#he goes from a punk to being a responsible man and i love it every time i acknowledge it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pollenallergie · 1 year

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Hello!! Can I request for a Billy Knight smut please? One where he has struggled to show affection and now that he's getting better he wants to touch you all the time. You'd let him, and one day when you're out of the shower and watching TV he randomly says that he wants to explore every part of you and you happily oblige because you love him. Please and thank you

of course!! thank you so much for this request!! sorry it's taken me so long to reply to it, but, well... i may have gone a lil overboard with my response. oopsies. also, i took quite a few creative liberties with this one, but i hope you still like it!!! <3

thank you so, so much to @hahahafucku and @punk-in-docs for beta-reading this!!! you're the best!!! <3

CW: pretty much just fluffy smut and some swearing, female ejaculation (squirting), billy gives the reader a massage (idk if anyone would find that triggering, but i'll include it just in case), the reader's gender is not specified but they do have stereotypically-female anatomy (boobs and a vagina…. dw i don’t call them that in the fic).

Word Count: about 8.8k

18+ only!!

side note: this is my first time writing smut in a longggg time, so pls be gentle lol

The evening starts like any other. You’re huddled up on the sofa, still in your work clothes, watching a nature documentary, images of seal pups adorably paddling about in the arctic waters flashing on the telly. At the same time, your boyfriend, Billy, is in the other room, changing into comfy clothes, having just gotten out of the shower mere moments ago. You figure you should probably have a shower as well now that he’s done, but you find it hard to leave your cosy spot on the sofa. It’s one of those nights where departing from the warm, cushiony furniture seems to be the most challenging feat known to man.

Just as you’ve begun to summon the motivation to leave your comfy seat and fascinating documentary behind, your partner suddenly emerges from your shared bedroom wearing his favourite jumper and a pair of joggers. Billy wastes no time joining you on the sofa, immediately plopping down next to you and snuggling close. He curls his limbs round you like a vine as he clings to you and nuzzles his head into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The feeling of his cold, wettish hair against your otherwise warm skin sends a shiver up your spine. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to complain, not when he’s so openly showering you with affection, something he struggled to do early on in your relationship.

“Hey, Kill Bill,” you say, fondly giggling at his antics. Billy snorts at the eccentric moniker.

“Hi, lovey,” he greets you in return.

“You alright?” You ask, amusement evident in your tone, as he clings onto you tightly and nuzzles into you, clearly needing to be impossibly closer to you.

“Missed you today,” he whines petulantly, pouting as if you haven’t been home for hours now. He even goes so far as to briefly remove his face from its hiding spot to flash you an adorable pout.

“I missed you too, handsome,” You admit, your tone tinted with amusement as you rake a hand through his soft, damp hair. The feeling of your fingers toying with his strands causes him to purr as he leans down to rest his head on your chest.

“How was work?” Billy asks as he idly toys with the buttons on your blouse, always needing something to do with his hands.

You heave out a massive, dramatic sigh, your chest deflating with the force of it, as you fix him with a pout of your own and pitifully reply, “Was absolutely exhausting, bub.”

“Yeah?” He asks, looking up at you with his big, brown doe eyes. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you after such a long day, but you think you can spot a little hopeful gleam in his gaze.

“Yeah, my neck and shoulders are killing me from being hunched over at my desk all day,” you complain, shamelessly fishing for your boyfriend’s sympathetic affection.

He offers a mere hum of acknowledgment as he nudges the collar of your blouse to the side so that he can place a warm, chaste kiss on the spot where your neck slopes down into your shoulder. “Think I know what could help with that,” Billy confesses softly, his tone hushed but, surprisingly, not the least bit bashful.

“Yeah?” You ask, your breath catching in your throat as he trails kisses up towards your jaw, each kiss sloppier than the last. “What might that be?”

“Y’could let me touch you,” he huskily replies whilst continuing to smatter kisses across your flesh, “let me take care of you,” he adds finally, whispering the words into your ear before nuzzling his face back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

As incredibly enticing as that sounds, you’re a bit insecure about letting him pamper you in this state; still slightly sweaty from your walk home and completely knackered from a long day at work. You sigh and reluctantly tell him, “I can’t, babe, not right now. I’ve gotta shower.”

Billy, however, seems entirely undeterred, continuing to lavish your neck with passionate kisses as he hoarsely replies, “Y’smell alright to me,” he then loudly, and a bit dramatically, sniffs you, as if proving his point, which causes you to let out an amused huff.

Billy then pulls away to face you, fixing you with the softest, sweetest smile and the most adoring gaze you’ve ever seen. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose and murmurs, “I’ll help you shower when we’re done. Please, let me make you feel good, baby. Want to touch every part of my pretty petal.”

The way he says that, with more than a hint of yearning, makes it seem like he intends to explore you, and the way his hands begin to roam your body seems to confirm your assumption. And, just like that, he’s won you over completely. You find yourself easily, willingly giving into your mutual desires once again. Though, you never really stood much of a chance at actually refusing him; you love and trust him too much to do anything but spoil him, especially since he has a habit of spoiling you too.

You rake your hands through his damp hair again, gently scratching his scalp in a way that never fails to make him melt, inadvertently encouraging his amorous, wandering touches whilst you blissfully sigh, “Promise?”

Billy pulls away from your neck and meets your gaze, smiling softly, and nods his head in confirmation. He then stands abruptly, catching you off guard, before holding his hands out and smiling warmly at you, “C’mon, petal. Let me take care of you.”

You look up at him with a playful pout and sigh, “I have to get up?”

He nods, his soft smile widening into an amused grin, before leaning down to kiss your cheek and whisper into your ear, “I’ll make it worth your while.” You feel a shiver up your spine at that honest promise and, not trusting your own voice, you opt for simply reaching out to gently grasp his outstretched hands with your own in response.

Mere moments later, you find yourself sprawled out on your bed, lying on your back, completely naked, with your head resting in your boyfriend’s lap. Whether it was out of solidarity or simply to tease you, Billy has stripped off his clothes as well, enabling you to feel his stiffening cock pressing against the back of your head. Though, he makes no move to relieve himself, simply content with massaging your scalp as he looks down at you lovingly.

“Close your eyes, darling,” he requests softly, as he moves his hands down to gently rub your temples, relieving the dull ache that’s formed there as a result of you unintentionally clenching your jaw throughout the workday. You sigh blissfully as you oblige, your eyes effortlessly fluttering shut. You feel your weight sink further into the plush mattress as Billy begins to massage your sore masseter muscles, relaxing you even further.

“Feels good, love?” He asks, his tone soft and sweet. You opt for simply nodding wordlessly, too blissed out to respond verbally, making him chuckle breathily.

Once your overworked cheek muscles have gone pliant and relaxed, Billy reaches for the massage oil, applying some to his hands. The massage oil took you by surprise when he first pulled it out of the top drawer in his nightstand, as you were previously unaware that he’d purchased it. The unbroken seal told you it was likely a recent purchase. The emboldened text reading ‘100% edible’ on the label revealed that his thoughts might not have been all that innocent when he bought it. Upon seeing the suggestive text, your mind began to conjure up lewd images of him licking the thin oil off various parts of your body, sending a rush of slick desire between your folds. That wetness now smears along the inside of your thighs as you clench them together, desperate for some relief.

The massage oil smells vaguely earthy in a way that only enhances your relaxation as he moves his hands down to gently work the muscles in your neck and shoulders, eliciting another sigh from you, this one bordering on a moan and making his cock twitch beneath you. It’s oddly comforting to know that your suffering is mutual, that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him.

Although, he seems relatively content to prolong your shared suffering as he moves on from your loosened neck and shoulder muscles, reaching down to gently grasp your dominant hand in both of his as he begins massaging the strained muscles there. You sigh in a way that betrays your mounting frustration, causing him to emit another breathy chuckle.

“Be patient, petal,” he chides you gently, his tone a perfect mixture of amusement and fondness.

“You said you wanted to touch me,” you huff.

“I am touching you,” he softly replies whilst releasing one hand to massage the other. His response has you opening your eyes briefly to fix him with a half-hearted glare.

“Let me take my time with you, please,” he pleads, as if he’s not the one in control here.

“Alright,” you readily concede as he releases your other hand.

Billy then begins to massage your arms, with his nimble hands working the muscles in each of them, starting at your wrists and gradually working up to your shoulders. You sigh contentedly as he effortlessly moves his oil-slick hands down to your chest; however, your tone soon gains a slightly exasperated edge when he pauses to sweetly ask, “May I touch you here, love?”

You usually appreciate that Billy always takes the time to ask you for your permission, that he constantly checks in with you to make sure you’re alright. However, right now, your impatient and incessant yearning makes it hard not to get annoyed with his constant pausing.

“Billy, please,” you whine desperately, “you can touch me anywhere, everywhere; just please touch me.”

Billy gulps around the lump forming in his throat due to your beautiful begging and swiftly succumbs to your pleading, gently grasping and kneading your breasts, finally offering you some relief. You moan softly when he briefly pauses his ministrations to toy with the stiff peaks of your nipples. As if they have a mind of their own, your thighs relax and fall apart as your hips buck upwards, desperately seeking friction. The cool air hitting your slick-covered folds makes you shiver. The subtle movement only makes the sight before Billy more enticing for him. He can’t help but let out a guttural groan at the sight of you all spread out and desperate for him, your hips bucking up needily, exposing more of yourself to him. Your eyes flutter open once more at the sweet sound, and you look up to find him staring at your sex, transfixed by the way your wetness glimmers in the dim light of the lamps on your nightstands.

“Billy,” you call out softly. He looks down at you with wide eyes, his pupils blown out by lust, almost entirely overtaking his rich, chocolate-coloured irises. “Kiss me,” you plead, and, with urgency, he shifts slightly to a more comfortable position before leaning down to press his lips to yours. The kiss starts simple and sweet but soon devolves into something much more sloppy and desperate, with you both moaning into it softly. Despite getting readily swept up in the passion of the kiss, Billy doesn’t let it distract from his ultimate goal of making you feel good, continuing to knead the pliant fat of your tits all the while.

“Please,” you whisper in between kisses.

Although it’s only a single word, Billy knows precisely what you’re asking for and finds himself unable to deny you any further, not that he was ever really trying to in the first place. His hands slowly slip down your abdomen toward where you need his touch most. You shiver with delight as he rubs his hands down the length of your pussy before slowly dragging them back up, kneading the puffy lips that surround your folds and gently pushing them together, putting subtle, indirect pressure on your clit as he glides his hands upwards to your mound whilst maintaining his kneading strokes.

The whine you let out in response is purely sinful, and the sound of it has him yearning to completely give in to you. Billy can only content himself to massage your sex for so long before he becomes powerless to stop himself from giving you what you desire most. You both blissfully sigh as he runs the tips of his right hand’s two middle fingers up your slit, collecting the wetness there. Billy then spreads your slick around your clit as he uses those same fingertips to rub tight circles on your tumescent bud, finally providing you with the stimulation you’ve been craving ever since he began trailing kisses on your neck whilst the two of you were cuddled up on the sofa. The swirling pressure on your clit has your hips jerking as you briefly break the kiss to let out a wanton moan.

“Fuck, Billy,” you whimper needily as you roll your hips, grinding up into his gentle but firm touch.

“You’re so good to me, love,” he whines breathlessly. The statement itself is sort of paradoxical, given that he’s the one pleasuring you; however, in your current blissed-out state, you fail to note the irony.

As you roll and swivel your hips slowly, increasing the pressure on your clit, your pleasure suddenly increases tenfold when Billy begins using his free hand to lavish your tits with attention, alternating between kneading the fat and toying with the nipples of each one.

“Love you, Billy,” you moan softly as you shift your gaze to look up at him in awe, finding him already gazing down at you with a look of profound adoration, the perfect mixture of reverence and affection. In Billy’s eyes, you are — and always have been — as close to a deity as a person can get, your grace rivaling that of even the most revered saints, prophets, and shamans, the compassion you show him outweighing that of anyone he’s ever known, even on your worst days. However, at this moment, with the way you’re calling out to him and baring yourself so vulnerably, your divinity becomes even more evident than before. And, if the sparkle in your eyes is any indication, Billy suspects that his adoration is amply reciprocated; the mere idea of that has a rosy blush spreading across the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks.

“I love you too, baby, so much,” he softly replies whilst smoothing the hand that was previously teasing your breasts — his left hand — back down your torso, using the pads of his fingers to tease your folds once his hand reaches its desired destination. Meanwhile, the two middle fingers of his right hand pick up their pace, their pads swirling round your clit more swiftly than before. However, the pressure they’re applying to the engorged bud never wanes.

Your moans grow louder and higher in pitch, conveying your neediness. Billy knows you need more, and he’s more than happy to give it to you. He teases your entrance with the tips of his left hand’s fingers before easing the middle one inside, causing you to mewl wantonly as your hips lift off the bed, forcing his thick finger deeper inside your wet heat. You reach up and grip his thighs, sure to leave behind the indents of your nails as you desperately cling to him, though Billy doesn’t really mind. The sharp pain of your nails digging into his pale skin provides him with a much stronger sensation than the pressure of your head still resting gently on his stiffening cock, allowing him to focus on that more intense sensation rather than the heavenly one in his lap. Billy then eases his ring finger in as well, curling both fingers just slightly so he can reach that magical place inside you — that special spot that never fails to make you cry out in pleasure — whilst he begins to thrust his fingers. At first, Billy sets a slow pace, wanting to ease you into your release, but his carnal desire to see you completely unravel soon takes over, leading him to work up to a pace that matches how he rubs your clit; fast and hard.

Feeling the tips of his fingers stimulating your two most sensitive points, the internal and the external, has the coil in the pit of your belly wound tight, nearly ready to snap, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it. You opt to show your appreciation by turning your head to the side to press warm, wet kisses to the inside of one of Billy’s thighs, making his breath hitch in turn.

“Love you so much, Billy. ‘M so close,” you babble mindlessly in between kisses.

“I know, baby. Can feel you squeezing me,” he moans softly, the sound bordering on a whine, as he leans forward to press sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks, “doing so good, love. Just need you to let go, baby. Please? Need you to cum f’me, yeah?”

You can only manage to nod in response, no longer able to get the words out as your pleasure mounts to impossible heights. Your whole body thrums with pleasure, muscles spasming and legs shaking as your climax nears. The sounds you’re making are truly divine, so melodic and alluring that they have poor Billy nearing his own release. He’s moments away from cumming in your pretty hair just from the sounds you’re making and the gentle pressure of your head resting on his crotch. Wanting to make you cum before he does, he begins to fuck his fingers into you with increased fervour, all whilst trying desperately to refrain from grinding his stubborn, needy cock against the back of your head.

“Let go, petal. Cum for me,” Billy says, attempting to encourage you, though his voice can barely be heard over your loud, lewd moaning. His encouragement seems to work, nevertheless, as your back arches off the bed and the coil in your belly finally succumbs to the pressure and snaps, a rush of slick oozing out of your weeping hole when you cum. Billy works you through your orgasm deftly, prolonging your pleasure until you finally go limp, whimpering from overstimulation.

As you descend from what seem to be clouds, from how high you felt, Billy continues to pamper and take care of you. He eases out from under you, gently placing a pillow under your head to compensate for the absence of his lap before moving down to slot himself between your legs. Billy applies some more massage oil to his hands before carefully grabbing one of your legs — still shaking and twitching from your forceful release — and lifting it to rest on his shoulder. He then begins to skillfully massage the overworked muscles of your calf, still sore from your walk home hours ago. The sensation of him gently kneading the knots out of your muscles has you moaning softly, and Billy melts at the sound. He deftly eases his slick hands up to your thigh, massaging the muscles there until they go lax under his touch, then moving down to rub the achy sole of your foot. The moan you let out at the feeling of his thumbs gently but firmly digging into the arch of your foot is nothing short of sinful. It has Billy’s stubborn cock throbbing, yearning for friction, for release. However, he refuses to succumb to temptation, too determined to see this through, to completely and properly care for his overworked, fatigued darling. If you were in your right mind, you might admire Billy’s surprisingly strong willpower, but you’re too far gone to notice anything other than the feeling of his hands on your skin and the loving look in his eyes.

Gently, Billy returns your leg to its resting position, swapping it out for the other one so he can also knead the strained muscles there. Once again, he begins at your calf, easing the aches, before moving on to your quivering thigh muscles. Finally, he massages the sole of your other foot, firmly working out the knots there. Once your muscles have relaxed completely, he presses a chaste, warm kiss to both the arch of your foot and the spot underneath your ankle bone before gently setting your leg back down onto the mattress.

“You alright, love?” He asks softly as he leans forward to smatter kisses across your chest, occasionally pausing to lap at your oil-slicked breasts.

“Mhm,” you hum, “Yeah, ’m alright,” you reassure him with a blissful sigh whilst you reach down to toy with his slightly damp locks.

“Was that good?” He questions somewhat bashfully.

You hum your confirmation before responding verbally, “Was wonderful. You did so well, angel, made me feel so good.”

“Think you can roll over for me so I can get your back?” Billy inquires whilst pausing his ministrations to look up at you adoringly.

“Billy, you don’t have to,” you trail off, feeling slightly guilty about how much he’s doting on you.

“I know,” he replies simply as he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, “Just want to.”

“You’re far too good to me, baby,” you sigh dreamily.

“Nah, ’m not. You deserve the whole world, dove. ‘M just giving you what I can,” he says sweetly whilst flashing you a kind smile that spreads a delightful warmth throughout your chest.

“Now quit stalling and roll over,” he says teasingly as he peers down at you with a faux annoyed glare.

You huff, feigning exasperation. As you heed his request, the swell of your bum inadvertently brushes against Billy’s stiff cock, causing him to reflexively buck his hips, chasing the heavenly friction. He groans out hoarsely as he wills his hips to still.

“That’s not fair,” he grumbles out gruffly as he shifts to straddle your hips, giving him ample access to the expanse of your back. You giggle at his pouty remark as you settle into your new position, your arms interlocked atop your pillow as you rest your head on them. Once you both have fully settled, Billy applies just a bit more massage oil to ensure his hands will easily glide along your skin. Then, he gets to work on massaging the sore muscles of your back. He starts with your neck and shoulders, alternating between kneading out the knots with the pads of his thumbs and his knuckles, depending on their severity. Billy then glides his hands down to your upper back, just past your shoulders, and begins to work out the kinks in the muscles there. If it weren’t for the feeling of his stubborn hard-on resting warmly on your bum and the way he subtly ruts into you occasionally, the experience would likely be purely wholesome. However, even with his attentive doting, his neediness bleeds through as much as your own, once again tainting the otherwise innocent endeavour with a hint of sensuality.

By the time he reaches the lowest point of your back, you’ve both begun to emit soft moans and blissful sighs, the sweet, melodic sounds serving as relaxing background music. Once he’s finally finished kneading your back muscles into submission, you’re confident that Billy will finally give in to temptation and fuck you. When he nudges your legs apart and shifts downward to slot between them, you’re sure your partner is right where you want him, unable to resist you any longer. However, Billy surprises you when, rather than lining his cock up with your entrance, he simply lays down between your legs, propping himself up on his elbows as he begins to massage the backs of your thighs. You look back at him over your shoulder quizzically, making him giggle and smile impishly.

“Told you I wanted to take my time with you, love,” he murmurs teasingly before leaning forward to trail kisses along the inside of your left thigh. Meanwhile, he glides his hands up to the plump fat of your arse. He starts kneading the flesh there, alternating between coasting his hands up, in an outward motion — spreading your round cheeks and exposing the most intimate parts of you to himself — and rubbing in a downwards motion, inadvertently pushing the globes of your arse back together as he squeezes the plush fat and sore muscles there. Billy would be entirely content to just lay there, watching in awe as the smooth skin of your rear, now shiny from the oil on his hands, submits to his firm touch. He’s always found it hard to pick his favourite part of you, given how wonderful every single part of you is. Still, if he was forced to choose, he’s sure his first instinct would be to choose your bum simply because of how voluptuous and lovely it is. It’s certainly not the plumpest he’s ever seen; the man did spend years looking at porn daily just to have something to do. Still, it’s his favourite, not just because it’s yours, though that certainly does sweeten the deal. It’s his favourite because of how beautiful it is, with its various dimples and stretch marks. He especially loves the lone freckle that resides on one of the plump globes, constantly calling out to him to place a kiss atop it. Once again, he finds himself powerless to refuse its call, leaning over with pursed lips to cover it in a warm smooch, making you giggle. Not to mention, the first time he had the pleasure of fucking you, he’d had to take you from behind due to the inconvenient location; a small guest bathroom in a mutual friend’s modest London flat. As a result, your arse has gained this sort of sentimental value in his eyes because whenever he sees it, it reminds him of the first time you’d met, the first time you’d had sex together, and, subsequently, the first time in all the twenty-six years of his life that his cock had felt the warm embrace of something other than his own hand.

You’re well aware of his quirky fondness for your behind. Honestly, it has you worried that perhaps he might neglect to give either of you any lasting relief tonight, instead opting to lavish your bum with an inordinate amount of attention. It sounds silly, sure, but you wouldn’t put it past him to do precisely that. Of course, he wouldn’t do it out of malicious intent; instead, Billy would simply get so caught up with the absolute treasure that is your bum that he’d completely forget anything and everything else he was doing.

Fortunately for you, however, Billy notices your anguish, fully aware of how your hips have begun to rut into the mattress, seeking relief in the form of friction, and decides to end your torment. So, he leans forward to lick a long strip across your slit, starting at your mound and ending at the tiny expanse of skin that separates your two holes, parting your folds with his tongue as he does so. The caress of his wet muscle has you reeling whilst you grip the pillow beneath you tightly and moan a wordless plea, begging for more. Ever the people pleaser, Billy happily obliges as he uses his hands to spread the globes of your arse apart, indirectly pulling your folds apart as well, diving in to lap eagerly at your sopping wet cunt. He starts off slow, lapping up your wetness gingerly, moaning as the heady flavour he loves so much dances across his taste buds.

“Taste so good, love,” he moans wantonly, the sound muffled by your flesh, “so warm and wet and sweet. Pussy’s so sweet f’me, baby.”

Billy’s babbling; he knows he is. Still, he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, not when your scent and taste overwhelm his senses, making him dizzy with lust. Yearning for more of your flavour, he eases his tongue inside your entrance, thrusting it in deeply as he curls it to lap at your walls, his wet muscle fighting against the strength of your clenching hole. He lets out the most sinfully saccharine moan you’ve ever heard whilst he devours you.

“’S good, baby? Am I making you feel good?” Billy asks; he’s yearning for your approval, for your praise.

“God- fuck- Billy, you’re so good. Making me feel so good,” you mewl as you ride his tongue, your hips bucking of their own accord. Your salacious praise has him whimpering into your snatch; the knowledge that he is the one making you feel like this, that he’s the one pleasing you, causes a prideful heat to bloom in his chest, rise through his throat, and spread all across his head, dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears in a rosy pink colour.

He removes his tongue, easing it out of your hole and swiftly replacing it with one of his thick fingers before you can even begin to complain about your newfound emptiness. With his tongue now freed, he murmurs, “Want you to cum again, love. Need to make you cum like this before I fuck you,” before latching onto your clit and fervently suckling at the engorged nub, bringing you more pleasure than any one of those fancy, rose-shaped clitoral stimulators ever could. Billy’s bold words have you mewling and whining pathetically, but, much like him, you can’t find it in you to be embarrassed.

He adds another thick finger to your greedy hole, curling them both just slightly, just as you taught him to, and thrusting them deep. Unbeknownst to you, Billy’s become determined to make you unravel in a rare, special way; he wants you to soak him. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about your boyfriend over these past several months, it’s that he can be surprisingly tenacious when given the proper motivation. It just so happens that your ability to squirt, when given ample stimulation, is his new favourite motivator.

With his free hand, he grasps your hip, encouraging you to continue rutting against his face. “That’s it, petal, there you go,” he praises you between the flicks and strokes of his tongue on your clit, “grind on my face ’til you cum.”

His newfound confidence, along with the combined sensations of him lapping at your clit and fingering your cunt, has the coil in your belly again winding tight. Though, this time, it feels different in a way you can’t quite describe with words. Simply put, it feels more, more intense, more captivating, and undoubtedly more significant. You don’t often feel this all-consuming sensation, so it doesn’t take long to identify what it alludes to. Once you realise what’s happening, your eyes widen in shock, and your jaw drops to let out a moan so loud and lascivious that it nearly makes Billy cum all on its own. Luckily, he manages to stave off his premature release by rising to his knees, sitting on his haunches with his face still buried in your cunt as he lifts his hips off the mattress, robbing his needy cock of any friction.

“Billy, fuck, fuck,” you gasp and pant breathlessly whilst your legs shake, the meat of your thighs jiggling with the motion, providing Billy with a stunning view in his peripherals.

“Christ, Billy, please,” you whine as you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his in a lustful gaze. “Can’t- gonna make a mess,” you whimper pathetically.

He groans lowly at your words and the implication behind them. You meant them more as a warning, urging your lover to ease up before you soil the sheets with your release. However, Billy takes them as more of a promise, an incentive to keep going.

“Make a mess of me, petal. Need you to soak me,” he encourages you, though his lilting tone makes it sound more like begging. Once again, you find yourself compelled to give in to Billy. How could you possibly deny the man you love something he desires so ardently?

You moan wantonly whilst clutching your pillow so tightly that the skin of your knuckles goes three shades lighter than usual. “So close, baby,” you promise him, “gonna cum for you. Just need more.”

You don’t specify what you need more of, yet Billy gets the point anyways. He latches onto your clit once more, swirling his tongue round it in tight circles as he sucks on it. Occasionally, his teeth scrape against your nub so gently that it only heightens your pleasure. However, the actual source of your unraveling comes in the form of him finally giving in to his innermost desires and gently nipping at your sensitive bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure, with a deliciously minimal hint of pain, coursing through you.

The profound sensation has a rush of fluid squirting out of your cunt, soaking the sheets beneath you as you practically scream out of pleasure. Meanwhile, Billy watches in awe whilst he works you through your powerful release. This is only the second time he’s made you squirt in the entire history of your relationship. The sight of it has a mixture of pride and wonderment swelling in his chest, especially since he didn’t need the aid of a toy to make it happen this time. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop ravishing your spasming sex, until you finally reach down and gently push him away, the constant stimulation becoming too much for you to bear.

You both pant feverishly, finally able to catch your breath in the stillness afforded by your brief refractory period. Billy massages the backs of your thighs, easing the tension there as he sits back on his haunches and looks down in awe at the mess he’s made of you and, consequently, of your bed.

“I love you,” He murmurs whilst leaning forward to trail warm kisses up your back, following the barely pronounced ridges of your spine.

“Love you too, Billygoat,” you slur out dopily, drunk on the pleasure he’s given you. Billy giggles, truly giggles, both at your silly nickname for him and at the blissed-out tone in which you utter it.

“D’you want to be done for the night? Or d’you think you can handle some more?” He asks you, sweetly checking in with you like he always does.

You look at him like he’s grown a second head and reply, “Are you joking? ‘Course, I want more.” Your bewildered tone has him giggling all over again. You can’t help but marvel at the way the slight pudge of his tummy adorably quivers as he laughs. There was a time when that little bit of chub didn’t exist, back when he wasn’t eating well, back when you’d first met him, and though you’d loved him all the same without it, you can’t help but prefer this new, fuller form of his. He looks healthy like this — well fed and cared for — and, in the most perverted-yet-still-somewhat-wholesome way possible, it drives you mad.

“Billy,” you softly call out to him, causing his giggles to wane.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Wanna try something I read about,” you confess somewhat shyly.

He leans over to kiss your cheek before nuzzling into the space between your shoulder blades. “What’s that, lovey?” He murmurs.

“Put a pillow under my pelvis? Please?” You ask in an adorably polite tone.

Billy grins impishly, knowing precisely what you’re after, having seen that trick in some of the pornos he used to watch. He wordlessly heeds your request, grabbing one of the plush pillows from his side of the bed, gently lifting your hips, and surprising you with such a casual display of strength as he slots the pillow under your pelvis, causing your hips to angle upwards just slightly.

Billy breathes a dreamy sigh at the sight of you, all spread out and waiting for him. In times like this, he can hardly believe you’re real, that you’re actually here with him, that you actually want him. However, the way you’re gazing at him right now, peering at him over your shoulder with a look of tender adoration, quickly assuages his doubts. You’re real, you truly are here with Billy, you love him just as much as he loves you, and you want this just as much as he does; all he has to do is take it, take you.

Billy smooths his palms along the soft flesh of your hips as he softly asks, “condom or no condom?”

It’s a reasonable question to ask. The two of you have only made love without a condom a couple of times before, once on his birthday, once on yours. Of course, both of you would like to forgo condoms indefinitely. However, you’ve been known to forget to take your pill occasionally. So, since neither of you really wants a kid right now, you two continue to use them regularly, just to be safe. But you’ve been exceedingly good lately, not forgetting to take your pill at all these last two months, and you can’t help but think you deserve a reward for all your effort.

“No condom. Wanna feel you, Billy,” you reply in a whiny, pleading tone that has Billy’s eyes rolling back. Who is he to refuse such a good, pretty little thing like yourself?

He gently rubs his tip along your slit, briefly bumping into your hypersensitive clit, causing you to mewl and squirm needily. Billy’s quick to oblige your wordless pleas, gently easing the head of his cock inside your entrance; it slides in almost effortlessly, thanks to your previous orgasms. The sigh Billy lets out as he slowly slides into you, feeling your warm, wet walls welcome him in, is shaky and breathless. He smooths an oil-slicked hand up the length of your spine as he gradually bottoms out, leisurely giving you inch-by-inch of his shaft as if he’s simply content to continue taking his precious time with you.

Really, though, Billy’s fighting the urge to fill you up all at once with one quick snap of his hips; to take what he needs from you. The muscles of hips and thighs twitch as he restrains himself, using every ounce of willpower to keep himself from fucking you brutishly, pile-driving you into the mattress. He wants to take things slow, needs to take things slow, or else this will all be over far too soon, and all that build-up will amount to minimal payoff. Billy can’t have that; he refuses to give you anything less than his best. This is his opportunity to take care of you, to provide you with what you need, and he won’t take it for granted, not after all you’ve done to care for him.

When Billy finally bottoms out inside your slick, still-spasming cunt, the two of you let out synchronous moans, both so high-pitched and needy that they could almost be considered whimpers. The feeling of your pulsing, silky walls gripping him so tightly is nearly enough to send him over the edge. So, to make this last, Billy has to hold himself back once again; he has to give himself time to acclimate to the overwhelming feeling. He leans forward, his chest presses against your back, whilst he presses warm, sloppy kisses to every part of you that lies within his reach: your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, all of it. Meanwhile, he murmurs soft, sweet praises to you.

“Feels good, love. You always feel so good.”

“God, I can - fuck - I can feel you, feel your pussy fluttering round my cock.”

“You look so beautiful, baby. My pretty petal always looks so lovely f’me.”

Each one has you whimpering softly, has butterflies fluttering in your tummy, and has your walls clenching around him greedily. Billy’s only digging his own grave, making you grip him like that. It’s nearly enough to make him cum, but, fuck, he can’t stop; you deserve to know how good you are and to be worshipped like this.

“Billy, please,” you mewl desperately, rocking your hips slightly to encourage him to move.

“I know, baby,” he coos reassuringly, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your cheek whilst he rests his forehead gently against your temple. “I’ve got you, love,” Billy promises as he slowly begins to roll his hips, thrusting his cock inside your wet heat, “‘M gonna make it so good for you, petal, I promise.”

“’S already good, angel, ’s already so good,” you mewl, equal parts desire and reassurance.

The feeling of his shaft dragging along your walls with each thrust, of his tip hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl, of his heavy balls colliding with your tumescent, tingling clit, is enough to send you into overdrive. Yet it’s still, somehow, not enough; you need more.

“Billy,” you whine pathetically whilst looking back at him with an adorable pout, the kind that you know he can’t resist. As always, the petulant expression has him caving instantly as he leans forward, capturing your lips with his own in a passionate kiss; however, it’s a bit sloppy due to the awkward angle.

“What d’you need from me, love?” Billy murmurs against your lips, his soft, low tone making you melt.

“Need you to fuck me harder, Billy,” you plead pitifully.

Whatever Billy was expecting you to say, it certainly wasn’t that. Your boldness catches him off guard, has him throwing his head back with a loud, lewd moan. As much as he wants to take things slow, to memorize the feeling of your walls gripping him whilst he makes love to you, he’s powerless to deny you. You’ve bewitched him, beguiled him to the point where he’ll give you anything, do anything for you; all you need to do is ask. You have Billy wrapped around your finger; he’s utterly devoted to you and irrevocably yours. He even tells you as much as he pulls away, sitting up on his knees and firmly grasping your hips, pulling you back on his cock as he begins to pound into you just the way you want him to.

“Love you so much. God- fuck- I love you so much, petal,” he rasps.

The force of his thrusts swiftly turns those melodic, lilting moans you love so much into the deep, somewhat raspy grunts that never fail to drive you mad. The sound of skin slapping against skin as his pelvis repeatedly collides with the globes of your arse fills the room, along with the wet, smacking noises made by his cock driving into your slick heat and the dull thump of your headboard hitting the wall. It’s a chorus of sweet, blissful depravity that only increases Billy’s newfound fervour.

“Fuck, baby,” Billy groans deeply whilst reaching round one of your hips to play with your sensitive little bud, swirling the tips of his fingers on it in tight, fast circles, “Wanna live inside this pretty little pussy. ’S always so warm ‘n wet for me.”

You simply mewl in response, too far gone, too fucked out to form any coherent response. Billy’s usually vocal in bed, unable to stifle his loud moans and whines, but he’s rarely so brazenly talkative. He’s usually more unsure, constantly checking in and making sure he’s doing a good job. So, it’s always a treat when he gets like this; confident, daring, and maybe even a little cocky.

When you look back at him over your shoulder, you spot his tongue curled up against his upper lip, a telltale sign of the effort he’s putting into fucking you hard. Were it anyone else, you might giggle at the way their tongue can’t seem to stay in their mouth, but with him, coupled with the sweaty glaze he’s coated in and the way his muscles flex as he drives his cock into you, it seems to only add to the appeal. Billy’s brutish grunts fill the room as he fucks you, and you find that you love the uncharacteristically deep, raspy sounds emitting from him just as much as his dulcet moans.

“God, Billy,” you mewl pitifully.

“’S good? You like it when I fuck you hard, petal?” Billy asks as he leans forward to press a sloppy kiss to your shoulder.

Your mouth falls open with a loud, lascivious moan as you nod meekly. At the same time, your legs begin to shake as the coil in your stomach winds tightly for the last time tonight; your climax approaching swiftly. Billy can tell, can feel how close you are in the way your tight heat clenches around him, like your walls are trying to milk his cock. Your pussy has his thick cock locked in a vice grip, one that he has to fight against the force of as he continues to pump into you, and the feeling of it sends him hurtling toward his own peak.

“‘M so close, dove,” Billy warns you, his grunts morphing back into his desperate, lilting moans as his pleasure mounts.

He leans forward to lavish your neck with kisses, moaning wantonly in your ear whilst continuing to fuck you like his life depends on it; like the only thing he needs in this world is to feel your greedy sex pulsing around his cock.

“You gonna cum with me, baby? Need you to cum with me, love,” Billy pleads, fucking into you fervently as he groans lowly.

You whimper as you look back at him and nod. He offers you a soft, encouraging smile that doesn’t quite match the lechery of this moment but warms your heart all the same. The warmth blooming in your chest seems to grow more prominent when Billy presses a tender kiss to your shoulder and another to the crown of your head.

“Doing so good f’me, love. Taking my cock so well. ’S like it was made f’you, made to fill your- fuck- your sweet pussy,” Billy praises you in between his wanton moaning.

“It was,” you whimper pathetically, “it’s mine. ’S just for me.”

Your possessiveness never fails to make Billy melt. However, it is a bit unnecessary; Billy’s been yours, solely yours, ever since you first spoke to him. You’d found him cowering in a corner at a mutual friend’s party, the same one he’d fucked you at later on in the night, and made it your mission to get him to open up to you, to get him to have some fun. If the nearly ten months you’ve been together are anything to show for it, your unspoken mission was obviously a smashing success.

“That's right, baby. ’S just for you, only for you,” he cuts himself off with a needy groan, “It’s yours, love. I’m yours.”

“I love you, Billy,” you moan weakly. It’s the only warning you give before you cum, the coil in your belly finally snapping as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over you, making your muscles twitch whilst a loud, lewd wail of pleasure tumble past your parted lips. The incessant clenching of your walls has the fluids of your release gushing forcefully out of your sex, coating you and Billy’s thighs in a warm, glossy sheen. That same clenching of your sex is also what leads to his own unraveling.

Billy’s head rests between your shoulder blades whilst he lets out a series of wet moans and pornographic whimpers, his orgasm hitting him abruptly and intensely. His hips stutter as he pumps his throbbing cock inside you, shooting rope after rope of cum into your fluttering cunt; however, they finally still when the sensation becomes too much for him. Billy collapses on top of you, careful not to put too much weight on you, as he lets your spasming walls milk him dry, painting them with the last of his release as he fills you to the brim.

The two of you remain like that, still tangled up in each other and unmoving, whilst coming down from your mutual highs, both of you fighting to catch your breaths. It isn’t until Billy begins smattering needy kisses along your neck and shoulders that you start to stir, wanting to roll over so you can kiss his handsome face. He takes the hint, removing the pillow from under your pelvis and easing his softening cock out of your cunt. The sudden movement makes you both hiss, each far too sensitive for such stimulation, but it’s over soon. Of course, even with your hypersensitivity, you whine at the loss of Billy’s cock, missing the feeling of fullness that only he can provide. Your petulance makes Billy chuckle whilst he helps you roll over, knowing you’re too worn out to manage that feat on your own.

You sigh blissfully once you’re face-to-face with Billy again. His beautiful brown eyes, not unlike those of a young calf, gaze down at you adoringly, making you beam up at him happily.

“Hi, handsome,” you greet him softly as you reach up to run your fingers through his light brown hair, still tinted with strawberry blonde highlights from the summer sun, though it’s been months since anyone around here saw that flighty sun.

Billy giggles at your hazy silliness whilst he replies, “Hi, petal.”

“Kiss me?” You ask simply, your tone soft and sugary sweet.

“I’d be honoured,” he murmurs teasingly before leaning down to capture your lips in a languid embrace. The kiss is so tender and saccharine that you both moan softly into it. You part your lips for Billy, letting him deepen the kiss as you wrap your arms and legs round him, encouraging him to fully rest his weight on you. He’s like your own personal weighted blanket. Interestingly, you’d previously never really understood the appeal of weighted blankets, believing them to be suffocating and restrictive, at least not until you cuddled with Billy for the first time and realized how delightful it can be to have such a warm, soft weight pressing against you, holding you down and keeping you safe from the outside world.

Unfortunately, the feeling of the soaked sheets clinging to your skin soon pulls you out of your blissful state. You groan as you reluctantly break away from Billy’s kiss.

“We gotta get up and change these sheets, Billygoat; feels icky,” you inform him with your face pulled into a tight grimace, clearly conveying your discomfort.

“Yeah,” Billy groans in agreement as he pulls away from you, rising up to sit back on his haunches as he peers down at you with a wry smile.

“We’ve gotta get you in the shower, too,” he reminds you whilst he climbs out of bed, coming to stand on his slightly unsteady legs. He then turns to face the bed again, looking down at you.

“I lied to you earlier,” Billy says, continuing his previous line of thought, “You reek, babe.”

The gasp you let out in response to his remark is wholly indignant, aptly conveying your faux offense as you launch a stray pillow at him. It thwacks Billy in the chest, making him drop his deadpan façade as he bursts into giggles.

You climb out of bed on your own shaky legs as you playfully threaten, “You’re gonna be so sorry for that, Billy Knight!”

“Dove, I was kidding!” Billy shrieks giddily whilst making a break for it, running out of the room with you not far behind him, still giggling as he attempts to evade whatever playful punishment you have in store for him. He manages to put some distance between the two of you when he wisely fakes you out, making it look like he’s going to turn into the bathroom before running off in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen.

“You’re lucky I love you, Billiam!” You huff out, doing your best to stifle your own giggles. Billy’s laughing increases tenfold at the sound of the odd little nickname you’ve given him.

Billy’s giggles subside as he suddenly pokes his head round the corner and into the hall, fixing you with a genuinely fond smile, catching you off guard.

You halt in place as Billy softly says, “I love you too, petal.”

God, he is unreasonably adorable.

putting symbols at the end so hopefully tumblr won't cut off the last paragraph!!

#ask and i shall reply #soft dom!billy knight #also…#reluctant dom!billy knight #shy bb just has trouble asserting himself sometimes <3 #billy knight #billy knight x reader #billy knight fanfiction #billy knight fanfic #billy knight blurb #billy knight fluff #billy knight strike #billy knight smut #billy knight fic #strike lethal white #once again…#FUCK JKR #we don’t tolerate terfs or transphobia on this blog

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punkfloweranarchy · 10 months

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Hot take but I don’t think Hobie is ever gonna be comfortable around Jeff. He’s gonna force himself to be polite for Miles’ sake, but they’re never gonna have an easy-go-lucky relationship.

And the thing is, Jeff gets it. He’s a black cop. Of course he fucking gets it. He can just be glad that the kid calls him ‘Mr. Morales’ even if he doesn’t even pretend to respect his title as ‘Captain’ like Miles’ other friends do.

He wishes things were different and that this kid didn’t have to be so wary and defensive around him, but he chooses to put on the badge every day and be part of the force that he has first hand seen the corruption in. He has his reasons for doing what he does. He believes in being the change he wants to see and making sure that he can at least be one less corrupt asshole walking the beat, but he gets it.

He’s not so prideful that he expects every person to give him the respect he wishes he can someday claim. He hopes he can gain some level of trust from the punk (and oh boy, of all the people he imagined his son bringing home, an anarchic pierced up rebel was not on the list) eventually, but for now he settles for the forced politeness and let’s the clear mutual respect and adoration that Miles and Hobie share soothe him. He’s happy for his son. He’s glad he has someone who gets everything he goes through as a vigilante (and oh boy, again, that’s still something he’s getting used to).

He notices the way Hobie is constantly hanging off of Miles and the feigned casualty of his touches, but Jeff recognizes the way the young man scans the area for threats and the subtle but deliberate way he angles his body in front of Miles to protect him. Jeff feels the bone-deep weariness and guilt that the actions inflict in him — the thought that this teenager is so on guard around a cop that he feels the need to protect the people he loves even against their own damned father (and the added responsibility on both Hobie and Miles’ shoulders that comes from being superheroes of course. Always on guard, scanning for danger and ready to jump in at a moments notice to protect innocents. The same familiar urgency that Jeff feels every moment he’s on duty). He wishes it was different. but he gets it. One day, he vows, things will be different. He just has to keep working it until that day comes.

And yeah, they give each other a hard time about their life choices and sometimes things get tense and awkward, but at the end of the day, Jeff is a father and a damned good one and all he wants is to protect his family (even if it now includes a punk like Hobie).

#i have Many Thoughts about jeff and hobie #i love the ‘meet the parents’ trope but i’ve seen so many that are just… too light or just to the left of what i would think is realistic #anyways #sorry for the cop talk: acab and fuck the system #it’s just such an interesting dynamic and i want to see more analysis of jeff and his mindset bc damn it’s rough #char: hobie brown #char: jeff morales #spiderverse #atsv #vee’s soapbox #vee’s drabbles #mayhaps i’ll try writing my own version of the ‘meet the parents’ trope but we’ll see #much nuance to be found #and so hard to get just right #vee’s rambles

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stringcage · 1 year

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Ok u guys I couldn't help myself so here is the parallel post for everyone's favorite gay punk high school dropouts,,, the incomparable Ronan Lynch and Chloe Price!!

Obviously they have very similar character arcs and I think the main thing unifying them as characters is the way that grief takes shape in young people, both inside and out.

(this will have spoilers for the raven cycle + extended universe and life is strange + extended universe btw)

Each are described as being very jubilant and bright characters because of their happy childhoods before their transformations. They had extremely loving environments to grow up in that were stolen by loss. When their fathers died, it changed everything, as it would for anyone, but what amplified the pain of this loss for each of them is added loss that is (perceivably) chosen. When Ronan's dad died, Ronan was also confronted with the knowledge that he wasn't allowed to see his mom anymore, and for reasons he can't understand, she hasn't pushed back on this contingency at all. When Chloe's dad died, she had the awful luck of Max, her best friend, moving away only days later, and even though Max promised she would be there for Chloe despite the new distance between them, Max never calls or makes any effort to maintain contact with Chloe. So both of these characters are forced at a young age to endure unspeakable grief for their closest family member, but on top of that, their next closest support system CHOOSES (from their understanding, at least) not to help them get through this even though they could.

So what impression does that leave them with? This intentional rejection gives them the impression that they are not worth support, not worth loving. And they each have prior evidence from the world to support that claim:

Ronan has spent nearly his entire childhood isolated from the world because he's a dreamer. We know he isn't allowed to hang out with friends like a normal kid would. He comes to find out that not every kid can do the things he can do, in fact, from what he can tell, NO kid can. He has his brothers, who he got along with at the time, but neither of them would ever have to deal with the same otherness that Ronan did. On top of this, he's the only gay person that he even knows or knows OF. The world is beating this sense into him, this sense that he does not belong and that he is doomed never to be understood by anyone. You are made of dreams and this world is not for you.

And Chloe, a new student at Blackwell at the time, is one of the only scholarship students in a school full of rich kids who she deems "fake." We learn in "Farewell" that Chloe was being bullied for her family's economic status, and her only friend goes to an entirely different school from her. We don't know exactly how Chloe copes with the pain of being a young lesbian or if she even realizes it as this point in time, but knowing the environment she was surrounded by, there's no implication that she had any kind of support system for this. She's able to combat the isolation that all this induces, but once Max is gone, that's no longer possible. She's well and truly alone. Everybody pretends to care until they don't.

All of this piles onto each other- the forced loss, the chosen loss, and the increasing sense of isolation- but there's a tipping point when Ronan and Chloe are no longer able to bear life the way they always have. This comes in the form of a threat of paternal replacement: Declan Lynch, David Madsen. Ronan's older brother has to shoulder the responsibility for the rest of the family once their parents are out of the picture, and Chloe's mom married an overbearing, paranoid man. Both DBag Lynch and Step Douche care very much about their families and are deeply invested in the role to protect them, but neither of them go about it the right way. They constantly fight with Ronan and Chloe respectively. They can see that Ronan/Chloe are getting broken by this world, and their response is to try to whip them into someone the world could be more sympathetic to, even if it means not truly being themselves.

A new figure trying to usurp the role their father had in their life would be hard enough to tolerate from even the gentlest of people, but Declan/David's sternness over the fragile, freshly wounded Ronan/Chloe invokes a defensive urge, the final straw on the camel's back. They have to push back against the world that has taken too much from them and expected them to get back up on their feet with no one patient to lean on.

(disclaimer: this is NOT a holistic comparison of Declan and David. David caring for Chloe as his step daughter does NOT excuse any of his actions. What he did to her is not forgivable, and I am not likening his actions to Declan Lynch's.)

This, of course, comes in the form of two major shifts: external, and internal. Out jumps the PUNK ASS BITCHES with their newly short hair, edgy clothes, and extremely extremely noticeable massive tattoos. This look, the superficial armor.

With the new look comes the new attitude. They have been transformed into abrasive and disagreeable miscreants, untouchable through the cold blunt edges that conceal their inner turmoil. Notably, Adam Parrish refers to Ronan as a pitbull; Frank Bowers compares Chloe to a bulldog. This demeanour, the TRUE armor.

The world cannot reject them if they reject it first. They cannot be misunderstood if no one wants to get to know them in the first place. They must be harsher, faster, more unfeeling than the world ever was to them if they hope to survive it.

Miraculously, this armor is not impenetrable to all. In fact, they'll find solace in the charming king and queen of their towns, ENTER STAGE LEFT, RICHARD GANSEY AND RACHEL AMBER. In a school full of pompous admirers, what could Gansey/Rachel possibly see in a battered dog like Ronan/Chloe? Apparently, someone worth taking anywhere. Gansey/Rachel admire the ferocious heart within Ronan/Chloe, warts and all, and resolve to stick by their side, becoming a conduit for the strong loyalty that Ronan/Chloe have always possessed, but have been deprived of someone to give this loyalty to. They may seem like unlikely duos, but they give a sense of purpose to everyone involved.

This friendship will keep them alive for many years to come, but of course, the loss will pile on eventually. Chloe will lose Rachel and even eventually come to find that Rachel betrayed her before she was gone. Ronan will lose Aurora before he gets a chance to save her for good, and he will briefly lose Gansey as well. Their armor will be penetrated worst of all upon these revelations of further loss. We see them heartbreakingly break down for the first time. It will seem that all is lost for them, and after all the universe has taken away from them, were they right all along? Are they really not meant for this world?

And of course, that brings us to the gayest part of all: being DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE. Throughout the duration of their stories, the world has not been on their side. In The Dreamer Trilogy, Ronan will be pummeled by reality's rejection of him. He will literally be hunted down by people trying to prevent the end of the world which has been traced back to an apocalyptic fire he will cause. In "Polarized" we will discover that the tornado that has been alluded to as "the end of the world" (the degree to which we are uncertain, but certainly the end of Arcadia Bay) is a result of Max's repetitive intervention to keep Chloe alive, and the storm can only be stopped if she is allowed to die. These two are SO UNFIT for the world around them that it literally takes apocalyptic forces of nature to wipe them out of it for good, and seemingly the world will be better for it.

But the world doesn't have a final say in this. These two will not be abandoned by those whose lives they've touched. Throughout these stories, Ronan/Chloe's armor against the world was not enough to keep love out of their lives. Both of them have quantifiably good impacts on their love interests.

Blue Sargent makes Richard Gansey quiet, but Ronan Lynch makes Adam Parrish loud. He shows Adam that there is room for the present in his life, not just the future he's been obsessing over. He gave Adam enough happiness for the first time in his life that Adam was able to recognize that the future he always thought he wanted wasn't working out for him, and that he deserved some say over his own life.

Max Caulfield starts out the game by being self contained. She has ambitions, but she doesn't believe that she has the power to actualize them. Chloe restores something in her. She shares her self-assuredness with Max and encourages her to reach her full potential and embrace the strange abilities she possesses. In this story of choice, Chloe is what proves to Max that there is value in her choices. Her decisions and uses of her power literally start and end with Chloe.

And because Ronan/Chloe have done this for their love interests- not even entirely knowingly, but just by being themselves and living in their lives- Adam/Max refuse to let the universe have their way with Ronan/Chloe.

In "Greywaren," Adam, although angry with Ronan at the time, risks everything to scry out and find Ronan's incorporeal soul in the sweetmetal sea. Though Ronan thought he'd lost him for good, and maybe even found it justified, Adam won't let him be alone anymore. When all is lost to Ronan, and he doesn't know if he will ever be whole again, the love of his life comes back and he tells him: you are worth being here for. You are worth people. You are worth the world, and I will choose to be with you when it is not easy to do.

In "Polarized," Chloe discovers that the storm can only disappear if she does. She reflects on her mistakes and realizes that the world that has so shunned her is worth her life, and so she begs Max to let her die so Arcadia Bay can live. But Max cannot reconcile this. She destroys the chance to let Chloe die, making up for leaving her after her father died. The love of her life tells Chloe: you are worth being here for. You are worth people. You are worth the world, and I will choose to be with you when it is not easy to do.

(^ of course this ending is contingent on the player choosing to sacrifice Arcadia Bay, which only about half of players do, but considering that the comics pick up after Max sacrifices the bay for Chloe, we can consider this to be the "canon" ending that Max (the character, not the player) chose.)

Ronan Lynch and Chloe Price tell stories of people who, in one way or another, are just not designed for this world. Some people have hearts too big and grief too often. The world rejects them, and no matter how much Ronan/Chloe believe they would reject it back, in the end they would go to any lengths to keep it around. The acceptance of the world may not be enough to keep them around, but the love of their close ones can be.

#wow that was long as hell #anyway.. alexa play monster by imagine dragons!!#ronan lynch #chloe price #the raven cycle #the dreamer trilogy #life is strange #life is strange before the storm #pynch #pricefield #ronsey #amberprice

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justablah56 · 6 months

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ee hee @iersei I finished writing another Glenn gender post :3

todays glennder post is specifically abt transfem Glenn , so buckle the fuck up <333 SO I've mentioned before that my person hc is that Glenn was transfem from when she was abouutttt 15-16 ish until Morgan's death p much . She was always sort of gnc before that , being a teen boy who's kinda emo/punk/alt with an absent father will do that to ya . I think for a while he didn't really think it was anything and it was totally normal and not a gender thing when he liked his hair long or his nails painted or a bit of makeup on here and there, he was just a rebellious teen who wanted to look cool . but then I think he started identifying as a demi boy at first, like yeah I'm not cis , but I'm still a guy , right ? (wrong) through their teenage years it slowly morphs into just they/them , not minding he/him , it just wasn't what they used most often . then he meets Morgan . Morgan , known lesbian . at first glenns like yeah wowie were such good friends , plus even if I liked her I'm a guy , a manly man , id have no chance , even if she is so so hot .. but they're like . besties for a few years , and at one point Morgan brings up the idea of crossdressing when they're probably in their early 20s. she mentions she thinks it'd be fun to try a sort of drag-king vibe , and glenns like haha yeah I could be your matching drag queen and Morgan's like 👁️👁️ so they go out to find outfits . Glenn finds some fun black leather dress or smthin like that and puts it on and comes out absolutely grinning . she doesn't think this is a performance , it feels too real . meanwhile Morgan is sitting there's like holy shit that is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen . both of them are seeing *Glenn* for the first time and she's beautifully herself . after that Morgan and Glenn go to a lot of dress/skirt shops . I think Glenn does really like the sort of drag vibe to her femininity though . she just loves the exaggerated makeup and the eccentric outfits and the ridiculously tall heels , and Morgan just thinks she's hot as hell <3 after a bit Glenn goes on estrogen bcs she can and life is good for a while between Glenn and Morgan . I think they do drag together super often , Glenn for the most part just glams herself up , bcs we love a transfem drag queen <3 and Morgan prefers to do more masc drag , and they like to correlate their outfits to match whenever they do it and it's just v sweet <3 I think though , (and I believe I've mentioned this in previous glennder rambles) that as Nick comes along and Glenn is given more responsibility he kinda starts regressing back in his gender journey . Glenn gets kinda ... burnt out . to the point that putting effort into his gender presentation isn't worth it anymore . when they first have Nick she starts using she/they . her and Morgan stop doing drag as often . as Nick grew up it morphed into just they/them , and Glenn didn't want to try to come up with a parent word for themself so they were still "dad". when Morgan died Glenn stopped presenting female completely . to him , he didn't have the time anymore to be worried about that kind of thing , and it was easier to just ... be a guy again . it also had to do with the fact that any of his feminity just reminded him of Morgan bcs he had been with her the whole time , so he couldn't dress up like he used to because every time he tried to dress up he would be turning around expecting to see Morgan's smiling face with her own outfit on , ready to tell her how pretty she looked all dolled up . and then she wasn't there . and that hurt . and as Glenn does , if it causes any kind of negative emotional reaction at all it's better to just shove it into a closet and pretend it doesn't exist , and that's what he does with his silly goofy transed gender . he does still stay on estrogen though , I think . bcs it's the one thing that he's just gotten used to and it would be more difficult to suddenly stop than it is to just keep doing it . he tells himself it's because he doesn't like change . and that's part of it , but y'know . she's still there .

anyways this got kinda longer than I thought it would but I'm so insane about transfem Glenn literally thinking about her constantly , she's my babygirl , my malewife , my girlhusband , my silly rabbit , I love her sm <3

#just blahs #glenn gender <333333 #shes everything to me #dndads #dndaddies #dungeons and daddies #glenn close dndads #dndads glenn close #transfem glenn close

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lonespektr · 8 months

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SEPTEMBER 6TH HORROR WATCH

The Deep Ones (2021)

I think white people doing love craft could be a fatal error but here we are

Okay strangers

Okay not strangers 🙄🙄

Miscarriage

"old world"

It's annoying when they comedically play what should just be a normal sex between partners

Like do fun and flirty or do sexy

This lets comedically film normal is not now nor has never been it

It's like when marvel stomps on every joke

Miscarriage trauma and the guy is whatever's about it

Not surprisingly the woman is already cast in black with a vague whore stamp cause she had sex but failed to produce a baby so WHORE even in marriage and trying for one

Alien

And preggers

Very clear mystical pregnancy

Normal depiction of boobs is good if there's equal opportunity treatment for men...

More eggs

This an air b n b?

Hallucinations

Just making up shit, just peak men shit

6AfuckingM

Bruh you didn't wake ha?

Make sure to apologize for being a frigid bitch for not having sex post miscarriage

Out of the boat alone

Call in for doc / sleeping plotting against her

Trident lore 🔱

Oh sis is preggers too

Luddite commune

Was Lovecraft also anti tech punk ass too?

Journey

The light

Lol he doesn't know what fucking Cthulhu is 🤣🤣

Hypnosis already

Being on your knees before a woman is inherently degrading but also to make it clear we are going to have a guy there behind him and do some tentacle penetration

Full robes of course the woman is bleeding preggars in pain and simulated Cthulhu sexual assault 🙄

White guy is chosen by Cthulhu

Eggs 🙄clams🙄

Candid camera

Doc dropped by lol old school

Sis finally let's her guard down because the doc knows some acupressure after being the only one with common sense

But they always hobble a woman by preggers or other ailments

Lol doc got a home lab?

Missing woman

The not believed "crazy" she said ACAB

How u tell somebody business like that?

She said why don't you do a welfare check on her steada bothering me

Fishy 🤣

What's with the universally poor application of lipstick

Got the light

Sinister very male response to truth from women and excuses

Lol preggers fetish

Gills

Echolocation

Tentacles got our town nutter

She knows

You already brought her to us

Jasmine awaits

This lady isn't door a poor job acting necessarily but she's off.. somehow

Now another scripture

Party time

This is the fifth time they have said his name and I'm sorry I'm too dumb i don't understand the reference

AA welcome

Petri is obviously a peter derivative...rock

Kid in a creepy mask

Lots of simulation of substance use w/o much substance use

Already asked to swing!

Trying to tell the ratio

Vessels to the old ones

Again not subtle which seems anti Lovecraft

So many uncomfortable close ups

Bro where she go to get that drink russia?

9 months today 😬

Moving here

Lol she can't even think of an excuse not to stay

Lol cuban time

Fire fertility show

They actually hired somebody 🤣

I like that the woman are all middle aged regular looking my baby likes you

Oh yea that was the one kid there despite all the pregnancy

Chanting and planning to impregnate the women

There's something sinister about mens ignorance to the situation in horror films it's misogynistic although i can't place why

Webbed fingers

And these poor women talking sense

Talking sense is awful in a horror film

Oop name drop the man books on the shelf have secret letters

10 months from today 😂 i suppose we wouldn't know what day it is so

But it's old

Bits of german

Stranded guest afraid

I always feel like somebody's watching me

I like the silly little projections of scenes on the letter

These women win being the most realistic in a horror film

Lol straight to cult

Lol she said necrmbkomicon stuff 🤣🤣

Everybody crowded watching in that security room is taking me out the robes

Omg that old man chasing a car on foot!!

Got her

That's the other kid i guess

Bruh that was HELLA close to the house

Now she looking for phone and passport

Here goes the nanny cam

Poorly placed mic

Mam well past time to EXIT

phone didn't work, now it do, MAM

Odd tones

Lights

And the door

The hell kinda knife is that

Petri out

Secret room

Dagon!

Knew it

Thank you

Petri useless

She ran Anyway after waiting

Now he got it

Help who? Now we in stupid horror movie antics

You ALREADY established the cult

They flicked a switch now she dumb

Caveman

More children

At least they aren't pretending it isn't rape, that would have been worse

They utilize the intimacy anchor to convey he's lost instead of the other way around, that is they usually fail to do the task not initiate a poor mimicry of it

I guess points for the rape being guttural screams of agony not salacious

Putting the camera alongside the aggressors elecits different emotions

I believe this one was attempting to do a bystander helplessness thing

Esp considering the last scene

These are ineffective without hope at the end like the letter, something that assists the next victim

#the deep ones #lovecraft #graywatchhorror23

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Note

what about doing a steve x reader? maybe where the reader gets hurt during a mission by hydra?? just an idea!! xx

He’s Like a Brother to Me

Summary: Pretending to be a couple for a mission is normal, so why is your Captain so upset?

Warnings: being injured on a mission, kissing, a swear word or two

Word Count: 2202

a/n: My first request!! To the anon that requested this, thank you! I hope you like it :) Sorry if it's not angsty enough! I really tried, but once I got this idea in my head I ran with it.

Also! I didn't do my normal tag list since y'all requested to be tagged when I was only writing Criminal Minds fics. Just lmk if you want to be tagged in marvel or CM or both!

"The mission is simple. You two will go to the gala as newly weds, pretend to be interested in more than the charitable events of the evening, figure out the chain of command for the weapons dealing, and put a stop to the weapons dealing assholes." Tony laid out the plan as if nothing could go wrong.

You turned to the super soldier on your left, relieved to find a matching grimace on his face.

"We have to pretend to be a couple?" You asked, turning back to Tony.

"Yes. The invites we secured are for Mr. and Mrs. Farley, so you two will be Mr. and Mrs. Farley for the evening. Any other questions?" Before you could chime in with the 17 questions in your head, Tony kept talking. "I didn't think so. Your clothes have already been dropped off to your rooms, so get ready. You'll have Rogers and Wilson doing surveillance in case anything goes wrong." Without another word, Tony forced you and Bucky out of the room.

"I guess I'll see in an hour, husband." You tried to joke, but your smile didn't meet your eyes.

"Same to you, wife." Bucky's face held a similar expression as you both turned your separate ways to get ready for the gala, trying to put the awkwardness behind you.

You and Bucky have been incredibly close ever since he first came back from Wakanda. You became fast friends since you are both so close with Steve.

It was easier for Bucky to open up to you than he anticipated, and in part it's because you remind him of his sister. Similarly, Bucky is like the older brother you never had. The two of you mesh, in the most platonic of ways.

He is there to tease you about your not-so-secret crush on Steve, and your there to help Sam come up with more annoying nicknames (starBucks being one of your favorite to date).

When it comes down to it though, you look out for each other. Of course, that won't make pretending to be a couple any less awkward.

You and Bucky enter the gala just after 8:00 pm. The large hotel ballroom is lit up by three enormous chandeliers, spaced throughout the room, with small sconces lining the outside walls. There are round tables around the outside of the room, framing a large open space for dancing.

People are mingling in small groups scattered throughout the room, waitstaff wondering around the room in precise lines to ensure anyone who wants a drink has access to one.

With a deep breath, you link your arm with Bucky's, laughing at the surprised look on his face.

"We have to at least try to sell it." You whispered in his ear, trying to play it off as a cute couple-y thing. "Even if we'd both rather be anywhere else." That comment earned a laugh, easing the tension from his shoulders.

Steve's voice in your ears refocuses you on the mission. "We just got video feed from the security cameras, so we have eyes on you now." You would have sworn you could hear an unfamiliar strain in Steve's voice as he spoke, but you chalked it up to just being nervous for the mission. "Try to mingle, figure out who's in charge."

Mingling was easier said than done. Every time the two of you tried to talk to anyone, the conversation was awkward and tense. You just didn't know how to answer questions about falling in love with each other. Ultimately, you decided eavesdropping was your best bet. Bucky pulled you to the dance floor, whispering in your ear as he held you, "dancing is the perfect cover for moving around the room."

You nodded your head in response, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What are you doing? I said to mingle, not dance." Steve's voice in your ears surprised you. Normally, he'd stay quiet unless he received intel that could help with the mission or noticed something for you to look into.

"We're listening to other conversations, relax punk." Bucky's voice was light as he spun you around, closer to the most suspicious people you've found thus far.

"What time is it happening?" The woman seemed nervous as she checked her watch.

"A few minutes. Relax, we'll meet them down the hall at 8:45." The man was calm and collected as he took her hand, leading her across the dance floor and out of the room.

"Guess that's our cue." You stated the obvious as you and Bucky went to follow them out of the ballroom. The couple turned down a side hallway, pulled out a key card, and entered a room, about halfway down.

You and Bucky made quick work to reach the room, pausing outside to listen in. You heard the couple, along with an unfamiliar voice.

"Do you have them?" The unfamiliar voice asked.

"We do. They're hidden in another room down the hall." the woman again sounded nervous.

"You" the unfamiliar voice must have pointed at someone, "go get them. Your wife will stay here to keep me company. Make it quick, Hydra has more important things to do."

Yours and Bucky's eyes went wide at the mention of Hydra. This mission wasn't supposed to have anything to do with them. Before you could react, footsteps could be heard coming toward the door. You had a few seconds max to figure out a way to hide.

With no other options in sight, you pulled Bucky across the hallway into the world's most awkward kiss. When the door swung open, you pretended not to notice, too lost in your "relationship" to care.

The man you saw earlier walked a few doors down before entering another room. You pulled back from Bucky, wincing slightly at the expression on his face. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't think of anything else to do to make it look like we weren't listening..." You trailed off.

"No, no it's fine. It was the only option." Bucky cleared his throat, still slightly dazed and very thrown off.

"Could the two of you stop staring at each other and get back to work?' Steve's voice was again present in your ears, and this time he was definitely angry.

"Right! Right, of course. Let's go." You awkwardly pushed off the wall, moving down the hallway to the room you saw the man enter. On the count of three, you burst into the room together. It was easy enough to over power the lone man in the room, but you and Bucky were still a little shaken up after the kiss. You handcuffed him to the bedpost, taking the key card he used earlier and moving back down the hallway.

After a brief, awkward eye contact, Bucky opened the door with you rushing in behind him. The only two people in the room were the two you heard earlier, making for a fairly easy take down.

"Cap, we got 'em. Two in room 217 and one in room 223." You started to fill him and Sam in, unsure if they still had eyes on you. At that exact moment, three more Hydra agents ran in from an adjoining room, catching you off guard.

You yelped when the gun went off, surprised at the sudden noise after thinking the mission was over. You and Bucky managed to take down the three agents without much more difficulty.

"Scratch that Cap, five in room 217." You again began filling him in, but the room started spinning. Your voice was wavering when you collapsed, the last thing you heard a mixture of Steve's voice in your ear and Bucky's in person calling your name.

"Y/N!" Then everything faded to black.

"What the hell happened in there?" Steve and Bucky were standing just outside of the med bay. After you collapsed, Bucky realized you had been shot in the stomach. While other Shield agents came to collect the men you had stopped, Bucky carried you to the quinjet, meeting a pissed looking Steve at the door.

The two didn't talk at all during the short flight back to the compound. It wasn't until you were in the med bay receiving medical attention that Steve rounded on Bucky.

"There was never any indication that more agents were there. They caught us off guard! I didn't even realize she had been shot until after we had them contained." Bucky was beating himself up. He let his guard down, still trying to get over the lingering weirdness of you kissing him.

"Caught you off guard? Buck-" Before Steve could yell anymore, Dr. Cho came out to talk to them.

"Y/N will be fine. She lost a lot of blood, but she should recover relatively quickly. She'll likely wake up in the next half hour." Dr. Cho got straight to the point, trying to ease the nerves of the two super soldiers.

"Thank you so much. Thank you!" Bucky called over his shoulder as he ran into the room, planting himself by your side. He may be weirded out by the kiss, but he knows you were too. You're still like a little sister to him, nothing could stop him from being there for you when you wake up.

Steve followed Bucky into the room after thanking Dr. Cho and briefly discussing the timeline for your recovery.

"As I was saying. Caught you off guard? I've never seen you caught off guard before." Although he was whispering so as not to disturb you, his words were nearly venomous. "The two of you let your feelings get in the way of this mission."

The look of guilt already present on Bucky's face multiplied tenfold. "You think I don't know that? I should've seen it coming. If I wasn't distracted I could've stopped them before Y/N got hurt."

You woke up at some point, hearing Bucky blame himself. Instantly, you wanted to ease his worries. "Hey," the two men turned to you, concern clear on their faces. "It wasn't your fault, Buck. I was just as distracted. Neither of us saw it coming, even though both of us should have. It doesn't matter though, because we got them, and I'll be fine." You sat up, wincing slightly at the pain in your abdomen.

"How can you say that? Of course it matters! You could have died, all because Bucky was too busy making heart eyes at you to-" Steve's words were cut off by identical sounds of laughter from you and Bucky.

"Heart eyes?! Oh my god, that's hilarious." You stuttered out the words between laughs. Steve look so confused, you couldn't help but laugh at his cute expression.

Every time you thought you were done, one look at either Bucky or Steve had you laughing again. "Oh god, make it stop! It hurts to laugh!" You pouted slightly, begging Bucky to stop laughing and Steve to change his expression.

Finally, Bucky reined it in enough to speak. "I was distracted because Y/N like a little sister. It's definitely a bit distracting to feel like you just kissed your sister" You and Bucky each made a face of disgust as you looked at each other.

Meanwhile, Steve had a look of complete shock on his face. "Wh-what? You two aren't ... ya know?”

Again, you and Bucky share looks of disgust. "God, no. He's like a brother to me."

"Yeah, I love Y/N like a sister. I'm definitely not in love with her." Bucky agrees.

Steve's expression is sheepish as he tries to explain himself, "but, but after the kiss you were staring into his eyes like you were in love!"

"We most definitely were not." Mumbling under your breath, you kept talking "his aren't the blue eyes I'd like to lovingly stare into."

Steve was shocked into silence by your statement.

"I think that's my cue to leave." Bucky wore a smug grin as he slapped Steve on the back, uttering a quick "good luck, punk" before leaving.

It was quiet for a minute, neither of you quite sure what to say.

"Who's blue eyes do you want to stare into?" Steve broke the silence, shuffling closer to sit on the side of your bed.

"What?" It took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize you said that sentence out loud. "I said that out loud?" You threw your hands up to cover your face, mumbling about being an idiot to delay having to answer.

"You did. So... who's blue eyes?" Steve's demeanor quickly shifted from shy to confident. He slowly moved your hands off your face, tilting your chin up to look into your eyes. One look had you confessing all your secrets.

"Yours. It always been yours." He rubbed his thumb across your cheek, leaning in closer to you until your foreheads were touching.

"Let me take you on a date." His words were barely a whisper, the warm air from his breath sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded in response, not trusting your voice.

He leaned in closer, barely brushing his lips over yours. "I need words, sweetheart."

You pushed forward, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss.

"Yes."

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #requests #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #captain america x you #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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ofstarsandvibranium · 3 years

Text

Bad Reputation

Fandom: Marvel (High School AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x GN!Reader

Summary: For some reason, your high school’s resident bad boy, Bucky Barnes, seemed to have made it your personal mission to be a thorn in your side.

A/N: inspired by this gif set.

Your eyes glance up every so often to make sure your notes are correct as you scribble into your notebook. Mr. Coulson continues to talk about history and you're adamant to jot down every single thing he says.

You feel something hit the back of your head, but you ignore it. A minute goes by and you feel it again, along with a "pssst!"

You shake your head and try to keep your focus. Something something 1894-

"Hey," you jolt when you hear a whisper and a tap on your shoulder.

You look over your shoulder and see James "Bucky" Barnes now sitting the seat behind you that was previously occupied by Brunnihilde, "What, James?" you hiss.

James, or Bucky as he likes to be called, smirked at his first name. Not many got away with calling him that, but you did.

"Wanna hang out after school?"

You turn back around to continue taking notes, "Don't you have detention...again?"

He scoffs, "Yeah, but I'll skip it for you."

"Pass," you mumble.

You hear him sigh and lean back, "Suit yourself." Minutes pass and you turn back around and Brunnhilde is back in her seat.

________________

When you walk out of class, Bucky is waiting for you by the door. You ignore him as you walk down the hall to your next class. He follows closely behind, you hear the creaking of his leather jacket that he usually wears.

"Leave me alone, James."

Bucky rushes around to stand in front of you, stopping you in your path, "Y/N, why do you hate me so much?"

"Because you're annoying, you're a troublemaker, you never know when to shut up you, you-"

"Jeez. Alright. Damn."

"I have to go to class, James," you walk around him and continue your journey.

He catches up to you again, "I'll walk you!"

"No, thanks."

You continue to head to class, but Bucky doesn't follow this time. He stops in the hall sighing and pushing his hands into his distressed jeans. He looks down dejectedly and heads in the other direction to his class.

The bell already rang by the time he steps into class. Ms. Hill writes him off and he, to no one's surprise, get detention yet again for having three tardies in a row.

He slumps into his seat behind his best friend, Steve, and sighs. As Steve is writing notes, he murmurs only low enough for Bucky to hear, "No luck?"

"Nope," Bucky murmurs back. He looks down and looks how his black t-shirt clings to his round belly. He pats it and sighs, "Do you think they'd like me if maybe I wasn't so chubby?"

"Y/N may not like you, but they're not shallow, Buck."

"I just don't get it. Why don't they like me?"

"Probably because you annoy them so much," Steve answers with a smirk, which earns him a flick to the ear.

"Ow!"

"Steve, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

He shakes his head, "No, ma'am."

Ms. Hill goes back to giving her lecture and Steve hisses, "Quick being a jerk."

"I'll quit being a jerk if you quit being a punk, you punk," Bucky retorts with an amused grin.

___________________

You head to your usual table where Scott, Hope, Luis, Carol, Brunnhilde, and yourself usually eat.

You sit in between Scott and Carol with a sigh. It's Tuesday, but you already want the week to be over. Carol leans in and whispers to you, "Don't be alarmed, but Bucky's been looking at you since you walked over here."

You groan and let your head fall onto the lunch table, "Why can't he just leave me alone?"

"Because he likes you," Hope answers.

You snort, "More like he likes to annoy me. I don't want anything to do with him. Bad guys like that are up to know good. I don't have time for that."

"I like Bucky," Scott speaks up with a smile, "He's cool."

"You just like him because he gave you a nickname," Hope replies with knowing smirk.

"He's a cool guy!"

You hear a burst of laughter and you look up to see Bucky throwing food at Clint and Sam two tables down.

You roll your eyes and pull out your own lunch. As soon as you're about to take a bite, you hear "WATCH OUT!" and you're hit in the face with a piece of pizza.

Everyone suddenly goes silent. You look up and see Bucky's look of horror. He's immediately rushing over to you, "Y/N! I am SO sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, James." you say calmly.

He looks at you in surprise, "Wait, really?"

You take Scott's cupcake that he got from Gamora and said, "NOPE!" and smashed it onto his face.

He wipes away the frosting and smushed cake, and smirked, "That's how it's gonna be? Fine." he grabs your tupperware of pasta and dumps it over your head, "FOOD FIGHT!"

Everyone begins to scatter and starts throwing their food left and right. You grab your food, Scott's food, Luis' food, any food you can get your hands on and throwing them to Bucky.

"YOU'RE SUCH AN ASS!" you yell at him.

"AND YOU'RE A STUCK UP!"

The doors to the cafeteria burst open and the principal, Mr. Fury, yells, "EVERYONE FREEZE." And you all do.

You're seething, glaring at Bucky, chest heaving.

"Who's responsible for this, huh?"

Everyone points to you and Bucky who are in a more isolated area of the cafeteria. Fury, watching where he stepped, marched over to you. He points to Bucky, "Barnes." and then you, "L/N, my office. Now."

________________

Two weeks. Detention for a whole two weeks. You couldn't believe this! Because of Bucky, your record was no longer clean. Your dislikeness towards Bucky just grew after that.

After school, you marched into the cafeteria where you'd be helping the lunch faculty.

"Alright James and Y/N, you'll help with dishes. You can discuss who will wash and who will dry."

Without looking at Bucky you head to the sink, "I'll wash."

Bucky cautiously follows you and stands by your side waiting for you hand him washed dishes.

"Y/N-"

"Don't talk to me, James."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs in a painted tone, "I really didn't mean to throw that pizza at you."

"Why are you like this?!" you drop the dishes back into the sink, "Why must you annoy me and bother me every chance you get?!"

"I-I don't mean to-"

"Bullshit, Barnes!"

"I like you, okay?! I like you and I-I don't know what to do! The only time you look at me or talk to me is when I bother you and I just-I just want you to talk to me, Y/N. To see me."

"Why me? There's plenty other people who'd rather have your attention!"

"I don't know. There's just something about you. You're sweet and smart. You're caring. I know-I know something like me doesn't deserve the attention from someone like you, but I can't help it."

You snort, "You don't know me though. Not really."

"Well, maybe I can get to know you now? Ya know, since you and I will spending a lot of time together here?"

"We'll see," you answer before heading back to doing dishes.

__________________

After a week of detention, you and Bucky were more civilized. You got to know each other a little bit more. You found out that he wanted to take over his dad's construction company, that he wanted to help Steve get into NYU with the money he's been earning from working with his dad.

Bucky learned that you wanted to go to school for journalism and that you have a pet bunny named Floppy.

You found out that Bucky knows Celine Dion's music very well because his mom loves her.

He found out that you wanted to be on Broadway when you were younger, but realized you had bad stage fright.

Whenever you two saw each other in class or in the halls, you didn't turn in the other direction. You gave each other a nod and a polite smile.

Then...the flowers started happening.

You walked into Mr. Coulson's classroom and found a daisy with a note next to it. You picked up the note and it read:

I saw this cute flower and thought of you. Have a good day.

-JB

You looked at the back of the classroom to where Bucky usually sat, but he wasn't there. You snort to yourself and roll your eyes. He's probably going to late, per usual.

A few minutes before class started, Bucky waltzed in and sat in the empty seat beside you. He pulls out a notebook and pencil. He writes the date at the top and looks up at the front of the class to see if there was anything on the whiteboard.

He then turns to you and smirks, "Hi."

"Hi. Thanks for the flower."

"You're welcome," he looks down at his notebook and then looks up to see you still staring at him. He chuckles, "What?"

"You're early to class and prepared....are you feeling okay?" you lean in, feeling his head with the back of his hand.

You swats your hand away, "Quit it! I'm fine! Just turning over a new leaf. I'm gonna be a changed man, Y/N."

"Okaaaay?"

Your school day went by fast. One moment you were in your first class and the next you're in the cafeteria helping clean the kitchen.

"So...what's the real reason you're suddenly trying to be a good student?"

"Does there have to be a reason?" Bucky asks as he wipes down the counters.

"There's a reason for everything, Bucky." you freeze and so does Bucky. You look up and he's looking way too smug for your liking, "It was a slip of the tongue."

"You called me, Bucky."

"It won't happen again."

"Can I hear it again?"

"Nope."

"Please?"

"Hell no."

"Okay...I do like it when you call me James, though. Just so you know." he looks at you with a soft stare and an equally soft smile.

You cleared your throat and went back to refilling the fridge with milk, "Anyway, the reason?"

Bucky sighs and walks over to you, resting against a counter as you work, "Had a meeting with Fury. Said if I don't improve on my grades, I'm gonna get held back. Means I can't pursue my goals with taking over my dad's business, can't help Stevie with school. I gotta be better."

You pause and then ask, "Do you....want some help?"

"Um...I'd like some, but you don't have to. I can't ask-"

"You're not asking, James. I'm offering."

"Sure."

So after school, while you and Bucky served your detention, you helped him study.

Eventually, your detention was over, but that didn't stop you from helping Bucky. During lunch, you two would be in the library. You two would study at the park near your house. You soon began to show you his grades and they were definitely improving.

When Bucky got his first A in a long time, you took him out to lunch to celebrate.

You guys went to the local café in your neighborhood, getting burger, fries, and shakes.

You lifted up your shake, "Congrats, James, to your first A in a logn time!"

Bucky held up his own and clinked it to yours, "And to you, Y/N, because I wouldn't have done it without you."

"Guess we make a great team, huh?"

Bucky smiles that smile that you've noticed he only does with you, "Yeah...we do."

____________

"You've been spending a lot of time with Bucky for someone who hates him," Carol states as you join them at the lunch table after what seemed like forever.

You rolled your eyes as you sat down, "I don't hate him. I never did, honestly. Just strongly disliked! But anyway, we're good now. Bonded a lot during detention and then I was tutoring him. We're....friends now."

"Just friends?" Brunnhilde asked.

"Yup. Just friends!"

After school, Bucky is waiting for you by your car.

He nervously wipes his sweaty palms down his round belly and runs a hand through his hair, "Um, hey."

"Hey, what's up?"

"I just wanted to let you know something. You know my feelings for you and, honestly, they haven't changed. In fact, they've only grown since we've been spending so much time together. And, there's another reason why I wanted to do better in school...and that's you."

"Me?"

"I wanted to be better for you, so I can show you that I'm not just that punk ass kid that doesn't care about anything and anyone. That I'm more than just my bad reputation. And, I think this past month, I've done a pretty good job at showing that. But anyway, I was wondering, if you feel the same? And if you wanna go on a date sometime?"

His confession floored you. You didn't expect him to say any of this, "James, I-I won't lie, that I have some feelings for you, but it-it takes a lot more than this for me to like someone. I mean, we just became friends. And while I do like how you've changed, I just-there's more to it than just that."

He nods and clears his throat, "Right. Got it. I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," you grab hold of his arm, "Maybe...we can just be friends for now and see how it goes?"

He nods, "Yeah. Okay. You set the pace and I'll follow, Y/N. I'd rather have you as a friend than not at all."

"I can't promise anything would come from this."

"I know. I'm just....glad you finally see me."

You smile at him with softness in your eyes, "I'm glad I finally see you too."

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #au #marvel au #high school au #gn!reader #gender neutral!reader #chubby!bucky

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samuclit · 3 years

Text

Love Foolish

miya atsumu x reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, mature, a little smut (define little on your own), 7.8K words

Summary: Miya Atsumu didn't realise that he was actually counting the days he spent with you while being your boyfriend. The step-process to how your relationship with him rekindles every time a new day begins was not as apparent as it seems to be, but he sure knew that the dreaded day when it comes to an end will never come.

This is an old piece that I worked on last year...I am terribly sorry for the way I post this fic I am not good with tumblr yall this is harder than my degree

........................

Day 153

Atsumu was exhausted. He just got back from training with the college team for a few weeks already. He needs to catch up with the college team even though the time he spent away was used for his training with the MSBY Black Jackals team. He was advised by his family members, team coach and his friends that he should not miss out on any practice without a valid reason and should diligently claim his spot on both teams with the most outstanding effort and attitude so he followed, believed that this is for the best in order to build his volleyball career he was always so passionate about since he was in middle school. If only Osamu joins him, he thinks it won’t be as draining as it is right now.

Everyone in college knows Miya Atsumu, he is too perfect. The handsome look, tall and built figure, his diligence in both studies and shaping his career, to top it all off he is charming and is a ladies’ man. He could make every girl fall for him the instant he flashes his smirk that has been scientifically proven to be a bait for everyone in this universe. One small talk he could get girls on his bed, spending the whole night snogging off each other and leaving them whenever he got annoyed with the sudden disturbance. You happen to be one of the girls who got in his bed, goes on several dates with him, but this time you were one of the people who last longer than a week, and then a month and few more months after that. He assumes and waits for you to be the one ending the relationship but it won’t even come, and he is already tired of waiting.

So, he makes you tired. He doesn't want anything to be on his way at all, and you in the equation is making him disturbed at some times. During the first few weeks of dating, you often invite him for a date at the coffee shop which he obliges only for the reason to not break your feelings even though he has some tasks which are more important at hand. You are nice, but he isn’t. He told Suna that you deserve better.

It has also been roughly two weeks since he last talked to you, and deep in his heart he kind of wants your nagging presence around him, just to distract him from the truckload of stress he’s carrying on his shoulders. So he texted you.

You: [Name], are ya coming or not. Been thinking of binging that Netflix series you’ve been babbling about.

[Name]: Ah sorry, it’s girls’ night with Midori and her gf.

You: I see. Have fun.

Seen.

That’s weird. You said it yourself that you wanted to binge on the weekends with him, after he finished with this practice for the week, and also he thinks that’s just you trying to make up with him after your first argument with him. It is...nobody’s fault, he thinks. He doesn’t want to blame himself and you, partially because you were really upset that day that you raised your voice and he didn’t chase you after you ran out of the apartment. It is just a silly argument. He doesn't want to think about it that much.

As he took a shower and dressed himself in a fresh new pair of t-shirt and black sweatpants, he plopped himself on the sofa and went through Netflix to find something worth watching. He saw the show you wanted to watch ; Pretty Little Liars. Ah it’s not even a Netflix series, it’s just a series which is available on Netflix. Seems like he wasn’t even attentive to what you said.

Before he falls asleep, he walks down the memory lane, to remember how exactly you and Atsumu could last this long in a relationship.

Day 0

The party seems to be a hit! His seniors on the volleyball team joined hands with the football team to conduct a party to celebrate post-sports festival of Tokyo U that happened for a week long and the party is held at the dorms outside of the campus so the board of education won’t meddle, with the promise that there aren’t drugs involved. Which is okay, the athletes are supposed to stay away from drugs and they’re disciplined enough to consider their life decisions.

He was simply just hanging around in the living room of the dorm, which is a terrace house in a neighbourhood a few kilometres away, talking to his friends, Suna and Komori, who are his teammates in the college team. Komori used to go to the same Youth Camp with Atsumu so they knew each other since then. “Huh, sick party. I didn’t think there would be too many people here.” Komori said as he chugs down his cold beer, swaying a little after he finishes with a slightly long chug. “Senpai said just the athletes of the college are invited, but it seems like the whole campus crashed together. Lunatics.” Atsumu said as he plopped down on the bean bag and leaned his head back. Suna calls out.

“Oi, Midori is here. I invited her.” Atsumu is familiar with Midori, he has never been close with her but he knows of her since they went to the same high school together. The three pairs of eyes went towards the door together to greet Midori, with you tailing behind her. “Hey, glad ya made it!” Suna lunges forward and grabs Midori in a hug. “Yeah, cool place, I’m sorry I don’t have a plus one to bring with so I just drag my friend along. Hey, this is [Name]. Go say hi and be friends!” Midori pushed the other girl, which he heard to be [Name], also a familiar name. “Oh wait...you guys must have not have known about her...we went to the same school man...” Midori pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. It is sad that not many people know about small girls like [Name] that much.

Indeed, you went to the same school and you’re in a completely different league than Atsumu, he was and still is the famous athlete that has the entire girls’ population wrapped around his fingers. You’re around the circle of...top scorers who are active in volunteers and some other stuff Atsumu was not into. “Oh, is she another one of your hockey teammates?” you continue hiding behind Midori’s taller frame. Midori pulled you away and hugged your waist, giving support. “Come on now, babe say hi, they’re our friends” you glared at her with a smug look. “Hye, it’s [Name]. I’m not an athlete, I’m a political science major, pleasure to meet ya” your eyes tried to glance from Suna to Komori and to Atsumu but you averted your eyes away from him as soon as it landed on him. You look cute in just a rock concert t-shirt with black jeans shorts and plain converse. Classic party look, but you are not the type to go to parties because...assignments and stress are getting through you which explains why you’re all fidgety. Midori knows there’s more to that, cause you’re a very wild extrovert at some time.

“Hey, enjoy the party, drinks and snacks are down there, the toilet is on another end, help yerself.” Atsumu pats on your shoulder and moves past you to greet his other friends who crashed the party. You’re petrified, to say the least and moved quick on your heels to head to the bathroom for some reality check. The environment is overwhelming.

Atsumu gets tired easily even after downing a can of beer but he isn’t exactly drunk. He is just tired with the lots of conversations and the girls from other courses trying to talk to him, wanting the conversation in a bedroom which he said no to, he is a responsible man. He is not going to do it with them when in their drunken stupor. However, his endless denials are stopped with a sudden disturbance right in front of him.

Midori is on a couch, with a girl and was playing with her hair and occasionally rubbing her thigh and before they closed in someone threw a beer cup at Midori. “What the hell? Leave me alone!” Midori turned his body to see a bulked up guy whose name Atsumu doesn’t remember behind the couch, looming over the two figures sitting on the couch. It’s going to get ugly.

“What the fuck, you leave us alone! Why the hell are homos here. Get out!” Midori and the poor girl trembles in fear and Atsumu wants to blow a kick so bad but he can’t move because of the girls that are around him. Before he tried to push the girls away, he saw you moving towards him, taking away the beer can he has in his hands. “I’m sorry I’m taking this!” Your eyes had a small fire ignited in it and he can’t help but gave away his beer can, and then he saw you walking up on the couch and on to the head rest, spit into the beer and pours the beer all over the homophobic guy who slandered your friend. The guy was drenched and screamed because the beer was icy cold and it came to contact with his skin that got heated from way too much alcohol consumed.

“Oh, I am very sorry, I was convinced that this big hunk of muscle is a trash can!” you screamed with an evil laughter and the whole party laughed and cackled at the sight of the giant asshole from Engineering talking shit about the woman adored by the majority of campus. Midori is your best friend, a very kind, beautiful and valid lesbian friend of yours. You would do anything to protect her from the touch of homophobic devils that would insult her every now and then. It has been happening more recently after she got out of the closet, even when she was inside all this time, you have always given her tons of support and protection because it’s just something about you. Midori was already smiling and got herself up away from the sofa with the girl she was with, hands holding hers tightly.

“You punk! Are ya crazy? Do ya want me to kill ya like I kill your friend here?” your figure who had one leg propped on the head rest while the other on the couch went tense and is about to fall and the nasty asshole grabbed you by the neck, having you lifted in the air and no one helped to stand against him except Midori who was pulling your body before the guy fully grasped your entire neck in his hands. Before he even pressed harder on your throat, Atsumu landed a punch on his face, making himself knocked down on the floor. You already fell flat on the couch, trying to regain your breath. He warns the guy off and he immediately leaves after.

“Shit shit, are you okay?” Atsumu kneels on the floor to check up on you, who were lying on the couch, still coughing out and trying to calm down. Midori ran to get some water for you. “I’m fine, fine, where's Midori? Is she okay?” Midori hit you in the arm. “Idiot. I am fine but look at you, I told you I’m alright, if you give them attention and piss them off they will harm you, look what happened.” Midori cries and hugs you. Atsumu checked up on your face, saw tiny drops on the edge of your eye which got wiped away the instant Midori wrapped her arms around you. “I told you I will always protect you okay, I promised you that” Midori looked at your face again and was still sobbing. She turns towards Atsumu who stood by them. Suna and Komori arrived in the space after making sure the guys had run off. The party went back to normal and it’s chaos again.

“Thank you, Atsumu, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would happen to the both of us.” The girl from before is rubbing her hands on Midori’s back trying to calm her down. “No, [Name] did the most fight, I only come in when it gets physical. I let ya know when I see that guy again I am going to beat the living shit out of him. Nasty jackass.” Atsumu’s rage calms down when he sees you and Midori laugh, finally he makes a safe space for you and her. After some minutes of calming down and talking and giggling Midori takes the cue to leave. “I think I need to go now, need to take some air, you should, too, babe. Love you” Midori hugged and left with the girl she was with the entire time during the party.

Atsumu has long left you and Midori alone when you were busy talking to her, so he goes away somewhere to talk with some of the boys from the football club. They heard something about how that guy is a maniac and has been expressing his hate crimes for several years now, basically a loser and Atsumu thinks his sucker punch is something he could take pride in. After he saw Midori take off with the girl he saw you heading towards the door that linked to the backyard. More people were there, some were laying on the ground doing some unnecessarily lewd stuff that Atsumu does not want to remember.

He saw you taking a seat on one of the stools that was set up for guests to sit. He brought a can of beer, intended to give you. As he approaches you were rubbing around the area on your throat which the bully from before had pressed on. You were still in pain. “Hey, needa drink?” Atsumu hands over the beer while he sits down on the stool next to you. “Ah, I’m sorry I don’t...drink around guys. Trust issues.” Atsumu furrowed his eyebrows and he finally got what you were trying to say. “Oh, I totally get it, I’m sorry.” You were a flustered mess. You didn’t intend to actually...reject a kind offer from him but it’s a strange new place and strange new environment, though you knew Atsumu from high school to be quite a decent person that you– “[Name]? Are ya okay? Ya were about to say something earlier?” “Oh, yeah. You don’t have to apologise, we can just go for drinks some other times'' you let out a small laugh and he smiles. Awkward.

“Ya don’t have to worry about that guy, I heard someone is going to report him to the dean. He’ll be out in no time” you smirked. “Good! Midori must be happy”. The both of you laughed and the conversation continued randomly, topics about his volleyball activities and you popping in some random thoughts about life to him, it makes him feel weird at first but he picks up after quite some time.

And the night goes with you spending your night with him on his small bed in the apartment he shared with his other friends. Kisses are littered all over your body and Atsumu leads you through your first intimate session with so much ease and gentleness. He left an especially passionate kiss on the neck that tells the stories of your fight and trauma, hoping that he could kiss it away and replace it with the memories of your first. “Are ya really sure about this?” Atsumu asked at one point when you were making out with him on his lap just right after he got you in his room. “Please, do what you want” and Atsumu continues to ravish you and pulls on every article that trapped your beautiful untouched body.

The morning he woke up, you were sleeping soundly, despite the uncovered chest you had on display cause you fell asleep after the second round of fucking you had no chance to clean up or put on a shirt. The messy hair and arousing look you had on aside, you look too peaceful to be on someone’s bed, someone who you have known for a long time but have only gotten close from an impromptu encounter so Atsumu threw the plans of getting out of bed aside and continues watching the small details on your face. He would pick up the falling strands of your hair and tucks it behind your ear, trailing his fingers on the swollen lips you had after making out with him the entire night. He enjoys your presence. He likes it, being with you, so this is all worth it.

As your eyes fluttered open, squinting because of the bright sun, which was now covered by Atsumu’s hands to help you get back to sleep without the disturbance. You woke up anyway. “Atsumu, what are ya doing?” you asked, trying to pull the blanket that barely covers your naked front. “Just letting a princess continue her peaceful sleep” you were blushing, it feels like a dream to wake up with Atsumu next to you, so you lean into him more and he tackles you under the sheets. As Atsumu closes in again, about to kiss you like he did the previous night before, your eyes widened and you pushed him away, rolling out of bed naked. You pulled the blanket to cover yourself and scrammed to find your underwear and outfit from last night. “Fuck, fuck I’m late shit I gotta go” you were clasping your bra and putting on your underwear as you continue with your series of cuss words picked up at random. “What’s going on are you okay? Was it–“ you put on your jean shorts and looked at him. “No-no I’m late to a group discussion and I am going to die I think.” You already had your phone in hand with your bag in hand running to the door. Atsumu put on his sweatshirt and training shorts in a haste, offering to give you a ride.

“Hey, I can help ya get to yer spot with my car. Don’t have ta rush'' you gaped and mumbles thousands of gratefulness and lunges forward to hug but stopped yourself. In the car you were on a phone call with one of the people in your group and you immediately spilled the idea you had in mind in a heartbeat. Atsumu has been driving nowhere so he stops and parked his car at the parking space of the nearby McDonald’s. After several arguments and reasons to have your opinion accepted you finally heaved a relief and ended the call with another apology.

“Yer quite a persistent one aren’tcha?” you looked at him, face messy, unclean and tired. The post-sex glow seems to not work with everyone. “Yeah, there’s an event and I’m in charge. I was so caught-off guard. Pretty sure they will kick me out if they don’t accept my idea but guess not!” you laughed and smiled gleefully. Pure satisfaction whenever people acknowledge us. Atsumu understood that much. “So...since you don’t have to go...breakfast?” Atsumu points his thumb to the back of the car, which was the entrance to the McDonald’s. “No...I stink so much...but I am hungry so....drive-thru?” Atsumu smiles and puts down the handbrake. “Sure thing, princess”.

After you both got your respective breakfast meal set, Atsumu takes off to the lake and brought you together with him to eat on the benches. Atsumu enjoys the company as much as you did. What starts off with a random conversation of how the duck is limping, to talking about the fluffiness of the poodle someone took for a walk turns into a conversation about each others’ personal lives.

“If anything, virginity is a social construct to put down women, so if you think last night is fun just because of that, I am going to berate your entire existence” you warn him, mouth full with the breakfast muffin. “Sure, what’s fun about last night is that you’re hot and I like you.” Atsumu closes in, trying to make you feel more flustered. “You...like me?” you were blushing and he guessed that his classic method works. “Can say that, I don’t usually have breakfast with people I sleep with, so I think that’s how I know.” You scoffed as his smug smile grew wider. “Oh you’re quite a cheesy one. So, this isn’t just a one time thing?” you looked over to him. He said no and continued kissing you like he meant it.

Days after that, the dates are frequent, spending the night in his apartment is a routine, watching movies is a norm and the intimate sessions get more interesting for the past few months, he thinks he needs to tell you all about his fantasy and you told him yours and both wishes are fulfilled.

Day 150

Atsumu woke up from the nap, the movie was already finished by then. He reached for his phone which was ringing non-stop. He's going to puke his brains out. Midori was the one calling him. There are around 7 missed calls coming from Midori.

“Oi pisshead, your girlfriend’s drunk. Come and pick her up.” Atsumu looks at the time

10.50

“Didn’t last that long?” Atsumu giggles. Midori snapped.

“I’m being serious. She gets crazier now you need to pack her up. I can’t because my girlfriend is as shit-faced drunk right now.” Midori starts to call out your name to get off the table. Whatever that happened it must have been really shitty what’s going on down there at the bar.

“Okay, just text me the address I’m on my way” Atsumu took his wallet and car keys with him, all fresh to fetch your drunk ass home.

As soon as he arrived he stormed to the booth which you and Midori sat at. You were already lying down on the couch, fast asleep and giggling as you sleep. “Okay you’re here. I’m going home with my girlfriend so you take care of her properly.” Midori sat herself at the couch you were sleeping on. “[Name].....I’m going now so take care okay! Love you goodnight!” you were whining so loudly at her. “Nooooo....Midoriiiii-chan I am going to miss you don’t leave me” you were pouting and whining and hug Midori to prevent her from going. Atsumu stood at the side watching the mess unfold. “Your boyfriend is here to pick you up! Goodbye!” Midori dragged her girlfriend away and got out of the bar.

“Midori’s good at lying. There’s no way my boyfriend cares ‘bout me” Atsumu covers his face in shame because the other customers at the bar are looking at you. “Who are ya...are you a stranger? Can I call you Mr Stranger? You look handsome.” You giggled and Atsumu laughed at your cuteness. This is certainly a new side to you, he has never seen you turn into a giant ball of fluff before. “Okay now cmon Miss [Name] let’s get ya home.” Atsumu swooped your legs in his right hand while the other supported the small back of your body. Your eyes are still squinting which must be the reason why you can’t recognise Atsumu yet.

“I miss my boyfriend Mr Stranger. I want to see him...please take me to see him pleassseeeee.” You buried your face in his chest and held on to the cotton string of his hoodie. “Oh yeah? Is he really that handsome?” he puts you in the passenger seat and buckles your seatbelt. “He is! His hair colour is a bit funny, Midori said it makes it look like he bathed in piss” Atsumu got that too many times already. “But in my very personal point of view, it is kind of biased, he rocks that look. He looks hot!” Atsumu blushed and proceeded to head to the driver’s seat. It’s you and your habit of expressing too many opinions again. He liked this one. He also misses your constants chit chat after a whole month of not talking to each other because of a petty argument. He admits that he misses you so much, but a jerk like him won’t admit it. He’s going to break up with you anyway.

As he continues driving he would listen to what you said about ‘your boyfriend’ and he would sometimes smirks and whispers an ‘I know’ and sometimes it is too loud you caught him in the act. The night drive seems fun with you, and he figures you are still too drunk and even with too much talking your body stays the same. You fell asleep at some point, when he is close to the apartment you resided in. He found out after quite some time that Midori moved into her girlfriend’s apartment so now you live alone.

Even after he arrives at the apartment complex he lets you take some time to sleep, and as time passes by and it’s getting later into the night, he shakes your shoulder to wake you up.

“Hey, [Name], we’re here.” Atsumu smiles as you yawn and stretches your limbs.

“Mr Stranger? I have a secret. Can I tell you...I’m afraid to tell anyone.” You said after some time. Atsumu had no idea what to do. So he just played along. “Yeah, I promise I will keep it.” Atsumu laughs and looks at you.

“I think my boyfriend doesn’t love me. I kind of got the gist of it for a long time...but...now I am convinced. I think...the next time I see him, will be the last time I see him. And I–I don’t wanna” you cried immediately, you were sobbing too hard and you covered your face with the both of your palms. Atsumu is shattered especially, what you said was true. He might break it off when time comes, but seeing your heart broken and giving up the usual happy and chaotic smile and laughter you had because of the thought of breaking up with him, he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. So he asked further. He needs to know more, he needs to know why. Why do you catch up to what he was thinking so fast?

“W-why is it?” Atsumu choked on his breath. His heart was thumping so loudly, and it was beating off the charts. “He seems to not want me around...I tried my best to give him space, time for himself but....he never wants a time wimme....and then...I-he-he don’t want to see me even when he is free”. You continue crying in the silent car, Atsumu wanted to reach your hands but he knew that would be such an asshole thing to do since he is the one causing this mess. Atsumu got out of the car and opened the door from your seat. “Hey hey let’s get you to your apartment okay?” Atsumu unbuckled the seat belt and you kept on crying, you pulled on his sweater and gripped it so tightly and wailed like a baby into his chest. He sighed and embraced you in a tight hug, calmly rubbing the small of your back trying to calm you down.

After quite some time only the sniffles could be heard. You start talking again. “You know...I’d rather see him happy even if it means I need to break up with him. Ah I’m so dramatic for no reason. Can you help...carry me to my apartment, Mr Stranger?” you pulled away from his hug, makeup ruined and eyes red. Atsumu smiled and nodded at you. “Of course, I’ll carry you.” He carried you in a manner when he hugs your tiny body to carry you to the bed during one of those nights he needed a release. This closeness to your warm body, and the earlier event that happened of you confessing to a complete stranger about him, he is regretting it.

Day 125

Atsumu just got home from South Korea. He was there for a training camp with the home team there because one of his coach from the MSBY Black Jackals used his connections with an old friend to conduct a camp for them to further polish the players’ skill in the said sport. It would be a great chance for him to bloom more than how he is after his successful debut as a Div. 1 League player.

He was simply relaxing around after two days and Osamu was cooking plenty of food for the gang. Osamu invited some friends of his, and Suna brought his girlfriend with him. Komori was there too, with his cousin. When Osamu asked if he was going to invite you, Atsumu shrugged and said no, he wants to relax without you around. Even if you are around you would never go that far to make him uncomfortable. He still hasn’t called you yet even when he landed in Tokyo two days before.

“Atsumu, didn’t ya miss yer girlfriend? Just tell her to come over.” Osamu said from the kitchen, bringing a pot of stew he made for the gang and putting it on the table. “Nah, she didn’t even know I’m in Tokyo.” Everyone in the living room looks at him. “Miya you’re kinda an asshole for that” Komori said as he passed a bowl to Suna and his girlfriend. “Cmon now don’t look at me like I’m a criminal or sumn...I just want to relax I’ll tell her later.” Atsumu scoffed and leaned his back to the sofa as he was sitting on the carpet.

“Are you...joking. She came by practice the other day, said she can’t reach you.” Sakusa said as he put down his mask aside and dug in. Atsumu knew that. He purposely ignored your text and calls and only left a message when you’re offline or when he knows you were sleeping. He doesn't want distractions. “Yer a prick, [Name]’s really nice and ya can’t see that. If ya got issues just break up already.” Suna speaks and his girlfriend agrees. “Yeah for real, if Rintarou had issues I know he is going to leave my ass in the streets. But I’m glad he has no problems. As a woman I will honestly kick you in the ass, ya know, that woman with woman solidarity.” Suna kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and Atsumu scoffed. “I know, I just don’t know the right time yet.” Komori already mumbles a series of cuss words, Osamu and Suna sigh and Suna pulls his girlfriend back from kicking Atsumu in the face. Sakusa heard a doorbell and reached for the door now to open.

“[Name]?” Sakusa screams in shock. Speaking of the witch. Well, you’re not a witch, you’re the sweetest person ever that happens to be Atsumu’s unlucky girlfriend. “Hey Sakusa-san! Nice to see you! I brought something!” you waltzed in the door and headed to the kitchen you’re already familiar with. Atsumu felt his guilt eating his insides. Who the fuck called you here?

Komori puts his phone up so Atsumu can see. Komori smirks at him and Atsumu flashes out the middle finger to him. Sakusa mumbles and points at Atsumu, he said somewhere along the lines of you solve this on your own, Miya!

Osamu headed to greet you first. “Hey Osamu, I brought some home made dorayaki for you and Atsumu. You guys love it right?” Osamu smiles and thanked you endlessly. You smiled but as you looked at the awkward little Atsumu behind Osamu you stopped smiling. He headed towards you and Osamu knows it’s his cue to leave the both of you in the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s South Korea?” Atsumu sat on the chair of the kitchen island. “Twas good. The food there, they’re amazing.” You hummed. “Glad you enjoyed it. Maybe I would know more if you actually answer my calls and texts about how busy you are and tell me when you arrived. But it seems like you don’t miss me that much.” You sighed.

“[Name], I’m just...I’m sorry I need time for myself I’m so tired.” You looked at him, sad and gloom covering your whole body like the dark blue cardigan you had around you. “Tired of me or of practice?” you asked and reached for the tips of his fingers. “That’s–that’s not it, okay. Please give me some time.” Atsumu pleaded, you flinched when he suddenly glared at you.

After some time, you released a deep breath and headed to the door. “Enjoy the dorayaki guys, I hope I don’t interrupt you guys. I’m sorry and please take care of Atsumu for me.” You opened the door and headed out. Atsumu is still in his seat. When the door was slammed he got up and sat himself back on the carpet around his friends. He picks up his chopsticks and pulls the omelette Osamu made. Everyone was staring at him.

“Eat your food and stop staring at me.” Atsumu rolled his eyes and ate more food on the table. “Ya don’t even want to chase her?” Osamu asked from beside him. “Nope.” Komori scoffed.

“Just want you to know she got here by bus alone. I don’t know if it helped change your mind.” Komori said and drank his cold lemon tea he poured for himself. Atsumu stopped chewing and clenched his jaw, looking at Komori.

“The one who ruined lunch is you, Atsumu.” Suna’s girlfriend said and Suna agreed. So does everyone else.

You don’t leave a text to Atsumu to the day he picked you up from the bar. He only texted you because he wants to end the relationship.

Day 153

Atsumu still has you in his arms. You’re already asleep, face still drenched with tears. He struggled with the pin to your apartment but picks up after a while of thinking. It is his birthday.

Atsumu realised he is a bigger asshole than how he was minutes ago in the car as he remembered that he had never come to your apartment. Months of relationship it was always his place as you always preferred his place over yours and he thinks that maybe if he was the one giving in more effort to be the one going all the way to your apartment to spend time with you, he would have felt better about himself. Normal dates outside are very rare aside from lunch or a quick grab of coffee before classes because he was too busy with his practices and you with your duties as a political science student.

He carried you to what he assumed to be your bedroom, carefully putting your body on the bed, taking off the leather jacket you had with you, slowly dragging the thick comforter to cover your shivering body. After shuffling in the kitchen, looking to find some aspirin and a glass of water for you to gargle right after you woke up he put it on the desk at your bedside.

He saw a picture of you and Midori on the table, during graduation day. Midori carried you on her back while you threw a peace sign with tongue out and Midori making a disgusted face. He laughs at it, putting it back to where it belongs, carefully.

You had a lot of other pictures pasted on the wall, the one that faces you when you sit on your study table. The notes and thick books are messily arranged on the shelf, a succulent that says ‘Good Job!’ on the table standing cutely, possibly the one that kept you up during the late night study sessions. He never really checked up on you and your studies, how did you manage to be so strong on your own without a supportive boyfriend, he doesn't know.

And then he saw the pictures you hung neatly. He took the pictures one by one and saw some notes you scribbled on the back of the photograph.

First, a picture with your parents. You talked about them at some time because you’re their only daughter and you missed them as much as they missed you. One time when you were making out with Atsumu your parents called and you pushed him away to answer the phone call. So funny how you got so innocent and angel-like just right after doing some lewd stuff with Atsumu just with the voice of your parents on the phone. At the back of the picture, it wrote.

Secured the top-scorer title with a scholarship! Mommy and Daddy are proud of me and I will never stop!

The second picture is of you and Midori at a pride parade. This time you wore a white t-shirt with blue jeans and sneakers and you looked absolutely mesmerizing.

Pride with Midori. I am so happy for her!!

Some other pictures of you at an animal shelter, old folks home, in the streets, caring for homeless people, women’s march and marathon for cancer awareness. You were basically everywhere and it is what makes him regret not finding out about this side of you. All he does is talk about his talent in volleyball and you always make him feel the best that he never gave a chance for you to talk about yourself.

Atsumu can’t stop the stretch of his smile and it is making his jaw sore. He is so whipped for you. You have always been such a caring person to him, doing your best to take care of him when game losses make his sour mood make a nasty comeback.

He would cry in a phone call because he messed up his set and you arrived in his room, dropping your bag to hug him and lull him back to sleep. He cries so hard and you would never make him cry worse than he did, you were always comforting but his pride and selfishness would forget that in a day because he thinks the relationship you had with him is a waste.

Atsumu is a fool. He didn’t realise how much his confusion hurts you more than it hurts himself. He is such a fool for not being there to protect you. The thought of you crying minutes earlier makes him scream in his heart, he doesn't ever want to see it again. If he made that happen again he will never forgive himself and if he has to build a shrine and be a monk to make sure his sins are forgiven he would do it. He would do anything for you.

The last picture hid him the hardest.

It was him, and you, during his debut game as MSBY Black Jackals setter.

You had your body leaned into his arm, smiling wide with a bouquet of flowers for him in your hand. He was staring at the camera with a lazy smirk, hands encircling your waist. It was sweet, and you look very cute standing next to him, in his embrace like that. A sight so beautiful. It is a shame when he remembers what exactly happened that night.

It was a very joyful day for Atsumu and for you but Atsumu didn’t even tell you about the match, you were only informed of the game because of Komori so the ticket you got is because Osamu gave up his ticket for you. He is tired of seeing Atsumu play volleyball and he can see it on his phone if he wants so he just gave it to you, saying you deserve it better. Even when you’re not informed about the game, you still showed up in the cutest little dress with the cutest little smell and the cutest bouquet of baby breath flowers for him.

Atsumu is not fond of flowers. He is not fond of surprises either. When you showed up on the court, congratulating him, he was shocked. He was busy talking to fangirls and kids who love volleyball until you call out his name with so much pride.

“Atsumu aaaa I am so proud of you! You worked so hard for this and I am sorry I don’t know of this sooner.” You hugged him and pat his back when you hugged him. Eyes glistening as you pulled away. Said the cries are happy tears. You told one of the passers-by to take a picture of you and Atsumu, resulting in the small piece of photography in his hand.

Later that night he went with his team and celebrated the debut together with them while you took off to your apartment, barely making it to the last bus of the night to get there safely, wishing you were with Atsumu in his car instead.

He turned the picture over. There is a long note there.

Might be the first ever picture with Atsumu, like ever. Nonetheless I am so happy and so proud of him it made my jaw hurt so much as I write this. I can’t stop smiling!!! I hope I can attend more of his games, more to his success, more time with him. I feel like I am the happiest person alive! I feel like one of the fantasy film protagonists where the person they have loved for a long time is within their arms, finally! I am so happy to have known Atsumu since the beginning days of school, how his charming and cunning personality, inspiring and charismatic figure would walk down the hallways of Inarizaki, I will always fall for him over and over again. I love him so much, and even if it takes a thousand years to wait for him I will always wait. Praying that this essay reaches the Gods because I love him too much, I don’t even want to let him go. I love Miya Atsumu, and I hope he feels the same thing too.

Atsumu pasted the picture back on the wall, turning off the study lamp and closing the door as he walked out. He sat on the couch in the living room, only having the kitchen light to illuminate the entire apartment. As he sat there, tears rolled off his eyes and loud sobs spilled out of his mouth.

He realised he is such a foolish man, living in a complete lie with an angel from heaven taking care of him despite getting paid dust in return. He cried so hard he took the pillow next to him and cried himself to sleep.

Day 154

If it is not for the bubbling and disturbing feeling in your stomach, you wouldn’t have gotten up and run to the bathroom to puke your guts out, but here you are. Smelling so stinky you just take a shower along the way. Fresh out of the shower in clean new clothes you saw a tall glass of water with your birth control pills right beside it. After downing the glass of water you headed to the kitchen to grab an aspirin to calm down the throbbing pain of your chest.

What you found instead is the sight of Atsumu, wearing an apron on top of his white t-shirt. It has been way too long since you have last seen him, and you didn’t expect to encounter him in your apartment, let alone him in the kitchen, preparing a breakfast for two. “Atsumu! What are you doing here!” you screamed audibly to him and got to the table to see a tray of rice and a bowl of soup on the table.

“Ah, ya woke up earlier than I thought ya would, was intending to make breakfast on bed like in that one cheesy film you love so much.” You blushed. You headed to the cupboard and popped the aspirin into your mouth with the assistance of the barley tea Atsumu prepared for you.

As you sat down awkwardly, he pulled out the rice bowl and put the tray in the sink and scooped another bowl of rice and soup for himself. He prepared a hearty meal for two, a miso soup to help you sober down and ease the gut after rounds of alcohol shots dumped in your body.

Right, you were drunk last night. “So why are you here?” you asked after spooning out the final drop of the miso soup. “You remember nothing at all?” Atsumu asked. “Wait...so...Midori didn’t lie?” you asked again. Just realising that Midori already told you that your boyfriend was there.

“Oh my god...how much did I say?” you pressed your palms on your face and dropped them to your lap. Atsumu smiles.

“You said a lot! You said too much that it made me learn a lot.” Atsumu reaches your hands the moment it gets on to the table. He clasped it with care and so much gentleness even when his hand is calloused and rough from the intense training for so many days in a week.

Atsumu sighs and hangs his head low. “I just realised that all this time, our relationship is one-sided” you gasped and the grip on his hands gets tighter. “I...took you for granted. I never gave you a comfort space to live in, a shoulder to cry on, and I have never...expressed my feelings for you.” You were trembling and Atsumu fully connected your fingers with his, interlacing it together hoping that neither of you will let it go.

“All this time you were always there for me, no matter what I was struggling with, no matter the time and place you would rush and hug me and tell me that it will be okay but I let you cry on your own whenever you deal with the same problem. I made a big mistake, and I swear to my life that I will make it up to you.” You got up from your seat and went to the sink along with your empty bowls. Atsumu got there too, hugging you from behind.

“I am so sorry for being late, I love you. I love you so much that it hurts when I see you get hurt because of me.” Atsumu hugged you like he would make you dissolve in his body, it was so tight and warm and comforting it felt like home.

Miya Atsumu is your home. You are his home. And so he kisses your hair, your neck, your shoulders to make sure you won’t disappear before him, to tell you that what he said is true.

You turned around. Holding his head in your hands.

“Atsumu, I love you too, and I missed you so much.” You smiled as the tears dropped, and Atsumu thinks this sight of yours hurts him as much as it makes his heart feel warm. It was a mixed feeling, but he knows that the perfect moment is right there, he holds your waist and your neck and kisses you on the lips with so much need and passion, to tell you that he loves you.

Your hands went to wrap itself on his neck, occasionally stopping by to run your hair through the blonde locks you love so much. He kisses in deeper and languid motion; it makes your head drowsy, worse than what the alcohol did to you but the sensation is nice. The alcohol was bitter and you hated it, this kiss tastes sweet and flavourful and you love it.

Atsumu continues while he carries you towards the bedroom he left you in alone last night, slowly putting your body on the messy bed who still has the scent of you from last night. It is supposed to gross you out but Atsumu is making it harder for you to breathe so nothing really matters, and Atsumu loves the scent as much as you love his oozing warmth that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He continues peppering kisses along your entire body, just like the night when you first spent together. Shirts off, pants off, underwear off. There’s nothing in the way of the both of you in the intense love-making session. Atsumu loves the way his name rolls on your tongue as he nibbles addictively on your neck, your chest and your tummy that is filled with the food he made for you, the love he had in store from his heart is delivered into you with so much ease. He plans to deliver some more as his kisses turn more passionate as the clock ticks, tongue intermingles and liquid drooling out of each other’s hot mouth.

Atsumu is already so eager to get inside you but he always has to prioritise you before him so he asked you. “Can I-can I get on with it now?” he asked, trying to recollect his breath at the same time while he looks for a particular wrapper in the drawer of your bedside table. “It’s fine, Atsumu, I’m on birth control.” You smiled at him and he smiled back, caressing your cheeks, touching your lips and tucking your hair behind your cute ears he loved to kiss so much. “You know, you mistook the birth control pills for aspirin that’s why I rummaged through the whole cupboard to look for one.” You gave him a glare so cute he continues kissing you. “My bad, baby. Can I get in now?” He asked with a teasing little smirk displayed on his stupidly handsome face.

“Yes, you can Atsumu.” You kissed him on the cheeks and hugged his neck as he entered. Inches by inches you sucked him in and he would kiss your temple to make you feel better after the stretch. The time away clearly made a lot of changes between the two of you, and it all makes this event more admirable than the ones before, because of the heartfelt confession you shared with him in the morning. All he wants to do is kiss your body like it is the only thing in this world worth worshipping. You are the most beautiful thing that ever happened in his life anyway, and he would never regret anything in his life anymore.

After the both of you peaked, he released into you, stayed there for a few minutes and took it out after he finally made your deep furrowed eyebrows disappear. You finally relax after the soothing time with your dearest one and he plopped himself next to you.

Atsumu opened his arms and you found him inside it, getting smooches here and there as he hugged you. He would play with your hair, draw stars on the naked back of yours, and you would draw circles on his chest as you listen to the small heart beat in him.

His heart was beating because of you.

“Hey, that noise in there is because of ya.” Atsumu kissed you on the forehead.

“Oh really, yer not special, Miya, listen to mine!” you said with a glare after hitting him playfully on his chest.

“Uhuh...can I kiss it? Like this?” Atsumu continues his attack on your chest and you laughed loudly as he starts skimming his fingers on your waist and your tummy. He was smiling and laughing into the attack.

Atsumu thinks that even if it is true that he is a fool, at least he is a fool that is so foolishly in love with you.

#Miya Atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu angst #haikyuu x reader #atsumu angst #atsumu reader #atsumu reader smut

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise!

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you. MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai: MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something: MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult.

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest. (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

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woodrokiro · 3 years

Text

Bar Service (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Bartenders--especially bartenders around the corner from her apartment--are strictly off limits. Restaurant AU. Written for @ichirukimonth . TW warning for mentioned child abuse.

She doesn’t think much of the restaurant a few blocks away from her new apartment.

She always passes it to and from her work commute, of course. Maybe from time to time she glanced over, musing how it looks cute enough--a great place to take a date or some friends....

Before Rukia remembers: 1. She doesn’t have the time or capacity to date, and 2. She has no friends here yet… And probably won’t for a while, considering her lifelong difficulty making them in the first place.

It’s fine by her, honestly. She likes throwing everything she has into her job, loves doing her best to earn a smile or laugh from her patients. That’s enough social interaction for her, and at the end of the day she can go home, pour a glass of wine, switch the television on to some silly drama and order takeout without mourning the “loss” of a Friday night.

So for the first few months that she’s living in Karakura: no. She doesn’t even think about stepping foot in Amore e Morte.

Until she gets a particularly bad case at work.

The fact that it was a foster child case alone makes her heart hurt--but of course, there’s always more with these sort of situations.

A little girl named Hina, aged eight but looking so much smaller waiting there in her office. The social worker sitting with her--a woman named Rangiku, who Rukia knows a little and actually quite likes--squeezes Hina’s tiny hand before pulling Rukia to the side, quietly explaining the situation.

Physical abuse from her former home where she had been for a year. Her teacher kept noticing bruises in odd places and finally called CPS, who did nothing for two months before the behavior escalated and Hina ended up in the ER.

Her new foster mom is a real nice lady, says she hasn’t been acting out or anything but… Rangiku shrugs, flashing a reassuring smile when the little girl looks their way. You know.

She knows.

So Rukia does what she does best: she goes to the little girl, introduces herself by her first name, and focuses on her work until she can sob angrily in her car at lunch break.

And when her workday is done, when her emotions are fried and she’d really like a drink or three anywhere but her lonely apartment--she sees the restaurant’s sign, glowing warmly in the dusk light.

Amore e Morte. Love and death. A weird name for a restaurant, she thinks, and wonders if the owners either don’t know Italian and thought the name was cool or are just uppity snobs.

If you’d stop being so cynical you might go out and actually enjoy life. She can practically hear Renji’s voice scoffing in her ear now.

She parks her car at home before walking back over to the restaurant.

The outside of the restaurant is nice enough, but the inside is… Well. Lovely.

Brick walls painted white make the entire place look minimalist yet cozy. A couple of trendy paintings hanging sparsely through the restaurant makes the environment chic, but not overbearing. A few hanging lanterns bring just enough light to let everyone see where they’re going, but otherwise candles are utilized at each of the tables for a romantic touch.

Rukia sees by the sheer number of couples there that it is indeed a good place to bring a date.

And by the looks of one dish smelling deliciously of chicken and bell peppers that passes her by in a waiter’s hand, the food isn’t too bad either. Rukia’s mouth waters.

“A table for one, miss?”

Rukia startles from her musings, feeling rather silly as the bright and cheery hostess smiles patiently back.

“Oh! No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to take up one of your tables. Do you have bar seating?”

“Of course! Right this way.”

The hostess leads her into an adjacent room that sits tucked away from the main dining room. There’s still a couple of tables in this room, and two of the eight bar stools are occupied but it’s so much quieter here, the noise of the dining room a mere buzz. She breathes a small sigh of relief as she takes the stool at the far end. She wanted to be out and about, just… Not that out and about.

“Our bartender Kurosaki-kun will be taking care of you. I believe he’s just in the back talking to Chef, he should be right back.”

Rukia thanks her, taking a glance at the menu.

She quickly finds out Chef Yasutora Sado’s menu inspiration is Mexican-Japanese fusion cuisine, which is… Interesting, considering the restaurant’s name is Italian. In any case, she’s fascinated. Rukia by no account considers herself a foodie, but the thought of blending traditional Japanese dishes with Mexican spices and turning them into something like sukiyaki tacos makes her stomach growl.

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?”

Her gaze flickers from the menu to the well-toned arm extended out toward her, pouring a glass of water. Her eyes move up the arm to the man it’s attached to.

A handsome guy, she’ll admit: if it wasn’t for the obviously bleached orange hair, the sword tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, and the fact that he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If she had to pick him out from a crowd, there’s no doubt she’d know him as a bartender. What a walking cliche.

“Yes, I’ll take--” She didn’t even take a glance at the drink menu. She looks down quickly. “Sorry. Can I get a matcha mojito?”

He nods, his hands suddenly flying through liquors and shakers and mixes to make her drink. “You ready for food, too?”

“Any recommendations?”

“Everything.”

She snorts. She’d be irritated by the subpar service if it wasn’t for his small smirk at her response.

“Seriously, everything’s good here. If you get something you don’t like, drinks are on me.”

“Risky.” Rukia lifted an eyebrow. “You place that bet with every customer?”

“Every single one.”

She highly doubts that, but she appreciates the trust in his workplace nonetheless. She orders a couple of small plates, and he tends to his other drink orders while she sips her own.

The food, when it comes out, is… Infuriatingly good. Infuriating because she would have loved to have scored a couple free drinks off the arrogant punk bartender, but she’ll have to swallow her pride because the sukiyaki taco is absolute divinity. She sips her second drink, already accepting that she’s gonna have to admit to him she’ll be paying full price for everything she ordered.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like she’ll have a chance to gloat. From what she hears next door, dinner service has picked up and with that: drink orders. He’s doing as well as he can--hands expertly flying through the liquors, garnishing the cocktails with an expert flourish before passing them on to a server--but she can tell he’s feeling the stress, particularly when he reads his second to last ticket in the rush.

“Fuck,” she hears as he rolls his eyes, stalking over to the wine cabinet. A server comes by, concerned.

“You need anything, Ichigo?”

He waves a hand, not turning to look at his coworker. “No, no I’m fine. Just annoying when I don't open a bottle before rush, that’s all.”

The server scuttles off to tend to her tables while Rukia watches him bang a (very expensive looking) wine bottle on the counter, clumsily ripping into the foil with an opener. At one point he cuts his thumb, and he half-hazardly wraps a paper napkin around it while he tries helplessly to pull the cork up. The wine opener doesn’t grip the bottle steadily a couple of times, she waits on baited breath to see if he’ll break the bottle. After a few dangerous-looking test runs, he manages to hoist the cork up, cursing out a “fucking finally” at the sound of the cork popping.

The whole thing must have taken ten minutes.

Maybe it’s the matcha mojitos finally hitting her, but she can’t help it. She laughs.

He shoots her a wild look and she covers her chuckles with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not--it’s not funny. I just… That was the most atrocious opening of a wine bottle I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo stares for a moment before scoffing, turning back to his (finally opened) bottle and pours the wine into a glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t do wine service here, lady.”

“Excuse me? That’s ridiculous. You’re a bartender.”

“Exactly. Bartender. I do cocktails, not fancy wine stuff.”

“Let me guess, you consider yourself a mixologist.”

“Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” He’s shaking his head as he moves on to his next order, but oddly enough Rukia feels like she knows he’s suddenly having a good time. “Like I said, I don’t do wine etiquette and all that. That’s for the servers.”

“I’m just… It’s hard to believe you’ve made it this far in a nicer restaurant’s bar without knowing how to open wine.”

“Not that far. I’ve been here for like, six months.” He shrugs at her inquisitive stare. “Old buddies with the chef. I bar backed in college where he was a line cook, so… And if he ever got sick of me, my sister is his sous chef. Then again, she’s more likely to fire me than he is, the brat.”

“Especially with you not knowing how to open a fine vintage.”

“Get over it. When it’s not busy I get one of the servers to help me.” He looks down, having seemingly forgotten about his paper toweled thumb. “Shit. Hang on, I gotta get a bandaid from the back--”

“I have some, if you want.” Rukia starts digging through her purse. “If there’s not some restaurant code for the kind of bandage you’re supposed to use, of course.”

“If it looks neater than a shoddy paper towel job, ‘should be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Here.”

He stares at her outstretched hand. She stares back, getting more irritated as she waits.

“What?”

“... It’s a Chappy bandaid.”

“So?”

“So why are you a grown ass woman carrying around Chappy bandaids?”

“They’re for my patients, for kids.” She’s telling the truth, technically. To say she also quite enjoys Chappy as a character does not need to be mentioned. “Do you want it or not? Swallow your manly pride or go looking for an ugly beige bandage while your tickets pile up again. Tick tock.”

“Fine! All right, already.” He takes the bandaid and starts unpeeling the paper adhesive. “You a pediatrician or something?”

“Child psychologist.” Suddenly Rukia remembers Hina’s sweet face and feels terrible for not thinking about her once this entire dinner.

“Jesus.” Ichigo’s shaking his head, pressing Chappy to his cut.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a weird response to her revealing her profession, but Rukia can’t help it. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

If he’s uncomfortable with her sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He shrugs. “It’s just… I can imagine it’s a hard job. Sometimes, anyway.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she exhales. “I’m sorry, I--yes. It can be, yes.I just… That sort of response I’ve only ever gotten from people that don’t believe in the importance of mental health. ‘Shrink talk’ and what have you.”

“Nah, I believe it.” He’s finished his job of covering his wound and moved on to his next drink order.

She’s abashedly stirring the ice in her glass when she barely hears him say: “I had to go to a children’s therapist once, as a kid. Helped me a lot.”

She raises her head to look at him. He hasn’t changed his facial expression, nor is there any change to his body language as he continues to do his job--but as a psychologist, Rukia can’t help but wonder whether she’s the first person he’s ever told this to.

“Me too. When I was a child, I… A therapist had helped me, too.” She raises her glass and clears her throat. “To recognizing childhood trauma, I suppose.”

He lets out a short laugh at the sudden dark joke, a sound so quick and so… So nice she can’t stop the fleeting thought that it’s a sound she’d like to hear more of. She shoves it away.

Bartenders are absolutely off limits.

He raises the glass that he’s mixing a cocktail in. “Yeah. Cheers.”

Later when she finally picks up the check, she pauses.

“Excuse me.” She waves Ichigo down, maybe just a tad tipsy. “You got the check wrong.”

He frowns, taking the bill from her and scanning it. “What are you…”

“You forgot to put a drink on there. My third one.”

It clicks and he rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“It’s on me.” He slides the receipt back to her.

“But I didn’t dislike any of the dishes!”

“Take some advice, will you Doc? If the restaurant staff didn’t put something on your bill and you still got it, chances are: we wanted to give it to you.” They lock eyes for an intense moment before he clears his throat, looks down to wipe his (suspiciously clean) bar. “‘To childhood trauma,’ and all that. Now stop yapping so loud about it. You want everyone in the restaurant to hear about me giving out free stuff?”

She shuts her mouth at that, but one small detail about what he said is bothering her.

“It’s not ‘Doc,’ so you know. I have a name. It’s Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki.”

“Okay. Whatever, Rukia.” He turns around and waves his hand. “And I’m Ichigo. Just pay your damn bill and come back soon or whatever.”

And with that: she guesses she has a new spot.

#bleach #ichiruki #irmonth2021 #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #my stuff #may or may not be multi chapter if I'm being reeeal #but this was fun so maybe

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all-things-mlqc · 3 years

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I‘m not really far in the game but I know that every boy except Shaw, met MC/Us when they were younger. Do you think, they would‘ve love MC even if she wasn‘t this girl from their childhood and didn‘t have the Queen power? And btw what is even the queen power exactly. Like I said I‘m not far in the main story and I saw MC in a black dress etc

Hi there! I will do my best to explain my thoughts without mentioning any major spoilers for you since it’s always nice reading the plot for yourself! (I will be sure to give spoiler warnings before talking about it)

To start off, we should talk about the Queen’s power. It’s a bit confusing to us even to this day but what we can gather from what we have so far, game and anime wise, she has the ability to make other evolvers stronger. She’s somewhat of a battery or power source for all evolvers if that makes sense? Evolvers are still able to use their evols without her but she can “lend” people strength.

As for whether or not the boys would still lover her regardless of her evol, it’s hard to say for a few simply because her evol was the reason she met 2 out of the 4 of them. So if she didn’t have an evol, it’s likely she wouldn’t have met Kiro or Victor in the first place. But, hypothetically, let’s say that they did meet the same way and she did not have the Queen’s gene, then yes, I believe both Kiro and Victor would’ve still fallen in love with her.

Slight spoilers for Kiro’s past (how they met): Kiro and MC were both tested on as kids. Kiro is younger than MC and was frightened and confused at the time. He didn’t know much because he was so young when tested on by Black Swan. In fact, he 100% didn’t know MC had the Queen gene. He was simply way too young to understand or know that. He found a girl close to his age and wanted to get closer to her because she brought him comfort. It was the day he met her that he promised he would always protect her and he has continued to fulfill that promise. She was in a worse condition than he was when they were being tested on but still smiled and comforted him. With that being said, yes, it’s likely he would’ve still fallen in love with her because she brought him so much comfort and happiness during hard times regardless of her being the Queen.

Slight spoilers for Victor’s past (how they met): Similar to Kiro’s, both Victor and MC were together when Black Swan had taken them as “test subjects”. Victor met MC at a park where she was balling her eyes out as per usual. Good job MC and comforted her with pudding. Tbh, baby Victor reminds me of Killua from Hunter x Hunter. Anywho, it seems like Victor knew MC was an evolver just like him and he felt the need to watch over her because of what they both were. While he probably knew she was an evolver, it’s likely he didn’t know she was the “Queen” since he was so young. Well, Black Swan caught up with them and took them both into custody and that’s when the escape we see in game happens as well as how they were separated. It confirms in the anime that Victor’s number one goal all his life was to find that girl again. Everything he had done up to this point was for MC. I’m not really sure if he originally decided to keep searching for her because he felt responsible or if there was more to how he felt for her. Considering she did risk her life for his own, it could go either way. But it is clear that he does care for her whether or not she’s the “Queen”. He did know she had an evol but that’s all he knew.

Kiro and Victor seemed more like a traumatic experience bringing them closer which is a common way of bringing people together. If they had not met that way because MC didn’t have the Queen gene, then I’m not sure what would’ve happened.

On to Gavin, my sweet sweet Gavin. Answer is yes. 100%. Man is head over heels for this girl. He looked at her once, pointed, and said “that’s my wife”. Literally. With Gavin’s high school reputation as the frightening “overlord”, everyone was constantly scared of him. Nobody would talk to him or want to be around him because of the terrible rumors going around. How he’s always picking fights, stealing money, this and that. Long story short, none of that is true. He’s actually a vigilante of some sort but he doesn’t care to explain himself because nobody would believe him anyway. So he lived his life being feared. At least up until he met MC for the first time.

Slight spoilers for Gavin’s past (how they met): It was a rainy day and Gavin was walking around in the rain in an alley when he suddenly saw a girl squatting down, shielding a box from the rain with her own body. Gavin looked a bit closer and realized there was a kitten in the box. The girl was quietly talking to the kitten when she felt someone’s eyes on her. She turned to Gavin and then gave him a small smile. The only smile someone has given Gavin in years. The only light and comfort he had felt in so long. Not to mention his family situation. There’s a whole lot going on there if you haven’t read about it yet Because this feeling was new to Gavin, he got flustered and looked away, kicking a can on the ground in hope of a distraction. The girl continued to care for the kitten in the box only to feel a jacket being draped across her shoulders. Unable to thank him in time, MC watched as Gavin jogged across the street in only his shirt as the rain came down harder. I. Love. This. MAN. Ever since that day, Gavin found himself looking for her at school. He watched her silently and helped her whenever she needed it he helped grab a book from the top shelf when she couldn’t reach it. Coincidence he is always there when she needs it? I think NOT. He was smitten for her. Without knowing anything about her other than her kindness, he was a little puppy dog following her around to preserve the light in her. He is, what we all know and love, a SIMP. I STAN ONE MAN AND IT IS THIS SIMP THAT WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HER. Anywho, time goes by, he’s her guardian angel throughout high school and then finds out about her identity in the evolver world from his father who is in a law enforcement group that deals specifically with evolvers. I mean, gestures to Gavin. The man wanted a child with a strong evol. After Gavin found out about who she was, he knew he would need more to protect her and that’s why he became a cop. Yes, this man became a cop just so he could protect the girl he loved. SO TO SUM IT UP, YES. He already fell in love with her without knowing she was an evolver so 100% yes.

Slight spoilers for Lucien as well: As for Lucien, I feel as if his position is a bit more complex. He knew MC when she was younger as well but it seemed like they had more of a friendship rather than him caring for her romantically. The reason why Lucien is originally so intrigued by her (grown up) is because he sees her in color. Lucien is color blind so when he was able to see her drenched in bright vivid colors, he was immediately interested in her. Though I don’t know if he was romantically interested in her in the beginning or if he was just curious, he obviously grew feelings for her later when he decided to protect her and somewhat betray Black Swan. In later chapters, he makes it very clear he was in the wrong with how he saw the world and after making “necessary” sacrifices and realized how much he truly cares about MC. So as far as would he love her without her being the “Queen”, I’m really not sure. The reason they are so close in the first place is because she IS the Queen. But being able to see her in color is probably enough for him to want to get closer to her.

And finally we have the himbo punk boy Shaw. I’m not sure how much you know about Shaw but I am warning you now that there are going to be mentions of his past which DO contain some heavy spoilers.

Shaw is the odd man out, yes. He’s introduced later in the story and actually has a very interesting role. You mentioned you saw MC in a dark dress. Spoiler alert: That is who we call “dark MC”. And it seems as if Shaw has ties with her and is possibly(?) working with her. Then again, Shaw is actually a lone wolf himself. He does what he finds to be entertaining and benefits him. He went against his father’s orders (which is very hot because I hate that man. Eat shit military man) and has his own way of gathering information. He is very good at making relationships with people to gather intel and have people he can use if needed all the while keeping his distance. Shaw very likely only has a relationship with MC because of his line of work. It seems as if he’s actually manipulating her in a way to go according to his own plan that involves dark MC. So far, in my opinion, it doesn’t seem like Shaw has any romantic feelings for MC in the main plot. He’s just interested in her because she spices up his life with chaos and he feeds off of stimulation. Though, I am excited to see how their relationship progresses and what he decides to do when he has to choose between the two sides of MC. There are small signs of Shaw caring more about MC in later chapters now but the man is just in denial because hE dOesNt hAvE aNy wEaKneSsEs.

I hope this helps explain a few things as well as my own thoughts on their relationships if MC wasn’t the Queen. Thanks for the ask!

#mlqc #mr. love queen's choice #mr. love #mlqc gavin #mlqc shaw #mlqc kiro #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc spoilers #asks #hope this helps!

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master-sass-blast · 3 years

Text

Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter Two.

I had to input every single italic you see in this fic by hand because Tumblr doesn’t hold text format when I paste it innnnnn. *pained smile*

Please give this chapter some love, because that was fucking painful to do.

Summary: The aftermath of capturing Allison proves messy -both in dealing with the teen's evident trauma, and in all the skeletons in various closets that get unleashed soon after.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Frank Castle x Karen Page, and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Rating: M for gun violence, depictions of death and injuries, depictions of emotional trauma, and gratuitous use of the word “fuck.”

Word count: 8.9k.

Set after “Children of the Gods: Part Three, Chapter One.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

“What the hell were you thinking!”

“Ooh, careful there, Doohan,” Wade snarks, head rolling to indicate he’s rolling his eyes. “Get any more agitated and you’ll be saying all the no-no words.”

Scott scowls at Wade. “Stuff it, Wilson.”

“Every damn night, laser pointer.”

A mixture of grimaces, sighs, and groans go up through the crowd.

You’re all gathered in the medical wing of Xavier’s –the X-Force and nearly all of the X-Men. Allison’s off being examined by Dr. McCoy and Alyssa –to make sure she’s stable enough to be taken out of the handcuffs and the suppression band—and Frank and Karen are sequestered in a separate room until it's clear how everything's going to shake out.

Because, naturally, there’s been a wrench thrown in the situation.

Or maybe the whole damn toolbox, you mentally amend as Wade and Scott resume arguing.

“We cannot harbor a mob criminal here—”

“She’s thirteen, Summers!” Wade snaps. The eyes on his mask narrow into slits. “She’s not a criminal –and her parents’ choice don’t automatically make her guilty!”

“Murder, illegal theft and possession of firearms, assault, stalking, kidnapping,” Scott starts listing, ticking off each of Allison’s misdeeds on his fingers.

“She lost her family,” Nathan interjects, voice going to gravel. “Where the fuck were all of you when she needed support? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

The room goes silent. Many of the X-Men members look away or hang their heads slightly.

“We had no way of knowing that Allison was a mutant,” Ororo speaks up. “Without the proper information, we can’t help. It’s unfortunate, yes, but out of our control all the same.”

“But you know now,” Wade argues. “You knew with Russell. You knew with all the kids at Essex house. You turned your back on him and those kids, just like you’re turning your back on Allison now.” He scoffs, disgusted. “Same shit, different day. You’re all a bunch of cowardly cocksuckers.”

“We do have limits,” Professor Xavier speaks up from his chair. “Russell and the other members of Essex house were considered wards of the state. Legally, that meant Essex house had custody of them until they turned eighteen. We wrote petitions. We did as much as we could to bring attention to the issue. Unfortunately, it got swept under the rug or stonewalled by anti-mutant members of the legal system. As for Allison…” He sighs. “Taking in wards with criminal connections put the school at risk. Not just for fear of retaliation –as would certainly be a risk with Miss Ricci’s connections to the mafia—but also our funding and licensing. As an orphaned mutant, she is certainly deserving of our help—” he pauses to glare sternly at Scott and a few of the more stubborn, self-righteous members present “—but we have to consider the needs of our other residents and students, too.”

“I think we’re overlooking that Allison is here right now,” Jean pipes up. “Whether or not she stays with us is one thing, but we need to decide what to do for at least the next forty-eight hours.”

“She stays here,” you say automatically. “As far as we know, she has no other guardians, potentially even nowhere to go. I don’t think it’s gonna kill us to give her a bed and some food to eat.”

“Absolutely not,” Scott fires back –and, behind him, Angel and Iceman nod. “She’s far too aggressive to possibly put the students at risk.”

“She’s agitated and traumatized,” you reason, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to lash out at people left and right.”

“Doesn’t she have a guardian of sorts?” Neena pipes up. “Artemis? Has anyone gotten ahold of them?”

“We reached out with the number Miss Ricci gave us,” Xavier explains. “The call picked up, but there wasn’t any verbal response for the duration of the call.”

Well, that bodes well. “What about her attorney?” you ask. “If we can’t keep her here, wouldn’t her attorney be able to arrange some sort of safe place for her to stay.”

“Thus far, we haven’t been able to reach her attorney.”

And that bodes even worse. You fight the urge to sigh or roll your eyes, and instead mentally curse monkey wrenches and whoever thought to invent the damn things.

“For the time being, I’ve contacted some of our external resources” –the glance Xavier shoots at both you and Piotr tells you that it’s your uncle and Alexandra—“to help with matters until the dust settles. They should be arriving soon, so—”

There’s a loud crash from down the hall, the sound of glass shattering, and an angry screech that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck you, Castle!”

You give into the urge to sigh before booking it towards the sound of chaos and rage. Great. Now it’s an entire toolshed.

***

Subduing Allison this time, at least, is easier for several reasons.

First, she’s still wearing the repression cuff on her wrist. Without her powers –without a way to pop in and out of this existence, specifically—she’s much easier to catch.

Second, she’s tired. It’s not just the bags under her eyes or the sweat glistening at her furrowed brow. She’s stumbling unevenly, panting as she tries to exact her revenge.

Third, Illyana happens to show up at the exact same time with your uncle and Alexandra (and Nikolai as well, though he has less involvement in the “subduing process”).

Alex reacts fastest. She hooks one strong arm around Allison’s waist, then scoops her away from Karen and a hangdog-looking Frank. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Allison, however, doesn’t seem to agree. (Though whether it’s due to general teenage contrariness or trauma-induced rage, the jury’s still out.

…Actually, it’s probably both.)

“You don’t even get it, Castle!” Allison snaps with a manic grin, eyes wide and haunted. “You killed a good man. My dad was getting out! He was going to testify against them—”

Alex clamps a hand over the teen’s mouth, making her cut herself off with a garbled grunt. “I said enough.”

Allison thrashes in the older woman’s iron-clad grasp –to no avail, unsurprisingly. Her face scrunches up, then her jaw starts flexing. There’s a moment where her expression goes slack when Alex doesn’t react, then her nose scrunches up again and her jaw starts working harder.

Alex sighs, then starts carrying Allison back down the hall (she’s astonishingly unfazed by been chomped down on). “Come on. Let’s get you calmed down, malen’kiy.”

At the other end of the hall, Neena pokes her head into the fray. “Someone who calls herself Artemis is at the front door.”

Professor Xavier nods, then says, “Please escort her back to Miss Ricci’s room,” before wheeling after Alex and Artemis.

You look between Neena and the Professor –then, in the interest of going where you’re actually allowed to be (and not being bored out of your mind because you’ll be literally shut out of the room), you head towards the foyer.

…

“Do you think Frank was set up to stop the trial?”

Your uncle shrugs; the two of you have taken up a spot at the back of the room, where you can watch things unfold and gossip like the two old ladies you are in spirit. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that it was retribution for Allison being a mutant. The Ricci syndicate is notoriously… intolerant.”

You grimace. You certainly understand just how far people will go against their own flesh and blood for intolerance’s sake. “Blood and water.”

Your uncle nods, expression equally sour. “You fucking said it, punk.”

There’s not much point in hashing it out any further –both from the standpoint of “forbidden knowledge” and digging up old trauma—so you settle back into watching Artemis go through the mandatory security check.

She’s tall, with broad shoulders. Her hair’s dark, just starting to streak with silver at the temples, and her eyes are deep, intense, borderline black color. Her nose is slightly crooked –comes with the territory in this walk of life—and she’s dressed in black motorcycle wear and combat boots.

She honestly looks so fucking familiar.

You frown, brows pinching together as you try and place her face in your memory. Failing your own abilities at recollection, you lean over and whisper, “Is she one of your team members? I swear I’ve seen her before.”

“Uh –no,” your uncle replies (and it’s too fast and shaky, but you’re too caught up in figuring out whom the fuck you’re looking at to notice). “I mean –everyone has a doppelganger, right?”

“I guess.” You squint at Artemis, as though physically narrowing your eyes will help your brain puzzle things out—

And then Alex strides into the foyer –wiping the hand that Allison bit, and if you look close enough you’re pretty sure you can still see a few bloody teeth marks—and the cloud of confusion lifts from your mind.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly. “That’s why she looks familiar! She looks like Alex.” You look from the Rasputin matriarch, to the other black-leather clad woman, then back again. “She looks… a lot like Alex, actually.” You laugh softly –coincidence is a hell of a thing—then keep rambling when your uncle doesn’t say anything. “Two women who love the color black and carry enough weapons on their person to stock an army. You’d think the universe broke the mold with Alex, huh?”

Your uncle shifts from foot to foot next to you, but says nothing.

“You really weren’t kidding about the whole ‘doppelganger’ thing, huh.” You cock your head to one side, then frown as another epiphany starts growing in your mind. “Actually… she kind of looks like you, too.”

Your uncle makes a quiet, pained choking noise. “Punk—”

“Yeah, she’s got more of your build…”

“Punk.”

“And her lower lip has that weird lopsided curve like yours—”

“Punk—”

You peer closer at Artemis’s face. “Actually, her nose looks like you took yours and Alex’s and mashed them together—”

“Punk.”

You finally look up at him and take in the pale, wide-eyed, tight-lipped expression on his face. “What?” When he doesn’t say anything, you look at Artemis, then Alex, and then back at him—

Oh God.

Holy fucking shit.

You stare up at your uncle, agape. “Wait a second –you and—”

“Okay, shut the fuck up!” he hisses, panicked, before dragging you out of the foyer and into the nearest hallway.

“You and Alex had a baby,” you blurt –albeit in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. “Artemis is your and her lovechild!”

He winces, then holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“I don’t think you can!” you hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me that I have a cousin who happens to be my husband’s half fucking sister! Oh God, does Piotr know? Do any of the Rasputins know?”

“I…” He trails off, then cringes. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure, actually.”

You stare up at him, dumbfounded. “You’re not sure. How are you not sure? Nick knows who you are –what, you think Alex just kept a whole child from his knowledge—”

“I mean, he probably knows that there was a baby at one point—”

“The baby is in this fucking house!” you snap in a quiet growl, arms flailing wildly. “She’s a full grown adult who probably pays taxes and has a 401k going! Why wouldn’t Alex tell her husband—”

“Look,” your uncle interjects, cutting you off. “As far as Alex knows… she thinks she’s… dead?”

You gape. Then, as quietly as you can manage (given the circumstances), you exclaim, “What the fuck!”

“Keep your voice down!” your uncle hisses, gesturing wildly in panic. He looks over his shoulder, then when he’s certain no one overheard you, he sighs and looks back to you. “Look, it’s a long story—”

“I’m sure it fucking is!” You cross your arms over your chest when he winces. “How is it that you know your secret lovechild is alive, but Alex doesn’t? What, did she just abandon her?”

“No, no—”

“Didn’t think so. So what the fuck happened?”

He sighs, shoulder slumping, and runs one hand through his already disheveled hair. “Look –long story short, the people who ‘made’ Alex took the baby—”

“Artemis. Her daughter. Your daughter.”

He purses his lips, but concedes with a nod. “They took her away after she was born and told Alex she was dead –and that’s actually what prompted her to get out, but that’s another story for another day—”

“Okay, hang on a second.” You squeeze your eyes shut and hold up one hand. “Alex thinks her baby is dead –probably one of the most traumatic things in her whole life. You’ve known that she’s alive…” You open your eyes again and fix your uncle with a stern stare. “Okay, how long have you known for?”

He grimaces and shifts uncomfortably. “…well, the US took her, but she didn’t present early, so they turned her loose into the foster system because she didn’t have potential as an ‘asset’—”

“How fucking long?”

He ducks his head, carefully avoiding your gaze. “…tracked her down when she was ten.”

Your eyes widen –and then you slug him in the shoulder. “You fucking colossal asshole!”

He panics again, motioning for you to keep it down while checking over his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”

“No! Not only have you lied to Alex for decades—”

“She never asked—”

“A lie by omission is still a fucking lie!” you snap in a gravelly whisper. “So, not only did you lie to her, but you also abandoned your daughter to the mercies of the US foster care system!”

“My life wasn’t safe to keep a kid around!” he hisses back at you. “I couldn’t take care of you, and I couldn’t take care of her! If anything, it was safer for her if the government thought I didn’t know she was alive!”

You sigh, pinch the bridge of your nose, and wave dismissively with your other hand. “Okay –fine. That still doesn’t justify the whole lying thing, but whatever. Does Artemis know that you and Alex are her parents?”

“…Yes. She tracked me down when she was in her twenties and I told her the truth.”

“Well, it sounds like determination runs in the family,” you mutter. “But at least you two have kept in touch…” You look up, see your uncle’s grimace, and sigh. “You didn’t keep in touch with her.”

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Pretty sure ‘not like that’ is a good answer.” You sigh again, then shrug and put your hands on your hips. “Well, you’ve probably solved your own problem. She’ll probably just tell Alex who she is just to spite you, assuming she got the ‘petty vengeance’ gene too.”

Your uncle’s eyebrows spike to his hairline, and his expression goes through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. “She –she can’t—”

“She can and she probably will.”

He hunches over, crouching, and grips the back of his head. “Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck—”

“Myshka?”

You and your uncle both jump, then whirl in unison and give your husband your best convincing, “we’re totally not talking about long lost, hidden family members and other poor life choices” smiles that you can each manage.

(Consider that you don’t look like you just shit your pants, you win.)

Piotr’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “What… is everything alright?”

“Just fine, baby,” you assure him, subtly kicking your uncle so he relaxes. “Just talking about what happens next.”

Piotr nods after a moment, likely picking up on that whatever’s going on right now isn’t life or death and that you’ll fill him in later. “I actually came to find you,” he says, gesturing to your uncle. “Professor Xavier still cannot reach Allison’s lawyer. He has asked for your assistance.”

“Right. Absolutely. On it,” your uncle says with a none-too-convincing smile. He shoots your husband a pair of finger guns, then books it out of the hall and towards the medical wing of the mansion.

Piotr stares after him, then shoots you a confused frown. “Is he okay?”

You shrug. “He’s doing about his usual.” You decide to further sidestep the issue by ambling over to him and giving him a gentle hug. “How are you?” Are doing okay?”

Piotr wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “I am fine now. Just a little sore.”

“Me too.” You nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest. “We really should invest in that hot tub we keep talking about getting. It’d be great for post-mission recovery.”

“Hot tubs are expensive, myshka,” he chuckles.

“Yes, but we’re not getting any younger. It’d be a good investment in taking care of our bodies.” You tilt your head back and grin up at him. “I thought you were all about that life.”

He sighs and shakes his head, feigning exasperation, but his amused smile is a dead giveaway. “Whatever shall I do with you, myshka?”

You grin wider. “You could kiss me.”

Piotr grins back, then dips his head and presses his lips against yours—

Mikhail appears next to you out of thin air. “Ah. Gross. Big meeting is happening. All hands on deck.”

Piotr rolls his eyes when his elder brother teleports away once more, then looks back down at you and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, baby.” You unwind your arms from his massive trunk of a torso, then slide your fingers between his as the two of you walk towards the medical wing.

…

“—I am telling you, Charles, not being able to reach this kid’s lawyer is a bad fucking sign.”

You and Piotr walk into a conference room to find your uncle and Professor Xavier locked in a heated argument.

Wade, Nate, and Neena are leaning against the table to watch, occasionally leaning over to whisper bits of commentary to each other (or, in Wade’s case, speak at normal volume).

In the corner of the room, where a couple of armchairs are positioned, Nikolai sits with his two other children; they’re speaking in hushed Russian, but none of them seem too concerned about everything else going on.

“As I previously stated,” Xavier says, words clipped, “we cannot release Miss Ricci without speaking first to her attorney. The X-Men operate as a special law enforcement service, and failure to comply with criminal and civil statutes will have enormous consequences for the Institute—”

“There’s going to be a bunch of fucking ‘enormous consequences’ for the Institute,” your uncle interrupts, growling through clenched teeth, “if you don’t evacuate this building right fucking now! Fuck’s sake, Charles –you hired me as a security advisor; just listen to me.”

Piotr frowns and curls one hand over your shoulder. “What is happening?”

“What’s happening,” a new, strong, feminine voice interjects from the hall, “is that we’re leaving.” Artemis shoulders past your husband –a feat not easily achieved by many—with Allison in tow, then holds up the teen’s arm that has the repression cuff still attached. She glares at Xavier (and God, she really looks like Alex when she does that), then spits out through gritted, bared teeth, “Get this fucking thing off my kid.”

There’s a longsuffering sigh in the hall, and then Alex steps into the doorway. “She has that cuff on for her own safety –as I already told you—”

Artemis whirls, face contorted by a vicious scowl, and snaps, “I didn’t fucking ask for you input!”

(Boy, if that doesn’t just scream ‘repressed trauma and mommy issues.’)

Your uncle looks like he’s about to pass out again, but Alex seems remarkably nonplussed. She merely raises one eyebrow at Artemis, as if to say ‘that’s all you got?’

There’s no way she knows, you think as you watch the two stare each other down. Not with how much she cares about her kids. There’s no fucking way—

“Actually, we’ve got bigger problems,” your uncle pipes up, voice quavering slightly before he clears his throat. “We can’t reach your kid’s shark.”

“They have other clients,” Artemis retorts, upper lip curling in a derisive sneer. Her dark eyes smolder with barely constrained hatred as she tosses a withering glance in his direction (daddy issues, too, this chick won the whole lottery). “Or maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

Your uncle narrows his eyes at that (and now the two of them look so much alike, overcome by ire as they are). “You cannot possibly be that fucking stupid.”

Artemis sucks a breath through her teeth, eyes widening with rage and hurt. “You fucking dick—”

In the corner of the room, Illyana bolts upright before going stock still. Then, she gasps and reaches out towards her mother. “Mama!”

(The way Artemis’s face mars with a pained grimace makes your heart ache.)

Alex tenses, eyes glowing gold as she starts scanning the horizon (presumably checking for heat signatures). “Gde?”

The room goes quiet –and then you hear it.

The sound of engines rumbling –multiple engines—and car wheels crunching against gravel. Doors thumping open and shut, followed by footsteps. Hushed voices.

You scamper over to the nearest window and float up, just enough to see several men clad in black and Kevlar and carrying rifles stalking towards the front door and around the sides of the house in groups. “Guys with guns. Lots of them.”

“Then get down!” Nate hisses before yanking you back from the window.

“Lights out,” Alex orders before hitting the switch herself. “Get everyone to a reinforced room.”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Xavier says before wheeling himself towards the door.

Allison clings to Artemis’s sleeve, much like a baby koala. “What’s going on? What’s going to happen?”

“Go with the Professor,” Artemis says. She quickly –but gently—frees her arm, then clasps the teen’s face with both hands. “Look at me. Listen to the Professor, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?”

Allison’s forehead puckers, and her lower lip starts trembling. “But—”

“Is alright,” Nikolai interjects with a kind, reassuring smile. He gently ushers Allison towards the door, then down the hall before she can protest further.

A few doors down, Karen pokes her head out of the room where she and Frank have holed up. She frowns as she takes in the chaos. “What’s going on?”

“Mafia men with guns!” Wade chirps as he half-skips, half-jogs towards the mansion’s entryway. “Tell your boy to suit up!”

“There’s a safe room at the end of the hall,” Neena adds as she runs after Wade.

Frank squeezes around Karen and kisses her temple before falling in line behind the two assassins.

You step to the side so Karen can run past you, then turn and press a hasty kiss against Piotr’s cheek. “Love you.”

He kisses your cheek in return, equally as brief. “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

And then the two of you run towards the danger bearing down on your home.

***

In all the firefights you’ve been in, there’s always this moment of silence. A calm before the storm. A moment where everything goes still, while both sides wait for the other to make a move.

You duck behind a wall as the mafia gunmen continue hammering away at the front door, tucking yourself in a shadow. Your stomach tenses, breathing going quick and hard as your mind starts putting a plan together. Don’t want to risk collapsing part of the house by doing a pressure vacuum. Best option is to probably knock them to the ground so the others can jump them.

The door rattles. The wooden portal splits on one side, sending jagged splinters poking out into the air.

You slow your breathing, forcing yourself into a calm, focused state. Wait for them to get past the entryway so you can hit as many of them as possible.

In the back of the house, near the kitchen, you hear glass shatter.

They’re in. You clench your fists at your sides, watching as the front door slowly gives way. Three… two… one…

The door breaks open, swinging inwards as the first gunmen step into the foyer—

And then the door snaps off its hinges and slams into the men, taking them out like bowling pins.

Strike, a small, inane part of your brain giggles.

Shouts go up through the house. You can hear the sounds of rushed footsteps, shattering glass, and what sounds like people being bodyslammed through tables (and, given the type of people fighting for your side, it just might be that). Gunfire pierces the air –and is accompanied by the telltale, metallic plinks of the bullets ricocheting off your husband’s armor.

Angry screams emanate from the front step. Men barge in, firing down the hall, towards some unseen target (likely Alex or Nate, given the door trick).

You wait until as many men are piled into the foyer as possible, then send down a downdraft that blows out the windows on either side of the door.

The gunmen tumble to the floor, swearing in a mixture of English and Italian.

Nate, Wade, and Neena swoop in. They descend upon the mafia men like a pack of wolves, breaking bones, dislocating joints, and cracking skulls as they disarm –and, in some cases “un-alive”—the gunmen.

“It’s raining men!” Wade sings as he runs one of his katanas through the gut of one assailant. “Hallelujah! It’s raining men!” He ramps off a nearby wall, then t-bags another man before stabbing him through the temple. “Amen!”

You crouch, tracking the movement of the scuffle. You tense when you see a couple of the men jump Nathan, then charge towards the railing and dive over when a few more try to break past to run down the hallway. You flip in the air, land in the hallway ahead of them, and unleash a blast of wind right in their faces.

The mafia men fly out through the front door. They sail over half the front drive, then bounce off the gravel surface and roll several times before coming to a stop.

You let out a harsh breath, then dart down the hall towards the kitchen when you hear glass shattering and the sound of Frank bellowing angrily.

The kitchen and rec room are a mess. Glass shards from shattered windows coat the floor, glittering before being crushed underfoot. Doors are cracked from having people slammed into them. The rec room couch is overturned –and is sagging suspiciously on one side, hinting at a cracked frame. The entertainment system is shattered, with smoking bullet holes littering the TV, speakers, and media systems.

Frank has one of the guys pinned down over the sink. He’s snarling as he uses the lip of the sink to choke the guy out. There’s blood smeared his lips and chins, trailing back up to his chin.

Another gunman stalks in through the dining room, gun trained on Frank’s head.

You whip a blast of air at the second man, sending him sailing into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.

He drops to the ground, unconscious.

There’s some terrified shrieking –and then a gunman is punted up and out of the basement stairwell. He sails through the kitchen window headfirst, crumpling in a heap in the hedges outside.

Your husband storms up the staircase, teeth bared in an angry snarl. The waning daylight glints off his metal exterior, almost making him look like some sort of avenging angel. He stops short when he sees you, though; his irate expression vanishes, replaced by concern. “Ty v poryadke?”

You manage a smile and flash him a thumbs up—

And then a truck with a Gatling gun strapped to the roof rolls up to the back door.

“Get down!” Frank hollers before tackling you to the ground behind the kitchen island.

The room explodes into chaos. Bullets plow into the walls, sending up spurts of drywall dust in their wake. Wooden doorframes and floorboards crack, unleashing cascades of splinters in every direction. Glass shatters, raining down upon everything in its reach.

Frank positions himself over you, shielding you as fragmented bullets rain down upon your both. He cups your head with his hands, doing his best to protect you from the hellfire.

Over the din, you can just make out a loud, angry bellow –and then the sound of bullets hitting metal. Heavy, deliberate stomps make the floor shake.

The gunfire cuts off. A shriek pierces the air just before you hear what sounds like a car being tossed into a tree.

(As you’ll discover later, that’s precisely what you heard.)

Frank lifts his head, then carefully rolls off you. He crouches next to you and holds out a hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure you’ve got glass shards and splinters in your hair, but you’ve been worse. You take his hand, flinching when you hear the sound of more gunfire outside.

Frank peers over the lip of the island. “Reinforcements. At least five more cars headed our way.”

You suck in a breath. “Piotr—”

“Is holding his own for now,” Frank says.

“I’m gonna help him,” you rasp out. “Make sure everyone in the house that’s not on our side… stays down. And that we’ve still got all our people.”

Frank nods, then runs off towards the foyer.

You catch your breath, then creep towards the back door (better safe than sorry). You flatten yourself against the wall next to the doorway, then peer around the broken frame.

Piotr’s facing off against the new influx of cars. He’s got one hand on the hood of one Range Rover, arm extended out like he’s fending off a five-year-old. With his other hand, he flips another SUV over, causing the thing to land on its roof and putting the vehicle squarely out of commission.

Your stomach sinks when five more Range Rovers tear across the lawn, leaving deep, muddy tracks in their wake –and are followed by three more trucks with Gatling guns attached to the roofs. You sprint out the door, take a flying leap over Piotr, then send out a shockwave of air when you land on the ground.

A few of the cars fly backwards, rolling across the lawn like tumbleweeds. A majority of them, however, manage to stay upright or bump into each other and recover.

Your eyes widen when one of the Gatling gun operators aims directly at you. Shit.

Piotr leaps in front of you, whirling so his back is to the gun. He curls his body over yours, shielding you as gunfire rains down on you both.

You grit your teeth, grunting. You can feel the impact of the gunfire resonating through your husband’s metal body. Worry clutches at your heart when Piotr lets out sharp, ragged groans; he’s largely invulnerable in his armor, not to mention his sense of touch is severely dulled, but you know that with shit like this he’s still feeling some sort of pain –and there’s nothing you can do. You’re both pinned down, and as powerful as your shockwaves are, they’re not enough to stop or even skew the trajectory of a bullet—

Blue light washes over both of you. The sound of the gunfire wanes, replaced by warbling, pinging noises instead.

You peer around Piotr’s side to see Illyana standing between the two of you and the oncoming cars. She has her arms outstretched, palms facing the onslaught of adversaries. A shimmering, sky blue shield with various magical incantations floating through it surrounds all of you, stretching into the sky for at least forty feet.

Illyana grunts. She’s being shoved backwards from the force of impact from the bullets. Her feet are digging into the ground, leaving ruts as she tries to hold her stance. “We need new plan!”

“How about ‘stay alive?’” Piotr shouts back as he digs shrapnel out of the grooves on his arms.

Wade, Neena, Nate, and Frank come barreling out the back door, faces streaked with soot and blood. They dive for the ground, covering the backs of their heads and necks with their hands—

An explosion goes off inside the mansion. The shockwave shatters windows on both the first and second floor, blowing out window frames and trim.

Piotr covers your body with his once more. He cups your head with his hand, shielding you from the falling debris and the worst of the shockwave.

You cough and hack as smoke billows out the broken windows and doors. You do your best to make a vortex to suck the smoke away and send it up into the air. Your lungs burn, and your ears are ringing like a bell from all the gunfire and the explosion—

Four more gunmen emerge from the smoke pouring out the back door.

You snarl, then whip blasts of air at them, slamming them into the exterior walls of the house.

One of them goes down, while the other three are merely stunned.

Mikhail comes barreling out next. He lets out a guttural battle cry, then sucker punches one of the men in the back of the head before aiming a blast of rust colored energy at another’s gut.

The man screams as he sails into the air, arcing over the tree line and disappearing somewhere in the canopies.

The third man aims his gun at Mikhail –then staggers and drops to the ground when a beam of golden energy sears through his chest.

Alex storms out of the smoke with Artemis and your uncle trailing close behind her. She glares down the remaining gunmen and cars, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Blood is flecked across her face and spattered over her leather jacket. “House is clear!”

“Yeah, except now we’re about to be cleared out!” Wade hollers back. “As in, ‘all sales final, no returns, no exchanges!’”

“If we could make plan,” Illyana screams, voice strained with the effort of holding the shield, “would be very great!”

You look over to Alex –and see her eyes widen. You whirl towards the gunmen just in time to see one of them aim a rocket launcher at all of you. “Oh, for the love of—”

The first hit is technically deflected by Illyana’s shield, insomuch that the projectile and the shield both shatter the moment they meet. The force of the magic breaking sends out a shockwave of blue energy that flies backwards into all of you, knocking those who managed to get up back off their feet and stunning the rest of you.

You groan, head reeling. Your vision clears slowly, casting double images when you move too quickly. Shit.

You can make out Piotr, just next to you. He’s lying face down on the lawn, grunting and moving in slow, clumsy movements. He turns his head, brow furrowing when he sees you, and reaches out towards you.

You extend your hand to grab his –but he’s just out of your reach, no matter how far you strain. Your body feels heavy with fatigue and pain; everything inside you is screaming to get up, to fight, to keep moving because death is knocking right on your door, and you’ll be damned if this is how you go out—

Alex recovers first –no surprise there. She shoves herself to her feet, seething and growling like a feral beast. She hurls a blast of energy at one of the cars –and, from the sounds of the carnage, makes a direct hit. She storms towards the sea of mafia men like an avenging angel, hell bound on vengeance and blood.

Audible gasps go up from the amassed assassins.

You lift your head to see several of the gunmen backing away from the mansion and crossing themselves with shaking hands. You chalk it up to Alex being Alex, and make to drop your head back against the ground once more—

And then you see Allison standing in the ruined doorway.

She’s glaring down the gunmen with a viciousness that doesn’t suit the youthful roundness of her face. Her brows are knit together, and her mouth is twisted into an ugly scowl. Her eyes are glowing a brilliant shade of blue and give off little wisps of azure colored smoke. Her skin and hair are smoking as well, creating an aura around her body. Blood drips down from her nose and onto her shirt –which is stained with ash and soot. There are burn marks and indents on her wrists from where the repression cuff and the handcuffs used to be, respectively, but the restraints themselves are gone.

The ground begins to shake. Two patches of cerulean light appear underneath the grass, growing larger until they form swirling vortexes of magical energy. The ground begins to crumble at the edges of the portals, eroding away and growing wider until they make gaping tunnels that channel so deeply into the earth there’s no telling how far they truly go.

You recoil when the smell of sulfur and smoke blenches forth from the tunnels. Shit, did she hit a gas line? Fucking dammit, like this day can get any worse—

Echoing, blood-chilling howls emanate from the tunnels.

Your eyes widen –and then your heart starts working overtime when you see two, then four massive hellhounds (like the ones Allison summoned at the mall) crawl out of the tunnels.

Shrieks of terror sound from the gunmen. Several take off running, while others try to shoot the beasts.

The hounds snap and snarl at the gunmen, then charge at the group. Two of them go off after the runners, while the other two start lunging after the assassins like they’re rabbits.

You stare at the chaos in disbelief –and then a set of strong hands grab you underneath the arms.

“Get up.” You uncle tugs you to your feet, keeping you steady when you stumble. “You can’t be in the flow of traffic for this.”

Behind you, Allison is panting like she’s run a marathon. The aura of blue smoke is growing around her, trailing into the air and floating over the ground. Veins of light spread across her face and arms, glowing the same shade of vibrant blue as her eyes. Her breathing grows louder and more ragged, until she’s growling and shaking with each exhale— and then she screams.

Much like the first confrontation in the cemetery, all those months ago, the scream unleashes a shockwave of blue energy. This time, though, the shockwave is far from a decoy for escape. It washes over you, the X-Force, your uncle, the other Rasputins, Frank, and Artemis harmlessly enough –then slams into the mafia forces and vehicles like the wall of a hurricane.

Alex charges after the shockwave, carefully trailing behind it. She waits until it clears the first line of gunmen, then slams her fist into the face of the man closest to her. She blocks his attempt to strike her, then twists his arm –dislocating the shoulder, which makes him shriek in pain. Then, she wrenches his rifle away from him. She shoots him once in the center of his forehead, then turns the firearm on his fellow men and keeps firing.

Mikhail and Artemis go after the one surviving Gatling gun. Mikhail teleports onto the truck bed; he sweeps the back of one man’s jacket over his head, effectively blinding him, then kicks the other man present in the balls before shoving him over the side of the truck.

Artemis, on the other hand, stops a few feet away from the truck. She uses her telekinesis to rip the Gatling gun off its mount, then yanks the driver out through the windscreen –headfirst, no less—and dumps him on the lawn.

He doesn’t get back up.

“Come on,” your uncle says, pointing towards the further reaches of the property, where some of the gunmen are still trying to outrun the hellhounds. “Let’s give the dogs a helping hand.”

The two of you reach out, creating a wind current that slices through the air and slams into the stragglers.

The men careen into nearby hedges –and the hellhounds have it from there.

The familiar sonic blast of Nathan’s gun rips through the air. The shot slams into the last remaining SUV, rendering the vehicle to little more than glass shards and mangled metal.

The back lawn and gardens fall silent, save for the sounds of groans of pain and the hellhounds chewing on various gunmen.

Mikhail takes a fall off the back of the truck bed. He flops onto the ruined grass below, limbs splaying like a rag doll’s. “Alright. Is time for nap. Wake me… never.”

Illyana scoffs from where she’s sat next to a smoldering bush. She picks up a nearby stone, then chucks it at her eldest brother’s head (and hits her target, no less). “There is still clean up. Bezdel'nik.”

Mikhail flips her off, then groans as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

“She’s right,” Alex lectures her eldest as she picks her way through the carnage. She nudges one body with the toe of her combat boot, then shoots him through the temple when he groans.

“Mama!” Piotr gapes at her, expression scandalized. He sputters, looking between her and the body at her feet.

“Chto? Vy khotite yego zhivym? Chtoby on mog dolozhit' svoim khozyayevam? Chtoby on mog obrushit' adskiy ogon' na etu shkolu i vsekh, kogo vy lyubite? No –no.” She holds up her index finger and stares sternly at Piotr when he tries to argue. “You do not leave enemies on your six o’clock, medvezhonok. First rule of survival.”

Piotr swallows hard, then says softly, “X-Men do not kill.”

Alex shrugs. “And I am not an X-Man.”

“We’ll handle it,” Nathan says. He holds his hand out for Alex’s rifle, nodding when she hands it to him after a moment’s hesitation.

(Wade and Frank are already working their way through the sea of dead and wounded. Frank’s traversing the chaos methodically, sticking to minimal shots to kill the survivors, while Wade’s alternating between singing “Dancing Queen” and getting post-mortem revenge.

“You shot my dick off inside!” Wade gasps as he peers down at a –slightly chewed on—corpse. “Extra bullets for you!” He then shoots the dead body several times before resuming his pitchy serenade.)

“What now?” Allison asks, staring out at the carnage with a slightly shocked expression.

“‘What now?’” Artemis repeats, laughing incredulously. She stomps towards Allison, pulling a pack of tissues out of her inner jacket pocket. “What the hell are you even doing out here? You were supposed to stay in the safe room—”

“They had cameras in there,” Allison says with a roll of her eyes, as if that justifies her decision to join the fracas. “You guys were getting your asses kicked.”

“We would’ve handled it.”

“Yeah, except you weren’t,” Allison fires back. She scrunches up her face when Artemis starts wiping the blood off her face, but otherwise takes the mothering without any complaint.

“It’s not your responsibility to deal with this shit,” Artemis says, voice and expression softening for a moment. She cleans up Allison’s face –then scowls. “And where the fuck are your cuffs? How did you even get out of them?”

Allison shrugs. “I used my powers to short the repression cuff out and ash it off.”

Illyana’s, Alex’s, and your uncle’s heads all snap around to stare at Allison.

“Are you kidding me?” Artemis hisses through clenched teeth. “You could’ve fucking killed yourself!”

“Or caused magical paradox that ripped hole in space-time continuum,” Illyana snaps.

“Ruptured blood vessels in your brain and caused an aneurysm, made the cuff deliver a lethal electrical shock, turned your magic against your own body and rendered yourself to ash,” your uncle continues, ticking off items on his fingers.

“Well, I didn’t do any of that!” Allison snarls, glaring at the others while Artemis keeps cleaning up her face. “And I made sure you losers won the fight –so fuck off!”

“Get her something to eat and drink,” Alex says. “Her blood sugar is bound to be low after pulling a stunt like that.”

Artemis glares at Alex and opens her mouth to respond—

Across the yard, Wade lets out a pained shriek. “My balls are not fetch toys! Bad Fido! Bad!”

Your eyes widen as you watch one of the hellhounds swing Wade around by his legs. You bite down on your lip, holding in a shock-induced laugh.

“Where’s this mutt’s off-switch –hey, hey! No!” Wade wriggles in the hellhound’s mouth, panicking as another beast bounds towards him. “My spine is not a tug toy! Can someone get rid of Fido and Rufus before they rip me in half!”

Allison snorts –then, before anyone can stop her, holds out her hand and flicks her wrist.

All four hellhounds melt back into the ground, disappearing to the depths of hell from whence they came.

Artemis swears under her breath, then catches the teen when she stumbles. She moves frantically, grabbing more tissues as blood starts pouring out of Allison’s nose once more. “You fucking idiot. Why the fuck did you do that? When are you going to fucking learn that you’re not invincible—”

Allison lets out a sharp, hoarse laugh –then passes out.

…

The wreckage inside the mansion is heartbreaking.

You stare at the ruined furniture, the scorched walls, the splintered doors, the ruined rec room and kitchen, and you have to wonder what was the fucking point?

Part of you understands that the mafia came prepared for war; they were going up against powerful mutants, so –naturally—they would want to be prepared. Having the strongest, most powerful weapons available increased their chances of success. Logically –from a strictly tactical standpoint—it makes sense.

Glass crunches under your shoes. You stare down at a litany of fallen picture frames, heart wrenching as you stare at the ruined pictures of graduates, students, and workers inside. We’re just a school. We work with kids. What was the point of trying to wipe us out?

Piotr ambles up behind you. He puts his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Cleaners and repairmen will be here in less than one hour.”

You feel numb. You place your hand on his arm. “That’s good.”

“We have back ups of pictures,” he murmurs. He kisses your cheek. “Insurance to cover replacing damaged items. We will be fine.”

“I know.” You sigh, leaning back against your husband’s chest. “We’re just a school. What… what was the point? Why try to wipe us out?”

“I do not know.” Piotr kisses your other cheek, hugging you reassuringly. “Perhaps they believed we knew information about ‘family business.’ Or that we were protecting Allison for some reason.”

“She’s just a kid,” you argue, voice breaking as your grief and exhaustion wells up and threatens to overtake you. “She’s only thirteen…”

Piotr says nothing, merely holds you closer.

You sigh—

And then a door slams. Hurried stomps echo down the hall. There’s creaking as a door opens again, followed by more footsteps and exasperated shouts.

Allison storms past you and Piotr, heading towards the kitchen. Her jaw is set, fists clenched at her sides.

You and Piotr look at each other –then follow after her, if only to be sure that nothing else is going to explode today.

She slams her hands down on the island counter –and, on the opposite side, Frank and Karen both flinch and stare at her warily.

Allison glares at Frank, jaw working convulsively. Her shoulders heave with each breath she takes. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, making the bags underneath seem darker and deeper by comparison. She trembles, expression flickering wildly between grief, white hot rage, and the neutral mask she’s trying so desperately to hold. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a pained sob, then stares Frank down and spits out through gritted teeth, “You leave my people alone, I leave yours alone. Deal?”

Frank sighs. He nods, expression heavy with grief and eyes shining with remorse. “Yeah, kid. You got a deal.”

Allison clenches the edge of the island so hard her hands go white. She lets out a strangled, angry laugh as the tears finally start to fall. She ducks her head briefly, then glares back up at Frank. “I fucking hate you.”

Frank grimaces, but nods and says, “I know kid. It’s okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“That ain’t worth shit.”

“I know… believe me, I know.”

Artemis –who’d previously been watching at the kitchen threshold—steps forward and puts her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

Allison clenches her teeth together, but still lets out a choked sob. She presses her lips together, looking around the room to try and regain her composure, to stop the flow of tears. She manages a deep breath, then takes one last look at Frank and snarls, “If I have to see your fucking face again, I’m ripping out your guts,” before storming out of the room.

Frank, to his credit, doesn’t respond (though you suspect he feels too guilty to even consider arguing). He merely hangs his head, expression that of a kicked dog.

Karen leans against him. She interlocks her fingers with his, murmuring in his ear (likely about how it isn’t his fault, and while it looks like that may technically be the case, you’re glad you don’t have to walk the spider’s silk of a line those facts lie upon).

What a shitshow.

Piotr puts an arm around your shoulders and gently leads you out of the kitchen. “Come on, myshka. Let’s go find spot to rest.”

…

Frank and Karen leave shortly after “making the deal” with Allison.

Allison and Artemis hang back for a bit to talk to Xavier. You don’t get all the gorey details but from what you can tell, it’s essentially an offer to help train Allison’s powers so she doesn’t hurt herself rolled in with a warning to keep her nose clean, stay on the straight and narrow, etcetera etcetera.

The sun’s just starting its descent from the sky before the two of them walk out of the meeting room.

Allison is wearing Artemis’s jacket and looks downright haggard.

Artemis has her arm around the teen and is gently guiding her while she talks to Xavier (though, perhaps the term “talk” is too generous, considering most of her responses are nods or terse, one-to-two word replies).

The rest of the Rasputin family, you, Piotr, and your uncle are all gathered in the foyer to make sure Allison and Artemis leave without too much trouble (or causing more trouble themselves).

Your uncle is sweating bullets and looks like he just shit his pants; he’s glancing between Alex and their daughter so fast it’s a miracle he hasn’t given himself a headache yet.

Now or never, you think, watching him with pursed lips. Tell your secrets before they’re told for you.

Alex kneels down next to Allison. “Are you okay?”

Allison’s gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “The fuck do you think?”

She quirks her mouth to the side. “Not all that good.” Alex ducks her head lower, trying to catch Allison’s gaze. “You remember what we talked about?”

Allison’s eyes narrow. She moves her gaze away from Alex. “Go to hell. I know what I know.”

“Sometimes… it’s better to not,” Alex says. She stares at Allison for a moment longer, then pats her shoulder before standing and walking away.

Artemis stares after Alex, expression morphing rapidly between fury and shock. She sputters for a moment before snapping, “What –that’s all you have to fucking say?”

Alex pauses, turning slightly so she can see Artemis. She raises one eyebrow, otherwise looking unbothered. “Is there something else I should be saying?”

“You don’t have anything to say to me?” Artemis presses, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing at all?”

“Is there something you want me to say to you?” Alex fires back, smirking slightly.

Artemis stares at Alex for a long, hard moment. She shakes her head, eyes welling up with tears, then turns her glare onto your uncle. “You really didn’t fucking tell her.”

“What?” Alex’s expression sobers, going wary as she looks between your uncle and Artemis. “What didn’t you—”

“This really isn’t the time or place—” Your uncle tries.

And here it goes.

“I’ve gotta do all the work, then,” Artemis snarls with a vicious smile. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, considering I’m not your favorite,” she tacks on with an angry glare towards you. She storms towards Alex, one hand outstretched, with a cruel, angry smile stretched across her face. “Hey, mom. How’s it going?”

Alex’s eyes widen. She stares at Artemis, eyes tracking over the younger woman’s face. “What…”

“You fucking heard me.”

Illyana, Piotr, and Mikhail look at each other, then at Alex, then at Nikolai. They explode into confused Russian, gesturing between their parents, Artemis, and your uncle—

Realization dawns in Alex’s dark eyes. Her expression trembles, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares at Artemis’s face.

And then she uses her telekinesis to yank your uncle over and decks him.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #frank castle x karen page #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #love me some soap opera style drama #and frankly so does marvel #and honestly if marvel can have whatever tf infinity war and endgame were i can have this #probably shouldn't have built alex's whole backstory and have it be outside the scope of this series bUT OH WELL #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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uglypastels · 4 years

Text

Appropriate Action // Tom Holland

(a/n) this goes out to @captainpeggy40 for sending me that gif set of Tom smoking in TDATT. I seriously have a problem, but hey, we wouldn’t have this wihout it so... also damn, i haven’t written a oneshot in ages and its so much easier oof. this was fun.

word count: 4500 (italicized means flashback)

warning: “bad boy”!Tom, smoking, some guys being pigs, tattoos, mention of drinking, (mention of) violence, (mention of) soft drug use. little bit of angst, but it is mostly fluff

hope you all enjoy xxx

“If we see you smoking we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action.” - Douglas Adams

The car’s engine roared as Tom waited in front of the building. The new paint job was just the perfect touch that his vintage chevy needed. Tom leaned his arm out the window, the other hanging over the sizeable front seat. He stared out ahead of him, looking at the empty road. In a second, groups of students would fill his vision, all gawking at the gorgeous black car. He preferred the attention to be on the vehicle he spent so much time in than himself.

He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with smoke. That bitter, euphoric taste of nicotine was finally taking over. Even though he had only woken up a short while ago, he felt like he had been up for hours. His head was pounding, and he just wished to be back in his small apartment, cut off from the world, just him and something cold to drink.

Tom took the cigarette from his lips, flicking the burned and shrivelled butt out the window, and quickly put it back in his mouth to take another long drag. The cigarette was almost burned up, and he hoped he could finish it before-

Right then, something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. From a distance, it only looked like a colourful blur nearing him, but he knew immediately what- or better said, who it was. He turned his head, cigarette still dangling from between his lips, to look at you walking down the path to the car. Like always, your head was down, and your pace was quick. He swiftly threw the cigarette out the window. Right then you looked up and gave him a small, tight-lipped smile, which he returned to you. All this time, music was playing, so he reached for the volume to lower it a little.

“Hey,” you got in, eyes locked on the dashboard. Tom knew what this meant.

“What did they do?” He looked out through the window behind you, already with two distinct faces in mind to keep an eye out for.

“Nothing, Tom. Let’s just go.” You almost begged him, but he wouldn’t have it.

“Darling, you know I won’t allow those two assholes to be near you, just tell me what they did and I’ll handle it.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly. All you did was pick at the loose name tag on one of your books on your lap.

“You don’t have to do anything, Tommy.” Usually, he hated it when people called him that, but for some reason, when the word came out of your mouth. It made him feel fantastic, better than any cigarette or drink could.

You didn’t know why you were so determined not to get Tom involved in your campus problems. Probably because you knew that he could beat anyone (really, anyone) to a pulp if he wanted to, which meant he would get in trouble. And it just didn’t feel like you were worth that. You didn’t feel like you were worth it for him to get into trouble. Besides, nothing happened. All those frat guys did was look at you and make comments… nasty, disgusting comments, but most the time you didn’t even hear them. You learned to zone it out. There was nothing for Tom to worry about.

You hoped Tom would have started driving, but when you looked up, he was still staring out the window on your side, jaw clenched. You took your hand and placed it on top of his.

“Just drive, please.”

His eyes fell to you for a second, looking straight into your pleading eyes. He could never say no to that face of yours. There was just so much innocence in you. He loved it about you that no matter how much you tried to get out of your shell, there was always this kind of purity and shyness about you.

With a disagreeing sigh, he changed gears and stepped on the gas, leaving the school building behind in the dust. Only the one small cigarette butt on the floor as the only sign that you Tom had ever been there.

You leaned in against his shoulder, but after one inhale of air, you pulled away.

“You smell like a chimney,” you said teasingly. Tom rolled his eyes, but you could see the twitch in the corner of his mouth. All you did, however, was pout. “You said you’d stop.”

“I’m sorry.” He kept on smiling, finding it so cute how hard you tried to get him to stop smoking. But you both knew it was hard to teach an old dog new tricks. “But you have to realise, dove, that this is a losing battle you’re fighting. It’s just simply too good.” To put extra salt on the wound, he reached out for a cigarette in the open pack in the cupholder. He put the little stick between his lips and looked at you with a face that you could only describe as Zoolander-like.

“Besides, look how cool it makes me.” He said before putting the cigarette back in the pack. How much you hated smoking, you had to admit; he looked darn good doing it. The window on his side of the car was still open, softly blowing the wind into his hair. He had let it grow since you met but could always remember how he looked like the first time you saw him.

That was already over a year ago. You stood outside of a tattoo shop for what felt like an eternity. It was a small studio, and it was organising a walk-in sessions afternoon that day. You thought this would be the perfect time to do it.

Finally, you walked inside. Some punk music was playing you didn’t recognise. The walls were plastered with gorgeous artwork, and the shelves were stacked with obscure little items that might have just as well belonged in a witch coven. It looked fantastic.

Still, the place was relatively empty. Only one chair was occupied, but that one machine was enough to fill the room with the buzzing sound. A girl with bright blue hair and several piercings was sitting at the counter, looking bored. Her spirits however perked up when she saw you walk in.

“Hiya, how can I help you?” she smiled.

“I’m here for a walk-in if that’s alright.” It was so evident that you had no idea what you were doing. Still, the girl didn’t say anything about it—the idea of having someone get their first tattoo excited her.

“Alrighty then, do you have any ideas of what you want to get?”

“Uhmm, no. Not really.” your cheeks were heating up, and you were starting to think that you had not thought this through at all.

“That’s alright,” she reassured you. “We got a few folders with ideas over there. Look through them for an idea, and then we can come up with something.” She winked and pointed over to the corner of the room, where antique armchairs were standing. Between them, indeed, a large folder filled with small tattoo designs. You sat down and started going through the pages. It all looked pretty, and it was quite overwhelming actually to pick something.

Eventually, you halted at something that caught your eye. It was a rose with a few petals falling off.

“I hooked up with a girl once that had kind of tattoo,” a voice next to you said, making you jump up. You looked up and saw a guy about your age sitting in a chair, ready to get a tattoo himself. You hadn’t even realised how close the waiting corner was to the actual tattooing station. And now you were wondering how long the man had been sitting there, watching you.

“Excuse me?” you asked, not understanding the need of the comment he had made.

“The rose tattoo, don’t get it.” He simply said. You looked at him a bit better. He was wearing a white t-shirt, which revealed a few gorgeous tattoos slipping out of the sleeves. He had short cut hair, but you noticed that on the right side, it was completely shaved off, giving you a good idea of where he was getting his next tattoo.

“Why not? It looks pretty.” You weren’t thinking about getting it, but it did look nice, which was the big reason you were looking at it. Before this, all the designs were fairly minimalistic. This was the first one with some good detail in it.

“Nothing against the artist, but the design… it’s kind of basic. Nothing against it if you’re into that kind of things, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a first tattoo. Not to mention, it’s a big piece. I would go for something smaller, easier.”

You had not expected a whole essay to come from his mouth, so you stared at him with a slightly open mouth. His chuckle unfroze you again.

“Well, lucky for you I guess, I wasn’t thinking of getting it. But thanks for your input.”

“No problem.” He was about to turn away, but the helpless and lost little child in you cried out for help.

“So what would you recommend?”

He came back around and grabbed the folder from your hand. He flipped through the pages, a bit mindlessly. Eventually, he got to the last page without saying anything and closed it.

“I don’t think you should get one.” He said as he put the catalogue on the small coffee table. You stared at him. You had no response to it.

“Not right now, at least.”

“Why do you think that?” You finally managed to get out.

“Well… why do you want to get a tattoo?” You were about to answer with a half-lie, but he was quicker, “To anger your parents?”

All you did was scoff at his suggestion, but it was enough to prove his theory right. “Hey, I don’t judge. And if there is something deeper going on in that pretty head of yours, go ahead, but don’t go through hours of pain because of them. Do it because YOU want it.”

You didn’t reply, just thought for a second. Then, without saying a word to the handsome stranger, got up and walked over to the counter where the girl was patiently waiting (and most likely listening in to every word of that strange conversation).

“I got an idea,” You quickly went into your phone’s gallery and scrolled through the pictures until you found what you were looking for. “Could you maybe make this like a, what’s it called, like minimal line art. You know, just one continuous line.

The girl looked at the picture, and a giant smile beamed across her face. “Absolutely! If you can send it to my email, I’ll go and trace it for ya real quick.” She scribbled down her email address, and with a few clicks, you shared the image with her. She told you that it would probably take a few minutes so you could sit back down. Right, next to your anonymous helper.

His artist had come back from wherever he had been and was preparing the ink and machine. The helpful man, however, sat in the chair, frozen like you had left him. Clearly, he didn’t expect you do go and get a design done.

You sat down opposite of him, quite proud of yourself.

“Well… I didn’t exactly expect that, but I hope you’re happy with your tattoo.”

“Thanks, I am.” You nodded, “I hope you are with yours. And that it won’t hurt too much.” You winced at the idea of getting your head tattoed. You head heard that places closer to the bone hurt more.

“You can watch if you want.”

“I’m alright, thanks.” You declined his offer.

“Aight, Tom, take a seat, mate.” The tattoo artist told the man. Tom gave you one last smile before laying down and facing away from you, giving the tattooist proper access to his momentary canvas. You watched him place the stencil carefully. You couldn’t see what it was exactly, but it looked big. Definitely, one of those designs you would not be ready for at this moment. And the girl called you to get your own stencil on.

And the rest, as people say, was history. You got your tattoo done much quicker than Tom did. Of course, he realised this and immediately grabbed the chance to call you over to him so he could speak to you again before you left his life forever. You sat next to him, watching him get his tattoo, and talked. It was strange. It was as if you had known each other for much longer than just that afternoon. And the afternoon ended with him asking you for your phone number, which you gladly gave.

Things stayed just as smooth and comfortable between the two of you for all those months. His hair had grown and was now long enough for you to brush your fingers trough. He might have not said it out loud, but you knew that was a big reason for him to let his hair grow out. It did mean that the tattoo that started it all was completely covered. It was like a little secret between both of you.

You felt safe with him, but almost more importantly, you felt like yourself. He never made you do anything. He was the only person in your life that did ask anything from you, never made you do anything. But at the same time, he introduced you to this entire new side of you that you didn’t even know existed. You began to worry less about what other people thought of you, you were less scared of trying new things, even if it meant getting into a little bit of trouble now and then. It felt great.

Tom drove you to his apartment like he did every Friday. With no other plans for the day or the upcoming weekend, you were free to do whatever you wanted. Even if it meant staying in bed for the entirety of three days, eating ice cream and watching dumb movies.

Tom’s flat was the last place your parents would have wanted you to be. It was… grungy. It was large enough for him and your occasional sleepovers. The theme he was going for with his decor was most likely a “strange second-hand store” with his mismatching, half-broken furniture. He had an extensive collection of vinyl records, the most significant part of it containing artists you had never heard of before. He kept his little coffee table quite empty, except for the tall glass bong standing in the middle (that may or may not have been a birthday present from you). And he had bookshelves filled with everything in the range of classic horror novels, to comic books. It was your favourite place in the world.

Yet, when you were only a few blocks away from the building, you made him stop the car.

“What’s up?” He asked after parking the car on the side of the road.

“Let’s go to the park,” you suggested. It had been lovely weather the entire day, and you longed for stretching your legs and finally enjoy the sun. Tom wasn’t much of a park person, but he did enjoy going on walks with you. He was about to start up the car again but then stopped. Before you could ask if something was wrong, he leaned to the side to you and kissed you deeply. With his hand on your cheek, it heated up your entire body, and you grabbed his shirt, needing something to hold on to. You could taste that cigarette he had smoked before you got into the car.

“Hmmm, just a second,” you said after pulling out. You opened your bag and searched for a second until you found the box of breath mints. Tom, already well aware of the procedure, rolled his eyes and held out his hand flat open. You tipped over the container, spilling three large mints into his hand.

“C’mon, these taste like shit,” he groaned. You just looked at him until he put them in his mouth.

“You wouldn’t have to eat ‘em if you didn’t smell like cigarettes.” You shrugged, putting the mints back in your bag. Tom still didn’t seem convinced about your method, but he didn’t say anything more. He stepped on the gas again, and you were finally off to the park.

You were glad he had the window open because it was apparent he had smoked in the car recently. Fortunately, with every minute passing by driving, the smell got less prominent. Before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination and could step out. You hopped out of the car and made your way to the other side to meet Tom. He brushed his fingers through his hair as he stepped out. You could tell how cool he thought doing so, and you could agree. He looked mesmerising. In his old denim jacket, covered in DIY patches, his grey shirt and old, slightly warn through jeans, he almost looked like he could replace Patrick Swayze in the Outsiders.

Somehow, it all worked for him just fine.

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for another kiss. You were just glad the mints were doing their job, but no matter that, just the feeling of his soft lips against yours made you melt any time.

But you also wanted to enjoy the weather in the lovely surroundings. Hence, you unclasped yourself from hid grasp and manoeuvred around him to hold his hand. That didn’t seem like enough to Tom, so, still holding your hand, he pulled you in closer to drape his arm over your shoulders.

Because that was the thing about Tom. He was intimidating to most. Dark, mysterious, brooding. A real loner. There were barely any people who he opened up to. One of the few, if not the only one, is you. And that was why you knew how soft he really was. He loved to have you near him, preferably holding you or at least your hand. He loved those moments on the days you were with him, where you ate breakfast in bed and told each other about the dream you had the night before. He loved having you around, and he loved being yours.

Ever since he remembered, he always denied the question of what his biggest fear was. First, because he simply didn’t know, but know it was just too hard to admit that he was afraid of something terrible happening to you. So when he picked you up from class and saw the speed at which you walked at to the car, never looking up to chat with friends. He saw the need at which you wanted to get out of there, meaning that there was something in that building you needed to get away from. It was definitely a someone.

He wished you would just tell him what the problem was. He would do anything for you. Which was most likely the reason you didn’t tell him. Because you knew he would do anything. Even if it meant he’d be in danger. It wouldn’t matter to him.

But while his fear was losing you, yours was losing him.

That was nothing to think about at that moment, though. You were in a lovely park, holding each other close. There were a lot of families around with the same idea as you, to enjoy the pleasant weather outside in the shade of the large trees.

You walked around the park, his arm hung over your shoulders. At one point you had wandered off to small open field between the trees. It was a perfect spot to sit down. The grass had clearly just been cut because the fresh smell was overwhelming. Tom lay down with his hands behind his head, and you used his stomach as a pillow. You looked up at the blue sky, pointing out the different shaped clouds.

“Ooh, that one looks like a dragon!” you pointed at one on the left. When you glanced at Tom you realised he hadn’t even been looking, his eyes entirely focused on you.

“You’re not looking!” you playfully slapped his side to which he responded with a soft groan. This was followed with the both of you laughing for a while. Then Tom reached out into his pocket and to your horror, you saw that he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He put it between his lips and was about to flick open the lighter you grabbed it out of his hand. He looked at you in confusion.

Mumbling, since he still had the little stick of cancer in his mouth, he said: “Ekfcufe me?”

“No way are you smoking here.” “There’s no one here.” He sighed after pulling the cigarette out of his mouth.

“I’m here. Nature is here.” You argued.

“Nature is here?” Tom raised an eyebrow, holding in his laughter. You nodded frantically. That didn’t seem to work because he put it back in his mouth, letting it dangle from his lip. So, you reached out and grabbed that too, just like the lighter. And you put it in your own mouth. You had smoked before, just to try, and it was quite disgusting. It was another reason why you never understood Tom’s love for it.

“What are you doing?’ Tom said, some panic covering his voice. As much as he enjoyed it, he knew how bad it was for him. Out of all the things he introduced you too, he always wished you never took up smoking.

“Well, if you need to smoke so bad, I don’t want to be left out.” You flicked on the lighter and were slowly putting it closer to the cigarette. Your eyes, however, were locked on Tom’s. Was he going to call your bluff? The little flame was about to burn the-

“Alright! I won’t smoke here.” He stopped you. Once again, proud of your intervention, you gave him the cigarette and put the lighter in your own pocket.

“Now go throw that out.” You told him. “And I mean all of it.” You had seen a trashcan on the path leading to the open space, so you pointed him that way. Slowly, Tom got up and slouched his way toward to bin. Satisfied, you closed your eyes and lie down on the grass.

But that only lasted for a few seconds. You could hear footsteps and loud noises coming from the other side of the field. The voices made your blood freeze and get up quickly. It sounded like they were coming your way, and you did not want them to find you lying on the ground. The thought of that happening alone- no. You didn’t want to think about it.

You got up and were dusting yourself off from the grass, already walking in the direction Tom had went. But it was too late, they saw you.

“Well, if it isn’t our little y/n!” one of them shouted out. Jack. You didn’t turn around, just kept on walking. But they were much faster and quickly caught up to you, cutting off the path.

“Uhm, hey guys,” it was a wonder any sound came out of your mouth and that they heard it.

“Well, what are you doing here all by yourself?” asked Jack with a tone that sounded as sweet as marmite to you.

“I’m not actually,” you tried to get through, to walk away from there, “I’m with my boyfriend-”

“Oh, with your boyfriend, are ya?” Jason added with a disgusting smirk. “Out in the field, huh. Wondering what you two had been up to.” They both sniggered like the idiots they are.

“Do you think we can join ya?”

“No.” You said, determination coming up slowly in your voice. Very slowly, but it was progressing. You could see over their shoulders that Tom was making his way back, and he noticed your new company. This gave you the real confidence you needed.

“No? Awh c’mon, don’t be like that.” Jack was about to grab your hand, but you pulled it away from his reach.

“I said no. I don’t know how many fucking times you dickwads need to hear it.” And then you did something you still don’t know how it exactly happened. With a rush of adrenaline, in a quick move, you punched Jason in the face. So fast that his buddy Jack couldn’t even comprehend what happened before you kicked him in the groin.

Without wasting another second you made a run for it, meeting Tom only a few feet away. He had clearly seen what happened and stood frozen on the path to where you were.

“Were you planning on joining or?” You said as you ran by, not wanting to stop there. Tom quickly got the hint and followed you. You had to get to his car. And fast.

“Holy shit, y/n, what was that?” Tom asked in astonishment when he caught up to you, which didn’t take that long. You, however, didn’t answer. Not wanting to waste your adrenaline rush on answering a question that could just as quickly be answered somewhere safer.

You ran through the whole park, all the way to the car: passing families and pigeon-feeding elderly. Finally, you could see the car. Unluckily, it couldn’t be unlocked from a distance. Tom sprinted up and put the key in the lock. You had reached the other door right on time and slipped inside.

You were both heaving air, you clutching your chest, Tom adjusting the rear-view mirror to see if the two frat boys had followed you. Realising you were once again alone, you simultaneously erupted into laughter.

“Wow-” you breathed out, “that was-”

“Brilliant.” Tom managed to chuckle, “You were brilliant.” He reached out to pull you against his side and kiss your forehead. “Fucking brilliant.” He repeated with a whisper.

“I don’t know what came over me.” You said in disbelief, looking at your red knuckles. Tom took your hand and kissed most severely red part of your skin.

“It was those guys from school, right?” He asked. All you could do was nod. You hadn’t told him much about what they had been doing, but you knew he was clever enough to figure this out somewhat by himself. He didn’t ask any other questions.

“I’m so proud of you, babe,” he said, “Kicking that asshole like that, I’m almost scared of you.”

“Oh, almost, huh?” you questioned.

“Well yeah, you’ll always be my little dove.” Still holding your bruised hand, he leaned in to kiss you.

At that moment, both of you knew you had each other’s back. You loved each other. Everything was fine, there was nothing to fear, nothing to worry about.

The End

> thank you for reading!!

> pleae leave a comment or ask, i’d love to hear what you thought about it

>masterlist and link for taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @starkeybabie @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @perspectiveparker @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @duskholland @the-claire-bitch-project @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark

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