion. It made it easy for Bucky to scoop you up and carry you back the way you'd run, your tent quickly coming into view which made you realize how pitifully short your chase had been.

“Looks big enough for the three of us,” Steve noted as he tilted his head to look at your camp.

“We’re not going in yet, I think somebody needs a little creek bath first,” Bucky smiled as he started to set you down on your shaky legs. “Go ahead and strip, doll.”

You shivered, considering resistance but deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble as you started to peel off your shirt and jacket, then your boots and slightly torn leggings.

They both smiled and watched you, Bucky snorted a little when he saw how hard your nipples were. “It’s chilly,” you defended meekly.

“Sure it is,” he nodded, “don’t stop, get in the water when you’re done.”

You nodded slightly as you tossed the clothes aside, trying to cover yourself with your arms as you slowly walked into the stony creek, wishing the water weren’t so clear so it would cover you better.

You made a weak attempt to clean yourself, watching goosebumps cover your skin from the cool water.

"Wash yourself up good,” Bucky instructed firmly. “I don't want any of Rogers' jizz still in you when I take that pussy again."

With a grimace, you washed between your legs and winced when your touch reawakened the sting of soreness there.

“You’re gonna have to push it out, honey, it’s real deep,” Steve grinned pridefully.

You did your best to clean up, not for Bucky’s benefit but for your own, because you hated how it felt to have Steve’s spend still within you.

“How am I supposed to dry off?” you asked nervously as you looked around, knowing you hadn’t brought a towel as you hadn’t really planned on a full creek bath during your trip. You hadn’t planned on any of this during your trip, shockingly enough.

“You can drip dry,” Steve suggested.

“So you want me to stand naked in the cold for an hour while I dry?” you realized, irritated but still scared.

“Something like that,” Bucky confirmed. “Unless you want us to keep you warm…”

“I’ll freeze,” you decided, stepping out of the water as Bucky snatched your clothes away to make sure you couldn’t dress. “Gimme those!”

“Come and get ‘em,” he challenged, leaving you to huff and cross your arms, teeth chattering as the wind picked up.

You couldn’t imagine why they cared so much about testing your will when they’d already proven that they could take you however they wanted. Perhaps it was just that they wanted to know you’d accepted that. Better yet, they probably hoped you would participate willingly if you understood that you never had a choice.

Closing your eyes didn’t help, you could still feel their hungry gaze on you; rubbing yourself with your hands didn’t help because it just spread the cold water around on your skin, rather than actually warming you up.

It was probably less than a minute but it felt like half an hour before you relented, walking up to Bucky and looking down to avoid his stare as you meekly requested, “can I have my clothes, please?”

“But I can think of so many better ways to keep you warm,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, Steve moving behind you to press his chest against your back. You sighed with relief because even this was already making you feel better, the warmth of their bodies taking out some of the chill while their size blocked you from the wind. You mewled, ever so quietly, when you felt Bucky’s lips on your neck, your eyes falling shut as your head fell back onto Steve’s chest.

They showered you in gentle touches and teasing kisses as they picked you up and carried you into your tent, the small space beginning to warm quickly with the heat of three people inside— or was it just you that was getting hot from what they were doing to you.

Steve was groping your tits and pinching your hardened nipples, while Bucky focused most on sucking your neck or biting just beneath your ear. It was overwhelming, and impossible to ignore though you wanted so desperately not to be aroused. There were only four hands exploring your body but it might as well have been a hundred because you couldn’t tell the difference, they were touching you everywhere all at once.

"Now, are you gonna behave or do we need to tie you up?" Steve asked quietly.

You shook your head wildly, tensing up just imagining that. "Then say it," he instructed.

"I-I'll be good," you promised weakly.

Bucky grinned and slid his hand up your thigh, and though you didn’t mean to, when Bucky reached between your legs you tried to shut them and squirm away, it was instinct.

"Ah ah ah," Steve tutted. "You said you'd be good."

"Think we oughta tie her up," Bucky nodded, feigning disappointment.

"No, please, I'm sorry—"

"Too late for sorry, dollface," Bucky smirked, grabbing a shirt from your pack and tearing it into strips like it was no effort at all.

Steve held your wrists together for Bucky to tie, and they even tied your legs up bent and spread wide, finishing it off with a gag in your mouth.

Now you were helpless to Bucky pinching your clit, circling it with his thick and calloused finger, applying pressure to it until your eyes watered. At first it was exploratory, delicate, but once he’d found the most sensitive places he began to rub your clit hard and fast, laughing every time you moaned and flicking the sensitive bud to make your body jolt.

"Yeah, this little cunt's getting all wet, y'like having your pussy played with?" he smirked.

He accentuated his question with a few sudden spanks to your clit that made you jerk and yelp. The worst thing was that each slap made a wet sound that made you sure you were soaking by now.

“I know you want it so bad, don’t worry doll, I’m not gonna make you wait anymore…”

He caged you in and opened his jeans one more time, the process going much more quickly since he didn’t have to hold you down— you could squirm and cry, but that was about it.

With a little grunt, he pushed into you, and with how wet you were it actually went it much more easily. It was by no means painless though, especially since he was already moving and giving you no time to adjust.

"Yeah, that's better," he sighed, grinning as he watched you whine into the gag. "Now I can really take my time with you, show you how good I can make you feel."

He was certainly more relaxed than the first time, his pace measured and calculated as he made sure his hips met with yours fully at the end of each stroke. His width wasn’t as challenging in this position but his length certainly was, bumping into your sore and delicate cervix until you were forced to bite down onto the gag to cope.

But, in spite of the pain, or perhaps because of it, something deep and strong was forming inside you, tightening and twisting until it took all your effort not to let it spill forth.

He reached down and roughly rubbed your clit again, forcing a muffled scream from your throat as he grinned down at you. “Close already, huh? Good to know I haven’t lost my touch after all these years.”

You almost heard Steve scoff beside you, but it was hard to hear anything when your ears felt like they were full of cotton, only your own echoing heartbeat ringing louder than anything else.

"Yeah, I wanna feel you fuckin' come,” Bucky growled. “Bet you get even tighter every time."

As much as you wished not to, you fell over the edge, back arching until your chest bumped into Bucky’s where he hovered above you. He coaxed you along in his words and movements, your walls clenching in a nonsensical rhythm. More than anything you just wished he would stop moving so you could catch your breath, but his pace never faltered and it felt like you’d never stop coming if he never stopped fucking you.

“That’s it, good fucking girl,” he groaned, “makin’ you feel so good, aren’t I? Answer me.”

You hesitated, and sniffled, but finally nodded.

Even worse, your clit was so swollen now that he didn’t even need to rub it with his thumb anymore; his cock rubbed against it with each movement, the ridges of his shaft massaging you there until it felt like every part of your body had become the most sensitive place possible. You shook violently beneath him, each wave of pleasure stronger than the last until you felt like you had lost all sense of time, and space, and really anything that wasn’t being fucked in this tent like the fate of the world depended on it.

"Get outta the tent, Steve,” Bucky instructed suddenly.

"Why?" Steve protested with a scoff.

"I can't come with you starin' at me!"

"I'm not looking at you, dumbass,” he sneered, “I'm lookin’ at her. So pretty when she cries…"

"Whatever, either way, just go outside please?"

Clearly irritated but relenting anyways, Steve grunted under his breath as he got up, stepping unceremoniously over both of you. Bucky sighed with relief when Steve zipped the tent flap shut behind him, turning his attention back to you. “That’s better, isn’t it? Just me and you… way it oughta be.”

“I heard that!” Steve called from outside.

“Then stop listening!” Bucky suggested through his teeth before leaning down to whisper in your ear, holding your hips tight so he could fuck you harder than ever. "I don't give a fuck what he says, I'm coming in you this time. Not pulling out until I know every drop is in you, wanna see this pussy stuffed to the brim with my come… you want it too, huh?”

Another electrifying pulse inside you made your channel flutter around him, and how cruel that the moan he made actually turned you on more.

"Fuck, that's it, squeeze my fuckin' dick, honey. Wanna milk all the come outta my cock, don't you?"

You nodded again, hearing him moan in that perfect way one more time before you started to feel him pulse and swell within you, streams of hot come pouring into you. The amount was pretty impressive since he’d already come once, although you didn’t exactly feel ‘impressed,’ so much as horrified and confused. And numb, from coming so many times.

Bucky smiled down at you with an exhausted sigh, smacking you lightly on the face a few times to try to rouse you from your blissed-out state, but all you could do was hum sleepily into the gag.

“M’gonna untie you now, you’re too out of it to try anything,” he explained, releasing the gag first before working on your wrists and your legs. A rush of warm come oozed out of your abused hole when he pulled back, making your face heat up as he smiled and held your legs up to see it better. “Yeah, filled you up real nice,” he informed you. He gave a reassuring pat to your thigh before getting up and getting out of the tent, leaving you to stare blankly into nothingness for a while.

Eventually, you knew you had to face the world again, though you were more sure than ever that you weren’t prepared for it. Grabbing a blanket from the floor of the tent and covering yourself with it, you took a slow breath to try to stabilize yourself.

For how slow time seemed to have passed so far, you were surprised to see the sun setting when you opened the tent flap and stepped outside. You realized, with a sick feeling in your chest, that they had been using you nearly all day now. And considering they were waiting for you around the fire, giving you a glance up and down as you emerged from the tent, they still might not stop for a while.

In fact, they’d made themselves very comfortable from the looks of it. The fire was burning stronger than ever, three logs positioned around the sides of the firepit to sit on; a pot was over the fire, and you recognized the contents as some of the food supplies from your pack. Best of all, Steve had found your battery radio and adjusted the station, blues quietly playing from the speaker as he used your hunting knife to whittle a stick.

Serves you right to suffer, the smooth voice crooned from the broadcast, serves you right to be alone...

For a moment, the three of you sat in silence as you took in the scene. But when the wind changed and the heat of the fire no longer reached you, you remembered you had business to attend to.

“C-Can I have my clothes back now?” you asked Bucky quietly, seeing them draped over the side of one of the logs.

“I think if you get dressed you’ll try to run again,” Steve mumbled, not even looking up at you.

“No, I won’t, I’m too tired,” you explained. “I just don’t want to be cold.”

“Fire’s hot enough,” Bucky dismissed. “Why don’t you just lay down a while, hm? Get some rest. You earned it.”

You weren’t just tired physically, but mentally, which is partly why you didn’t put up more of a fight before going over to the log and laying beside it, the blanket around you protecting you from the cold ground while you used your clothes as a sort of pillow on the log.

It couldn’t have been that you were asleep, because you could still hear the fire and the radio and Steve’s whittling (a constant reminder that he had a knife), but with your eyes closed and the darkness getting darker it was almost like sleep. A draining, restless sleep that did nothing to shelter you from the memories of what you’d become.

So, you opened your eyes, staring into the flames instead and venturing the occasional glance at Bucky or Steve; the former always met your stare, the latter would only look up if a sound got his attention.

“You gonna take a turn?” Bucky asked Steve casually, motioning to you by cocking his head.

“Not yet, need a while to... you know, build up some energy,” Steve explained.

“Mind if I have another go then?”

“She’s all yours,” Steve approved, making Bucky grin as he got up and circled the log you were slumped over.

“Y’hear that, dollface? All mine,” he cooed, picking you up and adjusting you until you were bent over the log, facing Steve and the fire. Your clothes kept your naked torso from rubbing against the bark, thankfully, but nothing could spare you from Bucky’s incessant touch, running up your back, over your butt which he spanked a few times for good measure, and finally to your entrance which he pushed two fingers into first. “Mm, we stretched you out pretty good… you’ll be back in shape by the mornin’, but until then, I just slide right in…”

And he proved himself right with one long stroke that pushed his cock to the deepest parts of you, pushing your hips forward into the log as you tried your best to keep your breathing steady.

He was uniquely quiet this time, still moaning and grunting occasionally but otherwise sparing you from the constant taunts and filthy whispers. Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best to look unaffected, but the subtle adjustment of his legs along with the increased vigor of his carving made it clear he was distracted by the sight in front of him.

Bucky’s strong hands on your hips were sure to leave marks, fingertips digging into your curves and pulling you back onto him, spearing you on his length.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he sighed, “gonna come.”

And it was actually a relief because this was going to end (for now), which was definitely the only reason you moaned in response. He got more talkative after that, smacking you on the ass a few more times as he chuckled darkly behind you.

“Fuck, take it, doll… take all my fuckin’ come.”

It was sort of a meaningless instruction, since you had to, but he seemed to enjoy reminding you that he was about to take his pleasure from your body one more time. He made a weak little moaning noise, almost pained, as he filled you once again, slumping down on top of you and for the first time really showing signs of exhaustion after coming three times in a day. You were so out of it that you hardly noticed his weight on you, or the little kisses he gave to your ear, whispering praises that tried your best not to hear.

He pulled out and came back around to look at your face again, pulling you up slightly by your hair so you looked up at him.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned. “Open your mouth sweetheart,” he instructed, spitting onto your tongue as soon as you’d done it, then lifting your jaw to make you close your mouth and swallow.

He tugged your hair harder before he kissed you, more possessive than affectionate, but unexpected regardless. His tongue tangled with yours as he reached down to circle his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse but not going so far as to choke you.

A little groan from Steve caught both his attention and yours. "You wanna fuck her, Stevie?"

"Oh god, I want that ass, I want that fuckin ass," he answered through his teeth, making you gulp as Bucky laughed.

"Go for it, man," he encouraged, and only a second after he stood up you both heard and felt Steve appear behind you, one calloused hand spreading your cheeks; you whimpered from embarrassment when you felt a finger circle your tight rim, before slowly pushing in.

"Fuck," you whispered, and it sounded much more like a curse of pleasure than you intended.

"Yeah, you want it don't you?" he asked through his teeth, giving you a hard spank that made you cry out. Bucky slapped you when you didn't answer, grabbing your jaw roughly.

"He asked you a question," he reminded you firmly, the sound of Steve spitting into his hand and coating your hole and his length distracting you slightly.

"Yes, yes, I want it!" you sobbed.

"Where?"

"In my ass!"

Your body put up significant resistance against his swollen head, but it was no match for his rough thrust forward, the tip of him popping inside and stretching you painfully. You bit your lip but it was impossible to stay quiet when he slid the rest of the way in.

You cried out as he moaned with satisfaction, already moving so much faster than you could handle (which, to be fair, was a low bar).

"Oh my god," he breathed. "So fuckin' tight…"

The pain was sharp, and it felt like the base of his cock was impossibly thicker than the rest of him since you whined every time he pushed in.

"Aw, does it hurt baby? That's my cock ruining your little hole, sweetheart…"

"Stop," you rasped, "please… please stop…"

"Nah, I think you like it… I think what you really needed was just to be put in your place, fucked in every hole so you know exactly what you're meant for."

Bucky appeared in front of you again, stroking himself in front of your face, still slick from behind inside you.

"See what a mess you made on my cock, dollface? I think you need to help me clean it up," he groaned, holding your jaw open to stuff his cock into your mouth and stifle your sobs. The taste of your and his come was potent and musky on your tongue, his head pushing right into your open throat when you tried to gag.

Steve held you tighter as he thrusted a bit more vigorously, Bucky simultaneously using your throat as he stroked your hair and cheek.

You couldn’t remember how to do anything but just take it now. At times their paces synchronized and you felt like you were being filled to the brim at both ends. Other times they were in a syncopation where one pushed in just as the other pulled out, meaning you had no real breaks at all.

Bucky was too weak to come again, that much was obvious, but he was happy to choke you anyways; and Steve, well, Steve was moaning more now than he had from your mouth or pussy, apparently trying to hold himself back even though he had no reason to try to prolong this— unless he actually wanted to see you in pain more than he wanted to finish?

“You want me to come in your ass?” Steve interrogated you with a spank to your thigh. “Beg for it.”

You shook your head around the length in your mouth.

“It doesn’t stop until you beg me for it, isn’t that what you want? You want it to stop, right?”

Had you really fallen into his trap that easily?

Bucky pulled back to give you the opportunity to meet Steve’s request, and you sucked in a lungful of air before finally whimpering: “Please, Steve… please come…”

“Where?” he pressed, ever-determined to make you remind him where he was fucking you.

“Please come in my ass…”

“If you say so, sweetheart,” he snickered before starting to thrust faster and more erratically, chasing his peak which you prayed was close. It was, thankfully, though never close enough, and you forgot that the swell of his pulsating cock would stretch your tired hole even wider.

And, you forgot that he had no reason to pull out just because he’d come.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “that was good.”

You tried to kick him away but it was impossible with how hard he’d pinned you down to the log.

“Just stay still and keep my cock warm in this pretty ass of yours, alright?” he instructed, all the while Bucky stared down at you with a satisfied smirk on his face, combing your hair a bit with his fingers.

“You’re tired, huh?” he noticed. “We’ll get you to bed soon.”

“Will you leave?” you instantly returned.

“We need somewhere to make camp for the night, too. And since there’s already a perfectly good camp right here…”

“No,” you whined, “no, you’re never gonna leave me alone, are you?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright?” he offered.

It was truly a testament to how physically exhausted you were that you managed to fall asleep squished between your two personal monsters.

Bucky was behind you, essentially spooning you while Steve had an arm draped over your chest. And even with the heavy weight on you, physical and metaphysical, you would’ve slept through the night easily if it weren’t for the feeling of Steve running his hands over your body, groping you wherever he could reach.

You opened your eyes but it was still pitch darkness, giving you no distraction from the physical sensations of Steve's fingers delicately grazing over your skin. Behind you, the quiet stability of Bucky’s breathing made it clear he was still asleep and unaware.

“Steve,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Shh,” he soothed below his breath, right by your ear. “He sleeps like a rock, we’re not gonna wake him up with a little fooling around.”

Amazingly enough, that wasn’t exactly what you were worried about. But you discontinued your dissent as he lightly suckled the lobe of your ear, fingers tracing abstract shapes over your hip. You heard your own breath catch, and he must have too because he smiled and nibbled on your neck.

You shivered when he started to pull you closer, laying you back to reach between your legs and toy with your overly-sensitive folds. His fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow circles, making you writhe and jolt as shocks of pleasure shot through you.

“So sensitive,” he praised darkly, pushing against you harder. “Gettin’ wet, honey? Want you dripping before I put my cock in you.”

Bucky stirred beside you, pulling you closer in his sleep though Steve kept a strong hold on your lower half. It was nearly claustrophobic being sandwiched between them like this, made even worse when Steve adjusted your hips and you felt his cock rub against you.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered in your ear, cradling your face in his large, rough hands.

“I— I want it,” you whispered back, biting your lip to stay quiet when he pushed in. You were still sore, but the wetness helped ease his way as he filled you to the brim, groaning softly and thrusting much more gently than you expected. It was all very relaxed, and languid, and… sleepy. It was so much easier to pretend that you wanted this when it was gentle and patient like this, when you couldn’t see his face

“You two got started without me?” Bucky interjected, making you both gasp.

"You seemed pretty busy snoring over there," Steve explained with an unamused tone. “You know, Barnes, I actually broke out of prison so I wouldn’t have to sleep in the same room as you for the rest of my life.”

“Leave if you want, Rogers, I’ll keep the girl and you can take her battery radio, ya limpdick.”

“Limpdick? Were you not here for the past twenty-four hours?”

“Yeah, I was fucking this sweet little thing while you were out there by the fire doing your arts and crafts.”

And just like that, your sweet and gentle sex was gone; Steve was determined to claim you now, fucking you harder and faster until you couldn’t hold back your broken moans. "Yeah, you like that?" he growled against your ear. "You like gettin' fucked? Say it."

"Y-yes, I like it," you gasped.

"We're gonna be on the run for a while…" Bucky mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder, "sure wouldn't mind takin' you with us, keeping our own little pet to fuck whenever we want."

You tried not to stop breathing entirely when he said that, distracted by Steve slowing down slightly, offering some reprieve.

"Been so long without touchin' a woman," Steve added huskily, "I don't know if one day is enough."

"Yeah, plus we've already got you obedient, trained, fucked braindead and full of come," Bucky replied, biting down on your skin to make you whimper and he chuckled happily.

"Are you sure you can share, Barnes?" Steve pressed. "I know if you had it your way she'd be ripped to shreds by now."

"Whatever man, you're the one who tore her ass up."

Steve scoffed slightly, while Bucky continued.

"You wanna come with us sweetheart? We'll be real good to you, keep your holes wet and full for a couple months straight at least. You won't have to worry about a thing, won't have to lift a finger, just keep your legs spread and you'll be peachy."

"Hey, that's what we'll call you: Peach," Steve decided. "It's perfect, isn't it? 'Cause you're sweet… and soft… and I could just eat you up," he purred.

"Wanna be our girl, Peach?" Bucky prompted.

"No, please…"

You expected anger, you expected them to hurt you, but you didn't expect them to laugh. "Looks like our sweet little Peach hasn't had a chance to realize how good it's gonna be with us," Steve announced.

"Yeah, let's show her how much she wants to be our girl," Bucky snickered, holding your hips as Steve started to move inside you again.

Bucky, meanwhile, was grabbing handfuls of your ass and groaning as he rubbed his cock against you. One finger explored your rim and slowly pushed in.

"Looks like you're still a little loosened up from when Stevie here gave it to you, huh? He was real mean, wasn't he?"

You nodded, clutching harder into Steve's chest as he fucked you faster.

"Then taking me should be a breeze."

Truly, you had no idea how this was possible. I'm the dark it all felt like a fever dream, but when Bucky pushed into your available opening while Steve was still fucking you… it was definitely real, the feeling was too overwhelming not to be.

'A breeze' was definitely an exaggeration but it was undeniably easier, especially since being half-asleep made your body so much more relaxed. You still hissed when Bucky's hips met your ass, you still choked on a breath at the feeling of two cocks buried all the way inside you, but it wasn't from pain as much as being full beyond your wildest dreams

"You were right about this ass, Rogers, goddamn…" Bucky moaned, holding your hips tight and beginning to thrust.

"Fuck, can hardly believe you're takin' both of us," Steve sighed against your ear. "I know you love it, Peach, I know you love bein' so full…"

Your lips fumbled with the desire to moan a name but not sure whose to say; so instead you just babbled mindlessly, sounded just as dumbfounded as you felt.

But they weren't having any problems speaking, in fact they were more talkative than ever, each whispering in a different ear and making shivers crawl up your spine with every word.

"You're making us feel so good, such a good girl, aren't you Peachy baby?"

"Such a perfect fucking whore, so wet already just from being used."

"Want us to come inside, huh Peach? Wanna be full of come?”

Each time you arched your back, it only somehow pushed them both deeper, so deep you couldn’t think about anything else anymore. Bucky was moving at a much slower pace than Steve, such that they would only occasionally thrust all the way in at exactly the same time— and when they did, you heard yourself moan but refused to believe it was you making the sound because it sounded nothing like you, it didn’t even seem like something you would do; enjoying this that much, that is.

“You’re close, huh? Gonna come for both of us?”

You found yourself nodding, even though they couldn’t see it, but Bucky must have felt it against his shoulder because he laughed a little, grabbing your face and turning you back to kiss you hungrily. When he moved his kiss down to the back of your neck, Steve captured your lips instead, less dominating than Bucky’s but no less intense. The moan that undeniably signalled your orgasm was nearly lost against Steve’s tongue, but they both heard it and began to pump into you faster, keeping you suspended in your pleasure.

Steve lost it first, spilling into you with a choked groan and a tight grip on your arms that was sure to bruise. Bucky was close behind, panting with each hurried thrust until he finally moaned and filled your ass with ropes of hot come, a sensation you never could’ve imagined, let alone predicted you would experience twice in one day.

Bucky rubbed your thighs while he caught his breath while Steve peppered your face in tender kisses, both of them showering you in affection you had no idea how to handle.

“Whaddaya say, dollface?” Bucky prompted as he kissed just beneath your ear. “Y’like bein’ our little Peach, don’t you?”

You stammered over a few different responses, none of them very good, until Steve finally instructed you: “say yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated instantly.

“I can tell you do, you soaked my cock real good,” Steve praised with a grin you could feel against your cheek and hear in his gravelly voice. “We’ll head out in the morning, alright? Soon we’ll be somewhere where nobody knows who we are, what we’ve done… doesn’t that sound nice, Peach? A chance to start over?”

A fresh start never hurt anyone, right?

Months on the run made the night all blend together, you didn’t even know what state you were in anymore and you couldn’t find the energy to care.

It was definitely harder to hitchhike with three people, and a disturbing amount of truckers offered to take you alone but not your companions— and obviously they would never allow such a thing. At this point, you were better off with the devils you knew, anyways. At least with them you knew what to expect.

Specifically, you could expect Steve to be aloof and brooding until he occasionally snapped and became possessive over you again, asserting his dominance over you and Bucky however he could manage— usually by covering your body in his marks and every once in a while by covering your face with his come. You could expect Bucky to taunt and mock you, cornering you into consenting to his relentless barrage of pleasure and pain, over and over again watching you struggle to maintain your sense of denial and disgust, reminding you that you loved being fucked just how he wanted.

In fact, today was a pretty typical day while the three of you crashed in a motel, Steve staying silent and distant while Bucky kissed his way down your stomach that rose and fell shakily with each breath.

“Bucky, p-please,” you whispered, closing your eyes so you could more easily pretend it wasn’t you begging him for more.

"What's that, Peach? Want me to lick up your juice?" he grinned.

You shuddered and he chuckled as he knelt down between your legs to give a long, slow lick over your sex. Your entire body jolted when his rough tongue slid over your swollen clit, so he focused there until your legs were quivering and your head fell back.

"Mm, so sweet…” he cooed. “Come getta taste a’this, Steve.”

“I’m busy,” Steve refused, turning the page of his newspaper.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Bucky sighed, standing up straighter and leaving your pussy ignored; you whined a little, but it fell on deaf ears. “I’d love to see what you’re reading that could possibly be more interesting than this.”

“There’s an article about us,” Steve answered sternly, looking up from the paper to meet Bucky’s gaze, before glancing to look at you. “All three of us.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving you naked on the bed as he crossed the room to tear the paper from Steve’s hands. His eyes scanned the page until he landed on the part Steve must have been referring to. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Look, Peach, you made the papers!”

He brought over the article for you to read, and you sat up straighter when you saw that a photo of yourself had been included alongside the mugshots of Steve and Bucky.

Two escaped prisoners, one missing woman, spotted in woods near Schenectady, NY...

“When is this from?” you asked nervously.

“The paper’s from today, but we were in Schenectady two weeks ago,” Steve explained. “They aren’t anywhere near us.”

It brought back memories of TV broadcasts you’d seen in hotels, radio news Steve had turned off before you heard too much. Phrases like ‘statewide manhunt,’ ‘federal investigation,’ and ��trafficked woman,’ which had once been foreign to you, now represented your deepest anxieties.

Bucky saw the fear on your face and knelt down on the bed beside you, stroking your face gently. “Aw, Peach, don’t be scared… they’re not gonna find us, I promise.”

“If they did… what would happen to me?” you asked weakly. You truly had no idea if you’d be returned home and treated as the victim of a crime, or if you’d be arrested and charged as a perpetrator, as a collaborator who aided in the escape and continued flee of two violent criminals. They’d already gotten you in on a few robberies, even one bank— could you defend yourself by saying that you were forced to do it?

“Nobody’s gonna take you away from us,” Bucky assured sternly, not quite answering your question but making it clear that was all you were gonna get. You reached up to rest your hand atop his where it held your cheek, letting your watery eyes fall shut before you looked back up into his enrapturing gaze again.

“Kiss me, Bucky, please,” you whispered, making him laugh and shake his head.

“No, Peachy, I would but I know where that mouth has been. Steve woke you up in the middle of the night to choke on his cock, thought I wouldn’t hear, huh?”

You gasped a little and Steve crossed his arms where he sat in the chair. Bucky turned his attention back to Steve with a look of challenge on his face. “She’s scared, Stevie, won’t you come over here and make her feel better?”

Steve sighed but relented and stood up, crossing the room to stand beside the bed and stare down at you. For a moment you didn’t know what he intended to do, until he knelt down and grabbed your hips, pulled your spread legs closer to the edge of the bed where he latched his lips onto your slick and swollen folds.

“Oh god,” you moaned, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair, his tongue pushing inside you right away, twisting and thrusting and licking right over your g-spot until your eyes rolled back in your head and your back arched up off the faded quilt. Bucky grinned as he watched you, leaning down to kiss your neck, then suckle on a hardened nipple, then lick over your hips until finally he bit down on the inside of your thigh. You yelped a little and felt him smile against your delicate skin.

“I told you we’d take care of you, babydoll,” he mumbled, voice all deep and throaty like it got when he was about to spend an hour reminding you who you belonged to.

Sometimes you dreamed of the life you had before this, of the person you were when you only belonged to yourself, but that life was gone forever and it wasn’t coming back. Each day you mourned it in a different way. At first it was just the loss of dignity, then it was the loss at any chance of gaining that dignity back. You missed your friends and family, but you realized they wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms after this long.

You realized it was well and truly over the first time a man on the news called you an accomplice to the ‘rampant crime spree’ of Bucky and Steve. Just a few weeks later, the stories changed from two prisoners and their kidnapping victim, to three prisoners. And yes, you were a prisoner, but the police didn’t see a difference between you and them anymore. You had no reason to run, no motive for escape. They were the only thing keeping you alive and free now, even if this freedom wasn’t exactly overflowing with liberties.

So, you accepted as quickly as you could that this was your new life; every morning you banished the memories of who you used to be, and every night you prayed that your lovers wouldn’t be caught. And it wasn’t so bad of a life to have, even if it wasn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself— there was something nice about it, really, never very calm but still having its moments of peace and domesticity. Like falling asleep in the backseat of a stolen truck while Steve played blues on the radio. Like sitting in Bucky’s lap as he told you all about the beautiful tropical islands they’d take you to someday. Like when Steve robbed a jewelry store and told you he’d picked that one because they had the ring he’d seen in a magazine ad, the ring he decided he wanted you to wear from now on. Like being Mrs. Barnes when Bucky introduced you to his criminal connections, and being Mrs. Rogers when Steve did the same the next night.

Maybe you’d forgotten how to be anything else but their sweet, quiet, obedient Peach, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad wrap after all.

#dark!stucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!stucky noncon #dark!stucky smut #dark!stucky au

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witches-and-devils · 2 years ago

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Addiction, Chapter 12

“You know, this would all go much faster if you actually assisted me, rather than sitting over there and pouting like a big baby,” Ace grumbled, glaring over at the large Demon in his chair despite the raging headache that compared to a surgical drill being forced through his skull. They’d been searching all over for Miles since the party, and yet nothing had so much as whisked by their noses since they’d started looking. It was like the moment they finally found some sort of lead in another town, within the time it’d take them to get there, he’d be gone and they would have to start all over again. He always seemed to be one step ahead of them.

Wrapping his pendant around his hand, Ace finally stepped back from the map and gave his eyes a break. He’d done tracking magic before, but it always took its toll when the target was moving too quickly for his spell to keep up with. “I’m serious, Damascus, pay attention. If we just had something of his with us, we could use the tracking spell and that would be that.” He raised a hand, shaking it through his red hair as he began to pace between the kitchen and the living room of their tiny cabin. “Fucking hell, now would be a good time to still have that marking,” he muttered underneath his breath, mostly to himself as he absentmindedly yanked at the collar around his neck. The habit was sticking, he could already tell, even after Damascus’s old, partially broken mark had faded away like it was never there, to begin with.

“Yeah, well. Too late for that.” The sound of the Archdemon’s voice nearly made him jump. It had been a while since their… admittedly tense confessions, but that strange air between them had yet to fade. It was really starting to make working together harder than it had been before. It wasn’t like they were fighting, really, exactly the opposite. It was relieving that they weren’t screaming at each other much, but everything felt different now. They didn’t talk much before, but even that much communication shrunk to something practically nonexistent. They danced around the topic, actively avoiding speaking about it and, as a result, ignoring each other most of the time. At least, that was how it felt. Maybe it was just him?

Damascus shifted in his chair, standing up and walking over to inspect the map. He stared at it almost as if he could intimidate it into showing them more clues so long as he transferred his murderous intent through his eyes alone. “Well, he’s got old Church bones, some old Church spellbook. Maybe we should look more into Church… shit?”

Ace paused, rolling his eyes as he waved off the idea with a flick of his hand. “You do understand that there’s not just… a handful of Churches sitting around, yes? Thousands, Damascus. If not more. But… okay, well-” He sighed, leaning back on the balls of his feet as he rubbed a hand over his face, “Let’s just… what have they collected so far? Old bones of some, what, Saint? Or at least someone important enough to be buried underneath an ancient crypt and protected despite having an orphanage over top of it. A book about bindings with Demons and how to… affect them?”

Hopefully, Miles wasn’t planning on trying to tie another Demon to him. Would that even make sense? Could Demons even try something like that? He opened his mouth to ask the question, only to be cut off when a sharp knock came from the front door of their hideout. Instantly he could see Damascus growing tense, that tightening in his shoulders and snarl dragging up the corner of his mouth, a telltale sign he’d learned to pick up easily enough over the years. Panic bubbled up from within Ace’s chest, his wrist flicking out and extinguishing any open light sources within the building as he dropped down into a silent crouch.

Was it the Church? Had Cecelia said something? No- no, if it was the Church they would have attacked in a public space. They’d have wanted to make an example of him, not snuff him out like some flame in the middle of the forest. He leaned down closer to the ground, listening closely for any noise or sign that might give him an idea of what or who exactly was waiting on the other side of the door.

That’s when he heard the faint sound of… fluttering? Like… locusts, almost. A lot of locusts. It was still winter, they shouldn’t be-

Crash!

Ace barely held back a screech as he ducked out of the way just as the window in their living room burst open and dozens- no, hundreds of tiny, red-skinned Imps began to skitter and fly around their room with wild abandon. Throwing his hands up, his magic instantly went to work, crafting thick walls of wind to act as a barrier around himself as he tried desperately to see through the haze of red so he could grasp what exactly was going on. Okay- okay, focus. He needed to ensure his own safety before focusing on anything else. Damascus was big, he could take a few hits, Ace wouldn’t be so lucky if he were to catch one of these little fuckers in the throat.

Despite their proximity, his Familiar was instantly lost in the flood of minor Demons that invaded their space. He couldn’t do shit if he couldn’t see what he needed to do in the first place! A steady bubble of cold air surrounded the Witch, keeping most of the beasts an uneasy distance away from him as he rubbed his hands together. He’d only managed to do this a few times before, but if it worked, it might…

“Fuck it. Damascus- close your eyes!” Pale hands slammed down into the ground, thin streams of light spider webbing and cracking their way through the old wood before the darkened space filled with a bright light that had the Demons screeching and flinching away as if the mere presence was burning their skin along with their eyes. He could hear Damascus’s roar of anger, though he wasn’t sure exactly what the rage was being directed towards.

“Fucking hell- I thought you rigged this place with a shit load of alarms- how did this many Demons get in!?”

“I did!” Ace shot back, darting through the mass in an attempt to locate the source of the annoying behemoth, “How come you weren’t able to smell them!?” A claw finally broke through the shield around him, leaving a nasty gash up one of his forearms. Hissing loudly, Ace flicked a hand and the beast began to spin… and spin… and spin and spin and spin and spin until he forced it to stop all too suddenly. Its head spun around a few extra times before it fell dead with a loud thud that was engulfed in the roars and screeches around them. “Where are they all coming from!?”

There was a surprising amount of Demons pouring into the cabin. All fairly weak, considering how easily they were dispatched, but… how did they make it past all of his alarms? It didn’t make sense. Unless you knew the woods as Ace did, you wouldn’t have- a corpse went whizzing towards him. Inhaling sharply, he threw his hands up and forced the Imp through the roof.

“Fantastic! Now snow’s going to get in- Damascus! Watch where you throw the dead!” He snapped, kneeling and kicking out a leg to catch another Imp as it skittered towards him. Okay, focus- focus- how the hell did this many Demons get into his woods unnoticed? Teleportation? He hadn’t associated with any Witches since leaving the Church aside from the rare few during contracts over the years. Where-

His thoughts were cut off when he heard another bellow from Damascus. These things were just some simplistic, annoying fiends, why was he getting so enraged at them? Ace paused for a moment, keeping the cyclone of wind around him as he paused to look a bit closer at the battle before him.

Most of these Imps weren’t going for him. In fact, now that he was focusing, he could easily see Damascus from here. The Demon was being swarmed as he batted angrily at everything around him. His olive-colored skin was covered in tiny scratches and claw marks but a strange black ichor seemed to be oozing from them.

“Damascus!” His familiar roared again, ripping an Imp in half before punching the remains over and over and over again instead of focusing on the other threats around him. A brief glimpse of those eyes and Ace knew he was going feral, but- Ace snapped his fingers, bisecting a Demon before Damascus could bite it in half which earned him that enraged stare. Before he realized what was happening, the Archdemon was swinging his hand down to collide with the side of Ace’s head. Hands flew up, magic desperately twisting and forming to try and create some sort of protection before the impact, only for it to never occur.

Ace had an arm wrapped around his waist, hoisting him out of the way and up into the air. He gasped, moving to turn but he could see nothing but a large set of leathery wings and a thick tail from the corner of his eye.

“Whoopsy daisy!” No- “Let’s not let the big guy have too much fun, shall we?” The voice purred, an overdramatic huff leaving his lips as a pair of golden eyes dipped into his vision. “Imp poison. Hell of a drug, really. It’ll make even the most docile of Demons go crazy.”

“Miles-”

“It’s Loran, darling, you should know I’m not some silly orphanage caretaker by now, shouldn’t you?” The Incubus chuckled, leaning down and nuzzling into the side of Ace’s neck. “But enough about me! How’re you, Ace?” He could already feel the Incubus trying to draw him back in, keeping a secure grip on him so he couldn’t worm his way out of his arms as Ace watched Damascus lose his mind in a sea of red.

“Damascus! Calm yourself, dammit!” The Witch screamed through the chaos, twisting and turning as best as he could to try and free himself from Loran’s vice grip. His head was screaming, demanding that he take a moment to collect himself before casting without thinking first. He brought his hands down, beating them feebly against his arms as he kicked and cursed while the Demon merely chuckled pitifully. “Let go, you- ass!” This was impossible. Chaos swarmed the cabin and made it too difficult to focus, the more angry Damascus grew the more strain Ace was having to put on himself to keep the chains in check so he wouldn’t break free.

He should have known. He should have been more aware. Ace watched as the Demons continued to swarm around his Familiar. This couldn’t happen again, he couldn’t just- sit by and watch as his chains were ripped forcefully from his soul. He couldn’t bear it- he wouldn’t survive it, even if the one he’d lose had terrified and enraged him for so long. If he started to cast he might expend too much energy, but if he didn’t cast he might not be able to hold out for much longer…

Something snapped inside Ace’s nose, blood beginning to pour out and paint the front of his face as he tried to keep Damascus reigned in as best as he could. “Damascus!” As he went to slam his hands down against Loran’s arms in another attempt to break free, a light caught the corner of his eye. His hands.

It started small at first, growing and twisting into a strange, beautiful light that was almost enough to draw his mind out of the fear of combat and into an odd sense of peace. He’d never been good with other forms of magic besides wind, since when could he conjure up something like this?

He didn’t have time to think about it. He couldn’t cast whatever it was on the ground but he knew another place that would work just as well. Ace’s hands reached up and hooked roughly into Loran’s thick hair. Another burst of bright light like earlier erupted, this time centered on the Incubus that held him high above the rest of the room. This magic was different, it was almost as if the Witch had managed to conjure his own, small form of the sun in their room.

He could feel his fingers sinking in, burning away bits of hair as Loran screamed, he could hear the Imps in the space screeching and smell burning flesh. He wasn’t even aware that he was screaming himself, even as something broke behind his milky white eyes and blood began to trickle down the sides of his face and out his ears. All he focused on was keeping this light up for as long as his body would let him… until his arms felt limp and he was forced to pull back. “Let. Go.”

“Fuck-!” Loran gasped as Ace finally had to give up on the spell, nearly falling out of the sky. He could try to pry himself free again, but that last spell had spent most of his energy. He could feel the Demon holding him aloft shifting before plucking a few of Ace’s red hair as he spoke, “S-sorry, Darling, I-” Before he could register what the man was trying to say to him, he was released and barreling towards the ground as the Imps trilled and ran away with burning skin and worried clicks. He could hear Loran bursting through the hole in the ceiling before that inevitable crash was cut short by a thick hand hooking him by the nape of his neck.

Damascus heaved, his eyes wild as he slammed Ace unceremoniously into the ground. His breath sounded like air canons beside his ears, his body crouched over him like some sort of gigantic ape. He looked… animalistic. Primal. For a moment, Ace was sure that this was the chance he’d been waiting for. His body felt too heavy to move, his magic was spent. Of course, Damascus would use this chance to kill him and finally return to hell.

Instead, like a tree falling in the middle of a forest, his Familiar fell to the side and sprawled across the floor. Ace sensed something flashing in the woods near their home, the stink of foreign magic in the air as a few remaining Imps crawled over to inspect their bodies. One poked at the Archdemon’s massive form, chewing on his ear, only to be swat away like a gnat and smashed into a bloody mess against the wall of their ruined cabin.

Nothing but the sound of labored breaths and the faint swoosh of wind dispatching what few Imps remained could be heard. He… okay. They were both exhausted. Good. That meant he probably wouldn’t try to break free right away. Loran. He’d taken some of Ace’s hair. Why did he need his hair? You only needed bits from other people if…

…

The hair, old bones, a book on Witch and Demon bonds... “I think another Witch is involved. They- they would have killed us when they had the chance, if… if that was what they were looking for. They had-” Ace paused, slowly pulling himself up, “they must’ve had orders or… fuck-” He fell back. His ears were ringing but at least his racing heartbeat was beginning to slow down. He felt like shit. Was sure he looked like it too, but he couldn’t expend the energy to wipe the blood from his face, much less stand up. Besides, their cabin was in shambles. It’d be a waste of time to fix it, and now that it was compromised…

They’d have to find another place to hide. Ace closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain that coursed through his body with each pulse of his heart. “This can’t be just some Demon having a grudge against us. That woman at the party, his partner? She must be a Witch, right? … Are you even fucking coherent right now?”

“Ffffffffffffffffuck you,” was all Damascus managed to grumble before he dragged himself onto his side and puked up more of that disgusting, black shit. Bits of his blood were smoking and steaming against his skin, most likely a result of whatever spell Ace had cast moments ago. Whatever it was that he’d done, the light seemed to have… burned away or at least caused significant harm to the Demons surrounding him, that much was obvious. “Lothario’s. They were… all Lothario’s Imps. Recognized their scent.”

Amazing, that was another thing to add to the ‘fuck this’ list. “Tell me straight, Little Boss,” Damascus grumbled, flipping back over so he could stare at the redhead as he spoke, “Did they break my chair?”

…

He knew it wouldn’t actually hurt the guy, but Ace still kicked him with as much feeble strength as he could muster. A broken chuckle coming from him as he tried to roll over once again and push himself up. “We just- almost died- and you’re- worried about the fucking chair?” The Witch looked over, quickly noticing that the old thing was somehow still intact, though now it was covered in gore from… well, he wasn’t sure if it was more Imp or Damascus if he was being honest.

“It’s stained and gonna smell terrible, but it’s still standing.” He tried to ignore the sigh of relief. Lothario’s Imps… who the hell would have scooped them up just to try and chuck them all at him and Damascus? “The Incubus stole some of my hair when he grabbed me. That type of magic is… I don’t think this is about us getting in the way of some old bones anymore.”

They needed to get their bearings before anything else. Damascus was a dick, but he wanted to make sure they wouldn’t just lie down and die if someone were to come back. Ace dragged himself over to Damascus’s body, huffing as he began to carefully run a hand along some of the worst wounds on the Demon’s body. “Hold still," he grumbled, pitifully attempting to heal what he could. His reserves were tapped and if he wasn’t careful-

“FUCK-” He snapped as his headache came back in full force. It felt like his eardrums had burst, the redhead kneeling and hissing loudly as the blood leaked with renewed effort and mingled with the remaining smudges and scratches along his face. “Nope. No, fuck that. No healing. No magic. Not now.” Dragging himself along and flopping into what remained of his window seat, Ace groaned as he allowed his head to drop between his knees. “Whatever they’re doing, it involves us if they’re looking for links with my being. Just… give me a second to… collect myself. Fuck.”

He was vaguely aware of Damascus slowly standing before flopping into his ratty old chair like a breaching whale. Then the loud snap of wood echoed throughout the space and all at once, the chair collapsed to the floor and left the Demon on a cushion flush with the ground.

“We really fucking suck, don’t we,” Damascus grumbled, though it sounded more like a statement than an actual question. “Here we are. Arguably the most powerful Witch in existence- shut the fuck up, you’d have to be to keep the most powerful Demon on the mortal place in line- but here we are. Most powerful Witch and most powerful Demon. And we got our asses kicked by a whole buncha Imps.”

Ace sighed, looking over as Damascus squared one leg over his knee and planted his hands on the remains of the armrests. “Somebody knew that. And I don’t like you. I’d still rather fucking kill you and go destroy a country or somethin’. But I will be damned if I let some shit like this happen again, so-” The Witch went still as the Demon held out his gigantic hand in an offering. “Truce? I don’t kill you, we give this whole working together thing a try. A real one. But just out of spite. The moment this shit is done, I am still gunning for your head.”

Ace blinked. He… looked serious. Of course, now was when he started taking things seriously, why not? Couldn’t have over the years of working together? No, no, wait until they nearly die before offering something as simple as working together. He supposed he couldn’t really complain, it wasn’t like he looked out for him either, he’d been too busy in that last fight protecting himself to realize what was happening and keep those Imps away from Damascus before he was poisoned.

“Also, fuck you, do you know how hard it is to find a good chair for a guy my size?”

“Oh my God, fuck you and your chair,” Ace groaned, huffing as he shook his head and leaned back to fully look at the man. He did have a point. About the team thing. Not that damn chair. “I’ll find you another chair when this is over with.” He paused, reluctance entering every part of his body as he glanced between those dangerous, red eyes and the hand being held out to him.

… Ace grabbed it, shaking as firmly as the smaller man could despite all the magic seeped out of him and every part of his being screeching for a break. “Truce. For now. I’m sick of this stalker. But you gotta listen to me when I’m trying to explain a strategy instead of going-” Ace paused, lowering his voice as deep as it could go in a mocking manner of Damascus’s voice, “‘Uh huh, sure. Yeah. Fuck you, Little Boss.’ And I… will try to listen to you too.”

The two shared a meaningful look before Ace stretched his back and groaned. Standing up, he shook some of the plaster out of his blood-soaked hair. “I’m cleaning up. I refuse to look like a mess if we’re going to get jumped again.” Seriously, he could feel blood underneath his fingernails. Not to mention Loran had torn through his jacket and an Imp had damn near managed to rip out one of his earrings in the fight. He’d like a long soak, but with the state of their hideout, he knew he probably wouldn’t get the chance.

A short wait while they recovered and Ace regained his reserves, and they could set out to figure out where the fuck this stalker was and what they were doing with something linking them to Ace’s body.

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

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The Things We Can’t Tell Pete about ix

Pete finds out about you and Colson

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, slut-shaming, sibling fighting

A/N: It’s done! Thank you all for reading this far, hope it’s lived up to expectations.

A/N 2: This is modeled after the (many) fights I’ve had with my siblings 😊

Word Count: 2277

| i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii |

“Just promise me that we tell him soon, okay?”

2 months later

Things had been going steadily with Colson since that first night he spent in your apartment. You’d honestly never felt happier in a relationship, except for the nagging fact that you still hadn’t told Pete. Every time Colson would ask about it, you’d feed him the same line, “I’m just not ready to handle that yet.”

You could tell he was tired of the sneaking around and the same old excuse, but you truthfully weren’t sure what the outcome would be. If Pete was going to be mad at you, you might as well enjoy what you had until then.

And were you enjoying it. You and Colson both had to admit that sneaking around everyone was thrilling. A few weeks into your relationship, he’d brought you on set of one of his music videos to “show you the process.” The process, it turns out, was hooking up in a side room while the crew was on lunch break.

You knew it would be so much better if you could be honest about your relationship. If you could go out on dates publicly or post the cute pictures you take of him on your Instagram, or literally anything a normal couple could do. But for now, you were happy.

Last night, Colson had come over with takeout and a bottle of champagne, setting up a picnic on the floor of your living room. You talked and kissed while different movies played in the background, the bubbly starting to get to your head. You almost let three very important words slip out, but somewhere deep in your brain, common sense still lingered.

You knew you loved him, but you didn’t want to pressure him into saying anything he wasn’t ready for. You wanted him to take the first step. So, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you let the night carry into morning, waking up to a loud knock on your door.

There was no part of you that was about to get up and open the door, so you just snuggled further into Colson and closed your eyes. But then, the lock clicked and the handle squeaked through the small apartment.

Your entire body was immediately on high alert, shaking Colson to wake him up. His tired eyes opened, finding you and shifting to immediate confusion. He opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by the voice of the intruder,

“Hey Y/N, mom wanted me to pick up the-“ The door of your bedroom opened, revealing a stunned Pete. His eyes shifted from you to Colson, and then back to you. He let out a scoff, shaking his head and leaving the room.

You sighed, jumping out of bed and throwing on the closest shirt, that just so happened to belong to Colson. “Pete!” You ran out of the room, grabbing onto his arm and stopping him from leaving, “please jus-“

“You are the most manipulative bitch I have ever met, and I’ve met a lot.” His voice was dark, furious. Your mind was running a mile a minute to figure out how to explain everything. “I asked you for one simple thing, and you can’t even fucking do that?”

Tears began to flood behind your eyes, panic taking over your body. You were already on edge from the earlier fear of someone being in your house, and you were incredibly tired. So combined with Pete yelling at you, even if you did deserve it, it was enough to send you into a spiral of negative thoughts and anger. “If you would act fucking rational when I tried to talk to you about it, maybe you would know that it wasn’t so simple!”

Pete chuckled, “right, sorry. I forgot that you’re a slut who can’t keep her fucking legs closed.”

His words hit you like a thousand punches, so much so that you physically took a step backwards. He took no notice, continuing to pour all his anger out on you. “And you’re a fucking liar. How long have you been whoring around with him? Because if I were to guess, it’d be a couple months by now, right?”

Colson, who was standing by the door to your room, not quite sure what to do with himself, spoke up, “Pete, st-“

“How many of my other friends have you been fucking?” Pete ignored his friend, eyes still seeing red and focusing on you. “I mean, seriously, what is this? Did I do something wrong? Did you want to hurt me? Is this you getting back at me for something, by fucking around with my friends?”

Tears were falling freely from your eyes, embarrassment and hurt coursing through your veins. “You always make everything about you, Pete. You never fucking consider anyone else except your goddamn self.”

You shoved his chest harshly, turning and walking towards your bedroom. You pushed past Colson, who tried to comfort you, slamming the door behind you. You sat on the bed and let everything weigh down on you, Pete’s words ringing in your ears. Part of you was angry with him, telling you that he was in the wrong. But another part of you was angry at yourself for not being a good sister.

Outside the door, Pete had turned his anger towards Colson. “Get out.” Your boyfriend had tried to talk reason with Pete, but your brother was having none of it. “You are not my fucking friend, okay? Not anymore.”

“Pete, you’re being ridiculous, ju-“

“I’m not being fucking ridiculous!” Pete yelled, “that’s my fucking sister. You could fuck anyone else in the goddamn world and you chose to fuck my little sister? That’s fucked, dude.”

Colson was overcome by the urge to defend your relationship, “I fucking love her, Pete. Okay? Goddamn.” For the first time since Pete walked out of your room, he was quiet. “Do you think I would risk my entire relationship with you for some fuck? Do you think she would?”

He didn’t wait for a response, instead turning and walking into your room. The sight of you curled up, knees to your chest, made Colson’s heart break. He climbed on the bed behind you, back to the headboard, and pulled you into his lap. He could feel your body shake with every sob, so he just held you tightly in his arms.

When he could feel you physically start to calm down, he whispered gently, “I love you.”

You’d always hoped whenever you heard those words from him, you’d feel relieved, knowing your relationship was as real to him as it was to you. But right now you were only filled with dread. You didn’t want him to love you, because it made everything seem so much worse. How had you let it get this far?

Before you could respond, Colson continued, “I love you, but I can’t stay with you.” You leaned further into his chest, staring blankly ahead of you. “I want you to be happy, and you won’t be if you lose Pete.”

Your lip quivered as you whispered out, “I love you too.”

Colson sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, before moving to climb out of the bed. Tears blurred your vision as you watched him walk out of the room. Him leaving only made you fall even more in love with him, which hurt like a bitch.

When Colson came into view of Pete, the younger man studied him, but not in anger. “Did you really mean that?”

Colson sighed, “that I love her? Yeah, I do.” Pete was sat on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face to try and calm himself down. “But I’m not about to let you ruin your relationship with her over me. So, if you want me gone, I’m gone.”

Pete was silent for a few moments, and Colson could feel his own heartbeat slowing down, the thought of losing you for good finally hitting him. “How long?”

The older man sat on the other side of the couch, elbows on his knees, “It’s complicated. I asked her out the day after we met but then I broke it off like a week later when you guys got in that fight about it.” Pete nodded to confirm he remembered, “then we tried the whole “friends” thing for like a month, but it obviously didn’t work. Then two months later, here we are.”

Pete was staring blankly at the black TV screen in front of him, absorbing the blonde’s words. “Why didn’t you guys just tell me?” Pete’s voice was weak, guilt and regret slowly sinking into his system.

Colson hung his head, “because she wanted to put this off as long as possible, I think. I tried to get her to talk to you about it but she wasn’t ready. I don’t think I was either, truthfully. I figured once you knew, if it were as bad as she thought it would be, I would lose her.”

“You would really leave if it meant keeping her and me from fighting?” Colson could feel his heart stop at Pete’s words, the expected heartbreak on the horizon.

“If it meant she was happy, yeah.”

Pete rested his head in his hands, sighing deeply, “I’m an asshole.”

This took Colson by surprise, as it was not the response he was expecting. He thought he’d be thrown out immediately. “What do you mean?”

“We have this rule that we don’t fuck each other’s friends because then someone gets hurt and one of us would probably lose a friend. So, I flipped out when she brought it up because I really didn’t want to be put in that situation.” Pete paused, looking up to his friend, “But obviously you’re serious about her and you make her happy.”

Colson replied sincerely, “you know I’m never gonna hurt her, right?”

“I’ll kill you if you do, best friend or not.”

“That’s fair.”

The two men sat in silence for a while before they broke out into laughter, Pete reaching over to shove Colson’s shoulder, “I’m sorry for being a dick.”

Colson nodded, laughing it off, “I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

Pete knocked on your door lightly, not waiting for a response before slowly walking in. You hadn’t moved since Colson left; your eyes still blankly focused on the wall in front of you. He sat down beside you and pulled you into his side, head resting on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean any of that,” his voice was hushed but sincere. “I was hurt and confused and I said things in the moment that I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, “you don’t have to apologize. I deserved it.” When you spoke, your voice was flat, void of all emotion. Just how you felt.

Pete sighed, “no, you didn’t. You tried to talk to me about it months ago and I blew up on you. I can’t blame you for not telling me.”

“It’s fine Pete, it’s over anyways.” You wanted to scream at yourself for falling too easily and at him for making assumptions, but you couldn’t find the strength. “It was more than just sex though, Pete.”

“I know, I was being an asshole.” He squeezed you closer into his side, “I should’ve realized you wouldn’t hook up with one of my friends unless it was serious.”

You whispered, “I didn’t mean for it to get this far.” Your voice was strained, “I wanted to tell you but I knew when you found out that you’d get mad and then something like this would happen. But I really fucking liked him, I just wanted to hold onto it while I could.”

“I was mad. Dude, I was pissed when I walked in.” Pete could feel you tense up at his words, “but you’re my sister and he’s my best friend. I just want you guys to be happy. And I might not like it, but he makes you happy.”

You sighed in relief, “you know I would never try to hurt you, right? Like I didn’t do this to make you mad or put you in a weird spot. It just kind of happened.”

Pete chuckled, “yeah, I know. And I’m sorry for saying all that shit. I was mad, you know how I get.”

You rolled your eyes, “you mean I know that you’re crazy? Yes, I am very aware.”

He shoved your shoulder lightly, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence for a moment before he broke it. “If you two make me third wheel, I swear I’ll kill you both.”

“Have you two met yourselves? I feel like I’m third wheeling you guys when we all hang out,” you giggled, climbing out of the bed. “I think you owe me sushi now.”

Pete gave you a very confused expression, “you snuck around with my best friend behind my back. If anything, you ow me sushi.”

“You called me a slut and a bitch. And you embarrassed me in front of my boyfriend.” You said matter-of-factly, a small smile on your face to let Pete know you’d already started to get over it.

He rolled his eyes, getting up and moving to the living room, “that just makes us even.”

“I’m suing you for emotional damages.” You joked as you followed him, sitting on the couch next to Colson, leaning into him, “the court has determined you owe me sushi.”

Colson looked between you both, confused, “so, you two are good now?” Pete and you nodded, smiling. “Siblings are fuckin’ weird, man.”

Tag list @corpse-babe @sesamepancakes

#Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker angst #mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson imagine #pete davidson

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nerdzzone · 3 years ago

Text

Only For A Moment: December

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: November [part two]

Note: This is the last part of this section of the series! Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged and commented so far, I really appreciate your support and love reading all your thoughts! There will be more, focusing on their lives as the world starts opening up again, but I’m not sure when it will be posted.

-----

December 2020

December was a somewhat bittersweet month.

There were quite a few positives as Christmas always brought plenty of joy - and it brought Scott back from L.A. which was a nice treat for everyone - and there was also the big announcement of an approved vaccine. The roll out wouldn't be immediate, of course, but there was hope on the horizon and a clear sense of relief.

However, there were some negatives as well. I still had my concerns about how well we'd adapt our relationship to the realities of real life and, as excited as I was about Christmas, the holiday season was making me miss my family more than ever.

Chris' family was a great substitute - especially as the case numbers were low enough that we were allowed to have small family gatherings which meant they could all to stay over at our house on Christmas Eve as they had the year before - but I hadn't seen any of my own family in over a year and I missed them terribly. It made me so sad to think of how much Grayson had grown since they last saw him and knowing that I had a little nephew that I'd never even met was starting to break my heart.

In an attempt to ease the ache caused by the distance, we had a video call on Christmas Eve since my family were all together too and I was relieved that our friendly, confident three year old had no problem making conversation with the grandparents and uncle that he could barely remember. It was heart-warming and refreshing to have that time with them even through a screen, but it wasn’t the same and it left me wanting more. I wanted to see them, to hug them, to help my mom make Christmas dinner and beat my brother at the card games we always used to play. I wanted to be less than three thousand miles away and it was starting to weigh on me.

I held it together pretty well, not wanting to put a damper on the happy festivities we were having, but later that evening, when I was alone with my thoughts as I finished tidying up the dishes from dinner, it was suddenly overwhelming. I leaned on the counter as my chin dropped to my chest and the tears finally came. I wasn’t going to let myself have more than a few minutes to wallow in my sadness, but almost as soon as the tears started, a voice from behind me interrupted.

"Whitney?" Lisa quietly announced her presence. "Are you okay?"

I sniffled and quickly wiped my eyes before turning around to see her standing in the doorway with Scott, concern on both of their faces.

"I'm fine," I smiled weakly, but Scott wasn't going to let it go that easy.

"What's wrong?" He asked. "Why are you crying?"

"I just miss my family. It's hard not getting to see them at Christmas," I admitted. "I know I didn't get to see them last year either, but it's been so long now since I've seen them at all. I guess that's just made it harder."

"Oh, honey, that's understandable," Lisa assured me. "I can't imagine how I'd feel if we hadn't been able to be together at all for as long as you've been away from your family."

"Usually I'm fine," I insisted. "I think just seeing them all together and not being there got to me a little bit."

"Well their loss is our gain," Scott informed me. "Because we're really happy to have you here. I know it's not the same, but you're part of our family too."

"I know and I'm so grateful that I have all of you," I rushed to assure them, not wanting anyone to think I wasn't happy to be spending the holidays with them. "It's been so amazing how you've all taken me in and let me be a part of your family. I know things were complicated with Chris and I, but you've always been so good to me."

"You've been a part of this family from the moment we found out about Grayson," Lisa said firmly. "Whatever happened between you and Chris never mattered to us. We're glad you've sorted yourselves out now, but we've always thought of you as family."

Scott nodded in agreement and their kind words brought more tears to my eyes.

"That really means a lot," I choked out, blinking frantically to stop myself from crying anymore. It took a moment to compose myself, but eventually I let out a laugh and wiped my eyes again. "Sorry, I'll stop blubbering soon. I don't think I realized how much I missed them until now and once I get all weepy, it's hard for me to stop."

Lisa crossed the kitchen quickly and pulled me into a hug.

"If you need to let it out, then you go right ahead."

I returned her hug and was about to inform her that it wasn't necessary when Chris - who had been upstairs putting Grayson to bed - appeared in the doorway and interrupted our little moment.

"What are we letting out? Why is Whitney crying?" he asked. "What did you two do to her?"

"We were just letting her know that none of us would judge her if she wants to dump your ass," Scott lied, a smirk on his face. "And now she's crying tears of joy."

"Scott!" Lisa scolded despite the laugh that fell from her lips as she let me slip out of her arms. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"It's not true," I assured Chris even though I was sure he'd figured that out. "I just had a little sad moment. I miss my family so your lovely family members were reassuring me that I'm part of yours."

"You absolutely are," he agreed, coming over and slipping his arm around my waist before pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "I'm sorry that you're sad, but do you remember what I told you last year?"

I'd spent a lot of time trying to block out the memory of last Christmas in the months after it happened and apparently I'd done a good enough job to not know what he was talking about.

"No," I shook my head. "What?"

"There's no time for worryin' at Christmas!" He reminded me. "Let's get you a drink and turn that frown around!"

"Alright, that sounds good," I laughed as I slid out of his grasp. "Lisa, can I get you another glass of wine?"

"Oh, yes, that's actually why we came in here," she smiled. "We were sent to get everyone another round."

"Perfect," Chris grinned as he opened the fridge and started pulling out supplies.

He poured drinks for everyone, but held me back as his brother and mother left the room with as many drinks as they could carry. He pulled me into his arms again before I could pick my drink up off the counter.

"Are you good?" He asked, rubbing his thumb on the exposed skin just above my jeans. "I'm sorry that you miss your family."

"I'm fine," I smiled up at him. "It was just hard seeing them all together tonight and not being there. I do miss them, but I'm okay. I'm happy to be here with you and your family."

"As soon as things get better, we can go and visit," he promised. "I think I'll have to head to L.A. in the near future anyway. Now there's a vaccine and things might start to improve, there's more talk of starting The Grey Man."

While the thought of a trip to L.A. was encouraging in theory, it made my stomach turn. Travelling while the pandemic was still around seemed very stressful - if Scott's journey home for the holidays was anything to go by - and the thought of Chris returning to work was something I wasn’t eager to think about. I knew he was trying to make me feel better though so I stretched up and placed a kiss on his lips.

"That would be nice," I smiled. "I'd like you to get to know my family a bit more."

"I'd like that too," he nodded. "As soon as we can, I promise."

As I slipped out of his grasp, I tried to focus on that hopeful promise and push any sad feelings from my mind.

The rest of that evening was pretty lowkey. We knew that the kids would be up at the crack of dawn as they were the year before and went to bed early in preparation for that. It was a decision that I was very grateful for at six thirty the next morning when Grayson woke us up by launching himself onto our bed.

“Merry Christmas!”

His little voice cut through the silence of the room, ruining any possibility that we might have been able to sleep a little longer.

“Merry Christmas, Gray,” I heard Chris answer as I rolled over. Just as I turned to face him, Chris dragged him down from where he was bouncing on the bed and pulled him against his chest. “Let’s go back to sleep. Okay, buddy?”

We all knew that wasn’t going to happen and Grayson proved it as he giggled and wiggled around, squealing loud enough to ensure that no one in the house could possibly still be asleep.

“Gray! Shhh,” I laughed, pulling him out of Chris’ arms and into my own. “Merry Christmas.”

I kissed the top of his head and he pulled back, grinning up at me.

“Santa came, Mama!”

“Did he?” I gasped. “That’s so exciting!”

“There’s so much presents!”

“Wow, I guess we should go see who they’re for!”

“Probably me,” Chris teased Gray. “I bet they’re all for me and maybe one for your mom.”

“And for me?”

The hope in Grayson’s voice had me interjecting before Chris could tease him any more.

“I’m sure there are some for you,” I assured him. “I bet there’s some for everyone.”

“Even Uncle Scott?”

That question earned a howl of laughter from Chris, but I nodded.

“Even Uncle Scott,” I smiled. “He’s been pretty good this year, hasn’t he?”

“No!” Grayson giggled. “He scared Daddy! And me!”

I laughed, thinking back to the incident he was referencing. Ever since Scott returned from L.A., he and Chris had created some kind of ‘scare war’ where they were competing to see who could scare the other in the best way. They posted the videos on Instagram and their fans loved it, but it had gotten a little out of hand. Scott caught Chris off guard when he came home from a walk with Dodger the day before and got an excellent reaction from him, but he didn’t realize that Grayson was with him too. The poor kid was terrified and cried for almost fifteen minutes afterwards. Scott had been incredibly apologetic and tried to make it up to him, but apparently Gray wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving.

“He did scare us and that wasn’t very nice,” Chris agreed. “He’s probably on the naughty list!”

“Yeah!” Grayson grinned at his dad. “Let’s go see!”

He scrambled off the bed almost as quickly as he’d climbed up in the first place. Once the sound of his heavy footsteps faded as he ran down the hall, Chris pulled me into his arms.

“Merry Christmas, Win.”

“Merry Christmas,” I smiled up at him. “Crazy to think that we woke up like this a year ago too.”

“Almost exactly like this,” Chris smirked. “Until you snuck out of bed as if I wouldn’t know we’d been cuddling all night.”

My jaw dropped slightly.

“You knew?”

“Of course, I knew!” Chris chuckled. “I’d been awake for almost half an hour before you woke up, but it felt so nice cuddlin’ you that I didn’t wanna move.”

“That’s so embarrassing,” I laughed, burying my head in his chest as he assured me that it wasn’t. “But it’s so strange to think that if there hadn’t been that snow storm and I hadn’t stayed over that night, maybe we wouldn’t even be here now.”

“Do you really think that?”

“It’s hard to say,” I admitted. “I think we would have ended up quarantining together, but if we hadn’t had that slip up at Christmas, we wouldn’t have had the same incentive to talk about things during lockdown.”

“But that slip up showed that the feelings were there,” Chris pointed out. “So, maybe it would have happened while we were locked in this big ol’ house anyway.”

“I like to think so,” I smiled. “Either way, I’m happy it did.”

“Me too,” Chris placed a kiss on the top of my head as the sounds of excited children floated down the hall towards us. “I guess we should get up before they come looking for us.”

I reluctantly agreed and we dragged ourselves out of bed to join the festivities.

Christmas morning was much the same as the year before. The kids were overwhelmed with excitement at all the gifts, but very grateful and appreciative of everything they received. Chris bought me some new cameras that I’d mentioned wanting to buy before my work picked up again, but it was my gift to him that I was really excited about.

I watched as he opened the box that I’d carefully wrapped and pulled out the photo album that I’d put inside.

“Wow,” Chris murmured as he flipped through the pages with a soft smile on his face. “Are these all of me and Gray?”

“There’s some of Dodger too, but yeah, mostly it’s you and Gray,” I informed him. “I just thought, it’s been such a crazy year and there’s been a lot of stress, but there were some good moments too and I wanted you to have some memories of those.”

“This is amazing…”

He flipped through the pages that I’d filled - in order by month - of all the pictures that I’d taken since the start of the pandemic. There were some of him helping Grayson ride his bike, some of them reading together and doing puzzles, some of them playing in the pool, some of them raking leaves in the fall, carving pumpkins at Halloween, cooking dinner together, curled up on the couch watching movies and pretty much every other day to day activity that they did together through the lockdown. I was amazed by how many pictures I’d taken when I started compiling them, but I knew it was a gift that he would appreciate.

“That’s one of my favourites,” I giggled, pointing to a picture of bath time one night when Chris had fashioned them both beards made out of bubbles.

“I love them all,” he smiled, looking up at me with glassy eyes. “Thank you, Winnie. Thank you so much.”

I leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lips as Lisa moved to stand behind her son and sneak a peek at the album.

“That’s such a wonderful gift, Whitney,” she gushed. “Those pictures are beautiful.”

“Thank you. If you look through it later and pick out your favourites, I can make you some copies.”

“That would be great!” She grinned. “I would love that, if you don’t mind.”

I assured her that it would be no trouble and made notes of a few that I thought she might want as Chris and I spent the next half an hour flipping through the album and reminiscing on the happy moments we shared as a family during a very dark year. It was a rather odd feeling that such a bleak time had also been such a happy one for us. I was beyond grateful that our families had been relatively untouched by the virus plaguing the world and was more than happy to join Scott in his toast to all our continued good health when he brought out the mimosas as soon as all the presents were unwrapped.

The rest of the day was filled with plenty of love and appreciation of our little family and the opportunity to be together. As we had the year before, we called all the relatives who lived too far away to join us before spending most of the day playing games, drinking fancy Christmas cocktails and eating delicious food. We had learned something from the previous years celebrations though and didn’t let ourselves get quite as intoxicated as we had back then.

All in all it was a lovely day and my heart was feeling very full by the time we said our goodnights and headed to our room that evening. I was refreshed by the opportunity for such prolonged socialization and had a little extra pep in my step as I pranced off to the ensuite bathroom to brush my teeth.

However, when I came back out, I was surprised to find Chris sitting on the edge of our bed. He glanced up when I walked in, a soft smile on his face, but there was an air of nervousness around him that immediately put me on edge.

"You okay?"

My question was simply met with a nod as he beckoned me over. He grabbed my hand as soon as I was close enough and kept me standing in front of him.

"I have one more present for you," he informed me after a moment of quiet. "But I want to preface it with an explanation so you don't freak out."

I laughed nervously at that statement, wondering what kind of gift could possibly make me freak out. A car? A new house? A puppy? My mind was instantly running wild.

"Okay..."

"I know you're still nervous about things going back to normal and how we'll handle it - I can see it on your face every time it gets mentioned," he started, his words so far offering no explanation. "I've been trying to think of something that I can do to reassure you, something to prove just how committed I am to you because I am all in here, Winnie. From the moment I met you, I knew you were something special and it sounds a little cheesy and over the top, but you really are the love of my life. It took a little soul-searching and some brainstorming, but I eventually came up with something I think might help us both..."

He paused then and reached behind his back, pulling out a little box that made my heart start pounding in my chest.

"Oh my god," I gasped out as he slid from the bed to kneel on one knee in front of me.

He opened the box and looked up at me with hope written all over his face.

"Will you marry me, Winnie?" He asked, the question bringing tears to my eyes. I was biting my lip to hold myself together and didn't realize that I hadn't answered until he launched into some further reassurances. "We don't have to get married right away - we can wait as long as you want - but taking this step, making this extra promise and commitment, I thought it might give us both some comfort."

I was still stunned, completely blindsided by his proposal, but I took in his words and appreciated his reasoning as a grin slid onto my face.

"Yes, Chris! Yes, I will marry you."

Chris visibly relaxed at my acceptance and, with noticeably shaky hands, he took the ring from the box and slid it on my finger. As soon as it was safely in place, he sprung to his feet and pulled me into a breathtaking kiss.

"Holy shit," he let out a deep breath, moments later when we finally parted. "That was terrifying. I thought for sure you were going to turn me down and tell me that I'm insane."

"You kinda are," I smiled. "And everyone else is definitely going to think we've lost our minds."

"Well, we've never done things the traditional way and it just makes sense, doesn't it?" It was a question, but he didn't wait for an answer. "It hit me when we were talking in New York and you made a joke about me proposing, that it wasn't a bad idea, that it was something I wanted to do. I know we've technically been together for less than a year, but I haven't wanted anyone else since the day I met you so what's the point in waiting? I'm not gonna make decisions based on what everyone else thinks we should do - that would be crazy."

I smiled at his anxious rambling and stretched up to place another kiss on his lips.

"That would be crazy," I agreed. "And I don't care what they think. I don't want to be with anyone else either."

He matched my smile as he squeezed me even closer.

"And I mean it, we don't have to rush into anything or start planning a wedding right away," he assured me. "But I thought this extra step might make you feel better about things changing. I'm in this one hundred percent and I'll do whatever it takes to make this work for us."

I didn't need a ring to know that Chris loved me and wanted to make this work and being engaged wouldn't make any of the challenges that were ahead of us any less difficult to face. But there was something about how fearless he was in making such a commitment to me and something about the way he was so determined to reassure me of just how invested he was in our relationship that did put me at ease and fill me with confidence.

The fact that despite all the things we'd been through and all the things we still needed to work on - including my own insecurities - Chris was willing to marry me and make that lifelong commitment had my heart about ready to burst in my chest.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes too," I assured him. "I love you so much, Chris."

"I love you too," he grinned. "And god, I'm so relieved you said yes."

"Of course I'd say yes," I insisted. "You know I love you."

"I do, but I also know you're worried," he reminded me. "And I didn't want you to think I was using a proposal as a band-aid or something. I know that it won't always be easy and we'll have to work hard."

"We will," I agreed. "But now, at least when you're away, I'll have this pretty ring to remember you by."

I pulled my arm back from around his waist to look down at my finger. I was grateful that it wasn't a massive, showy ring, but it was beautiful and seemed fairly unique.

"It's alexandrite," he informed me. "It's one of the birthstones for June which I thought was fitting for both of us. I was gonna use Gray's birthstone, but apparently April is diamond and I wanted something different. There's diamonds on either side of the big stone though so he's in there too."

"It's beautiful," I smiled as he grinned proudly.

"I didn't think you'd want something too over the top, but I wanted it to be something nice."

"Well, you nailed it," I assured him. "I couldn't have picked a nicer ring myself."

He captured my lips in another kiss and I leaned into it, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

"Have you told anyone?" I asked once he pulled away. "Does my family know?"

"I told them last night," he nodded. "I called them back after I tucked Grayson in to let them know. And my whole family knows because I was stressed about the whole thing and couldn't keep it to myself. Oh, and Hannah because she scares me and I thought she'd be mad if she didn't know."

I laughed, letting my head rest against his chest.

"She would have been mad," I agreed. "But I can't believe she scares you, she's like a little chihuahua. She's all bark, no bite."

"She cried on the phone when I told her," he admitted, earning another bubble of laughter from me. "She assured me they were tears of joy, but swore me to secrecy about it so let's keep that between us."

"Oh, no way!" I giggled. "That is too good not to tease her about."

"Well, it'll be your loss if she kills me."

"Again, all bark and no bite," I reminded him. "Did your family know you were going to ask me tonight?"

"Yeah," he nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "I think they're all waiting in the living room to see what you said.”

“Then let’s go share the good news,” I smiled, moving to link my arm with his. “Then we can come back in here and celebrate properly.”

I shot him a wink to emphasize what I meant and he let out a low growl of approval before dragging me out of our bedroom.

Of course, his family were thrilled that I’d said yes, even though it didn’t seem like any of them were particularly surprised. I called my family and Hannah as well before sharing a celebratory drink with my soon to be in-laws.

But it wasn’t until we laid, curled up in bed after our more private celebrations that it really started to hit me.

Sure, some people would think we were moving a bit too fast and they might have been right, if we had any intention of actually getting married right away. But for us, it was just another layer of reassurance. The ring on my finger was like a little security blanket, a memento of support for when things got hard and our schedules grew busier. It was a reminder that we were determined to make this work no matter what happened and it had me feeling much more hopeful about the new year ahead of us.

Things would change, there was no doubt about that, but we could get through it and come out stronger in the end. I knew it wouldn’t always be easy and there would be times when we felt like giving up, but with a little love and perseverance, I knew our relationship - and eventually our marriage - would only benefit and grow from our efforts.

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99 @mjey12

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fluff #once bitten/more hearts #only for a moment

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years ago

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Nick Jakoby x Reader Oneshot- (Bright)

“Oink, oink over here piggy!”

The group of men standing in the doorway made you grimace. Damn they pissed you off. Nick walked pass them with his head lowered, trying his best to ignore the rude remarks. You’d just clocked in, and this had become a regular. Their tauntings. You really wanted to body slam all four of them. But you restrained yourself. “Don’t bother with them Nick, their dick heads. “ It was no secret that they hated the male Orc. Nick was by far the sweetest man on the force, and he wasn’t even a man. Which really said something for the unit.

“I’m used to it, it’s fine.” you frowned. He shouldn’t have to get used to it. He was just as hardworking and diligent as any other cop. You nudged his shoulder with a smile as you walked with him. “Cheer up, in a couple of hours we have that awful dinner to attend. You have worse things ahead." Nick shook his head with a shy smile. “Is that supposed to make me feel better.”

“Not really.” with a small giggle, you met your partner. Nick headed over to Ward, and your eyes wandered, just admiring him. You had no idea why people gave him such a hard time. It’s true that Orcs sided with the enemy in the past, but that was thousands of years ago. The world had changed so much since then, apparently not in the ways you hoped.

Nick was so misunderstood and underappreciated. He had so much to offer if he was just given a chance. Not to mention he was a total sweetheart. Pretty handsome too. The final thought erupts a blush to your cheek, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by your partner.

“What’s got you all red in the face?” Jacob, your partner raises an eyebrow, and your face gets darker. “Nothing let’s get going.” he doesn’t quite believe you, and you try to steal one last look at Nick before you have to get going, but Jacob catches the action, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Shit I knew it!!” His yell catches the attention of everyone in a five mile radius and as the officers stare, you feel Nick’s stare follow. You cower, smacking Jacob who just waves everyone off. When their gazes have diverted, you glare at the man before you. He raises his hands defensively. “Sorry, sorry didn’t mean to cause a scene. Not everyday you discover your partner has a crush. Damn Victoria owes me twenty bucks!”

“Y-You betted on my love life with your wife!!”

“Umm, hell yeah I did. Why are you even surprised?” he was right, you shouldn’t have been. You just roll your eyes, and soon the both of you are headed to the squad car. Jacob is still wearing that smug grin as you jump into the vehicle. “So when are you gonna ask him out?”

“I-I’m not!”

“You’re kidding, you have to (Y/N)!” Jacob has always been majorly supportive, but you’re still a little anxious. Your head lowers. “Y-You don’t think it’s weird that I..I mean I don’t care if anyone says anything but I just..I..” The way you're struggling with your words, it’s not hard for Jacob to understand. “Listen, I’d never judge you for something like that. We’re partners (Y/N), practically family now. And honestly Nick is awesome, dude brings me scones every Tuesday cause he passes at my favorite shop on his way to work. He’s a hero in my book.” He lets out a few fake sobs to get his point across and you just groan at his childishness.

“Seriously though, Nick’s a really good guy. Everyone treats him like shit, yet he comes back and tells them to be safe. If it were me, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it that well. He could easily quit, probably just become the monster everyone keeps accusing him of being. But he wakes up and he does the job, all because he loves it, he generally cares about protecting people who don’t give a shit about him. It’s inspiring to watch. There aren’t many people like left in this world (Y/N), if you find someone like that, you should do what you can to hold onto them.” His finger ran over his wedding band, a smile playing on his lips. “That’s what I did.” His smile makes your face brighten, and you nod.

“I’ll do my best. “

So maybe your partner wasn’t a complete idiot.

That afternoon when you get home, you’re on a mission. Jacob’s advice is ringing in your head. He’s right. So you’ve decided this annual police will be your best yet. You were gonna go all out. You rarely ever get dressed up, too accustomed to dark suit pants and uncomfortable belts. You wanted something to catch Nick’s attention, then maybe it would give you the confidence to finally own up to your feelings and ask the guy out. You jump into the shower.

“Time to knock them dead. “

~Three hours later~

“Quit fidgeting, you look fine.” Ward smacks Nick’s hands away from the tie. He’s been messing with it for the last ten minutes, mostly out of nervousness. This is his first time he’s worn a tux. He feels a bit ridiculous, but with Ward’s assurance, he can only hope he’s pulling it off. They stand at a table making small talk, mostly Ward.

Nick offers a word here and there. By the looks he keeps getting, he can tell that his opinion isn’t really wanted by the people there. So he busies himself with watching the other people mingling around him. Everyone looks relaxed, sipping wine, helpling themselves to food. He’s never been a fan of this. Every year they hold these little banquets to treat the new recruits and commend exemplary performances throughout the unit. It’s a fun event for the most part. But his fellow coworkers never rest with their harsh opinions. It isn’t even verbal, just by the looks he knows.

The sound of a few whistles catches his attention. There’s a small commotion at the doorway. He vaguely makes out the edge of purple, and that’s when he notices the man that walks in. But that isn’t what captures his eyes, it’s the woman he’s escorting on his arm.

Golden orbs widen, and his ears twitch a bit too quickly. He wants to control it, but it’s hard, because the smile that lands in his direction knocks the wind right out of him. “Wow, your girlfriend cleans up nice.” Ward whispers.

“S-She’s not my girlfriend.” he grumbles back. Now that you’re clear in his view, he can fully admire your dress. It’s a velvet luxe maxi dress. The color is a beautiful lavender. Thin straps at the shoulder, low cut displaying just enough cleavage. And a slit that stops mid thigh, with matching heels to complete the whole look. Your hair is loose, and a very light amount of makeup, highlighting your features. Nick thought you were gorgeous before, but somehow you’ve outdone yourself. He can’t look away, and he really should before you take notice.You settle at a table not too far from him, pulling the focus of a few males present there. With polite smiles and little words, Nick feels a bit envious.

“Now’s your chance hotshot. Ask her out before one of those hyenas beat you to it.” Nick wants to convince Ward that it’s useless, there’s no way you’d go for someone like him. You’re completely different in every sense of the word. He doesn’t have a chance. As he opens his mouth he’s about to lay out his case, but a sweet lavender scent fills his nostrils, and he wants to question the origin, just then he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns, and the heavenly aroma hits him tenfold. Somehow you’ve walked over without him realizing. He’s supposed to be more aware, he’s a cop after all. Your glossed lips turn into a smile as you bat your eyes.

“Nick..do you wanna maybe dance?”

The slow sound filling the room, doubled with the couples now filling up the floor catches his eyes. He’s tongue tied, because you can’t really be asking him. Out of all the guys there, why him? Yes, the both of you have been friends for months now, but he’s sort of assumed your kindness was due to pity more than anything else.

You're still watching him hopefully, and Ward gives an encouraging push. He stumbles, grabbing your shoulders lightly. When he’s steadied himself, he pulls back. “He’d love to.” Ward says. Nick doesn’t get a chance to put in a word for himself, because you smile, taking his hand and pulling him to the center of the dance floor. Nick is staggering behind, trying not to knock into anyone. When you get to your desired area, you turn back to him. Nick is stiff, the both of you are just standing there, a number of eyes on you. “I-I should probably just go, everyone is staring and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” His eyes lift, and the way you look at him, it makes his heart hammer. What has he done to deserve your kindness, he has no idea.

Deciding that you need to be the one to make a move, you take his hands and place them around your waist as you step closer. You can feel the slight tremble in his palms that are pressed to your body now. It’s so adorable. He’s still stiff as a board, but you know he’s trying. He’s probably so touch starved. It hurts to just think about it. Your hands are resting on his chest lightly, and you sigh, swaying with the music. Nick swallows, he’s a bit taller than you, and he’s trying his best not to look down directly at you. With you so close it’s hard for him not to pass out at how amazing you smell. Your hands slide up, going around his neck. His eyes finally meet yours, and the meaning in your eyes, it triggers something in him. “Nick..” you’re whispering, and it breaks his train of thought. “Yeah.” you lick your lips, and he wishes he could just kiss those plump lips. They are begging to be touched.

“Do you possibly want to-” a hand pulling you from the Orc in your arms makes you jerk. Nick looks just as surprised. The officer standing between the both of you, suddenly it makes sense, and you're pissed. “Run along pig face, she’s tired of you.” Pollard rests a hand on your waist, pulling you into his side, and you shove him back. “You’re the one who’s interrupting, what the hell we were dancing!!” you're enraged. Not only has he messed up your plan to finally ask Nick out, but he’s also insulted him. Nick can see the displeasure on your face, and he’s about to suggest that maybe you leave. The last thing he wants is for you to get caught in the middle of this. He could take Pollard’s insults any day. But he doesn’t want any negative attention drawn to you.

“Come on you don’t have to give anymore charity, we all know why you do this. You feel bad for little piggy here. Don’t waste your evening on him, how about you come with me. Have some real fun.” It’s almost laughable that he thinks you’ll drop everything and just run off with him. Nick now looks less sure of himself, a bit defeated. It’s then you realize that he must have assumed the same. You’re being nice out of some foolish obligation. You open your mouth to assure him, but stop. This time, words may not be enough. It’s time to take action. So with two swift strides you grab Nick by the lapels of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss. Pollard gapes, and Nick is tense and wide eyed.

“I’m dreaming…” He has to be. You couldn’t be..kissing him. Your eyes are closed, and you still have a firm hold on his clothing. A few more seconds pass and you pull back slowly. Your eyes move from Nick’s soft lips, to his topaz eyes. The bewildered expression is highly anticipated.

“If you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.” you take Nick’s hand, leaving a stunned Pollard, and a few surprised officers. You don’t even look back, you do however pass Jacob on your way out of the building. He’s grinning probably wider than you. When the door snaps shut behind you and you're free of the intrusive stares, you look at Nick. He’s still in a mid state of shock. “I’m sorry..” you mutter.

Now that the events play back, you’re bashful. You didn’t even get to ask him out. Nick collects himself slowly, shaking his head. “N-No it’s fine.” An awkward silence follows. You want to say something to cut the tension, but Nick interrupts. “I should take you home.” He doesn't look at you when he says that, and now you're a bit scared that you’ve crossed a line and misread all the signs. Self conscious and mortified, you just nod. Nick’s car is parked close, as he opens the door, you jump inside. He does the same, pulling off.

The ride is anything but pleasant. It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop. Nick is staring ahead, and the look he wears is unreadable.

“I ruined everything.” You should have never done that, especially since you weren’t even sure of any feelings. He must be completely disgusted with you. You're thankful that the ride isn’t long, because in a few minutes he pulls up. You don’t make any kind of eye contact, just whisper a thanks, opening the door and stepping out.

You want to cry, how did the night turn so horrible that quickly. As you close the vehicle door, you all but sprint to your house, taking out your keys and opening your front door. You don’t even bid him goodbye, you just focus on getting inside. You do, stepping in and leaning back as you shut the door. “Idiot!” you scold yourself. “I’m an idiot..” you bite your lip. How would you ever face him again.

The knock at your door makes you jump, and you turn, opening the door hesitantly. You peek outside, a bit surprised. “N-Nick..” He’s staring at you, maybe wanting answers for all that happened. You step back, letting him inside. He’s the one that closes the door this time.

“Why did you kiss me?” Blunt, to the point. From the look, you know he’s just as conflicted by all of this as you. Now might be your last chance. You’ve already kissed him, what was the harm in telling him the truth. It might help you both.

“Because I..It’s what I’ve wanted to do for months now. “ you confess. His forehead creases in astonishment. “Nick I’ve..I’ve had it bad for you for so long and it makes my blood boil every time I hear the way they talk to you! You’re so caring and selfless and goddamn hot to me and I wish everyone could see how amazing you are if they’d just give you an opportunity.” you’re rambling, but you don’t care. “That jackass Pollard ruined everything I had this whole night planned out, I was gonna wow you with this dress and then finally ask you out but then he came with his false macho bullshit and it just pissed me off and that’s why I grabbed you like that to show him that this isn’t some charity I actually am crazy about you and I..” you heave, for a minute there you forgot you should breathe. “I’m so crazy about you Nick.”

He’s still just standing there, and now you’ve given him a chance to speak. From his expression, he doesn’t know what to say. You were so out of his league.

“I don’t understand why you would..why..” that self conscious look, you’ve seen it many times.

“Nick, I want you.” he stops, eyes opening a bit wider now. “I’m tired of you being so hard on yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of. “ you take a step forward, and he doesn’t move a muscle. “Truthfully, when I saw you earlier in this tux, I almost passed out. “ your hands reach out, going back to where they had been before Pollard stepped in. Resting right on his broad shoulders. Another thing about him that made you swoon was his build. He was nicely muscular. It just messed you up. He needs a moment to gather his breath. “Nick do you..want me?”

“Of course!” his shout, as unexpected as it is, it makes you smile. He looks away at how desperate it sounded. “That’s good..” you don’t clarify, just lean in, and this time when your lips meet, he still doesn’t really prepare. It’s so tender, almost tentative. When he finally convinces his mind that it’s real, his hands wrap around your body, pulling you in. You sigh, and Nick responds, returning the kiss. Your head is in the clouds, You feel like you’re dreaming, if that’s the case you want to stay forever. You open your mouth, urging him to do the same, he does, taking control.

You moan when he pushes you up against the door, now kissing you hungrily. One of his hands drift down to your bare thigh, and another needy sound releases. You can’t stop it and you don’t want to. His free hand presses to the door, and your hands grip at the clothes on his back. You’re trying to pull him forward, and he complies, pressing into you. It feels so great, his firm body trapping you there. There’s a low growl that comes from Nick, and somehow you’re even more turned on. Your hands have ventured back to the front of his tux, unbuttoning it quickly. It falls open and your fingers slip under the jacket, reveling in the taunt muscles.

Gosh does he feel amazing. Nick feels you start to pull at the shirt, he forces himself to part. When you’ve separated, you’re both flushed and panting. Nick still believes maybe he’s at home sleeping somehow. The new scent that fills the air nearly makes his knees buckle. Your lust is so prominent, he can almost taste it. Your chest is still heaving, but you're slowly coming down from your high, so is Nick. It’s then you realize what was about to happen if not for Nick’s pause. You feel a bit embarrassed now. You hug yourself, blushing a deep red.

“S-Sorry, guess I kind of got a bit crazy..” Nick smiles. “You don’t have to apologize.” He’d be stupid to make you feel bad about such a thing. He was just as equally responsible. Fact is, it took everything in him to stop himself. As much as he wants this to progress, he also wants more than just a heated night with you. He wants so much more.

“(Y/N), I’d..really like to take you out sometime..” he mumbles it, still fairly insecure about it all. The way your eyes light up though, his fears are all gone. You don’t respond, and he doesn’t need one because you jump into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek, grinning like a child on Christmas.

“You don’t even have to ask, it’s a yes.” you whisper in his ear. He holds you close, breathing in your scent. He wants to lock that away forever. He wants this to last forever. For now though, just being with you now, it’s enough.

#nick jakoby #bright #ward #love #orcs #fairies #elves #magic #acceptance #friends to lovers #insecure #cops #LAPD #parties #confessions #nick jakoby x reader #friendship #dorks in love

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outerbanks-fandom · 3 years ago

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Cigarette Daydreams - JJ Maybank x female reader

Description: this imagine is based on the song ‘cigarette daydreams’ by Cage the Elephant.

warnings: swearing, violence is you squint, trigger warning it can get a bit graphic. This imagine can be very sad please read with caution.

Word Count: 1,434

PLEASE DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR ANYTHING THIS IS MINE AND YOU DON”T HAVE PERMISSION TO UPLOAD IT ANYWHERE ELSE.

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Funny how it seems like yesterday as i recall, you were looking out of place.

Something was off with JJ. Normally when we were all hanging out as a group he was constantly touching me. If it was him leaning against me while i played with his hair or even just as simple as having his hand in mine. But, today he was next to me but it was like he wasn’t here. His replies were monotone, his hands never left the beer bottle or cigarette. He didn’t even look at me for longer than 2 seconds.

It was like he was a stranger, when he did reply it would all get awkward. “Hey baby, wanna go get some more beers with me?” he shrugged and got up. Walked ahead of me, something he only ever did when we argued. Any other time he was right next to me, holding my hand or his arm wrapped around me.

We walked inside the chateau's kitchen area and he grabbed the fridge door, “Jay, what’s wrong” again he shrugged. “JJ! what is wrong, words please”

“Can’t i just have a off day damn, not everyone is fucking perfect Y/n!” I scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he threw one of the beer bottles at the wall behind me. I never ducked so fast in my life. “I mean I’m fucking sick of you expecting me to be someone I'm not. Well I hate to break it to you but I have fucking negative feeling. I have off days more than I have happy days, but for you I try and hide it. I’m suck of it! I’m not perfect and I hate to break it to you but neither are you!” I felt tears in my eyes but momma didn’t raise no bitch.

“Who the fuck told you to be perfect? and when did I say I was? I practically beg you to tell me when something is wrong, but no. JJ Maybank has to put on the tough guy act and pretend like you do shit for me? No JJ you act this because you’re terrified of the truth.” If anyone walked into this room right now the pure anger radiating off JJ and I would of sent them right back outside. “And what’s that Y/n, what’s the truth?”

“That the big and bad JJ Maybank is actually a broken teenage boy.” he had a sick laugh leave his mouth. “Fuck you Y/n Y/l/n, fuck you. You need to leave because if this keeps going like this I'll do something we ‘ll both regret.”

The color drained from my face and I think he even surprised himself. “You... you would hit me?” his hands ran through his hair pulling as the roots. “Like I said, I'm fucked up. I’m not perfect.” “I’m not either but I still would never put my hands on you.”

He quickly walked up to me hands still in his hair. I felt fear cursing through my veins but I wouldn’t show him that. “Do it JJ, show me that your no better than the very man you’re scared to be like.” granted what I said was fucked up but it made him realize what he was doing. He didn’t respond he just looked at me with regret in his eyes. I grabbed my bag that was on the counter and walked back out the door. “Call me when you figure your shit out. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about whatever is worth threatening your girlfriend.”

That last line caused him more pain than any hit he’s ever taken.

Gathered up your things and slipped away...

JJ broke down the second she walked away. Thousands of thoughts was running through his mind. ‘I was gonna hurt her’ ‘she hates me’ ‘I ruined everything’ he looked at the wall and saw the wet stains from the beer and followed it the dripping stains and saw the broken glass. ‘that could of hit her.’ ‘I could of caused the person I love the most physical pain’ ‘I caused her emotional pain’

Y/n walked out the chateau and immediately grabbed her skateboard off the porch and went home without an explanation. She texted Kiera telling her she started to feel sick and needed to go home. She got home about 15 minutes later, and immediately went in her room to get my stuff together and shower.

She thought about all the things that went down and what could of gone down. She loved JJ with her whole heart and wasn’t ready to let him go but if she had to worry that every time they fought, he would hit her.

Cigarette

Whenever she got out the shower she checked her phone and had 3 missed calls from Kiera, 1 from pope, missed texts from John B and 10 missed calls, 7 missed texts from JJ. Deciding to text John B back first.

hey, are you okay? JJ is really scared since you didn’t answer anyone’s calls

no pressure but please just at least read these so we know you’re okay

switching over to JJ’s texts she read

Baby i’m so sorry

please baby, i need to know you’re okay

i know i fucked up

i just need to know you’re safe

please y/n i love you

you are by far the greatest thing to ever happen to me, i lied y/n. you are perfect in my eyes your couldn’t be more perfect. You’re perfect for me. I would never put my hands on you.

baby please just answer the phone

JJ was freaking the fuck out. It was 2 two in the morning and you rode home on you’re skateboard. “Please answer you’re fucking phone baby, if you don’t call in the next 10 minutes I'm coming to your house.”

Daydream

Y/n texted never answered their text . She actually didn’t even go home that night. That’s what JJ imagined happened when she left that night. He was worried sick though he stayed up all night thinking you were just asleep or mad. That was all until six o’clock the next day he got a phone call that will play in his head forever.

His whole world collapsed, you didn’t make it home that night. You didn’t even make is a mile away from the chateau before a group of drunk kook’s went on a joyride and didn’t see the teenage girl riding her skateboard and texting her friend back.

The bastards didn’t even get out and check on you, they drove away as fast as they could. You were there all night and it wasn’t until a guilty conscience ridden teenage boy went to the same spot to make sure you were gone but when he got there he saw your lifeless body. He immediately called 911, hoping there's was a chance they could save you.

JJ destroyed everything in site. John B didn’t even stop him, he understood. Kiera and Sarah was with your mom while she cried in your room. Pope was staring at the wall at the chateau.

“She died thinking I hated her! She fucking died! She promised me forever than she fucking dies.” JJ needed a hug from you and that was impossible. “JJ you can’t be mad at her because she passed away” pope made the mistake of saying mid breakdown for JJ. “No Pope she didn’t just pass away, some piece of shit kook’s took her away. They didn’t even have the decency to call for help until the next fucking day. She could still be alive, it was up the fucking road and I didn’t know. I could of saved her!”

JJ’s world was over, you were far too young to not be alive. You had so much life to live, you wanted to go to college, you wanted to get married, live somewhere with snow, have kids and 2 dogs. JJ wanted to give you all that but now he can’t.

He walked into the room he stayed in at John B’s and was immediately met with the picture frame you gave him for your two year anniversary. It held two pictures, one from when you first got together. It was you two on the beach during one of the many keggers y’all attended together. He arm wrapped around your waist while you hugged his. The other one was you two on John B’s boat, you sitting on the boat floor and his back against your chest, the biggest smile plastered on his face as you looked at him with pure love and admiration. He saw the tears hit the picture frame.

“You were only seventeen”

#jj mayback x reader #outerbanks #jj maybank obx #rudy pankow #jj maybank #female character #pogues #outer banks imagine #john b outer banks #sarah cameron #pope outer banks

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7-wonders · 4 years ago

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Hardships Unnumbered

Summary: The quest to save Julia begins, but not everything is as it seems in this mystical land.

Word Count: 1969

A/N: Hi friends! This is the second chapter of my Labyrinth King!Michael AU fic, "It's Only Forever." I'll link the first chapter down below. I hope that you enjoy and, as always, likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

(also there's a couple of little easter eggs/one big one and I'm really excited to see who figures them out)

Chapter One

Though you put your hands out in front of you to brace yourself, it doesn’t help you to discern which way is up and which way is down until you finally stop rolling. With a groan, you shove yourself up to your feet. Your palms are scraped and slightly bleeding, your jeans are torn at the knees, and leaves and twigs now adorn your hair. All in all, this is not the way you had hoped to start this mission to get Julia back.

Now that you’re already at the bottom of the hill, it’s easier to decide how to start this jaunt through the Labyrinth. After all, you certainly can’t go back up, and the solid ground beneath your feet only leads one way. The shining spires of Michael's castle at the center of the maze, closer than you had thought, rise high above you and act as a compass. All factors considered, you can definitely run this in a couple of hours. Then, once you’re both safely out of here, your first order of business is to call the cops.

Your confidence begins to fade the longer that you walk along with the wall separating you from the inside of the maze. There’s no door, or arch, or opening anywhere to be seen. Turning around, you look back to see if you’ve missed the entrance. Instead of finding one, movement catches your eye. A man, tall and willowy, cries out victoriously at something trapped under his foot. He seems to be your best bet, and you decide to approach him.

“Excuse me?” you say.

The man startles, obviously not expecting to see anybody here. “Oh!” he cries in surprise, looking at you as if you’re the first person to ever cross his path. His hair is bleached to look almost white, and he has a pair of oddly-shaped sunglasses with purple lenses covering his eyes. The checkered jumpsuit, complete with ruffles on the shoulders, both does and doesn’t go with the sunglasses. You’re not quite sure why the people that live here dress so funny, but it’s making you feel underdressed.

“Which way do I go to get into the Labyrinth?”

“Now, why would I tell you that?”

“Because you must have come from there,” you pause, looking down at the man’s foot when you hear a squeaking, “oh! Is that a fairy?”

“Mhm.” Your childlike wonder is abruptly swept out from under you when he kicks the small, blue creature into the forest.

“Why did you do that? That wasn’t very nice!”

“Go ahead and pick one up,” the man says, “you’ll see how nice they are when you’re missing a finger.” As if to prove his point, a fairy flies up to you and hisses in your face, showing off two rows of razor sharp teeth. “What is it that you wanted, again?”

You huff. “To know which way to go to get into the Labyrinth.”

“Did you try asking it?”

“I’m sorry, what?” You roll your eyes in disbelief before mocking him. “‘Labyrinth, please let me in!�� Is that what I should say?”

He doesn’t have to respond, for a sudden rumbling has you turning around. To your shock, there’s suddenly an open space in the wall that hadn’t been there just a second ago.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m Gallant.” You want to tell him that you weren’t guessing his name, you don’t even want to know his name, but he continues. “Who are you?”

“(Y/N).”

“Ah, that’s right.” So this is one of Michael’s ‘subjects?’ After all, if your dreams have been right (and you’re still half-convinced this is just the elaborate scheme of some unhinged weirdo and not magic, despite what you just saw), then that means that Michael is also the ruler of the Underworld. With that logic, Gallant must be some sort of a demon. If that’s the case, you certainly don’t want anything to do with him.

“Well,” you say awkwardly, “I’m going to go now. Running on limited time, and all that.”

“You’re just going to go in there? Alone?”

“Yep.”

“But--but the Labyrinth leads to the Labyrinth King!”

“That’s kind of the whole reason why I’m here.”

“You’re going to get hurt in there.” Gallant gasps. “You could even die in there!”

You set your shoulders, walking to the hole in the wall and glancing back. “I won’t, but thanks for the concern.”

“Wait!” Even if you did want to listen to what he had to say, you couldn’t, for the wall closes back up on itself the moment you step through it. Mildly jarred though you may be, there’s not much you can do to change this, so you turn around and try to figure out whether to go right or left. Both directions look exactly the same, so with the flip of a mental coin, you go right.

After both walking and jogging for what must have been over a mile, you’re no closer to any sort of landmark that would tell you where you are or how close you are to the castle. There haven’t even been any corners to turn past, just one long, unending aisle. You’re starting to feel a little claustrophobic as you finally come to a stop, needing to take a break for a minute. Sinking down against the wall into a sitting position, you find yourself looking back and forth down the path. Both directions look exactly the same, for as far as you can see. You groan dejectedly and put your head in your hands, allowing yourself a moment of pity before getting up and trying again.

“Hey there!”

You jump at the sudden Southern-sounding voice. “Who’s there?”

“Me, of course!”

Looking around, you see a small door just to your left, and a small woman, probably less than a foot tall, standing next to you. Her curly blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail, showing off her pointy ears. “And you’re...talking to me?”

“There’s nobody else around, is there?” The woman glances inside the open door. “‘Cept the missus, of course.”

Another woman, also blonde, pokes her head outside and smiles up at you. “Hello!”

“Why don’t ya come inside for a while? ‘Delia makes a killer gumbo.”

“Uh...no thanks. I’m just taking a break for a moment before I find a way to the castle.”

The woman’s face turns severe, and she holds her shawl tighter around herself. “You must be awfully brave if you’re so determined to go up there.”

Brave? You wouldn’t call yourself brave. Stupid, maybe, for bowing to the whims of the guy who’s kidnapped your charge, but not brave.

“But anyways, just go through the wall across from us and you’ll be on your way.”

You look in front of you to see the solid wall. “Through there?”

She nods.

Logic is telling you that this is obviously false, but, considering the same thing happened with Gallant, it can’t hurt to try. Standing up, you cautiously put your hand up to the wall, expecting to meet, well, a wall. Instead, you almost fall through a doorway that leads to another passage in the Labyrinth. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“You will be if you keep going.”

You choose to ignore this, at this point knowing that everybody who lives here is terrified of their ruler. “Thanks for the help.”

The elf stares at your back as you walk through the new corridor, figure becoming smaller and smaller. “If she would have stuck around, I would have been able to get her on the right track back home, not towards that horrible man.”

From inside the house, a timer beeps. “Misty, supper’s ready!”

///

In the stone chamber of the King of the Underworld’s throne room, a three year old girl is currently winning a staring contest against a demon. Michael watches as the demon’s eyes begin to water (with blood, of course), before he eventually gives in and blinks. The little girl cheers before looking at Michael.

“My daddy’s gonna kick your butt, you know. He saved mama from aliens once.”

“Silence, child,” Michael commands, but he can’t help the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. It’s difficult to hide his amusement when this child is the most lively thing to grace his castle since...well, he can’t quite remember since when.

Being surrounded by demons of all shapes and sizes, with a variety of horns or extra eyes or tails, gets old after a while. Demons, quite frankly, are a bore. All they want to do is scare people and cause mayhem, yet continue to use the same methods that have been in place for thousands of years. If Michael’s being honest with himself, everything’s a bore to him here. In the early years, this job had been quite fun. Lots of naive humans to terrify and endless souls to torture.

Michael himself had been prone to naivety, then. It was easy to deal with the buffoons that called themselves demons when it seemed that, soon enough, he would find somebody to share this burden with him. After all, it was the guy upstairs who believed that emotions were for the humans. Michael, however, found it to be one of the most carnal pleasures. To love, and to be loved, seemed like the greatest sin. As the years passed, and the whole routine of ruling the Underworld became stale, Michael began to embrace the feelings of dejection, while simultaneously dreading the thought of an eternity alone.

That’s why, no matter the outcome of tonight, Michael would at least have something to add a little color to his black-and-white world. At the very least, the child would provide much-needed entertainment in the Underworld. She seems quite creative, which could potentially lend itself to some new and innovative torture methods. But, that would almost be a non-starter, considering the whole reason that she’s here, the whole reason Michael implemented this plan in the first place, is to get to you.

You, who managed to somehow win over demons disguised as beggars that loitered outside of the bookstore you worked for. You, who was constantly coming up with your own ideas for stories, creating and erasing entire worlds within your mind (a power far more powerful than any regular magic, Michael believes). You, who had somehow managed to vex and enchant him, without ever having spoken a word to him. He had seen you on one of his visits up Above, talking to a beggar demon as if they were your equal, offering food and shelter to their grotesque form. From then on, he knew that he had to have you, and from that, a plan was born. The Labyrinth, which he had subtly placed in every single one of your dreams for months now, was impossible to run through. You would inevitably lose. And when that happens, he’s prepared to accept your frantic offer where you exchange yourself for the child. He is, after all, a benevolent ruler.

“Mr. Michael?” Julia questions, breaking Michael out of his pondering.

Michael hums, deciding that he won’t lecture her on the importance of referring to rulers by their titles. “Yes, little one?”

“Do you have juice here? ‘M thirsty.”

“Abaddon!” Michael calls, the demon appearing in a puff of smoke. “Get our guest some refreshments.”

The demon turns to do Michael’s bidding, shocked when Julia grabs their clawed hand and skips along with them. “I really like your spiky horns,” she says.

Michael looks up at the clock on the wall, noting that only nine hours remain for you to reach the center of the Labyrinth and rescue the child. Perfect. He’s not one to get too cocky (yes he is), but these are odds he’s willing to take.

Tag List (send me a message if you want to be on this!): @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @blakescoven @xavierplympton @michaellangdon @trelaney @ajokeformur-ray @babyloutattoo89 @bloodcoatedeclipse @threeminutesoflife @annikathebananana @wth-trippy @thatonehumanbeing05 @dumybitch

#labyrinth au #labyrinth imagine #labyrinth fanfiction #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagine #ahs #ahs imagine #duncan shepherd

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Note

Can I please have a short story of the prompt of the human reader being used as a sheild, and the human has a communicator allowing the bots to trace their signal? And can I please have ratchet, tailgate, cyclones, and drift for this?

I have headcannons for now because I'm spread really thin lately, but I hope you like it! Also I love this prompt in particular because every bot on the ship needs to be told how special and wonderful they are, and what better way to show them than by shouting their praises at an enemy with ample swearing?

Part One: Here!

Part Two: You're Here!

Ratchet

·Your relationship to the medic had allowed some of the restraint he needed for his high stress job to rub off on you, but that's also true of his testiness, so when you reach your breaking point it's quite the sight. The bot that kidnapped you for a ransom learns the loud way just how passionately you adore your grumpy bot when they crack another joke about Ratchet's age and you simply lose it. Held back by your chains, you crack that the bot who kidnapped you couldn't accomplish what Ratchet has if they had a billion years to do so, and what right do they have to insult when they look the way they do? "Call him old all you want, he looks better now than you ever have and ever will!"

·Perhaps it's the fact that the tiny human just insulted their appearance of all things, but the bot is frozen at the communicator, and somehow that makes you angrier. It's clearer to you now than ever before why Ratchet hurls wrenches at the bots that annoy him; nothing would be more satisfying than the "thunk" of a well aimed projectile at this jerk's head. As it stands you're willing to settle for using your words as the only weapons you have. Laughing bitterly, you ask your captor if they're only able to win an argument with bots that can't fight back, which would explain why they need you as a shield AND the corpses they keep as company. The last dig actually gets them moving towards you with a threat, but when they refer to Ratchet as your "rusty old paramour" you get a renewed burst of rage and go off once more.

·"Are you seriously trying to insult Ratchet of all bots?! Do you have any idea what he's capable of?! How many lives he's saved?! What have you accomplished lately, huh?! Besides EXTORTION?!" Feeling a tad bit flushed, it's impossible not to go all out in your tirade, especially because it feels so darn good after suffering in silence for so long. It doesn't hurt that you have so much material to work with either. This raging jerk is living in a corpse filled lair and kidnapping humans to ransom them off for cash, and they're going after one of the greatest medics the Autobots ever had? Cutting them down to size should be classified as doing the universe a favor! If you weren't so incredibly frustrated, and dangling from chains, you might have found this enjoyable.

·"Seriously! Ratchet does more good for the universe in a week than you could do in a lifetime! Plus, you think age is holding him back?! The bot walks right off the battlefield after carving up bad guys like you, only to waltz into the medibay to patch up everyone else, on a daily basis!" Though not impressed, it does appear that your captor is rethinking some things, and perhaps actually realizing they've made a pretty formidable enemy. Had that not been such a flagrantly obvious fact you'd have been satisfied. Instead you just keep going, your intense love for your docbot mingling with your frustration to pour forth in a never-ending stream of loving threats. Only a total power outage cuts off a tangent about how Ratchet's age has not impacted his ability or endurance in "other areas" of your relationship either...

·The darkness is broken by flashing lights and the crackle of energy weapons firing all around, and you just manage to catch some familiar colors flashing through the dark before a very welcome red and white frame swoops in to carefully slice you out of the chains with a laser scalpel. There's just enough time to catch a smile overflowing with emotion before you're taken into gentle hands, and as Ratchet takes you back to the ship you get a glimpse of your very roughed up kidnapper being cuffed by the remaining crew. Your partner takes you straight to the medical bay, fussing over you all the way and asking a thousand questions about your wellbeing, but without any of his usual gruffness as he does so. In fact, he's probably the softest you've ever seen him. The smile never once leaves his face as he insists on getting you fed and rested and to bed where he pulls the covers over you himself.

·In the aftermath he almost seems to melt in your presence, losing most of his grumpy persona every time he's with you no matter how long or difficult a day he's had. Though you obviously don't mind, a couple bots let you know that when you were kidnapped he was the closest to losing control anyone had ever seen him. He'd been shouting and cursing until you had interrupted the latest communication with your captor, at which point he'd been so shocked others had needed to rush in and take advantage of the prolonged signal. Evidently, hearing you defend him as you did had rocked his world in the best possible way. Between working a stressful and often thankless profession, and not ever hearing you shout in such a way before, he's been touched to learn he could be loved by someone who appreciates him as you do. It's enough to keep even the worst of grumpy days from affecting him.

Tailgate

·Truth be told, your greatest concern when you were kidnapped was for your tiny SO, as his propensity for panic could result in some very unpleasant anxiety attacks while he and the others try to rescue you. That worry on his behalf turned to fury when your kidnapper refused to stop mocking the little bot for everything from his size to his age and even for supposedly choosing an organic solely to be taller than someone. It's enough to make you see red, and your limit is quickly reached as a result of the cowardly bullying. Your explosive bout of rage is a scream of frustration that quickly morphs into an unstoppable tirade that pulls no punches. Has this big jerk been planning this for any length of time you ask, because if so, you know a couple of sparklings that could think of more mature insults!

·"Really?! You make fun of bots for being short?! He's also blue, you want to pick on him for something arbitrary, why limit yourself?!" You know it's not the smoothest insult, but darn it all, you can't bring yourself to think straight with all this rage. This bot needs to hear what an absolute creep and bully they are, because seriously who gloats like a real life cartoon villain? When they leave the communicator and try to get in your face you're only further incensed, channeling your tiny partner's courage as you wish beyond the telling of it you could punch the jerk into silence. "If there's gonna be insults, how about I open the floor to some genuine digs? Because your ugly mug is a GOLDMINE of material, okay?! Seriously, does Unicron ask YOU for beauty tips?!"

·There's sputtering in response, which you just take as a go ahead to tear them apart, because at this point you're not sure if you can really stop. After all, record shattering hideous face aside, what does this bot actually have to offer? Tailgate has saved millions! Faced with multiple varieties of death, he took out the guy hellbent on committing species wide genocide, and he doesn't even brag about it! You rub that in your captors face with all the pride you have for your partner spurring you on, hoping that you get a chance to tell Tailgate what a source of inspiration he was in these moments. At the very least you'll have to tell him how your captor froze at the enraged shouting. "Plus, Tailgate has actual friends! People LIKE him, unlike you, who I'm guessing doesn't entertain often based on the corpses you leave lying around!"

·A last ditch attempt to shut you up with a few lame threats just gets you laughing, in part because you can't believe this bot ever thought they were going to succeed at this. "You didn't even bother to check up on who you're making an enemy of, did you? I doubt it, because if you did, you'd know Tailgate has made paperweights out of bots much tougher than you!" Perhaps it's a little macabre, but it's endlessly satisfying to see your captor flinch as you describe what an absolute powerhouse your partner is, particularly how he uses his small size to levy his strength in the most destructive ways possible. It's delightful enough that, as you begin to brag about the benefits of his size relative to yours and his strength working together in more intimate settings, only something like an earthquake stops you.

·Chained as you are, there's no way to get a clear look at your captor as they attempt to flee, but thankfully the ground stills just in time to let you see the cavalry arrive. Lost Light bots pour in to stop the automated defenses from doing much at all, and in a brilliant blue and white blur your kidnapper is punched full to unconsciousness by what might as well have been a meteorite. It's only when said force of nature runs to free you and a tearful blue visor meets your eyes that you recognize Tailgate. The minibot gets you down in a hurry and embraces you in as tight a hug as is safe, talking a mile a minute about his worries and how sorry he is you had to go through all this. After assuring him he doesn't have to beat up your captor any further, you let him carry you back to the ship, getting nuzzled all the while.

·In between far more frequent cuddle sessions from the absolutely enamored Tailgate, you get pulled aside by a couple bots who just want to let you know what an impact your brave speech had on the minibot. While inconsolable during your kidnapping, to the point of swapping between rage and tears every few minutes, he'd been visibly awed once he heard you go off in his defense. That makes you understand everything far more clearly; this bot has been unsure of his self worth for so long, so hearing you face down a much larger foe because you love him so much that their taunting him drove you to frenzy... Knowing he's loved like that changed his entire worldview. You can see it in his visor every time he looks at you, and feel it in every buzzing hug, how grateful he is to have found someone who loves him.

Cyclonus

·Dating a bot capable of triggering enemy surrender with a glance requires a strong will, mostly to endure the endless questions from bots confused as to how you got Cyclonus to ask you out, but today you find yourself facing a whole new level of irritation. Though the bot that kidnapped you is obviously no match for your towering partner, they still mock the big mech through radio like they're some kind of badass, taunting him for debasing himself and growing soft by dating a fleshy. Regardless of how hard Cyclonus has worked to open up to you, hearing the personal jabs makes something within snap and go nuclear, resulting in a war cry your partner would be proud of as you rattle your chains for emphasis.

·"Can you just CAN IT with the insults?! We all know that if this fleshy wasn't here as your shield, you'd be fleeing to the other end of the galaxy!" You waste no time getting right to the heart of what's so infuriating about your captor; their spineless and cowardly nature is so obvious beneath the sneering mockery it makes you literally sick. Seeing how completely they freeze at your jab just proves your point in your mind. What, were they just expecting you to be quiet forever after dealing with THEM for the past few hours? Was the idea of resistance that surprising to them?! The calm maturity you picked up from Cyclonus is matched only by the capacity for righteous fury learned from the same source, and it's the latter that breaks out in glorious fashion.

·"Oh, what, nothing to say? No moronic insults for someone who can actually talk back? Do you need your debate opponents to be silent so you can think of a rebuttal?!" Your almost sarcastic jab actually earns you a demand to be silent, but it's so lacking in authority you can only laugh, despite not feeling any less furious with the situation. It's bad enough to be kidnapped and chained up, but by someone this incompetent? Being a tiny fraction of their size doesn't make you feel any less embarrassed for having been caught by them. It's enough frustration to make you snap again when they start coming in close, especially as another insult is levied at Cyclonus for having chosen a human so unpleasant due to his age and miserable attitude. The words are little more than kerosene on your already burning anger.

·"Do you really think you get to accuse Cyclonus of having a miserable attitude, you inept excuse for a kidnapper?! I'd rather have a conversation with these corpses than you! Not to mention, Cyclonus isn't limited to insulting people whenever he talks, unlike you!" The tirade is perhaps nonsensical with how passionately you begin to praise your partner's command of verse, but you're far too lost in your genuine adoration to care, especially as you begin to relay how wonderfully enticing his singing is to you. Every time your captor tries to command silence you just jump to yet another feature that makes your heart flutter, riding on the high of how incredibly good it feels to rub it all in their flustered face as you go. An attempt at describing his passionate grasp of verse around specific topics is stopped only by a door flying off its hinges in a burst of shattered metal.

·Security forces do nothing as a hulking purple figure enters through the smoke of considerable destruction, and your captor is left paralyzed with fear as they're hefted up by a clawed hand, one you're so relieved to see you can't help calling out their name. Cyclonus is content to toss the criminal to the rest of the crew as they arrive, and actually smiles once he beholds you safe. Freeing you of your bonds, he doesn't drop the chains until they're wrapped about your captor for some poetic justice. After that, you're carried to the nearest private spot on the ship and embraced without hesitation, the giant arms that have held you before almost shaking as he whispers how grateful he is to have you back. For an instant he sheds genuine tears when you hug him in return.

·Though the intensity of his emotions isn't as extreme as when he rescued you going forward, the big bot is far more open about his feelings than ever before, even showing them in full view of others. Surprised but not at all displeased, you are however quite thrown for a loop when someone recounts how incredibly worried he was during your kidnapping, in that he had to be convinced not to go after you alone and gouged some unfortunate furniture as he listened to the communications. Yet the moment you started your tirade, he was shocked to a whole new kind of silence. It's obvious that he hadn't even been able to process it at first, but now is fully overwhelmed and grateful for your love as he never was before. Hearing himself defended by someone he adores more than anything changed his perspective of himself, as well as his outlook on life, for how could he not see the beauty of a universe that had given him you?

Drift

·Sort of an interstellar hippy in his own way, Drift has taught you a lot about remaining calm through meditation, saying that a clear mind and control over anger is key to surviving high stress situations. The same philosophy is what he instructed you to use when others mocked his past, as he claims to be used to it and doesn't want anyone angering you on his behalf. This doesn't stop you from simmering in your current situation, dangling from chains as you might be, and admittedly being kidnapped tends to shorten one's fuse. Perhaps that's why you explode so dramatically when your abductor opens up the communication line just to mock your partner by claiming he hardly should be upset by an organic dying, considering his past, and that this current "relationship" is probably just a redemption stunt. That final mistake sets you off on a legendary tirade.

·"Are you KIDDING me?! You want to talk about STUNTS you wannabe kidnapping loser?! Do you have a projection disorder or something?! Because unlike you, Drift doesn't actually have to PROVE anything!" Never in your life have you wished to be the same height as the bots to this degree, granted though it's only because you want to strangle this jerk purely for the satisfaction of throttling them. Drift has worked to be better, and jabs about his past hurt him deeply, despite what he says. What right does this loser have to use that against him? You're so worked up fear isn't in your catalog of emotions when your captor tries to threaten you with physical harm. All you see is an overhyped grifter who got lucky, and you make that abundantly clear.

·"What, are you going to try threatening me, really? Am I supposed to be afraid of bluster now?!" The sight of a tiny organic growing red in the face with rage actually seems to give the bad bot pause, in part because you're so flushed they have to wonder if humans have a secret explosive ability that you're presently charging up. Admittedly you do feel like you might pop, but that's only because it's impossible to unleash all of your anger in a way that's truly satisfying, and you're left with spouting all the very justified insults that spring to mind. One particular thing that galvanizes your anger; how is this jerk pretending they would stand a chance against Drift?! The bot may be a literal ray of sunshine to you, but you're well aware of what he can do to enemies, and you doubt your kidnapper is in the dark about your paramour's combat prowess.

·"Would you be playing the big tough bot if he were anywhere near here?! Or if you didn't have me as a shield?! Because I doubt you'd last a moment in a one on one!" You shout, your tone of vitriol somewhat humorous considering that the point is a very valid one. While not afraid of Drift in the slightest, you know being on his bad side can be fatal in impressively short order. Perhaps that's why his soft approach to your relationship is even better. It's so special to you that in your current state you can't help but brag aggressively, going on about what a wonderful bot he is and that this loser could never hope to best him in combat or personality. Seeing them rethink it all just adds fuel to your fire, but before you can really get going on how Drift's gentle mannerisms extend to the bedroom you're interrupted by a cacophony of unfathomable origin.

·One of the entrances to the room you're in is sliced open by what you swear has to be ten swords at once, but as soon as it's down and the wielder charges in, you see only two held by a very angry looking Drift. Though accompanied by ample backup, he's an army of one as he reduces the security to pieces and almost dices up your captor. Only some obviously difficult self control lets him immobilize the bot instead. Not wasting time, your partner leaves the bad guy for the others to hurry to your side, his expression beaming with unmatched happiness and relief as he cuts you free and catches you in cupped hands. Shameless kisses and a million questions about whether or not you're hurt are your prelude to an open embrace. Never minding public affection in the past, he's still at a new level all the way back to the ship and in the days that follow.

·It's impossible not to go an hour without a loving nuzzle against your forehead, and whenever you aren't looking Drift is in the corner of your eye with an absolutely lovestruck expression on his sweet face, to the point you halfway imagine there could be hearts in his optics. Rodimus himself tells you in confidence that the unshakable ninjabot was barely able to keep himself steady after your kidnapping, obviously holding back a hurricane of pain and grief within his spark, but that changed in a flash as soon as he heard you. Accustomed to being derided, he'd been unprepared for such a passionate defense from anyone. Hearing you shout his praises had nearly driven him to tears. The pain of his past and the exclusion he faces for it has worn him down, to the point he often believes himself to be irredeemable, but you've made him have hope for himself for the first time in eons. Your love makes him see what he's done right, and from now on, he fully intends to give you and himself more to be proud of every day.

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waywardnerd67 · 3 years ago

Text

Star Crossed: Shining Star

Summary: Between filming and conventions, Jensen Ackles hardly has a moment to himself. During a panel one weekend he learns that his favorite band’s lead singer is a fan of his. Encouraged by his best friend, Jensen steps out of his comfort zone and reaches out to her on social media. That one decision throws his entire world into a whirlwind adventure. Pairing: No Pairing Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1595 A/N: None

Check out: Star Crossed Masterlist

Jensen Ackles walked into his apartment kicking off his shoes by the door. Thankful to be done filming for the week and looking forward to not having to travel too far for the convention this weekend. He loved meeting fans and performing on Saturday nights. There were some weeks where he wished he could relax in his apartment and not have to worry about traveling.

Deciding a night of Netflix and pizza was in order, Jensen took a quick shower then put on some sweats with a t-shirt. He had settled in with his pizza with The Witcher series pulled up to watch when his phone started buzzing.

“No Jared, I don’t want to come out.”

Laughter came ringing through the speaker, “Jackles, it’s only a few crew and myself chilling at our normal spot. Come out for a little while.”

“What part of no don’t you understand? The N or the O?” Jensen rubbed his forehead hearing everyone behind Jared chanting his name, “Buddy, I’m showered and in for the evening. I’ll make it up to y’all tomorrow night.”

“Fine old man, see you tomorrow.”

He groaned, ending the call and no longer interested in the show on Netflix. Turning off the tv, he walked over to his record player turning on the band he had been listening to on repeat. He discovered Wayward Stars a few years ago when a fan gifted him their cd. They were a hard rock, alternative metal band with lyrics that spoke to the soul. Also, the lead singer was drop dead gorgeous.

There had been late night shoots he would turn on one of their albums listening to (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s voice letting it seep into the far reaches of his mind. As he sat in his apartment alone, he allowed his mind to wander of singing with her on stage one day. Making a mental note to talk with Creation and Rob Benedict about getting her to come to Vegas for SNS. For now, he let the music flow over him well into the night.

The next day, Jensen slept in until he heard Clif knocking on his door. Twenty minutes later, he was walking down to the lobby where Jared was sitting with his eyes closed.

“Hey Jared!” He yelled.

Jared jumped falling off the chair he was on. Jensen and Clif started laughing as he mumbled curses under his breath getting off the floor.

“Not funny and I will get you back.” Jared’s eyes narrowed on him.

“I’m sure you will, big guy. Now, can we get on with our day?”

They had a few interviews at the studio and some meetings before they had to get ready for the concert that night. Since the convention was in Vancouver and there was no traveling, Jensen had agreed to sing that night. He was excited to perform new songs and to be in front of the fans. As they pulled into the studio parking lot, he sighed knowing it was going to be a long day ahead of him.

It was near six o’clock when Jensen arrived back at his apartment to get ready for the night. Once again, he turned on his favorite Wayward Stars song, A Light in the Dark. It was a slower song with beautiful lyrics and then a killer riff in the end. He was in his room, singing when he heard his door open. Only two people had a key to his place and he only needed one guest to know who was walking in.

“Really? Wayward Stars again?” Jared flopped down on his couch.

“I can’t help it that you have horrible taste in music.” He chuckled.

“I like the band… just not 24/7 like you.”

He rolled his eyes, shutting off his record player, “Don’t judge me. Now come on and let’s go hang out with the fam.”

Saturday Night Special was exactly that, special. Especially when they were in Vancouver. The cast and crew seemed to cut loose a little more backstage. He was catching up with Matt Cohen when they called him to get ready to go on stage. Jared and Misha were standing by the stage to watch as Rob called him up on stage.

There was nothing more exhilarating than being hit with a roar of an audience. An electric current steady ran down his body over the next fifteen minutes as he performed. When he walked off stage, as promised, he celebrated with Jared, Misha and others until the early hours of morning.

Their early morning panel was rough as the coffee worked through knocking out the whiskey from his system. The last question of their morning panel came from a young lady wearing a Wayward Stars shirt.

“Love your shirt.” Jensen smiled.

“We get it Ackles, you’re their biggest fan.” Jared jokes.

The fan laughed, “Actually my question is about them. SPN family loves this band since they are fans of the show. Wondering if you ever had a chance to meet them or if they could be invited to a SNS show?”

“Go on fanboy…”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “I would love to meet them one day and have them come perform during Saturday Night Special. I’m forever thankful to the fan who gave me their cd a couple of years ago. Many, many a night their music has kept me sane during shooting. So yeah, definitely would love to meet them.”

“I would love for Jensen to meet them so I can film it and post it on social media for everyone to see him fanboy all over (Y/N).”

The crowd ohhh as Jensen glared at Jared, “Alright, alright… I think we have to get going now. We will see y’all later.”

Waving as they walked off the stage. As soon as they were on the stairs, Jensen punched his friend in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You deserve that.” Jensen could hear Jared laughing all the way to the green room.

The rest of the convention went without a hitch. Monday morning brought a whole new week of filming. Jensen was in his trailer when his phone buzzed seeing a text from Jared.

He pulled up his app, seeing a few friends tagging him in a post from a girl named Addy. Clicking on the YouTube link surprised to see (Y/N) watching him sing from SNS.

“I can’t help it. He’s gorgeous and talented and the perfect man.” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically pretending to faint.

Text flashed on the screen, “#1 Jensen Ackles Fangirl”

He sat there stunned for a moment watching the video again. He could not wrap his mind around that she was a big fan of his. He knew the band liked the show, but to think he was perfect? His heart thumped against his chest as his shaking hands typed a message back to Jared.

Jensen took a few deep breaths before typing a Tweet then deleting it. He typed another one and deleted it. The third time he hit post and immediately regretted it, sounding like an idiot. Within minutes he received a notification from (Y/N) on Twitter.

Before he could reply, Jared was calling him, “Are you freaking out?”

“N-No… maybe, yes.” He stammered.

Jared’s laughter filled his ear, “Oh my god I wish I could see your face right now. This is your chance to make all your dreams come true.”

“I’m hanging up now, Jerk.”

“See you in an hour, Bitch.” Jared was still laughing as Jensen ended the call.

He watched the video a few more times and sent another Tweet out to (Y/N) after following her page. He went on all his social media making sure he was following her before realization hit that it seemed stalkerish.

“Jay, calm your roll.” He muttered to himself.

Putting his phone down, he tried to go over his lines for the next scene they were shooting. When he could not concentrate then he buckled, putting in his earbuds and turning on Wayward Stars. His hands were still trembling as he tried to control his fan moment.

Over the next several weeks, Jensen and (Y/N) were chatting all over social media. He posted a picture on Instagram tagging her in holding up her vinyl record.

Finally, he gathered the courage to ask for her number in a DM to chat with her more in private. Since their fans were going nuts over their new friendship. Now they would text each other everyday like they had known each other forever. She would tell him about her shows and cities she was in. He would chat about filming without spoiling anything for her. The only thing he wished could happen was their schedules to sync up so they could meet.

That thought ran through his mind everyday especially when he was at conventions like the upcoming weekend in his hometown. Thursday night, he was on a plane heading to Dallas when a notification popped up on his phone from (Y/N) posting on Twitter.

“Not next to me.” He mumbled snapping a picture of himself before replying to her Tweet.

He knew where she was off too after they had talked earlier in the day. They were still a thousand miles apart but closer than they had ever been since their friendship had begun. Settling back into his seat, he enjoyed listening to Wayward Stars newest song released that week.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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brothermouse · 4 years ago

Text

I'm just thinking about the first Christmas.

Mary feels a new blister forming and curses under her breath, so quiet Joseph can't hear. She fought too hard to come along on this trip to let him see an ounce of regret. She didn't have to come. Any sane person would tell her to just stay home, especially with how far along the pregnancy was. But she would walk hot, dusty roads and be covered head to toe with blisters for the rest of her life it it meant she didn't have to put up with the other women in the village.

They always seemed ready with some sharp catty comment, some new way to say the obvious without saying the obvious. She had been pregnant longer than she had been married, and everyone knew it. They would excitedly mention how big she was getting, almost as if they knew that she felt like an overstuffed cow. They would causally ask when she was expecting and then ask to be reminded when her wedding was, smugly implying that they had already done the math. It might have been better if they just came out and called her a slut. At least then she could yell at them. Then she could fight back. Then she could run crying into the strong, protective arms of her husband and he'd hold her and tell her that both she and he know the truth, and that's all that matters.

But even Joseph was different. Before all of this, he had been kind, loving, maybe a little clueless and awkward, but she found that part of him cute. But now? Now he seemed cold and distant. He didn't touch her anymore. No hugs and kisses like other newlyweds. He barely held her hand as her ever bulging self waddled about the house. He seemed almost afraid of her, like she was made of fragile glass or was some wild animal, ready to bite his hand off if he got too close. To be fair, some days she did feel like a strange beast, but her wild wrath was always meant for the town gossips. Towards Joseph she only felt sadness and grief for the kind man who seemed to vanish overnight.

Joseph, for his part, wasn't afraid of Mary. He was afraid of that thing growing inside of her. That Messiah. 'What even is a Messiah?' he would ask himself, 'What would it even look like?' Question after question after question filled his head and choked his tongue. Would the Messiah pop out, fully formed and armed for battle, before riding to Rome to behead Caesar, slaughtering heathens and gentiles along the way? Would it be like a rabbi, and call him and his wife to repentance for some yet unknown slight against God? Why does a Messiah need a father? Does a Messiah need a father? Doubts filled him and crippled him.

He would steal glances at Mary. She was sweaty and dirty and a little angry-looking. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wanted to grab her, lift the small delightfully plumped woman over his head and tell her all the ways she made him feel. But what if that broke the rules? What if his own uncleanliness some how befouled her? She was a holy vessel, like the Ark of the Covenant, and he was just...Joseph, the guy who cut wood.

Even without the angels and prophesies, Joseph would have felt unsure. Technically he was a grown man. He had lived the appropriate number of years, gone through the right ceremonies, done everything that everyone says make you a man. But still, whenever he saw those broad-chested, thick bearded men who seemed to have all the answers he saw he gap between himself and them. Real men had the answers. Real men knew what to do when their children were born. Real men could manage to say more than three words to their own wives.

Late in the day they arrive in town. Joseph curses himself. He should have known the trip would take longer with Mary. He should have planned ahead. Mary quietly curses again. Seems the baby didn't like all that walking and is kicking her kidneys in rebellion. She looks at Joseph, hoping he can see her pain, hoping he'll at least acknowledge it.

“I'll find an inn. ” He mumbles to her, knowing that a real man would have scooped her up in thick, strong arms and said “Not to worry, my radiant jewel! I'll have a roof over your head before the stars can grow jealous of your beauty!”

The sun dips below the hills and still no inn. Joseph wants to tell his wife that he's sorry. That she deserves better. That she deserves a real man by her side. One who would wrap her up in the finest silks and build a grand palace around her, wherever she wishes. But the most he can manage is rushing to the next inn, and hoping there's room for two.

Mary is growing concerned. What started as the baby rebellion has turned into all out war. Why didn't she just stay home? Why did she want so badly to spend time with a husband who seemed more concerned with chatting with unhelpful innkeepers than his own suffering wife? If she wanted to have a baby and be ignored by Joseph, she could have done that at home! At least at home she had her cousin Elizabeth to talk to. The contractions were getting closer now. Elizabeth had warned her about this. It was only a matter of time before the baby arrived.

As soon as Joseph wandered in arm's reach Mary snatched his robe.

“It's coming.” she says through gritted teeth.

“What is?”

“The baby!” Mary grunts.

Joseph turns pale. A thousand new questions and doubts fill his mind. “Where-”

“Anywhere!” Mary hisses through the pain. “An ally, a hut, a stable! Anywhere that isn't here!”

They enter a stable, a stubborn cow is woken up and moved to make room. Joseph feels remarkably out of his depth. He always though that when this day came, Elizabeth would be there to handle things and he would help by looking after little baby John. Only a few months old, John was a funny kid with an unparalleled knack for getting bugs in his mouth. Joseph liked John. Would a Messiah eat bugs? Joseph shakes his head back to the present. In a panic he asks Mary what he should do.

Mary meets Joseph's eyes. They are big and brown and filled with concern. They are the eyes of the man she loves. She wants to bask in the warm, manly kindness of those eyes forever, but another contraction cruelly pulls her away.

“Water!” she grunts, remembering what she can from Elizabeth's occasional words of advice, “and cloth!”

Joseph scrambles for the needed materials, but the pained screams of his wife tear at his soul. A real man wouldn't need to scramble for scraps with his wife in pain. In his heart he cries to God. He begs for an answer, just one answer to any one of his endless questions.

Mary lies on a pile of hay, eyes filled with tears, body filled with pain, and heart filled with loneliness. So few people could understand the pain of her soul, and the one person who she wanted most to understand, the one person who was physically closest to her was worlds away. She prays between agonized gasps for relief.

Mary screams to high heaven and Joseph's heart shatters. He can't do anything for her. She deserves so much more than he can give, and he can't even bring himself to give her a competent hand.

“I'm sorry” he gasps. And he runs out of the stable into the street. He shouts and screams and cries for help. A city of strangers huddles in their beds and ignores him. He spies a group of men. Desperate, he rushes upon them, grabs their woolly, sheepskin robes and begs them to help. Through childish tears and snot and sobs he explains his predicament.

One of the younger men huffs. He says they have something important to do tonight. One of the oldest men waves a hand and his young companion and claps an arm around Joseph. “We're used to delivering lambs,” he says, patting Joseph on the back, “But I think we can manage a child, just for tonight.”

In the stable, Mary clutches her belly. She's been abandoned. Her only companion now is an irate cow glaring at her from the the corner. Another contraction comes and she clenches her eyes. Suddenly something grabs her hand. She slaps it away, thinking it's the cow, getting impatient. It gabs her hand again. She opens her eyes and sees Joseph. His big, kind, brown eyes filled with tears. She squeezes his hand back. Suddenly she is surrounded by a small army of strangers.

“They're here to help.” Joseph says.

And they do help. With practiced precision each one fills a task. Water is fetched, clean cloth is produced. Shortly a tiny, pink, screaming baby is introduced into the stable. The cow wanders out, giving up getting sleep in this stable on this night.

The strangers hand the baby to Mary. She is tired. She feels like she's been stretched out a mile. She looks at the baby, wondering if she had been screaming this loud a moment ago. She's about to fall asleep. She shakes off the exhaustion and remembers something Elizabeth told her. Wrap the baby up tightly as soon as you can, so he can grow up nice and tall. She tries to calm the baby while fishing for spare cloth.

Meanwhile the strangers are beginning to leave, but Joseph delays them. He wants them to teach him. He wants to know how to be a man, a father, a husband. He stumbles over his words, trying to get the question right. The strangers are insistent, though. They have something important to do tonight.

Mary has finally got the baby wrapped up, and that seems to have calmed him. Exhaustion is pulling at her eyelids like iron weights. The baby needs a place to sleep. A nearby manger has relatively clean hay. She puts her baby there and lies back for her own long sleep.

Joseph is stumbling over his words as the strangers grow more insistent that they have to leave. Suddenly one of the younger men begins to tremble. He tugs at his elder's robes and points to a corner of the stable. The older man looks at the manger and the babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and begins to weep. The rest of the strangers follow suit, some weeping, some praying, some just standing and staring in awe. Joseph manages to eek out one more question, “What's wrong?”

The oldest man wipes the tears from his eyes and answers, “Absolutely nothing is wrong. It's just...well...” he scratches his bald head, looking for the words. “Earlier... when we were watching the sheep...there was this...angel.”

Instantly Mary snaps awake, all fatigue dispersing at that one word. “Angel?”

“Yes ma'am.” the old shepherd says sheepishly, “an angel, and-”

“I've seen one, too.” Mary says. “They're incredible!”

“And terrifying.” adds Joseph.

“And beautiful!” the Shepherd

The strange group spends the next few hours trading stories of their visions and the strange coincidences that brought them together.

While the shepherds and Mary are eagerly trying to explain the strange musical quality of an angel's voice the old Shepherd pulls Joseph aside. Joseph tries to ask twelve questions at once, but the shepherd stops him.

“She doesn't need you to have all the answers.” He tells Joseph, “She just needs you to be there.”

“But, how am I supposed to raise-”

“A day at a time. Children, sheep, men. Everything grows a day at a time.”

He gives Joseph a few more specific points of advice. And the begins to gather up his companions. He explains that the mother needs her rest, and they have sheep to feed. Slowly and reluctantly the shepherds are herded out.

Mary now feels more tired than ever. The baby begins to fuss. Joseph steps in and rocks his son.

He lies down next to Mary.

Haltingly, unsure, she moves towards him. His arm wraps around her and draws her in close. She rests her head on his chest and stares at her little baby boy. Her thoughts turn to the catty gossips of Nazareth. Without thinking she voices her fears, “What will they say when we come back home with a baby?”

Joseph squeezes her tighter, “Whatever they want. We know the truth. Besides, if it gets too bad, I'll bet we can get those shepherds to beat them up for us.”

Mary looks at Joseph, her tired mind trying to grasp what he just said. The joke dawns on her and she beings to laugh. Then as the emotional dam begins to burst the laughter turns to tears, and tears eventually fade into sleep. All the while Her husband holds her in his strong, protective arms.

And that's what I think the First Christmas was like; messy, loud, and full of people who had no idea what they were doing. So don’t feel bad if your Christmas is messy, loud and full of doubt. It puts you in good company.

#christmas #jesus #Nativity #tumblrstake #queerstake

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enviedear · 4 years ago

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secrets that you keep → peter parker

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in a consolation trip back to europe, the kids of midtown high are eager to have a normal vacation, finally. but you on the other hand are on a mission. something weird is going on with peter parker, and you’re going to figure it out.

PAIRING ⌙ peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.4k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“-smaller group than before, but we’ll still have fun guys. the tour company has made precautions for you kids. there will not be a repeat of last year.” mr. harrington babbles.

you sink lower into the bus seat. you did not want to be back in europe. truthfully you want to be anywhere but here. wherever, here, was. no one knew. cell service went out about five miles back and the bus driver didn’t speak english.

“yeah guys, don’t worry. this trip is going to be ten times worse than the last. it’s already started bad since we don't know where we ARE!” flash yells, running a hand down his face.

mr. harrington tries to calm him and the rest of the bus down, to no avail.

you block out the commotion and stare out of the bus window. grass, farm, cattle, shack, more grass, more farm. and not one single cell tower in sight. this is it, you think, this is how it ends, stranded in a foreign country with the most annoying people you’ve ever known.

“guys, GUYS! my service is back,” betty yelps. “it says we’re in wiveliscombe, and that it’s going to be three hours until we reach london.”

her words are met with groans.

“at least we have cell service now.” jokes peter parker, who’s sat in the seat across the aisle from you. he’s cute and nice, but weird. last year’s trip he had about a thousand excuses as to why he’d leave the group and if it happened this year, you were gonna figure out why. no matter what it took.

“mhm, and since we have access to the endless possibilities of the internet again, we don’t have to talk..” you huff.

“i.. sorry. i didn’t-” you cut him off by placing your earbuds back into your ears and turning the volume up.

something about peter irked your nerves in a way you couldn’t understand. maybe it was the way he knew fucking everything. maybe it was the way his body became incomprehensibly fit in such a short period of time. you really couldn’t understand that. even went as far as to do research on steroids, but found there was no way he could be using those. most probably it was the nonsense of his idiotic excuses. he might be able to fool everyone else, but not you. you knew there had to be something going on.

he and his stupid cute little brown curls, button nose, and six pack were under your firm watch.

by the time the bus reached the hotel the sun was beginning to set. jet lagged and in need of a long shower, you’re one of the first to fly into the hotel.

“It's me and you for the next week.” mj smiles, holding out a room key for you. truthfully, you really liked mj. she was cool and liked a lot of the same things as you. but she had one fatal flaw in your eyes, she used to date peter parker.

it was a short lived relationship, almost everyone saw it as a fling. peter and mj were just… too different. but they remain close friends.

it’s not like you were jealous... just, a tad bit jealous. besides, that ship had sailed and your goal wasn’t to end up like mj on the last trip to europe. no, you had other plans.

“cool. we can watch murder mysteries tonight and grab some snack from the convenience store down the street.” you grin.

the rooming situation for everyone else took entirely too long. it started with flash being upset that his room requirements weren’t being met. he wanted nothing to do with a roommate. this, caused his previous roommate, zander, to object to rooming with someone so, ‘coddled’.

took a full twenty minutes to resolve the issue.

“mj, you still wanna visit the national gallery tomorrow?” asks the one and only peter parker.

“uh, yeah. y/n, wanna join?” she questions.

you were ready to object, finding it far more intriguing to stay in and sleep but then you remembered your little mission. if you wanted to figure out what peter parker’s deal was, you’d have to be around him.

“sure. nothing better to do.” you shrug, peering straight into peter’s eyes.

“i, uh- i thought we’d get an early start to the day. ned wants to go on the jack the ripper tour, so that gives us until one to look through the museum.” peter rambles.

“alright, me and y/n will meet you two down here around ten thirty.” mj clarifies.

“see you then. night mj,” he looks to you. “goodnight y/n.”

you narrow your eyes at him, “sleep tight parker. busy day tomorrow.”

with that you and mj enter your room, ready to sleep off the jet lag. and soon enough, sleep carries you into her open arms, preparing you for the day ahead.

the next morning consists of peter and ned rushing in and out of their room. the duo forgetting nearly everything they needed for the day. it was extremely annoying. but you’d take watching the two ninnies scramble about over this tour you’re forcing yourself to get through right now.

the national gallery was proving to be a bore. maybe it was you. or maybe it was the dull ass tour guide. either way, you’re finding it hard to focus on any of these artworks around you.

“this is the arnolfini portrait. it’s the work of jan van eyck and it is believed to depict an italian merchant named giovanni di nicolao arnolfini. this painting has remained in the national gallery since 1843.” the tour guide drones.

you peer up at the art, searching for anything to interest you about it. you try to focus of the dark green of the woman’s dress, then the small dog, but nothing about this art is appealing to you. instead, you find the whispered conversation going on behind you to be much more intriguing.

“ned how am i going to make it all the way to japan and back here before the ripper tour?” peter grumbles.

japan?

“i don’t know, but i really don’t want to go on a tour of the most infamous and creepy serial killers of all time without my best friend.” ned whispers.

“but mj will be there, and.. y/n.” peter assures.

“great. they both creep me out. that’s like, two extra loads of creepy added onto the already creepy tour.” ned huffs.

“dude, i have to go… mr. stark is waiting on me.” peter pleads.

you hear ned give an annoyed, “fine.”

you wait a few seconds before turning around to face peter’s friend.

“where did peter run off to?” you ask, as innocently as you can.

“uhhhh- the bathroom. the uh, hotel bathroom. yeah, must have been those tomatoes he ate with his breakfast today.” ned gulps.

“mhm. well i think i’ll meet up with him. he shouldn’t walk all the way back alone.” you smirk, shoving past ned and running the direction peter went.

it took a good minute to find him outside, the boy running into a bakery. but once your eyes find him, you rush straight in, right behind him. eyes narrowed and full of questions.

the brown haired boy quickly enters a bathroom and you grin.

no escaping now, parker.

you wait outside the bathroom eagerly. only for minutes to pass. no sound escapes the room and you furrow your brows.

you knock on the door, no answer. annoyed you open the door, only to be met with an empty bathroom.

an empty bathroom with an opened window.

what the fuck?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“we’ve been upgraded!” mr. harrington gleams, looking down at our tired faces.

“last time we were upgraded we almost died.” betty sighs.

“ah- what did i say, we’re not going to repeat last year,” harrington retorts. “now...how do you guys feel about paris?”

well those words certainly livened up the breakfast table. train tickets are soon passed around, and you study yours, spoonful of yogurt still in your mouth.

“hey y/n, mj and i are gonna go to the louvre when we get there,” ned grins. “wanna come with?”

you chuckle, “another museum? nah, i’m good.”

mj quirks a brow at you, “this museum is home to the mona lisa. it’s not just any museum.”

“and the mona lisa is not just any painting… it’s an ugly one.” you huff.

ned guffaws at you.

“honestly, i might skip out too.” peter says.

you turn to face him, “great. you and i can explore paris while mj and ned explore another museum.”

he shifts in his seat, “i dunno i was thinking of-”

mj cuts him off, “i think that’s a great idea y/n. don’t you, peter? you remember what harrington said.. no repeat of last year.”

her eyes are cold as she awaits his answer and he fidgets more in his seat.

“i just think it might be best for me to stay here… ya know in case mr. stark needs anything.”

you roll your eyes, “dude, you’re just an intern. what could he possibly need that his other ten thousand interns can’t do.”

“technically he only has like six other… interns.” peter mumbles.

“but uh.. they can handle whatever mr. stark needs from you. i mean they’ve been av- uh, interns, for a while.” ned says, eyes pleading with his friend.

peter sighs before smiling at you, “alright, me and you versus paris.”

no peter parker, me and myself versus your dirty little secret.

somehow you got to sit next to peter in an empty train car for the ride to paris. and holy shit.. could he talk.

his eyes did have a way of lighting a fire inside you as he talked but, that, was not the point.

it was between an empty car with peter or full car sat between flash and harrington.

peter is always better than the latter.

“-anyways, how’d you convince your parents to let you go back to europe?” he asks.

“i didn’t. they made me.” you say simply.

peter slumps into his seat a little, “uh, why?”

“because when they were younger they traveled the world. i dunno, i guess they expect me to want to as well.”

“oh. well, are you enjoying it so far.” he asks.

i’d enjoy it more if i could figure out your damned secret, parker.

“sure.”

and then, finally, peter is quiet.

but not for long, as the train comes to a screeching halt.

over the train speakers comes a booming voice, “veuillez rester calme. le train s'est arrêté en raison d'un dysfonctionnement du moteur.”

your body tenses and you look at peter, “please tell me you understand french?”

“a little.. i dont think we need to worry. they said it’s just an engine malfunction.” he nods, looking around the train car.

you try to breathe.

everything is okay. there’s no evil robots coming to destroy a train car with two innocent teenagers. that’s so pre civil war. just breathe.

suddenly a loud bang is heard from the car behind you. not just any bang… a gunshot.

“holy shit.” you whisper, stiff as a board.

peter on the other hand is rummaging through his bag.

“parker! what the fuck are you doing?” you hiss.

“i.. just trust me okay? when i tell you to run… run.”

you look at him with a scowl, “i’m not going to be the sacrificial pig for slaughter, asswipe.”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m going to run with you. we’re going to find an empty car and then… wait for spiderman.”

you blink. the kid’s gone insane.

“peter. listen, i know coping with your own inevitable death can be hard but, spiderman.. really?” you groan.

another loud bang comes from the car behind you.

peter looks at you, taking your hand in his.

the door to your car bursts open.

“run!” peter yelps, rushing into the next car, the gunmen not far enough behind.

“holy shit i’m gonna die.” you scream.

peter throws something at the gunmen when the two of you enter the next car, separating the two of you from the monsters.

but the kid didn’t throw just anything at them. motherfucker threw a damn door. a metal train door.

by the time you process the information, peter is pulling you into a cramped bathroom.

“i don’t have much time but basically, hi, i’m spiderman. those guys back there are people tony stark pissed off really bad and i need you to hide in here until i fix this issue.”

with that he pulls his jacket off revealing the spiderman suit you’re so used to seeing on the news.

“that’s your secret? this entire time i’ve been hanging around you trying to figure it out, and it turns out you’re spiderman. i would have thought anything before fucking spiderman.” you dwell, eyes wide.

he slips his mask on, “wait, you only hung out with me because you thought i had a secret? i mean.. i did but-”

another loud bang interrupts him, “nevermind. we’ll talk about this later. stay here and don’t tell anyone what i just told you.”

you nod, and watch him exit the bathroom.

so much for “not a repeat of last time.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“at least it wasn’t witches this time.” mr. dell sighs.

your entire fourth period groans.

“what! our world is infested with witches now. i don’t even know why i’m teaching science. i’m gonna turn around one day and suddenly i’ll be teaching witchcraft.”

your eyes return back to your desk, staring a hole into the old wood. your trance is broken by a crumpled piece of paper. you roll your eyes and turn your attention to peter, who after europe has been watching you like a hawk.

you open the paper to see, ‘listen, mr. stark said i need to get written evidence that you won’t spill the beans. please sign below.’

you grimace but sign at the bottom of the paper and hand it back to your new ninny friend.

that’s right. friend. despite being one of the most annoying people on the planet, with the weirdest secret ever.. peter was nice. he was really nice. he liked almost everything you did and listened intently to whatever you had to say.

“earth to y/n.” his voice calls from beside you.

“oh? is class over?” you ask.

he nods and holds his arm out to you. you take it and give him a half smile.

you may find peter parker to be the weirdest dude ever, but you can’t deny that the secret superhero is starting to flood your mind. you never thought you’d be the one to say it, but peter parker is the coolest weirdo you’ve ever met.

and besides, your mission was a success. you figured out his secret and obtained a friend along with it.

well, friend, until you could complete your newest mission.

telling him you like him. like, a lot.

#—myfics !#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x enemy!reader #peter parker x enemy!reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman far from home #x reader #peter parker

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