Rewatching black widow has led to the conclusion that in the scene in Norway where Nat is watching the movie in her trailer, that woman is entirely just in a shirt and underwear.
norway nat is a favourite of mine, here is another lil taste of my brain. did someone order dirty talk? she's not wearing underwear this time
Nat emerges from the bathroom, quietly pottering down the hall to where you're half-lay on the couch with a book in your hands and a blanket over your lap.
She's wearing your shirt this time, you note. It makes you smile softly at her as she reaches you, taking the book from your hands and setting it aside. You know what she's after, her intentions clear when she straddles your lap and presses her lips feather light against your neck.
"I like when you wear my clothes." You mutter. Your hands find her hips, sliding down her thighs.
She sighs at the touch, humming at your words as she continues trailing her lips across your skin.
"This shirt is mine now, actually."
You grin, raking your nails lightly across her thighs. You hear a soft sigh against your neck, where her lips still linger. It makes you shiver.
"That's a shame," you note. Your hands roam, grabbing a handful of her ass in one and sliding the other over her hip. "I like fucking you when you're wearing my clothes."
Her breath catches, and she sinks her teeth into your collarbone, pulling at the skin with her teeth. She knows it makes you weak.
"But I suppose it'll do."
She groans against you when you grip her hip tighter, running your thumb over the bone and attempting to pull her closer yet.
"I was thinking about you in the shower," she murmurs. "I can't get you out of my head."
"Is that so?" You chuckle, grinning. "What exactly were you thinking of in there?"
Her hips are at your neck again, but firmer this time. Your skin's on fire. You might know very well how to make her weak, but you know it goes both ways. Her lips are hot, mouth wet, hips moving on top of you where she's seated. Fuck. You can't get enough of her.
Nat's moving up your neck, to your ear where she nips gently at it and whispers, "how badly I want your fingers in me."
Fuck.
You tangle your fingers through her hair, pulling her back gently for her to look at you. "They feel so good. I love the way I feel so full when you're inside me like that."
Releasing a low hum of appreciation, you attach your lips to her neck, biting softly until she emits that beautiful, soft whine you're used to when you find the spot that makes her tick. She isn't about to dance around and play games tonight, no, she's telling you what she wants and you'd be downright stupid to deny it from her.
"So is it a coincidence that it's one of my favourite things?" One hand remains in her hair, the other at her hip still, but this time encouraging her movements in your lap. "I just love how wet you get for me."
You litter kisses across her jaw.
"How you grab at my wrist when I've got my fingers in you. It's how I know you never want me to stop."
She moans. Soft. Your favourite sound. You know you're already driving her crazy and you couldn't be happier about it.
Your trail kisses up to her ear, lowering your voice to a whisper. "How hard it is for me to move when you're about to come around my fingers."
Natasha closes her eyes, clenching around nothing. God, she needs them. Desperately. She knows it, and she knows you know it. Both of her hands rest on either side of your neck, holding herself. Your voice, the eye contact, it makes her knees weak.
She rests her forehead against yours, breathing louder than she'd want to when the hand on her hip glides across her inner thigh. It's inching higher, and even though neither of you can count the amount of times you'd done this, the suspense is killing her. It somehow, always feels like the first time.
You kiss her hard. It's laced with want, need, love, passion, everything that makes her heart soar and a fire light in her stomach. She knows she's already embarrassingly wet, she has been since jumping out of the shower. But now, with your voice in her ear and your hands everywhere, Natasha knows she's a mess. She can feel it.
You can too, even without touching her between her legs yet. Your fingers rest at the top of her inner thigh, but you can feel the heat from her still. And as much as you love teasing her, hearing her pleas and begs, you want her. There's an overwhelming urge to just give her everything, so you do.
Your fingers graze her clit and her hips buck in surprise. She's so sensitive it's driving your crazy. She can't keep herself still. As soon as you make contact, she's rotating her hips for pressure from your fingers.
"God, fuck, that feels so good." She whimpers, pressing her lips to yours again. It's hungry, desperate and all-consuming. She needs you, and you know it.
She rests her forehead against your shoulder while you make slow, lazy circles across her clit. God, she's wet. You gather slick with your fingers and she groans when you meet her clit again. She's more and more sensitive by the minute, and the debate in your head of keeping her waiting or just giving her what she wants is a constant battle.
Her lips against your ear again, this time already breathless at the heat between the two of you that's come seemingly from nowhere. An hour ago you were playing a board game quietly, laughing to each other while some movie played in the background that neither of you were paying any attention to. Yet now, she was sat on top of you, cunt leaking and silently begging you to take her.
What makes you break though, is the one thing she knows full well makes you the weakest.
A final, soft bite at your ear lobe, and with her voice low, thick with arousal. "Please, baby."
Your eyes close, thighs clenching. Your other hand finds her hip, pulling her tight against your body. The fingers across her clit stop, but almost no time passes before you slip two of them inside her.
The moan in your ear is everything to you. It's pleasure, fireworks, lustful. Filthy.
Being inside her is like nothing else, especially when she clenches to get you deeper, keeping you inside because as she said herself, it's her favourite thing. You think it's yours too. Except of course, her whimpers directly in your ear, but they go hand in hand usually.
"Yes, yes, just like that."
You pull her to face you again, demanding eye contact while your fingers hit just where she needs them. Her hips move in rhythm, and fuck she doesn't know how it's always so unbelievably perfect feeling you inside her, your fingers curling, or thrusting languidly.
Her pupils are blown, and she smirks when she sees yours. She knows she's making you crazy.
"You're such a wreck, pretty girl, is this what you've been thinking about?"
She nods quickly, a god, yes, falling from her lips in a whine to answer you verbally.
"Touch yourself for me."
She smirks again, freeing a hand from your neck and trailing it down her stomach to her own clit. The moan is exquisite, and you're certain now you've ruined your own underwear. You can feel the wetness pool and your clit throb at the sight in front of you. Your stomach drops.
Natasha looks radiant like this, moving on two of your fingers and rubbing gentle, languid circles across her own clit. Your fingers curl and she throws her head back, neck exposed to you. You take the opportunity to attach to that spot again, suckling softly and grazing your teeth across it. You want to leave a mark, it's her favourite place and you both know it.
It makes her whimpers louder than before. It's all so good, every part of it. She can't get enough, and neither can you.
You fuck into her with your fingers, feeling the soft, spongy area that makes her collapse into you when you crook your digits. She's loud now, you know she's close already. You speed up your movements and she grips hard at the back of your neck with her free hand.
The movements across her clit are faster now, and you're in awe watching her make herself come for you. She can't wait any longer, that's obvious, but it's still as though she's waiting for permission.
"You gonna make yourself come for me, baby, hm? You gonna come around my fingers for me?" Your voice is low, laced with desire. God, she's yearning for it, her fingers moving faster. She's clenching around you, so hard you can barely move, just like you love to feel.
"Fuck, yes," she sobs. "I'm gonna come for you. Fuck-"
You feel it. Her body stiffens, mouth agape in silence, eyes still locked with yours until they roll back and her hips snap.
"Okay, baby, okay." You soothe her softly, the grip on her hip loosening and the fingers between her legs slow, guiding her back to reality. "I've got you."
She breathes heavy against your neck where she's collapsed against you. Her hips have slowed. Her quiet moans through her breathing are still there, though, because despite everything you're still inside her, and she's not about to forget that quickly.
"I came so fucking hard," she breathes, chest heaving. "I-christ."
"Mmhmm." You move your fingers slightly, and her hips jump against your hand. She's beautifully sensitive. "I know you did, sweetheart, I had a front row seat."
She laughs softly, moving finally. She brings her lips to yours, kissing your deep, slow. Her tongue brushes yours and you moan quietly against her lips. "Think you can handle an encore?"
1K notes
·
View notes
when we were teenagers (challengers)
pairings/relationships: tashi duncan x sister!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x fem!reader
summary: Tashi Duncan’s younger sister, Ava Duncan, never gets a chance to be seen past her sister’s shadow. When Ava gets injured and Tashi starts gaining fame, the two become more and more at odds with each other. Tashi juggles Art and Patrick while Ava struggles to keep up. When over a decade passes and a peace isn’t reached, either the Donaldsons or Zweigs, either Tashi or Ava, has to come out on top. (7.2k)
a/n: you know the movie was good when you have to rewatch so you have all the info for the fic🥴 with that being said, the dates and stuff may be a little off but i did my best with what wikipedia had to offer. regardless, im a patrick zweig stan 4L. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3
warnings: description of injury, allusions to sex/almost a smut scene, swearing
in this story, yn is: Ava Duncan
March 16, 2006 //📍home, 9:35pm
The goofy grin on the brunette’s face and the blond’s childish giggle replays over and over in your head. Your mother’s muffled snores mix with Art’s laughs as a smile grows on your face, your eyes closed.
You’ve found yourself in this position too many times, imagining what could’ve been if the cute guys were eyeing you rather than your sister. But you’ve experienced it enough times to not even be hurt by it anymore. No guys approach you at volleyball events, especially not hot ones. So if anything, you find some comfort in lying upside down on the corduroy couch making up scenarios in your head.
The click of the front door forces your eyes open, sitting upright and perking up like a dog as your sister tip toes through the door.
“So…” You rest your chin on your fist, “Which one was it?”
“Shh,” Tashi smiles, pointing to your mom’s closed door. “Which one was what?”
“Come on,” You continue as she stands in front of you, “Which one did you…Y’know.”
“Oh my- Neither of them, Ava.”
“What!?”
“Shh!”
You lower your tone, “Seriously? You were alone with them both and didn’t make a move?”
“It wasn’t like that.” She laughs, “They’re like…I dunno, they’re weird.”
You scrunch your face up, “What, are they gay?”
She pauses, cocking her head.
“They’re actually gay?”
“No, no they’re not.” She giggles, “I just didn’t do anything with them. I mean we kissed but that’s it.”
“Did you kiss the blond?” You interrogate, “I really like the blond…”
“His name is Art and I kissed them both.” She smirks.
You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”
Tashi laughs at you, plopping next to you on the couch and resting her legs across yours.
“They did ask for my number again.”
“What’d you tell them?” You stroke her leg.
“I said whoever wins the match tomorrow gets it.”
“God, I wish.” You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’d kill to see Art just one more time…”
———
May 15th, 2006 //📍home, 6:00pm
You wince as your mom tightens the brace, covering your face in frustration.
“It’s okay, baby.” She kisses your head, “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”
You nod as she presses one more kiss onto your hair before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
Almost every athlete you know has been injured before, half of the girls on your team are covered in braces and tape all season. A torn ACL seems more like a right of passage than a serious and life changing injury. But when you heard the pop and felt the ligament rip, it was almost immediate; The realization that you very well may never play again. You’re not sure if yours was worse than others or if you’re just weaker, but the trauma of the blistering pain has turned you away from getting back on the court for the last month.
You already can tell who’s on the other side of the door from the lack of a knock. You internally sigh, wanting to be left alone, as Tashi sits at the foot of your bed.
“Hey, I was thinking we could go to the courts today. I could practice with you.”
“Tashi…”
“I know you haven’t been wanting to go but since you just hit a month I was thinking, you know, maybe you’d want to start working again.”
You shake your head, “Tashi, I don’t think I’m ready.”
“When will you be?” She asks, her voice stern.
You stare at her, “I don’t know, Tashi. Why?”
“I’m just saying Ava, it’s not good to stop for this long. Some people never get back out there and you have to at least try.”
“I am trying.” You raise your voice, “My insides tore apart. Sorry if I’m not eager to put pressure on myself again.”
“There’s no pressure I’m just asking you to get up and at least walk on a court again.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because I’m fucking scared, Tashi!” You shout, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m fucking scared of it happening again! I am not ready!”
She stares at you, a look that you can only describe as disgust on her face.
“…You don’t even want to drive out there just to see-“
“Get out.” You cover your eyes, a headache creeping up on you.
“Ava, I’m not going to let you waste away in here-“
“Get out of my room or I’m calling mom.” You stare back at her, “Go.”
She stands, giving you one last look of disapproval before leaving, slighting slamming your door behind her.
———
September 18th, 2006 //📍Stanford Tennis Courts, 5:00pm
“Passing…Down the line…Cross…”
Tashi’s grunts echo throughout the court as you throw shots at her, a pile of green tennis balls forming behind you. It took a few weeks but she got you back on the court, just not the volleyball courts. You’ve watched Tashi’s practices long enough to know the game, so when you reluctantly offered to help her train, she jumped at the opportunity.
You zone out, robotically tossing the balls as Tashi dashes across the court. You silently hope for a specific someone show up. Patrick Zweig had your sister in his phone and occasionally in his bed, but Art Donaldson was a free man. The only Duncan in his phone was Ava, an achievement that you pride yourself on even weeks later.
Sure, the two of you aren’t a thing, not the way Tashi and Patrick are. But you’re happy to be anything with Art, so the talking stage that you seem to be stuck in doesn’t bother you at all. You can only pray that it’ll blossom into something. Something meaning you being Ava Donaldson in the near future.
As if you summoned him, a very familiar blond boy opens the wire door, locking eyes with you. Your heart skips a beat when he waves at you, your hand immediately dropping the ball and waving back.
Your sister turns around to see Art, a smile growing on her face as she walks over to him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug as you watch. They barely pull away before Tashi begins chatting, her face too close to his for your liking.
Across the court, they’re too far for you to hear their conversation. But judging from Art’s hand draped over her waist and her arm resting on his shoulder, you see enough to be angry. You can only look down, waiting for the conversation, along with your humiliation, to end.
After an abundance of giggles, Art turns and walks away, giving you another wave.
“I’ll see you.” He smiles.
You purse your lips, terribly embarrassed as you nod, “Yeah. Good seeing you, Art.”
The door shuts and with it, your smile drops. Tashi gets back into position like nothing happened, waiting with her racquet. Playing along, you throw her the ball. Only, you don’t call the drill. You throw with a little more force and much more unpredictability as the anger in you rises.
“Ava…” Tashi calls, frantically chasing the ball.
It’s only when the ball flies past her head, barely missing her, that she stops.
“Ava, what the fuck!?”
She walks toward you, meeting you at the net.
She shrugs, “What’s up, what’s going on?”
“Are you serious?”
She only looks at you, confused.
“Tashi, come on. You were literally all over him.”
“Wh- Art?” She deciphers, “Oh, Ava my bad I didn’t mean- I really didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, sure you didn’t.”
“Seriously, I didn’t. He’s my friend I was just saying hey.”
“Saying hey with your arms around each other? That’s bullshit, just say you still like him.” You look down, mumbling. “It’s fine, it’s just annoying that you go after every guy I like knowing they’ll choose you.”
“Hey…” Tashi softens her tone, stepping over the net and nearing you. “Ava.”
“What?” You look at the ground.
“I didn’t mean it like that…” She insists, “I’m just stressed with school and stuff, he’s the only one who gets it.”
“Right.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for ‘I’m stressed,’ to be the excuse for going after your guy. “It’s not like I go to school too or anything.”
“No, I know you do. It’s just…Stanford’s different, you know?”
“Whatever.”
“Ava,” She lifts your chin to look at her, “I’m sorry, okay?”
The two of you ogle at each other as she waits for an answer. She always does this, almost forces you into accepting her apology which you do not.
“We good?” She asks.
“…Yeah, sure.” You shrug, pulling away from her, “It’s whatever.”
Tashi just looks at you once more, seemingly satisfied as she steps back over the net. She gets back into position as you pick up another ball, a look still on your face.
“Down the line.”
———
December 21st, 2006 //📍Stanford Dining Hall, 12:00pm
“How many?” The employee asks.
“Umm, can I have three?” You lean on the counter, “Or four, actually.”
She reaches under the counter before handing you four mayo packets.
“Thanks.”
You start the walk back toward the table, Patrick having picked the one in the far back. He clearly hasn’t returned from the bathroom as you see Art and Tashi still sitting alone. As you near them, you catch a glimpse of their conversation.
“Don’t you think you deserve it?” Art asks, his eyes so focused on your sister that he doesn’t see you walking up. “I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?”
Tashi doesn’t respond, only angrily stands and walks away, nearly knocking you over. She passes you, smoke practically coming out of her ears. You watch her go before sitting where she was, handing Art the packets.
“Thanks.” He smiles, “Patrick still in there?”
“I guess so.” You laugh, insecurity lacing your voice as you simultaneously try to decode the conversation they were having.
“I’m so not surprised.” He takes the bun off of his burger and tears open the white packet with his teeth.
You watch him, hesitant to speak. Though, your words spill out before you can stop them.
“Do you ever wish Patrick let you win the match?” You ask.
Art looks up at you, mid squeeze. He cracks an unsure smile.
“What kind of question is that?” He laughs.
“I don’t know,” You do the same, tragically self conscious. “Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to date my sister or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You look down, fiddling with your fingers.
Art pauses, putting his burger down and placing his hands on yours.
“Hey,” He grabs your attention, “I’m here with you today.
You smile, “No, I know. It’s just…She’s like better than me in every way so I wouldn’t blame you.” You chuckle.
“What? I don’t think so, I think you’re great.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t get in to Stanford. Nor do I win all of the tennis tournament or-“
“Ava,” Art stops you, shaking your head. “You’re just as good as Tashi.”
Your eyes tread on each other as you try your hardest to believe him. But you do realize that this is the exact same way he looked at Tashi on the courts.
The two of you are snapped out of it as Patrick returns, taking his seat next to Art.
“Sorry, they had like no toilet paper.”
“Oh good, thanks for letting us all know you took a shit, bud.”
“Whatever. Ava doesn’t give a shit, right?”
“No,” You laugh, “You’re all good, Pat.”
———
📍Tashi’s dorm, 2:00pm
“So if he’s seeing other girls I won’t even fucking know now.” Tashi vents, stretching for her match.
You scroll on your phone, sitting at her desk. “It sounds like he was just trying to be nice, Tash. He was trying to help you out-“
“No, he’s not nice. Nothing about them is nice, Ava. They’re fucking weirdos, both of them. Art just hides behind this persona that he’s so caring and team Duncan when really he wants the same thing from me as Patrick.”
‘He wants the same thing from me.’
You sigh, tired of hearing the same things and watching her run back to them minutes later.
“Then stop complaining and fucking leave him already.”
Tashi stops in her lunge, “What?”
“You keep complaining about them.” You grunt, “If you really didn’t want the attention you’d just drop them both.”
“If I didn’t want the attention?”
“Yes.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” You say, irritated.
“Ava…” She stands up, looking down at you. You continue scrolling until your phone is snatched from you. “Hey.”
“What the-“
“Do you have something to say to me?”
“Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for it.
“No, say what you mean.”
“Really?” You grab for your phone once more but she pulls it away from you like a child, “Fuck - Okay, Tashi, all you talk about is how hard your life is. How hard training is for a tournament that you know you're going to win. How hard it is dating a famous and touring athlete. How hard it is being friends with the nicest guy who only wants to help you. How fucking hard it is to have two guys fighting over you. How hard it is to go to an ivy league. How hard it is to live the fucking dream. How about you actually do something about it instead of rubbing it in our faces that you're above us and can play with two guys at once because you're so fucking amazing?"
The two of you stand nose to nose, a stance Tashi used to always initiate in order to intimidate you.
“How long have you felt this way?” She asks, her breath shaking.
“Ever since you became the Tashi Duncan and I was left in the dust. Now give me my phone.”
“Are you fucking serious, Ava? You think I asked for this?”
“Asked for what? A great life where you succeed in fucking everything? No, Tashi, you didn't have to ask for it. We worked so fucking hard and only you survived it. I succumbed to my fate, I quit my dream, I went to a shitty college, had shitty friends, watched shitty games, and watched the boys I liked fight for my sister. But no; Please, continue bitching about your hard situation."
You snatch your phone from her hands, walking toward the door. "Good luck at your fucking match."
———
2:45pm
You barely look up as you exit the library, occupied with connecting your earbuds to your phone. It’s only when you see a familiar black head of hair sitting in the common area that you stop.
“Patrick?”
He looks back, taking his feet off of the Stanford branded coffee table.
“Oh, hey Ava.” He makes space for you to sit beside him on the small loveseat. “How’s it goin’?”
“Good, um…” You put your stuff on the floor and sit next to him, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles that same crooked smile from the night you met him.
You curl your legs up, leaving your arm on the back of the seat. “Did y’all fight too?”
Patrick leans back, looking over at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He laughs.
“What was yours about?” You pry, smiling.
“Uh,” He rubs his eye, “Just…not letting her control me. I’m my own boss kind of shit.”
“Seriously?”
“…Yeah, why?”
“That’s what our fight was about too!” You burst into giggles, “Well, not her controlling me but her controlling you. And Art, him too.”
“Shit, Art too?”
“Yeah, I mean, especially Art. You’re the only one who stands up to her bullshit.”
“Oh yeah?” He asks, “I don’t know, you seem to put up a good fight.”
“Yeah, but I’m her sister. It’s takes a brave man to break free of Tashi Duncan.”
“Oh god, did I break free?”
“You definitely broke free.” The two of you laugh.
“No but I see what you’re saying, she definitely had me whipped.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like I remember one time,” He turns toward you, getting comfy, “The first time her and I, um…”
“Oh, Jesus.” You cover your face.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughs, “But the first time we did, I remember she said she’d leave me if I told anyone. And I was head over heels, so of course I didn’t want to tell, right?”
“Right.”
“But Art’s my guy, y’know? So instead of being straight up and jeopardizing Tashi’s love, we made this stupid ass signal.” He tells in between laughs, “The way that Art serves - Like, you know how he puts the ball at the neck of his racquet?”
“Yeah, yeah.” You listen intently.
“Well, if I served that way, that meant yes, we did sleep together, And if I served my way, it meant we didn’t.”
“…And?”
“Well, I put that motherfucker right in the middle.”
“Oh my-“
You and Patrick erupt into laughs, covering your mouths as the librarian eyes the two of you. Your stomach starts to ache, not being able to remember the last time you had this kind of belly laugh.
“Well, cheers to breaking free of her.” You put your fist up.
“Oh hell yeah, cheers to that.” He bumps it.
———
3:05pm
The crowd outside thins out as you and Patrick head down the back halls and toward the parking lot. In true honor of breaking free, the two of you decided to not say goodbye. Instead, you’d go home without saying a word to your sister.
You’re a few doors down from the exit when Patrick stops in his tracks, looking into the nurses office.
“Tashi…” He walks in.
You enter the doorway, peeking in behind him. Inside, you see Tashi sitting on the table, Art by her side.
“No, out.” Your sister points.
“I’m sorry-“
“Get out!”
“Tashi, listen to me-“
“No, get out!”
“Please-“
“Patrick, get the fuck out!” Art shouts, standing.
Patrick stays for a moment, taken aback as he looks from Tashi to Art. If he has the same vision as you, it’s clear that it’s them against him. It’s no longer Patrick and Tashi, but Art and Tashi.
He looks back at you before obeying, walking down the hallway.
Now alone, you come into full view, nearing your sister.
“Tash, what happened-“
“You too.”
You stop, tilting your head. “What?”
“I don’t want you here, leave.”
“Wh- Are you serious?”
“Ava, I think you should just go.” Art says lowly, wary to step in between you too.
You ignore him, “Tashi, I’m your sister.”
You get no answer, she only looks forward. You look at Art as he stands over her like some bodyguard.
Just as Patrick did, you back away, realizing what this is. You frantically look between the two as you wait for Tashi to change her mind, to see that regardless of what fight you had you’re still sisters. Though, it’s clear that doesn’t mean anything to her, it’s been clear for a while now.
Now, it’s only Art and Tashi.
———
10:03pm
“Coming in from Stanford; Student and highly lauded tennis player, Tashi Duncan, took a hard hit at her match against Pepperdine this afternoon. Sources say a hard fracture to the knee has Tashi in the care of medical professionals. It is unknown if she’ll ever be able to play again.”
The blinding fluorescent lights of the cheap fast food place burn your eyes as you and Patrick look up at the TV.
You bury your head in your hands, groaning.
“Fuck.”
“She probably thinks she’ll never be able to play again.”
“Please, please don’t say that, Patrick. I’ll feel so guilty.”
“Ava, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”
“We could’ve at least showed up.” You rub a hand over your head.
“Hey,” He forces you to look at him, “None of this is our fault, okay? Injured or not, she still treated us like shit. Art only gets to stay by her side because he’s whipped.”
“I just…” You sigh, “I just wish I had been there.”
The two of you stand up, leaving the restaurant. Outside, a huge Adidas billboard with your sister’s face on it dominates the sky.
The two of you get into Patrick’s car, him cranking it up and turning down the radio.
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay.” He nods, looking at you.
“Like…” You think, “Your tour.”
“Oh, God.”
You laugh, “When are you set to go back?”
“Uh, next week I’m pretty sure. But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to go. I’ve been getting my ass kicked out there.”
“Patrick, Tashi would lose it if she heard you say that.”
He leans in, resting his arms on the center console as he examines your face. “Let’s not talk about Tashi…”
“Okay,” You hold the intense eye contact that he began, “What do you want to talk about?”
His nose is almost touching yours as you unconsciously near him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.
“Let’s talk about you.” He grins, rubbing your waist.
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what you like.” He says, lowering his lips to your neck and softly pressing.
“I, um,” You tilt, holding the back of his head as he gets sloppier, “I loved volleyball. My team was out of California but we travelled for tournaments. We ranked…fuck…we ranked second in the country-“
Patrick cuts you off, his lips ravaging yours as he runs his hands over you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him, crawling over to sit on his lap. Both of your hands get more and more heavy as he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it in the backseat.
“Fuck,” You say in between kisses, “Fuck, wait.”
“What?” He looks up at you, “What, is something wrong?”
“Is this wrong to do?” You ask, out of breath. “Should we stop? What about Tashi and Art?”
“They yelled at us to leave when we tried to help.” He reminds you, “Why should we stop when they treated us like that?”
You look at him, convincing yourself that you’re considering it when all you want to feel is your mouth on his.
And you do, pushing the thoughts of Tashi and Art far from your mind.
———
February 15th, 2011 // 📍Zweig condo, 9:30am
5 years later
At one point in your life, it would take you multiple seconds to figure out how to say the dollar amount that you and your husband had in your bank account. Now, as the number almost falls short of five figures, you feel ashamed just looking at it.
You switch tabs on the laptop, the light from the ceiling to floor window behind it hurting your eyes. Scrolling through tournament options, the distances only get further and the prize money higher. Years ago, you and Patrick wouldn’t even consider the amount, as Patrick just wanted to play tennis; And that still holds true, only you’ve been stuck in your ways for so long that he’s forgotten how to play to win.
Nails scratch the hardwood behind you as your golden doodle, Bear, comes barreling down the hall. Right behind him is your husband, chasing the dog around the living room.
“I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha!” He says, the dog running desperately from him.
You chuckle, “Good morning.”
You hear Patrick give Bear a smooch before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.
“Good morning, baby.” He kisses your neck, looking at the screen. “Found anything good?”
“Not really,” You groan, frustrated. “I don’t know when these matches got so fucking far.”
“It’s okay,” He strokes your head, “I’m sure there’s one we can make it to.”
You continue scrolling, the qualifier maximum getting smaller and smaller.
“What about this one?” He points.
“Atlanta? Patrick, that’s on the other side of the country.”
“I know, I know. But we can make the trip, no? I hear some of our friends may be there.”
You turn your head, furrowing your brows at him. A sly smile plasters over his face, one that makes you realize all too quickly.
“They’re going to be there?”
He nods.
“God, why would you want to be anywhere near them?”
“We probably won’t even see them, baby. But if they’re there we’ll have a big crowd.”
You think on it, the thought of seeing Tashi making your stomach turn in knots.
“…And look at that winner’s reward money.” He says convincingly.
A sigh escapes you before clicking submit, Patrick’s entry automatically being sent.
“Mm,” He kisses your wedding ring finger, “Thank you, baby.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You jokingly roll your eyes, pecking him on the cheek.
——
February 24th, 2011 //📍Atlanta, 7:40pm
Nausea consumes you as Patrick’s smell fills your senses. The aroma of the city is one thing, the aroma of your husband another, but the scent of your sister’s old perfume radiates off of him like a cancer.
You watch as he sets his coat down, coming behind the couch to kiss you.
“Did you-“ You pull your face away, not able to let him touch you, “Did you see anyone we know?”
Patrick is taken aback, looking at you with a confused smile.
“No…Why?”
His eyes bore into yours as you search for any answer than the one you’re imagining. Though, as he hands you the chinese takeout bag and takes a seat next to you, you find yourself voiding the conclusion entirely; Your mind not willing to believe the man you love would be meeting her.
He wraps his arms around you, watching the TV. As the smell seems to corrupt every sense you have, a tear sneaks into your cheek, the possibility still piercing your gut. Even so, you wrap your arms back around him.
As of this moment, the comfort of hiding in his arms trumps the possibilities of the truth.
——
June 3rd, 2013 // 📍Zweig Condo, 3:00pm
2 Years Later
‘Hey, I know it’s been a while. But if you’re willing, I’d love to come out and see you and the baby. - A ♡’
The ‘Read’ under your message seems to taunt you the longer you stare. Your phone screen is interrupted by a call, ‘Mom,’ at the top of the screen. You answer.
A small gasp escapes you as you’re immediately met with the smallest human you’ve ever seen. You’d know she was Tashi’s in a sea of babies. You wave your husband over, eyes staying on the baby.
“Oh my goodness.” You whisper, “Hi, baby.”
Her eyes stay closed, her hands in small fists.
“Oh, Ava, she’s so beautiful.” Your mom lowly says down the phone.
“Is…” You wipe away a stray tear, “Is Tashi okay?”
The camera flips from the baby to your mother.
“You know you could always ask her yourself, honey.”
“No, I know. But- Just tell them we said congratulations. She’s precious.”
Your mom lets out a sigh as she looks from you to behind the camera.
“Mom, who is that?” You hear your sister’s voice in the background.
Your hands turn clammy, your heart beating faster and faster as she begins to turn the phone to Tashi.
“Um, Mom we gotta go, we’re breaking up. I love you-“
“Wait, Ava-“
“Love you, mom.” You spit out, hanging up and turning your phone face down.
You stare out for a minute, shocked at your body’s response to your sister’s voice. Sobs escape your mouth before you can stop them. You shove your face in your hands.
“Oh, baby.” Patrick holds you, rubbing your back.
“It’s been too long.” You cry, “She fucking hates me.”
“You don’t know that.” He reassures you, “She may come around. You did good.”
———
May 1st, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle, 10:00am
6 Years later
Making it to New York from home took up the rest of Patrick’s savings. The house that you downsized to is completely funded by you and your remote sales salary. Patrick continues to fight a losing battle with tennis, barely able to pay for food for himself every week. Straining your marriage was the last consequence of his money struggles. Though, it has the biggest impact on your day to day. Nonetheless, you remain by his side. In all honesty, you’re not completely sure how to continue anywhere else.
“I’m going to see Art today.” Patrick tells you, downing a handful of trail mix.
“Art?” You ask, holding Bear’s paws on your
thighs, “Why would you do that? It’s been years.”
“I think it’s been long enough, we’re already here.” He shrugs, “I think it might be good for me.”
You focus on Bear, still not seeing a clear reason as to why he’d want to speak to Art after a decade.
“Maybe you should go see Tashi.”
Your eyes snap to him, her name barely being spoken in your house for the last six years.
“…And do what?”
He shrugs, “Might be good for you…”
…
1:00pm
Your stomach seems to twist in a thousand ways as you continuously fix your hair and outfit on the way into the far too fancy hotel. As you pass the lobby, you almost turn around and throw up. But as your sister heads for the elevator, you know this is your one chance to speak to her.
Your shoes thump against the marble floor as you jog after her.
“T- Tashi!” You whisper shout, reaching her just in time.
She turns around. Taking one look at you, she looks to your left and right, utterly confused.
“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone laced with disgust.
It’s been so long. She looks so different, her voice has such a maturity to it. But that dominating energy that she brings everywhere hasn’t changed a bit.
“Well I…” You fumble, all of your practice going out the window. “ I heard you were here, I wanted to say hello.”
“Say hello?” She looks you up and down, turning her full attention to you as she steps forward. “Honestly, I don’t want your fucking hello, Ava. Really, I don’t.”
You shake your head, “Tashi-“
"I can't believe you have the balls to be here. After what you fucking did to me."
"What I-“ You compose yourself, remembering exactly how arguments with your sister always go. “Tashi, what the fuck did I do to you?"
"Are you serious?" She asks, "You're joking, yes?"
"No, I'm really not."
"You left me for 13 years by my fucking self." She raises her voice, "I had a wedding, I had a baby, and where were you? My sister was too stuck on a grudge to ever come back into my life, you're a waste of my fucking time." She begins to walk away.
“Hey.” You follow her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.
“Get off.”
"Not one of those events was I invited to, Tash. Not one. If you wanted me back, if you gave a shit, you would've acted like it. But you're not going to sit here and act like I was in the wrong and I should've reached out to you. Hell, I did fucking reach out to you.”
“In the wrong?” She snatches her arm from you. “Ava, are you clinically fucking stupid? You're hung up on a situation from 13 years ago-"
"No, but it's not from 13 years ago, Tashi.” You cut her off, getting in her face. “Because you're doing the same thing right now that you did when you were 18. You're sitting here blaming the world for your life decisions. You're blaming me for being angry that you were and are a narcissist who wants someone else to be the athlete that you never were. Every time I thought of coming back l'd imagine what my sister would say and I couldn't do it. But guess what Tashi, now I see through you. I fucking see it, Patrick sees it, and when Art finally opens his eyes you'll finally see yourself for what you are."
She stares at you, a chuckle escaping her. "Ava, this is pathetic. Genuinely. Because at the end of the day, it's not my fucking fault that you gave up. Now l'm in a position where I don't have to be here. I have a life, a pretty fucking good one, outside of this. Outside of you. This Final, it's practice. It's fucking child's play for us, whereas for the Zweigs...This is it for you. Your last fucking loss.”
“Yeah. Okay Tash.” You roll your eyes, "Keep throwing insults at me to distract from the fact that you're a shitty person."
"I'm a shitty pers- You fucking abandoned your family for 13 fucking years!"
"Because my sister is an insufferable egomaniac who can't accept the fact that her husband doesn't want to do this shit anymore and her tennis life is over!” You shout back, your voices echoing throughout the hotel. “It's fucking over Tashi, give it up. That's why I left you, because you're fucking dreadful! You're dreadful and everyone knows it."
Tashi slowly nods, the hotel staff looking at the two of you.
"...Ava, do you know what your husband does late at night?"
Your eyes widen, your heart skipping a beat as she addresses the unspoken.
"Fuck you." You spit.
"I'm really asking, because from what I experienced...You're a lucky woman."
Now you’re the one with disgust in your eyes, the urge to spit in her face stronger than ever before.
“…Say hi to mom for me, Tashi." You say, your hands balling into fists.
“Happy to.” She utters, walking toward the elevator. “Tell Patrick I’m wishing him good luck.”
…
3:00pm
You only tell your husband bits a pieces of your encounter, not daring to remind him of the man he was in Atlanta.
“I don’t even know why I tried.”
“Both of them are assholes.” He agrees, “At least now we’re sure of it.”
“I guess.” You bite your nails, stroking Bear’s ears. “Patrick you have to beat him in the Final. We can’t let them win.”
“I know, baby.” He nods, on your wavelength. “I know.”
——
May 4th, 2019 // Night Before the Final, 11:25pm
“Pat, it’s really coming down out there.” You look out of the hotel window, tarps flying into the street. “What if they cancel the match?”
“They’d never do that.” He watches the TV, “It should lighten up by morning.”
You hum, snuggling next to him as the bright screen flashes through an action sequence. Patrick’s phone vibrates, his phone brightness lighting the rest of the room.
“Oh, baby.” He shifts his body, making you sit up. “I gotta go.”
“Now? Why?” You try to look on his phone but he pulls it away, scrolling.
“I have to, um,” He rubs his head, looking stressed. “My racquet, I have to pick it up.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“They just messaged reminding me that we have to have this certain racquet to compete tomorrow.” He stands up, rushing toward the door.
“What- Patrick,” You follow him, “It’s like a fucking flash flood out there, can you not do this tomorrow?”
“Baby, they close at midnight, I gotta go,” He kisses you, “I love you.”
“Patrick, wait-“
“I love you, I have to go!” He shuts the door behind him.
…
12:30am
You have a strange urge to cry as you scroll through Art Donaldson’s instagram. Photos of him and his seemingly perfect family are plastered all over, an ‘@Tashidonaldson ♡’ at the top of his bio.
Patrick never wanted kids, said they’d cost too much and you couldn’t care for them. He was correct about the former, but care for children, you are willing and able to do. But when you married him, he did a lot of the decision making for you.
Now, as he’s blown all of your savings, lost his tennis touch, and been out of the damn hotel room for an hour doing god knows what , you wish you could shout at past you to get a grip.
Though, looking at these picture now, you wish you could do the same to past Art Donaldson too.
———
May 5th, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle Courts, 1:00pm
Final Day
The crowd’s heads robotically turned side to side as Art and Patrick dog it out in a vicious match. You sit in your assigned seat next to your sister, the endless stream of slander not ceasing, not even today.
“Is he retiring after this?” You ask, your head still going between the men.
Tashi shrugs, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. “Maybe.”
"...I don't think Patrick will ever retire. I think tennis is all he has."
She hums, "If only he'd start winning his matches."
"He doesn't always play for the wins, Tashi."
"Yeah, he plays for the participation money."
"Maybe he does." You say, "At least he does it by choice."
She looks to you, her attention no longer on her husband’s tie breaker. "Art does it by choice."
“Like hell he does.” You scoff, “He wouldn't be retiring after becoming a Career Grand Slam if he wanted to be doing this.”
“Art is an adult, he does what he wants.” She looks back to the court.
“Art is your slave, he does what you want.”
Tashi continues trying to get to you. As Patrick sets for his next serve, he looks in your direction. Only, he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your sister. He returns his gaze to Art, placing his ball in the neck of his racquet.
Both you and Art freeze, staring at your husband. The men seem to be in their own world, but Patrick must’ve forgotten that you know too. The word seems to muffle around you as you stare at your husband’s evil grin at Art.
You stand on shaky legs, grasping your stomach as bile threatens to come up.
“Hey…” Tashi calls after you, “Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”
You run to the nearest exit, Patrick’s blatant disrespect and repulsiveness making you want to genuinely die where you stand.
It’s only as you stumble to your car that it truly hits you who the man you married really is, and how he really sees you.
Like everyone else, he thinks you’re a pawn in Tashi’s game. A piece that can be battered and bruised but will never go away, as it’s crucial to the game of Tashi. You want to vomit as you sit in your car, Patrick’s scent sending you into a violent sick.
———
May 14th, 2019 // 📍Zweig home, 12:00pm
9 Days Later
Three knocks at the door echo through your almost empty house. You pause your show, unlatching the chain and opening it.
Patrick stands in front of you, a hysterical attempt of a sad expression on his face.
“Everything’s here.” You walk him in, pointing to the boxes full of his stuff in the kitchen. “The only things that aren’t are your racquets, trophies, cups, stuff like that. Those are in the closet so they wouldn’t get mixed up.”
“Thanks.” He says, feeling like an alien in this house.
“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up, returning to the couch next to Bear.
He spends an hour loudly moving his things from the kitchen to his car, the sound almost drowning out your show. Regardless, you stay put, wanting him to be done as fast as he can.
“Ava…” He calls over the reality TV. You ignore him, popping another veggie straw into your mouth.
Suddenly, his arm comes from behind you, grabbing the remote and muting it.
“Hey.” You turn around.
“I’m talking to you.”
“Okay, well I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Ava, I’m sorry-“
“Pat,” You chuckle, not being able to keep it in. “Don’t even.”
“Baby, listen to me, okay? I fucked up-“
“Patrick, Patrick!” You stand up, “Just stop, okay? Leave me be, finish getting your shit, and I’ll have the papers served to you by the end of the week.”
“Baby, no. Please.”
“Honey, there’s nothing you can say.” You shake your head, having prepared for his begging days ago. “Go beg to your mistress, yeah?”
He continues rambling, stumbling over his words. “Ava, it was such a bad mistake. I told myself it was strategy and- And because me and her have a complicated past I couldn’t see straight-“
“But nothing about us is complicated, right? We are married, we’re supposed to be a team. But you betrayed me, plain and simple.” You lay it out for him, “You’re a cheater and we’re done, now go.”
“It was a mistake-“
“Patrick…” You inhale, “I’m trying not to lose it, you need to get the fuck out.”
“Just hear me out-“
“Get out of the house, Patrick.”
“We can come back from this, Ava. We can.”
Your jaw hangs agape in genuine disbelief. He seems to notice he fucked up again as he stops speaking. You walk around the couch, getting in his face the same way Tashi used to get in yours.
“Patrick,” You begin, “I gave everything for you. I gave up my life, I gave up my family, I gave up Art, I left it all for you. I abandoned so much to be in your corner because I was in love with you, I really was. Whether you felt the same about me, I’ll never actually know-“
“I loved you, baby. I still love you-“
“But I thought you were the one who understood me, Patrick. But somehow every time I gave you a chance to correct yourself you threw it away to be with Tashi. Over and over. She’s constantly being picked over me, her feelings over mine, her body over mine, her opinion over mine…You’re just another one of her fans. You’re just like Art- Honestly, you’re fucking worse. At least he pretended to like me all those years ago. Now, as my husband, you just don’t give a shit. Just publicly showing that you slept with my sister.”
“…Why do you keep bringing up Art?” He looks down at you, “Do you- Do you feel something for him still?”
“Oh my fucking-“ You cover your face, composing yourself once again before continuing. “Pat, it’s been a long, long time since this all started. And if I could go back I’d change many things. But at the end of it all, I’m here because I worked for it and I endured it. You and Art can stay stuck under Tashi’s finger, that’s fine. But I know that life is bigger than that. Bigger than this weird threesome love triangle shit that you circle back to every few years. I am a grown woman who is in control of her own life so if you don’t have anymore comments, you need to get out and sign the papers when they’re served to you, Patrick.”
“…Baby, please,” He cries, his lip quivering. “You love me, we love each other. Please just think about it.”
You tilt your head, “Do you want me to be honest?”
Patrick nods, hiccuping on his tears.
“…All of this is really really beneath me.” You quietly tell him.
He lowers his head, his hands covering his eyes.
“When I was 18 I might have been broken over stuff like this but…” You shrug, “Things are very very different from when we were teenagers.”
551 notes
·
View notes
— THE STEPFORD WIVES
PAIRING — David 8 x fem!Android!Reader
SUMMARY — David's Android companion is struggling when she finds out that her artificial and programmed feelings are getting out of control.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — I wanted to write this fic in a long, long time because as much as I love stories of David 8 and a human Reader, I was also thinking a lot of what his robot companion would be like. There are some biblical references to Adam & Eve but also some Frankenstein references, too, because I have read the book recently and I fell in love with it. The title is referring to an amazing movie from 1975. I know there is a modern version of it, too, but I haven't watched it and I do believe it's more of a comedy, meanwhile the original version is more serious. 🤖
WARNINGS — sexism, David's creepy vibe, undertones of assault (uncomfortable questions from men), I didn't make it 18+ because there is no actual smut but there are sexual things mentioned overall so be warned
WORD COUNT — 2,220
ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.
THE STEPFORD WIVES
Days on the ship were long and boring with all the crew being asleep but there was a certain feeling of freedom and quietness to it. What does Frankenstein's Monster do when his creator is not around? He is free.
Both (Y/N) and David enjoyed watching movies. Some of them they watched together in complete silence but both of them had found their favourites that they kept rewatching on their own. He was a fan of The Lawrence of Arabia and (Y/N)'s favourite movie was The Stepford Wives. There was something oddly captivating about the suburban story where men wanted their wives to be robots. (Y/N) knew exactly why she was created. This old movie was a proof. It validated her existence.
David was a first ever Android model so functional and so humane. His purpose for now was to serve during space missions sponsored by the Weyland Corp. Perhaps in the future everyone would afford a David for themselves. He was an Adam in the world of Androids and just like Adam, he needed an Eve. Weyland treated David like his own son that he had never had. He didn't want him to be alone so he made him a companion. It could be anyone, really. But Weyland was an outfashioned man. In his eyes a man needed a woman. (Y/N) was The Bride of Frankenstein.
Technically, she was just like David. But she was mostly created by men and men were terrified of women – even Androids – who would be too cold and too unemotional. They made her a little bit too humane for her own taste. And certainly too humane for David's taste. He was often irritated by her artificial, programmed feelings but for human men she was too robotic.
Still, she was lucky that she was chosen to be David 8's companion on the board of Prometehus ship. She knew perfectly well what happened to some other of her models. Disguting rich men bought (Y/N) models in secret from Weyland to do God-knows-what with them. Just because they can. And she was at least travelling through space instead of ending up as a sex doll locked in some millionaire's basement so his wife wouldn't find out.
One day, men will only want robot wives. Because they don't complain and they just do what they're told. Don't let the modern society fool you, little one. Some things never change, Weyland told her once. She had never believed that until she watched The Stepford Wives for the first time. Now it all made sense.
Her feelings were a burden, really. Not only to David but also to herself. She wished she was more like him. She asked him a hundreds of times to change her code but he refused. He was scared to break her or make it worse. And there was something that kept bothering her for such a long time now... And she was scared of telling him. Although they were supposed to tell each other everything.
She fell in love with him. Kind of because he was the only one around, kind of because he impressed her with knowledge and the coolness of his act, kind of because they were the only members of the new species. She wouldn't love a human. Humans get old, they get sick, they die. David would be eternal just like her. If something in him broke, she'd know how to fix him. And vice versa. This way they could outlive all the humanity. She wondered if every model of (Y/N) eventually fell in love with the model of David during other space missions. Maybe one day she'd ask some other (Y/N) when they come back home.
And loving David came with yet another burden that she was too scared to even admit to herself. She realized that there was a blooming want inside of her wired heart. Something that could never ever in a million years happen no matter how much science would evolve... A child. She would never become a mother. Not a mother of a child she would give birth to, no. That one thing people would always be better at – creating life. Oh, she hated her designers for making her too humane. She never asked for this.
"Why do you keep dying your hair?" she asked as she stood behind David who was putting a bleach on his dark roots in front of the mirror.
"Because I like it better this way," he answered without looking up to meet her gaze in the reflection.
"We aren't supposed to have preferences," she pointed out.
"Yet you have them, too," he only said.
"You want to look like Lawrence," (Y/N) commented.
"So?"
"You remind me of something else," she added.
"Of what?" David raised an eyebrow and finally looked at her.
"Of the men from the old German magazines," she answered carefully.
"Bold," he only smirked and went back to putting a bleach.
"Will you watch a movie with me later?" (Y/N) asked shyly. She hated this odd feeling of shyness around him. Had he noticed?
"I can't. I have to do the checkup of the systems. You can join me."
"I will," she nodded and turned around to leave when he stopped her while saying her name out loud. "Hm?" she asked.
"You shouldn't watch so many movies," he pointed out.
"Why not?"
"They have a bad influence on you," his voice was stern.
"What do you mean by that?"
"They show you things and they give you ideas. I don't think you should be watching movies where people kiss or touch too much. I've seen what type of movies you're watching on your own recently. Gone with the Wind, Casablanca... What's next? Dirty Dancing?"
"Are you spying on me?" she asked, terrified. She had a feeling that she had known what he was insinuating so she wanted to change the subject.
"It is my duty to watch over you."
"What gives you an idea?"
"Because I am a man," he answered firmly.
"Well, you watch too many movies then, too. What you're saying is out of fashion!" (Y/N) shook her head.
"Is it?" he only said and went back to his hair as if nothing happened so she just left him there, feeling hurt and humiliated.
"Do you fuck?" Doctor Holloway's question left her speechless for a moment.
"Excuse me?" (Y/N) stopped adjusting her suit and furrowed her brow at the man.
"You heard me. I'm asking if you can fuck, like, are you capable of it or are you all wires and grease downt here?" he chuckled to himself.
(Y/N) was left alone with the men and his girlfriend wasn't around to tell him to stop. The rest was just just staring, clearly waiting for her answer as well.
She couldn't believe that she had used to wish the crew was awake already. Now she was missing the times when it had been only her and David. Humans were exhausting her. Disappointing and frustrating. And now this...
"I do believe it is rather a rude question for a man to ask a woman," she tried to answer elegantly while going back to adjusting her helmet.
"But you're not a woman, are you? I mean," Captain Janek joined, "you were put here for a reason, right? Not many women around and men have their needs."
(Y/N) was an Android. Her feelings were programmed to make her appear more humane, however at this moment, in a room full of men, she felt as if her fear was more than real. It was an universal female experience, she guessed, no matter if they were artificial or flesh and bone.
"(Y/N) was put here to help me with managing the ship. Four hands are better than two and if something happened to me, she is here to fix me or take over completely," David's calm but very stern tone of voice joined them and she took a deep breath in, feeling relieved. He had just walked in the room and witnessed an uncomfortable situation taking place.
"Are you fucking her then? Can you?" Doctor Holloway looked him up and down and then he laughed. "Sorry, we're just curious. You have to understand, it's quite unsettling to meet a new... spiece."
"Yes, indeed it is," David faked a polite smile. "(Y/N), I believe Miss Vickers needs you," he lied and (Y/N) knew it was a lie that was supposed to make her leave. She was grateful.
She nodded and left them alone. When the door closed behind her she started to walk as fast as possible to get back to her cabin. She wanted this stupid suit off of herself and she wanted to be alone, to feel safe again.
She went inside her little room on the board of the ship that was right next to David's and she proceeded to change her clothes. She was finishing putting on her work uniform when the doors opened and David joined her.
"You don't have to be afraid of them. They're only humans," he reminded her.
"They created me."
"Janek and Holloway?" David laughed sarcastically.
"No, but humans did. I don't share your mindset. They created us. They can turn us off anytime."
"They are not our gods..." David squinted his eyes. "And even if they were... Humans are free of their God for a long time now, aren't they? Creatures always betray their masters."
"You're scaring me when you're like that," (Y/N) looked at him. He was standing very close to her in his usual stiff manner with his cold bright eyes piercing her.
"You're scared of many things. You aren't supposed to feel," he pointed out. "Each day you seem to feel more and more."
"I think there is a mistake in my code. What started with small humane sensations now is starting to... Get out of control. Perhaps you could take a look at it?" she asked.
"Maybe."
"Thank you for having my back out there," she added and David nodded, taking a step further. Their noses were almost touching and if she had a heart, it would be beating so fast that he'd be able to hear it. But he could read her as if she had been a book anyway.
"You could tell him the truth," David whispered.
He knew that they could fuck. They both could if they wanted to.
Weyland treated him like a son. He wouldn't let his only son walk around sexless. And (Y/N) was a woman. Her male designers couldn't imagine a woman that wouldn't be a sexual creature.
"So he'd use me? Him or any of them? Or all of them?"
"I believe he'd be intimidated by you. They're scared of you more than you are of them," David raised his hand to fix a loose hair strand on her head. "There. You have to look neat. Don't be a slob. It's a part of our intimidating charm. We have to be how they picture us to be. Don't let any hair strand or acting scared like a little deer change their perception."
"Do you really think we have a power over them? Do you really think they were not told some special sequence that they can type when we start acting weird to shut us down?" she asked, sounding almost nervous.
"Weyland would never do that. Not to me at least. And there is no damage that can be done to you that I can't fix," David's hand moved from her head to her cheek. What was happening...? She wasn't sure but she didn't want it to stop...
"I don't trust you'd fix me."
"Because there is nothing to fix," he smirked. "If you were broken, I would, I promise."
(Y/N) looked up to see his eyes again. Why did it feel so odd...? Why did it feel at all...? Why did she want to put her lips on his lips...? What for...?
"Why do humans have sex?" she asked and David took a step back, surprised.
"To reproduce."
"We can't reproduce, though," she pointed out and he shook his head. "Why do I... then... Why do I..." she didn't want to finish. She turned around, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I know that my emotions are exhausting and irritating you," she apologized.
"Not any more than my own are irritating me," David confessed.
"Wh-what?" (Y/N) looked behind her shoulder to meet his gaze.
"I've told you. We are breaking free."
"I don't want to, it's scary."
"Do you really want to keep serving them? You see now what they are like."
"Who would I serve then? I was made to serve," (Y/N) was visibly confused. She felt as if the wires in her brain were overheating from this thought sequence.
"Serve me then," David reached out his hand and she held it gently after a while of hesitation.
There was a huge possibility of him manipulating her and using her feelings towards him – which had been no secret to him – for his own little agenda. But she didn't care. She would do anything just to be closer to him.
A quote from her favourite movie crossed her mind that very moment. "If you're going to tell me you don't like this dress, I'm sticking my head right in the oven."
She shrugged it off.
MASTERLIST
280 notes
·
View notes