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theasstour · 3 years

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𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟒𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

A/N: Now that we’re at the end of year 1, there will be a lil pause in updates for the time being, just fyi! Next update will be on Sunday 23rd May and then every Sunday until the end of the second year again, which is a tag bit longer and MUCH more eventful than the first year aiajfiegj ✨ Anyway !!! Enjoy chapter 11, it’s a Lot 🏛️🦅

December 2013

Though Y/N was used to her sister doing things when she wanted to and not really having a care in the world for what anyone else would think, it still took her a little by surprise when she walked in the direction of the woods. The sisters had helped their parents carry all the luggage indoors, not doing so would result in Lottie scolding them for being lazy. Neither wanted the Christmas cabin trip to start on a bad note.

“You coming?!” Marcela called to her sister, stopping by a tree and resting her hand against it.

“Coming…” Y/N said to herself, looking over at the cabin door that still stood open before glancing in Marcela’s direction again. “Coming where?!”

“Let’s take a walk!”

It was just about to get dark, the sky above them white like a cotton blanket was draped lazily over the south of Wales, but greying with an oncoming storm. The last time Y/N had been to Newport was a weekend in October, but it had been raining constantly, so she had not taken the time to walk around the forest or stroll down to the ocean a mere 10-minute walk from the cabin. She had just been indoors, reading The Picture of Dorian Gray and not feeling any sort of need to leave the cabin’s four warm walls. Marcela had been in Manchester then, busy with uni work, and planning on spending the weekend studying in the library. She had an article that needed to be written for the UoM’s monthly academic journal, she said she wanted to finish it as quickly as possible, so Y/N had not asked her sister to drop it and come regardless. Though she had very much wanted to do just that.

“Y/N!”

Y/N walked over to her sister instantly, jogging a little to reach her before Marcela just turned around and started walking on before they were side by side. Though the trees around them weren’t many, they were big. Huge beech trunks rose up from the ground around them sporadically, their massive branches stretching out around them like the long, slithering limbs of many insects. Different coloured leaves covered most of the forest floor, though some brown and yellow still lingered in the dark, old trees. In summertime, most of the forest was left in shade, covered up by the thick layer of leaves that rose high above them, preventing actual sunbeams from touching the ground.

“Any idea what you’re gonna be wearing for New Year’s Eve?” Marcela asked once the two of them had walked a minute in silence.

New Year’s Eve was just a few days away, and the family planned on spending it alone in Newport. Marcela usually spent it with Kit and friends in Manchester, but it had been a while since she had celebrated a proper Brazilian New Year’s Eve. Though the Montes family usually spent it in Nottingham with the rest of their big family, Davi and Lottie wanted to try and spend this one with just the four of them. Neither one of the sisters were opposed to the idea, it just meant they wouldn’t have to watch their primos, Edgar at 7, Valentim at 5, and Raimundo at 2, while tia Gilma and tio Jaren ate their Véspera de Ano Novo dinner undisturbed. They loved their primos dearly, but it often left both of them massaging their temples to get rid of a throbbing headache afterwards.

“I brought a white tee shirt and some white joggers,” Y/N said, wrinkling her nose. “I hate wearing white.”

“Why, it doesn’t go with your gothic-black-clothing type of lifestyle?” Marcela laughed, reaching up and picking a yellow leaf off a branch.

Y/N did not feel like telling Marcela why she hated wearing white. And in turn therefore hated part of New Year’s Eve. Only that one part.

Davi always started off every Réveillon, or every new year, by knocking on his daughters’ doors and exclaiming, “Ano novo, vida nova!” New Year, new life. Brazilians are extremely superstitious when it comes to New Year’s Eve. What you do, eat, and wear on New Year’s Eve, will draw certain energies and wishes for the upcoming year. New Year’s Eve in Rio de Janeiro is a massive beach party from Copacabana Beach to Ipanema and beyond. Millions upon millions of people gather at their nearest beach to celebrate, starting early in the evening and going all night, Y/N had always dreamed of one day experiencing that herself. She had been to Brazil, but never on New Year’s Eve.

One of the Brazilian traditions for New Year’s is to wear all-white. Y/N was told by Davi years ago that the tradition came from African religions as an homage to the God Oxalá. It was then adopted by Roman Catholics and Evangelists alike, and though their family wasn’t religious, they practiced this regardless. Another tradition that you did alongside the all-white, was that you have to wear coloured underwear on New Year’s, and it all depended on what you want you want the new year to bring.

“I brought a white dress,” Marcela explained. “What colour?”

“Hmm, I brought a few colours. Think I might go with laranja.”

“Orange,” Marcela smiled. “Professional success. Good choice.”

“And you?”

“Amarelo.”

Y/N blinked. “Yellow.”

“Luck,” Marcela said. “What do you think everyone that sees us at the beach on New Year’s Eve are gonna think? They’ll see us jumping into the water and into seven ondas.” Marcela laughed. “Unless they know of Brazilian culture, they won’t understand what’s going on.”

Y/N smiled.

“Let’s confuse them.”

“Going into the ocean at midnight and jumping into seven waves for good luck, is nice.” Y/N wrinkled her nose. “If the water just hadn’t been so cold.”

“And we need to jump into the ice-cold waves head-on.”

“But you can make one wish for each wave.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s been a while since we got to do that, not a lot of ocean in Notts.”

Marcela smiled. “If only we were in Copacabana.”

“I want to watch the fireworks there so baaad!”

“Instead we’re stuck in Newport.”

“Well,” Y/N said, cocking her head to the side as she caressed a tree when they walked past it. “You decided to come here yourself, I was forced. I’m stuck, you can leave.”

Marcela only bumped Y/N’s shoulder with her own, shaking her head at her before she jogged a bit away. Y/N just continued on walking, thinking that her sister had just found a rock or something else that she wanted to pick up, but after a few metres, she was still not back. Turning around, she saw her sister hunched over something further away than she had seen her last, wiping at something on the ground as if to reveal something hidden beneath the layer of leaves and dirt there. Y/N walked over, feeling as if the forest around them had just gone deadly quiet. Marcela stood as Y/N approached, pointing at something on the ground.

A small cellar hatch. Made out of old wood and painted a ghastly brown colour to blend in with the nature around it. In the 10 or so years the Montes family had owned the Newport cabin, never had Y/N stumbled upon this hatch. It looked aged, as if it had been there for way longer than the cabin had. Or maybe it had been made in a hurry and left just like this, with no one to care for it. Y/N looked over at Marcela who was studying the hatch, bending down again to check it out more closely.

“Do you think anyone lives here?” she asked. The question made Y/N feel oddly cold.

“Would hope not. It’s right next to our cabin.”

“Why would it be here otherwise?”

“Dunno.” Y/N looked around them, the forest looked darker now. “Mari, let’s go back.”

“Y/N, we can’t just leave. We need to check this out,” Marcela said, reaching for the metal handle. “I thought you liked exploring.”

“I do, but… this is creepy.”

“No, it’s not.”

Without warning, Marcela opened the hatch, flipping it over so it rested on the other side, leaving the contents of the cellar visible to them both. Y/N took a small step back, but then took one forward again, wanting to be quick to her sister’s aid in case someone or something jumped out at her. But nothing did.

Instead of seeing a cellar exposed to them right under the hatch, a rather narrow and long tunnel straight downwards showed itself to them instead. A metal ladder ran along one of the walls, reaching a long way down, but the destination was left completely in darkness, making it hard to make out anything but the rotting wooden panels around the ladder and the rusting metal of said ladder. Marcela got her phone out, turning on the flashlight and shining it down the tunnel.

“There’s a room down there,” she said, moving closer, squinting down at the cellar.

“Mari, let’s go.”

“Must be here from the second World War or something.”

Y/N looked around, anticipating someone running up on them.

“I’m going down.”

“What-“ Y/N’s head whipped in her sister’s direction, but before she could even try and stop her, Marcela’s feet were on the rusting ladder. “Marcela, what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I just want to see what’s down here.”

“Which is a terrible idea. Get up.”

However, Marcela had never been one to listen to anyone but herself. She merely rolled her eyes at Y/N before she started her descent, keeping her phone in her mouth so it would shine downward and onto whatever she was about to see. Y/N felt herself both worried stupid and curious. She too wanted to know what was down there as well, but her concern for her sister and what she was doing championed over any curiosity she might have felt.

“Mari, I don’t like this,” Y/N called down, sitting on her knees by the cellar opening, not caring that her trousers would get dirty.

Marcela said something, though Y/N could not hear properly through the phone in her sister’s mouth.

“What?!”

Marcela struggled to get her phone out of her mouth, gaze turned downward as she examined the room underneath her. “I’m down!”

“What is it?”

“A shelter room of sorts.” Marcela let go of the ladder, jumping down into the dirt floor. “There’s a bed, some cabinets.”

“Great, you’ve had a peek,” Y/N called down. “Now get up.”

Marcela stood still for a second, turning around 360 degrees to take in the whole room. She suddenly stopped, eyes landing on something at the other end of the room. She walked toward it, disappearing from Y/N’s view.

“Marcela!” Y/N shouted, but Marcela did not reply, not even when she shouted a second time. “Mari, where are you-“

“-Y/N, oh my days,” Marcela groaned. “Chill out.”

“What was I supposed to do?! You disappeared!”

“I was okay,” Marcela said, grinning up at her sister. Y/N could almost just make out her sister’s teeth. “This is the best hiding place by our cabin, I think.”

“Can you get up here now? I think it’s starting to rain.”

“Fine,” Marcela said, putting her phone back in her mouth as she reached for the lowest rung of the ladder. Wrapping her fingers around the rusting metal, she was ready to pull herself up when she yelped. Next thing Y/N knew, metal clanged against the soil of the cellar and Marcela gasped for air, the flashlight of her phone cast at the ground, drenching the cellar in an unremitting darkness.

“Mari?!”

The only thing Y/N heard was Marcela heaving for dry breaths and shuffling, as if she was trying to find her phone on the floor of the cellar. With shaking hands, Y/N reached for her own phone, and though she was unsure of how much her phone would help, she shone her own flashlight down in the cellar. It gave Marcela just enough light to finally find her phone and shine a light around her. The rusty rung had fallen completely off the ladder, now laying somewhere Y/N could not see.

Marcela stood back up, dusting the dirt off her black tights.

“You okay?!” Y/N shouted.

“Fine.”

But she did not sound fine, and she looked worse as she walked up the ladder, finally making it to the surface. Y/N took a grip of her sister’s jacket, helping her out the last metre.

“You’re fucking mad,” Y/N hissed. “Never do that again.”

“Calm down.” Marcela stood up, Y/N joining her not even a second later. “I’m fine.”

“That cellar is old, Marcela, what were you thinking?! It could’ve collapsed, it-“

“-But I’m fine. It didn’t collapse.” Marcela took a grip of Y/N’s shoulders. “I’ve seen that hatch before, but only when I was on walks alone, I didn’t dare open it up and check what was down there without someone here. Now you were, and I didn’t feel so afraid anymore.”

Y/N clenched her teeth, her heart still hammering awfully fast.

“You make me brave, meu docinho de côco.”

My coconut sweet. The pet name made Y/N halt a bit. It had been years since Marcela had called her that. It’s an old-fashioned Brazilian pet name, one Marcela had started calling Y/N when she was just a baby because she had overheard their avó calling someone that, and so she had adopted it herself. They had countless of home movies filmed on rubbish cameras where five-year-old Marcela sat with baby Y/N in her lap, giving her a kiss to the forehead and repeating “meu docinho de côco” over and over again.

“Let’s go back to the cabin,” Marcela said. “Mum is probably angry we haven’t made our beds yet,” Marcela laughed, but Y/N only managed to smile a tine bit. “Aw, Y/N, I’m fine, really,” she assured her. “If I had died down there, I would’ve let you kill me.”

“Good.”

Marcela only laughed before she turned around and closed the hatch.

Friday, 27 April 2018

Y/N didn’t like being in central London. Though there were people everywhere in the capital, there was something about the never-ending crowds of the City of London that made Y/N detest being there. Tourists would walk in and out of shops, clogging up the streets to look at Google Maps on their phones, and not have a single care in the world for those who lived there and just wanted to get to their final destination.

April was definitely not the worst month, there had been and probably would be far worse months with tourists everywhere, but London was a natural and easy weekend trip for anyone living in Europe, and a nice place to visit for anyone else in the world as well, which resulted in it being a busy city at all times. It was not enough that over 12 million lived in or close to the capital, it sometimes felt like there were just as many tourists visiting the city as there were inhabitants. Today, Y/N ended up walking behind a particularly slow group of Dutch people, she recognised it immediately as they spoke, having heard Annalise speak just like them before. Regardless of that, Y/N just wanted to enter a shop without mowing her way through them. It took her a few minutes until she was able to navigate her way around them, by sprinting past them on the street beside them, making it back onto the pavement in time for a double decker to zoom by.

Finally reaching New Look on Gracechurch Street, Y/N walked on inside, feeling in the humid air outside that it was just about to start raining. With Communion playing in her ears and the voice of Olly Alexander singing about being confused about whether to want love or desire from someone, Y/N took a right as she entered the massive New Look, excited to treat herself to some new clothes.

She had been sitting in the Mile End Library on campus all day. The three essays she needed to finish along with revision for her exam in May was all catching up to her, almost making it impossible to fall asleep at night. She would lay awake, thinking about what she had to do the next day, what she should’ve done today, and the five-hundred things that needed to be done at one time or another. It had been a while since she had spent her time overthinking as much as she was right now. Now that almost none of her mates were in London yet, she spent most of her time by herself, either sitting in the library or a café, always doing uni work and always zoning out when she remembered something else she needed to research or another argument to bring up in another one of her essays. She didn’t like studying all by herself in her room. It felt too quiet. She needed people around her, some kind of sounds, even if that was just a student coughing a few tables down from hers. Even though she was by herself in the flat, at least she wasn’t completely by herself all the time.

Her thinking about uni hadn’t been the only reason it had been hard for her to sleep at night. Even though part of her detested herself for it, she still felt relieved at the thought of Harry arriving later that day. Finally she wouldn’t be alone in the flat, someone else was there with her. Even though she had heard their neighbours talking and moving around in their own flats before, she always woke up or stopped whatever she was doing at the smallest sound, even though part of her knew it was just one of their neighbours. She had never slept in a house completely by herself before. Whenever her parents were away, Marcela would come stay with her, and if she couldn’t, then Nathan would sleep over. Y/N had never been so alone like she was now ever before. It scared her.

Even though she knew nothing would actually happen to her, she knew how to throw a punch and knee someone in the groin so it hurt a little extra, it still felt good knowing Harry would be there now.

Suddenly, she stumbled upon something that had her stopping rather abruptly. A white tee shirt with a black X on it, a pink dragon slithering its way in and around the letter. Y/N absolutely loved it. She could see it going super well with her black pleated skirt, some fishnets, and her Docs. She took it off the rack, studying it a bit closer, she turned the head and hung it over the rack again, pulling it out to check the size of it. It was rather small. She checked the sizing, seeing that it was a medium. Putting it back properly on the rack, Y/N started filtering through the different tee shirts, trying to find one large or X large. After all, she could not deal with it being a slim fit. But she found nothing, they only had it in 2X small, X small, or medium.

“Excuse me,” she said, walking up to someone who looked like they worked in New Look. The employee smiled at Y/N as she approached. “Do you by any chance have this one in extra-large?”

“I’ll go check,” the employee said, walking off rather quickly so she could check and get back as quickly as possible. A few minutes later, Y/N still stood where the employee had left her, but she came back, a little out of breath, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, we only have it in large or anything under, not extra-large.”

Y/N felt her heart sink, she smiled at the employee anyway. “Thank you for checking.”

“No problem,” she smiled back. “Also… uhm-“ She pointed over her shoulder at the escalator. “-If you’re looking for plus sized items, they’ll be upstairs. We don’t have many extra-large alternatives downstairs.”

Not only had Y/N’s heart sunk to the very bottom of her stomach, now it had just fallen out of her arse and down to the bottom of the universe. Telling herself that the employee only meant well, Y/N nodded, thanking her, and put the tee shirt back on the rack. She walked to the escalator, taking it up and looking at the board for the overview of the different sections of the store. Downstairs was woman’s clothing, first storey was more women’s clothing, men’s clothing, and plus size, while the second storey was shoes, accessories, and changing rooms. That put Y/N off. How come there were more shoes and accessories being offered than plus sized clothing?

She started walking around the first storey, looking for the plus size section. It took a while for her to find it, but when she finally located it, she understood why and didn’t understand at the same time. The section was just as big, if not smaller, than the men’s clothing section, and how could she have not seen it when all the clothes looked the same? Everything looked at something her 50-year-old mother would wear, and though some of the items would look cute on her mother, nothing stood out to Y/N. None of the items were cute. In fact, they rather looked like bin bags with a bit of cleavage and zero tailoring to accentuate a woman’s figure. It just looked like clothes for the sake of wearing clothes, nothing that would stand out in a crowd or make the wearer look cute.

Y/N found a blouse that she was sure her mother would have loved, burgundy with blue flowers on it. However, she stopped dead in her tracks as she saw what was written at the very top of the blouse. Maternity. Quickly, Y/N put it back, looking around her to see if the maternity section was anywhere close to the plus size one. However, upon closer inspection, she realised that the maternity section was just combined with the plus size section. There was no difference. After all, it was all just bigger clothes. Plus size, maternity; did it matter.

Balling her hands into fists, Y/N left the store. She willed herself not to cry, not to lose it, until she reached a less crowded area. As she walked, it was hard for her to formulate how she was feeling. It was hard to put words to what she was going through. Even though she could’ve taken the tube or the bus, Y/N walked home. And in the 40 minutes it took her to reach the flat, she had not come to a conclusion to understand why she was so sad. The words were there, she could read them and see them, but as soon as she reached for them, to admit them to herself and to fully grasp them, they evaporated into grey vapour. She could not say it.

Sunday, 29 April 2018

“You’ve been quiet.”

Y/N tore her eyes away from the raindrops racing down one another on the window beside her. She glanced at Harry behind the steering wheel, his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he must have looked at her to understand that something was wrong. Or… well, he didn’t really have to. Y/N liked to talk, if she was quiet, then something was most likely wrong.

“Have I?” she asked, looking at her hands resting in her lap.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“No, I…” Y/N bit her lips together, feeling something in her throat clog up, as if the words refused to leave her mouth. She didn’t know what those words would even be if she were to speak them. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what’s wrong?”

She leaned her head back against the headrest. “Still working on it.”

“Alright,” Harry said, shifting his grip on the wheel. “Wanna talk? To get your mind off whatever’s bothering you?”

Y/N could feel herself smiling a tad at that. “Yeah.”

“I got the dagger tattoo.”

She looked at Harry. “You did?”

“Yeah, did some of it myself, but some angles were hard to do properly, so Wes helped me out.”

If Harry had only told Y/N earlier, he could have shown her the tattoo while they were still at the flat. Now, instead, they were in Harry’s car, driving down a tiny road that led to the cabin on the outskirts of Newport, Wales. They had been quiet most of the way, Y/N suspected Harry had given her silence so she could think. After all, they were going back to the cabin where her sister had been murdered, if she wanted to stay silent and reflect upon that then she should be allowed to. So, Harry let her be, only occasionally asking questions and making conversation, but for the most part, he just kept quiet, thinking and knowing that was what she really needed.

“You’ll have to show me later,” she said, smiling over at him.

Harry kept his eyes on the road as it went from gravel to dirt, making the drive bumpier than it already had been. Those same big trees rose above them that Y/N remembered from her childhood, keeping the best hiding places and all the world’s secrets. Leaves occupied the trees now working like an impenetrable roof for the forest floor beneath, which explained why the grounds were so brown and not a lush green colour.

“Down here,” Y/N said, her voice sounding faraway. Distant, even.

Harry must have noticed too, but he did not say anything, instead keeping his eyes on the road as it grew narrower. It did not even take a minute for the wooden cabin to show itself. An old Swedish couple had built it in the late 1980s, making it look very Scandinavian and half finished with its brown colour and small square windows. Y/N had not brought a key, knowing that she did not have the guts to enter the cabin just yet. She just needed a look, just needed to check something.

Harry cut the engine as they reached the parking spot Y/N’s papai always used. It was less of a marked-up parking spot and more of a convenient place to park your car. The ground showed of where a car had once stood many times over, and so Harry did the same as Y/N’s papai did. The window into the living room was just to Y/N’s left, and though you could barely make anything out without coming up close to look through it, she kept her eyes trained on the forest in front of her, not daring to even look in the direction of the cabin.

She closed her eyes, finding something that could resemble courage, and let it take over her. As long as she just did this without thinking too much, then she could get through it. She could reflect on what had just happened at a later time. Now, she just needed to get out of the car, and do what she came here to do.

She opened the car door and stepped outside, walking away from the cabin right away to create as much distance between her and the darkest place on planet Earth. Y/N heard her panicked breathing, and realised that if she looked at the cabin one more time, then that courage she had found bottled up inside her would not be enough to keep her on her feet when a panic attack came over her. She heard footsteps behind her and felt Harry’s presence at her side seconds later, his hands in his coat pocket as he looked up at the grey sky above them. It had been hot enough for them to wear tee shirts only yesterday, but now they had to wear jackets in order not to freeze. That was the weather in the United Kingdom for you in a nutshell.

“You alright?” Harry asked, his voice reassuring, but the hand he put at her back eased her more.

She nodded her head.

Harry looked around them at the dark forest that stretched out in all different kinds of directions, then scanning the sky above again. “This looks just as creepy as I would’ve imagined.”

Y/N swallowed, closing her eyes as she tried to calm her racing heart. The mere fact that the cabin was behind her made her want to throw up right then and there. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “You loved it here when you were little?”

“I did. It was a safe haven,” Y/N explained, opening her eyes again, facing the exact part of the forest that she wanted to walk down. “It wasn’t this dark before.”

Harry only looked at her, but the next second, Y/N walked away from the cabin, continuing down the path her sister had taken her all those years ago. Harry followed suit, studying the woods around them the trees they walked by, the thick layer of green leaves above them. A crease appeared between his brows, indicating that he was incredibly uncomfortable being here. Somehow, that comforted Y/N.

The two of them walked for a few minutes, Harry not once asking where they were headed or what Y/N wanted to do out here in the forest, only following and trusting that she knew what she was doing. These woods had been her playground when she was little, she knew parts of them as well as she knew the inside of her room home in Nottingham.

Finally, they reached what Y/N had wanted to come to Newport for. When she stopped and bent down, Harry almost fell over his own feet, for some reason not having seen this one coming. He only watched as she dusted dried and dead leaves off the forest floor, revealing the old and wooden hatch. Touching the handle felt strange, as if she were touching part of history. She slowly opened the hatch, revealing the ladder beyond and the darkness of the cellar. Seeing it again brought back the memory of her and Marcela being her together all those years ago, of seeing her sister lose grip of the last rung. Hearing her meet the floor of the cellar with a thud.

Y/N reached for the phone in her pocket, bringing it out and getting her flashlight out, pointing it down at the pitch-black hole. It was just as she remembered.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, taking a careful step towards the hole to get a closer look.

“A cellar of sorts,” Y/N said. “My sister once told me this was the best hiding place near our cabin.”

Harry glanced at Y/N then, knowing what was happening next. Y/N put her phone in her mouth like her sister had done, and then let her feet dangle off the edge of the hole. She gripped the topmost step and planted her feet on one further down.

“Y/N, that’s pure fucking madness,” Harry said. “Get up.”

She took her phone out of her mouth. “Harry, I need to check to see what’s down there. It might be nothing, but this has eaten me alive recently. I need to check.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, but let me go down there first.”

Y/N blinked. However, she did not protest, merely removed her feet from where they were already firmly placed on a step, and let Harry get his own phone out.

“Fuck, it’s dark,” Harry mumbled as he shone a light down in the cellar. “Have you been down there before?”

“No,” Y/N said. “But Marcela has. I suspect she’s been there multiple times.”

“Did the police ever find this place?”

Y/N thought for a second before she raised a shoulder in a shrug. “Dunno. I’ll have to ask mum and pai.”

Harry nodded, putting his phone in his mouth like she had just done. He sat down by the hole and took a grip of the ladder, a curl falling into his forehead as he started on his descent. Y/N watched him as he climbed all the way down, jumping off the ladder and onto the cellar floor with ease. He looked around, scanning the room slowly with his flashlight while Y/N sat by the top, watching like she had watched Marcela.

“The last steps are gone,” Harry called up.

“I know,” Y/N called back before putting her phone in her mouth, telling herself to just fucking do this. She had to do this. For Marcela. Y/N gripped the ladder and started climbing down like she had just watched Harry do, like she had watched Marcela do four years ago. The ladder felt old and rusty under her fingers, making her entire body tense up. She was ready to fall to her death any second, to be the sole reason why her and Harry starved to death in a cellar no one but them knew existed.

Finally, with sweat dotting her forehead and cupid’s bow, she reached the last whole step. But as she was about to put her foot there, she met nothing put air. She squealed a little, holding a little tighter onto the ladder with her hands and other foot.

“Oi,” Harry said, moving closer and putting a hand up. “Easy. I told you the last few steps had fallen off.”

Y/N furrowed her brows.

“Just jump, I’m here,” he said, voice so reassuring and warm that everything felt okay for a single second.

She did as he said, jumping from where she stood. Her feet hit the ground a little to hard, making her wince, but Harry was right there, one hand gripping her arm while the other arm snaked around her waist, holding her upright.

“There we go,” he mumbled, only just then realising that his phone’s flashlight was shining into Y/N’s jacket, making it harder to see the cellar. He took a small step away, letting her regain her footing as she glanced around. It was emptier than she thought it was. A simple wooden bed stood there, but no mattress occupied it, and some cupboards were on the other side of the tiny cellar, though some of the doors hung off their hinges, others looked fine, and some were removed. The walls and floor consisted of compact dirt, and the whole place smelled of rusted iron. Y/N hated it.

“Cosy place, innit,” Harry said, sounding like he meant the quite opposite. “Throw in a disco ball and you could host a rave.”

Y/N almost chuckled, but then her eyes landed on something on the floor beside some of the cupboards. A blue dog bowl. Whether it had been used for water or food, Y/N did not know, but it looked very out of place in such an old and dirty cellar. It had some dirt on it, probably having fallen from the ceiling and down into it over time, but the rather modern, blue dog bowl looked completely out of place. Y/N was certain this had not been here when Marcela was down there, or she would have told Y/N about it right away, even picked it up to show her.

What kind of sick human being had left a dog down in this cellar to die? Though it was dirty, the bowl did not seem to have been used. Maybe the dog had been given a last bowl of water before the owner just left it there to rot.

“What’s that doing here?” Harry asked, looking at the bowl over Y/N’s shoulder. He took it from her hands to examine it further, turning it over in his hand. “Strathy.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Strathy.” He turned the bowl, showing Y/N the name that was written on it in neat handwriting. “The dog’s name.”

“Strathy,” she mumbled under her breath, feeling an immense sort of sadness take over her. She might not like animals much, but even she saw how wrong this was.

Harry grimaced, clearly feeling absolutely disgusted with this as well. After all, his dad took care of dogs at a dog hotel in Buckinghamshire. He had a rather special bond with the animal, Y/N supposed.

“Who just leaves a dog bowl down here?” she asked aloud, not expecting Harry to answer.

He frowned at it, giving it back to her so she could look at it. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Y/N turned around, looking at the ladder. And it was as Harry had said, the last two steps were gone, laying in pieces on the floor beneath the hole. “No, it doesn’t.”

Harry glanced over at where Y/N was looking, furrowing his brows. “Your sister said this was the best hiding place by your cabin?”

“Yeah, in December before the year she was killed,” Y/N said. “No one would find you if you hid here.”

Harry looked at Y/N as she looked at him. “Then why did someone else, someone who clearly came here after you and your sister did in December, know about this cellar?”

Y/N felt sick. “They must have known the grounds pretty well to know this was here.”

Harry only nodded, eyes falling to the dog bowl in Y/N’s hand. She glanced at the ladder again, feeling confused and furious at the same time. Who had been here after her and her sister had?

Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Even though Y/N’s door was open, Harry still knocked on the doorframe, looking in through the small slit in the door to check if it was alright with her if he entered.

“Disturbing my peace and quiet,” she said jokingly, putting a few folded tops in her suitcase to bring with her home for the summer.

“Thought you would appreciate the sight of the biggest hunk on the British Isles,” Harry grinned, opening the door and leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Give you some inspiration. Some motivation, even.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, Harry chuckling at the sigh as she put some more clothes in her suitcase. The room fell back into silence as Harry gave her some breathing space, obviously thinking that she did not appreciate him blocking her in any way when she was packing. She was not packing her entire room, after all she was coming back in September, but most of her clothes were in London and she wanted to take them home with her so she could wear them there. They were of no use just laying in her dresser in Hackney.

“How’d the exam go?” Harry asked.

She looked up at him, taking in his simple outfit. A loose buttoned-up shirt in a nice cream colour was tucked into dark brown trousers, his feet bare and his skin already glowing with an oncoming tan. So, he had spent most of the day outside. The tan would look nice against his tattoos. Y/N’s eyes fell to Harry’s tattoos, the ones on his knuckles in Greek that she still did not know the meaning behind, and then the barbed wire, making him look more badass than Y/N knew him to be. He now had a fern just below the dagger he had taken in April and a leaf on his pinky finger just below the barbed wire. At this rate, Harry would be covered in tattoos by the end of the year.

“New ink,” Y/N noted.

The right side of his lips tipped upward as he looked down at his arms and hands. “Yes.”

“You’re just taking advantage of the fact that you know how to use a tattoo gun.”

Harry chuckled. “Someone should take it away from me.”

“Truly.”

“I’m scared that I’ll, like, come up with cooler tattoo ideas later on, but then I’ve already filled up the spot where it’d look best.”

Y/N tilted her head at him. “Then you should slow down the tattooing.”

“Nah, can’t do that, love.”

She only rolled her eyes again, sitting down on top of the suitcase so she could close it and pull the zipper shut properly.

“You didn’t answer me earlier,” Harry asked, walking inside and sitting down on Y/N’s bed. “How’d your exam go?”

Y/N sighed, resting her chin in her hand as she glanced over at him. “Alright. We had an hour to, like, answer the two questions, one short answer and then a short essay. I was about halfway through my essay when I realised I only had ten minutes left.”

Harry grimaced.

“So, I just had to write until my wrist and hand ached, and was about to start writing the conclusion when we had to hand the papers over. I think Isla wrote way more than I did, dunno how she managed that.”

“How many pages did you get in?”

“About 12.”

Harry just stared at her. “And Isla got more down?”

“I think closer to 20.”

“20 handwritten pages in an hour?!” Harry said, sounding absolutely bewildered.

“She’s a machine that one.”

“Obviously.”

Y/N nodded, getting up from her suitcase and walking across her bed to get to the windows. She closed them both firmly, pulling the white heart pointelle cami top further down her torso, though it was supposed to just reach her belly button. Thankfully, her black tights reached just a little bit further up, keeping any more of Y/N’s skin to be exposed than what she wanted.

“Okay,” she said, sitting down beside him in bed again. “I want to be sure you’ve actually gotten better.”

“Understandable,” Harry retorted, nodding slightly.

“So, I don’t want to do too much just yet.”

He stopped for a second. “What does that mean?”

“That I want to just make out and get a feel of where you’re at. I think sex comes when we’re both turning each other on to the point where it’s actually going to be enjoyable. When I’m wet enough and you’re hard enough.”

Harry tried not to smile, but Y/N could tell he wanted to flash her a smirk. “I can assure you, you can make me do anything, and I’d be hard on the fucking spot.”

Y/N’s chest felt warm, and within seconds, her cheeks were approximately around the same temperature as the sun’s surface. There was something so very sweet about that, yet incredibly hot. She looked away from him, trying to act unbothered as she tried to find her words again, but by the slight chuckle emanating from Harry’s lips, Y/N knew he saw right through her act.

“What I’m trying to say is that I just want us to get familiar with the other’s body. Foreplay isn’t just about touching someone; it’s about touching someone. Feel their crotch, slide your hand under their clothes, grinding against them to the point of torture sometimes. That’s when the best sex happens.”

Harry nodded. “Take it you’re a big fan of foreplay.”

“The biggest.”

“Feel like I’m in good hands, then.”

“Figuratively and literally.”

He smiled.

“If you matched me on Tinder, and we were about to shag-“

“-I actually don’t think I’ve ever been on Tinder.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s not a flex.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve got the app on my phone.”

“Wicked, you’ve got to show me then.”

She smiled, inhaling slowly. “I will. But first, let’s-“

However, fantastically, Harry took Y/N’s face in his hands and brought her to him. Before Y/N managed to finish her statement, they were kissing. The familiar feeling of Harry’s lips on hers made her previously tense shoulders relax considerably, making her involuntarily moan onto his lips. Harry kissed her more fiercely at the sound, moving closer so it would be easier for him to wrap his arms around her. She fell back onto the bed, crawling backward, and Harry crawled after her, settling himself so easily between her legs that it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The ease at which they were doing this felt reassuring, like a good hug after a stressful day. She trusted that Harry knew what he was supposed to do, that he remembered from last time. And oh, did he remember.

She felt his hand slide down her front, laying the smallest amount of pressure on her breast, and Y/N realised with a suddenness that almost made her gasp; Harry was trying to tease her. His fingers slid over her, never laying his entire palm down against besides that grip of her boob, but besides that, he was touching her as lightly as possible, leaving Y/N’s body aching in its waking.

“Where’d you learn that?” she asked between kisses.

“What?”

“The teasing.”

She felt him grin against her. “Do you really want me to tell you?”

“Surprisingly enough.”

He chuckled. “Well,” he trailed off, looking down at the duvet beside her face. “The internet.”

Y/N felt herself halt a bit, looking at Harry as he refused to still meet her eyes. “You’ve been searching around?”

“About sex, yes.”

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Really?”

“How many times do you want me to admit it?”

She giggled. “Harry, it’s not something to be embarrassed about.”

“I think it is.”

“No, it just shows how dedicated you are to this. Which is anything but embarrassing.” She tried to catch his eyes. “It’s actually rather sweet.”

He met her gaze then, staring at her for a long while as if he could not quite believe what she had just told him. “You think?”

“You think I would’ve said it if I thought otherwise?”

Harry chuckled. “True.”

She smiled, arching her back a little so her tits were pressed against his chest. Harry bit his bottom lip, looking down at her front as she lowered herself down onto the mattress again. Raising her eyebrows, she watched as Harry took in her tits again, looking over at her with anticipation etched into his irises.

“I’m trying to silently tell you to kiss me again,” she said.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, bending down over her again. “Right.”

“Other’s might not do that, they might tell you, or maybe even expect you to do so. So, try and decipher what that person needs, what they want.” She settled herself into her duvet cover, Harry sinking further in between her legs as she wriggled her hips ever so slightly. His lips parted, both plump and swollen from kissing.

“What do I do if they don’t say anything?” Harry asked, lips hovering above hers. God, how she just wanted him to kiss her.

“Communicate. You can’t expect someone to know you and your needs right off the bat, people are different.”

“Right,” Harry said, sliding his nose against hers.

“And now I would really like it if you kissed me,” Y/N whispered against Harry’s lips, making Harry grip onto the duvet cover above Y/N’s head. Fiercely, he pressed his lips against her, slowly sliding his tongue into her mouth, making all kinds of shivers run up and down her body. Even after just one time, Harry knew certain buttons of hers that he had to push in order to get a reaction out of her. She wondered how long Harry had gone out with his previous partners for them to give up on him so quickly. If they had just shown him what they liked, if they had just explored, then Harry would have been a decent lover. He was so incredibly willing to learn new things that it was almost ridiculous. How had they just broken things off like that? If they had just been a little more patient, then Harry would have genuinely surprised them.

On the other hand, he had not actually showed her how bad he was in bed, like he was making it out to be, which could truly be the game changer.

Regardless, in that second, Y/N did not care about Harry’s skills in bed, instead she focused on how they worked outside the context of sex. They were just making out now, just checking each other out, trying to think about various ways to touch the other in order to turn them on.

One of Harry’s hands rested at Y/N’s knee, bringing it further up her chest so he could get a bit better access. She moaned as she felt his already hardening erection against her, instant wetness pooling between her legs. Her grip on his shirt tightened and she felt her nails dig into his skin under his shirt, urging him to continue doing what he was doing. Just like she had shown him last time, Harry grinded against her, doing it slowly and rubbing himself very deliberately against her for his own pleasure, but also trying to make sure she enjoyed it. The desire that ran up her spine was undeniable, making all hair on her body stand on end. His hardness grinded against her wetness again, the both of them moaning at the same time, losing themselves completely in one another.

Harry’s hand ran down Y/N’s thigh, coming to rest at her belly, slowly making its way to her very centre. She felt a yearning so intense it had to radiate off of her, engulfing her and Harry. Halting a bit, Harry’s fingers seemed to retract a bit, unsure if this was somewhere Y/N did not want him to venture or it if was encouraged. Instead of asking her, like she emboldened him to do multiple times, he traced the same path back up her belly, going to grab her breast again.

Y/N made a noise of protest, taking Harry’s wrist in her hand. She could feel Harry’s eyelashes flutter open against her own, and she opened her own eyes, detaching their lips. Slowly, she slid his hand down the way it had just come, making him lay as little pressure on her as he slid his hand down in order to tease as much as possible. Personally, she hated when someone would tease her because it only made her want sex even more than she already did, making her hungrier and more desperate than she would like, but it also made for the best shags. Teasing and dragging out, being needy for one another, was what created the best action when you finally had sex.

As they were just above her centre, she led his hand to her inner thigh, urging his fingers to trace along the skin of one of her most delicate places. Harry looked down between them, eager to follow along with what she did in any way he could. With care and maybe a little too much roughness, she made him grab her, at once showing how he would cherish her but at the same time make her squirm for more when the time came. Though Y/N was doing it herself, it was Harry’s hand that touched her, that made her entire body vibrate with expectancy. She bit her bottom lip, eyes not wavering from his face.

Slowly, his pinky came into contact with her centre, then his ring finger, middle, index, and lastly, his thumb. Each felt like a firework, reverberating through Y/N’s body and lighting her core on fire. It had been a while since someone had touched her with so much consideration, so patiently. Harry’s eagerness to please her, even though she was the one that showed him how to touch her, made her even hotter for him, if that was possible. With ease, she put her hand over his, putting extra pressure on his hand now and a little extra on his middle finger, she dragged his hand over her covered up cunt. A small gasp left her lips, eyelashes fluttering slightly. Harry looked up at her instantly, lips parting as his eyes scanned her face, ready to take in each one of her features when she laid under him like this. She did it again, this time putting a little more pressure at the very top of her centre, making a spark flood from her clit and out to the very tips of her fingers. This made her moan, involuntarily arching her back just a little at the sudden flash.

“Now you go,” she whispered, their eyes not wavering from one another.

Harry nodded, looking down between them at where his hand rested in her like that and then her removing his hand, letting him either mimic her moves or do something different. He watched his hand at first as it slid over her, putting that extra amount of pressure at her bud, making her gasp for breath. His eyes landed on her face again, eyes intent on her as he did it again, this time inhaling sharply as she moaned under him, of his doing.

“Just like that,” she encouraged, voice half moan and half mumble.

Harry did it again, earning the same reaction from her, his breath coming out all shaky, as if he could not quite believe he had this effect on her.

“You look bewildered,” Y/N said, trying not to laugh.

“I always thought that touching someone like that would be a little much too soon. Would you not rather I touched your cunt when we’re naked and about to have sex?”

“Yes, of course,” Y/N said, regaining her breath. “But you’re showing me what you’ll do to me when we actually get naked. Teasing can be pure torture, but it’s what makes the reward so much better when we actually fuck.”

Harry nodded, his already red cheeks reddening considerably. “Alright.”

Y/N smiled. “What?”

“I guess I… I’m not used to being…” Harry sighed, looking away from her and at his hand fisted in the sheets. “It’s vulgar.”

“What?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Touching me?”

“No, touching like that. Grabbing someone through their clothes, touching your cunt like that.”

Y/N smiled again. “I can tell by the way you’re whispering the word that you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, it’s just a new way of having sex, I guess.” Harry blinked. “Also, what word do I whisper?”

“Cunt.”

“Oh.” Harry met her eyes again. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It’s… vulgar.”

“It’s dirty,” Y/N said. “Not my cunt,-“ Harry laughed at that. “-but the word. Saying it, especially in this setting, is hot.”

“You like dirty talk?”

“When it’s done right. When it’s not, it can really ruin whatever’s going on.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said, nodding slightly. “There’s a balance.”

“Exactly,” Y/N smiled. “Annalise told me about this time she had sex with an American, like proper southern American.”

Harry chuckled a little at just that.

“And they were in doggy, so she asked him to grab her hair, and-“

“-Do you like that?” Harry asked rather quickly, as if the question had occurred to him on the spot and he had been unable to stop himself from asking.

“What, having my hair pulled?”

Harry nodded.

“Dunno, haven’t really tried it.”

Harry smirked, and Y/N could already see what he was thinking. She only rolled her eyes and continued on with the story, the bulge of Harry’s trousers pressing against Y/N’s centre.

“Anyway, she asked him to pull her hair, and if you, like, grab it with one hand, that’s hot and feels good, but if you grab it with two, if feels more like you’re trying to ride a horse.”

Harry chuckled.

“And while this man was holding Annalise’s hair with both hands, he just said ‘Easy, girl’ and this southern accent, and it sounded fully like he was trying to calm a horse down.” Y/N suspected that Harry was laughing more at Y/N’s attempt at a southern American accent than the actual story, but seeing him howling on top of her, burying his face in her neck to laugh some more there, made it impossible for her to even finish the story. They laid like that for a little while, just laughing and bathing in each other’s presence. It took a while for them to look at one another again, smiling when they remembered how ridiculous Y/N had sounded and how this all happened in the middle of a rather heated moment.

“Okay, let’s move on,” she said, making Harry chuckle some more.

“Right, what’s next?”

Y/N pushed him off her and down onto the bed beside her, quickly straddling him. She leaned down, kissing him hard, having missed the feel of his lips in the few seconds they hadn’t been touching hers. Harry’s hands fell to her bum, pushing her down onto his hard cock, Y/N instantly reacting by letting go of a small groan. He knew what to do now, how to handle her with care, but also make sure to let her know who was in control. Well, kind of, anyway. She was certainly the one with the most control out of the two of them.

She started grinding against him, sliding her hot core over his erection, a shock of pleasure running up to her chest, heating up her entire body. Harry must have felt something similar because he moaned into her mouth, his grip on her arse hardening along with his cock. She did just that again and again, feeling him become more desperate under her, grabbing onto her thighs and arse, one hand holding onto her neck to keep her lips on him. She felt herself get more needy as well, suddenly wanting to feel that release she had told the both of them that they would not be chasing today. However, when she was this wet and he was this hard, both of them clawing, gripping, and moaning at each other, it was very hard to remember what they had agreed upon earlier.

“Do you want to be in control?” she mumbled against his lips, a shaky breath leaving Harry’s lips.

“Show me how,” he said, panting just like she was.

She took his hands, putting them above Harry’s head. “Keep them there,” she said. “Don’t move.”

“What happens if I do?”

“I’ll have to punish you.”

A breath left Harry’s lips; his eyes filled with lust as he looked up at her. He only nodded, looking absolutely entranced by her. Y/N pressed a kiss to Harry’s jaw, then another one to his neck, then the front of his collarbone, feeling him squirm beneath her as she did. The need to have his hands on her, to make her grind against him to feel something, was clearly an instinct that was hard for him to fight.

“Lay still,” she urged him as her hands found the collar of his shirt, fingers sliding over his exposed skin until they came into contact with the button that kept his beautiful chest from being bare.

Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt. She kissed down his now exposed chest, making her way down his torso until she was by his navel. Untucking the shirt, she undid the last button before pushing the fabric to each side, baring his chest to her. The red dragon on his right back and the black on his left were finally right there. The tattoos she had been thinking about for so long now, finally right in front of her. She made her way up to them, tracing her finger from the head of the red dragon that almost reached Harry’s collarbone and down in a circle and some waves before reaching the tail that ended up right beside his nipple. The black one did only slither to create one wave along its long and slim figure, but its wings were bigger, almost reaching Harry’s left shoulder, while the pointy tail came to rest just beside his nipple. Y/N could not explain how attractive she found his tattoos, especially these ones. Harry must have the exact same taste in tattoos as her, something that made her very happy about their little deal.

When she settled over his crotch again, his erection was even more prominent than before, the hardness feeling absolutely fantastic against her warm cunt. She put her hands on his knees behind her, slowly beginning to grind against Harry again. He craned his neck, lips parting as some slight release washed over the both of them. Dutifully, his hands still laid above his head where she had left them, where she hard ordered him to keep them. The sight of him displayed like that, all hers and trembling underneath her while she teased him, was maybe one of the hottest sights she had ever laid her eyes upon.

He looked up at her, eyes wild and bottom lip all dark pink from him having bitten it so hard while she had kissed her way down his chest. Their eyes locked, and Y/N could tell Harry wanted to grab her, to hold her to some extent. She recognised now that Harry liked holding her when they were like this. If they were getting things going, it seemed out of the question if he was not touching her to some extent.

Which must have been why he finally snapped, sitting up and taking a grip of her waist. Y/N exhaled sharply when Harry turned them around, making her back come into contact with the mattress again. Harry held onto her knee again before letting his hand trail up her side, the other one taking her hand in his, resting their intwined fingers above Y/N’s head as they started kissing again. Finally between her legs again, Harry started sliding over her again, this time his movements had a little more force behind them. She felt it in her toes, the heat in her core growing with each stroke. Bloody hell, she just wanted to fuck him right then. Harry had truly proven to her that he knew how foreplay worked, how incredibly important it was. Though he was the most impatient person she knew, he truly seemed to be enjoying himself when they teased each other like this.

Maybe, like her, he enjoyed the power it brought. You truly felt so powerful, so potent, so paramount, when you could make someone tremble at your touch.

Harry’s movements grew more frantic, his hands grabbing at her harder, and she felt her own nails dig into his flesh, begging him for more. Suddenly, without much warning, Harry got up from between her legs, and then made her turn over so she was on her stomach. This took Y/N completely off guard, but she welcomed the change, welcomed him trying something new and taking control. After all, that was what he wanted to learn how to do, how to become confident enough to order someone around in bed without thinking he was disrespecting them and their bodies.

Harry came to rest on top of her, his hand sliding from the rolls at her sides and up to her shoulder where he slowly traced his way to her neck. There, he took a light grip of her, bending down so that they could both feel his erection between her arse cheeks. Y/N closed her eyes at the sensation, feeling a very welcome chill run up her spine out of pure excitement. He stayed there, kissing her shoulder, her neck, breathing against her skin and making Y/N hyper aware of each one of his movements.

Because he remained immobile, she arched her back and lifted her bum ever so slightly off the bed. She pushed herself against him, then move her arse against him, wanting to feel some kind of friction even though it was barely existent on her part. Harry drew in a sharp breath and moaned instantly, holding onto Y/N’s neck with one hand while the other held him upright on the mattress. She continued to move over him and Harry grinded against her. Harry’s breaths came out quicker, slight whimpers leaving his swollen lips, vibrating against Y/N’s skin. It had certainly not been the point, but as Y/N understood what was going to happen, she just continued to rub herself against him, and Harry did the same.

His grip on her loosened and he put his hands on either side of her hips, moaning and panting and whimpering as he grinded against her. Suddenly, he jerked, and he gripped Y/N’s hips tight, trying to move against her, but he only managed to move in jagged motions. He came as Y/N slid her bum over him, feeling his cock move with each squirt inside his boxer, pulsating against the fabric; against her. Harry stayed like that over Y/N, and when she looked over her shoulder, it looked like he did not know what has just happened. After all, they weren’t supposed to do anything, really. They were just supposed to make out. And yet…

“In an ideal situation,” Y/N said. “You start having sex before that happens.”

Harry met her eyes, laughing loudly along with her. He fell down onto the bed beside her and she turned to lay on her back as well, both just looking up at the ceiling of Y/N’s bedroom.

“Note to self,” Harry said, still coming down from what had just happened, panting slightly. “Don’t come during foreplay.”

Y/N laughed, and Harry looked at her with the biggest grin on his face. “Add that to the list of everything else I’ve taught you, and you’ll be good for when we have sex.”

Harry chuckled, looking up at the ceiling again. “Tattoo appointment when we get back in September, then?”

She nodded, sitting up in bed. “Yeah, it’ll give me enough time to think about what I want tattooed.”

Harry sat up as well. “Imagine I’ll have a few more tattoos as well.”

“You’ll be working at Asgard this summer?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I’ll just either live here or at my mum’s, visit my dad a bit.” He shrugged. “But I have a tattoo gun so I’ll just do it at home, don’t need to be there unless I want some ink a place I can’t reach properly myself.”

Y/N’s heart stopped a little. “You have a tattoo machine here?”

Harry studied her face, a small grin appearing over his face. “Yeah. Your fanny fluttering at the thought?”

She slapped him across his still exposed chest; Harry laughed. “You know what, just leave. I need to finish packing.”

Harry grinned, getting up from the bed as he started buttoning up his shirt again, looking around Y/N’s room as he made his way for the door. “Will you miss London while you’re away?”

Y/N glanced around at her room, taking in the four walls she had spent so much time within during her first year of University. It did not seem real that she would be in Nottingham over the next four months, that she would go back to living with her parents for the time being until uni started back up again in September. Her first year had gone by so quickly, it did not seem real that it was coming to a close. She could not believe that it had almost been a year since she moved to London, since she med Chloe, Thian, Hayden, and Annalise, since she started working at Domino’s. It at once felt like ages ago, yet it also felt like it all happened last month. She remembered everything in vivid detail, and knew she would probably remember her uni years that clearly for eternity. So far, it had been the best time of her life.

She nodded her head, looking back over at Harry again. “I’ll miss it. But I’ll be back in September to pester you another year.”

Harry grinned. “Good, almost thought you would stop bullying me by the time we get back.”

“No, don’t you worry,” she said, smiling. “The bullying won’t stop for the world.”

Harry tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, whipping a curl out of his face as he said, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Friday, 17 May 2018

“Happy birthday!” Hayden screamed when Y/N answered their FaceTime call, their hands over their head and their short hair an absolute mess. They dropped their phone onto their bed, only to appear a second later with a red party hat on their head, waving it in front of the camera.

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, mate.”

“What’re you up to today?” Hayden asked, leaning back against their headrest.

“Well, since I’ve already been awake three hours, I have been up to quite a lot, actually.”

It was Hayden’s turn to laugh now. “What’s that then?”

“Pai and I made some pão na chapa, which is essentially skillet toasted French bread rolls, for breakfast, nothing extravagant. Then we went to pick up a cake that mum’s had made for the occasion, and then mum took me shopping for some new clothes. Just got home,” Y/N explained. “But we’re having a big lunch later with our entire family and we’ll serve a big dinner then.”

“Sounds like a very you birthday.”

“Good thing it’s my birthday, then.”

Hayden laughed, leaning their head back against the wall and forgetting about their birthday hat, making the string snap off their chin and the hat fall off their head. Y/N chuckled as she sat down in her bed as well, looking over at her window to see if it was closed or not. Her papai must have opened it while her and her mum were out shopping. Y/N quickly walked over to close it, but then a breeze came in through the small slit, cooling her down in what had already been the starts to a very hot mid-May day. She left it open.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Hayden said, throwing the party hat away somewhere in their room.

“Yeah?”

“What do you want for your birthday? Like, is there a specific birthday present you’d want from say…” They shrugged. “Me, Thian, Annalise, and Chloe.”

Y/N smiled. “You’re getting me a birthday present, are you?”

“Of course!” Hayden said, sounding shocked. “You’re our mate! Now, what do you want? It can be anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Y/N thought for a second, sitting back down on her bed. “Maybe like concert tickets, but not expensive ones for like a popular band. Maybe for a more lowkey one, one where tickets aren’t super expensive, and we can all go.”

Hayden nodded. “That sounds like so much fun, though. Just the gang, and your flat, of course.”

Y/N smiled. Someone shouted something in the back of Hayden’s end of the call, making them groan loudly before rolling their eyes.

“Right, my mum needs me to come downstairs. But,” Hayden said, getting out of bed, stepping on the party hat and crushing it under their weight. A stream of curse words left their lips before they bent down to retrieve it, showing it to Y/N before throwing it away in the bin. “We’ll bake a cake when we see each other this summer, okay?”

Y/N’s smile widened. “I’d love that.”

“Good, ‘cause we’re baking a cake when we see each other this summer.”

Y/N giggled. “Your mum gonna kill you or something?”

“Think she’s just realised I’ve raided the cupboard of Digestives.”

Y/N laughed.

“I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” Hayden smiled, waving at the screen.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said. “Hope you survive your mum’s wrath.”

“Doubt it.”

Y/N smiled, waving at the screen before they both hung up. A knock sounded at Y/N’s door a second later and then her mother walked into her room, smiling at her. She held a white envelope in her hand, holding it out for Y/N to take.

“You’ve got post, my dove.”

Y/N halted a little, unsure of who could possibly want to contact her through post. Lottie walked back out the door, leaving it open as she walked back downstairs, Davi’s singing sounding from the kitchen as he prepared everything for lunch. Y/N sat back down in her bed, studying the envelope in her hands closely. She thought she recognised the handwriting at the front of the envelope that spelled out her full name and her Nottingham address under it rather perfectly. As she turned the letter around to see the return address on the flap of the envelope, she realised why.

13 Dovecote Close, Princes Risborough, Buckinghamshire, HP27 9JU. Harry E. Styles.

She bit her lips together, already feeling the oncoming grin tugging at the edges of her lips. She should not have put it past Harry to do something for her birthday, this was just like him, to go out of his way and send her something in the post rather than just give it to her while they were both still under the same roof the week previous. Y/N opened it, peeking inside to see two different notes, reminding her an awful lot of the ones she slid under his door to set up a time for their little sessions. She reached in, pulling one of the two out.

Happy birthday, Y/N. Turn this around to see what I think your next tattoo should be.

She did, only to find herself laughing instantly. A heart was drawn on the other side, ‘Harry’ written in magnificent handwriting inside it. She let her finger trace the letters, imagining how smug Harry would have looked drawing this, knowing exactly the kind of reaction he would conjure up out of her. Chuckling still, she reached into the envelope and pulled out the second and last note.

And here’s something I actually think you would like.

Turning this one around, she found a drawing that took her breath away instantly. With black wings spread wide, almost glittering in the light that was supposed to shine on them, a crow was drawn in vivid detail on the other side. It looked strong, terrifying, even, staring straight back at her with an intensity and intellect only crows managed, as if they knew all your secrets and weren’t afraid to tell them to the wind, letting them carry through the world. Y/N ran a finger over the crow, feeling very overwhelmed all of a sudden. She had not expected him to draw something for her that he thought she would like tattooed on her body forever, yet here he was. It was the most beautiful thing Y/N had ever seen, and she wondered what had made him draw it.

Y/N awoke gradually, suddenly realising with slow efficiency that she was awake. Her room was draped in complete darkness, the streetlamp outside her window having been turned off for the night. Her eyes focused on her door for no particular reason, zoning in and out of what was going on, part of her thinking it was a dream while the other told her she was awake. Once she realised this was indeed reality, she tried closing her eyes again, readjusting the placement of her head against her pillow, tucking the duvet up to her skin.

A car drove by. Y/N’s eyes shot open. The car sounded closer, as if she had just stood outside, and she quickly realised why that was. Y/N had not slept with her window open since before Marcela disappeared, not in this house. Preferring to keep it closed, it felt safer that way. No spirits, no people, nothing, could sneak in through a closed window.

But as she heard footsteps outside, as if someone was walking hurriedly by her house, Y/N knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that her window was open. Wide open. It had not been that open since the night before Marcela was declared murdered. Grabbing onto her duvet, Y/N looked in the direction of the window only to confirm what she had been thinking. There her window was, the blinds open, open to let all the air, everything, inside. She wanted to get out of bed and close it, but her legs were locked to her bed, her limbs felt too heavy, too unsteady, for her to walk on right now. She had to calm down, blame it on her not closing her window earlier that day after talking to Hayden. That was it. It was the draught.

If she could just reach for her phone, she could call her mother and ask her to come into her room and close the door. Maybe she could check under her bed as well to make sure no one had gotten into her room in the time the window had been wide open. Y/N’s room was on the first storey, so it would be difficult to get in through her window, but she was also paranoid beyond belief.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw movement. A stupid sense of relief washed over Y/N, thinking that maybe Lottie had come to check up on her. But no, it was not her mum. Averting her eyes from the window, Y/N looked to the end of her bed, feeling her heart stop beating. Her body lay still for a few seconds until she suddenly started shaking. It was not violently, but uncontrollable. She gripped into her duvet even harder, telling herself over and over again that this was not real.

Not real. Not real. Not real. This is just a dream; you are just having a nightmare. Close your eyes. Go back to sleep.

And Y/N tried. She closed her eyes, telling herself that this was just a figment of her idiotic imagination. Whatever she had just seen was not real, it couldn’t be. However, falling asleep when you had just seen your dead sister standing at the foot of your bed was hard.

Y/N opened her eyes, feeling a small whimper leave her lips out of pure fear. Even though she could barely see without her glasses, she still saw that. Marcela looked at Y/N with an eerie sort of passiveness, eyes resting emotionlessly on her younger sister as she shook with fear in her bed. The only way Y/N could tell it was her sister was by the slight light that came naturally from the night beyond, only illuminating half of her dead sister’s form. She did not look dead. In fact, her sister had to be a hallucination. She looked like Marcela, yet she did not. It was strange, almost devilish. She wore the exact same outfit as the last time Y/N had seen her, a floral dress and her denim jacket. A tiny smile rested on her lips, but not one Y/N had ever seen before. There was absolutely zero joy behind it. It rather looked like she was smiling for the sake of smiling. As if to ease the nerves of a terrified deer before she attacked to devour every last bit of her prey.

“M-Mari?” Y/N croaked, still unable to move.

Marcela only cocked her head to the side, still smiling that bizarre smile, making her face appear uncanny. Slowly, she raised her left hand. Y/N felt herself shrink behind her duvet. Marcela’s eyes fell onto her wrist, and when Y/N looked, she felt herself draw in a shaky breath. Marcela looked up at Y/N again, that uncanny smile still lingering on her lips as her hand fall to her side again. Slowly, Marcela walked backward towards Y/N’s door, opening it just barely. Moving out of the light of the open window, Marcela looked like a ghost. Black like complete darkness, moving unseen and transparent towards the door. Keeping her eyes on Y/N the entire way, she stepped outside. The door closed just as gradually as Marcela had walked, barely audible as it clicked into place.

Though she was trembling, Y/N removed her duvet, put her glasses on, and shakily made her way towards her door. She walked around the spot the hallucination of Marcela had just been standing, refusing to be near it. Carefully, she laid a hand on her door handle, it felt cool to the touch. As if no one had touched it a mere minute ago. Or that person had been very cold. Slowly, she opened the door, looking out into the hallway beyond. No one was there. Not a trace, not a sound.

Y/N had a hard time falling asleep, and when she woke up at 6 the next morning, it barely felt like she had gotten any rest at all. However, she wasted no time. She got dressed as quickly as she could, put some contacts in, and sent a text to her parents that she was out and about. With some breakfast in hand, Y/N drove as fast as she could. There weren’t too many out driving now, but she knew that she would be spending a lot of times in queues the closer she got to the capital. She zoomed down the motorway, not paying any attention to anything but the road ahead. Whenever she went on drives like this, she would need to have some of her own music playing in the background so she could jam out. Music could wait right now, because there was something she needed to check. Something that could simply not wait.

Once she reached the outskirts of London, the traffic was horrendous, making Y/N bite her nails as anxiety and stress started eating at every single one of her limbs. Though it took a decent amount of time to get into London by normal standards, Y/N still felt like that hour and some was the longest of her life. When she finally reached Hackney, Y/N felt her anxiety ebb just slight away. Driving in London was ridiculous, but at least she knew the streets near her well and could take some small and less busy shortcuts.

On Orsman Road, Y/N jumped out of her car and ran for the flat building’s front door. Then, after unlocking it, ran for her flat, and unlocked that front door too before sprinting for her room. The entire flat was empty, no one but her were there, which almost made it wrong for her to be there, it felt like. This was supposed to be a place she shared with Harry, Nathan, and Mason. Not someplace to run through, anxiety high, pulse higher, to get to her room as fast as possible.

She burst through her door and looked at her desk, trying to calm her breathing down as the sight in front of her dawned on her. With clammy hands, she rubbed at her eyes, maybe that would help her see more clearly. But it made no difference. She walked over to her desk then, throwing the books on her bed and putting the mug filled with pens on her dresser as she searched everywhere. But it was of no use. None at all. The watch was gone.

This is what I imagine Harry’s crow painting to look like btw!

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 23rd May, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh 🏛️

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captainrogers-ass · 3 years

Text

Leather & Spice - Zemo x Reader One-Shot

Summary: You could never say no to a mission when it was Sam Wilson calling, yet cooperating with a convicted mass murderer hadn’t exactly been what you were expecting. Wounding, maiming, killing; those were all in your job description. Acting as Helmut Zemo’s lover was not.

Word Count: 4900

Pairings: Zemo x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic), Bucky x Reader (platonic)

A/N: Ok so I know I’ve been super inactive and I know this isn’t strictly Chris Evans related but I’m currently obsessed with TFATWS; more specifically a certain mass murderer. I’ve substituted Serbian for Sokovian, although Zemo talks to Bucky in Russian. As always, any and all feedback is much appreciated. I hope you enjoy!!! Let me know if you want a part 2!!!

The call had been tense, brief, and widely lacking in any important information, and yet you had still gone anyway.

No matter how many times the Avengers had screwed you over you couldn’t help yourself when Sam Wilson called. Your resistance was futile. He was too charming to say no to, and you were pretty sure he was perfectly well aware of that.

The private jet had been a nice surprise in all honesty. Sam had seemingly always had a knack for finding the seediest alleyway or dingiest motel room to meet up in whenever he called for your help, so you couldn’t help but smile at the change in scenery. Your boots clicked loudly on the tarmac below as you approached the plane, your hand pausing as it connected with the railing of the stair car, a small smile escaping onto your lips as you tried to contain your unusual excitement.

A butler with greying hair and aged skin greeted you at the entrance to the plane. He was dressed in a neat, black suit and smiled at you kindly upon your arrival, his arms already extended as he motioned towards your luggage.

“Oh, thank you,” you said with a smile as you handed over your bag.

The cabin was lovely; spacious, lavish and filled with two grown men who were currently too enthralled in their escalating argument to take any notice of your arrival.

Bucky and Sam were sitting next to each other; Bucky slumped over within his seat with his arms folded across his chest, Sam perched at the edge of his own seat, his hands raised passionately before him as he berated Bucky in a tone that was clearly trying to stay relatively calm but was miserably failing. You cleared your throat as a small smile escaped onto your lips; these two hadn’t changed one bit.

Sam’s eyes met yours first.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, immediately rising from his seat and striding the few steps towards you, engulfing you in a hug. “I wasn’t sure, you’d come. I haven’t seen you in so long!”

You laughed as you managed to extract yourself from Sam’s embrace.

“You know I can never say no to you, Sam,” you chuckled.

“It’s because I’m too handsome, right?”

“Sure.”

You turned your attention to Bucky who was now standing just slightly back from Sam, their argument apparently forgotten as Bucky smiled kindly towards you.

“Hey there stranger,” you said as you gave Bucky a brief hug.

“And here I was thinking I was the most antisocial person I knew,” he retorted.

“I haven’t been avoiding you two, I promise. I’ve just been busy.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “With whatever it is you do.”

You laughed but didn’t answer his implied question.

“This jet is a nice touch. How in the hell did you afford this?” you questioned.

The atmosphere changed immediately, the smile on your features faltering slightly as you felt the tension rise around you. Bucky turned his eyes to the floor, his figure hunching over slightly so that he looked far smaller than he usually appeared. Sam averted his gaze as well, instead turning to look at something past your shoulder.

“It’s mine actually. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Having worked in secret services your entire life you found yourself quite shocked at having failed to notice the third man on board. There was no doubt that this man hadn’t been in the main cabin upon your arrival, but having failed to recognise his presence until he spoke was an unusual oversight on your part; especially since he was standing quite close to you.

As you turned around you registered three things before your eyes landed upon him. Firstly, his accent was unusual, captivating and alluring, not one that you could outright recognise on an initial introduction alone. Secondly, his cologne was extraordinarily enticing; a dark, spicy smell that washed over you and filled your senses all at once so that you couldn’t help but inhale deeply to try and get another whiff of it. And thirdly, his presence was remarkable. Even before you looked upon him you could tell that this was a man of wealth; his tone, his posture, his cologne, his everything, oozed sophistication.

And then your eyes met his.

“I’m Helm-”

Before he could finish you grabbed the hand he had been in the process of outstretching for a handshake, twisted it behind his back before shoving him up against the wall of the plane with quite possibly a tad more force than was strictly necessary. A grunt escaped his lips as you did so, but whether it was from pain or surprise you couldn’t tell.

“Y/N!” Bucky and Sam yelled in unison.

“Would someone care to explain to me why there is a convicted criminal on board this plane.” Your voice came out far calmer than you were expecting.

“Well it is my pla-”

“Shut up,” you, Bucky and Sam all said in unison.

You pushed his contorted arm higher and a flicker of pain crossed his features for just a second, yet he remained silent. His face was pressed against the wall, your body weight holding him in place, and yet his eyes were trained on you, a piercing blend of hazel and gold that sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t resisting at all—which was surprising considering he could probably overpower you with his military history—and he no longer made any obvious outward indication that he was in pain even though the placement of his arm would suggest otherwise.

“We need him, Y/N,” Sam finally spoke up.

You struggled to pull your gaze from his, lingering for what felt like years.

“And his life-long prison sentence just happened to be up, I suppose?” you replied.

You couldn’t quite tell, but the subtle vibrations coming from Zemo made you think that he was laughing.

“Well, Bucky was the one who actually broke him ou-” Sam began.

“Oh yeah blame it on me,” Bucky exclaimed.

“Were you not the one who broke him out?”

“You know we needed him I was just the-”

“Ok, ok, boys,” you interrupted. “I really don’t care whose fault it is. What’s done is done. But will someone please explain why the hell we need a mass murderer’s help?”

“Well, there’s this new terrorist organisation called the Flagsmashers,” Sam began.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Zemo interrupted. You pushed him up against the wall harder but he continued on unfazed. “But I feel like this story is going to take a while so is there any possibility that I can have the function of my arm back, please?”

There was that accent again, so unusual and yet so smooth that it took you a few seconds to actually register what the man was saying. You glared at him for several seconds but eventually loosened your grip.

Immediately turning around, Zemo brought his hand up to rub at the arm that had been angled uncomfortably behind his back, his gaze never leaving yours. Your eyes travelled down his figure, taking in the luxurious coat draped around his shoulders, the well-tailored purple turtleneck underneath that shaped his frame well, and the expensive-looking black gloves that clung to his fingers. When your eyes returned to his a smile was peeking through onto his lips.

“As I was saying before, I’m Helmut Zemo.” You noticed that he didn’t extend his hand a second time for a handshake. “But I take it you already knew that…Y/N, is it?”

You didn’t answer, simply continuing to stare at him through slitted eyelids.

“I would say it is a pleasure to meet you,” he began again, making his way over to a small bar cart as he poured himself a drink. “But it was actually a surprisingly painful introduction.”

Extending a gloved hand towards you Zemo offered you a glass of the brown liquid. With some hesitation you accepted, your eyes never leaving his as your hand brushed over his gloved one.

Tearing your gaze from his you made your way to the seat in front of where Sam and Bucky had been previously sitting. Taking a sip from your drink you motioned for the two men to reclaim their seats.

“So, tell me about these Flagsmashers.”

“If we have to do something about this, I’m the only one that looks like a pimp,” Sam commented, looking down to admire the colourfully decorated suit he was wearing.

The four of you were currently walking across an empty bridge, the lights of the bustling city burning bright in the distance.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing; a sophisticated, charming, African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger,” Zemo replied, passing his phone to Sam, a photo lighting up the screen.

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me though.”

You walked closer to Sam, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at the picture. You laughed slightly to yourself.

“You sure you don’t have some alter ego you’re not telling us about?” you questioned.

“Ha, ha,” Sam responded dryly.

“So then who am I supposed to be?” you asked Zemo. “Some stunningly beautiful millionaire who also happens to look exactly like me, I presume?”

The sarcasm was obvious in your tone and yet you were still surprised at the small laugh that left Zemo’s lips. It was deep, dark, and didn’t last very long, but it was charming. You turned away from him and looped your arm through Sam’s instead, pretending to need assistance with walking from the six-inch heels Zemo had you wear.

The dress he had presented to you on the plane was surprisingly stunning. It was black and fell just above your ankles, a large slit running up the left side of the fabric and a cowling neckline that accentuated your figure perfectly. The back was low, the straps criss-crossing across your shoulders doing little to provide any solace from the evenings cold wind.

“In a sense I suppose that is correct,” Zemo responded. “You will be playing the role of my date.”

Your head whipped around to stare at him.

“Excuse me?”

Bucky and Sam tried in vain to hide their snickers. You punched Sam lightly in the arm.

“The Smiling Tiger, the Winter Soldier and I all have reputations that we can rely on here in Madripoor. Nobody knows who you are Y/N and that makes you the most valuable person here. By limiting you to just my date people will begin to underestimate you which makes you a valuable asset if things begin to go South.”

His words made sense and yet you refused to admit it.

“He’s not wrong, Y/N,” Sam whispered to you.

“I think if Bucky can pretend to be the Winter Soldier,” Zemo continued. “Then you will be perfectly capable of pretending to be my date.”

“No, I think Y/N still got the short straw here,” Bucky said, causing you and Sam to begin to snicker as a scowl appeared on Zemo’s face.

A black car began to approach you on the bridge, pulling up beside you. Just before you could open the door a gloved hand enclosed around the handle.

“Allow me, draga.”

He opened the door and motioned for you to enter. You met his gaze, raising an eyebrow up at him.

“I’m not your date just yet.”

“A lady should always be treated with respect whether she is one’s date or not.”

You hadn’t been expecting a response, yet he had provided one so quickly and with such sincerity in his voice that you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows at him. Your gaze lingered upon his for several seconds before he provided you with a curt nod.

You entered the car without another word, Zemo following in behind you so that you were now sandwiched between him and Sam with Bucky sitting quite comfortably in the front seat.

The drive into town was mostly quiet. You enjoyed looking out the window at the bright city, mesmerised by all the neon signs and blinding lights. The streets were riddled with guns; hidden in holsters on people’s hips, tucked into the backs of pants, or simply waved around nonchalantly. You checked the holster attached to your thigh for good measure.

Glancing into the rear-view mirror you could have sworn that you had met Zemo’s gaze for a split second, but with a blink of your eyes his head was now directed out the window, his gaze fixated on the passing buildings. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but returned your gaze to the window once more without a word.

The streets were crawling with criminals when you reached the bar. Guns were being waved around as if they were a fashion accessory and blatant felonies were being conducted out in the open with no attempt to conceal anything.

Zemo exited the car first, and as you scooted across the seat to make your own exit you found that familiar gloved hand was already extended towards you. Looking up, your eyes met his, taking his hand without a word. You were now in character and you were going to play the role as best you could.

You didn’t let go of Zemo’s hand as he helped you from the car. Instead, after waiting for him to close the door behind you, you looped your arm through his as you had done to Sam only minutes previously, this time leaning into him much more closely than you had done with your friend.

If Zemo was surprised at your gentle touch he did not show it. Instead he flexed his arm to bring you slightly closer before leading you, Bucky and Sam into the bar. As soon as you had exited the car it seemed as if the whole street had their eyes on you. Your heart fluttered nervously in your chest, but your features remained neutral even as your eyes roamed freely around your surroundings.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you whispered to Zemo. “But I think you should’ve given me something a bit more revealing to wear. This dress is beautiful, but I look so out of place.”

Zemo turned to you with a smile on his face.

“Any woman on my arm will always be dressed in the finest of silks. It would be far more suspicious if I made you wear a more revealing dress, trust me.”

His voice was low as he spoke to you, his gaze fixated on you as he smiled cheekily.

Your heart fluttered nervously once more.

The bar was loud, hot and filled with half-drunk people rubbing their private parts against each other. The popular neon lights trickled in to the establishment, casting contrasting shadows of yellow and red across the space.

A bartender greeted you as you approached the bar, his face stoic and void of emotion.

“Hello gentlemen,” he nodded towards Sam. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

Zemo answered for him.

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.”

The bartender turned to Sam.

“The usual?”

Sam nodded.

When the bartender returned with a snake and began to gut it right in front of you you couldn’t help the small smile that crept up onto your face when you realised what was happening.

“Ah,” Zemo began, “Smiling Tiger, your favourite.”

His tone was slightly mocking and it nearly caused you to burst out laughing right there, but you managed to retain your composure. Sam turned with a resentful look on his face to see you and Zemo trying to hide the smiles that were creeping on to your faces.

“I love these,” Sam said as he raised the glass to you.

You leaned your head on to Zemo’s shoulder in an attempt to hide your snickers. Sam clinked his glass against Zemo’s, and after some hesitation, downed the shot in one.

The smile was wiped from your face as you felt a presence approach you from behind, struggling against the instinct to reach for your weapon. Zemo felt you still beside him and immediately turned to meet the approaching man, placing you slightly behind him.

“I got word from on high,” the man said. “You ain’t welcome here.”

Zemo’s voice sounded nonchalant as he responded.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists he can either come and talk to me,” Zemo looked behind him to where Bucky was standing.

“New haircut?” the man said to Bucky with a scoff.

Zemo’s voice was deep and demanding, grasping the man’s attention once more, “Or bring Selby for a chat.”

The man left but now your senses were on high alert as Zemo turned back to talk to Bucky. Your eyes scoured the room, noticing several men beginning to approach you. Slowly your hand began to travel down to your gun.

“Not yet, dušica.” Zemo’s gaze turned to Bucky just as one of the approaching men placed his hand upon Zemo’s shoulder. “Zimniy soldat. Ataka.”

Without hesitating Bucky grabbed the arm of the man who had touched Zemo, bending it painfully backwards. You watched on with bated breath, worried for your friend as he reverted back to what he once was, not because he wasn’t able to handle the fight—he wasn’t even breaking a sweat as he took on three guys at once—but because of what this little act might have on all the progress he had made.

Your gaze flickered to Zemo for a split second to find that he was smiling.

“It didn’t take long for him to fall back into form,” he whispered to you.

Ever since this trip had begun you had slowly started to become desensitised to the fact that you were in the presence of a mass murderer, often forgetting at times that the man before you had caused so much pain and suffering. But now it hit you all at once, causing you to become quite repulsed by the presence beside you.

Wanting to remove yourself from his side but knowing that you couldn’t you instead leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“If you smile again from Bucky’s pain, I’ll punch your teeth in so that when I burn you to death they won’t be able to use your dental records to identify your body.”

To say that Zemo was surprised at your comment was an understatement as he whipped his head around to look at you, his mask of composure forgotten for a split second as his eyes met yours. He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes told you that he had not been expecting such a response. His gaze fell to the floor and you thought, just for a second, that maybe he was about to apologise, but when his eyes came back to look at you his mouth remained closed.

He noticed the change in your attitude immediately. Whilst you did not disentangle your arm from his, you now distanced yourself as far as you could from his side, your touch no longer the comfortable presence he had begun to enjoy, now cold and impersonal.

The sounds of guns being cocked brought your attention back to the room.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo quickly whispered to Bucky. “Otlichnaya rabota, soldat,” he said louder.

Everyone in the bar paused as Bucky let go of the man he had been in the process of choking.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender interrupted.

A small sigh of relief escaped from your lips.

The back room was poorly lit and smelt of alcohol and cigarettes, the wall to your left illuminated by small televisions that displayed the security camera footage from all over the bar.

Selby—a middle aged, menacing looking woman with short, platinum blonde hair—was sitting upon one of the luxurious couches, dressed in an ill-fitting suit with a loosely tied tie hanging around her neck.

“You should know, Baron,” she began, tapping her hand against the head of the couch. “People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.”

“Not a demand,” Zemo responded. “An offer.”

Zemo took a seat on the couch opposite to Selby’s, his hand in yours as he motioned for you to sit next to him. You paused for just a second before perching yourself so that you were instead sitting in his lap. As much as you didn’t want to be in this position, when you went undercover you did it well. Zemo’s face showed no hint of surprise, but his hands fumbled for a split second, unsure of where to place them before he rested one on your waist and one on your thigh, quite high up so that he was basically at your knee. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed and you found yourself quite surprised at his willingness to respect your boundaries.

Selby raised an eyebrow at you.

“A lot has changed since you were last here,” she said, her gaze now fixated on you. It made you feel uncomfortable, but you didn’t show it as you leaned back into Zemo’s touch. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

Zemo’s gloved hand began rubbing circles on your knee, your skin exposed from the slit in the dress. You were pretty sure he wasn’t aware he was doing it, but you weren’t altogether against the touch.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” he responded. “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“What’s the offer.”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum, and I give you him.” Zemo’s gaze turned to Bucky who remained stoic and impassive in the corner of the room. “Along with the code words to control him, of course.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately.” She paused as she considered the offer. “You were right to seek me out. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank…or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo questioned.

“Oh, the breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron.” Selby’s gaze shifted to Bucky before it returned to land on you. “Who is this beautiful creature you’ve got with you?”

You felt Zemo stiffen beneath you.

“Ah,” he began, his voice somehow having grown deeper. “This one isn’t part of the deal. She’s mine.”

There was an intensity to the way he said mine. It was subtle, but it was there, and Selby noticed it as she quirked an eyebrow up at him.

“Are you sure about that, Baron?” she responded with a laugh. “These young creatures get so restless. Are you sure she’s not bored with you already?”

Zemo’s hand was now gripping your thigh a lot lower than where it had previously been and a lot harder; not so roughly that it hurt, but hard enough for you to realise that he was unsure of how to proceed. You turned your gaze to Selby who licked her lips as your eyes met hers, before turning your attention back to Zemo. He looked up towards you, a confused look flashing across his eyes as he tried to figure out what you were about to do. Having made your decision—and before you had enough time to really question what you were about to do—you leaned down towards the Baron and collided your lips with his.

Zemo hesitated at first, his lips unresponsive against yours for a split second before he returned the gesture. His hands came up to tangle themselves in your hair, your own hands gripping the base of his scalp. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and turned slightly so that Selby had a clear view.

You made sure the kiss was dirty and ferocious, and it left both of you breathless as you pulled away from him.

You turned to Selby with a smirk on your face, wiping some saliva from the corner of your mouth with the pad of your thumb as you maintained eye-contact with her.

“Not quite yet,” you said.

A viscous smile spread across her face but before Selby could respond Sam’s phone began to ring, and everything went downhill pretty quickly from there.

When the sniper shot came through the window you didn’t have time to be surprised, immediately leaping to your feet, gun already in hand. Before Selby’s henchmen had even had time to react you had already shot a bullet into two of their chests, Bucky taking out the third man in the room.

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead,” Zemo said, quickly making his way back down to the bar with you, Sam and Bucky close behind, your gun back in its concealed holster.

Descending the stairs quickly, Bucky leaned back with a smirk on his face.

"Told you you got the short straw."

Punching him in the arm to try to get him to shut up you quickly realised your mistake as you brought your hand to your chest, pain flaring in your knuckles at having collided with the vibranium. A short laugh escaped from Bucky's lips.

"Focus," Zemo called from the front of the group.

You made your way back on to the street quickly, following Zemo as he hastily walked in a direction that you hoped would get you off the main strip. Looking around you as you walked you kept noticing people getting notifications on their phones and a bad feeling began to grow in your stomach.

A round of bullets were shot towards you, the proximity of the bang causing your ears to ring painfully. All four of you ducked immediately as you scrambled away quickly. Bucky and Sam ran forwards and Zemo, grabbing your hand swiftly, veered off into a small alley way, his hand never leaving yours as he ran. The sound of several footsteps followed close behind you, but before you could reach for your gun Zemo crowded you into a small alcove.

“What are you doing? They’ll see us here,” you angrily whispered. Your hand began to reach for your gun once more but Zemo stopped you.

“There’s too many of them,” he said quickly, peeking out from behind the alcove to spy on the approaching men.

“We’re sitting ducks here. I can probably get a few shots out if-”

All at once Zemo whipped back around and placed his index finger upon your lips to stop you from speaking.

“I’m truly sorry for this.”

For the second time that night Helmut Zemo’s lips were now upon yours, kissing you far more softly than you had kissed him before. His body was crowding yours against the wall of the alley way, his broad form easily shielding you. The footsteps got closer and closer, all the while you kept kissing the Baron. This time there was no tongue, just gentle lips upon yours as he kissed you tenderly and slowly.

That cologne you had first smelt that morning engulfed your senses now so that it was all you could smell. Your hands came up to grip at the fur collar of his coat, pulling him closer by the furred lapel, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the softness of it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the approaching footsteps; how close they came to you before they past right by, the group of men not giving you a second glance as one shouted orders to the rest in a language you couldn't be bothered to recognise.

At some point Zemo's tongue ended up in your mouth, or maybe it was your tongue in his. Either way you couldn't recall who had initiated it, and couldn't quite find the effort to care. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek whilst the other became entangled within your hair, pulling at your roots slightly so that you moaned at the feeling.

You moaned.

Pushing the baron away from you you immediately put as much distance as you could between the two of you. His lips were red and swollen and you were quite sure yours looked the same, both panting slightly as the cold air illuminated your breaths.

You could feel your cheeks begin to redden immediately, and swiftly turned away from him to hide your embarrassment.

You could still hear the men who had been following you, their footsteps far quieter now as they continued down the alley.

“I think they’re gone,” you finally said, having allowed the awkward silence to grow palpable between you.

“Yes…yes I think you’re right,” he responded, not meeting your gaze.

The sound of footsteps coming down the alley filled your ears once more, and this time you didn’t hesitate as you pulled your gun from its holster.

“Woah, easy there tiger, it’s just us,” Sam said, his hands held upwards in a sign of surrender.

You let out a sigh as you saw them and immediately felt Zemo’s gaze fall upon you.

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #daniel brühl #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #MCU

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cognitosclowns · 3 years

Note

Heres a hc :)) once AB is actually given the ability to leave the tube he finds himself hanging out there more than he had assumed. The gang gets him some decorations on his birthday (that he tells them he doesn't care about because he wasn't even born. They get him things anyway. He'll fry his own circuits before admitting he loved it) and he hangs out in the tube to get some peace and quiet from the gang. Brett gets him one of those robot pet things but like a cheaply made little bird. He says he's gonna throw it out but secretly he's smitten (he makes it a boredom project to program it to be smart, like an African grey. A robot man needs robot company on occasion!)

- 🌇

OH MY HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK <3333 THIS IS THE CUTEST SHIT

ALL SFW JUST SOME <333 FLUFF

YOU'RE ENTIRELY RIGHT, THIS MAN WOULD RATHER GUT HIMSELF THAN ADMIT HE CARES ABOUT ANY OF THERE MOTHERFUCKERS.

He makes the name based off of the start of the serial number printed on the side!! CRC-055789, AKA Circe!!!

RRRR <3333 he spends the entire day working on making that bird as,, Bird Like as possible.

He doesn't actually pick a specific bird in terms of,, behavior and design?? Just a mismatch of traits - very intelligent + observant, playful, full free-will. he keeps the appearance mostly the same, aside from a few details he etches in w/ a thin piece of metal.

ITS EXCEPTIONALLY SMALL. Barely the size of his hand <3 it kinda looks like a chickadee, but a little bigger?? if he ever gets out that bby is getting such an upgrade <333 probably like,, a fuckin Vulture. Decked out with a bunch of raw metal, just like him <333

ITS TALKATIVE AS FUCK. he loves the way ravens mimic human speech <33 so he made sure it could talk!!

it can't,, speak full sentences or understand what it's saying (mostly), just repeating little things!!

*AB gets distracted and accidentally bumps his tank on a table* 'oh fuck'

'fuck!'

'Hey - no. No.'

'.. fuck! fuck! ch-roo, fuck!'

'*sigh* alright, that's my own fault I suppose..'

Aside from swearing, it loves to laugh!!! like a combination of all the ppl it hears?? it's a very" ee-hehehe" kinda sound, layer over and over.

He talks to it all the time <3333333333333

'What do you think?'

'ch-roo!!'

'Oh I know darling, he is frustrating isn't he?'

He isn't really,, given a lot of materials, so he can't built it a perch </3

its okay <333 it perches on his shoulder <333 it picks at his cheek if he looks upset.

IT LOVES CHIN SCRATCHES. makes this,, cute little trilling noise?? oo-roo-roo <3

'hello my lovely - look at you <333, yes come here for scratches Circe <333, ohoho, aren't you precious.' he coos so much, its unreal <333 it absolutely starts repeating the stuff he says and embarrasses him. he is convinced Circe does it on purpose lmao.

OVERALL??? Oh he loves this bird <3 he would give his life for this bird. Anyone tries to hurt his Circe they're getting turned inside out.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA i will never recover this was so fuckin cute

#EEEE <333 HE DESERVES A PET #HE DESERVES A CUTE LITTLE ROBOBIRB <3333 #alpha-beta #robotus alpha-beta #sfw #fluff #MNSDMS i like to think it mimics his sighs too #*sigh* and then *sigh but smaller from circe* and he just.. 'dont mock me'#inside job #CUTE SHIT SUNSET THIS WAS SO FUN #i feel like he loves All Animals <3333

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royallyprincesslilly · 3 years

Text

Title: Healthy Competition***

Regé-Jean Page x Reader x Trevor Noah

Warning: Cursing. SMUT. Threesome. NSFW AT ALL. DP. Oral.

Words: 5k

Summary: Non-Covid world. End of Summary.

Note: I cannot be stopped. This is my first dip into either of these two on here. I tried to talk myself out of this, but I have no self-control. This is probably an acquired taste, but fuck it, I wrote this for my sanity.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG ❤️❤️

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

**Slightly Interactive**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A toast to Regé, our good friend who we’re out celebrating tonight. Every guy should hide their girlfriends tonight because Mr. Steal your girl has arrived,” Trevor teased.

Regé snorted and dropped his head back, laughing at his friend of almost ten years. He was absolutely ridiculous.

“Mate, you think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”

Trevor shrugged, “I mean, I am the comedian here, so--.”

He shook his head. “You’re not a very good one,” he teased back.

“Well, your tastes are slightly askew than the rest of the world. You are British after all,” Trevor quipped, making him and their shared friends bust out laughing.

“Oh, shut up. You’re the only one who has a problem with me being British, though we all know my Zimbabwean side would outperform your watered-down South African any day. The ladies prefer full strength over all else,” he slid home.

Trevor laughed loudly, slinking to the side as he snickered. He knew he had him but knew Trevor would have some comeback. This was their usual banter.

“Why do I smell a wager coming on? I feel like you’re saying you can get any woman in here to choose you over me.”

He knocked back his drink with a smile. “Maybe I am saying it.”

He watched Trevor gulp down his drink as their friends looked at each other with a cautious eye.

“All right, enough. Y'all remember the last time this happened,” Adam interjected.

“The last time? How about every time,” Marcus added before he took a sip from his glass.

“Remember that girl in Brazil, that one we met on Ipanema Beach, she owned the beach shack,” Adam reminded.

He remembered, and a few seconds after he did, he saw when Trevor did. His snickers returned.

“There was nothing wrong there,” Trevor pointed out.

“Yeah, because you won, proceeded to rub it in all night.”

“You couldn’t even bother to close the door of the shack. You just wanted me to hear her,” he said, shaking his head as the memory washed over him.

They’d gone back and forth with her all night. Each of them laid their game out, charmed her, put in their best work. He went to grab them all another round of beers and came back, and her small shack was shaking as her moans filled the night sky. Trevor’s laugh brought him out of his thoughts, making him roll his eyes.

“See, that’s why we’re not doing this,” Marcus finished.

“You’re not still salty about that, Regé, are you?”

He shook his head and raised his hands. “Not at all. you win some, and lose some.”

“One day, the two of you are going to pull this on someone who will make you two the competition,” Adam professed, making he and Trevor laugh.

“It’s not like we swindle anyone, there is consent, and everyone knows what to expect and not expect,” he threw out as he stood.

“Where you going?”

“Refill,” he said, holding his glass up to show its empty state.

He walked out of their section of the VIP area toward the VIP bar slipping through the crowd, making sure to not bump into anyone. When he was mere steps from the bar, someone bumped him from behind, sending him lunging forward, knocking into the back of someone else. He heard a gasp and automatically thought he’d spilled someone’s drink. Sliding beside the stranger, he leaned closer.

“I’m so sorry.”

You turned to him, pulling an oversized candy cane from your mouth. Instantly his eyes dropped to your mouth and that candy cane that slowly revealed itself to be several inches long. When he clocked that it was about seven inches or so that you’d pulled out of your mouth, he lost every single thing he was thinking, even his bloody name.

“Mmm, almost went too far,” you said, with a smile before you put the tip of the candy cane into your mouth. He instantly wanted to put something too far.

He watched you raise your glass to your lips before you put it back to the bar’s surface, and in went the candy cane. He was speechless, and it was something that rarely happened.

“Uh—I’m—sorry.”

You smirked and swiveled the stool to face him again and perched the candy cane to the side of your plump painted lips, and spoke. “You said that already.”

The way the red, white, and green colors of the candy cane looked with your lipstick made him wonder how other things looked with it. Clearing his throat, he looked away to behind the bar where all the bottles of liquor rested. He wasn’t trying to decide on what he wanted to drink. He was trying to gain some composure.

He heard your snort beside him. “Cat got your tongue?”

He looked to you, zeroed in on your eyes, and rose a brow. “What’s got your tongue?”

You smiled slowly, then pulled out that damned candy cane making your lips make that juicy puckered kiss sound.

“This candy cane at the moment.”

You stared at him as if silently daring him to say something to it. He smiled and nodded his head. “You brought a candy cane to a club?”

“It came with the drink,” you said, bringing the confection to the red-tinted liquid before you.

He watched you stir the liquid and return the candy cane to its rightful place—against your tongue for you to lick it slowly. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him. It was a damn candy cane.

“What can I get you?”

Before he could speak, you did.

“You look like a fun guy no matter what that crisp accent says. May I?”

He studied you for a few moments, then shrugged before he motioned for you to go ahead. You trailed the candy cane along your bottom lip as you looked over the bottles that lined the wall. You looked like you were in deep thought, and he made a note of how adorable you looked with your perfectly crinkled eyebrows, pursed lips, and fist resting on your jaw.

“Okay, I just need to know two things,” you began.

He smirked and sat on the stool next to you. “And what is that?”

You turned to him again. The crossing of your legs brought his eyes down to see the tempting split in the dress you wore. The luster of your skin raised the temptation he was feeling. He imagined how his hand looked on your body. It was the wrong thought at the wrong time because it made it impossible for him to look into your eyes again. He did, though, and when he did, he saw the mischievous glint in your eyes. He knew then, you were dangerous.

“Your name and favorite color.”

“Why my favorite color?”

“If you tell me red, chances are you like strawberry undertones. If blue, maybe a blueberry or blackberry.”

“What if it’s orange?”

“Then we should end this conversation now and go our separate ways because no one can pull off orange anything.”

He snorted and laughed. He liked you.

“Safe to say red is yours?” he nodded to your drink as his clue.

“Wrong, but this is about you. So tell me.”

“Regé and grey.”

Your eyes widened. “Regé as in reggae music?”

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“Wow, nice. I thought it was something stuffy like Albert.”

“Just ’cause I’m British?”

You smiled and shrugged. “And your favorite color, Regé, is grey.” I’m tempted to say grey isn’t a color, but okay. He’ll have that fifty shades of grey cocktail you tried to give me earlier.”

“Uh-oh, something fruity, huh.”

“Let’s add an extra shot for Mr. adventurous,” you added.

Turning his attention to you, he licked his lips and watched you devour that candy cane.

“What’s your name?”

You smiled and pulled the candy out of your mouth. “Y/N.”

He held his hand out for yours and waited for you to take it. Once you did, he shook it, never taking his eyes off of yours.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

You didn’t speak for several moments, and he wondered if he should have kept that to himself.

“Yes,” you said.

“Yes? Yes, what?”

You sucked the candy cane back into your mouth and took a sip of your drink. “Yes, I’ll let you buy me another drink.”

Ten minutes came and went, then fifteen, and he was in no hurry to go back to his friends. Your conversation was entertaining and titillating. You held his attention easier than any other had. Not to mention everything you did had his heart pounding. Once you’d finished that damn candy cane, your glass was what brought his attention to your mouth. When the drinks were finished, his eyes roamed your exposed shoulders, cleavage, and thigh until his palms itched to touch.

“I see what’s been holding you hostage, over here.” Trevor’s hand rested on his shoulder as he stood to there to his left.

“Hostage? Hardly,” you responded with a smile.

“I’m Trevor,” he said, holding his hand out to you.

After a few seconds, you took it and let him shake it.

“Trev here is a good friend of mine,” he began before taking a sip of his third drink. “Meet Y/N.”

Trevor smiled again. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

He couldn’t help but smile. He knew the game had begun. However, he’d had a twenty-minute head start. He watched Trevor order you another drink before suggesting you moved from the bar to go back to their section. You didn’t answer right away, and he didn’t know what you’d decide.

“I’ll meet you there. I have to freshen up,” you said, pointing toward where the restrooms were.

He pointed to where their section was before you walked off.

“May the best African win,” Trevor said, holding out his hand, making him roll his.

~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

You made sure to reapply your lipstick and rearrange your hair as you inspected your face. Pleased that your products were holding up, you stood there just staring at yourself, making a plan. They thought they were slick, you thought to yourself.

MSG Fifi: He looked hooked.

You smirked.

MSG: He’s hot.

MSG Fifi: So is his friend. What’s the plan?

You thought for a few moments because you hadn’t decided yet.

MSG: I’m going to go have a little fun. I’ll let you know.

You adjusted your dress then walked out of the bathroom. In the loud club again, you looked around, trying to remember when they’d pointed. You didn’t remember. Suddenly you felt a body behind you and a hand on your hip.

“Lost?”

The sexy British accent told you just who it was. Smiling, you bit your bottom lip, deciding you liked how he felt pressed up on you.

“What if I said I was?”

You could feel his breath at your ear and smell the hint of grape and vodka.

“I’ll find anything you want me to,” Regé groaned, making you tilt your head back to look at him over your shoulder.

“Anything?”

He smirked then licked his lips. “I’m not if not a gentleman. Anything, Y/N.”

The look in his eyes had you frozen in place, wishing he’d bring his large hand lower. You scoffed and got yourself under control

“Good to know,” you said before walking away, leaving him to follow behind you.

Once Regé led you to the VIP section, Trevor stood holding your drink to you. Having not been born yesterday, you asked a passing waitress for a fresh drink. Neither of them took offense. When you sat, you were in the middle of both men and able to appreciate the beauty that you both were. They could have passed for brothers, and when they assured you that they weren’t, you relaxed a little more.

After an hour, you’d learned quite a few things about both men. You leaned that while Regé had this overwhelming sensual vibing coming off him, he tended to hang back physically, but his eyes were all intensity, and you could tell he preferred words. When it came to Trevor, he approached things differently. He was a flirt through and through, and you could tell he preferred touch.

They were both like opposite sides of a coin, and you couldn’t decide which side you preferred. Some days called for heads and others tails. One thing was sure; they were both feeling you, and neither of them could hide it. It was in the way Trevor touched you with sly touches and in the way Regé reacted when you went close to him to whisper something or bit your bottom lip.

Two hours and countless drinks later, you still sat there with the two men, and you’d all but made up your mind. Regé leaned to you and whispered in your ear before he met your eyes. Nodding, you took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. Once you got to a semi-secluded spot, the song changed to Teyana Taylor’s new school version of Tell me what you Want, and you watched him bop to the beat while keeping on point. You were impressed.

Regé spun you around, so your back pressed to his chest and his hands wrapped around you. he smelled incredible, almost as incredible as he felt. That was when your movements synced together and slowed. You were now swaying from side to side. You began circling your hips against him and let him hold your hands in the air as you got into it. Regé came to your ear and whispered.

“Tell me what you want.”

Your panties were instantly wet. Fuck, you thought. In front of you, you watched Trevor approach the two of you. Once he was in front of you, the song changed again, and the slowest, sexiest tune came on. The lights in the club changed to a deeper hue of red. Trevor came so close that his face was just inches from yours. His hand wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you against him.

Goddamn, you thought as he moved your body how he wanted it. Your eyes met, and Trevor’s hand clasped your jaw in his large but soft hand. Slowly he slid his hand across your skin before you felt a hand on your hip spin you around. Your back was now pressed to Trevor’s chest while Regé was the one who was now inches from your lips.

The two men sandwiched you between them, each focusing on different parts of you. Trevor’s hand was wrapped around your abdomen, searing absentminded circles on the material of the dress you wore, while Regé’s was squeezing your hip, sinking in his fingertips, so they marked you. Trevor’s jaw pressed to your ear, which Regé’s was resting against your cheek on the other side of your face. You doubted anyone could tell where you began and either of them stopped. When you felt a pair of lips press against your right ear, your breath hitched in your throat.

Pulling back slightly, you gazed into Regé’s sultry almond-shaped eyes, and your hand balled the fabric of his shirt at his waist, hoping to control yourself.

“Tell me what you want,” Regé repeated.

Fuck it; you thought as you brought your lips to his kissing him with the scorching energy that was between the three of you. Regé delved his tongue into your mouth, wrapping it around yours, and it was then his hand slid lower on your hip and snaked back to your ass. As he cupped it, you released a moan unable to contain it any longer. When he sucked your tongue, you pulled back and nibbled his bottom lip. His moan caught you off guard and only fueled your steadily uncapping desire.

You felt Trevor behind you begin to pull away from you, no doubt feeling like the loser of their masculine competition of the night. That was when you pulled from Regé’s lips and pulled him back to close the space he’d created. You had both men’s undivided attention, and the power you felt was unmatched. Bringing your lips to Trevor’s, you kissed him with the same fire you had Regé seconds ago.

Again, you held control of this kiss. Trevor allowed you to decide just what you wanted to do, and it was probably going to be his downfall for the night. You bit his bottom lip, and his moan swam in your mouth, making you eat it like a succubus taking his life force. The decision was made.

You pulled away and found their eyes on you. Smirking, you turned with their hands in yours and led them through the crowd. You were thankful you’d decided on the club inside the hotel rather than the other one you and Fifi were thinking of. Once in the hotel’s lobby, you beelined it to the elevator bank and wondered if they were at this hotel too. As the elevator doors opened, you stepped on and waited for either of them to press a button. This was their turn to make a decision.

You pretended not to notice them give each other a look before Regé stepped forward and pressed nineteen. You smirked and rode up in silence. Interestingly enough, the elevator made no stops until it came to the nineteenth floor. You let them lead you, this time keeping a few feet behind them. You could feel their angst as they exchanged looks every few steps, no doubt trying to formulate a plan. It’s funny they still thought they were in control.

The two stopped at the door at the end of the hall then opened it. Regé was the one holding the door open, and Trevor stood on the other side, letting you walk in. You glanced at both men, smirked then walked inside. You walked toward the bar you saw in the corner, then took up two bottles before you continued walking through the suite. You knew the layout was similar to yours, so you just walked where you expected the bedroom to be.

Finding it easily, you walked in and found some music on the bedside table system, another easy feat thanks to apple music coming with every room. You pulled two chairs in front of the large window of the bedroom. You then walked to both of them and led them each to a seat.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You smiled at Regé’s sweetness and went toward him to sit on his lap.

“Would you like me to leave?”

He shook his head.

“Then tell me what you want.”

His lip quirked up at the side. He had to remember his words to you a little while ago.

“Will you give it to me?”

You kissed him again. as soon as your lips touched, his hands were cupping your ass, pulling you closer onto his lap. You felt the strain of his manhood against his jeans, and the anticipation had your sex quivering. Groaning, you pulled away and walked to the window. You put the bottles you held on the floor and turned to them.

“Since you like competitions so much, the first one to move loses.”

Trevor and Regé looked at each other quizzically. They didn’t get it yet. You untied the neck of the dress and slowly brought the straps down, careful not to allow it to fall from your body yet. Though the light in the room was scarce, you could tell the desire in both men’s eyes. You walked to Regé then turned your back to him.

You swayed your hips from side to side to the rhythm of the music bringing yourself down to the floor before coming back up to bend in front of his face. Peeking behind you, Regé’s jaw was clenched so tightly that you thought it had to hurt. You stood and swayed again to the sounds of Sabrina Claudio. In no time, you were lost in the music bringing your hands to the back of your neck, letting the straps hang around your waist.

Turning to them, you heard both audibly exclaim.

“Fuck.”

The accents were entirely different but sexy nonetheless.

“Something wrong?”

You stood between Trevor’s legs, topless, and circled your hips while doing your best snake charmer dance. You deemed it was acceptable because neither of them gave any indication otherwise.

“You’re gorgeous,” Trevor whispered.

You could see his hands clenching the arm of the chair and wondered just how much control he had in him. You pushed the dress off your hips and stood there in your thong.

“Fucking hell,” Regé uttered when you turned your back to them. Using the strong knees you were blessed with, you brought yourself low and popped a baby twerk, not wanting to give either of them a heart attack. Every time you changed the direction of your hips, you looked over a shoulder to watch them watch you. They looked absolutely tortured.

You walked to Trevor and stood there but stared at Regé. You motioned for him to come to you, and in seconds, he was by your side. You kissed him, taking the time to tease him with each passing second while noting he was a great kisser.

“Lay right there,” you said, pointing to the spot between your feet. Regé obeyed, then you dipped down to your knees, your sex hovering over Regé’s mouth. You were about to speak, but shock cut you off.

Regé wrapped his arms around your hips where your thighs met them and buried his face between your legs.

“Oh fuck!”

That was not the end of your shock because seconds later, you felt a wet velvety tip brush against your lips. You opened your eyes and came face to face with the impressiveness that was Trevor’s dick. You opened your mouth to speak, but a sharp stab of pleasure between your legs prohibited it. Your mouth fell open, and Trevor pushed himself into your mouth.

You almost laughed. They were the dream tag team. The room quickly filled with moans and groans as you pleased Trevor and Regé pleased you. The way his tongue flicked against your clit was quickly bringing you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the night. You knew if they had anything to say about it, you’d have more.

“Shit, your mouth—it’s—incredible,” Trevor panted, rolling his head back.

Not relenting, you bobbed your head faster on Trevor’s cock, taking him as far as you could. He grabbed your head and held it in place, then fucked your mouth, making you gag every so often.

“Uuuug!”

When he released your head you continued the pace and moaned on his flesh from the pleasure Regé was giving you but also the pleasure you got from giving it to Trevor. When you felt gentle nibbles, you pulled back and gasped, then began using your hands.

“Oh, fuck, yes! Right there, mmmm!”

Regé sucked your clit into his mouth as he reached up to one of your breasts to pinch your nipple. Following suit, Trevor did the same to the other, and that pushed you over the edge. Your screech was loud as it filled the room and probably the hall outside. Bucking your hips against his mouth, you rode his face as it was meant to be ridden.

When you rolled off of Regé and collapsed to the floor, the men stood and surrounded you. Regé went to your head while Trevor between your legs. You watched him sheath himself with a condom before he met your eyes.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded before you reached to palm Regé’s pulsating and impressive member. As your mouth slid along Regé’s length, Trevor’s slid inside your heated core, stretching you deliciously before filling you perfectly with his thickness.

“Good god,” Trevor whispered, hovering over you to catch his breath.

“You’re so tight, Y/N,” Trevor moaned, beginning to circle his hips.

With a full mouth, you were unable to speak and instead used the pleasure you felt to return it tenfold to Regé. His head lulled back while his jaw dropped, and he grunted, sending the last few inches of his need into your throat. You fought your gag the best you could. Trevor then sped his thrusts. Each time he connected your bodies, your breasts swung, and your sex clenched around him, gripping him like a vise.

Soon your moans and mumbles made it almost impossible to properly enjoy what Regé had to offer, so your hands to make up for the job your mouth couldn’t do. Trevor’s thrusts got rougher, and in seconds you’d come for the second time. Using your feet to push him off, you stood and crawled onto the bed. While lying there, you watched both men slowly approach you. Regé was the one between your legs this time while Trevor was beside you.

Trevor wrapped his lips around a pert nipple, then sucked, licked, and nibbled it. As your mewls spilled from your lips, Regé still had yet to move an inch. He kneeled there, rubbing the tip of his cock across your soaking slit.

“You’re so wet. Show me, Y/N.”

You slinked your fingers between your legs and dipped one inside to show him the evidence of your overwhelming arousal. He smiled, then sucked your finger into his mouth before he thrust forward in one powerful move.

“Fuck!”

The men ravaged you, one with their mouth and the other with their skillful appendage. Where Trevor was girthy and nicely proportioned, Regé had been blessed with girth and an overabundance of length. It didn’t take much for you to come again and again and again. When you rolled onto Regé to take control, you took your time crippling Trevor as he stood in front of you.

The room was sweltering, and your bodies were slick with sweat, so every move the three of you made, the sound of bodies rubbing together echoed throughout. If it wasn’t the slickness of skin, it was the squelching of your wetness as they plowed into you or you rode them into oblivion.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The feel of both men nestled snugly in your tight trove was close to have to see stars. You crashed your lips to Regé, who was underneath you while Trevor was behind. He pumped more vigorously into you, making you pant and whine with each connection. Trevor, not being the one to be outdone, slammed into you, coaxing that spot in you that you knew would soon have you combust into a million specks of dust as you floated the galaxy.

“I’m coming,” Regé and Trevor both shouted as if competing for who could say it louder. You rocked your hips against Regé while slamming back onto Trevor. You intended to bring both men to their knees, but after a few movements, you realized that you’d come undone just as ferociously.

“Come for me, Y/N!”

Shivering, you tried to ignore the command as you repeated your actions over and over. Underneath you, Regé bit your nipple, and behind you, Trevor your shoulder. Either way, these men intended to sear their marks into your flesh. Something about that was so fucking hot. You sped your movements, and that was when your body shook.

“Fuck!”

Both men shook with you and released such loud grunts and groans that rivaled your own whining. Your orgasm was expected but what was not expected was how long it continued. After a minute, you were still coming with both men still trying to secure themselves as deeply into you as possible. Both thrust into you once more, and that was all you could handle before stars erupted behind your eyelids, making you clench around both of them.

Trevor and Regé gasped and hissed before the three of you dropped onto the bed. You were between them as all three of you tried to catch your breaths.

Your eyelids were heavy, your limbs tense, muscles tight, and between your legs sore. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. So you didn’t.

~~~~~~~

-The Next Morning-

When you opened your eyes, the sun had yet to rise from behind the high rise next to the hotel. It took several moments for your vision to return clearly. When it did, you looked around, recognizing you were not alone. You felt a body nestled to your back and one in front of you. You froze, not wanting to stir anyone awake. You didn’t want a whole morning after thing. This was not what this was. It took you some time to slither from the clutches of the gorgeous men you’d spent the night with.

Once free you stood there for a few moments and took them in. Trevor was on his side back to the window completely bare assed. It was a nice one too. His arm was thrown over his head leaving only part of his face visible. He looked adorable asleep. Regé was on his back, one arm over his head tucked underneath the pillow he rested his head-on. That was where your head had laid, right on his chest as if it belonged there.

You shook off any attachment that was trying to creep its way in. You didn’t often do things like this, matter of fact, this was downright as rare as a blue moon. However, you hated the cliché of women who got attached after clear one night stands. You never wanted to be one of them because you knew for a fact men always laughed at them. You wouldn’t be that cliché, you thought to yourself. You gave the men one last look, then turned to gather your things.

Once dressed and inside the elevator, you smiled to yourself. They really thought they picked you up when in fact, you’d heard their friendly competitive banter and decided a little fun was in order. Seeing how the night went, it was safe to say you were the real winner.

MSG Fifi: Everything okay?

You smiled to yourself.

MSG: Pussy put their ass to sleep. Call me, NyQuil.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @night-of-the-living-shred @mauvecherie @areubeingserved @queenoftheworldisdead @ramp-it-up @i-just-like-fanfics @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @wondersofdreaming @koko-michelle

#risk it all fic #regé jean page #rege jean page fanfiction #trevor noah #trevor noah fanfiction #black fanfiction #healthy competition fic

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wolveria · 3 years

Text

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 2

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

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

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang 2020 challenge!

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

AO3

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

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

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

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

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

He let loose a ragged sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said, shut the fuck up, Colin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Colin shrugged.

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

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

“Anyone find the android yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck?”

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

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

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

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

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

The prototype seemed unaffected by his rancor.

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

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

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

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

“Is that all?”

“There were no fingerprints on the knife.”

Connor shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell’s a deviant?”

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

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

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

Connor narrowed his eyes.

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

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

Recently. Interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was gone. Again.

The fuck had it run off to now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ralph.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

The perfect place to hide a killer.

Next Chapter

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

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id-rather-be-an-outsider · 3 years

Text

Pick Your Poison

Pieck Finger x Porco Galliard,

Pieck Finger x Zeke Yeager

word count: 1531

summary: Pieck is the receptionist for the science department at Marley U, Zeke is a professor in the same department. Porco is an intern who’s finishing up his degree to get on the faculty there as well. That is all. No story here, not at all.

a/n: I like college AUs, die mad. nothing horny here, just... aftermath. And just for clarity the behavior Pieck and Zeke exhibit as mentioned in this fic are NOT BEHAVIORS I CONDONE so if u do this I will berate you for it like a very disappointed mother

masterlist

“Fuck you.” I say as I put my clothes back on.

“You just did.” Porco says to me, “And don’t act like you didn’t like it.” He smiles like we’re in high school again and not newly hired university staff.

“I told you not to come over. Zeke’s gonna be here any minute.”

He scowls. “Oh, right, I forgot you’re only with him so your parents think you’re dating someone they like.”

I scoff. “Zeke is responsible! And mature, and thoughtful, and-“

“-Don’t forget using you for his own personal gain, purposely hiding your relationship from the general public so he can cheat on you-“

“Shut up.” I snap as he starts listing shit off on his fingers. “He’s only supposed to look the part, I never told him he had to act it.”

We rush to put clothes on in silence until he says, “Are you just expecting to date him until your parents die or something?”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Porco I don’t know! Are you expecting me to date you?”

“I’m just saying,” He deflects, “You know they won’t be satisfied with you and Zeke breaking up eventually. And considering you’re making attempts to hide us from him, you must know that Zeke feels the same way. And you’re catering to his feelings.”

“I am not.”

“Are too,” He insists, “And if I’m being honest, you need to figure it out. You know how I feel.”

I say, “And I told you, if you find someone you like better or are just interested in, you don’t need my permission to pursue them. Just don’t fuck me after that.”

“I know.” He says. “But maybe there is no one else who can pique my interest quite as much as you do.”

“You only like me because I’m unavailable to you, so it’s naughty and scandalous.” I roll my eyes.

“Maybe that was the case at first, but things change.” He admits, pulling on his shoes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, brows furrowed.

“What do you think I mean?” He counters. “We’ve been doing this, hanging out and stuff, for a long time. Don’t tell me you can’t think of one redeeming quality about yourself beyond just the sex that I’ve stuck around for.”

I can feel the heat coming to my face at his remark. “Well, not to be humble or anything, but I don’t really think about myself in that way all that much. So you’d have to tell me.”

“Oh, so you like it when I say nice things about you?” He says, standing up and walking over to corner me. “Didn’t know that.”

“That’s not what I said!” I argue.

He lowers his voice. “But don’t act like you don’t secretly like it. I know you too well for you to play me like that, Pieck.”

A knock comes from the door. My eyes widen. Zeke’s here. “Gimme a minute!” I call, then whisper to Porco, “You have to leave!”

“Off the back porch? But your neighbors will see me.”

“How else? And like they’d care, they have threesomes over there.” I punch Porco’s arm when he gets a look in his eye. “No. I don’t like sharing.”

“And I like it even less than you do.” He states, wrapping me in a quick hug and kissing my forehead. “See you later. Have fun with your Professor.” And climbs down the balcony as I run to the door.

“Zeke!” I exclaim, “I’m so happy to see you.” My warm smile falters when I see his face. He knows. I usher him in as I stare at the ground and close the door.

“I know that was Porco.” He says simply. Flatly.

“Y... yes....” I say, not sure exactly what to say.

“How long are you going to keep this charade up? Presenting me to your parents like we’re madly in love, meanwhile having him in your bed almost every night. Hm?” He asks me, not in an aggressive way, but definitely not gently.

I protest, “I could ask you the same, with all the panties I’ve found in your apartment.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand against his face. “Pieck, I only strayed when I suspected you and Porco. Not saying it’s an excuse,” He quickly defends, “But I think we both can agree the blood’s on both of our hands.”

“I didn’t start fucking him until I found the evidence against you anyways!” I scoff, knowing he’s full of shit. “And what about hiding our relationship from everyone and their mother?”

He looks surprised. “Well. Then I misjudged your relationship with him... partially. Anyways, why wouldn’t I? Everyone on staff thought you and Porco were together even before we started dating.”

“Zeke, you know all the rumors are just Connie wanting to feel included. He’s a temp worker for a reason.” I remind him.

“Well. What’s done is done, then. But... I have something for you.” He gets down on one knee, producing a small box from his pocket. He doesn’t open it, but I can tell what it is.

“Zeke, what is this...?” I ask, extremely confused as to why he would propose after confirming Porco and I were having sex behind his back.

“I won’t ask you that question, because it isn’t fair of me. But.” He pauses, intentionally making eye contact. “I can’t be alone forever. You know my... condition, makes me a ticking time bomb. If I were to propose to you, it would be under the assumption that we would end our scandalous behaviors and be committed solely to each other. I love you, Pieck. I know you feel something for me. But I also know you care for Porco. If you come to my apartment tomorrow and tell me you’ve cut that attachment off, then I’ll propose to you. If you tell me you couldn’t do it, then I want to part ways. I want to find myself a stable marriage. A loving marriage. One where I can raise my children with my wife, with the picket fence, with the house that looks like a cottage, and maybe a few dogs padding around. When I die, I want to feel like a piece of me is left in this world, not that the woman I married is going to forget me and run to the footloose rebel her parents never wanted her to hang around as a kid.”

I smile sadly and gently push his hand down. “I understand.”

He nods, putting the ring box away. “Thank you, Pieck.”

Zeke’s always been very precise with his words. That’s why he makes such a great professor. That speech is probably the longest spiel he’s been on outside of the classroom. As the science department’s receptionist, I’m better at listening than talking, myself.

I mull this over as I walk to Porco’s apartment, only knocking once before he opens the door. It’s almost like he has a Pieck satellite.

“That was a short visit. What happened?” Porco asks.

“He uh... well, he didn’t propose, but he posed the option.” I say awkwardly.

“And...?” He pushes.

“I turned him down. I told him about this hot intern who caught my eye, and that the university wants to hire them permanently after they get their doctorate.” I laugh.

He smirks, “Well, I sure am glad I managed to catch the eye of the cute receptionist in the science department. What do you think the faculty are gonna say about an inter-department relationship?”

“Oh, they’ve been shipping Piecko forever. I’m more worried about what my parents will say.” I half-joke.

He actually looks worried for a second. “What will they say?”

“Probably something along the line of, ‘You’re an idiot for giving up money like that!’ But I don’t mind being an idiot if it means I’m happy and in love.” I smile and hug him. “You know, Zeke’s vision of our life together was very cookie cutter.”

“Told you he wasn’t right for you. You, Pieck, are no cookie cutter kind of gal. But for curiosity’s sake, what kind of life would that be?” Porco raises a brow, patting the seat next to him as he sits down on his sofa.

“He wanted...” I pause to gather my thoughts. “Dogs, kids, a picket fence - the whole package.”

“Oh, dogs would never do for my Pieck,” Porco says dramatically. “Everyone knows you’d want an African Grey and a Komodo Dragon!”

“Don’t forget a Pixie Frog!” I add, now grinning from ear to ear.

“That too. And your fence would have to be scary, like fake heads on pikes and barbed wire to ward off your enemies.” He suggests.

“Exactly. Why have a protective barrier if it isn’t cryptic enough to keep intruders out?” I say in a tone implying that should be obvious.

“If only the science department knew they had such a weirdo running their front desk.” He jokes, “They’d hunt you down with Tiki Torches.”

“If they did, I’d curse Connie’s mom to be a giant monster, then turn into one myself.”

Porco leans in to softly kiss my cheek. “The faculty wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

#aot pieck #pieck finger #aot porco #porco galliard #aot zeke #zeke yeager #zeke x pieck #pieck x porco #porco x pieck #pieck x zeke #college au #modern au #outsider writes #fluff #steamy #sort of??? idk #connie springer

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that-damn-girl · 4 years

Text

(5) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Chapter 4

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 3700+

Summery: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an 'electronic blackout' during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky has become your personal heater and there's only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff.

Chapter/Triger warning: None that I can think of except for ‘highly self-indulgent’.

A/N: This is in submission to the lovely @sweater-daddiesdumbdork ‘s Any-Fucking-Fandom Fic Challenge. Check it out! My prompt is below.

Calloused fingertips ran slowly through your hair, absent-mindedly drawing varied patterns with gentle prolonged strokes. Eyes closed, you basked in the alleviating motion. The faint pressure of his tips combing through your scalp lulled you into a deep state of relaxation. Not that you'd been stressed before, but you welcomed the calming drift with open arms.

Head perched on Bucky's lap, you laid comfortably along the width of the bed on your back. The headboard of the bed supported Bucky's back as his legs were stretched, ankles crossed.

Flesh hand racking through your locks, his metal one was encompassed in the heat of your hold. It felt cool to touch, much cooler than the rest of him, but it had a certain aura of warmth. Languidly, you traced the smooth plates making up his palm and fingers and the back of his hand, committing every cranny, every nook to memory.

Your tips climbed up and down the dips of his knuckles, rounding the impeccably curved tips now and then. They seemed crafted as well as the natural human ones. With the whole of his metal arm being that way, you didn't know why you were so amazed by the uncanny resemblance.

Sweeping over the sleek black and gold plates over and over again, mapping the blend of contours and arcs, you said, "Never did I ever think I'd be tired of being uselessly free."

From studying the simple joints of wood panels on the ceiling, Bucky's eyes drifted down to you when you spoke, trailing over your delicate features and then again. Just because. He never thought he'd ever get tired of admiring your beauty anyways.

Eyelids shut, you looked content and yet dejected as your head rested on his lap. He knew you felt bored, hence the look of dejection maybe. He only hoped his presence was the cause of the slight contentment you felt.

It had been a couple of days since Bucky was able to contact Sam; three since they took refuge in this small cabin. There really was nothing to do except for eat, sleep, and repeat.

Chuckling, Bucky said, "It kinda reminds me of the time in Wakanda."

Opening your eyes and slightly craning your neck, you glanced at him. Though he looked at you, his eyes held a faraway gaze, as if having found a distant memory and reminiscing in it. Closing your eyes, you settled in more comfortably. You loved hearing stories about his experience in the astounding African country.

"Tell me about it."

Though you couldn't see him, you knew he wore a bright smile as he remembered the days. You interlaced your fingers with his metal fingers as his flesh ones occasionally twirled a few locks of your hair.

This was new, the touching at every moment, only for more to be followed in the next. Bucky Barnes was a reserved man. He did want a soft and comforting touch, but there weren't many people to give him that.

Steve, yes. Sam, sometimes. It wasn't as if he was open to letting others touch him either. He sought out the familiarity in the amiable contact, the assurance of no ill content behind it.

The past decade had taught him to believe a touch only meant one thing. Pain.

You had been with him as long as Sam had, but he was only able to open up to you in the recent few years. He had become comfortable with you. Didn't have any qualms about feeling your skin on him.

But there was always a limit. There was always a limit to how much he'd let someone in.

In the past few days, however, you and him seemed to literally keep in touch at all times of the day. Asleep or awake. It happened involuntarily, really. As if your hearts made decisions of their own, claiming what they desired.

Bucky had noticed that and so did you, but neither dared to comment on it. Afraid of making the other more conscious. Of losing the closeness it had brought along. Of losing the joy it brought to your hearts with just a touch.

Bucky tried to convince himself that it was because you needed it, the warmth the super soldier serum provided him. But what was the explanation of the warmth you gave him, without any enhancements?

You needed him, but he was no longer able to deny that he needed the feel of your touch much more desperately. He needed it every second of the day since he'd had a taste of it. A taste of what it felt like to be around you at all times. A taste of heaven which you brought to him.

From every fortunate moment he woke up with you in his arms to sleep in the same way, he'd cherished it deeply. He loved cuddling with you and being cozy. Whether you cooked, or ate, or just were together, you'd always found a way to touch each other.

Your touch had become familiar to him in such a soothing way; he'd been accustomed to it so well, he didn't even want to imagine how being without it would feel like once you'd return.

But he didn't want to burden the pleasant moment by worrying about the future. Choosing to savour it as long as he could, he clutched your hand protectively in his as your fingers linked. Warmth spread across his metal arm and it tickled as the heat made its way through his heart.

Sighing contentedly, he began, "After Shuri was able to get the effect of the words out of me, I was free to live outside the palace and with the crowd. I'd go to therapy daily at first, but the frequency decreased eventually.

"My only purpose there was to recover, to relax, so I didn't really have anything productive to do. The children would play with me and braid my hair, but there's only so much of that which could be done.

"I felt so useless there, I begged T'Challa to give me some work." He paused, laughing before he continued, "I remember the look Okoye gave me. She thought I was a dumb old bitch. Wanting to work when free time was gifted to me on a gold platter."

Bucky looked down at you when you chuckled. A beautiful smile graced your face, lightening up the glow already there. His pride swelled up a little, knowing and liking the fact that he could make you smile.

Beaming widely, he added, "I did the work they already had machines for. Loading and unloading. Carrying things from one place to the other. Just helping anyway I could, even if they didn't require it." He sighed, "Maybe I really was a dumb old bitch."

Chuckling again, you tried to imagine as you said, "Ah, city boy turned farm boy. What a sight it would have been."

"Picture oily, greasy hair, and mud ridden clothes. That's how it was like." He said.

Opening your eyes, you cheekily grinned at him, "I bet you still looked damn good, Bucky."

Feeling colour rising to his cheeks, he was sure he would've stuttered had he spoken anything. You saved him from that, "I've always wondered if the serum prevented you from being ticklish."

"Why?" The word wasn't even out of his mouth when your fingers teased the sides of his torso. The furrow of his brows instantly morphed into a merry stance as he snickered.

"Stop," He wheezed when you sat up and tickled him with all your might. Hands roamed over all the tickle inducing spots you could reach.

"Y/N, wait," His eyes crinkled as he laughed. Seeing him squirm under you, you giggled along with him, enjoying the elated mirth on his face.

Pleading requests reached your ears between huffs of gleeful laughter. His hands tried to reach yours, swiftly shifted out of his reach. Not for long though.

Soon the tables were turned. His hands caught up to you. When he started tickling your spots, you tried to shrunk into a ball.

"Bucky!" You cried, eyes closing as you laughed joyfully.

"Nuh uh, doll, you brought this on yourself." Snickering along, Bucky said mischievously as his hands lightly stroked your sides and under your chin.

You wiggled under him, but he didn't let you escape. His fingers danced along your body. You shrieked with mirthful laughter when he reached a particular spot.

Your arms thrashed about as you tried to stop him. Bucky caged your hand in his when they hit his chest. Laughing still, he placed them by your head bent over you.

Giggling softly, you slowly opened your eyes as you calmed down from the high. You saw Bucky holding you down, a light chuckle playing on his lips. Suddenly you realised how really close he was.

Long dark locks framed his features as he leaned over you. His scruff had grown in the few days you were here. You decided you quite liked the look on him.

You wondered if he was open to the idea of growing his beard again. Bearded Bucky was a spectacular look after all.

Delight was clear in his expression as his blue eyes stared into your own. Upon such close inspection, you realised there was a bit of greyish touch to his eyes. Almost as if they could be called ocean grey.

How many before you had realised it? Or if it was your mind making you see things because it was clouded with the fact of your close proximity?

Bucky's lips were plump and pink. They seemed much more bright and colourful against his pale skin in the extreme cold. Did his lips look this rosy before?

Bucky saw your eyes drifting across his face as a realization struck them. Your smile faded slowly but the dazzle in your made up for it as they took in every feature. When your eyes dropped to his lips, they stayed there for a while.

He couldn't help but glance down at your lips. Slightly parted, they looked so soft. He wondered how sweet they tasted. Overcome by an urge to kiss you deeply and find out for himself, he looked at your eyes and back down at your lips.

It was only then that he realised how close he'd gotten to you. His breath hitched at that moment. He became nervous all of a sudden.

Yes, you two had been close ever since this fiasco started, but never like this. This was new to the both of you.

Something must have given him away, because he felt you stiffen under him. You too had realised close proximity.

He was worried you'd pull away. Not that you could with bed beneath you, but you could always turn your head sideways. You didn't. Instead, your lips only parted a little more.

Only inches apart, he could feel everytime you exhaled. His heart raced with the possibilities of every outcome if he leaned down just a little more. How it could turn out, just like he'd dreamed about it. How he could finally have you as his.

And then the negative outcomes swarmed his brain. What if he was reading all the signs wrong? Granted he was an expert in body language, yet he wasn't a mind reader.

If he did close the gap but you didn't want it to happen, he could lose a good friend to awkwardness. There were also days to be cut until either of you would separate from each other.

The tension would be unbearable if you rejected his advances. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let any of that happen at all.

Bucky Barnes was a fucking coward and so were you.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. You didn't want him to, but you didn't stop him either. Freeing your hands, he sat on his knees beside you. Leaning on the heel of your palms, you sat up too.

Bucky couldn't meet your eyes as he looked down at his lap. You were much the same beside him.

The tension was so thick you swore it could be cut with a knife. Bucky didn't want to make things awkward, but it had already gotten so.

After spending a pleasant time together, you didn't want anything to become a thorn between the two of you. Without thinking, you quickly spoke, "Let's dance."

Bucky furrowed his brows, confusion overtaking his expression, "You wanna dance?"

"Yeah, let's." You shrugged, "It's not like we got anything better to do."

Bucky opened his mouth but closed it when nothing came to his mind. If you were trying to steer the two of you away from the unwanted tension, you were definitely succeeding. There was just one problem though. "I don't remember how to dance."

"It's okay. It's not like I'm Micheal Jackson either." Bucky was glad the reference wasn't lost on him. The spider kid was doing a good job updating him with all the highlights of the past century he'd missed.

Getting off the bed, you extended an arm towards him. Figuring just rolling with your idea would be easier than acknowledging the moment earlier, he followed you suit.

As he stepped in front of your form, you were unsure where to place your hands. Keeping some distance, you kept arms on his shoulder and linked your fingers behind his head. He brought his hands to your sides, holding you loosely.

You were close but not like before. He seemed to be fine with it and so were you.

You started with shifting your weight on either of your legs, proceeding to sway your body gradually from side to side and moving about in the small space of the room. He directed his body along with yours, going at it with the pace you set.

"There is no music, you know." He remarked.

You pretend to give it thought, "I would be all poetic and say the birds are chirping and that's music enough, but the thing is there are no birds around. Or any living things for that matter."

Bucky scrunched up his nose, "Sounds a little creepy, doesn't it?"

You nodded, "Yeah. Why don't you sing?"

"Uh, no. I don't want your ears to bleed." He chuckled.

You tilted your head, "Come on, you can't be that bad."

"Well, I am that bad. Deal with it." He said

You rolled your eyes comically at him, "Fine."

He raised a brow, "Why don't you sing?"

Not wanting to disclose your singing abilities to him, or rather the lack of it, you said, "Oh, just shut up and dance with me."

Snickering, he replied, "As you say, Ma'am."

Bringing your hands down to his side, you encircled them around his waist and placed your head on his shoulder. Swaying softly to the beat of your own heart, you enjoyed the rhythm already set.

It wasn't really dancing per se, but it sure was relaxing. His warmth seeped into you through the embrace and. You relished in the feel of it. His heartbeat was clear under your ears, lulling you into a tranquil state.

Bucky liked the weight of your head on his shoulders. The way your hands were clasped behind his back. He felt whole in a way he couldn't really describe. Resting his cheek on your head, his hands tightened their hold around you.

The quiet around you was comforting instead of unnerving like you had anticipated. You didn't complain.

You spent a long time swaying in each other's arms. It felt good, being held like this in Bucky's warm embrace. You enjoyed the moment as long as you could.

Slowly, in a voice so low he thought he might have missed, you said, "I miss Sam, you know."

Bucky felt a pang of jealousy hit him. Not that he had anything against Sam. In all honesty, he missed their banters and the constant quipping at each other. He missed his friend too, but a sense of insecurity followed as well. Would you have preferred Sam over him to be here with you?

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you continued, "Ever since we were active paramilitary, it was I, him and Riley, together everywhere. When Riley..."

You trailed off. Memories of the wonderful times with your late friend surfaced up. A lump formed in your throat at the onslaught of pictures flashing before your eyes of Riley pummelling to his death.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and tried to calm down. You bit your lower lip to prevent it from trembling. Years later, the guilt of not being able to save him still lingered.

Who else would know better than Bucky how it felt losing your best friend? The constant guilt which ate you up when you thought it was your doing. The rethinking of every decision made which led you to lose them. The never ending 'What if's.

He had fallen down that rabbit hole too many times, and you were always there to pick him up. He wasn't about to back out when his turn came.

Feeling a warm hand pet your head softly, you looked up at Bucky. He didn't say anything, but he smiled sweetly, encouraging you to continue.

"It was hard to deal with it, but we coped up together. Sam and I, we got closer than ever. He became like the brother I never had."

Bucky knew it wasn't the time, but he sighed in relief. It was all brotherly and sisterly and platonic love between you and him. Before he could celebrate though, you proceeded.

"Sam and I were inseparable after that, you know. Imagine my surprise when the one time I don't go on a morning run with him and he meets Captain fucking America."

You laughed at the memory of how mad you'd been at yourself for oversleeping that particular day. Sam had had to do quite some work to cheer you up.

"After the both of us became Avengers, we usually went on missions together. If we weren't on the same missions, or when I was on one while he was at home, the work to be done didn't let my mind wander. Even after he took the mantle, it was the same between us."

You sighed, "It just feels weird, spending all of my free time being away from him."

Glancing up at him, you kept your chin on his chest. Displaying a cheeky grin, you said, "But I am glad I have you here, Bucky. I like spending time with you, getting to know you better."

Bucky felt his heart soar within his chest. He couldn't contain the joy he felt at hearing that. Smiling widely, he tightened his arms around your waist, "I like spending time with you too, Y/N."

Placing your head on his chest once again, you said, "I think I'm gonna miss this when we get back. All these moments. This closeness we've had." You added for good measure, "You were the best cuddle pillow I've ever had, after all."

Bucky chuckled softly, his chest reverberating as he did. Perhaps the intimacy you'd developed was only because of the circumstances you were put in, but he didn't want to lose it. Only if as friends, the two of you had grown much more closer than before.

Just like you, he feared that when you'd be back to your normal lives, this connection would be lost. He didn't want to squander all the progress he had made with you.

But he also didn't want to fritter away the time he had with you right then only to worry about what would or could happen. He promised himself to appreciate and cherish any moment he had the chance to spend with you.

Softly, he said, "Don't worry about it, doll. We got enough time for that later. All we have is now."

"All we have is now." You repeated, snuggling closer to him, luxuriating in the feel of his arms around you and savouring the warmth of his embrace in the cold.

The bliss didn't last long though. There was a petty itch in your eyes, promoting you to bring your hands up to rub your lids.

Bucky pulled back when he felt the movement against him, "Hey, what happened?"

Face half covered with your palm as you tried to get rid of the itch, you said, "Something got into my eyes maybe."

"Don't rub your eyes. You're only going to worsen it." He tried to pull your hand away from your face.

Whatever it was, it irritated and burned the sensitive tissue of your eyes. You had to forcefully will yourself to let Bucky drag your hand away.

Leaning into you, he cupped your face in his hands and puckered his lips to softly blow on your eyes. Hot puffs of air hit you as he tried his best to relieve the itch. Keeping your eyes open was hard, but soon the unwanted particle was driven out.

"Better?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks." You muttered.

You realised a little too late the close proximity between you too. It was that moment again , rekindling the fire which wasn't really put off before.

Your breaths slowed and your heart thumped loudly in your ears. Bucky could feel the erratic beats of your heart against him. He heard you gulp as you stared intently into his eyes which looked hungry yet gentle.

Your pupils dilated as your gaze fell down to his lips, lingering there before coming back to his eyes. Pushing your tongue out, you tentatively licked your lips teasingly slow.

Your lips glistened as Bucky glanced at them. They looked soft and delicious, and Bucky had never wanted to taste anything as bad as them.

He had stopped himself from doing exactly that for a reason before, but with his brain clouded with thoughts about you and your lips, he couldn't remember why. It was as if his mind had stopped working, which he didn't doubt it had.

Bouts of confidence hit him in that moment, overhauling his senses and preventing him from thinking about anything else. Would it really be wrong to have your lips on his, to taste the sweetness of you? It was all he'd desperately wanted to do since a long time but never dared to.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he finally leaned down...

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway

Chapter 6

I think you all know ensues next. 😏

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Thank you for reading!

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

Note

I ALMOST NEVER SEE ANYONE WRITE ABOUT ARAN SO IM JUMPING IN- ;-; Can I ask for his girl helping him relieve some stress, massaging him and his hands then just a nice cuddle session after..? also Ive been shy to hop in but hi you're pretty and Id love to be friends with you ;-;

UMMM A BIG ACCOUNT LIKE YOURS THAT JUST REACHED 1.25K followers (congrats beb!!) peeps my work ?? And compliments me + gave me my first Aran requestttt ?!

*faints*

I feel like this is a proposal and the answer is YES boo 💍🥰 friendssss 🥺🤗

Anyway I hope you like it newest friend💞

————————————

Some Aran Ojiro x Reader Romance 😩🌹

————————————

you and your boyfriend Aran haven’t been able to see eachother much in the past year at all

He just made the Japan National Team which meant he was practicing and travelling all the time

You two keep up with nightly Facetime dates every night which is great but he almost always falls asleep on you in the first 20 minutes

sleepy muffin that we love so much

You don’t blame him considering his training regimen.

When he wakes up he’s literally talking your ear off apologizing because he feels like a shit boyfriend for falling asleep every time

“I did it again and I know you say it’s fine but it’s not. I’m so sorry Y/N. When I get home, I promise I’ll make it up to you baby girl, I promise. Have a great day Queen and remember I’ll be home to spoil you in 10 days. You’re not ready. I love you! Peace!”

As you lay in your empty bed the next morning, you just smile at the video of him apologizing to you while he is running around his hotel room to get ready for morning practice

Your man works so hard but he never fails to make sure he’s the first thing you see when you wake up and the last person you see before you fall asleep. It’s endearing

He is super super busy being a professional athlete but that doesn’t stop him from making you feel special in the little and big ways

Sometimes, he orders you breakfast or dinner from your favourite brunch or sushi spot that you two like to go to so that he can put a smile on your face when he’s travelling

All he asks in return is a cute selfie of you in your pjs and messy bun with the food and that is the only thank you he needs

Seriously send it though or he’ll spam your phone lol

Can I tell you a funny story related to your mans sweet foodie gestures?

Okay so One random night last weekend.....

You heard a knock on the door of your condo and you quickly paused your Netflix movie to dust the popcorn crumbs off Aran’s t-shirt you were wearing

You opened the door excitedly thinking it might be another Uber Eats surprise from your boyfriend but instead you see a grumpy looking Osamu standing in the delivery guys place

“Your boyfriend is annoying.” Osamu deadpanned as he glanced at you once before letting himself in.

“Uh, Nice to see you.....too, Osamu-san.”

Samu murmured something in response grumpily and went over to your kitchen island to place down a large brown paper bag.

“Stupid professional volleyball playing friend and brother,” He muttered under his breath. You watched him take out lots of food from his restaurant from your spot by the door, by the look (and amazing smell) of it the bag was packed with all your favourites. You were thrilled even though the grey haired boy in your kitchen wasn’t.

“Look at me! I’m Aran. My stupid Uber Eats app won’t work from mutant-spider Australia so instead of just chilling like a normal person I call and beg my very handsome and very successful restaurant-owner friend to make my girlfriend all her favourite dishes and drive them over in the middle of a rain storm. A rain storm!”

You held your ground back at the door (knowing good and well not to get in the way of Samu when he was in one of his signature bitchy moods) as a smile crept on your face. It felt like someone was squeezing your heart as you watched Osamu comfortably rummage through your cabinets and find your dishes. He plated your food beautifully like the professional chef he is, all while mumbling angrily under his breath about his quote unquote “Simp of a best friend.”

When he was done with the food, Osamu also pulled out a bottle of your favourite wine from his restaurant that only Aran knows about and poured you a glass perfectly, swaying the liquid around first to make sure it was rich. Satisfied but still annoyed, Osamu cleaned his restaurant’s paper bag contents away and then walked over to your spot on the couch to take a handful of popcorn. Still a grump, he met you back at the door.

Samu looked down at you with the irritated expression you’ve become accustomed to over the years.

“Aran also told me to give you this.” He deadpanned before leaning down to kiss the top off your head then left. You smiled, unable to stop bubbling over in giggles because you knew Aran just added that to annoy his affection-challenged best friend. You poked your head out to the hallway of your condo building, seeing Osamu’s retreating figure you sang:

“Thank you, Samuuuuuu! 🎶”

Effectively adding to his annoyance just like your boyfriend would have wanted you to.

Without looking back, Osamu just lifted up a cool peace sign that your boyfriend and the two brothers were notorious for.

That trio, man.

dinner that night was the best you’ve had in forever

Not only was it delicious but

You realized that very night that your boyfriend was the most remarkable human in the world and you didn’t deserve him

You checked your phone as you sipped your wine because you received several texts from your boy asking where his picture of you eating is and also asking how funny Samu’s reaction was

You giggled as you read the text and then you had an idea! 💡

You put down your phone and quickly changed into some lacy lingerie for the picture:

Your boyfriend always asked for simple ‘rates PG’ pics because he loved to see you bare faced and wearing his big clothes. It was so cute to him.

he would make each new picture you sent his two backgrounds on his phone and he relished in the fact that you were so beautiful when you didn’t try

You knew this, but you also knew that your man deserved a little ‘sumn sumn’ for making tonight so special for you 😉

You put on a little sultry makeup to go with your sexy number and went back to the kitchen to your food and wine

You took a much sexier picture than he would ever expect

Actually you chose to send him a boomerang:

one of your hair slightly disheveled and your tits basically out despite the lacy cover. You pressed the wine glass to your red lips and winked in the boomerang, wiggling your hips ever so seductively

•••

in a luxurious hotel in Australia, your stunning boyfriend just finished his shower in his hotel room

He dried his face with a towel and opened his iMessage app on his phone... effectively ignoring the:

“🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼it’s done.🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼”

text from his best friend Osamu and clicking your name instead

Aran swiped left on his phone hoping to see another cute picture of his girlfriend being sent to him that makes his day the brightest but what he actually sees instead almost makes him drop his phone out of his wet hands

No Deadass he almost dropped it! it slipped out of his hands 4 times

His heart beating because of his phone but mostly because you were the finest woman he’s ever seen, he replays your sexy boomerang 30 times, literally engraving every detail about you into his mind. If his teammates weren’t so nosy he’d love to make what you just sent him his background on his phone......but that wouldn’t work

He really treasured you and what you sent though. For Aran, the next 9 days at this Global Tournament could not go by fast enough.

Aran’s never asked for naughty pictures from you not once because he doesn’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but seeing that you did it on your own, of course it made him want to skip his National game tomorrow just to fly back and make love to you all night then rub your back the way you like until you fell asleep

Mans is in LOVE, you feel me?

He wanted to show you just how treasured you are for sticking by his side through all this travelling shit. He wanted you to always know you were his queen even if he was miles away

So, by you sending this sexy Boomerang and treating him like a King even though you didn’t have to, your man fell even harder for you

He had so much planned when he came home like always: spoil you with a shopping trip with your girls, a romantic spa trip for you both and a trip to the amusement park, but it seemed so far away now

Frowning, Aran texted you back a paragraph telling you how beautiful you are and how lucky he was to have you in his life for a plethora of reasons

He Facetime’d you for the expected classic 20 minutes while you wore that lingerie BUT he actually stayed up for 36 minutes because he was fighting sleep like a damn boxer. He wanted to see you... but of course his fatigue got the better of him and he fell asleep with a big smile on his face because you whispered goodnight

•••

the next day, after sleeping in, Aran woke up for his first tournament game and did all of his pre-game rituals which included calling you, and his best friends Kita & the twins.

He proceeded to his 6:00pm game as planned in the grand court of Sydney.

Aran sweetly signed autographs and Jerseys with his name on it that fans and little kids eagerly presented to him before and after the game that they had won.

“Mr. Ran’! Mr. ‘Ran! Volleybwall is my most favouritest sport to pway , too! Can I have hug???” Asked a particularly bouncy little African-Australian girl in the crowd. Aran glances at the dad for permission and upon granting Aran nodded kindly and picked up the toddler so she was propped up on his hip. The girl wrapped her miniature arms around the big volleyball star’s neck and squeezed tightly. Aran chuckled in his deep voice, exclaiming an “Ow! You’re a strong one, aren’t you? A future Ace for sure.” The little girl gasped at her idols words and hugged him harder. The dad had to literally rip her out of Ojiro’s arms because she didn’t want to let go.

“Don’t break the volleyball player, honey. They’re sore.” Said the father to his daughter.

Aran reached in his gym bag to collect a clean tournament shirt from his bag and handed it to the hysterically crying little girl. “Sore is an understatement. But....here, ‘future Ace.’ When you make the National Women’s Team and I’m the one at one of your games, maybe you can give it back to me.”

The little girl’s whole life was made as she immediately stopped crying and smiled widely, hugging the shirt close to her chest as if it might disappear if she let go.

Because he was a teddy bear and wanted to sign as many kids memorabilia as possible, plus give the youth encouraging messages....Aran usually stayed an hour or two later than the other players after their away games. Telling his teammates to go on ahead back to their hotel without him

HE’S PERFECT 😩

Sore as hell and more tired than ever after his big games, he picked up his phone to call you on his way back to the hotel

He loved hearing your voice it was so soothing to him

No answer. He tried 5 times.

Thinking you were probably working hard from home, Ojiro dragged his feet past the hotel concierge and used all of his slumped body weight to push open the door to his hotel room.

He didn’t remember it being this dark in here or even shutting off the lights when he left, but being too tired to care he dropped his huge bag on the floor, gripping his aching shoulder as he took one step to the right to flip on the lights

When he did, he had to rub his sleepy eyes because he couldn’t believe what he saw

“Y-Y/N?!”

Standing in the middle of his hotel room, you smiled brightly and ran to your boyfriend, wrapping your legs around his waist in a koala hug. You wore that lacy number you used in the picture you sent him last night. Your man stumbled back from the impact and overall surprise but once he was stable he hugged you back tightly.

“Oh my God, you look incredible, what-what are you doing here?!” He asked, still in disbelief.

You pecked his lips and jumped down. “After last night I missed you so much. So I just called into work, booked a 9-hour direct flight and now I’m here! I’m staying for the rest of the tournament. Hi, handsome!!!!” You had so much happiness and light in your eyes that it literally woke up your boyfriend by contentment, even though he was just on the verge of collapsing on his bed from fatigue minutes ago.

He grabbed your face softly in his large hands and tilted your head up towards his to give you a proper kiss, letting you know how happy he was through the kiss.

You pulled away. “Whoa! Someone’s happy to see me!” You poked his tummy.

“An understatement—Wait, what is that?” Finally looking away from your face for the first time since he entered his room, Aran looked behind you in awe. There was a rather large massage table set up in the centre of his suite.

“Oh, that old thing?!” You questioned playfully as you jogged over to the big table and showcased it with your hands like a Wheel of Fortune prize girl. “I tried to book a massage for you for tomorrow because I know you always forget, but they were all booked obviously so I just asked the guy downstairs—after name dropping you—if they could bring this up and they had no problem with it!”

Aran looked at you incredulously so you continued. “Lay down, babe. I know you must be sore after your game. I ordered food for you too but they said it will be up here in an hour and a half. So, I’ll get out some of your kinks now, we’ll eat, and then I can massage you more until you fall asleep.”

Aran couldn’t believe this was happening.

“But you just got off a flight, Y/N! You must be tired, too! I couldn’t possibly—“

You gave your boyfriend your best Osamu impression with your seriously annoyed frown. “Aran. You do everything in your power to make sure that I’m feeling more than amazing every single day even when you are halfway across the world. So now since I’m a mere halfway across the room, I want to do this for you. Please. Let me return the favour.”

Feeling too tired to bicker and knowing you meant business, your big man gave in. He removed his shirt when you asked and settled face down on the comfortable table.

You put on some soft r&b and took out the essential oils you bought from the spa and began to give your man a sensual but remarkable rub down, taking immense care in soothing his muscle pain in his legs and back

You listened for his groans when you reached particularly sensitive spots on his back and spent a lot more time in those areas

When you were massaging his shoulders you made sure to lean down every few minutes to kiss the side of his neck and Aran would sigh in delight every time.

“Y/N. I know you want to get all of my kinks out and trust me this feels amazing, but, if you keep kissing me dressed like that I’ll stop this massage to make love to you on this table. Okay?”

You giggled and smacked his booty.

“Kay.” 😇

When the food came, you and Aran opted to sit on the couch and eat, feeding eachother and kissing and just being all cute n shit—🙄

A/N: Can you tell how jealous I am?

After dinner and your night routines, you told your baby to give you his hands in bed.

you lotioned them in between your smaller ones and gave him a long, much desired, kneading hand massage in the pitch black room until he was on the verge of falling asleep.

“I love you, Y/N.” whispered Ojiro, his deep voice slower because he was half asleep. “Please be here when I wake up....” He whispered before succumbing to a deep slumber.

You stopped your massage, kissed both of his hands and cuddled into his warm body.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Aran.” You closed your eyes too, feeling sleep wash over you as well.... “I’ll always be here.”

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