#but i think because it was so freaky that is why wade liked it so much. because he knew. out there. god was frowning at him. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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Unhallowed Arts

Threesome: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones x Brad Davis Rating: E Word Count: 11,077

This is a submission for Thotumn, organized by @spideysmjs!!! Today’s prompt: Threesome (but this fic also includes previous prompts: Semi-Public, Face-Sitting, and “Don’t Be Gentle”).

Summary: “What’s the compromise between abruptly shutting this down (her sex drive weeps) and getting in bed with a guy who will make the experience too emotionally intense?

'Have you ever had a threesome?’ Michelle blurts.

'…What? No.’

‘Neither have I. But I’ve been, um, wanting to try it.’

Have you? she demands of herself, wiping a damp palm on her jeans.

‘You, me, and someone else?’ Brad’s eyebrows are very high on his forehead. ‘That’s a lot of bodies, uh, coming together.’”

Brad Davis has a Mary Shelley mug. He used to drink from it—coffee he brought to work in a thermos from home, which smelled so delicious that Michelle would go out of her way to inhale it over his shoulder, pretending to let him show her something on his monitor—until the mug cracked and he switched to using it to house typical office junk. She asked him about the mug exactly once, fearing it was bait to intrigue a certain kind of person, to make him seem like a certain kind of person himself. But he surprised her. Turns out he’s not a douche (or at least not a douche who lures women in with female authors of historical significance), just a genuine Shelley fan.

He’s not many things Michelle initially assumed him to be, striking them off a mental list over the months they’ve worked together: not a guy who takes the last free seat at the table during a team meeting, not a guy who checks out his own reflection on his black phone screen, not a guy who wears sturdy hiking boots for show. When they troop out to conduct surveys on behalf of the conservation initiative they work for, Brad scrambles up the side of eroding banks and squelches into marshland until water soaks his socks and surface residue clings to his leg hair.

Brad’s not pushy, though she’s well aware that he’s been watching her as long as she’s been watching him.

Early on into them working together, she fell into his arms. Literally fell. The team encouraged Michelle to wait for the second truck, the one bringing the ladder, but she got stubborn and climbed the tree to check the bat box the old-fashioned way. Unfortunately, some of the branches were dead and hollow inside, but Brad caught her when she dropped eight feet. And then flirted with her before she could catch her breath. She had some less friendly words for him in return. The first time he surprised her was when he immediately respected her clear boundaries and backed off. They’ve learned to work easily with each other and drink together in the same booth when people from the initiative hit the bar—on evenings they don’t smell too much like they spent the day in Mother Nature’s armpit. They’re friendly, could almost be friends, except that she’s incredibly conscious of his persistent attraction to her, even if he doesn’t do anything about it because he’s not a douche. It’s a knowledge Michelle simply lives with.

But there have been an awful lot of evenings lately of smelling like whatever swamp she waded into during the day, of either going straight home to shower the stench away (thank fuck for rent with utilities included), or hunching over her laptop as she tries to get a grant application finished before a midnight submission deadline. Nobody she works with is holding their breath for the day the government decides it should just give them the money to protect local habitats without making them prove themselves over and over and compete against other worthy environmental projects for the funds. So, Michelle works, and she wades, and she loses many of the evenings she could be out getting laid.

On a regular they-better-pay-us-for-the-overtime evening and not a marshy/swampy/boggy one, she’s comfortably stretched out in a booth with Brad across the table. Two of their colleagues were here a minute ago, but they got up to… go to the bathroom? Grab another round? That’s a little hazy, but Michelle can feel something becoming clearer to her. Observing her own hand as she twirls the base of her latest empty across the tabletop, she asks a question.

“You like Mary Shelley, right?”

Brad, glassy-eyed but still trying to look professional with the way he has his hands folded on the surface in front of him, smiles at her. She can feel it.

“Yes. Her creativity was astounding. If I were in the running for the Miss Universe pageant—”

Michelle jerks her chin back and looks up to make a face at him.

“—and they asked me what historical figure I would most like to have dinner with, I would say Mary Shelley. Hands down.”

“Cool story, bro. Hey, Brad?”

“Mhmm.”

She can tell by his drifting gaze and expression of introspection that he’s planning out his pageant answers.

“Do you still want to sleep with me?”

That focuses his attention. He laughs uncomfortably.

“Why… why would you think that?”

“Oh, so, what’s your limit?” Michelle presses, slightly snide with the alcohol in her bloodstream. “You’re not interested in going past holding hands? Making out for no more than five minutes? Because you obviously want something,” she rambles on. “You look at me, I know you do.”

“This isn’t just an idle question, is it?” Brad asks.

He leans forward to look at her as carefully as his tipsiness will allow. As if he already knows the answer. Their thought patterns are very similar, she’s found. It’s why they’re effective at work and why it’s possible to fall into a discussion on books during their overlapping lunch hours. She likes him—not a lot, but enough to have started this conversation. She stares back at him.

“I wouldn’t say no to it,” he offers quietly, though the bar is crowded tonight and Michelle doubts their words are traveling beyond the booth.

Now, Brad’s looking at her in a way that makes her realize, all this time, he’s barely been looking at her. With the permission to think of her in this way, there’s a clear desire there, a gaze that slips again and again to her mouth. Huh. Ok. Maybe she didn’t completely think this whim through before sharing it with him. She can’t fuck that Brad. She’s been imagining the drinking companion, the nice forearms he reveals when he literally rolls up his sleeves in the field, the man who will always be a little on her nerves for flirting with her as he cradled her against him. Someone whose world she could casually rock with the assurance that they both have enough self-confidence to carry on afterwards without getting clingy or feeling disposed of.

What’s the compromise between abruptly shutting this down (her sex drive weeps) and getting in bed with a guy who will make the experience too emotionally intense?

“Have you ever had a threesome?” Michelle blurts.

“…What? No.”

“Neither have I. But I’ve been, um, wanting to try it.”

Have you? she demands of herself, wiping a damp palm on her jeans.

“You, me, and someone else?” Brad’s eyebrows are very high on his forehead. “That’s a lot of bodies, uh, coming together.”

“Come on, Brad—”

“‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’” he guesses.

“I was going to say, I thought you loved Frankenstein.”

She rounds her impulsive invitation off with a smile.

—

Michelle doesn’t volunteer to select the third person. When she considers which of her friends and acquaintances she’d be comfortable having sex with, well, there’s Brad. That already hasn’t gone the way she predicted. Everyone else she’s close to either feels like family, is in a monogamous relationship, or just isn’t attractive to her in that way. She consoles herself over putting the choice of their third into Brad’s hands with the thought that he seems like he’d be the most suspect person in a friend group (yes, they get along, but there’s something sleazy about the way he tries too hard), so whoever he asks can only be more tolerable than him.

“So, a buddy of mine said he’d be into it,” Brad says as she’s passing his desk one day. Michelle stops dead and he swivels in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest.

“You’re talking about…”

“Yeah.” He darts a look around, then hits her with a conspiratorial smile.

“Oh. Ok. Good. Turtles,” she says more loudly to cover for them. Her gaze darts to the nearest desk, but Jocelyn’s wearing headphones and bobbing her head as she populates a spreadsheet. Reassured, Michelle takes a step towards Brad and lowers her voice again. “What’s his name? How do you know him?”

“His name’s Peter. We play soccer together.”

“How the hell do you have time to participate in organized sports?”

“That’s what I do while you’re working your way through the New York Times Best Seller list,” Brad jokes.

“Fair. But who is this guy?”

“You want his résumé?”

“No, I want to know he’s not going to give me an STI or try anything freaky.”

“Freaky,” he echoes. “As opposed to threesomes, which are an incredibly common thing to do with your boyfriend.”

“Or your friend from work,” Michelle retorts, to keep things very clear. Brad appears fleetingly wounded. Too bad. He can say no any time, but it’s obvious that he’d rather see her naked in a threesome than the alternative. Which is never.

“Yeah, of course. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about Peter. He’s responsible, he’s single, he was raised by his aunt and they’re still really close. She comes to all our games.” He lets out a derisive sort of laugh and Michelle narrows her eyes at him.

“That’s sweet.”

“I guess,” he concedes.

“Why’s he single?” she asks, rapid-fire.

“I don’t know, because he wants to be?”

“‘Wants to be’ like he’s emotionally stable and waiting for the right person to come along or ‘wants to be’ like he’s a flake with commitment issues?”

Brad gives her a look like she’s overthinking this; it betrays an utter lack of comprehension of a woman’s perspective on relationships. The validity of her questions goes over his head.

“Why does it matter if he has commitment issues?”

“Relax,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m not trying to date him, it just says something about his personality. I don’t want to do this with somebody selfish, because if he’s selfish in other areas, he’s probably selfish in bed.”

“He’s a good passer,” Brad says. “On the field. He always ends the season with more assists than goals.”

“That’s… not a totally useless testimonial.”

“I appreciate your approval.”

Michelle would laugh if his tone weren’t a little too earnest. The way he really wants to impress her can be grating. Well, he’ll soon have his chance to impress her in a situation where she actually wants to be impressed.

“Get back to work, slacker,” she tells him, returning to her own desk.

Fifteen minutes later, Brad texts her with three different dates to choose from. Michelle pulls up her calendar, colour-coded with deadlines and days she’ll be working out in the woods. Taking late nights and the need for long showers into account, she picks a date, then leaves her thumb hovering over ‘Send’. She puts her phone down.

This is where she could still back out. Brad’s mentioned it to his friend, but she’s under no obligation to either of them. Would it be awkward to change her mind and see Brad at work every day? Yes, though she could always say she just wasn’t that serious about it to begin with. Which she wasn’t! For someone who’s soothed by referring to her colour-coded calendar and progressing through life with each forward step carefully considered, tossing out a suggestion to have a threesome was rash.

Michelle eyes her phone.

On the other hand, Brad likes her too much to be a dick post-ménage à trois, which, as far as she can see, is sort of an ideal trait in a threesome companion. If she were going to do this. She wheels her chair back and cranes to peer across the room at him. Focused on his screen, he brushes his black hair out of his face with a quick swipe of his hand. Damn, he is nice-looking. The kind of guy Michelle would definitely approach at a bar for a one-night stand if he flashed a smile her way. If picturing him naked intrigues her, then the idea of lying down between him and another muscled body (Brad said soccer, so she’s assuming this friend has an athletic build) while the three of them wind over and under each other like a braid definitely ticks a big ‘YES’ box in her brain. Her hand shoots out for her phone. She hits ‘Send’.

Three bodies which will, in Brad’s words, be coming together. Maybe not what Mary Shelley had in mind, but anticipating this threesome does more for Michelle’s libido than an electrified jigsaw of corpses ever could.

—

It’s a different bar, and she’s in different clothes, but otherwise, it’s not a totally foreign way for Michelle and Brad to spend their Friday evening. Provided he shows up. She darted home after work and a loaded glance at Brad, showered, and starred deep into her neglected makeup bag like it was some sort of prophetic tool. Michelle, it said to her, you don’t want lipstick smeared all over your face and eyeshadow fallout stinging your eyes. Leave it at mascara and a whole whack of waterproof eyeliner. She obeyed these wise words with trembling hands, nearly prodding herself in the eye with her mascara wand because, even with a doable task to concentrate on, she was nervous.

She adjusts her short, black skirt, rocking side-to-side on the stool. For a regular date, it’s the kind of item she would borrow from a friend, but it struck Michelle as incredibly gross to wear a friend’s skirt to a threesome and then return it to them afterwards, so she bought this one online. During work hours. Feeling incredibly furtive, though everybody dabbles in online shopping during lulls in their workload. The skirt was never a normal purchase; she knew it was going to end up right here, right now, between her ass and a barstool. She gulps the end of her whiskey and goes back to cradling the beer that’s been her emotional support as she waits for the guys.

Arriving ten minutes early has felt like an age—time stretching wretchedly like those clocks in ‘The Scream’—but she finally hears a familiar voice calling her name. Flipping her hair out of the neck of her leather jacket and grabbing her support system, Michelle turns to spot Brad’s face. He smiles and waves, stepping through the crowd that’s building steadily as the after-work drinkers are exchanged for the cutting-loose-for-the-weekend drinkers. When she slips down from the stool, her skirt rides up, and the man who is usually just a co-worker allows himself to notice. His gaze on her bare legs feels good.

“Sorry we’re late,” he says, though they both know she’s early. But Michelle will take this pleasantry over an implication that she’s overeager.

Since they were at work together only a few hours ago, she skips small talk.

“Where’s your…” Friend, she’s going to say. She doesn’t need to.

Brad—tidy in a partially unbuttoned blue shirt—angles himself towards her side, making room for the woman taking the barstool she vacated, and Michelle sees a man approaching with the two of them as his clear destination. Her first sense of him is filtered through Brad. Once, through Brad’s description, twice, through Brad’s cologne. It may be coming off her friend’s skin, but the scent clings to Peter in her brain. What she’s smelling is the woods, only more expensive somehow, like a perfume company bottled the idea of glamping. Doesn’t matter that the scent doesn’t suit him at all. He walks with his head up, eyes openly excited, and it makes her think of a schoolkid progressing through a museum’s dinosaur exhibit. All he’s missing is a backpack with straps for him to clutch. Letting her gaze skim down from his face, Michelle actually can’t picture him trying to haul on a backpack; his shoulders look broad and strong, even under the incongruous red hoodie he’s wearing.

“Oh,” he says when he sees her standing next to Brad. Under any other circumstances, she’d be taken aback by his eyes scanning the full length of her body, but she’s going to fuck this stranger tonight and when he looks back up to her face, he’s grinning. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, more guarded, less forward, until Brad suggests trying to find someplace to sit and Michelle’s able to check Peter out from behind as he leads them away from the bar. Nice butt.

They snag a coveted corner spot as a small group in business attire is leaving it, settling with Brad between them. Peter makes himself useful by dashing back to the bar and returning with the fingers of one hand twined between the necks of a trio of beers and the fingers of the other slightly dipping into the liquid in a pair of tumblers.

“I didn’t know what you’d like beyond what you’re already drinking,” he says, jerking his chin towards the beer Michelle finished while he was gone.

“That’s fine,” she assures him. “I don’t want to be too… I want to be aware of…”

God, trying to discuss the imminent threesome directly is making her flustered. She has a swig from the new bottle he placed in front of her. Peter leans across Brad and offers his to clink with. Where Brad’s face is aggressively handsome in the heavy line of his eyebrows and the sharp perfection of his teeth, up close, Peter’s is cute and unintimidating.

“Here’s to being a consenting participant tonight and remembering it tomorrow,” he says.

Unintimidating, but not uncompelling, especially when he tilts his head back to drink and she can watch the line of his jaw.

Michelle blushes, but knocks her bottle against his.

Two rounds deeper for them and one for her, the heat of the bar and the alcohol in her system are getting to her. She winds her way back from the washroom and shrugs out of her jacket before sitting down. Peter manages to get the end of his sentence out, but Brad doesn’t even try to respond as he takes in the low sides of her silky top. Michelle slides closer to him than she was sitting before and puts a hand on his knee as he finally turns his head and stutters out a reply to Peter. Peter looks past him and catches her eye. Her heart’s springing up and down in her chest because she realized, staring at her reflection as she washed her hands, that, if they’re going to do this, somebody’s gotta make a move. Peter, sleeves shoved up, is staring back at her like he’s been thinking the same thing. His hand smooths over Brad’s thigh.

Under the table, Brad keeps his legs still, his feet flat on the ground. His comfort in his own skin is something Michelle’s always respected. He even succeeds in raising his glass steadily to his lips and taking another drink while Peter runs his hand higher. With a little throat-clearing, Brad parts his thighs further. She doesn’t mean to be, but Michelle’s waiting for Peter to go first. They were talking about something innocuous when he said just enough to imply that he’s never been in a threesome either. Regardless, there’s a confidence in the way he touches Brad. She trails her fingers up Brad’s thigh and Peter locks eyes with her as their gazes cross watching their friend swallow.

Suddenly, the man between them is a little less present, even with the sharp breath he takes at the moment Peter tucks his hand against his crotch. Michelle rests her hand over his. She feels his skin, lets her fingers slip through his, as Brad gasps and swells beneath Peter’s palm; she can tell—they have to change the curve of their grip to accommodate the erection. Brad’s arm curls around her waist and presses her into his side as her and Peter’s hands move together, stroking through Brad’s pants, rubbing him. He glances at her, heat in his eyes, but she’s looking at Peter again by the time she leans in and kisses Brad’s throat. She draws it out into a lick at the slack way Peter’s mouth is hanging open. Hopefully, the fall of her hair is blocking the necking from the view of other patrons, but that hope is tough to keep in mind when Peter’s tongue appears to wet his lower lip. Like she’s kissing him.

There’s a squeeze between Michelle’s thighs that has her gripping Peter’s hand more firmly, urging him to jerk Brad off faster. She glances towards Peter’s lap and he lifts his hoodie with his free hand to expose the bulge in the front of his jeans. The scent of her perfume rises as sweat trickles between her breasts. They knead Brad rapidly until he chokes out a plea for them to stop, begging to take this someplace private. She grabs her jacket in one hand and links the fingers of her other through Brad’s. Tugging him to the exit, she trusts Peter to bring up the rear.

—

Making out in the back of a rideshare is bad behaviour, so Michelle takes the passenger’s seat when the car pulls up. Because she is feeling the need to go back a step from risky under-the-table handjobs and just kiss someone. And that someone is not the friend she arranged this with. She glances at the sidemirror as they’re passing under a streetlight and Peter’s staring at her. He winks. Slowly, like she’s just looking idly around as they drive, she turns to glance into the backseat. Brad has his arm stretched out along the top the seats and his fingers have dipped into the neck of Peter’s hoodie. Michelle’s pulse accelerates just imagining the warmth of that throat. Scrambling for her phone, she sends Brad a text.

Put your fingers in his mouth.

She faces forward again for about a block, prolonging her outward nonchalance even as she hears a vibration, followed by Brad’s soft snort of acknowledgement as he reads her text. She glances around the edge of her seat and sees him act. His hand comes out of the sweatshirt to take Peter by the chin and turn his face towards him. Briefly, he inclines his head towards his friend, speaking too quietly for her to distinguish the words, but Michelle guesses it’s something about her watching because Peter’s gaze jumps to her as he opens his mouth and accepts two of Brad’s fingers. She can see him sucking as Brad withdraws, cheeks flushed. He looks to her—for approval, she thinks, until he holds his wet fingers up and curls them in the air in a highly suggestive motion. Oh shit. Michelle feels herself pressing down on the floor of the car like she’s in the driver’s seat with the accelerator under her foot.

They’re going to her place where: she’s on home turf, she knows it’s clean, she can go right to sleep after kicking them out. Also, the one luxury of her second-story apartment is the king-size bed her friends seriously, outrageously got on ladders to help her push through the sliding door of her balcony because that was easier than carrying it up the narrow staircase. Tonight, she plans to get some good use out of all those acres of mattress.

As with the hijinks in the car, she knows both men are watching her as she lets them into the building and then through her front door.

“Kitchen,” Michelle says, with a loose wave of her hand. “Living room, bathroom. And the bedroom’s at the end of the hall.”

Brad excuses himself to empty his bladder and/or psych himself up in the mirror above the bathroom sink and she’s wondering how to entertain his friend during these uncertain moments of transition when Peter basically lunges forward and kisses her. She moans into his mouth because it’s sudden but it’s good. His hands go right to her ass and her arms wrap around the back of his neck, holding him against her. With her heels, she has a handful of inches on him, but that doesn’t appear to make him pouty or daunted. It’s less than a minute, probably fewer than thirty seconds (understanding the flow of time is temporarily lost on Michelle), but they separate panting.

“You can tell Brad to stick his fingers in my mouth all you want,” Peter murmurs, still staring at her lips, “but I’ve got something I wanna to stick places too.”

“Understood.” She nudges her thigh into his groin.

“So, you guys aren’t waiting for me, huh?” Brad asks with a tight smile as he walks out of the bathroom to see Peter’s hands on her ass and her pressing back against him.

This is kind of the idea, all three of them experimenting with each other, but she can tell he’s annoyed that anything went on while he was out of the room. That he’s possibly jealous. Though it doesn’t feel right to move away from Peter, Michelle knows how to rectify this. She strides to Brad and puts her hands lightly on his chest before kissing him, more coyly than Peter kissed her. She lets Brad come down to her as he hunts out what he wants from the kiss. This feels nice too, though it has more of the familiarity of kissing a friend—even though they haven’t touched in this way before—than the bubbling lust that went with kissing Peter. As she continues, tracing her fingers to the center of his chest to stroke his skin and begin undoing his buttons, Peter comes up behind her and helps her out of her jacket. She hears her keys jingle in the pocket and tap against her phone. When his hands sneak through the sides of her shirt to run across the underside of her breasts, Michelle pushes Brad back, back, back, and the three of them stagger to her bedroom.

She and Brad make out in the dark for a while, and without light, the kissing get rougher, their breathing ragged. Once she has all the buttons of Brad’s shirt undone, she reaches back for Peter and he grips her hand tightly as he grinds his erection against her ass. They’re pressing snugly into her front and back when she thinks of things like being able to locate condoms and ogle muscles—both activities require some light. Michelle squeezes out from between them and turns her bedside lamp on, angling the shade so the light stays low. Turning to check on them, she sees one man standing there with his shirt open and dishevelled and the other rigid in the front of his jeans. Brad’s hard too—she felt it when she stood against him, but his erection’s not visible from where she’s standing now. It’s odd, seeing the space between their bodies and knowing she was just in it. But with Peter rubbing Brad’s dick at the bar and Brad clearly turned on by having Peter suck his fingers on the way here, they’ve been messing around too. Why should they pause to get her back in the middle? Stubborn and curious, Michelle crosses her arms where she stands and gives them an expectant look.

Peter reacts first; he grabs the back of Brad’s neck and stretches up to kiss him. The instant their mouths meet, Michelle understands the three of them have a problem. Trading off sexual favours, these guys are ok, but being on two sides of the same kiss makes them competitive. Fucking weekend athletes. Countering the dominant neck-grab, Brad bats Peter’s arm away and takes his face in his hands. It’s not sweet, it’s controlling. Peter’s next move is yanking Brad’s body against his by crumpling the open front of his shirt in his fists. Oops, well, alright, Michelle decides. Maybe it’s better to put herself back in the equation.

Because she has no intention of babying Brad through this experience, when she slips between them, she puts her back to him. Picturing his disappointed face, she raises her arms.

“Take her shirt off,” Peter interprets, tearing his hoodie over his head in a flurry that peels the t-shirt beneath halfway up his torso.

It’s evident in his method that Brad isn’t interested in being told what to do with her. He makes sure to drag his hands over her as he takes his time. Maybe he’s being a dick about it—that’s what the narrowing of Peter’s eyes tells her as he stares at Brad around Michelle’s head—but she’s enjoying this. There’s something about having spent so much time with Brad and those hands that has her pressing back against his erection. She’s witnessed him performing countless practical tasks, like driving the stakes for ‘Trail Closed’ signs deep into semi-frozen ground with a sledgehammer to protect new plant growth in the spring, knotting a rope leash around the waist of one of their colleagues as overkill when they wade into a pond to collect a sample, or just his impressive typing speed. (Not as many words per minute as she logs, but still.) He’s only quick when he pushes the material above her breasts and shifts his hands down quickly to cover, then massage them. She can almost hear him internally screaming at Peter that he beat him to this, only she doesn’t care. He’s tugging her nipples now and she shuts her eyes with a sigh.

“You like that?” he asks into her ear, which is when Peter loses patience for this display and removes her shirt the rest of the way himself.

Michelle retaliates by dropping her arms and edging his shirt up his stomach while Brad continues to caress her chest, now also kissing her shoulder. Though Peter lets her remove his t-shirt herself, she can add a willingness to get naked quick to the few things she knows about him; he seems like he’d be just as happy to whip all his clothes off at once as go through the foreplay of undressing each other. She remembers what he said to her in the kitchen. He has his own aspirations for tonight and the grin he gives her when she gets his t-shirt off makes her wonder what he wants and how soon she’ll be giving it to him. Michelle can’t feel any part of her resisting. It’s… surprisingly freeing.

Brad shuffles behind her, slipping out of his shirt, and her heart leaps as his chest presses to her back, skin to skin. Peter makes a grab for her crotch, but she lifts her eyebrows wryly and spins to face Brad instead.

“This fucking skirt,” she hears Peter mumble behind her as he slides his hands up her thighs to play with the hem.

It’s not exactly a sexual fantasy she’s fulfilling when she digs her fingers into Brad’s hair and combs it back, but it’s definitely a fantasy. He just has great hair. Sometimes, when she’s bored in a meeting, she’ll look over at him and feel this compulsion to run her fingers through it. She discovers that the strands feel soft and wonderful, so there’s one dream realized.

As she’s moving the palm of her hand down to cup his cheek, she shifts her head to the side, catching Brad’s eye and nodding back towards Peter.

“Kiss him nicely,” Michelle instructs.

Brad’s dark eyes bore into hers for a moment, then he breaks the stare and looks to Peter.

“Let’s go, Parker.”

Satisfied, she gets out of the way, circling behind Peter. While he’s partly distracted by the kiss (tamer than last time, by the looks of it), she rests her hands on his waist. Then, Michelle thinks, Screw it, and feels him up all over his chest, shoulders, and stomach, before wending her way down to his hips. His jeans are probably really putting pressure on his erection right now. She’ll help. After flicking the button open, she means to move away, but… plans change. She’s barely dipping the tips of her fingers below the waist of his jeans when Peter pulls away from Brad’s insistent mouth to mutter, “Well, that’s not fair.”

Instead of continuing, Michelle delights in retreating. Peter’s protesting noise is absorbed by his friend’s lips and she pats his ass before going to tease Brad. First, she guides the hand Peter has on Brad’s shoulder up into his hair so he can share her joy at how touchable it is. Then, she grazes her palms down his back. His friend’s body is dense with muscles, like somebody who goes to the gym a lot, where Brad’s is lean. Their work is a decent split between time indoors and outside, fairly physical, so she knows he has strong legs, good lungs, all the endurance he needs for the days they have to park far from a trailhead or navigate gullies. She forgot to ask what position they each play on their soccer team, but she’ll be concerned with another type of position for the foreseeable future.

To keep things even, Michelle unbuttons Brad’s pants. He makes a needful sound and goes momentarily loose between her body and Peter’s. This is not the reaction she expected from a man so socially comfortable, who apparently maintains a far better work/life balance (and, presumably, a steadier sex life) than she has lately. These noises, which continue as she works his zipper down against the push of his erection, expose him. He makes himself vulnerable. Something zinging through Michelle’s body compels her to take advantage.

She and Peter propel Brad’s co-operative body towards the bed. The guys land with a thump and continue kissing; Peter’s fingers form a gun as he angles Brad’s jaw, driving his tongue into his friend’s mouth. Michelle stares at them, breathing hard for having done nothing. Not breaking the kiss, Brad raises a hand to reach for her, but she’s quicker than that, dropping to her knees. She and the band of his underwear get along immediately—it’s easy to uncover his dick and the elastic cradles him instead of trying to snap back into place against his abdomen. Though the access with his pants still on isn’t amazing, she kisses his stomach, then the head of his cock. Up above, Brad moans.

With a smirk, Michelle repositions a little on her knees and grasps her friend’s thighs. He’s whimpering. He’s full-on whimpering. She leans in and licks slowly up his length. Her heels are already starting to bother her, so she reaches back and tugs them off one at a time. The next thing she means to do is gather her hair out of the way as she shallowly sucks Brad’s erection and strands swing forward, trying to tangle in his open zipper and stick to the saliva she’s coating him in, but Peter’s hand is there first. Still making out with Brad (she can hear it if she can’t see it), he encircles her hair in his grip and rests his fist lightly on her shoulder. Dammit. She’s a soft touch for his soft touch, closing her eyes to the sensation of his knuckles brushing her skin. This stranger is ruining the nice underwear she put on tonight.

“Please, Michelle, please,” Brad breaks free of Peter’s mouth to say.

He reaches out to hold her ribs, cup her breasts, but while he and his friend might share the field on Saturdays or whenever, they don’t seem to be on the same team tonight.

“Nope,” Peter informs him. “I get her next.”

“None of that possessive shit,” she warns.

“Can I please have you next?”

“You must be a real pain for your friends,” Michelle guesses sarcastically, letting him guide her over to his lap instead of Brad’s. (Who’s probably looking sour. She doesn’t know. Her eyes are glued to Peter’s.)

“No pain, I promise. I’ll be gentle.”

She rolls her eyes and settles in, straddling him.

“Oh my—” There is no ‘god’ because he kisses her before she can finish.

That’s his second annoying offense in seconds and she’s going to let him know. Really, she is. But he’s reminding her that he never let go of her hair by lifting it and slipping his hand against the nape of her neck to caress her skin. Michelle angles her hips and grinds up and down the swell in his jeans. Peter doesn’t mess around stroking her legs and hips, he just darts both hands beneath her skirt and traces the edges of her underwear where they curve around her thighs and narrow between them. She can feel him draw the fabric aside and gasps into his mouth, anticipating his fingers, when Brad tips the both of them over.

It’s disorienting, but they twist onto their sides and her friend scoots close behind her, so she decides she doesn’t mind.

“You’re not getting out of this,” Peter speaks quietly against her mouth when she thinks he’s about to kiss her again.

Michelle finds herself smiling, almost laughing, as he flips her skirt up and elects to take her underwear off. There’s only so much he can do like this, so she takes over, kicking them to the floor. That’s annoying offense number three; those underwear are sexy and she thought she’d be showing them off some before they hit the hardwood. Weirdly, Peter’s disregard only makes her smile broaden.

“Like I was trying,” she quips.

“Are we bantering,” Brad checks, “or are we fucking?”

“Dude, I am so sorry for the people you sleep with. Banter is an important part of the process,” Peter instructs.

“Fuck you, Parker.”

“And when you do, I guess I can’t expect any banter. I’ll adjust my expectations.”

“I’ll adjust your nose with my fist,” Brad responds in a playful tone. Michelle isn’t completely sold and she wavers, sandwiched between the two of them.

“Cool,” she says, “but actually, I am here to get laid.”

Two sets of male hands collide where her thighs are pressed together. She takes a deep breath at their enthusiasm, unable to tell whose fingers are skating along the skin just above her pubic hair and whose are subtly attempting to wedge between her legs.

“After you,” Brad says smoothly.

“Thanks, man.”

Her friend’s hands retreat a short distance and Peter insinuates one of his thighs between hers to create some space.

“This ok?” he checks, sweet face even sweeter horizontal.

“Be my guest,” Michelle says, copying Brad’s formality and reaching up and back to squeeze his shoulder so he realizes. She gets a kiss on her neck in response.

Peter’s fingers run slickly through her arousal. It’s a methodical mapping, feeling as though it’s meant to arouse her rather than him, but their eyes meet and he’s wearing an expression like he’s the one being fondled, though his erection cleaves to his abdomen, twitching under his clothes as he fingers her.

“You’re teasing me,” she points out, pulse jumping at her inner thigh.

“Am I not supposed to?”

Michelle tries to rock harder against the pass of his fingers and he moves them away with a grin and a chiding, “Ah!”

“Just give her what she wants,�� is Brad’s disgruntled input.

She turns to watch as he sits up and undresses from the waist down. He gives her a smile like they’re on the same side, demonstrated by him advocating for her pleasure—something Michelle’s quite comfortable doing on her own. And yet, alright, her friend’s heart is in the right place, and it is difficult to monitor and decipher the fluctuating moods and responses of two other people, and his directive is obeyed. Peter’s fingers return and push through the wetness he helped generate, touching her entrance and gliding inside her, one finger, then two. Michelle groans deep in her throat because finally.

Brad lies down at her back again and, with Peter working her up, she fumbles behind her and grabs her friend’s ass to encourage him closer. She can feel him hard and hot against her, partly touching her rumpled skirt, partly her skin. He rubs against her and reaches an arm around, greedily squeezing her hip, then sweeping down to feel for her clit.

She’s sweating between their bodies, breathing hard and shuddering involuntarily when Brad gets his fingers positioned to trap her clit and begin gradually cracking her mind like peanut brittle. Where he’s painstaking, Peter’s exultant. He increases the pace of his fingers until they’re shuttling in and out of her. Michelle grips Brad’s wrist with one hand, Peter’s neck with the other, then switches, then moves both hands, grappling for some constancy that the part of her brain currently squashed beneath her need for satisfaction knows she’s not gonna get. Her hips are writhing in their hands as a clear goal fights its way through the fog of lust: unzip Peter’s jeans. It’s tricky, with the over- and underpass of arms, but she does it and he thanks her with a sloppy kiss that only seems to land on her mouth by miracle.

“Close,” she gasps.

Behind her, Brad groans and nips at the base of her neck, making her shake. He’s humping her quickly, pushing with his hips as he pulls back with his fingers on her clit. Good thing Peter hooks his fingers firmly inside her so he doesn’t get jostled off this ride. Good thing too that his curling motion strikes her so, so right. Michelle cries out and comes, his fingers still pumping ruthlessly inside her, Brad pinching her clit, and then coming himself; she feels the jet spurt up her back, probably some on her skirt too.

Which is why she did not borrow clothes for this threesome.

Peter’s expression is impish as he tries to keep coaxing her through the pleasure, but she pushes at his chest and he finally takes his hand away.

“Oh my god,” Michelle sighs, flopping back and half onto Brad.

“Go team,” her friend pants from beneath her.

“Yeah. You guys have some kinda cheer you do at your games?”

“Sometimes we bump chests,” Peter offers, hands suddenly on her boobs.

She twists, trying to see Brad’s face without lifting up. Her temple makes contact with his chin.

“Does your friend have an off switch?”

“If he did, I’d skip that and just pull the plug,” Brad says. He wraps an arm around her and she wiggles until he relaxes the hold, forcing him to make it less territorial.

“Aww,” Peter says, managing to cup her breasts in a perfunctory way, like he’s pushing them up to prevent under-boob sweat while she cools off post-orgasm, “you guys are bantering. I knew you could do it. Also,” he adds, “I don’t know if anyone happens to be keeping track, but I’m the only one who hasn’t gotten off.”

“That sucks, man.”

With effort, Michelle sits up and glares at Brad’s unconcerned face.

“Don’t be a dick,” she says.

“Yeah, Brad,” Peter joins in.

Shaking her head, she puts her back to her friend and checks Peter’s face for her go-ahead. He nods in rapid approval, so she grips the waist of his open jeans and pulls down while he lifts his ass from her bed. Fuck, the three of them never even got under the sheet. Then again, it’s easier to be mobile above it. Plus, it’s an extra layer between her expensive mattress and the fluid drying on her spine.

Because Peter doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who cares to be undressed layer by layer, Michelle doesn’t striptease herself with taking off his clothes slowly. At some point, he kicked his shoes away, meaning it’s straightforward to yank the boxers and jeans down his legs. Her intention is to remove them completely. He doesn’t seem to have a hell of a lot of regard for her intentions.

“That’s far enough, I swear,” he says, when she has his jeans around his shins. “I’m good. Nike time. Just do it.”

“Just do what exactly?” Michelle asks indulgently. She rests a hand on his naked thigh and tries not to stare openly at his dick, red as a slap.

“Anything. Whatever you want. Brad says you’re multitalented.”

Brad rolls over lazily to glare at Peter.

“What the hell, Parker? Don’t make it sound like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I talk about Michelle like that!”

“I get it,” she says, cutting him off. Please shut up, Peter, she thinks. “You talk to him about work. You appreciate me as a co-worker.”

“That’s definitely why I’ve heard so much about you,” Peter agrees provokingly. “Because he appreciates you as a co-worker.”

“You know what?” Brad bites out.

“What?”

Michelle rolls her eyes and opts to terminate this snippy little back and forth by grasping Peter’s cock and bending over to wrap her lips around the head. That shuts both of them up. Thank god, some fucking peace.

He emits a deep groan of approval and weaves his fingers into her hair, slightly bucking his hips. As she sinks to take him deeper, she hears another groan—hoarse with an entirely different emotion—coming from Brad. She doesn’t stop. If he has something to say, he can damn well use his words. Michelle clutches the inside of Peter’s muscular thigh and sucks as she starts to withdraw only to plunge him farther into her mouth. Peter’s hand finds hers and tangles their fingers together next to his hip, catching some of the sheet in his grip too. The gesture dizzies her heart.

While he’s seeing god, Brad’s apparently seeing red, because he taps, then tugs, at her shoulder, until she pulls off of Peter and shoots her friend an impatient look.

“What?”

“I’ll do that,” he says, nodding towards Peter’s straining, saliva-slicked erection.

“Somebody better fucking do it,” Peter says in the tragic tone of an established sufferer. They ignore him for the moment.

“You want to?” Michelle asks skeptically.

When Brad averts his eyes from hers, she realizes that, no, he doesn’t want to, he just doesn’t enjoy watching her blow Peter. She wavers, wondering if she should cancel tonight halfway through. Maybe that would be sacrificing what she wants for the self-esteem of these two men, but they’re just so goddamn annoying. They’re supposed to be friends and they’re acting like rivals. Michelle doesn’t owe loyalty to either of them, she’s nobody’s girlfriend, and yet she’s getting the feeling that she needs to pick a side. Even a novice like her can tell this isn’t the way a threesome’s meant to go. If they were worse at this, she might be able to walk away.

Abruptly, Brad kisses her, then nudges her gently aside as he drops to his elbows to pick up where she left off. Peter draws a fraying breath. Well, either these two aren’t combative enough to present her with an ultimatum, or they just want to get laid as badly as she does. If Brad bites Peter or some shit though, she’s throwing them both out and leaving the necessary medical care in their hands. Michelle will not be responsible for these men and their egos.

Peter tweaks her fingers, their hands still clasped. She leans in close to observe his heavy breathing and the way his hair’s sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“I still want you,” he whispers. The words are like static shock, like a finger tracing unexpectedly down her neck. “And you better be quick because I think Brad thinks he’ll get extra points for speed.”

He gasps, eyes rolling back, and Michelle instinctively cups his neck, running the pad of her thumb along his throat. She doesn’t glance over at Brad; hearing the frantic wet noises paints a sufficiently informative picture.

“You think you can concentrate while he’s doing that?”

“Totally.” Immediately, a desperate, guttural croak leaves Peter’s lips.

“You sure?”

“No, but I still want to put my tongue inside you and that should count for—uhhh!—something.”

“Such as?” she asks with a wry smile, straightening her legs out so she can remove her unspeakably defiled skirt.

“Hell if I know, my concentration was pretty shitty to begin with.”

“Center yourself,” Michelle says in the calm, instructive tone of a yoga tutorial as she levers herself over his chest and rests her ass lightly on the hard planes of his pecs.

“Brad,” Peter begs, “cut me some slack for one fucking minute, dude.”

“One minute, huh?” she teases.

“Are you doubting me?”

“Peter Parker, I don’t even know you.”

But, somehow, she’s beaming down at him as her hair falls around her shoulders. For an instant, he looks completely focused on her and not the sound of Brad switching from giving him head to pumping him in a fist (his version of slack-cutting, evidently). Peter eyes her from her face down to where her legs are spread above his body. Then back to her face.

“I’d like for you to.”

Her teasing expression softens. She parts her lips to respond and he wrenches her forward, onto a mouth that opens at once. He licks up into her, then keep his tongue tensed and prods her clit back and forth. Michelle curls into herself, thighs suddenly snug against the sides of his head, fingers locked in his hair.

This is, perhaps, the single event within the larger experience that sells her on threesomes. Peter’s mouth feels incredible on its own (like he’s fusing the peanut brittle shards of her mind back together again and going too far, melting them into goo), but the intermittent moaning that leaves it due to Brad’s contribution down below means Michelle’s riding something that licks, sucks, and vibrates. She’s a mess. Tilted forward, she’s nearly crying out to plant her hands on the bed and just grind across Peter’s tongue, but the hand not hold hers has her hip in a formidable hold and she can’t reach far enough to be comfortable. Each time she thinks to force her eyes open and check his face to make sure he’s enjoying this as much as she is (and still breathing), Peter’s eyelids are flickering as he absorbs the combined pleasure of taking from Brad and giving to Michelle. She’s shaking and trying not to get too rough with him, smoothing a hand over the hair she’s been practically pulling out at the roots. Peter counters with a quick smack to her ass before seizing her hip again. Fine, she won’t be nice.

Michelle shifts and rolls her clit against the tip of his nose. It positions her entrance above his wide-open mouth and he slides his tongue thickly back inside her. The sound of him tongue-fucking her is graphic. He loses his rhythm and gets even more aggressive with his mouth—she figures he’s close to release. Peter groans and arches his neck and chin up when he finishes, so she lifts swiftly away, hating to do it, aching and slippery.

She throws herself off of him, collapsing back onto her elbows with her thighs quivering. Dazedly, she observes Brad hurrying from the room with his lips clamped together (not a swallower then—the things she’s learning about her friend tonight). Peter’s lying there, spent. With her emotions high, their tableau causes her to despair. It’s over. It’s all over. One of them’s too wiped to carry on, the other’s just finished giving oral and won’t want to return just to bring her to orgasm. Michelle lets her head hang back and swipes two fingers over her clit, catching it and adding pressure on the upstroke.

Peter rolls over like he’s risen from the dead.

“You don’t—” she begins, but then he’s there, between her quaking knees, suctioning his mouth to her and using his tongue to fiddle around with her clit. His arms are limp and heavy as they hold her thighs down and open. Any energy he has is converted into strokes and twirls, from there into her overwhelmed sobs. Brad walks back in to Michelle yelling, “Peter, fuck!” as she climaxes with her head thrown back and his pressed insistently into her groin by her stiff hand. When Brad comes to sit on the bed, Peter’s leg kicks out and catches him right in the stomach. The kick drives him off the mattress and onto the floor with a thud.

Michelle scrambles away from Peter, to the edge of the bed, as Brad stands and starts putting his clothes on, his back to her.

“Are you going?”

She sees Brad’s shoulders rise and fall as he sighs, but he doesn’t answer her. Once he’s dressed from the waist down, he lifts his shirt from the floor with a swish and slips his arms in as he walks back out of the room. Uh oh. Michelle glances to Peter who appears maddeningly unsurprised. She yanks at the bedsheet until he moves off of it, but touches her wrist as she wraps it hastily around herself to chase after their friend.

“I’m sorry if I wrecked this for you,” he says.

“No.” She shakes her head. “He wanted tonight to be something it was never going to be and I thought, when he invited you, that he could handle it, but… I gotta go talk to him.”

“I think I’m already lucky he didn’t jump up and break my nose, so I better stay here.”

“Alright.”

Michelle almost stumbles trying to keep the end of the sheet off the floor, but she gets to Brad while he’s still buttoning his shirt, patting his pockets to check for wallet, phone, keys, maybe the little Swiss Army knife he carries because it always comes in handy eventually.

“Brad,” she says, cautious in cotton and bare feet.

He cuts a look at her with his dark eyes.

“Better not,” he suggests.

“You’re really leaving?”

“Do you need me to stay?”

She hesitates, leaning away from him slightly at the question.

“Well, it was supposed to be—”

“No,” he interrupts. “Do you need me to stay?”

His eyebrow twitches with everything he’s suppressing: hurt, hope, jealousy. Brad’s smart, he knows the answer, but he still ventures forward with grave determination, the way he’d lead a group of their colleagues down a forest deer path that may or may not be crossed with poison ivy. But Michelle is not something for him to sweep clear and overcome.

“We can only be friends, Brad,” she tells him, straight and honest. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy doing this with you…”

He grins ironically, giving her a glimpse of his bright, perfect teeth.

“Please. You two were shutting me out before Parker booted me in the stomach.”

She doesn’t really have a defense for that. They might have touched Brad, grabbed him, licked and kissed him, but none of that compared to how she felt whenever Peter took her hand. She’s actually a little scared to walk back into her bedroom and face that.

“He didn’t mean to,” Michelle asserts awkwardly. Brad lifts his eyebrows. “Probably,” she qualifies. He nods tiredly.

“If he tells you I was a dick to him after our next game…”

“What makes you think I’ll still be in contact with him then?” Brad gives her a look and she frowns, chastened. “I’ll believe him,” she says instead, “and I won’t blame you.”

“This sucks,” he admits, smiling tightly at the floor.

“Can I get you a glass of water for the road? Transit fare?”

“I’d actually rather get out of here and begin the process of trying to forget what Peter’s dick looks like close up as soon as possible.”

She says nothing to champion the dick in question. That would be cruel.

“This was… something I hope we can laugh about someday,” Brad says, and quickly kisses her cheek.

“I’ll—” they say together.

“—text you tomorrow.”

“—see you on Monday,” Michelle says. “Oh. Uh…”

“Space,” he says, understanding.

“Probably good for right now.”

“Yeah.”

When he leaves, she locks the door and bangs her forehead against it. Fuck. She’s going to have to get a new job, isn’t she? Walking in to spot his heartbroken face every day is more than she wants to deal with. Their initiative has a bigger office downtown, not the outpost-like space they work out of. She can apply there. Probably should’ve ages ago, when she started outgrowing the place she’s at. She’ll miss traipsing around outside the city, having to check her legs for ticks, her hair for spiders, and her arms for dead-branch-inflicted scratches deep enough to require infection-preventative measures, but she can buy some fucking plants. Start a garden in her windowsill. Hike on the weekends. Regain some of that thankless grant application time by devoting it to projects more clout will actually allow her to push forward. Be the chooser instead of the beggar.

Michelle laughs at herself, faintly tipsy and two orgasms deep, standing alone in her entryway in a poor man’s frat party toga.

She gets herself the glass of water she offered Brad. She pees with her goddamn adult white sheet scrunched up in her lap like a bride’s dress on her wedding day. She strides back to the bedroom and drops the sheet at the door.

“Hello,” Peter says, perking up.

“Hello yourself.” The man is stark naked and unashamed. “You’ve been, what, chilling?”

“I also eavesdropped.”

“You’re a loser.”

“I’m the loser you haven’t kicked out of your apartment,” he points out. His gaze slips naturally to her chest as she climbs onto the bed on her knees and takes a seat beside his prone body.

“Why is that?”

She asks rhetorically, but Peter either doesn’t pick up on that or ignores it. She kinda likes that about him. Where Brad tries so hard with her, Peter leaves her room to try a little too.

“You like me.”

“Unfortunately, that is possible.”

“Unfortunately? Give me back those orgasms I gave you then,” he demands.

“Orgasm,” Michelle corrects, emphasizing the singular. “The first one was assisted. You can’t take full credit.”

“Bullshit.”

She shakes her head but Peter grabs the back of her knee, pulling her forward, stretching her out, until she’s on her back, laughing, and he’s hovering over her, inches from a kiss that she really, really wants to receive. Strange.

“Is not,” she tells him flatly.

“Then I’m earning that plural.”

“Oh yeah?”

Instead of kissing her or lowering himself down onto her or otherwise touching her in any way at all, Peter leaves. Michelle sits up and looks after him, baffled.

“Where are your washcloths?” he shouts from the bathroom 30 seconds later. A laugh bursts out of her.

“Tall cabinet next to the shower!”

She listens to him running water in the sink. Laughs again when he returns at a run.

“Flip over!” Peter says wildly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Come on, while it’s still hot. It’ll feel nicer.”

Michelle rolls her eyes and maneuvers onto her stomach. He washes her back with the warm cloth. He washes her back. She folds her arms under her head and pillows her cheek on them, candidly observing him. In a practical sense, Peter’s wiping away what Brad left behind, and buying himself time to get hard again, she’s certain. But it doesn’t all feel like practicality. Not when every pass of the cloth is so careful, or when Peter makes another sprinted trip to the bathroom to heat it up for her, or when he’s lying down alongside her by the end, beginning to lightly kiss her clean skin.

“I don’t understand you,” she hears herself confess.

“I’m an enigma,” he agrees. Michelle snorts.

“I do like you though.”

“Called it.”

He chucks the damp, cooling washcloth over the side of her bed and she glares at him.

“This room has wood floors. Which I pay for. As a feature of this apartment.”

“It’s not on the floor, it’s on my jeans.”

“So, it’s soaking into your jeans right now? That’s convenient for you.”

“Is it?” Peter asks vaguely. His hand is rubbing back and forth very low on her back.

“I’m assuming you’re not planning to get back into wet jeans tonight and make your way home.”

“I would if you asked me to,” he swears, giving her puppy-dog eyes.

“Are you forcing me to say this out loud?”

A winning smile. She sighs in exasperation and turns onto her side, propping her head up with her hand.

“Peter, would you like to stay over?”

“Do you want that?”

“You’re a pain,” she says for the second time. Peter continues smiling, waiting. Michelle takes a deep breath and keeps her eyes on his, not letting her gaze drift around the apartment that is nice but lonely, tranquil but lifeless. It has life with this surprising person in it. “I want that.”

He shuffles close to her with a grin.

“I want that,” he says, brushing his lips across hers.

“Mmm,” Michelle agrees. Her eyelids fall. She parts her lips for his tongue. His hand fits into the curve of her waist and slips over to touch her back. His thickening erection nudges her mons, then her abdomen as he swells against her. Her moan skips and drags and Peter clutches at her more purposefully, tipping her onto her back.

“Condom,” she remembers, and points him to the box tucked out of sight. Discrete for the fact that she bought it for use in a threesome with a work friend and a total stranger.

Peter holds up her copy of Frankenstein, resting beneath the box.

“You a fan?” he asks, returning it to its place and tearing open the wrapper on the condom.

“I’ve read it twice, but I think I prefer Dracula.”

“Aw, I’m a wolfman guy,” Peter offers. He puts the condom on like it’s a sock or a baseball cap; there’s definite familiarity there. And Michelle doesn’t care. “Dracula and Frankenstein’s monster are creepy, sure, but the wolfman is two different people: the regular guy and then this creature in the shadows during the full moon. I don’t know, I think there’s something really cool about that. You ever watch the old Lon Chaney movies?”

Ok, she more than likes him. She likes him quite a lot. Smiling, Michelle shakes her head.

“Well,” he says, but he stops talking then. There’s a depth to the look in his eyes as he gazes at her. She lets him in and stands as horizontal witness to his existence in blinks and breaths and the pound of his heart she can almost feel from here.

“Why don’t you get the light?”

Click.

In the dark, it’s less of a performance, not that Peter doesn’t clearly intend to perform. Michelle’s eyes rest without the light and she breathes deeply as Peter comes over her and kisses her neck. Her eyes are still adjusting while he takes a meandering route down her chest, pressing his mouth harder against her breasts. He licks across her nipple; she scratches her nails up the back of his neck and into his hair. When she lets out the smallest huffing sound of enjoyment, he cups his hand between her thighs, skates a finger along her entrance. As if she wouldn’t be wet. As if the foreplay didn’t start the minute he walked back in with that warm cloth and draped it across her back.

“Any specific requests?” he asks, lifting his head from her chest. She can see his face now. Enough light gets in around the edges of her blinds. She runs her fingers through his loosely curling hair, then arches her body up against his.

“Don’t be gentle.”

Michelle feels the eager tremor of his hand against her inner thigh as he lines himself up and eases inside her. His breathing catches. She tilts her hips and raises her knees from the bed, urging him in, farther, all the way. Peter withdraws and she’s assuming he’ll build up to what she asked for, but he slams back in. Though she clenches her teeth around the sensation of him filling her so hard and so well, a whine escapes.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” she acknowledges, accuses, admires.

He pauses, hands planted to either side of her on the bed.

“Like I said, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve been waiting for this since I convinced Brad to tell me your name.”

She wants to think and hide and hold him close, but she can reflect later. He seems to agree. Peter’s thrusts are rough and rhythmic. Pounding into her like a machine one minute, he’ll be playfully grabbing her wrists and licking her neck the next. When she tightens her legs around him, he lets her change their positions, only to haul her beneath him again—on her stomach this time—as he rocks in and out and wedges his hand under her to rub her clit. They chase each other across her mattress and Michelle comes clawing at her pillow, invigorated by the certainty that this is the best time she’s ever had in bed. Peter bites her earlobe as he snatches one of her scrabbling hands and spills into the condom.

He doesn’t help her remake her bed with clean sheets because he claims to be “bad at it.” She’s debating the potential truth of that when he returns with a bowl of popcorn after leaving her alone to do it herself, joins in, and somehow puts a lavender pillowcase on inside out. Michelle sets it right with a laugh and they get back in bed together, popcorn and her laptop playing Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man between them.

She slips away to shower after Peter falls asleep with his head on her lap. When she gets back, she quietly removes the bowl and the laptop. The bed’s a king—she’s used to her space and she doesn’t need to sleep close to him—but Michelle squirms into the warmth his body radiates. He stirs enough to breathe in the scent of her hair, kiss her forehead, and thrust his hand into hers. Confused by the gesture, she frowns at his face, with its softly closed eyes.

“By the way,” Peter mumbles, shaking her hand, “nice to meet you.”

Michelle smiles and pats his arm as he drops it over her, instinctively pulling her close.

#my writing #thotumn #peter parker is a thot #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones #brad davis #been sitting with this done for almost a month lol

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sciderman · 9 months ago

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qould... Wouldn't stable Wade Wilson just be.. Like, dead. Cause... Yknow...

well, if we're going for the in-canon explanation of why he's so freaky weird being that his cells are in constant flux then - oh yeah. yep. i think canon is really, really wishy washy about wade's powers and his biology, same as any superhero buuut... there's basis in canon that the only reason wade's alive is because his freaky cancer cells and his freaky healing factor are in a constant stalemate and keep each other in-check. so he's actually alive because all the cells in his body are freaky unstable.

chronically unstable man in every conceivable sense of the word craves stability more than anything. hilarity ensues.

i think wade's such an interesting character in that he's at war with his biology constantly. he can't be stable. it's literally hardwired into his body and brain. to the point where even the terrain of his skin isn't the same from minute to minute.

obsessed with it,, obsessed with it. that telepaths can't read him because his brain is ever-shifting sand. that a palm-reader can't tell his future, because his skin keeps changing. that he's grabbing and grasping for stability and wants to trust himself but is literally, physically condemned to instability and uncertainty.

man is doomed by his biology. i love him.

#sci speaks #wade wilson #sci talks comics

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polygamyff · 5 years ago

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40. Part 4

Looking down at the crib watching Reign drink her milk, she is growing quick to be honest. I did prefer feeding her myself, but she is refusing to drink, she wants to hold her bubzy and her bottle all by herself. Reign is just staring at me and I am staring at her, she is here trying to be independent and I don’t like it “daddy misses feeding you” like where did she catch this from because literally in the morning I was feeding her, not tonight. She has seen her grandparents and is now acting brand new “I will wake up for her now ok” Nalah came back into the room “mhmm, well I moved the crib here for a reason, to be honest I can’t rest now. I rather do it” pouting at Reign “just sleep Maurice, then you can be in a better mood in the morning. She may actually sleep well tonight so this is a bonus” I could just watch her all day “thank god you put a baby grow on her, you are terrible. Like this roaming around in her diaper got to stop, she needs clothes” moving back from the crib “well she is me, if I am walking around in my boxers then she is walking around in her diaper so there is that. But I do appreciate you doing this for me, I have a lot to think about. Well dad wants to murder me first of all” Nalah sniggered “he does, never thought dad would want to do that to his favourite child but he does, I think he just wanted you to settle. That is it and you found it, then you ruined it so he is annoyed. So leave her now, you go and rest up. Also, Robyn posted a picture, you might want to snoop on that but leave her ok? Just let her do her thing” nodding my head “I will” looking down in the crib “goodnight Mi Amor, daddy will see you in the morning and we can do some fun things together” reaching down and stroking the side of her face, Reign moved her bottle away from her mouth “no baby, you drink it” she is here offering it me “you are growing too quick relax for me, I love you” I better go to bed then “goodnight, and get me if you need anything” walking out of the bedroom, I need to rest actually.

Shit is weird now, rather lonely actually. Pulling my covers over my legs, let me catch up with my messages. My dad wants me to tell Robyn what to do, he wants me to tell her to move here like she would listen to me. But then I have to buy her a house, I need to discuss this with Wade. I would need to draw up real papers and discuss this, because if she switches up on me and doesn’t allow me to see Reign then I will have the paperwork to go by, I just need to arrange a meeting with him. Once Robyn has finished trying to annoy my life, I will talk to her then. Unlocking my phone and tapping on Instagram, social media is the devil, like I am only using it to stalk Robyn, I mean she called Odell a stalker, but I am doing the same. My feed loaded up and Leon has posted a selfie of himself, they are in Vegas now. I just find it funny, because I was supposed to go there and it’s like it was done on purpose, I am not sure. Tapping on his story, so Robyn got some new friends. Her and this girl are close to be honest, they are always in the background. The next story played “day two of my besties birthday, how we feeling?” Leon said and panned the camera to Robyn, she looked at the phone and then turned away “a mess, stop” I smiled, she is pretty without make up “we shall see if my friend drinks today, she had a pre-drink already so yeah, Jacob how are we feeling back there” Leon lifted his phone up, his little friend put a finger up, he is not amused “we could have taken the car!” he shouted and Leon cackled. The story ended, Robyn is drinking a lot like she is just drinking when she is not a heavy drinker, I don’t think anyways, scrolling down my feed. Ally is actually going out for once, I want to comment saying did I approve this, but I won’t ruin her mood, laughing to myself. Scrolling down, Bonita is posting selfies now, this Asian chick and Robyn are close like she is always there with her, reading the caption “a little makeup hid a lot” I read aloud, she don’t need makeup but I guess it is what it is because she will be having fun.

“Come on!!” Asia shouted, drinking some more water before I ran towards the door “I am so not ready for this, like I feel tired. So, where we going” I asked, Leon turned around “looking like a whole meal somewhere fancy, I got some tickets for 1Oak so we can party, I am glad you are drinking water. Keep it that way” I think I am going to keep it that way for a while, unless I am feeling myself which I will soon when I get there “do I look ok? I literally didn’t have the time to get a good dress out, this was so last minute, my boobs aren’t leaking, are they?” Leon looked at my dress “you barely have any but no” he is so annoying “would you like me take care of your phone for you? Don’t want no dike app happening?” I laughed shaking my head “fuck you! Like seriously, it was a mistake. I can’t even bring myself to text him back, I left him on a read. Like what the fuck do you say to him, like oh my god. I am shameful, I was begging for dick” Jacob pressed the elevator button “and? Luckily, he wasn’t in Cali or you would have been there, I just think better the devil you know. Clearly, he would have gave it, don’t be ashamed. But from now on, you are known as dike app because that was hilarious” the elevator doors opened “like honestly get that billionaire dick, nobody is judging that, girl I would too” Asia said, I just get somewhat freaky when I drink and I want dick but I think I will keep my phone to myself.

I swear we just walked by Scott Disick, I had to double take “oh ok, we did” I said to myself, Leon is always making us travel like where the fuck did he book us in, a table or what “come, come. Here we are” we have something to sit on, thank god. I am tired, sitting down on the seats and then looked up “so Leon just sat us across the hood niggas” that is great, there are so many of them and probably sharing one bottle “Leon said, you can only have that one glass” waving Jacob off “get me something more, tell him he ain’t my dad!” I shouted, Asia laughed “you have such good legs you know” she touched my leg, sipping my whiskey “I get that a lot, one time. This guy was trying to flirt with me and he goes I should be on a commercial with these legs, I said that was boring. Like come on, I want you to actively be like I want them legs around me, some guys are so lame” shaking my head “they are, I need you to be in my life more so I can find a man, the men just attract to you” bopping my head “baby! I like your style!” I sang with my drink in hand “I will get you a man, maybe one of those niggas across us” I laughed, Asia side eyed me.

Placing the blunt between my lips watching OT Genasis do his thing, I didn’t even know he was playing here tonight “I’m in love with the coco” I sang as I blew out the smoke from my lips “hit my plug that’s my cholo, aye!!” I laughed at Leon “If you snitching I go loco” me and Leon pointing at each other singing, Asia took the blunt from me. We having to share this one, she is running low on weed. Bopping my head “I’m in love with the coco” leaning down and picking my drink up, I am only having one shot in these, no double so I should be ok “Robyn!” Asia grabbed my arm, picking my drink up and turning to her. She pointed, seeing this guy stood in our section “what?” I said to her “he wants to speak to you” she said, I laughed “me? Why?” I looked at him, he is not ugly but still I have seen better. He stepped around Asia “my homie want to say you look good, why you ain’t come here to us” looking over to his homies “which one?” I questioned, I mean I am not going there actively but I am just asking “the one in the white tee” now he is even worse, I don’t think so “tell him, when each one of his homies can buy their own drink and not share one bottle maybe then” looking over at this guy, he just stared at me like I swore at his mom “so you been looking?” he questioned “hard to miss, anyways” turning around, he can tell his friend whatever the hell he want.

Downing my drink, placing the glass down “I am going” I said turning to Asia “where!?” she spat “hotel, I am not feeling too good. Stay, I am ok, the hotel is down the road. Tell Leon I am going, he has gone, see you back there” holding Asia’ arm as I stepped down “no, I will come with you. You can’t go, you’re tipsy” Asia grabbed her bag, I didn’t want her to come, the night is still young “we can text them” nodding my head, I do need someone actually. I think I drank more then I should have, Asia and I linked arms walking around the crowd “leaving me there for? Leon and Jacob make me feel like a third wheel, girl” I chuckled, oh my god I am feeling it right now “you wanted to go alone, you’re drunk again” I just laughed “mhmmm” I did drink more than I should, again “I need to pee, you come with? Or stay here?” I pointed at the wall “stay, I rather not” unlinking our arms and I went to the wall, leaning against it. Asia went to go and pee, lifting my bag up. Trying to find the zip “you waiting on someone?” looking up from my bag “no” I said frowning “you told my homie that I was broke, I am not broke” who is this guy “ok” I shrugged, I can’t open my bag and this is annoying me “let me” moving my hand away and he unzipped the bag for me, looking up and seeing him “oh the white tee man” I laughed “you need a drive back? You don’t need to be walking” shaking my head “I am fine, thanks” all I wanted was my phone “It’s not nice to call a man broke, I was just interested in you, but you are stuck up” is this guy going to keep on harassing me “then move! Clearly I am not interested in you and your broke friends” Asia finally came out “you will regret that” he said “kiss my ass” Asia frowned at him as she gestured we walk away.

I am so hungry “shall we find food? I am glad I met you” we both near fell and laughed “no, let’s not. Robyn you are dragging me everywhere!” Asia spat, “no we are not, we are going back to the hotel room!” Asia dragged me to the opposite side “mhmm, well I want food, I will go to bar” entering our hotel, letting Asia hand go “my heels need coming off” sitting on the floor “you can’t be doing that!” Asia laughed saying “I can” I said as I fumbled with the buckle “I am getting food here” I want food “well I am going back to the room, you will be ok here then?” nodding my head “just help me with this then you go” I am fine here.

Pulling a face now hearing my work phone ring, that is too much ringing, first my family phone and now my work phone and I can’t be bothered, I am trying to sleep here. Reaching over and grabbing my phone, squinting my eyes at the screen and it is Robyn calling me, my eyes widened at her calling me “hello” answering the phone, there was a long silence on the phone. I can hear the light chatter of people in the background, but I can hear Robyn on the other end of the phone “do you miss me?” she finally spoke, hearing Robyn’ voice in my ear, elegant but deeper than normal, if I close my eyes I can just picture her “you know I do” I replied back finally, Robyn hummed “Maurice” she said in a whisper “I..” she drifted off “I want you to come here, I want you. I want you to fly here and teach me a lesson. I have my legs out, my side boob showing, I want daddy to fuck me. I want you to wear a suit and meet me” I smirked, like I am not sure how to take this “where are you exactly?” I asked, like is she playing me “at a bar, I mean I could go back and ask the nigga that wanted me at the club but I want you” she wants me to come where “where?” I asked again “thank you for the drink, and could you tell my dick appointment where I am” Robyn said, what is she doing “you want me to tell them where you are?” some guy said, I frowned “tell Maurice Davenport where I am, tell him for me” this Robyn got me feeling a type of way “hello?” this random guy is on the phone “who are you?” I asked him “the bartender, she told me to speak to you. Are you really Maurice Davenport?” he spat, I can hear Robyn’ giggle in the background “he’s my dick appointment, tell him to hurry up” Robyn said “the lady here, she is at the bar in The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas” is she now “what is she like to you? Is she drunk?” I asked him “erm, she is intoxicated yes, she is very pretty and is smoking and staring at me” nodding my head “bye” he said, Robyn is in Vegas I am here, what she want me to do “I am waiting, every thirty minutes I will be drinking, so the longer you take, the more drunk I become, you make anything happen so make it happen” she disconnected the call, is this even real right now.

Fixing my tie as I knocked on Nalah’ bedroom door, I mean I can make anything happen like having to take another private jet because mine is not ready “Nalah” knocking on the door again “can I come in?” she needs to hurry, she is wasting my time “yeah come in!” opening the door “what are you doing?” Nalah said in annoyance “I need to go to Vegas, it’s an emergency” I can’t see Nalah’ reaction from here but I am guessing she is not happy “why? Maurice, you have Reign here?” nodding my head “that I know but I have you here, I need to see Robyn. She needs me, it’s important so please. It’s not work it is Robyn so please look after her?” Nalah scoffed “sure, whatever she wants you for. Is that dick appointment thing happening then?” I shrugged “but I will be back” closing the door, I am wearing a suit like she wanted but if she is playing me, I will be so annoyed with her. If I could just run there I would, I can’t wait to see her. I mean she wants me so of course I am going, I was so concerned about her with the texting business and if she was ok but she called me drunk again but she is my master and I am the dog, I am going there. I should be there max five hours, but I hope the jet can get me there even quicker, I can only hope because she will be drinking for every thirty minutes I take.

Looking down at my Rolex and it’s been five hours, I am wondering if she is there or not but she is not answering my calls, maybe this is her way to make me come back I am here now “thank you” grabbing my bag and getting out of the SUV, I don’t have the time to be waiting for the driver to walk me I need to go, this is a nice hotel to be honest. Walking into the hotel lobby, I can’t wait to see her, I hope she is there still. I have missed her a lot, even though I am her dick appointment I rather be her dick appointment “your bar?” I asked the receptionist “which one?” I groaned out, of course there is like six of them, I am tired, and I have rushed here. Getting my phone out from my pocket “actually, can you find out where Robyn is. Ask your bar staff, ask them in every one of them. A lady that has been there for few hours, please” the lady smiled at me “for you sir” they know who the hell I am, I would always be around here. I sighed out heavily turning around, I am very much tired but for Robyn I guess “oh shit, what are you doing here!?” looking up seeing Leon “Maurice, don’t be angry with me” I am annoyed with him “mhmm right, so you lost Robyn?” I said, “oh is he the dike app?” some guy said “wow, you really Maurice Davenport, wow. Hi. I am Jacob, we were there through the texting. So, the demon summoned you here?” he said “she called me” Jacob laughed “she took my advice, that girl. I said to her have sex with your ex, better off that way anyways. Have fun, we are going. She is safe” the guy dragged Leon away “I am sorry Maurice!” Leon shouted “sir, she is in Clique Bar” turning around “thank you! Appreciate it, I will be back to book a room” let me go and get her.

The bar is quiet, I mean people have left to go to their rooms but there she is at the bar. I sighed out, she is really here, and she wasn’t lying about the side boob thing. Her dress is very revealing, walking slowly towards Robyn. I am guessing that is the bar man that spoke to me, they will be closing soon. The bartender pointed at me and moved, Robyn looked behind her “you took your time” placing my bag on the bar stool “woah” placing my hand on her back “and you have been drinking since huh?” Robyn giggled “I guess my dick came” licking my top lip watching her get off the bar stool “listen, I came here for you. This whole dick appointment thing is not the case, I came here for you yeah. I did miss you” wrapping my arms around her “you owe me a wedding night” Robyn stumbled “I owe you a lot” the bartender came over “you want me to put the bill on your room?” he said “I will pay it’s ok” Robyn’ side of her face pressed against my chest, she lazily held me. Touching my pockets for my card “look after her, we had a lot to talk about but she won’t remember” the bartender said, getting my black card out “she is a sensitive soul” I said, he just smiled at me “I figured form her conversation, and some guys tried to take her earlier. The knew her, got rid of them” furrowing my eyebrows “what guys?” I questioned “I don’t know, they said they knew her from the club, and it seemed to have followed her here, they was adamant in taking her, she said they followed her but she is drunk talking too, I just told her to wait here, keep her safe so we spoke. Nice meeting you” he smiled at Robyn “you got yourself in trouble?” I asked her, she has her eyes closed.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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negasonicimagines · 5 years ago

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Things Change, pt. 2

author’s notes: this is only split into 2 parts because it’s kinda long. also, I hope the post-credits scene isn’t too weird, I realized there was a good cut-off point but what I’d written after was actually a good way to solidify a dynamic I like and therefore open up the ending a little more

content and trigger warnings: all of part 1, pre-story non-permanent character death, swearing, light sexual tones, implied depression

Yukio should’ve known that you and Ellie being friends wouldn’t bode well for her relationship with either of you. She takes a break to eat lunch and finds you and Ellie sitting together, catching on like wildfire - eating and showing each other memes on your phones. Doesn’t take much.

“Hi,” Yukio says, and the both of you turn to look at her.

“Hey,” you both respond, glaring at each other before laughing.

“What, uh… What happened?” Yukio asks.

“Well, you asked us both to be nicer to each other,” you say.

“Don’t be so humble, dipshit. She just saved my fucking life in training. Fucking Deadpool knocked Cable’s gun and made a shot ricochet off of one of the metal beams on the ceiling. It would’ve hit me if Y/N hadn’t pushed me out of the way. She took a pretty nasty hit. Show her.”

You stand up, Yukio sees the wide hole in your shirt, and she realizes she can no longer avoid the problem of her feelings for the both of you, now that you’re friends.

“Jeez, you didn’t have enough time to change?” Yukio teases, and you scoff.

“I was hungry. Crazy healing factor metabolism, and, of course, crazy healing factor stamina.”

“Just because we get along better doesn’t mean you can more brazenly flirt with my girlfriend. Don’t push it.”

“Who said I was flirting with your girlfriend?” You ask, popping up your eyebrows and failing to suppress a teasing smirk as you scroll through your phone. You could get used to this.

“HeyYukiocanwegotalkforasecond?” Ellie asks in a squeaky tone, at least, for her.

“Sure,” Yukio replies in a similarly-strained way.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “I was just messing around, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” Ellie argues. “You didn’t do anything, what you said just reminded me of something I forgot to talk to Yukio about this morning.”

“We’ll be right back,” Yukio reassures. Once they’re out of earshot, she wonders: “What is it?”

“You know how I have my freaky predict-the-future dreams?” Ellie asks her girlfriend.

“Yeah... “ Yukio looks at her warily.

“Can I tell you something without you getting mad at me?” Ellie asks another question, and Yukio just scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Of course! Just get on with it, you’re making me anxious!”

“What if I told you that in some of these dreams, you and I… and Y/N… Are a couple…? Well, guess not a couple if it’s three people, but-”

Yukio sighs in relief.

“I’d say thank goodness, because I had no idea how to address the feelings I have for both of you… But you and Y/N have never gotten along!”

“Well, because she’s, like, totally in love with you, and you and I are in a relationship, so… Pretty clear cut conflict. But, now that- I mean, she’s just so…” Her eyes are drawn to you, sitting at the table looking a mixture of bored and nervous. “Things change.”

“Hey!” Yukio protests, giving her girlfriend a playful swat - so light it barely qualifies as one - on the arm. “Fine. We’ll work this whole three-people couple thing out. But you’ve gotta convince her,” the pink-haired girl challenges.

“Deal,” Ellie agrees with a smile.

You sit at a table in the dining room with Wade and Russell. Everyone’s required to be out of their rooms for the event (unless accompanied by their parents or doing something quick like using the restroom) so that students are easier to keep track of, in case of emergency.

“So, what happened with your parents?” Russell asks.

“Kid, you have got to stop asking questions.The code here is, ‘Are you looking forward to parent-teacher conferences?’”

“Well, we’re in the middle of them, so how useful is that?! I was just curious. Mine died when I was a baby.”

Lucky you, you think, before shrugging as if it will take away the dark thoughts. You envy him.

“Y/N!” One of Yukio’s dad’s, Maxwell, calls out, and you put your upbeat face back on before turning around.

“Mr. Kitsuna-Miller!” You respond, making your way over to him and his husband.

“Where’s Yukio?” Daichi, her other father, asks.

“Oh, she should be somewhere around here… She and the rest of the Welcoming Committee have worked so hard to pull this off, as they always do. Hm… You know, she might be meeting Ellie’s parents.”

“Ellie?” Maxwell wonders.

“Her girlfriend, Max,” Daichi clarifies.

“But I thought…” Maxwell’s brow furrows and he limply points at you.

“That may still be the case,” Daichi once again explains, and you feel your cheeks heat up. “Thank you, Y/N. It was good to see you. Let’s catch up later, okay?”

You nod in agreement, heading back to your seat with Wade and Russell. You and the latter both sigh, bored. While there are plenty of kids here whose parents don’t accept them or are otherwise out of the picture, there are also plenty here who are joyfully reuniting with one or more of their parents, and even some siblings.

You’ll never have siblings, now that your parents are aware of their ability to create an abomination. It’s the only time they’ve ever blamed themselves for anything, and they usually just blame each other.

“Come on, you two! Let’s play some cards or something. Who needs parents, anyway? They suck!” Wade tries to cheer you two up, but only earns glares from some of the parents in the room who overheard.

“I wonder what they were like,” Russell says quietly.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” you advise him. “Building up the perfect parents in your head to take the place of the ones that aren’t there will just make you feel more alone.”

“Well since somebody’s so good with words, why don’t we play Scrabble?” Wade suggests, and you scoff.

“Scrabble?” Russell asks. The orphanage wasn’t exactly a fun-filled place, so introducing him to the random little joys in life has become a hobby of both yours and Wade’s, as well as his other assorted acquaintances.

“You take the letters you’re given and put them on the board to make points, starting at the center before you play off of other played words. Wade and I can go first so you get the gist.”

After everyone has their seven letters, you pull out your phone to keep score. Wade’s puts down “RISE.” You put down “SEARCH.” Russell puts down “HOLD.” Wade puts down “ELK.” You put down “ELITE.” The game continues, each of you putting down letters and picking up new ones from the box to take their place.

“Y/N!” You turn at the sound of Yukio’s voice. Her parents have found her, and you figure your hypothesis was correct: Ellie and people who must be her parents - a kind-looking man and woman - are with Yukio and her dads.

You lift a hand as a wave, turning around and putting down “PRISM.”

“Fuck this! You’re totally looking at the letters!” Wade complains.

“Yeah, right,” Russell disagrees. “You’re the one looking at the letters, I saw you do it when Y/N went to get a drink.”

“Shut up, the trick is to get her to forfeit due to annoyance so we have a chance,” Wade stage-whispers, and you give him an attempted un-amused glare that really just turns into stifled laughter.

“Y/N,” Ellie gets your attention, now. “My parents want to meet you. I told them about today.”

“Seriously? It really wasn’t a big deal. Russell, you’re on letter guard duty,” you assign, moving the box closer to the boy before following Ellie over to a larger table. Her parents are there, but Yukio and Yukio’s parents aren’t with them anymore.

Time to feel self-conscious, you think, realizing you’re the only one of your trio whose parents hate you.

Ellie’s parents stare at you, seeming a bit awe-struck. You look to her for help.

“Mom, Dad, no gawking, remember? At least introduce yourselves.”

“Josephine, but you can call me Jo.”

“Gregory, but you can call me Greg.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you say, shaking their hands at the same time.

“Where are your parents? We’d love to meet them, too, they must be so proud of you,” Jo says, and your pasted-on smile falls.

“Mom,” Ellie hisses.

“I’m so sorry,” Jo apologizes. “I get so excited that I forget Ellie’s coaching, sometimes. I am really, really sorry, I can’t even imagine not accepting Ellie or her brother or sister for any part of them, that must be so hard for y-”

“Mom,” Ellie reminds her mother once more, this time a little more tensely.

“Eleanor,” Greg warns.

“No, she’s right,” Josephine tells him.

“Thank you so much for what you did. You’re a hero,” Greg tells you.

“I wouldn’t go that far, it was really nothing.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Ellie remarks, but there’s no hostility in it.

“That’s not what I meant, I just mean that I heal. It’s not really a big deal, what happens to me. I’m just a meatshield, I don’t actually do anything,” you chuckle. You don’t enjoy being praised for your… Condition. You know it’s not wrong to be a mutant, but that doesn’t mean that it never feels like a bad thing to be one due to the negative thoughts your parents instilled you with about yourself.

“Y/N!” Ellie scolds, looking almost hurt, but you can’t bring yourself to apologize for what you said.

“It was so lovely to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Phimister, but I need to go make sure Wade isn’t cheating at Scrabble. I hope you enjoy the rest of the event, Yukio and her committee worked so hard on it.” You restrain your pace as you venture back to the small table, but it’s hard not to run away from the group.

“That looked awful,” Wade comments as you sit down.

“It was,” you tell him. “Is it my turn?”

“Duh,” Wade says.

You put down “DYNAMITE.”

“Fuck you,” Wade says.

“I’m rootin’ for you, Y/N,” Russell tells you, putting down “YES.”

Wade scoffs, putting down “SUCK.” You put down “THISTLE.”

“That’s not a word,” Wade says triumphantly. “I win.”

“Uh, yes, it fucking is. It’s like a thorn or bramble,” you correct. “Even if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t fucking win automatically, I would just have to put down a different fucking word.”

“Yowch. Tough crowd over there?”

“Something fucking like that,” you admit.

“Board’s looking kinda full,” Russell notes, looking over his letters.

“Yeah. Guess we’re done.” Wade pours the letters back into the box before a final count can take place to prove him the loser.

“Ah, a forfeit. Looks like you’ve won your first game of Scrabble, Russell. Nice job,” you tell your brother in arms - and by arms, dealing with Wade is meant - and the two of you laugh together. Now that there’s nothing to do, though, you sigh. “Can I go to my room?”

“You know you can’t,” Wade tells you, sounding disappointed for you.

“But what if I’m going to sleep early?” you wonder.

“Come on, Y/N, just stay out a little longer. Get some of the whore doors!”

“You mean hor d’oeuvres?” You ask the literally Canadian man.

“Yeah, but whore doors is funner to say,” Wade tells you, before realizing your complete lack of humor. “Just go on to bed, kid, I’ll handle Colossal Hall Monitor.”

“Thanks.” You plod out of the dining room and into the hallway, making your way towards the stairs. You hear someone jogging in the same direction, and turn to see who it is. Cable.

“Wade’s still in the dining room, but he’s busy watching Russell, so your hate-fucking will have to wait,” you wisecrack, and he snorts.

“I heard what you said in there, to Ellie’s parents. That’s real fucked up, you know that?”

“And since when is that your problem?” you wonder. Cable seems intimidating to most, but he doesn’t really scare you. After all, it’s not like he can kill you or anything. You admire his strength and skill, sure, but that’s about it for your relationship with him.

“There’s a lot of people who care about you here. I get that your parents might be ignorant assholes, and you may not be able to die, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel pain. That shot that I hit you with? Most people die of pain before they ever succumb to the actual injury. I knew about your healing factor before today… Earlier, I was apologizing for how it hurt.”

You’re speechless. You nod in acknowledgement of his words before continuing up the stairs and to your room.

Once you’ve finished your nighttime routine and you’re comfortable in your bed, you wonder how much truth there was to what he said. Sure, people care about you, but… Is it really that bad for you to not care if you get hurt? It doesn’t mean anything; doesn’t have any lasting effect. And what’s with Cable’s sudden concern? It’s not like he can relate, his parents love him dearly. Not to mention Ellie’s feelings towards you, all it took was one decision that wasn’t even really a decision to change everything, or it at least feels that way.

You toss and turn with your tumultuous thoughts before eventually falling asleep.

Guilt from yesterday pools in Ellie’s stomach and makes it hard to eat breakfast. The way she paraded you in front of her parents like a show pony, the way she didn’t even send a text to apologize for her mother’s ignorant comments, the way she’s reacted to this whole situation, it’s all piling up and-

“Hey,” you say rather gruffly, sitting down across from her. Yukio already sits beside her, and responds with a chipper “Hi, Y/N!”

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” Ellie says in lieu of a greeting.

“It’s okay,” you tell her. “It’s not a big deal.”

“What happened?” Yukio asks.

“My parents and I were idiots.”

“They weren’t idiots, just… I hate fucking talking about this, but, Ellie, you’re gonna find out sooner or later, and Yukio already knows, so… My parents don’t just not accept me. If they found out what I did yesterday, they’d be so disappointed that I didn’t die, and that’s all they’d care about. They’d probably throw in the m-word once or twice and then start arguing about whose side of the family is to blame for me being an abomination, too. So when your parents- So when they looked at me like that, when they called me a hero? It just felt… Wrong. Because all I’m doing is… All I’m doing is making up for existing,” you explain, throat tightening a little with emotion before you exhale.

Ellie doesn’t know what to say. She never expected this; you always seem so happy.

“Y/N…” Yukio sighs, brows furrowed.

“Fuck them,” Ellie decides her words. “Fuck them, seriously. They’re wrong about you.”

“You can’t just say-”

“Why not?” Ellie asks. “I mean, if you’re an abomination to them, then Yukio and I must be… I don’t even know the word. Do you think that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“But what? Fuck them!”

You’re stunned into silence.

“You’re great, Y/N. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re selfless, you’re fucking amazing, okay? Fuck. Them.”

“Well, I’d rather not fuck them, if that’s alright…” you reply, smiling a little bit. “Thanks, I- No one’s ever been able to snap me out of that so quickly.”

“No thanks necessary, I owe you.”

“Right,” you remember, eyes downcast. Why else would she be kind to you, why else would anyone?

“But that’s not why I said that stuff just now,” Ellie adds. “I just- How do I even say this? I like you. I like-like you.”

“Um-“ you start, looking to your best friend who also happens to be Ellie’s girlfriend.

“Oh, no, she does, too, don’t worry,” Ellie reassures and your brain turns to Jell-O at her borderline nonchalance. Your lips part because you want to say something - literally anything - and you blink at her.

“You’re going to catch flies!” Yukio warns you. “Come on, you can’t be that surprised, can you?”

“I can. I’m… Me,” you remind them.

“Uh, yeah, exactly,” Ellie says.

“You-” you point to your former arch nemesis/third-best friend, making circles with your finger for emphasis, “-of all people should not be saying that. We’ve been making each other miserable since we met.”

“Well, things change.”

“You just think you like me because I saved your life. It’s not the first time it’s confused someone, and it won’t be the last,” you explain.

“You should just tell her, Ellie,” Yukio suggests, and you wonder what she’s talking about.

“I’m not telling her that, it’s weird,” Ellie disagrees.

“Well she would like to know about the weird thing that she should be told,” you chime in, annoyed at being talked about like you’re not here.

“Right… So, don’t know if you know this, but I have… Dreams, when I sleep.”

“Most people do,” you reply with quirked brows, confused about what she’s getting at.

“Dreams about the future, jackass. And, according to some dreams I’ve been having recently, we’re all going to be in this kind of… Arrangement. And the arrangement is, for lack of a better word, good. So, it wasn’t you saving my life that made me see you differently. I’ve just been having some internal issues that I finally got over.”

“Wait, are you saying that because you had wet dreams about us having a threesome and you think they’re the future and not just your brain processing your rivalry with me weirdly, that we’re meant to be in some sort of ‘arrangement’?” You’re skeptical, to say the least.

“The prophetic dreams feel different, okay? And they weren’t all-“ She cringes at the term she’s about to use before continuing: “-wet dreams.”

“But some were?” You inquire, amused. Ellie’s cheeks turn red pretty quickly, the girl is a deep blusher and it’s honestly adorable.

“Shut up!” She lashes out, embarrassed. “I mean, I’m sorry, okay? For all of it. Can you just give me an answer?”

“An answer?” She hasn’t asked you anything, only made some confessions.

“You didn’t actually ask her out,” Yukio says quietly to her girlfriend, who puts her face in her hands and groans.

“Do you want to be a thing? With me, and Yukio? Like, a three-girlfriends thing?” Ellie asks, still not looking up.

“Yukio, you haven’t really said a lot. What do you think?” You ask your friend nervously. You’re definitely into her, and feelings for Ellie are forming within you, especially during these past few days.

“I’m down, I told Ellie that yesterday. The conditions are just that she has to convince you.”

“But- I mean, I don’t have a lot of friends. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll have… Pretty much no one. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea, as lucky as I’d be to be with you two… But if I say no now then that could also ruin our friendships.”

“Don’t worry about all that, okay? I promise I’ll be your friend as long as you don’t do something absolutely terrible, and even then it’d vary case by case. I love you,” Yukio reminds you of a promise she’s made to you many times before, one she’s kept.

“Alright. Consider me convinced, then,” you decide, a smile tugging at your lips. Ellie looks up at you and can’t help but share in the expression.

“That’s great,” she tells you.

“So, what now?” You ask.

“Um… Finishing breakfast?” Ellie suggests. “Then room transfer forms, I guess.”

“Someone’s eager to make their dreams come true,” you joke, and Yukio giggles.

“She’s not the only one. She talks in her sleep-“ Yukio pinches her fingers a small space apart “-a little bit.”

“Wait, you knew?!”

“Not that they were real,” Yukio defends herself against an embarrassed Ellie while you snicker.

“Stop laughing, bottom,” Ellie jabs playfully, and you gasp.

“I doubt that,” Yukio remarks in your defense. “Y/N… Mm…”

Ellie gapes at her girlfriend’s imitation of her, and the three of you laugh, enjoying the rest of your breakfast together.

After that, it’s to the office. Your request gets approved quickly due to the fact that you’re freeing up a room.

“I guess I’ll get packing, then,” you tell your new girlfriends, and they follow you to your - already old, now being moved out of - room. When you open the door, it hits you like a wave that this has been your room since you were ten.

The first thing you pluck from the wall is a framed picture of yourself and your parents. Before everything.

It’s a bit sun-faded, and you study it for a few moments. Yukio’s head perches on your shoulder while Ellie mumbles something about your nightstand and a TV.

“You were so cute. Are so cute,” Yukio comments, studying the face of the girl before the accident, before waking up in that drawer in the morgue, before the name-calling and the disappointment. Before you changed.

Your hands clutch at the frame to avoid throwing it, knowing she doesn’t even know the full truth of what she’s looking at - not yet - and Yukio quietly offers to take it away.

“That’d be best, for now,” you admit, letting her well-manicured hands take hold of the last piece of who you used to be. She asks permission to show Ellie, and you allow her to, deciding to distract yourself with other pictures. Some are with old friends that have died or moved on from this place in other ways, others are with Yukio, newer ones are with Wade and Russell. Next, you take your clothes out of the wardrobe, putting the ones that are meant to go in drawers in your various duffle bags and backpacks and leaving your blouses, dresses, jackets and whatnot on hangers.

The girls mostly watch as you pack the materials of your life away, hearts hurting at the mutual realization that this is really all there is. There is no bedroom at home with your favorite stuffed animal that your big sister gave you that you’re too ashamed to bring but miss so much, there is no big fluffy dog to whine incessantly the first week you’re gone to school that will leap on you the second you get back, there is nothing, really.

Ellie kisses you first despite knowing Yukio probably should be the one to do it, considering your history - she just can’t help it. She grabs your face and kisses you.

“What was that for?” you ask, stunned. It’s been nearly silent while you’ve been packing and sorting, so there was little to no provocation.

“I, uh… The more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I’ve wanted to. And I’m getting to know you really well right now,” Ellie bashfully explains.

“Huh. Fair enough,” you decide, and she scoffs. It’s not mocking, more of a sound that says ‘typical Y/N’ and makes you smile softly. The smile is kissed off your face by Yukio and replaced with a sly grin. “Probably shouldn’t make Ellie’s dreams come true all over my clothes. Try whatever strategy this is later and we’ll see,” you tease.

“It’s not a strategy, we just lo...ike you,” Yukio stumbles over her words and you blush a little.

“Alright, I think we can start moving the stuff I’ve set aside, and then we can get help with furniture stuff later,” you decide. The girls nod, and this gets done quickly. You send your new partners ahead of you to dinner, telling them you need to think about where your pictures and trinkets will go, because you do.

Eventually, though, you end up just sitting on the floor and looking at your new surroundings. It makes sense to move, the girls don’t want you to be or even feel left out, but it’s hard to imagine fitting into this room with two other people when you’re so, so used to being alone.

But when there’s a knock at the door, and you answer it to find Cable with some Command Strips - grumbling about the school having the budget to redesign their suits every five goddamn seconds but not enough to patch some holes in the wall from good old fashioned hammer and nails - you’re reminded that things change.

post credits scene:

He looks at the first picture you hand him, the one of you and your parents.

“Hm,” he says, looking from the picture to you and asking bluntly: “Why keep this one?”

You give him a pointed look.

“Well, if they disowned you, I’d assume they surrendered all the pictures. So why just this one?”

You know a man like him wouldn’t ask if he didn’t truly want to know, so you don’t bother toying with him and delaying the inevitable. It’s not a secret, just the answer to a question that’s never asked. “Because I drowned in the lake in the background that day.”

“Hm,” is all he says - he says that a lot, probably - before attaching new Command Strips to the back and putting it with the pictures Ellie and Yukio have with their own families.

46 notes · View notes

niyascribes · 6 years ago

Text

i thought you were his.

summary: you’ve been put with the avengers to watch over Wanda but no one but you knows that. One brunette super soldier has a secret crush on you and gets jealous when one of your old partners comes to visit; Wade Wilson.

information: WOC!avenger

warnings: angsty, descriptive fighting, Stevie being a bootyface, and language (duh it’s Deadpool)

-masterlist

I was sitting on the balcony when I heard FRIDAY call out

“Ms.L/N you’re needed in the commons, you have a guest.”

My eyebrows screwed together I never get visitors. I close the book I was reading and walk into the living room, where I saw a horrifying site. A familiar man in a red and black suit with a katana holster on his back, being surrounded by the rest of the Avengers

“Wade?” I asked tilting my head slightly, causing the group to get behind the mutant.

“No, it’s David Beckham you shit face.” He says in his natural taunting tone.

“I told you not to find me, why are you here?” I say walking closer before straightening out my stance getting ready for a fight.

“Ah, now you know I couldn’t stay away from you sugar tits,” He says being the annoying little shit he always is. I shoot him a death stare motioning that I mean business.

“Alright, it’s about Erik Lehns-” I cut him off before Wanda could hear him any further.

“Let’s talk about this in private,” I say turning on my heels walking back to the balcony.

I hear Steve clear his throat causing me to turn around. Steve’s hands are placed on his hip, with his left foot turned outwards.

“You gonna tell us what’s goin’ on here Y/N?” He asks.

I mumble to a quick ‘Wait for me outside’ to Wade so he doesn’t see me put his ‘man crush everyday’ in check.

“No, I’m not. I don’t think it’s your business to know why he’s here.” I say getting defensive about my partner.

Steve lets out a sigh, I see one of the hardest eye-rolls in history provided by Tony and eyes of disappointment and anger from Bucky, which made my skin crawl.

“Listen Y/N we live here and I think it’s only fair we have a say who comes and go in and outta here,” Tony says standing beside Steve.

Tony’s comment leaves Steve to continue on with his annoying rant “We all want what’s the best safety wise for the team.” He says giving me the concerned eyes he plays so well with people, but not me.

“Do you know how he even got in here?” I paused waiting for an answer. “He surely couldn’t have buzzed up, because doesn't work here. So, before you nag at me about the safety of the team make sure the building is secure so something like this doesn’t happen again.” I end with a toothless smile before turning on my heels to walk to the patio where Wade was waiting looking through the window with his eyebrows raised.

I hear Steve’s dominant voice boom before I could even take a step “If you walk out there I will have to talk to Fury about termination.” He says which makes me stop in my tracks and a smirk slithers its way on my face. I turn around sharply to face him.

“I would love to be terminated. Call him.” I say boldly before storming my way out.

I let out a sigh when I get outside with Wade. “I don’t even know what happened in there but by the look on Cap’s face which is very hot by the way, it was not pretty.” He ends with a low whistle escaping his mouth.

My eyebrows shoot up when I remember I’m mad at him. I quickly snatch a katana out of its holster on his back and chop him in the hand causing it to detach from his wrist then slamming it into his stomach backing him up in the chair I was previously in.

“Why the hell are you here?” I asked still holding on to my end of the katana giving him a deadly look.

Even under the mask, I can tell he’s in shock “Numer one: Ow that was rude and Number Two: I bet you’re happy I taught ya how to use that thing. You know for an extreme assassin I would’ve thought they taught you about how to use katanas rather than guns and-” He rambles but I cut him off.

“Wade not the time, you said something about Erik?” I ask, losing my grip on the sword.

“Ah, yes I did but I would like for you to pull this out before I start buttercup.” He passive-aggressively demands. I let out a sigh and give him an eye roll before yanking out the weapon roughly handing it back to him.

“Right Erik, yeah he doesn’t know about the mutant kids,” Wade says bending down to pick up his severed hand.

My mouth parts in surprise “What?” I exclaimed.

“You know the twins-” He says and I cut him off

“No shit the twins. I spend my time looking after both of them and he doesn’t have the decency to remember.” I say leaning backward on the railing.

“Well, you’re not doing a good job seeing that one of them is,” Wade says finishing off his sentence dragging his thumb across his throat.

I crack a little smile at the dark joke “Ahh that’s the smile I was looking for.” He says coming over wrapping his arms around my waist lifting me off the ground. My arms fly to his covered neck.

“Wade put me down!” I say with a smile on my face as he spins me around. He drops me on my feet.

“By the way, they all verbally gang raped me I suppose they don’t know why you’re here?” Wade asks.

As I open my mouth I’m cut off by Natasha “Coast is clear, grandpa went to go tell Fury, were in the conference room.” She says quickly eyeing Wade. I separate myself from him and roll my eyes knowing what it meant when Steve ran to Fury.

“No, they don’t,” I say walking back into the compound.

Wade follows me in “Since you cut it off you wanna keep it?” He asks. I shake my head with a smile on my face.

“Put it on the coffee table, let’s hope it gives grandpa Steve a scare,” I say walking to the elevator. I hear a thump from the room and I feel Wade next to me. I push the elevator that comes freaky fast.

“Conference room A,” I say unto Friday and the elevator moves promptly.

Wade gives an exasperated gasp “Daddy Stark got moneyy…” he says extending the ‘y’ which makes me chuckle while shaking my head.

I take a deep breath before walking out “Put your business face on babe.” I say walking out the elevator.

Wade follows closely behind me as we approach the blacked out office. He opens the door allowing me to walk in first. Everyone is already seated when we walk in.

“Y/N please make this quick, I’m tired of Steve calling me about every little thing you do.” Fury sighs out placing his hands on his head rolling his eye.

I let out a little laugh “With pleasure. I am not an Avenger. Never will be. I am an Ex-Assassin turned mercenary and Wade here is or was my partner.” I say with a smirk that slowly turns into a smile when I see the color drain from Steve’s face.

“I’m here because I was assigned as the guardian of Wanda on behave of Charles Xavier, I’m just here to protect Maximoff. Wanda was the only one that knew why I was really here.” I say adding a little nod at the end of my sentence.

“Oh so when Wanda was laughing at you and Steve argue it wasn’t because she was crazy,” Sam adds with a grin and Wanda snickers across the table.

I nod with a smile“So, when I would pick fights with you Steve it was because you’re not my boss and I didn’t like you bossing me around, besides that you’re a good captain.” I smile at him. Steve gives me a toothless smile

“Good now that’s settled. What was it about Erik?” Fury asks disregarding the speech I just gave. I turn and look at Wade who is starring heavily at Steve. I hit him with the back of my hand.

“Sweet baby Jesus, you know how to make men.” He says almost in a yearning tone. Wades outburst makes Steve pipe up.

Steve clears his throat before speaking “Excuse me?” He asks in his deep tone which causes Wade to lose his shit.

“I think I stopped breathing. I just wanna-” He says breathlessly before cutting him off before he says something too vulgar.

“WADE! Fury was asking about Erik, but I think we should discuss this in private, without Wanda around.” I mumble the last part.

“No, Wanda needs to know about her stupid son of a bitch father who’s trying to make mutants take over the world,” Wade says slamming his wrist on the table, revealing where his hand was severed off.

I place my hand on my head and let out a large sigh. Everyone is looking at Wade's hand well wrist with horror and confusion.

Bucky speaks up first “What happened there.” He asks pointing to Wade's wrist.

Wade groans “Miss wanna be Uma Thurman cut it off while we were arguing.”

“That’s not the point”

“My god Y/N you cut off the mans hand,” Natasha exclaimed crunching up her face.

“He must have deserved it,” Bucky says coldly.

“Bucky.” Steve warns while Bucky just shrugs and crosses his arms across his chest leaning back in the leather chair.

I shake my head and put my head in my hand.

Fury jumps in “I have been wanting to talk about your anger issues.”

I quickly get offended “I do not have anger issues.” I said crossing my arms across my chest.

Wade lets out an over exasperated laugh “That’s like saying Chewbacca doesn’t have a hairy ass.”

I scoff “Oh fuck you, overgrown genetically modified avocado.” I say flipping my hair over my shoulder. Wade's mouth hangs open and I hear muffled snickers from the team.

“If we can get back to business, that would be appreciated,” I mutter out seeing that I just proved their point.

Fury nods “We should find him before anything-”

I cut him off wanting the conversation to end “We will stay put. Wanda is in the system and she’s one of the most powerful mutants documented he’ll come looking for her, and that’s my order as her guardian.” I say giving a nod “If anyone disagrees come find me later.” I say about to walk out but I quickly stop myself “Oh, and Wade stays.” I say before walking out of the conference room, not before catching the annoyed eye roll from Bucky.

Wade catches up quickly to me “You where so dominant in there, you usually like to be dominated.” He says which causes me to pinch the bridge of my nose knowing were not too far from the door and not one but two super soldiers were in the said room.

“Shut the fuck up Wade.”

All was smooth sailing, I was keeping tabs on Erik, Wanda was safe and I went back to staying to myself and being quiet. Well, it’s hard to be quiet with Wade the loud mouth rooming with me. He won’t stop talking about Steve or his new friend Cable who he says is an off-brand, Bucky Barnes.

I told him to shut up numerous times and even begged for him to shoot me so I wouldn’t have to listen to his mouth. After I threaten to cut off this tongue he started to talk to the Avengers, forcing them to listen to his rants on why Crocks pose as his masturbation shoes. After Tony begged me so I finally took Wade out. I took him to the only place he could wear his suit and have some fun. A gay bar.

I get all dressed up in a plain black mini bodycon dress and silver hoops and silver bracelets.

“You take longer than Vanessa to get-holy shit balls,” Wade says barging in with a cleaned up suit and wide eyes.

I laugh while I apply lipgloss to my lips “Pick your jaw off the floor, Wilson and give me those heels on the floor.” I say pointing to the open toe stilettos sitting by my closet. He brings them to me and I slide my feet in buckling the ankle straps.

“I haven’t dressed up in forever,” I say smoothing out my dress over my thighs.

“You look great, you would make drag queens cry. Can we go now I wanna see the fireman striptease.” Wade wines tugging on my arm.

“Fine, fine let's go,” I say walking out of my room.

I walk out into the common room and was welcomed by whistles from Tony and Sam who were accompanied on the couch with Bucky, Steve, and Rhody.

Tony’s lips quirk his smile “Where are you two going with Y/N looking like that.” I smile bashfully playing with a stray curl.

Wade jumps in “The club.” He says placing his red cloth covered arm around my waist. I laugh smiling at the floor.

“You should keep good eyes on her, so you don’t lose her tonight,” Sam suggests with a wink.

“I think she can handle herself, with her mediocre training.” Wade jokes. Everyone lets out a chuckle except for Bucky who looks sick with anger. His eyes dark while scaling up me and Wade's bodies who are pushed together. Bucky’s eyes finally meet mine and they soften a tad but the anger was still prominent. He excuses himself to the kitchen so we wouldn’t see us leave. I shake off Bucky’s peculiar behavior and bid adieu to the Avengers.

The night was fun but drawn out. Wade had many drinks only when I had a few. It was fun seeing Wade flirt with guys and guys do the same to him. All was good until the fourth hour at the club. Wade decided to fulfill his lifetime dream of being a stripper. That’s where I stepped in.

“Shows over boys,” I say dragging Wade down from the stage.

Wade's face looked shocked but I can’t really tell with the mask “Boo you’re no fun.” I nod and mutter agreements.

We get in a cab and go back to the compound. It was hell trying to drag Wade around the compound quietly. Once we got off the elevator I didn’t expect anyone to be up, but low and behold my savior Bucky Barnes sitting on the couch watching The Office. His head turns when I enter.

“Help, please,” I beg trying to keep Wade's dead weight from falling on the floor.

Bucky lets out a chuckle causing a beautiful smile to spread on his cheeks “I gotcha doll.” He rushes over picking Wade off of me and throwing him over his shoulders as if he was a bag a potato’s.

I let out a breath of relief “Thank you.” I say pulling down my dress that had risen from the pushing of Wade's body.

“You two had fun,” Bucky said more than asked with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t seem genuinely interested he just wanted to talk.

I nod “Yeah, it brought back memories from when I was working with him.” I smile while I and Buck walk back to my room.

We get to my room quick. Bucky plops Wade in the center of my bed and Wade immediately sprawls out taking over the entire bed.

Bucky lets out a sigh “Thank you again Bucky.” I say putting my hand on his back smiling up at him.

“It was no problem at all.” He says before walking out closing the door behind him.

I stare at the door momentarily. Something is wrong with him I just can’t put my finger on it. I think hard about it while I change into some spandex shorts and an old thin college shirt.

‘Maybe him a Steve got into a fight again, or maybe Natasha and him had a disagreement.’ My mind trails off.

Wade snores on the bed and I shake away my thoughts of Bucky. No way was I was going to fit in the bed with him taking up the whole bed. I roll up his mask just to expose his lips and nose (so he could breathe) reviling the scarred skin I came to love.

I walk out of my room into the silent corridor.

Bucky must have gone in his room. I walk over and knock before coming in. Bucky was laying face up on the bed with his hands covering his face.

“Got any room for me?” I question which makes his head shoot up.

His face grows red “Y-yeah, come in.” He stutters looking at me.

“Wade took up the whole bed,” I admit walking to the bed timidly. He was shirtless with dark grey sweats settling on his hips.

The small smirk he teased me with made me bashful. I looked down at the floor.

“Don’t get shy on me now darlin’” Bucky continues to tease scooting to his claimed side of his bed.

I pull back the covers and lay on the opposite side of him, while newfound butterflies make their way in my stomach. Bucky didn’t move stayed still on his side of the bed.

“I don’t bite Buck,” I say jokingly, he chuckles and leans into me a little relaxing.

My mind trails back to how he’s been acting “Bucky are you ok? You’ve been acting weird.” I say propping my head up on my elbow turning towards him.

He avoids my eyes at first biting on his lip a little. “It’s ok you can tell me.” I comfort him.

He looks at me and sighs “There’s this woman. She’s beautiful, confident, pretty much everything I’m not. I want her so bad not just sexually I want her as a person. She rocks my world and doesn’t even know it.” Bucky confesses.

I feel a fire in my chest, after his confession I don’t know why. I’m angry but I won’t admit it. “Sounds like you have a crush.” I barely get out sounding slightly believable. Why am I acting like this?

“I think I love her.” He blurts out and looks like he immediately regrets it. I nod forcing a smile on my face.

“Then why don’t you talk to her?” I ask softly trying not to sound hurt.

He shakes his head “I’m stupid, and I think she has a boyfriend.” He sadly says looking at me with his baby blues.

No, it’s not right. I shouldn’t care if he admires someone or not. “Just be there for her Buck, she’ll eventually see you,” I say before closing my eyes wanting to forget about this conversation.

I woke up with my face pressed against a bare chest and a hand tangled in my hair and my pelvis connected to another. Buckys heartbeat is strong I could hear it. My hands lay flat on Bucky's chest as comfort fills my body he made me feel warm and well. I tilt my head up to see his sharp scruffy jawline. The dull sunlight from the windows highlights his face making him glow. I raise my hand and trace my finger along the rough surface of his jaw. He looks so calm with his pink lips slightly parted. His soft breaths match mine as I admire his face.

Barnes. I’ve never thought about his last name since yesterday. I wonder if the girl he fonded over first name went with his last. And I also wondered why my first name went so well with his last. Y/N Barnes. It has a nice ring to it. I thought about that all night, I even dreamt about it. I bring my face back into his chest and close my eyes. Maybe just maybe I could pretend for longer like I didn’t care he admitted feelings for a woman I do not know. Just maybe I can forget the jealousy I felt bubble in my chest last night. But I open my eyes and realized that I do care. He was sweet without trying. Making sure I returned my library books on time, making me my favorite tea when I was to busy to make my own. He was always there for me and maybe I took it the wrong way. I always admired him though he wouldn’t even notice, I was fine with that knowing that my glances from behind my book were secretive. It felt good having a crush on Barnes like I was back in grade school.

I took one last look at his face and I found myself memorizing it like it was the last thing I would ever see. I let out a sigh before gently removing myself from his embrace and his bed. Before I leave I share a confession with Buckys sleeping body.

“I wish I didn’t have feelings for you Barnes.”

___

We caught Erik by me speeding up the mission and telling the Avengers to move in. Everyone was surprised by my actions even me. I had to keep myself busy after hearing the confession from Bucky. I didn’t wanna think about him and another woman it made my skin crawl. Sp i stayed up 42 hours straight making a plan (that kept me and Bucky away from each other you at all times). Now that Erik was incarcerated, Wanda is safe meaning I could leave. Mission accomplished.

“You sure you wanna leave with me kid? You gotta good thing going on here, free real estate, a job that’s lleagle.” Wade asks sitting on my bed.

I nod folding my clothes on the floor. “Yeah Wade I can’t stay here any more.” I say getting off the floor. Wade shrugs and goes into my closet.

I let out a sigh walking to my room door opening it to see Steve.

“So you’re leaving?” He asks which I only reply with is a nod. “When were gonna tell us Y/N?” Steve says in his captain voice.

I stutter not knowing the answer “T-tonight, or tomorrow it depended on how I felt.” I say playing with my fingers. Steve lets out a scoff getting annoyed “This is hard ok I swear I’m gonna tell them just let me do it.” I say placing a hand on his arm.

“You better.”

He walks away from me and I go back in my room. “Wade I’m gonna get food you comin?” I yell through my room.

“Yeah meet me at the elevator.” Wade says which was suspicious but I brush it off.

I throw my leather jacket over the plain black shirt and black jeans and make my way to the front.

“You gotta be kidding me.” I hear Bucky exclaim from the kitchen but which makes me wanna go see what’s wrong but Steve’s voice stops me.

“Maybe you can move on from this.” Steve comforts. It sounded like a personal conversation so I continue my walk to the elevator. Wade was taking a long time but he’s a grown man he can make his way.

Minutes pass and no Wade so I went to go get him. I was walking back to my room when I heard a loud Bucky “No, I don’t even care anymore.” He storms out the kitchen. He locks eyes with me. He looked angry and the hurt kind of angry. “You.” He says walking towards me eyes straight and determined.

I take a few steps back as he gets in my space. I hear Steve telling Bucky not to do it. But Bucky doesn’t listen. Bucky wraps his metal arm around my waist and pulls me into a hard kiss. I grab on his bicep to brace myself. The kiss was needy and it felt so good. I felt like I found something I didn’t know I was missing. His hand came to caress my face as I leaned into him. I felt tingles cascade down my body reaching the tips of my toes. I was in heaven.

“I think I found something that could- damn it I’m late!” Wade finally shows as me and Bucky breaks the kiss. I look at Wade who has Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Tony on his heels who are all wearing smug looks.

“So, that girl, It was me?” I ask looking up into his mesmerizing eyes. He sheepishly nods acting all shy like he didn’t just give me a kiss of a life time. “But I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say.

“I thought you were his.” Bucky admits looking at a shocked Wade.

I smile in disbelief “God damn you’re stupid.” I say shaking my head.

“So, I guess this means you’re not leaving?” He asks giving me a smile.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#black!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #marvel #avengers #bucky fluff

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thosekidswhohuntmonsters · 6 years ago

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New Years Eve

Summary: When the evil little voice in the readers head gets its way, she leaves the New Years Eve party Tony has thrown. It isnt until Bucky finds her all alone that they both face feelings they’ve been running away from.

Word Count: 3035

Authors note: I’m sorry this is so rushed!! I’m sick and dealing with a lot right now in my personal life, but I’m trying my best!

Optional song pairing: New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift

**if you guys reblog/comment on my fics there’s now a 110% chance I’d die for you**

You let out a sigh as you finally sat down upon the marble steps. For some reason how beautiful the building was only fueled your anger. You cursed Tony, of course he’d host a party in a place that practically looked like a palace.

Tonight was meant to be magical, but it felt anything but. It was New Years Eve, and you were at one of the most extravagant hotels New York had to offer, but it was five minutes until the ball dropped and you were sitting all alone.

This year had absolutely sucked so it only seemed fit it would end in the same suckish manner. Thinking things over you couldn’t help but hear Nat’s voice, she’d be cursing you right now.

Nat would ask how you could be dressed to the tens sitting all alone, and she’d call you on your bullshit. You had wanted tonight to be different, and you’d tried your best, but there wasn’t music loud enough to drown out the voice in your head.

It didn’t matter that you were wearing a sheer, rose gold-glitter gown that looked like something out of a disney film. It didn’t matter that you were wearing rose gold shoes with detailed gold petals and vines wrapped around the heels.

To your mind it was all just a disguise, a beautiful lie. The voice in your head told you that you were plus size, and that nothing could make that beautiful. You felt like a piece of coal in a room full of diamonds.

So that’s why you left the party, you left because you knew you didn’t belong. It was best to get out before everyone else found out, because as awful as the voice inside your head was you could never bear hearing those thoughts spoken by real life people.

“Hey (y/n) there you are! I’ve been looking for you”.

You picked your head up and followed the voice, immediately wishing you hadn’t. As awful as you felt, you knew you needed to mask your feelings. So you put on a smile and tried to sound convincing.

“Well here I am James, but aren’t you missing the party?”.

As much as you loved seeing Bucky, you needed him to leave as quickly as he had come. Given your current state you didn’t think your heart could bare seeing him. He reminded you of everything you wanted, but you knew you would never have.

You felt god was taunting you as Bucky sat down next to you. His smile was so inviting, “Trust me doll, you’re a thousand times better than a room of stubborn rich punks and fame obsessed dames”.

He was making things so painful for you without even realizing. Bucky was just so effortlessly beautiful, from the way he carried himself to the way his smile made you feel like you were floating on a cloud.

It was clear that he was the sun and if you spent too long next to him you’d burn. As much as it pained you, you got up from the stairs. As you stood you began to fidget with your necklace, your body fighting against his clear gravitational pull.

You tried to sound convincing, “Well don’t worry about me James, I’m just down here getting some fresh air”. Every word you said was a lie, you were all alone because you couldn’t be in a room of happy, beautiful people.

As he spoke he loosened his tie, and for some reason it made you desire him even more. Bucky laughed softly, “I don’t know how fresh the air is here, Stark said this building is like a hundred years old”.

Continuing the act you forced out a small laugh, hoping it would distract from your aching heart. You thought the talking to him would make it painful given how you felt about him, but the silence was even worse.

You were just left staring at a man who looked like an angel in a suit, and it made your desperation grow. Once again you told him, “Then it’s best you get air poisoning or whatever upstairs with everyone else than with me down here”.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, “Are you trying to get rid of me (y/n)?”. He asked with a smile on his face, which made things only worse. Your heart wanted him to stay, but the little voice in your head wanted him to leave.

He was beautiful, as the voice in your head told you, you weren’t. So no matter what your heart said, you could never have him. Why would a rose want an average garden weed?

Fighting the urge to say yes you lied and told him, “No...it’s just I feel bad. I mean you’re missing the party! I bet Steve’s looking for you or Wanda or-”. Now you were rambling, and that was dangerous.

But as Wanda’s name left your lips it stung, you were forced to remember how cozy her and Bucky had looked during the last debriefing. They’d sat next to each other, drawing little things on eachothers memos, barely holding back their laughter.

You loved Wanda, and that was why it hurt. You couldn’t deny that she was just as beautiful as Bucky, and more deserving than you would ever be. So the moment you had said her name was the moment you began to crumble.

Bucky stood up, “Did something happen tonight (y/n)?”. For a second you wondered why he’d ask such a thing, but then you felt the familiar sensation of tears beginning to form. You stepped back and tried to build yourself back up.

“No nothing happened, trust me I’m okay, you don’t have to-”

No matter what you said he still walked toward you and pretty soon you’d backed into an abandoned concierge desk, the marble of the desk cold against your exposed back. Now there was nowhere to hide.

Bucky took a step back, “Doll you can tell me anything”. He’d just wanted to help, but he had no idea that would only make things worse. How could you tell him what was wrong, when the problem was how much you loved him?

He spoke softly, “Please (y/n) I hate seeing you upset”. You wanted to cry as his voice was nearly a whisper, it was painfully clear how sincere he was. God, how could you continue to lie to yourself?

The man you loved most was standing before you begging you to tell him the truth. There was no way out of this. You let out a sigh, tonight would have to be the night. You told yourself that if things went bad you’d forget all this and force Tony to send you on some mission to Antartica or Space.

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you confessed, “It’s you James..it’s always been you”. As you were only answered with silence you thought over the idea of moving out of the tower and moving in with Wade.

Bucky stepped closer to you, “What’s wrong with that (y/n)”. As he looked to you with a smile across his face you realized he didn’t understand. You felt your heart shattering by the second.

“I’m what’s wrong with that. Someone like you could never love someone like me”.

It was a miracle that you've managed to hold back your tears, but maybe that’s just because you knew living in the mirror dimension was always a possibility. Doctor Strange had always been nothing but nice to you, so why wouldn’t he let you live out the last of your days in some freaky portal?

Finally Bucky had cut through the silence, “Someone like me? Someone like you?”. He was trying to understand where you were coming from and what you’d meant. You’d been so lost in your own head that you hadn’t even picked up on the fact that he’d neglected the love part.

You turned your head to the side, “I’m not like other girls James..I’m not as beautiful as them..and you can have anyone...you can have the most beautiful girl on the planet with the snap of your fingers”.

As you confessed your deepest truths you couldn’t bare to look at him. You were being brutally honest, finally saying out loud what you’d told yourself for years, and it was soul-crushing.

“Why do you find the beauty in everyone but yourself (y/n)? Why is it so easy for you to see someone like me, someone who’s killed without hesitation and ruined so many lives in the process, how can you see me as beautiful but you can’t see the beauty within yourself?”

His words forced you to finally look at him, and you were surprised to see the pain in his eyes. Bucky took another step toward you, “I know what it’s like to have a voice in your head that tells you you’re the most undeserving soul there is”.

Bucky was all too familiar with self-hatred, and for the past couple of years it had kept him awake at night. It had fueled his most painful nightmares, it had made him want to give up, but with the help of his friends he had given his heart a more powerful voice.

“But you have to realize that it’s just a voice, it’s not real (y/n). Those things you tell yourself aren’t the things that other people think, I know you’ve convinced yourself that they are, but they aren't”.

Your surprise grew as he took your hands in his, and you could feel his emotions pouring out from him. Bucky meant every word that he’d said, and he wanted you to know. He wanted to be the person that broke you from your trance.

“Listen to my voice okay? Listen to me. I love you. I’ve loved you since that night at Mel’s after your first mission, remember that night? Some drunk idiot told Wanda that she should go mess up her own country for a change and without hesitation you punched the punk right in the face”.

Bucky began to laugh as he remembered things. In that moment you had been just like Steve; walking up to the biggest bully and handing their ass to ‘em. He knew it was cliche to say that he had fallen in love with a person in one single moment, but it was true.

You felt your hands begin to tremble in his as your brain tried to comprehend what was happening. Slowly and softly you asked, “You love me?”. This whole thing felt like a dream, too good to be true.

Breathlessly he said, “Yes”. Once again you parted your lips to speak but nothing came out. For so long your heart had yearned to hear those words, but you’d never dreamed that it would actually happen.

As you stood there in silence the noise from the party seemed to get louder. The both of you could suddenly hear nearly a hundred people counting down to the New Year. It was clear that the moment was building, and you could both feel it.

As it was now down to the last few seconds Bucky embraced his boldness. Taking charge he cupped your face, delicately rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. His face was inches from yours and you felt like a moth drawn to a flame.

3...

2...

1...

Knowing words wouldn’t be enough to explain how you felt, you shut off the voice in your head and allowed your heart to take charge. With a smile across your face you leaned forward and finally kissed him.

His lips tasted faintly of champagne, and his hands had somehow managed to hold you both firmly and delicately. Just as you had always known in your heart, you felt both safe and free in his arms.

You pulled back only to catch your breath, the both of you panting from the climax of months of tension finally flooding forward. Bucky smirked as he watch you bring your fingers to your lips, touching them softly as if you could still feel the electricity of the kiss.

“Happy New Year doll” he teased. Bucky couldn’t believe how adorable you looked in this moment, as if kissing him was the most magical thing you’d done all life. Once again, you neglected to see your own magic, but he was working on that.

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks, “I know it’s fucking obvious, but I love you”. You felt butterflies in your stomach as the words left your lips. Bucky was looking at you like no one ever had before, and for the first time in your life you knew what it felt like to be desired.

Now that you were starting to get more comfortable, Bucky was keen on teasing you. Besides, he loved how flustered it made you. He wiggled his eyebrows, “Hmm (y/n) I still like to hear it though”.

Now you began to laugh, “I love you James”. Although he was teasing you, hearing you confess your love for him did have an affect on him. Bucky couldn’t get over how magical it felt to have such a beautiful girl want him.

You’d been right, you weren’t like other girls and you never would be. You would always have an affect on him that no other girl could have. He felt like a giddy teenager, “Well should we go back-”.

It was your turn to tease him, “You said it yourself, it’s much more fun down here”. You felt your heart skip a beat as you watched him seductively bite his lip. Softly you added, “James you are trouble”.

Bucky held your gaze, “Doll you’re not so innocent either”. Unable to face the fact that the closest thing to an angel earth had just told you that you were too seductive for your own good, you looked down at your feet.

By placing his hand delicately below your chin, he lifted your head up and forced your eyes to meet. More softly he confessed, “You look so beautiful tonight (y/n)..like what a princess wishes they looked like...the second you walked into the party I just-”.

Playfully you hit his chest, “James”. If he continued to confess things like that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. He smiled, “I felt my heart leap from my chest”. Bucky didn’t care how cheesy he sounded.

He knew you’d spent too many years hating yourself so he was determined to cancel out the evil voice in your head, and hopefully he’d get you to see just how beautiful you were. Bucky wanted you to love yourself, because he knew you deserved to.

So what you were plus size? Women weren’t meant to fit some mold, they were meant to be women. He didn’t accept your body, he loved it, because bodies don’t need approval either. When it comes to the way someone looks, there’s no right or wrong, there’s just love.

He’d had enough of society and it’s stupid demands and standards. Bucky had watched pre-serum Steve beat himself up for years because he didn’t “fit the mold” and it had driven him mad.

No one should feel that they’re not the right shape, that they’re too tall or that their complexion is too dark, people should be able to worship themselves for who they are. So, Bucky was hell bent on getting you to see yourself as the beautiful woman you were.

He wanted you to know why he loved you, so maybe you would start to realize the ways in which you loved yourself. Bucky knew it would take time, and he knew he’d have to take things slow, but he craved making you feel accepted and loved.

You weren’t sure of what to say, and to be honest you were using all your energy to hold yourself back from jumping his bones right in the middle of the hotel lobby. So instead you decided to grab your phone and play a song.

“James there’s a thousand things I want to say, but my mind is a little jumbled right now, I mean no one’s ever kissed me like that or ever made me feel so beautiful before-”.

For a moment you paused, you could feel yourself beginning to blush. You wondered if Bucky knew that this was a moment you’d remember for the rest of your life.

He took your hand in his and brought it to his lips kissing it. Bucky smirked as he watched you react to his touch, god you had no idea what was in store. He had caught on to your little plan, “Come here doll”.

After pressing play you moved closer toward him, letting him once again take your hand in his. Placing a hand on your waist Bucky pulled your body closer to his, loving how it felt to hold you so close.

As he heard the song begin to play he smiled, “You picked my favorite huh?”. You mind began to flood with memories of sunday mornings spent cleaning the tower. Bucky and Steve would always play old songs, and fight over who was the better dancer.

You licked your lips, “Just trying to see if you’re as good a dancer as you say”. In response he spung you out from him, and immediately pulled you back in. Leaning forward he whispered in your ear, “Doll you have no idea how good I am”.

There was no doubt that his words had a double meaning, and their second meaning made your breath hitch. Bucky pretended that your sudden heavy breathing was because the dancing, and not because your mind was drifting to exactly where his was.

Bucky placed a soft kiss on your collarbone and continued to dance with you in his arms. He closed his eyes and let the music calm the pounding of his heart, because the woman of his dreams was finally within arms reach and it was more magical than he’d ever imagined.

please if you enjoyed this, reblog or comment! It’s like giving me a virtual hug and a nice “don’t give up!”

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x plus size reader #Sebastian Stan #Steve Rogers

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proxylynn · 5 years ago

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Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #22

Chapter 22: Issues WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ To be, or not to be? To live, or to die? That is the toughest question of life. Is it nobler to suffer through all the terrible things fate throws at you, or to fight off your troubles, and, in doing so, end them completely? To die is to sleep because that's all dying is, and by sleep I mean an end to all the heartache and the countless injuries that we are vulnerable to that's an end to be wished for! To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream yes, but there's a catch. Because the kinds of dreams that might come in that sleep of death after you have left behind your mortal body are something to make you anxious. That's the consideration that makes us suffer the calamities of life for so long. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's arrogance, the pangs of despised unrequited love, the delay of justice, the insolence of people in office, and the general abuse of good people by bad when you could just settle all your debts using nothing more than an unsheathed blade? Who would suffer these burdens and go through a tiring life if they weren't frightened of what might happen after death, that undiscovered country from which no visitor returns to which we puzzle our souls about and which makes us prefer the troubles we know rather than to face the ones we don't? Thus, the fear of death makes us all cowards, and our natural willingness to act is made weak by too much thinking. Actions of great urgency and importance get thrown off course because of this sort of thinking, and they cease to be actions at all. Yet there is hope, yes? For am I redeemable or shall all my sins remain? Flowey watched as the human stared off in thought over the balcony that looked down on the forgotten city. She had slept through an entire day after Toriel found her unconscious in the basement. Her behavior after that seemed to return to her norm. She was still refusing to speak about certain things when the subjects were brought up. Very typical. But she was also trying to be a bit more friendly. She had made them all breakfast and lunch with no hint of a reason other than just because. She then went on with her normal routine of training to make up for lost time. He couldn't help to notice her stats weren't increasing despite her increased efforts in extending the time she trained. Though if it bugged her she didn't show it. She only showed complacency, as if merely wading in water that flowed all around her with no idea what to do next. It annoyed the hell out of him. If only she'd talk to him. [Flashback: Sans's sentry post] Flowey had shared many things he knew and in turn, Sans filled in some blanks when correcting was needed. Though it was kind of obvious that both parties weren't telling full truths. "she doesn't tell anyone shit, does she?" Sans was amused in his snowy spot, his feet moving left and right in a childish manner, that damn grin of his gleamed with gloating delight. He was relishing the power he had in this situation. The one knowing all the answers that others came begging to for his mercy. Sure, he was probably enjoying it a bit too much. But when was such a moment going to happen again? "*groan* No. That's the problem. She doesn't talk to anyone about anything...Except you." Admitting any of this made Flowey feel weak. He was there from the start and yet felt not as close as he thought he was. He was her brother. So why? Why did she entrust so much to this smiling asshole? Was he not good enough? Is that why she was replacing him? "Why? What makes you so damn special?!" Sans merely shrugs. "me? not much really. i'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me." That made Flowey puzzled till the grin of the skeleton grew larger. " he's just a poor boy from a poor family. spare him his life from this monstrosity. " Flowey glared. "You can't honestly be doing that right now." Sure, Sans wasn't singing. But the musical tune in his voice was just taunting enough. " easy come, easy go, will you let me go? no, we will not let you go! " "Oh my god, stop! You're such a douchebag!" The mocking cackle that comes out of Sans rattles his bones. But Flowey is far from amused. "oh come on. that was a good one. maybe you're just too chloro-full of shit to have a decent sense of humor." The pun made Flowey's eyes shine red for a moment before something flashed in his vision. Something familiar. It had him chuckling softly before laughing a bit louder and earning a look from the skeleton. "what's gotten into you, petal head?" "*snickering* I see it now...You're just like her..." That had the skeleton glaring and now it was the flower's turn to smirk. "Oh? What's wrong, Sans? Did I strike a nerve?" "*scoff* fuck off." "Hmmm...Maybe you're not JUST like her. You are way more abrasive." Sans sneered and picked himself off the ground. "we're done talking." "But I still have questions." "does it look like i give a shit?" Sans walks towards his station but his steps are impeded by a vine tangling around his ankle. "*snarls* i might not remember killing you. but i'm willing to bet if i rip that thing it'll hurt like a bitch. so ya got three seconds to lose it before i make ya lose it!" "Not till you answer me one last thing!" "then fucking say it!" "Who is Gaster?!" His bones went rigid stiff and the vine slackened as a response, Sans wasn't going anywhere now. "Please...Who is he? Why is messing with her soul? Why is he hurting her?" Sans is quiet for what feels like an eternity. So much is connected to one son of a bitch. "h-he..." His hands fidget, moving in and out of being fists. "he's someone you can't do anything about." That wasn't helpful. "What? What does that even mean?" "just...keep an eye on her when you see the handprints. if you care about her or whatever." The snarky bite he made at the end was less impactful than intended. Yet, instead of goading this obvious sign of the opposite, Flowey let him be and removed the vine. "Thanks, Smi-...Thank you, Sans." Sans lets out a gruff noise and continued to his post. "whatever." His behavior was odd to Flowey. Well...odder than what he knew of anyway. But he chalked it up to the nasty fight the brothers had and took his leave, returning to the Ruins with none the wiser. [Back in the present] It was so weird to have all these questions and yet wait on her to be okay with answering them. Even when it seemed like she was open, her guard always was up and the walls she hid behind were stubbornly strong. Damn it, human, what will it take for you to just talk to me?! "How long are you going to keep doing that for?" She spoke. Sure her eyes were still gazing off into nothing but she at least finally said something. "Doing what?" "Drilling into the back of my head with your eyes." Flowey glared. Not like she'll see. "I didn't want to bug you." "You weren't." He moved to be closer, at least to show up in her peripheral sight. "We're worried about you, you know?" "I know." He growled a little. "I'm worried about you." Her eyes delayed a blink they had started. "You don't have to bottle everything up or talk to skeletons. I'm right here. I want to help. I can understand better than you think." "No, you can't." "And how would you know?" "Because you just can't!" Her building attitude wasn't helping. "If you would just talk...!" "Stop it!" She spun around to him and now he regretted having her attention. Especially with those eyes glaring in mid-shift to another color. Very intimidating. "Do you honestly think you can handle the fucked up levels of shit that I go through when you see me like this? The reason I keep to myself is that one, none of you would believe me. And two, I don't need any more pressure on my ass than I already do. So for the love of God, don't make me open up!" Usually, such a rant would have more fire to it. But her tone held more desperation than anything else. She was on the verge. He could picture her flinging herself over the edge from stress. Maybe if he pushed a little more... "Look...I know it's bad, but I've been through some bad stuff myself." "I said stop! Don't force me to talk about my stuff when you won't about yours!" That made him confused. From what he talked about with Sans the two of them never said anything about the flower. "What do you mean?" Those eyes of hers, they were hard as stone and fiery orange. "I know who you are." He flinched at that. "W-What?" "Chara calls you by your true name. I don't say it because I've been waiting for you to tell me. To tell me because you trust me. Because you're my brother. I thought...I thought that meant something." The fire in those eyes died in slowly pooling moister and he felt as though he had swallowed rocks. "Lynsie..." "I get why you don't tell her. I mean, that's a messed up situation. But me?" "Oh, sure. Make it sound so easy. Hey, sis, how's it going? Oh, by the way, I'm Asriel brought back from the dead as a flower thanks to some freaky science experiment gone wrong! Yeah, that talk would've gone well." He was expecting her to snap back or run away to avoid further conflict. What he wasn't expecting was the look that came to her. "An...An experiment?" Why did she sound so nervous? "Y-Yeah." Her right hand, thankfully gloved, starts to reach for her left arm in a futile impulsive effort to claw. "Do...Do you remember who did it?" That was a good question. It had been so long since his 'resurrection' of sorts. Thinking back made his head hurt. Some of those memories, as bad as they were, seemed static-like and faces were either there or jumbled. "I'm not sure. I...I know Alphys was there. But...*strained* I swear there was someone else." Her expression grew more in concern. "Lynsie?" "Maybe...Maybe we do need to talk about some things." Hearing her say that made him unsure if this was the right call or not. But it was too late to chicken out now. She might not be this willing to talk if he were to turn her down now. Time to stop being a pansy. Wait...Oh my god! They're corrupting him! He punned himself! "Bro?" Shaking off that horrible moment, Flowey regains his composer. "Yeah. Let's go home. I don't feel like saying anything more out in the open. Know what I mean?" She nods and heads back home, him following soon after. This was going to be an interesting day. [Hours pass] Well, this wasn't how I expected the chat with Flowey to go. What I thought was going to be a light conversation quickly spiraled into madness. I wasn't expecting to be told, in vivid detail, how he died. Yet once the tap turned on nothing could stop the flood that poured from his mouth. I got lost in it all. Asriel was a rambunctious youth. Wild, prone to causing trouble and just a nasty little shit to say the least. As Price of all Monsters, he was entitled and would use it as his shield whenever something didn't go quite how he wanted it to. Though there wasn't much he didn't get away with. He was the heir to the throne and the only one at that. Few would rein him in when needed, fearing punishment for reprimanding royalty. Though none understood this behavior for the cry of help that it was. For all the power he had, Asriel was a lonely boy. Asgore and Toriel were always too busy. It's hard to take care of your child when you have to rule over countless people and tend to the needs of the many. So imagine this sad boy one day wondering alone, having escaped his escorting guards, and coming across a long-abandoned area. Imagine this boy's surprise to see light, actual sunlight, shining down into the cold dark depths of their home. To see flowers growing in this rare light, most likely from seeds that were lost in the wind. Now picture the look to come to this already mesmerized boy when something makes a pained sound from within the bed of flowers. And upon approaching this flowerbed, he found something odd...a human. A little boy, no bigger or older than he, seemed to have fallen from above to amazingly survive, albeit not unharmed. This boy was Chara, and he did not simply fall down. He was pushed. Turns out humans were just as cruel as monsters when able. A new lesson learned by the little Prince. But a thought came to him...Maybe this boy could be the end to his loneliness. It was not an easy time convincing the King and Queen to let the boy live. Sure, Toriel had a weakness for the suffering of a child. But Asgore? The guy suffering from the major butt hurt from losing the war? After such a past, no one expected him to even dwell on the idea of letting the human breathe for another second. Yet...the King was the one to give this human mercy. Odder still, it was the King that took in this child. Not as family. Not yet. There is no honor in the slaughter of children, especially when they can't even move. The child would be allowed to live and grow, to become a man, to be a real opponent worth fighting to prove that monsters WERE capable of defeating humans and could take back the land under the sun that was rightfully theirs. At least...That was the plan. As time passed, Chara became less of a hated future enemy and more of a household pet. A toy that kept Asriel in line by keeping him entertained. Toriel did not take to such a role for the child. A kid was a kid like any other to her. She raised Chara as if he were her own. Asgore, for all his high and mighty death to humans bull crap, eventually came around to this way of thinking. Something about Chara, he was always smiling and could turn a bad moment into something less negative or at least funny. How could can one come to hate someone that makes no sin? However, there was one that did grow to hate this kind soul. His best friend. Asriel never intended to resent Chara. But the more Chara was accepted into the family, the more ostracized Asriel felt. It started with little things, things one would think they were overreacting to like who got to lick the bowl of pie filling or who got a longer hug. Silly things like that. Then it became more personal. Words of praise and acknowledgment, things HE as their child should've been given, were given to Chara. To this human. It made him sick, souring the once sweet friendship. Asriel would then do would he could to ruin Chara in the eyes of his parents. Staging pranks or taking things to then trace it back to the human. Asriel, however, was not the best at this and would easily be found out and further cast in shadow by his family as the black sheep. This lead the boy down a very dark road. One that would haunt him to this day. In a silly attempt to blame Chara for yet another joke, Asriel discovered the awful effects of the buttercup flower. He had placed a few in one of his mother's pies and Asgore became incredibly ill. Yet while the opportunity to fault Chara for this was there, Asriel didn't use it. Instead, Asriel, a boy twisted by jealousy and desperation, came up with a very bad idea. Some time passed and Asgore recovered, life went on as normal. Seeing as this was a good enough time to do this, Asriel made his 'adoptive sibling' some tea...made with buttercups. The plan was to make the human sick. To show that this favorite child wasn't perfect and could be brought to their knees. He had learned from the pie incident and used the same amount of flowers as he had then. But Asriel was not known for thinking things out so thoroughly. What was a bad case of food poisoning that was over within a few days to a fully grown Boss Monster was a death sentence to a small human and it wasn't long before that became very clear. Chara didn't have much time left. Not even the kingdom's best healers could do anything about the toxins as they painfully brought the boy closer to death's door. Toriel was distraught, Asgore doing his best to be supportive. And Asriel, seeing the results of his actions, was consumed by guilt. It wasn't supposed to be like this. All he wanted was his family and a friend, yet he had destroyed both with a cup of buttercup tea. He had to do something to make this right. He couldn't heal Chara, he knew that much, but maybe there was something the human wanted that he could provide. A last request made for his redemption. When his parents left the room, Asriel made his confession and begged for forgiveness, telling Chara that if there was anything he wanted his brother would grant his wish. Chara, slipping in and out of consciousness, mumbled of a meadow in his old village that had the most enchanting view of the sun as it traveled across the sky. How nice it would be to see that place again but with his new family. The weight in Asriel gut grew worse to these words. But he was unable to speak further to his friend. A soft breath was the last sound made and the boy named Chara was no more. All that remained was a body...and a red soul. This was his moment of redemption. Asriel would grant this wish. Chara would once more be in that meadow and under that sun-filled sky. Driven by this determined need, Asriel took Chara's soul and absorbed it, merging with it to become a being of great power. With this new form, Asriel took Chara's body and was able to escape the confines of the barrier. Somehow, he knew where to go. He wasn't sure how, but he did. It had been ages since a monster walked upon the land with the sun on their face. The world was beautiful to the new eyes of Asriel. And when he arrived at the meadow Chara mentioned, he had to admit it was no exaggeration. Lost in the wonder of it all, he did not notice the group of children headed his way or when they ran back in fear upon seeing him. Only when he heard the demanding shouts did panic begin to sink in. He tried to explain why he was there, but one look at the limp body of a long-time missing child in his arms had the mob convinced of the monster's intentions. The attack was wild and without mercy. His instincts demanded he fight back, to defend against this wrongful onslaught, yet something was holding him back. Whispers of Chara's voice restraining him from making a move in violence. The only option was the flee. And flee he did all while still being struck. By the time he returned to the mountain, he was a broken and bloody mess. Still clutching Chara's body, Asriel used the last of his strength to return home. He was greeted by the at first relived and then horrified faces of his parents. The end was near, his soul took too much damage, but despite it all...He smiled and dusted. That was messed up on its own. The next parts were just as weird. 'Cause, you know, he was dead and now isn't. He remembered it being dark for a very long time. Nothing unpleasant or pleasant. Just darkness. Then out of the blue, he felt this odd compulsion to open his eyes. He woke up in the royal garden, alive once more. He was so scared. He couldn't feel his arms or legs. His entire body had turned into a flower. Panicked, he called out for help. But nobody came. Eventually, the King found him crying in the garden. He explained to his father what had happened to him. the feared King held his floral son with tears in his eyes, saying how everything was going to be alright. Asgore was so...Emotional. But...For some reason...Asriel didn't feel anything at all. As time passed, he soon realized that he didn't feel ANYTHING about ANYONE. His compassion had disappeared. And it's not like he wasn't trying. He spent weeks with his father, vainly hoping he would feel something. But it became too much for him. He ran away from home. Eventually, he reached the RUINS. Inside he found HER, his mother, Toriel. He thought of all people, SHE could make him feel whole again. But as with his father...She failed. He became despondent. There were no feelings for them. Just simple family attachment. He just wanted to love someone. He just wanted to care about someone. But he couldn't. He decided...This wasn't a life worth living anymore. Not in a world without love. Not in a world without his family...without Chara. So...He decided he would erase himself from existence. And you know what? He succeeded. He died again. But as he left this mortal coil...He started to feel apprehensive. Flowers aren't known to have SOULs. So...If you don't have a SOUL, what happens when you...? Something primal started to burn inside him. No...He didn't want to die. He refused. Then he woke up. Like it was all just a bad dream. He was back in the garden. Back at his "save point". Curious, he decided to experiment. Again and again, he brought himself to the edge of death. At any point, he could have let this world continue on without him. But as long as he was determined to live...He could come back. Amazing, isn't it? The power known as RESET. He was amazed too. At first, he used his powers for good. He became "friends" with everyone. He solved all their problems flawlessly. Their companionship was amusing...For a while. As time repeated, people proved themselves predictable. What would this person say if he gave them this? What would they do if he did this to them? Once he know the answer, that's it. That's all they are. It all started because he was curious. Curious what would happen if he KILLED them. He told himself that he didn't WANT to do this. That he was only doing so to know what would happen for doing it. What he didn't expect was how liberating it was to act that way. Though another thing he didn't expect was the incredible backlash that followed his only attempt at a pure genocide of all things over a slow and painful time. For there was one who made him regret this path over and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over again! To the point where he gave up on killing altogether. It wasn't worth the intense hassle of all the deaths. So he was back at square one. He had done everything this world had to offer. He read every book. He burned every book. He won every game. He lost every game. He appeased everyone. He almost killed everyone. Sets of numbers...Lines of dialogue...And now restricted activities. This was it. The last thing he hadn't done was actually try to live like a flower. He moved back to the Ruins, the place where he found Chara, and was ready to remain there for the rest of his days. That is until another human fell...Frisk. But I've heard enough about Frisk from a certain skeleton. And now that skeleton needs to explain a few things to me that he seemed to conveniently leave out of our previous conversations. Like somehow I've become the being that's in control of the timeline! That crap aside, the parts about how he became a flower were fuzzy like he said earlier. The most he could tell me where the clues he found on his own, like his dust being on the seed of the flower that was then injected with super high doses of concentrated DETERMINATION extract so that triggered his remnants to reform in this body. Alphys was involved based on his memory of her checking on him while he was with Asgore. Yet he claims to recall someone else. A male presence that he can't rightly place. This is where I try to fill in what I can with what I know of Gaster. Considering how he was the former Royal Scientist, it's kind of obvious. I then let him in on some of what Gaster has been doing with me and how it was my idea. His concern for me after hearing his backstory makes me question his claim of being unable to care about anything. Because he clearly cares for me. Yet I don't bring this up. That's something to bring up at a later time. This talk is for the best on both our ends. It helped him vent a lot, and I mean a LOT, of his pent up pain that wouldn't go over well with anyone else. And I got to rebuild a bond with my flower-goat-bro that was beginning to strain under pressure. The rest of the day is pleasant. Toriel picks up on our good vibes and is pleased by our new friendliness. The warm family moments by the fire as she reads to us cast her face in a glow of motherly joy. And that warmth stayed with her as time went on. However, I am now a bit of mind fucked due to Flowey's story and the thought of losing a few brain cells in Grillby's delicious concoctions sounds so good right now. With a very strong amount of begging and reassuring, Toriel grants my request to go into town for a little bit. After all, she knows of the location where I'll be and who is going to be around me. Flowey, of course, accompanies me in his pot that is snugly nestled in my backpack. I'm given the strict curfew of returning home before 9 pm. That's fine. I intend to fast travel anyway. "Remember to call when you get there and when you begin to leave." "Yes, Nanny." "I am merely reminding you. Sometimes you forget." "I'm sure Flowey will keep me from forgetting." "I'm not your personal reminder." "But you do it so well." He nips my ear and I snicker. "We'll be back before dinner, Nanny. Can I bring you back anything?" She shakes her head with a smile. "No, dear. You just enjoy yourself and tell that bartender friend of yours to behave." I snicker and she helps me open the door. "Take care, young one." "You too, Nanny." The door is closed behind me and I shiver a little bit. "Fuck, I forgot about the cold." "How did you do that? The town's name has snow in it." "To be fair, a lot of stuff has been on my mind." "True. I can't fault you there." "Either way...Onward, my brother! We shall find our wary comrade and be taken to yonder tavern." "...You have got to be the biggest dork on the planet." "Enough chatter. Time is wasting and we only have a few hours." "Then you better move it, slowpoke." With that, I'm off on this little mini-adventure. Funny enough, a very annoying obstacle is no longer one anymore. The gate Papyrus made that was on the bridge was rendered useless by Toriel, as in he rampage, she burned a massive chunk out of it and you can just walk on through with ease. However, arriving on the other side greets me with the sight of Sans's sentry post...unattended. "He's probably at Grillby's. You know how he is about working." "Damn. Now we have to walk." I groan and trudge my way forward. At least this time around I know I won't get fucked with. After the Toriel's stunt, no monster would have the balls to mess with her kid. Though that doesn't stop some from giving me nasty looks from within the trees. To no one's surprise, Papyrus is at his station. But he hasn't noticed me and something seems...off. He looks distant. Like his mind is somewhere else right now. Flowey, understandably, hides in the pack when I make my approach. "Papyrus?" His eyes seem to come alive at the voice of his name, though, seeing me as the one to say his name dulls them out in melancholy once more. "OH...IT'S YOU. *SIGH* SANS DID SAY YOU WOULD RETURN SOONER OR LATER. GUESS HE WAS RIGHT ABOUT SOMETHING FOR ONCE." He doesn't sound so good. And even though he's been a MASSIVE prick to me in the past...I can't help this part of me that feels bad seeing him like this. "Are you alright?" "NEVER BETTER." He sounds so empty. "Papyrus, did something happen?" He shoots me a glare but it's so weak a child wouldn't be scared of him. "WHAT DO YOU CARE?" "As ludicrous as it may seem, I actually like to think of you boneheads as almost friends. Granted, not the nicest kind, but still..." "GET TO YOUR INSANE POINT, HUMAN. YOU'RE ANNOYING ME." Annoying him? Normal Papyrus would've hit me by now. Something isn't right. "Did something happen with Sans?" He flinches at that and looks away from me. "Papyrus?" "GO AWAY." "No. I want to help." "I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP. THERE'S NOTHING TO HELP ME WITH. NOW JUST LEAVE ME ALONE." "That's clearly a crock of shit and you know it." He growls, only somewhat holding the danger he usually has. "You know I'm not leaving till you tell me. My stubbornness is legendary." He snarls for a moment before giving in with a huff. "FINE. YOU INSTANT LITTLE NAT. IF YOU MUST KNOW...SANS AND I HAD A FIGHT." I fold my arms. "Verbal, physical, mental, or emotional?" He eyes me. "A BIT OF ALL IT IF YOU WILL." I shake my head. "So what happened?" "THERE WAS, LET'S SAY, AN EXCHANGE OF WORDS THAT WERE SAID THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN SAID." "And? What did you say?" He takes offense to this accusation. "THE HELL? WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT I, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, AM THE ONE AT FAULT HERE?" You usually are, dip shit. "Call it a hunch." "*SNARL* WELL FUCK YOU AND YOUR HUNCH. I DIDN'T SAY A DAMN THING. SANS DID." "Right..." "HE DID! THAT'S WHY HE ISN'T AT HIS POST! THAT'S WHY HE ISN'T AT HOME! THAT WHY HE HASN'T BEEN ANSWERING MY CALLS. THAT'S WHY...HE'S BEEN AVOIDING ME." His words drain out of him with a heavy sadness. Whatever went down between these two, it was bad. "Pap...Do you know where he is?" He rubs his chin a bit before resting his jaw in his palm. "HE'S TAKEN TO HIDING AWAY AT GRILLBY'S. I'VE SEEN HIM THROUGH THE WINDOW. AT THE VERY LEAST, I HOPE HE'S WORKING OFF HIS DEBT WHILE THERE." Maybe this is a chance to smooth things over with this spooky scary skeleton and spark a truce. "Tell ya what...It just so happens that I'm heading to the bar right now." "*SARCASM* OH YOU DON'T SAY." Ignore it, Lynn, he's upset and you do the same emo bull crap when you're butt hurt in the feels. "Heh, very cute. But for real, I'm going over there and I don't see why I can't chat your bro up for a while. Maybe put in some good words for you and get him to come home." That gets some hope to come to his sour face. "R-REALLY?" I shrug like it's nothing. "Sure, why not? I'm a sucker for doing the right thing anyway. Besides, it's just him and you in the crazy world. Family needs to stick together. We can't have a little spat ruin that." He gives me a questionable look. "What?" "WHAT'S YOUR ANGLE?" "Huh?" "WHY WOULD YOU HELP ME AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE TO YOU? HOW DO I KNOW YOU REALLY INTEND TO AID ME? YOU PROBABLY WANT A REWARD OR...OR YOUR TRUE GOAL IS TO MAKE THE SITUATION EVEN WORSE THAN IT ALREADY IS!" I slap my palm to my face. "My god...You have learned fuck all since knowing me." "BITCH I'VE LEARNED PLENTY." I forget that sometimes Papyrus needs to be handled with the direct approach. So I grab his face and lock eyes with this numskull. "Get it through your thick skull. I am not your enemy. I am not the bad guy. I want to help you because for whatever reason I happen to like you. I don't want a reward. All I want is your trust. Is that clear?" His eyes widen and a faint red color graces his cheekbones. "YOU...YOU LIKE ME?" My brain instantly shuts down all rational thought. Gone goes any processing power towards things that would register this as something innocent. Unfiltered thought has me getting flustered, my face getting hot and I let him go to start sprinting for the town without another word being said. "Uh...What was that about?" "Couldn't think. I panicked." "So you couldn't just say 'as a friend'?" "I panicked!" "At least slowdown. Holy fuck! Watch out for the ice!" [Twenty minutes of miscellaneous ice, snow, and dog incidents later] I am cold. Bruised. Pissed off. And frankly getting too cheesed for this bullshit anymore. With what little of my nice temperament I have left in me, I resist the urge to flip off every monster I see in the street and beeline my ass to the bar. I swear to god, if anyone other than Grillby or Sans talks to me before I get a drink I am going to lose my ever-loving shit! The door is flung open harder than I meant and the bell nearly comes off, though its ringing doesn't miss a beat. Not a sound is made while I go to my usual stool. Sans is seated beside, his head slumped into one of his arms, possibly sleeping, while the other clutches a bottle of spicy spirited mustard. Poor guy looks like he spent days beating himself up. "What's wrong, pussycat? Not happy to see me?" Grillby leans on the counter's top, one of his hands comes up to lightly stroke my cheek. "I'm beginning to think you're upset with me. You haven't responded to any of my calls or messages." That makes me look at him funny. "You've called me?" He pauses. "You didn't know?" I pull out my cellphone and scroll through it. There's nothing. So this gets me thinking. "Yo, bro. Has mom had my phone at all since we've been home?" Much to Grillby's surprise, Flowey pokes his head out of the pack. "I remember seeing her with it a few times." "Ah, makes sense now." I put it away. "Sorry, Grillz. Nanny's been blocking you without me knowing." He pouts a little bit but shrugs. "It's fine, pussycat. I get it. After the fit she had thinking you were lost, this doesn't shock me at all." He kisses my forehead. "Though you showing up has made it up to me slightly." "Slightly?" He smirks. "Well, you can do something for me that would be a good start in making things up to me." "Like what?" "For starters...Your uniform came in. Remember? I want to see if it fits." "Oh yeah. The ominous uniform. I've been both curious and dreading it." "Go inside. I'll get it for you in a moment." I nod and do as told. "Ah ah, dear. Leave your brother here." Flowey looks at us funny. "What? Why?" "That, little man, is an employee-only area. Your sister works here, so she can enter. You on the other hand..." I slip the pack off. "Sorry, bro. But no worries. No one will bug you here. He'll make sure of it. Won't you, hot stuff?" I hand him over to Grillby before heading into his inner home. "You know it, pussycat. Heh...heh...The things I do for you." I give him a wink and enter his lair. I trust Grillby to keep Flowey safe. If he knows what's good for him and wants some of my TLC then he'll be smart by not displeasing me. Entering the living space, an out of place purple box decorated in spider silk. It's very pretty. Be a shame to rip that apart. I'm easily distracted enough that when the feeling of hands comes around my waist I nearly have a mini heart attack and t makes Grillby laugh. "Easy, pussycat. It's only me." "For fuck's sake...Please don't do that again." He chuckles into my hair as I lean back on him. "You seem stressed. Did Toriel finally notice my mark?" "Yeah, but she doesn't know you made it." "Oh?" Time to lie. "I got in a scuffle at home and took a nasty fall in it. Got bruised all over and had to stay in bed. She saw it and it had shrunk down enough to match the new ones." "Awww...Poor pussycat. What can I do to help?" His hands knead into my sides and his natural warmth is lulling me to press more into him, earning him a very wide smile. "Mmmm...Just can keep doing what you're doing, hot stuff." He nuzzles his way to my ear, nipping it and working his way to my neck. "You make me burn, dear pussycat~." "Yeah~?" "Do you burn for me~?" I turn in his hold and wrap my arms around his neck, a dopey grin on my lips. "Does this answer your question~?" I've missed this. I've missed him. This tenderness. The feel of his fire on my skin. The heat that builds from when we kiss. All these little things that intensify from just being with him. And every time I indulge with him, part of wants nothing more than to drown in all the possibilities that come with him. "If I weren't open, there would be nothing stopping me from taking you to bed right now~." The charred crackle in his voice sends shivers down my spine. Okay, time to step it up. "What do you have to say about that, pussycat~?" My eyes are partly lidded and my voice takes a dip into the sultry tones. "Who's to say that's really what's stopping you..." His eyes widen while I hook a leg around his hips and the flame of his face tint a softer hue, his glasses steaming. "What's stopping you from taking me right here and now, hotstuff~?" He bites his bottom lip, his body trembling. "Lynsie..." I smother him in a heated deep kiss, my face glowing in blush. "I want you to turn my soul into a raging fire, Grillby~." Strained whimpers leave him. "You're not playing fair anymore, pussycat." I kiss his cheek with a snicker. "Don't hate the player. Hate the game, sweetie." He lets me go and does his best to cool down. I as well try t rub the red coloring my cheeks. "You're getting bolder. I like that." "Says the guy that went the extra level of insinuating sex. A girl has to step up her game against such a worthy teasing opponent." "You know I won't do that. Well...Not till you feel ready. Though when that day comes...I can't promise I'll be gentle." "My such a gentleman." "No, I mean it. I will wait for you." "I know. You're a good man, Grillby. That's what makes you so lovable." He looks a bit taken by that but then rubs the back of his head nervously. "Lovable? Heh...um...That might change once you open that box." That makes me look at the object in question. "What did you do?" [Meanwhile: at the Bar] To anyone that looked at him, Sans appeared to be sleeping. But such was not the case. He couldn't sleep and hadn't been able to get a proper rest in days. Not since the indecent. Not after saying that to his brother. He didn't know how to handle things after that. Fearing what would happen, he came to Grillby's and was so pathetic looking that Grillby gave him the pity of crashing on his couch till he knew the best way of going home without being murdered was. Though that fist day the fire-man did make him work for it. Busing tables was more annoying than guard duty and the shit others gave him because they knew they could get away with it was very tempting to the murderous frustration building in his soul. But laws are laws...No dust is spilled while in shops. Lucky for him Grillby only gave him a few chores to do earlier and let him wallow in his misery now. Sans was clearly not meant to wait tables when he almost broke a wine bottle over Punk Hamster's head for making a short joke. So this reprieve to drink himself stupid to block out the world so he could think better, not the best logic but it's what his sad mind came up with, and maybe blackout for some rest was a godsend. Then...apparently god said fuck you to the skeleton because, right when he felt himself drifting into unconsciousness, SHE walks into the bar. As if life wasn't being a bitch to him now, it just had to have the human show up now of all times. With his sockets closed, he prayed that pretending to sleep would keep her from bugging him. And much to his surprise, it did. She let sleeping skeletons lie and chatted up Grillby. This was worth ignoring until he heard the voice of the flower. That freaky little twerp. He bet it told her everything. It would explain why she was even here. Stupid human and her ridiculous drive to be nice. Yet she doesn't say a word about him and leaves along with Grillby to the inner parts of the building. Which, as much as he was grateful that she didn't say anything, part of him felt annoyed that she didn't. It was a weird feeling and he hated it. "So...How long are you going to pretend to sleep?" ...Fuck that flower. "I know the difference of when you're sleeping and when you're not. I've seen it too many times." "ya watch me sleep? weirdo." He says with his sockets still closed. But he can feel the movement of something landing on the bar. "Look at you. This is a new low. And that's saying something considering it's, well, you." "leave me alone." "Would if I could. But I'm here till it's time to head home." Sans groans. "Don't groan at me. I'm just a tag-along. She's the one that wanted to come here." "yeah yeah. little miss goody-goody wants to come and make nice by solving all my problems. man, you can not keep shit to yourself, can you? ya just have to blab to her about everything." There's a strange pause. "I didn't tell her anything." For that he cracked one socket open, letting him see the potted flower that's within arm's reach. "bull...shit." "No, really. I haven't said a word about what happened between you and Papyrus. She only knows something happened because we met your brother on the way here. Heck, she thought it was his fault when he was being vague about it." That got the other to socket open and him to sit up. "but that's..." "I AM NOT GOING OUT THERE!" The shouting female voice has all patrons eyes fixated on the door to Grillby's home. There are the sounds of a struggle, lots of swearing, and then...silence. Suddenly, the door creaks open and Grillby has a smug smirk curling his face. "You're all in for a real treat. And I'm warning you now..." His tone drops and the burning in his words is searing. "I will incinerate anyone that dares take a picture. Even if you get away with it now, I will find out. And when I do...I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you." No one would call the bluff of a monster with LV level 10 on making threats like that. Though the reason behind such a thing does make them curious. "Great. Now that that's established..." His warm personality returns as he retreats behind the door once more and after a bit flings it open to shove the now blushing human. Why is she blushing to the point her face almost matches Grillby's flames? Well...her outfit is very...um...it's very appealing to a certain type, let's say that. Very cocktail bar styled waitress in terms of looks. Her top is a corset in purple with black holographic flame details and adjustable clasped/laced back for a snug fit that showed off the buxom chest she liked to hide. On her wrists are matching sleeve cuffs and her neck spots a purple collarette with a silver bell attached to the black bow there. Her bottom is some black short shorts with a miniskirt that again showed off more of the body she hid in baggy large fitting male clothes. Her now exposed legs are wearing black thigh high stockings with the same pattern of her top trailing the full length. Her black loafers were flat but given a solid body heel to still get the altering stance effect of being on one's tiptoes. Finishing off her already over the top look, a fake set of black cat ears crown her head to tame the wilds of her loosened hair and a tail faintly swings in the back. "Say hello, pussycat. Just like I told you." The human's face screams uncomfortable, especially with the hands of Grillby ever so lightly gripping upon her shoulders. She swallows dryly, lifting a hand up to resemble a paw and makes a face that looks less likely that she's about to vomit. "Nya~." The bar goes silent. Though from across the room, Drunk Bun pulls out her phone and hits a button. *Kawaii anime "WOW" sound effect* Once that sound plays the bar erupts in laughter. The human, completely embarrassed, growls and balls up her fists to keep herself restrained. The only ones not mocking her were Grillby, Flowey, and amazingly Sans, who at by this point was hiding so deep in the hood of his coat that he nearly pulled the whole thing over his head just to keep the harsh red glow lighting his skull from being seen. What the hell was Grillby doing pulling a stunt like this? It's one thing to show off the one you like. But to make them come out in public in something that leaves nothing to the imagination is a big fucking no-no. Something must have gone down in that back room for her to agree to this crazy shit after yelling in protest before. "See, pussycat? They love it." "*groan* Why do I tolerate crap like this?" "Because you like me~." "I'm beginning to question as to why that is." Grillby playfully messes with her hair before returning to the bar. "What can I get you, pussycat? I'm sure you came all this way for something other than this." She drags herself to her stool and does her best to ignore the commotion bombarding her. "Just a large soda. I'm not hungry." Flowey just watched as the bartender and his sister did nothing to change this current state of things. "Are you serious?" "What?" "What?! What do you mean, what?! Do you even know what you're wearing?!" "Keep your voice down, bro. You're making a scene." "I'm making a scene?!" The rather hard clank of a tall glass near the flower's pot gets its rage to stop. "You should listen to your sister, little man. This isn't a place to cause trouble." A warm warning to settle down. "Now be nice, Grillz. No need to get hot under the collar." Grillby chuckles and Flowey groans. "Please, don't make puns. Not now. Not while you're like this." She shrugs and takes her drink. "Grillz, if you'd be so kind, could you get my brother some water. Maybe something bubbly?" Her words are innocent, her eyes were not. Grillby merely nods and does as suggested. Pouring some less than pure water slowly into Flowey's pot. "This should help you relax, little man. And besides, she doesn't have to stay like that forever. Just twenty-eight more minutes." "so it was a bet." Sans mutters as he partially un-turtles himself from his coat, though the hood stays on to shadow him. "He speaks? And here I thought you shrunk so deep in there that you collapsed into yourself." The word "shrunk" ticked off his height sensitivity and he glares directly at her. "i ain't fucking..." Getting a close eye-full of her in this getup has him reeling back with his hands over his eyes. "fuck! i can't look at ya when like that!" She scoffs. "Please. Did you forget that you've seen me naked? This should be easier for you." *shatter* The shock has Grillby dropping the glass he was cleaning. Though the shock is quickly replaced with a different feeling. "He did what now?" His tone is ominous and foreboding. Yet the human merely sips her drink calmly as Sans settles down. "Chill, hot stuff. It wasn't on purpose. He didn't know I was in the tub and popped in. No biggie." "it's not like i saw much anyway." "Hard to see much of anything between the flailing and screaming." "heh...yeah." That both did and didn't reassure Grillby. They weren't looking at each other but they were reminiscing. Sharing a personal moment. A moment she had with someone else. It brought up those weird feelings again. The ones that have him bothered by how close she is with Sans. The ones that have him concerned about if he should do something more about it. The ones that have him regretting doing such actions that flaunt her like this in the eyes of other males. This requires more thought. But first things first, he's got to clean up some broken glass. "Wait...Are you telling me that you're wearing that for a reason?" She nods and pats Flowey's head. "Care to elaborate?" "Give me time. I'm waiting." "Waiting? For what?" "For the water to take effect." Flowey looks confused as Sans snickers. "wow, kid. i didn't think ya could be so messed up." She shrugs and downs the rest of her soda. "To be honest, I want to talk to you without extra commentary." Flowey gets worried. "What did you do?" "Calm down, little man..." Grillby says with a smirk and picks up his pot. "Just relax and settle in for a snooze." "Did...Did you drug me?" "What? No. What do you take me for? No...I just watered down some vodka. That should kick in soon." Flowey continues to freak out so Grillby places him back in the pack and secures it. Sure, the flower rustles around for some time. But that fight dies down among some slurred muffled words before settling into peace. "Thanks, Grillz. A nap will do him well." "It's fine, pussycat. But in the future, I'm not going to do that again. I don't get kids drunk." "*scoff* He's no kid. Hell, he's older than me in the grand scheme of the timeline." While that puzzled Grillby it did get Sans's attention and she kept going. "Such a crazy thing the flow of time. It's amazing that you hardly can tell when something changes. How something so tiny can make the biggest of alterations and cause different versions of events to play out. Like, let's say, you can go back and relive moments where you could've done something better." This line of talk tweaked a nerve in him and his magic began to flare in his left eye. Was she baiting him? "But time manipulation is nutty. I mean, pausing time would be a cool power. And super useful too." She was. Damn it. This better be important. The bar goes dark except for a spotlight of light on the two of them and everyone in the dark has frozen still. "whatever it is you've got to say, it better be important." She looks at him yet he still won't make eye contact with her. "How long have you known that I was in control of the timeline?" He flinched at that. That was definitely not what he would've suspected her to say. "w-what do ya mean?" "If you're going to bullshit me, at least do it to my face." He fidgets. "*sigh* Give me your coat." "huh?" "Give me your coat. If I wear it, you can't see my tits. Makes sense now?" He didn't need to be told twice. Practically shoving the coat in her face. Still, he refrained from looking at her till he heard the zipper finish its crawl of sealing. Now he could face her but still had to keep his gaze upward. Something about leggings, socks, and stockings made his soul stir. "Better?" "it's a start." "Okay. Now answer the question." "which was?" She palms her face. "Me. Control of the timeline. How long have you known?" "that? pretty much since ya got here." "And you weren't going to tell me...why?" "why does it matter if or if not i would tell ya?" "It matters because it's important." "like hell. you wouldn't even know about the damn timeline if it wasn't for me." "That's not the point!" She was getting frustrated. Why? "why don't you get to your point instead of being so pissy." She glares and her left-hand claws at the bar, though her lack of nails has her fingers making this odd rubbing sound. "Flowey told me of his reign as time lord. And of the times you've killed him." So that's her reason? She's mad about him killing the flower? Stupid bitch with stupid points. "and?" Here it comes. Her stupid response. "Why didn't you kill me?" That...That he wasn't expecting. "what do you mean?" "I know you made a promise to Toriel. But you knew what the eighth human meant. Someone gaining control of the timeline. I didn't know about such things until you told me. So...Why not kill me before I knew? It probably would've made it so that I just died normal and wouldn't cause a RESET. So...Why?" He scratched his skull for a bit. "Sans?" "to be honest...i...i didn't consider it." She is confused. "look...it's not 'cause i like ya or anything, so don't go overthinking this. you..." He sighs and rubs his face trying to find the right words. "you're different. you don't go around toying with people. or pretend to do things to reach some sort of end game. you just...exist. and you're okay with just that. so as long as you don't become a megalomaniacal douchebag or some disconnected puppeteer that strings us all along, i don't see a point to kill you." A soft smile graces her and he averts his eyes to remain tough. "Thanks. But still...I am a little surprised you'd be nice to me like that. Considering you had no trouble killing Flowey when he got on your bad side. And he's Toriel's REAL kid." His interest was tempted. "the weed? wait...what about tori?" Her face blanks. "You don't know?" "know what?" "Sans...Flowey is Asriel brought back from the dead." If a skeleton could pale. "...w-what?" She sighs. "To make an incredibly long story short...Asriel's dust was on a flower seed used in a determination experiment and it brought him back but without a soul. Hence, we have Flowey." The gears in his head grind in jarring thought. "so what you're telling me is..." "You've been stuck in time loops because of flower all along? I know. Sounds dumb out loud. But yes. That's the big ol' plot twist to this part of the story. He's the beginning of the time issues. And seeing as Frisk isn't here to add more...well...That makes me the end of them. I hope." His mind was still processing most of this. "you mean, this whole time, my life was stuck on repeat because of that fucking weed?" She leans over the bar and refills her glass. "Yep. At least at first. From what I've theorized, the being with the greater amount of determination is the one that gets control of the timeline. Why that is, I don't know. But I chalk it up to there being magic here and nowhere else. Either way, that being was once Flowey. Then Frisk's level outdid his. And now there's me. Though, unlike my predecessors, I'm cool with time's forward flow. I ain't gonna fuck with any of you like they did." This was beginning to hurt his head, dulling his senses. Suddenly she hastily removes his coat and plops it on him. He doesn't understand at first till the light around them starts to expand and time begins resuming in the bar. His magic was fizzling out. He did his best to match her in normalcy by the time things continued, though he was more frazzled than he wanted to be by the time Grillby was alert again, yet no one seemed any wiser to the freeze-frame. "But yeah, maybe pausing time would be too much. That's god-tier levels of power. Too much responsibility for mere mortals to comprehend." Smart girl. She was continuing her dumb babble as if nothing happened to keep up appearances. The only indication of something odd had happened was that her drink had refilled. Come to think of it, he could use another drink right now. "yo, grillz. another bottle please." "Are you sure? That's your fifth bottle." "i'm still good. this is far from my limit. plus, it's not like i'm not gonna pay ya. just put it on my tab." "So you're starting the climb back up again?" This made Sans confused. "what?" Grillby nods towards the human. "You want to tell him or should I?" She takes a long swig of her drink. "We made a few little deals back there. I agreed to put this on in exchange for my small bill being paid off. Then someone got the idea of me wearing it out here for thirty minutes and he'd agree to wipe half of your slate clean." "To which you're doing a very fine job, pussycat. You only have...um...fifteen minutes? Odd. Thought it was longer than that." Missing time tends to happen when paused. "Eh. Time flies when good times are had." She dismisses it easily and Grillby is inclined to roll with it. Sans, however, takes this new piece of knowledge rather irritably. "you cut my tab in half?" She shrugs nonchalantly. "I told you I'd help. Sure, originally I offered with my paycheck. But let's be real. I'm not out and about enough to make any gold with a steady job. So...This was the next best thing." His hand hits the bar and his annoyance allows him to look at her directly without embarrassment. "where do you get off doing that? huh? i didn't ask or tell you that i wanted any help. i can pay my own damn bills." She seems oddly ready, as if knowing he would blow up like this, yet glares sternly none the less. "It's called a gesture of kindness. You don't do it because of some obligated reason. You do it because you want to. And I wanted to be nice to my friend." "i ain't your friend! stop being nice to me!" The bar has a shift in vibe. Grillby makes a move to correct the skeleton's behavior but is stopped by the human with a simple cautious hand motion. "Why not tell me how you really feel." Maybe it's the boozed mustard in him taking effect. Maybe the fucked up flower shit she unloaded on him kicking in. Maybe it's the stress from the past several days taking their toll. Yet for whatever the reason, that goading made him snap and let loose. "how i feel? why don't you cut the nice girl act! doing nice shit out of the goodness of your heart? bull crap! don't guilt me by making it seem like you're doing something nice!" "I'm not. You don't owe me squat for this." "that! that kind of shit pisses me off!" "Why?" His socket was twitching. "why? because it's not normal! no one is nice for no reason!" "Why?" "because that's not how things work down here!" "Why?" "because being nice gets you killed!" "Why?" He gets off his stool to really mean business. "...i swear if you say 'why' one more time, i'm gonna slap that smarmy look off your face." "I'm sorry." "that's...wait...huh?" "I said, I'm sorry." His head was getting to him. An annoying throbbing in his skull. What game was she playing now? "what are you up to?" "I'm sorry you feel like you have to do this. I'm sorry you've suffered for so long that any good is looked at as secretly evil. And I'm sorry you don't see me as your friend. But I can't force you to trust me. It's just a shame that you're trying to push away someone that you know just wants to help when I can see just how much you want it." Sans snarls venomously. "i don't fucking need your help!" She attempts to takes another drink and he slaps it out of her hand. "Wow...A bit uncalled for." "enough with the act! you act all calm, with your little quips and remarks. making you look so well put together. but i know better. i know you're just as messed up as the rest of us. so why don't you get off your high horse and get out of my life!" Her demeanor falters for a moment. A nerve being struck. One that had little time to heal. Though this doesn't sting for very long. "You're right. This is an act." She gets off her stool and stands up to face him. "Every day, I wake up and I pretend to be this way. To play this role of the girl that never gives in and can smile through it all. I put on my mask and face this world as best that I can. But inside I'm dying. I'm being crushed by insecurities, doubt, depression, and so much negativity that I let myself fall into a pit hoping for the sweet embrace of death. I have attempted to end my life a good handful of times. Each more pathetic than the last. Even now, I'm just a few triggers shy of crumbling into a blubbering mass of tears." She lets out a few hollow laughs as if needing to do so to get a hold of something. "Yet there are few things that keep me from doing those bad things now that I'm here. And if putting on this act keeps me in, relative, ease...Then yeah. I'm gonna pretend my ass off that all is fine with me. Because I'm a fucking moron that is too afraid to open up to those closest to me and ask for help!" She's shaking. No. Trembling. And her face...such a torn look about it. She looked like she's about to run away and never look back. Such a look broke through to the slightly decent part of his soul. Mostly because her words struck a chord in him. How did she always say what he would internalize? "kid...i..." Before anyone knew it, she had moved rather quickly in the small gap between them and was now hugging the agitated skeleton. Not one to take her hugs easily, Sans in his current grumpy state and with his arms locked under hers, acts on instinct. He bites hard into her shoulder. She hisses at the sudden stabbing of his teeth. He hopes that the pain will make her release him or that Grillby will pry them apart. However...None of that happens. So his teeth sunk in more, drawing wincing and blood from her. Yet her grip only tightened. "*strained* Is that really necessary?" "*muffled* fucking let me go!" "*strained* Not till I help you." He jerks his head harshly and the high pitch yelp she let out hurts the dog guards ears. Grillby is having none of this. There is no violence in his bar and it was going to stay that way. He moves around to separate them but she jerks away. "*strained* Don't touch me!" He wanted to disobey. Especially when Sans thrashed more and her blood dribbled out even more. Yet the look she gave him held him in place. "*strained* Sans...It's not your fault." Sans growls, making small bubbles in her bloody flesh. "*strained* He's not mad at you." The growling lessens a bit. "*strained* I won't make either of you tell me what happened. That's between you boys. But I will tell you what I saw on my way here and you will listen. Then I'll let you go. Got that?" The growling slowly stops and she leans in close to his ear hole, taking care to whisper. "I saw someone great and terrible stricken with loss. A man of power who was crumbling all alone and consumed with worry. He misses you, Sans. He is falling apart without." There is a long pause as the quiet set in. A pin could be heard if one were dropped. Then she whimpered as he removed his teeth from her to talk properly. "if this is a sick joke..." "*wince* You know me. I don't joke like that." "he just wants me home so he can dust me." "He knows you're here. He's seen you through the window. If he wanted to harm you, he would just walk in and take you. Instead of, you know, moping around like an emo." Her grip was loosening on him and her stance shifting. It got Grillby's attention. That, plus how much red was staining her pale skin and the outfit. Thank god Muffet wasn't around to see her work ruined. "did he actually say that he missed me?" "*shaky* Plainly? No. Not in words." He found it surprising she abruptly lets him go. "*wary* But check your phone. He said he called you. Maybe there are some messages..." She stumbles back, losing her balance in the slick drippings on the floor. Lucky for her she lands into the arms of a concerned Grillby. "*weakly* H-Hey, hot stuff...Sorry about the mess..." "It's okay. Just stay awake, pussycat." Taking notice of the continuing to bleed wound, Sans put it together that his stupid thrashing cut into deep veins, making her bleed out rather steadily. No words are said as the barman picked the human up and gave a subtle look to the front door. One by one, patrons made their way out and the owner went inside. Leaving Sans unsure what his next move was. He wasn't going to be able to stay the night here again, that's for sure. He needed to gather his thoughts somewhere else. Somewhere he could be alone and get the copper taste out of his mouth. He wiped his sleeve across his mandible and the sheen of red on it made him uneasy. Made him regretful. With a heavy sigh, he teleported away to think things over.

#undertale #underfell #Anomaly #Lynsie #sans #papyrus #gaster #grillby #grandpa semi #napstablook #mettaton #flowey #Asriel #asgore #toriel #chara #frisk #undyne #alphys

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