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princecharmingmendes · 3 years

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Heart by Heart | Chapter IV | Raul Mendes

*secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this is the fourth chapter, you can find the first one here. This one's a bit shorter but I still hope you like it anyway. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!

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*Word Count: 2.9K+.

*Warnings: cursing, jealousy, mentions of weapons (barely any), slight angst (if you squint).

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: July 22nd, 2021.

-*-

Raul was fucked.

He learned that ages ago, but every passing day, it just seemed to get more and more fucked.

Y/N was the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on, he knew that the day he met her all those years ago, while she was still a kid like him. And as the time went on, she proved him wrong every single day, every time he looked at her, in his eyes, Y/N surpassed her own beauty and taking her own title as the pretties one. Raul knew he was a goner the first time he made her laugh, truly laugh, throwing her head back as she almost lost her breath, he knew he would have to do it all over again for the rest of his life just to hear the most beautiful melody ever created.

And maybe he was a fool, and obvious one for not even holding back whenever she was hurt or needed him. He would give Y/N anything in the world and he could be pretty reckless about it. Sure, Raul was capable of keeping it to himself all these years, even from his spy family and her, but Peter was slowly catching onto it and he knew it. There was a reason why Peter wasn’t a field agent and his not so subtle approaches only proved that right. But he honestly didn’t care, as long as he got to have her as his best friend and best girl, he didn’t give a fuck about what the rest of the world thought. He only cared about Y/N.

So watching her progress on the ring (hell, having his ass kicked by her was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him), watching Y/N taking part of such an important role as to plan the mission that would take down one of the biggest criminals on the world left him so proud. He couldn’t even describe it. Watching her sleep peacefully among his bedding, the glimmer of pure and utter happiness whenever she watched one of the marvel movies or ate her favorite cake made butterflies go wild in his stomach.

And as Aaliyah would say, he was probably a simp for her. As sappy as that sounded, it was probably true.

“Still with me, champ?” Y/N’s voice ringed on his coms.

Raul had to hold back a smile as Jack smirked at him on their watching point across the street “Always, doll, see anything?”

“Not really” she muttered annoyedly “think the package is late”

“Oh, sorry the bad guy didn’t show up on the perfect time according to your planner”

“Fuck you, darling, before I forget”

Raul huffed a chuckle as he changed channels on the surveillance system she hacked the night prior.

He was with Jack sitting on his apartment watching Y/N from the perfect window. The initial plan was pretty simple, Y/N would be dressed in casual common clothes, going through her computer on Genoff’s favorite coffee shop, to possibly catch him after coming back, so he could be used to some of their faces on his absence justifying new people around. Her undercover role was as a graphic designer that pretty much had a home office, which would justify her always being around that area. Tommy was the local barista trainee, summer job to pay for his scholarship, and this way he could hear some stuff and also be ready to jump and protect whoever was undercover there that day.

Celine was working on the front desk on Geonoff’s cover up business building, she was replacing the other girl that just left due to maternity leave, so it wouldn’t look suspicious at all. James got the work as an executive driver on a company that often was hired to transport Geonoff himself and his people, and Raul would also be on home office as a free lancer photographer, he’d be in an untitled relationship with Y/N which would be a good cover for them always being out and about together.

They would all be living in the same neighborhood, Peter and Celine would be living in the same apartment complex, which was just next doors to the one Jack, Y/N and Raul were placed. This way it would still be safe and pretty low profile enough to not draw curious eyes. And since the mission didn’t exactly have a precise deadline, they didn’t have a precise date to actually leave, so their flat was poorly furnished and decorated, filled with the ultimate basic things they could need in a month period. And of course, heavily armed in every corner and drawer anyone could think about.

“He just left his car two blocks away, think he might be just a bit behind your schedule, Y/N” Jack called from his place behind the screens she had set up the night before “Tommy, grab the cash register as soon as you can”

“Yes sir” Tom mumbled under his breath.

Raul inched a bit closer to the window on a spot no one could see him from bellow, watching as Geonoff himself entered the shop with two other man right behind him. Probably security team. He had to hold back his breath once he noticed the way the man had his eyes fixated right on Y/N’s table, before quietly muttering something to the other with him.

“Hm, excuse me miss?” a deep slightly hoarse voice caught her attention from the fake project displayed on her computer screen, Y/N looked up to find Geonoff right next to her booth.

“Oh hi”

“Why is he talking to her? He wasn’t supposed to just approach her!” Raul practically growled to Jack as the other just shrugged in response “fuck”

“Dude, calm down, Tom is literally just across the bar and she’s a fucking spy, chill, she knows how to handle this” Jack said shoving Raul’s shoulder playfully, to which he just rolled his eyes huffing in annoyance.

“I know, I know that”

Jack arched his eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips “Is this your way of admitting you love her?”

“Shut up and pay attention to their conversation, you idiot” Raul said pushing his friend off of his sit.

“I'm sorry, I just had to ask, I haven’t such a pretty girl like you around in a while, are you new in town, darling?” Geonoff asked leaning his hip against the sit across from Y/N.

“Oh no, not new in town” she responded with a giggle, trying to ease the nerves and slight nausea from talking to him and his half attempt of flirting “I moved to this neighborhood last month though, used to leave on the other side of the town”

“Oh, was it for work? How are you liking this place so far?”

“It’s nice, I thought it was going to be quieter but it doesn’t really bother me” she said with a soft smile on her features “I moved here because I work from home, so I needed to get out of my last place cause my roommate was not exactly quiet, and my boyfriend said there was an available apartment on his floor, so it just seemed like a great opportunity”

Raul’s heart raced a bit more on his chest when she referred to him as ‘boyfriend’, which was completely stupid. Y/N was his best friend and this was only for a cover. But sometimes his feelings got the best of him.

“Boyfriend? Is he here?”

“Oh no, I think he’s at work now, he’s a photographer”

“It makes sense, he has the prettiest muse at home” he added with a wink, which made Y/N’s stomach twirl in her tummy, this man is absolutely gross and she just wants to find a way out of this conversation “is he joining you today or should I keep you company?”

“Tell him I’m on my way, sweetheart, don’t want this man any closer to you” Raul said through coms, Jack already grabbing his backpack with the material they had separated to be Raul’s cover as he threw a denim jacket and a pair of glasses.

Y/N gave Geonoff a gentle smile as she shrugged before adding “he told me he’d be coming here, something about the cupcakes being the best he’s ever had”

“Oh shut up, this is the worst excuse to get me to buy you cupcake ever” Raul muttered through coms as he jogged across the street and Y/N had to cough to hid a little giggle that threatened to escape at her best friend’s comment.

“Yeah, they’re really good, I think you’d like the chocolate one”

“Okay, thank you for the tip” she said, quickly noticing the mop of curls clumsy coming into the shop, a big grin blossoming on her lips as she waved at the heaving figure of her best friend “oh, there he is!”

Raul’s eyes found hers and he could only smile, forgetting only momentarily that one of the most wanted man in the country was just beside her, he shook his head to gain a bit more focus as he shortened the distance between them with every step “hi baby”

Y/N got up from her sit and was quick to throw her arms around his neck, as he did the same with her waist, planting a kiss to the crown of her head “Hi, honey this is… Oh my, just realized I never caught your name, I’m sorry, that was so rude”

“Geonoff, darling” he said with a smug smile on his lips, probably waiting some sort of reaction and proud of it.

And to Raul’s amusement, Y/N didn’t move a single muscle, didn’t give a single reaction, only offering a polite smile “Oh, nice name, I’m Y/N and this is my boyfriend, Raul”

“Beautiful name, suits such a gorgeous girl like you” he said, eyes on Raul waiting for some sort of response.

“Oh yeah, she doesn’t like it but I’ve always found it beautiful” he said softly.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys alone now, nice meeting the two of you” Geonoff said as his guards approached him with a paper bag “and Y/N, let me know if you need anything, I’m always around”

“Thank you” she said before pulling Raul to sit by her side on the booth as Geonoff walked out of the little shop “how was your day, honey?”

“Good, angel, got a couple of photos I think you’d like to see whenever we get home” he said throwing his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“You two are gross to watch” Jack grumbled through the coms making them both laugh.

Y/N turned her head to face him “you wanna go home to show me or you want to grab a cup of coffee first?”

“I think I want a bit of coffee, but we can order it to go, yeah?”

“Sure, whatever you want” Y/N said before sliding off the booth and pulling him with her, before stuffing her computer on her little backpack, which Raul promptly took from her.

“Come on, baby, can’t wait to lay down a bit” he ushered her to the register, where Tom waited patiently for them “hello there, I’d like an espresso please”

“Sure, anything else?” Tommy asked as he clicked on the little screen.

“Do you want anything, baby?”

“A red velvet cupcake to go, please”

Tom nodded looking a little nervous before speaking up “the other man with the security guards left this note and cupcake for you, ma’am” he then grabbed the little pastry and a fancy business card alongside it.

“Oh, I- are you sure it was for me?” she asked in disbelief as Raul tightened his arm around her.

Tom only nodded in response “positive, do you still want the red velvet one?”

“I- yes, please” Y/N let out before almost chocking on air, gently grabbing the card that contained the business information from his company (that she already had) and a little handwritten phrase next to a phone number, the note read ‘if you’re ever looking for a real man, let me know’.

“Someone’s got a crush on you” Raul teased trying to mask the anger bubbling up on his throat, but he knew she saw right through his facade. After all, Y/N knew him better than anyone else.

“Well, I feel bad for him, because I’m already taken, yeah?” she giggled at herself, lightly poking his chest to try and loosen his nerves a bit.

“Yeah, since I have you, know that I’m never letting you go” Raul pressed a kiss to her head huffing a small chuckle.

“Here it is, sir” Tom cut Raul out before handing him the paper bag, and he placed the money on Tom’s hand.

Raul offered a smile as he lead Y/N back to their place “Thank you, take care, kid”

As they were crossing the street, Y/N dropped the cupcake from Geonoff on the sidewalk, making it look like an accident as she cried out an ‘oh no, I can’t believe I dropped it!’ before tossing it on the bin. On the elevator to their apartment, Raul still seemed tense and too quiet for his normal self, but Y/N decided to drop it, maybe give him some time to deal with today.

Just as they opened the door, Jack was quick to pull them inside, grabbing the card from Y/N’s hand and tossing it into a special bag and running downstairs, probably to deliver it to a team so they could take it to the lab to run some tests. Celine was stretched on the couch, a knowing look in her eyes as she signaled for them to join her. Raul went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water in complete silence as Y/N sank down on the soft cushions with Celine.

“What’s wrong with him?” she muttered quietly, since there were no walls separating the rooms on this flat, only the bedroom and bathroom and Raul was standing pretty close.

Y/N sighed with a shrug “No clue, maybe just didn’t expect the interaction to go like that, I don’t know”

“By the way, you did great, he even got interested in you”

“Ew, no need to remind me, seriously that man is just gross, there’s something about him that’s just creepy, and I’m not even bringing up his criminal record” Y/N added grabbing a bottle water that Raul tossed at her after she nodded at him.

Celine nodded in understanding “Don't blame you, I think I would’ve punched him five seconds into talking”

“You wouldn’t last a single second with him talking” Jack said as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N and Celine laughed as Raul joined them on the couch, sitting on the armrest right behind Y/N as she leaned her weight on him. He threw an arm around her.

“I think we should order a pizza and have some beer, yeah? This was a successful day, Tom’s gonna be here any minute now and Raul didn’t die out of jealousy in 24h, only reasons to celebrate!”

“Don’t start celebrating now, Jack, he might combust at any second now” Celine said with a laugh and Y/N giggled shaking her head, looking up at him only to see his serious expression and a light pink tinting his cheeks.

“So, pizza and beer it is?” Jack asked pulling his phone.

“I think it’s a great idea” Tom said as he climbed through the back window.

“Okay, Jack, order the pizzas and grab us the beer” Y/N decided and Jack stared at her in shock.

“Why me?!”

“So you can do something useful for once instead of gossiping” Raul said playfully and Y/N smiled at that as Jack feigned hurt with a dramatic gasp.

“Well, there’s that and the fact that this genius idea belongs to you, doesn’t it?” Y/N asked

Jack stared at her and nodded “Well yeah but-“

“Then make it happen, darling” Y/N only threw a wink at him and he shook his head, but grabbing his phone to start ordering.

“Hey Tom, can I see the piece you brought back?” Celine asked without moving from her place on the couch.

Y/N took the opportunity to properly face Raul since the others were seemingly busy, so she cupped his face gently bringing his attention down at her “are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course I am, doll” he said turning his face to place a kiss at the palm of her hand before looking back at her.

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem fine five minutes ago”

“I just didn’t think he’d take such an interest on you so soon, I mean, you’re insanely gorgeous so it was obvious he was going to notice you, I guess I was just unconsciously hoping he wouldn’t” Raul sighed leaning his head against her hand and she let it slide on his face until she was able to curl her fingers on his hair “it’s stupid, I’m sorry, I was just being stupid yeah? Let’s focus on something else and relax”

“Are you sure?” she asked tugging on his hair a bit as he closed his eyes, nodding his head softly and she sighed “okay”

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

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elwenyere · 4 years

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A Very Small Grease Fire (and Other Human Disasters)

(Thanksgiving ficlet for the Stony and Avengers fam; also on AO3)

The Avengers didn’t have the best track record with Thanksgiving. The first time the dinner had ended in disaster, it had been Steve’s fault. One rainy fall Sunday, just months after the Battle of New York, Steve had been picking at a bowl of mint-chip ice cream, feeling tired of getting looks of sympathy about the holidays and absolutely exhausted by feeling sorry for himself. If Bruce and Clint hadn’t chosen that particular afternoon to ask him whether there was anything special he wanted for Thanksgiving – raising the question with just enough gentleness to make Steve’s jaw tighten – he probably would have said, “I’m a sweet potatoes guy” and left it at that.

Instead, Steve had been seized by a spirit of mischief. Putting on his most morose poker face, he had proceeded to invent a series of Depression-era dishes, from “Hoover Rolls” to “Poor Man’s Potatoes,” the recipes for which he concocted out of the blandest ingredients he could imagine. By the time he was in the process of describing his third Crisco-based dessert, Steve was sure he had gone far enough to reveal the joke; but Bruce and Clint had continued nodding encouragingly and jotting down notes.

The results had been borderline inedible. And even though the sight of Tony doubled over with laughter when Steve finally fessed up had thawed out a part of his heart he hadn’t even known was still on ice, the experience of eating a holiday dinner in which half the dishes tasted like over-starched socks forced even Steve to admit that the prank had been a bit of a Pyrrhic victory.

The second time…well, Steve would have said the second time was his fault too – though he supposed the rest of the team would blame the extremists who tried to kidnap the governor. Clint had just started basting the turkey when the “Assemble” alarm went off, and the team had to pile in the Quinjet to deal with a hostage situation at the capitol. It should have been an easy job – in and out with plenty of time to take the butter for the piecrust out of the freezer – but then one of the extremists had pulled the pin on a grenade just yards away from a state senator’s eight-year-old son, and four hours later Steve was waking up in the burn unit at Walter Reed hospital with the anguished sound of someone shouting his name still ringing in his ears.

“You fucking idiot,” the same voice had greeted him, and Steve looked up to see Tony sitting by his bed, the lines around his eyes drawn tight over a surgical mask. “You’re supposed to be a tactical genius, and you haven’t learned a single new method for containing explosives since basic training in 1943? I’m going to equip your suit with goddamn ballistic plates.”

“Tony,” Steve managed, feeling a halo of pain radiate up his scalp. “Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?”

Steve thought he saw something mist across Tony’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. The more fully he became aware of his body, the more he noticed the pull of his skin cells contracting in uneven loops around the burns on his torso, and it was taking a considerable amount of energy to keep Tony’s face in focus.

“Everybody’s fine but you, Steve,” Tony assured him. “And the doctors said you should be able to move to the general floor in a few hours. So shut those baby blues and let the serum do its job, because there’s a whole team of keyed-up superheroes waiting to see you, and they’re emptying the hospital vending machines fast enough to cause a run on the Frito-Lay factory.”

Steve had drifted in and out of consciousness for a while after that, finally waking up long enough to eat a holiday dinner of contraband take-out, which Natasha had smuggled into the hospital using only Thor’s tendency to knock over delicate instruments and Bruce’s oversized jacket.

“When you sign up to be an Avenger, no one warns you about doing overtime as a falafel mule,” Bruce had mused, leaning back to let Natasha steal a fry off his plate.

“I still think we could have gotten that eighth kebab if you’d been willing to consider pant legs as additional real estate,” she told him.

"You should all be eating stuffing and pumpkin pie,” Steve grimaced. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here on Thanksgiving.”

“Listen, Cap,” Clint replied, waving a dolma at him, “if you’re going to apologize for anything, apologize for the purgatory potatoes you tricked me into making last year. At least this year we have food that doesn’t have the texture of fast-drying cement.”

“Those tubers had truly been abandoned by the gods,” Thor agreed solemnly. “But I maintain that the Big Band Banana Pie was actually quite delicious.”

“Just don’t make the third-degree burns and hypovolemic shock a holiday habit, Rogers,” Tony put in. “Some of us are trying to watch our blood pressure.”

Tony had leaned over to adjust the settings on Steve’s bed as he spoke, and by the time he finished, a dull tugging sensation across Steve’s chest had loosened – the pain subsiding almost before Steve could register that it had been bothering him.

So that was why, after two years of throwing wrenches in the Avengers’ Thanksgiving plans, Steve was determined to make sure that year three went off without a hitch. He’d drawn up an elaborate plan for maximizing the utility of the Tower kitchen’s two ovens and seven burners and for optimizing the team’s various culinary skills. The operatives had been briefed the night before, and by 10:30 AM on Thursday, Steve was fluting a pie crust, Bruce was stripping fresh thyme leaves into an herb blend, Clint was whipping up a roux for the mushroom gravy, Thor was mashing potatoes and parsnips in an industrial-strength metal vat, and Natasha was dicing carrots and celery with a speed and precision that felt vaguely unsettling.

After checking the team’s progress against his itinerary, Steve turned to the next task on his own list: bringing Tony Stark his emergency coffee. Bruce had just made a second pot, and Steve poured some into the largest cup he could find: a purple novelty mug, featuring a drawing of the Hulk and the words “You Wouldn’t Like Me Without My Coffee.” He paused to tuck a few biscuits into a napkin (Tony’s relief at sighting fresh coffee sometimes opened up a narrow window during which Steve could feed him breakfast without being noticed), and headed down to the lab.

He found Tony standing with both arms braced against his worktable, designs for what looked like the paneling of Steve’s uniform projected in front of him. Steve cleared his throat, and Tony whirled around, the slump of his shoulders morphing into a graceful lounge by the time he was facing Steve.

“I was just about to come up,” he said. “I have a few finishing touches left here and then I’m all yours, Cap. Give me everything that can survive being the tiniest bit overcooked.”

Steve walked over to put Tony’s coffee on the table and then felt his breath catch in his throat when Tony reached out and took the mug from his hand instead.

“There’s no need,” Steve responded to cover his reaction, flexing the hand that had brushed Tony’s as he let it fall back to his side. “We’ve got the schedule covered for now. I was actually hoping I could talk you into a snack break.”

He waved the napkin of biscuits experimentally.

“Are you cutting me from the Thanksgiving roster, Rogers?” Tony asked. “Just because one time I set a very small grease fire – which I contained almost immediately, by the way.”

“The vase I broke when I sprinted into the kitchen would beg to differ,” Steve smiled. “But it’s not that. I just wanted to do this for you: a big dinner and sitting down with family.”

“For me?” Tony blinked at him. “Why?”

Steve started to cross his arms across his chest before realizing that he would risk crushing the biscuits. He settled for clasping his wrist with his free hand instead, widening his stance slightly and taking a deep breath. Come on, Rogers. Take it on the chin.

“Because I wanted to tell you that I woke up in this century alone,” he said, “and that you were the first person stubborn enough to make sure I wouldn’t stay that way. Now I wake up to a kitchen full of people who tease me about my lists but who know why I need them – who will eat dinner rolls that taste like soggy chalk just to make me feel at home.” He paused. “People who stay by my side for eight straight hours at the hospital.”

Steve looked up and caught Tony’s eyes, his heart rate picking up speed as memories of those same eyes flashed through his mind in quick succession: tearing up with laughter over a plate of cornstarched bananas, pinched with fear over a surgical mask, narrowed in concentration over the remote control for an adjustable bed.

“Romanov has an awfully big mouth for a spy,” Tony said with a rueful smile.

“I think it was a tactical leak,” Steve acknowledged, “to motivate her mark. She knew I needed a push. Because I’ve messed up the past two years, and I needed to tell you: pretty much everything I’m thankful for in my new life is here because of you.”

Tony was staring at him, his eyes darting quickly across Steve’s face as if JARVIS were scanning it for data. Steve held up under the silent scrutiny as long as he could before letting out an explosive breath.

“Anyway, sorry to interrupt you,” he said quickly. “You’ve got work to do, and I’ve got to go make sure everything’s on track upstairs. I’ll uh – I’ll have Bruce come get you when dinner’s ready.”

He started to make an about face toward the door, but Tony caught his arm and held him in place.

“Give a guy a goddamn minute, Steve,” he said softly. “I’m having to do a major cognitive reboot over here. It takes a while for the operating system to come back online. Just…sit down? Let me show you the new flame retardants I’m adding to your uniform.”

Steve complied. And as he watched Tony run through the specs, gulping coffee and nibbling absently at the biscuits, he realized that he knew what Tony was saying even before Tony finally spoke the words: “I’m thankful every time you wake up.”

#stony #stevetony #stony fic #festive ficlets #avengers as family #idiots in love #they're human disasters your honor #this got out of hand #and personally I blame every single character in this Tower #happy thanksgiving #stony fam

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pinklacedarling · 4 years

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🍙 MEMORIES OF YOU 🍙

🍙 Pairing: Osamu x F!Reader 🍙 Summary: Osamu fondly looks back on your years together. 🍙 Contents: Fluff, Post-Timeskip || 🍙 Word Count: 1.8k 🍙 Masterlist: Link

Osamu liked to look back to when the two of you were still in high school. He remembers how you two met, being partnered together for a project in your first year, and quickly took notice of everything. Everything that is you, to be precise.

Everything from your cute, little mannerisms to how your soft hair framed your face, and especially how your eyes seemed to sparkle whenever he got you your favorite drink from the vending machines. He couldn’t pinpoint why you had fascinated him so much, but Osamu made it a point to learn as much as he could about you.

He remembers the first time you hung out together, just the two of you. He had taken you to a food fair, finding your company pleasant as conversation flowed between the two of you with ease. He remembers how you laughed at him when he put too much spice on one of his snacks - you teasing him while he proceeded to chug down two bottles of water - before snatching it away to happily finish the rest. Osamu learned the ungodly amount of spice you could handle that day.

Osamu managed to convince you to attend one of his volleyball matches one day. When you admitted to him, over video chat that night after the match, that you knew nothing about volleyball he spent the entire night teaching you about the sport. He was afraid that talking to you about something you had no interest in would push you away, but he was pleasantly surprised when you started asking him about stuff you didn’t understand. It was such a small thing, but seeing you take an interest in one of the few things he liked did weird things to his heart.

It didn’t take long before you were regularly attending his matches - you even took a selfie every time, your face on one side of the frame while the court was seen from the background, and sent it to him as proof that you were there to cheer him and his team on. He could still remember how much Suna had teased him when the middle blocker found out that Osamu had saved all your selfies in a folder on his phone.

The day you got your heart broken was a day Osamu would never forget. He remembers skipping practice, much to his twin’s annoyance, and walking you home. You were quiet during the walk, opting to keep your head low as your cheeks still sported some redness from your crying earlier. He was quiet too, silently cursing the guy that rejected you and wondering why.

It wasn’t until the two of you were at your front gate did Osamu break the silence.

“Go out with me instead,” he said, “I can treat ya way better than that scrub.”

He took you on a date the following weekend, and he could still remember the mixture of emotions that filled his heart when you told him at the end of your date that you were glad you got rejected.

“S’fine that he rejected me. It’s good, actually, cause we might’ve never gone on this date otherwise...” You had said in a soft tone, eyes refusing to meet his as a blush settled on your cheeks. He remembers how cute you were at that moment, shuffling nervously as you both stood outside your house. He also remembers how you suddenly pulled him down and gave him a peck on the cheek before shouting and promptly slamming your front door in his face.

“I really like you, and I’m real lucky that you like me too, Mu-mu!”

Osamu really likes that nickname.

He remembers how you came rushing into the gym one day after he had another fight with Atsumu. He told you that he was fine, but you kept worrying over him and even got him some snacks to make him feel better. He remembers his twin’s voice ringing out, accusing you of playing favorites even though you also got the blonde setter some snacks of his own.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Miya. Mu-mu is!” You had replied, putting emphasis on their surname before sticking out your tongue at him in a childish manner. Osamu would never forget the look of shock and disgust on his brother’s face, nor the fact that you just called him your boyfriend for the very first time.

He also remembers your first kiss. He had jokingly asked for a good luck kiss before one of his games and was surprised when you agreed. Osamu still felt some embarrassment over it, remembering how, in his nervous state, knocked your foreheads together so hard that it took you both a minute to compose yourselves. You both laughed about it afterwards and got it right on the next try.

Ever since then, Osamu always asked for a kiss before a game, and you happily obliged.

The first time you told him you loved him was also an important memory for Osamu. He remembers how distant you’ve been the week prior and it worried him to no end, thinking he might’ve done something to upset you or worse, that you were getting tired of being with him. He managed to corner you after a match, catching you before you managed to get lost in the crowd and leading you two somewhere more quiet. In hindsight, he should’ve asked you calmly instead of demanding what was wrong.

He remembers panicking when he saw tears in your eyes, shooting out apologies for shouting at you so suddenly. Turns out it was all just a misunderstanding. You explained to him, through your tears, that you were having a hard time with your homework the past week, and with a match coming up you didn’t want to bother him about it. Osamu instantly felt guilty for your tears, but also felt relief wash over him.

“I thought ya might’ve been gettin’ bored of me.” He admitted as he held you close, wiping away the last of your tears.

You pouted, confusion written all over your face. “Osamu, you idiot, I’d never get bored of you! I love you, after all!”

Osamu froze at that, his brain trying to process what you had just said, so casually too. He didn’t respond for a while as he stared down at you, watching as you tilted your head at his silence.

He managed to stutter out an ‘I love ya too’ after a while, the tips of his ears growing red, and you wouldn’t stop teasing him for a month about how he stuttered so cutely - one that he vehemently denies every time you bring it up.

There were so many memories of you that Osamu would always let his mind freely wander through them, daydreaming about anything and everything that is you, no matter where he was. Perhaps that’s why you were currently snapping your fingers in front of his face, a worried expression on your features as he focused back on the present.

“Mu-mu, is everything alright?” You asked, brows furrowed as you sat at the bar of an empty Onigiri Miya. There was an empty plate sitting in front of you, telling him that you had finished the extra spicy onigiri he always made for you. “You were spacing out. You’re not overworking yourself again, are you?”

“M’not.” He says, all too quickly for your liking, before taking the plate and cleaning up.

“Liar!” You accused, and he could clearly see the cute pout on your face despite having his back to you. “Y’know I don’t mind helping you clean up at closing time, right?”

“S’fine, I can handle it.” Osamu made sure everything was in order before circling the counter, wrapping his arms around your waist as you stood from your seat. “Besides, yer tired too, aren’tcha?” You guiltily avoided his eyes, making him chuckle. “You comin’ to pick me up every night is more than enough.”

He leans down to give you a peck, but immediately recoils once he tastes the spice that still lingered on your lips. “I thought you’re fine with spicy stuff now?” You giggled, watching as he tried to shake it off.

“I can handle it, but yer on a whole different level when it comes to spice.” He grumbles, ruffling your hair and placing a kiss on your temple before letting you go, opting to hold your hand instead. His eyes flickered down for a second, catching the glint of the golden band that circled one of your fingers.

He smiles.

You giggle, pulling him outside and humming to yourself as he begins to lock up. “Oh, by the way, ‘Tsumu called me earlier.” He hears you say, “He said that you weren’t answering his messages. Something about attending his next game so he could have free onigiris right after his match. Seriously, your brother’s such a handful!”

“In a few months he’s gonna be yer brother too, y’know.” Osamu retorts, amused as a look of horror crosses your face.

“Ah, you’re right!” You wailed, dramatically putting a finger under your chin in thought. “Maybe I could still get out of this…”

Osamu laughs at that, trapping you in his arms. “No way. You already said ‘yes’ so there’s no backin’ out now.”

He hears you whine, but you snuggle closer to him. “Mmm, you’re right. I’ll tolerate him for you, Mu-mu.” You laugh, “Plus I love you too much to ever leave.”

His heart swells at this.

“You love me too, don’tcha?” You ask, looking up at him with a cheeky smile, and he takes a moment to appreciate how, even after all your years together, you were still able to mesmerize him with your entire being.

“Yeah,” he smiles, watching as your cheeks turn pink. “I love ya.”

“Lots and lots?”

“Lots an’ lots.”

Osamu takes your hand in his again, giving yours a light squeeze before leading you both back home. His mind begins to wander again, to everything the two of you had been through together, and he glances at you beside him. This too, would make a good memory, he thinks. Nevermind how seemingly boring or mundane it was. Any memory with you in it was worth remembering, down to the very last detail.

His mind wanders, and this time he finds himself thinking of the future. Osamu smiles to himself as he thinks about your upcoming birthday, that trip you two had planned together, and even your wedding day. Heck, he even thought about when you might have a child together.

There were so many memories waiting to be made with you, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t excited about every single one of them. But there was no need to lie to himself, was there? After all, Osamu loved you, and he’ll continue to love you for years to come.

A/N: My first post! Admittedly I was only going for a drabble, but before I knew it I had typed down so much so I hope whoever reads this likes it!

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu x you #miya osamu x you #miya osamu #haikyuu!! x reader #darling's writings

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catboymingi · 4 years

Text

bittersweet

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff; best friends to strangers to enemies to lovers

word count: 7.7k

warnings: self harm, mental illness, suicidal thoughts (though no behaviour described in detail at all), addiction (alcoholism to be precise), language

a/n: this one’s heavy... also this is heavily based on personal experience so don’t come jumping at me for inaccuracies thank u - also the links during the story take you to the same song as the first link, but they have the swedish og lyrics on hover (sorry mobile users)

när jag var liten kändes alltid som att det var du och jag mot skiten / så jag ville att vi skulle göra allt tillsammans / men jag märkte tydligt att du ville nånting annat / behandlade mig sämst / vi var bara ungar - when i was small it always felt like it was you and me against the world / so i wanted us to do everything together / but i noticed clearly that you wanted something else / treated me worst / we were just kids

you had no idea what happened. you’d been so close with mingi ever since you moved, him being the first friend you’d made in the new school, and eight-year-old you really appreciated him. he fought off the bullies for you, he was always there, but suddenly he wasn’t. you were in high school, and everything had been as always, until it wasn’t. until he started avoiding you like you had a deadly and contagious disease, like you’d killed his parents. he hated you and you had no idea why, had no idea why your best friend suddenly decided that some random people he’d barely ever talked to before were a better company than you, who’d been with him through thick and thin for the past decade. saying that you were heartbroken was an understatement.

it took you so long to get back on track after the day mingi had started avoiding you, hating you, but eventually, you managed to do it. you banned all thoughts of him from your head, deleted all messages, pictures, and other traces of him you had on your phone and got rid of all physical memories, too. your parents knew you weren’t okay, and they were so relieved when you asked them if you could set something on fire in the backyard, because it finally seemed like you were getting closer to healing. it had been months, and they’d been worried for your life, but they had no idea how to get your now ex-best friend to reach out to you. they couldn’t call him up and just tell him that he needed to talk to you before you killed yourself, even though they wished they could.

by the time you started university you were almost back to normal, the only outward signs of what you’d gone through being the scars covering your arms and your refusal to drink alcohol, at all. you got obsessed with your major, studying to become a therapist so that you could maybe, hopefully help people feel understood and okay when they were in a similar situation to the one you’d been in. this passion made you the best of your year, acing all exams because every free minute was spent on revising the materials and taking on extra projects and doing all you could to keep yourself busy.

but you weren’t okay, not actually. the worry was still there, the fear, and it was the reason why you hadn’t made a single friend even when the fourth semester of university was almost over already. it was after a particularly hard exam (that of course you’d aced again) that you, for the first time since your other half had left, agreed to go out with someone, a random dude from your course that you’d consequently ignored up to that point who invited you to some maths major’s party.

“it’s gonna be fun, and we deserve some fun after that fucking hell of an exam” was how he had convinced you, and you decided that it couldn’t hurt.

what you didn’t know then yet, however, was that he’d ditch you the second you’d taken off your jacket at the party that same evening, saying that if he’d known that you were a nutcase he’d never have asked you out.

“you’re hot but that’s just not what i wanna put up with.” and that from a psychology major. great.

the evening got worse when you found out whose party this was. you didn’t even know that mingi went to the same uni as you, and he’d obviously moved out of his parents’ house by now, so the address didn’t ring a bell, either. it was first when you saw him that you realised. and everything came crashing down on you again, all the things you’d convinced yourself you were over. and even though you’d promised yourself you’d never touch alcohol again, not even cough medicine including it, you broke that promise now, going straight for the hard liquor. that seemed to impress the horny idiots around you, how you downed it without even flinching, and because you didn’t care about what you should and shouldn’t do right now you let the first one to make a move touch you up and down, making out with you (which had effectively stolen your first kiss from you, but what did it even matter anymore?) and whispering to your ear just how hot you were. you didn’t care for him, but you knew that the one you cared for couldn’t give fewer shits about you. you were tired of being alone, of being hurt, of being lonely, and you just wanted to forget. so you let this dude whose name you didn’t know and didn’t care to know make out with you on the kitchen counter, because by now there was no way your situation could get any worse anymore, anyway.

your lack of interest seemingly didn’t stay hidden to him, though, so at some point he left you with a displeased grunt. it was obvious he’d expected a little more excitement from you, and now he was looking for the next drunk girl he could get to fuck him. you didn’t care. you got some more alcohol, pushing every thought of your parents as far away as you could, because you knew they’d be so disappointed. they’d always cared, but it hadn’t changed anything for you. the one you needed to care didn’t even notice how you were slipping. you’d be surprised if he’d even known that you got hospitalised after graduation.

but now you were here, in his house, and you hated it, hated him, hated yourself. you wanted to get out, to disappear before he’d ever even notice you’d been there in the first place, so you stole a bottle of whatever was closest to you and left the house.

it was embarrassing that you weren’t even drunk yet. you had no idea how much you’d drunk, but you barely felt tipsy. so when the one you wanted to leave you alone the most came outside after you, you had to deal with the emotions that that caused in you entirely sober.

“the fuck do you want?” you hadn’t expected yourself to be able to be angry at him when you’d get to talk to him again. you’d expected yourself to cry, to break down and beg for him to come back, but maybe at least that the alcohol saved you from.

“i want to check up on you. since when do you drink?”

you hated him. you fucking hated him more than anything else you’d ever hated, except for maybe yourself, and you hated that he thought he had the right to check up on you now when he was the reason you were even in this state at all.

“let’s see. i think you last talked to me on the fifteenth of january, two years ago? so it’s gotta be the sixteenth.” maybe it wasn’t fair to confront him with the effects of what he did like this, but it hadn’t been fair of him to leave you hanging like this either. he deserved this, deserved to know what the fuck he’d done to you. that he’d destroyed the happy, passionate, excited you that you’d been, replacing her with a bitter, suicidal bitch with trust issues through the roof.

“why?” he seemed confused, and you wanted to spit in his face. you wanted to punch him. you wanted anything but to have to talk to him.

“take a wild fucking guess.” and with those words you turned on your heel, leaving him with his emotions as you left with the bottle of alcohol that wouldn’t make it to the next morning.

you were slipping again. picked up all the bad habits you’d had, barely getting sleep because you still had to study, were still obsessed with getting the best grades, but now also had unhealthy habits to feed, so there wasn’t a lot of time left for sleep. it didn’t matter, though - why sleep if you’d only have nightmares either way?

luckily you didn’t see mingi again after that night. that was, until he’d somehow figured out your major, your classes, your schedule, and was waiting for you in front of your classroom after your last class for the day. you tried to bolt, but he grabbed your wrist instinctively to keep you from running away. when you yelped out in pain, though, he let go as if he’d just burned himself. until now he hadn’t even noticed what you looked like. but now that he did, it broke his heart.

“what do you want now? want to fuck me up again? because i can do that by myself now, thank you very much.” your voice shot daggers at him, and he looked like a hit puppy. what made this worse was that he knew you were right.

“please talk to me. i brought vodka.” he didn’t intend to give it to you, but you didn’t have to know that. and his weak bribing worked, which only made him feel even more awful. just how fucking hurt did you have to be to talk to him, the guy you very obviously hated, just because he offered you free booze?

“come.” and you did, followed him to a park near uni you knew was notorious for getting fucked or wasted, and you intended to keep up this reputation as you sat down next to him.

“alcohol.” it wasn’t even a question, you just demanded the bottle, but he wasn’t about to comply.

“first you talk to me.”

the angry glare you gave him could have killed him had you kept it up for longer than a couple seconds, but you sighed in frustration and looked away.

“fine then, talk. but this vodka better be damn good.”

he didn’t know how to start, though. ran his hands through his hair and shifted constantly and looked everywhere but at you. but then, finally, he got his shit together.

“what happened to you?” his eyes were fixed on your arms, the arms whose skin was a lot smoother and healthier the last time he’d seen it, and his voice was soft, almost as if he cared. maybe it was because of that that your reply held less sharpness than the past ones had.

“what do you think?” and his heart broke. he didn’t want it to be him, he didn’t want this to be because of him, he didn’t want to be at fault for so much pain and suffering.

“it’s me.” and when you nodded he wished someone’d beat him up, hard and good, just so he’d feel at least some pain as a payback for all the pain he’d caused you.

your voice was surprisingly soft when you continued, and you didn’t even know why yourself.

“it’s nothing big. i just… slipped, i guess. had a really hard time. i don’t even know what happened to make you hate me like that, and that got to me. like, we didn’t argue or anything, so it wasn’t like i had a reason to stop caring about you. it just felt like without you nothing mattered.”

you sounded calm, collected, but voicing it like this brought back all the hurt, and you just really wanted the alcohol now. you grabbed around him in order to retrieve the bottle from his bag, but he caged you in a hug, effectively making you unable to move.

“it’s a big deal. fuck, y/n, look at you. how is this not a big deal? you can’t even talk to me without getting wasted.”

and even though he was right you hated how it sounded like that was your fault, not his. you hated how it sounded like you were weak for this when he had no idea what the fuck you’d been through these past two years. it made you angry.

“and you’re better? straight up ignoring me for however long it took me to get the hint like some pussy instead of talking to me? we used to be best friends, for fuck’s sake!” you tried to hide your heartbrokenness behind this anger, and once more the person who used to always be there to hold you when you needed it let go of you as if you’d burned him. not even now could he man up.

“you know what? fuck this. fuck your vodka and fuck you. don’t fucking talk to me again. as i said, i’m fucking my life up enough without you there to aid in the process.” and you tried to get up, but he grabbed you by your waist, not wanting to hurt you but refusing to let you go in this state when he hadn’t even gotten to talk to you yet. it was selfish, he knew it was, but he wanted to explain himself. he didn’t know if it’d help you, but he needed the closure. he needed you to know why he’d acted like that and then decide if you still wanted to hate him.

“i’m not letting go”, he said as you struggled in his grip, “not until you’ve listened.”

“i don’t fucking want to hear it!” now you were yelling, and it was only because everyone else in this park was too busy or too knocked out to fully comprehend what was happening that he wasn’t getting his ass beat by a stranger coming to your aid.

“you’re going to listen. you know i’m stronger.” this was an asshole move. it was a massive asshole move, using his strength against you to keep you trapped with him. but your state had him throw out any ethical concerns he otherwise would’ve had, instead pulling you into his lap and holding you tightly.

“then fucking talk and get this over with.” your body had gone slack in his arms, because you knew struggling against him wasn’t going to work. your voice still held the same sharpness to it though. you really hated him.

“you act like i didn’t have a reason”, he started quietly, covering your mouth with his hand when you tried to interrupt him. “but i did. the fuck do you think i felt when you kept being better at everything than me? everything was easy for you, you just went with your feeling, and i was doing awful but i kept trying even though it was hard as shit and you didn’t even notice. you went out to meet people and have a good time while i was sitting home alone trying to keep up. you didn’t even care. i told you i couldn’t join and every single time you just said ‘okay, another time then!’. you didn’t notice how much i missed you. and i got sick and tired of being the only one that’s missing their best friend.”

you listened to what he said and couldn’t believe he was serious right now. he completely broke you because you didn’t spend enough time with him?

“what the fuck, mingi. what the fuck. you wrecked me because you were sulky about me not being around 24/7? let go of me right now or i’m going to break your nose, you know i will.” he knew you would, so he did as you told him to, but not without trying to defend himself.

“it wasn’t that, it was that you never even tried to make follow-up plans! you kept going out with other friends, friends that didn’t have to spend all their nights home studying. you just replaced me.”

“and you didn’t think to fucking talk to me about it? i missed you like crazy, you fucking asshole, but i went out with others because i knew you had to study and because i didn’t want to keep you from that. because i dared to care more about your success than about what i wanted. and then you just dumped me, one day to the next, without an explanation, because you thought i didn’t care? does breaking off all other social contacts look like not caring to you? do hospitalisations look like not caring to you? does this”, you motioned to yourself, “look like not caring to you? i knew you were a coward, but back then i thought it was cute. now i just think it’s pathetic.” you all but spat those last words at his face, and he knew you were right. he knew all that now, but back then he’d been so scared of losing you that he forced himself to lose you. fucking idiotic.

“you act like it didn’t hurt me, too.”

“you sure didn’t act like it when you started fucking around with some people you’d never even talked to right after you decided ignoring me was the way to go!” you were crying now, crying and screaming at him, and you despised yourself for the vulnerability you were showing.

“give me the vodka, mingi.” but he didn’t. and when you tried to grab it he took the bag from you, leaving you staring into the air.

“give me the fucking vodka or i’m gonna leave right now and get my own. and then you’re never gonna see me again.”

but instead of handing you the bottle he all but jumped up, wrapping his arms around you tightly and sounding so incredibly desperate that you felt your anger vanish at his next words.

“please don’t- please don’t do that. please don’t kill yourself. hate me, break my nose, whatever, but please don’t go like that. i can’t handle it. i’m nothing without you.”

and it was now that he started crying, tears soaking the fabric on your shoulder, shaking as if there was an earthquake inside of him that would make him fall to shambles any second. you hadn’t even realised that you might have implied what he obviously thought you meant - what you meant was that this time you’d be the one to ignore him, pretending he didn’t even exist. but his reaction to potentially losing you in a whole new way made you think that maybe, he cared.

“i’m not going to kill myself over you, butthead.” and while your words held a similar level of sharpness to them as they had before, your voice was much softer, calmer - you patted his hands that were linked together in front of your stomach to keep you from leaving, trying to comfort him for whatever reason. he didn’t deserve it, and you were still so angry at him, but he’d been your best friend, your other half, and you still didn’t like to see him suffer like this, even though the part in you that wanted him to feel all the pain you’d felt wouldn’t agree.

“i don’t want to lose you again”, he whimpered against your shoulder. “i never want to lose you again.”

“so what’s your plan? i’m never gonna forget what you did, mingi, i’m never gonna forget how as soon as i start getting happy you come back, crashing into my life as if nothing had happened. i’m never going to let anyone hold me back again.”

“i’m not going to hold you back”, he pleadingly spoke into your skin, “i’m not going to message you, i’m not going to ask to meet up, i’m not going to wait in front of your class, nothing. i’ll only be there when you ask me to.”

“and you think that’d help? having me do all the work again, having me beg for your attention again? you think that’s even remotely what i want?” you weren’t angry at him, because it seemed like he was saying this for you, but you were frustrated. he still didn’t seem to understand at all what you wanted from him, what you’d wanted from him ever since he started ignoring you. you wanted him to fight for you, not vice versa.

“then let me fight for you. let me do the work. i’ll do anything, just please give me another chance. one very last chance. and please… stop all this.” you didn’t need to see him to know what he meant.

“that’s not how it works. i can’t just stop like that when i started. and you’re not gonna be able to fix me, if you think that.”

“i know, of course not, but… please try. it’s summer break soon. maybe then you could… i don’t know what you could. do something. i want to be there for you.”

you didn’t want to give in to him. you didn’t want to believe him. you wanted to keep being angry, you wanted to keep hating him, you didn’t want to risk the same kind of heartbreak you’d felt the first time he left. but this was mingi. and even though you refused to admit it even to yourself, you still missed him like crazy.

“let go.” and he did, hesitantly, but he did as you told him to.

“look at me. look me in the eyes and tell me you know what that’s gonna mean. tell me that you’ll be there when i’m in rehab and can’t go places and i’m angry as shit and hate everything and everyone and mainly you because you made me go to that stupid place. tell me you’ll be there when i relapse, not just once but so many times, and that you won’t get angry. tell me that you fucking know what it means, that you know you won’t be a priority, that there’s gonna be days where i won’t want to hear from you at all. tell me that you know you’re gonna have to fight for me, and tell me that you will. and if you can’t tell me that, let me leave right now to spare both of us the pain because it’s just gonna be a waste of time otherwise.”

“i’ll be there. every single day, or like. whenever i’m allowed to, i don’t know how rehab works. and when i can’t be there i’ll call you and text you, even if you hate me. i’ll hold you until you don’t hate me anymore. even if i have to spend the entire day holding you that’s how it is. i don’t fucking care what i’ll have to do, i’ll do it all. i miss you.” with those last words he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as he whispered a silent ‘please’ into your hair. and you didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to get your hopes up, but part of you was still so soft for him. so, even though your mind was screaming at you to tell him to fuck off, your heart won, your heart made you wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

“if you fuck up i’m breaking your legs.”

“if i fuck up i’m breaking them myself.” he knew this was his last chance. he knew that if he messed up now he’d be losing you forever, and that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

his hands were rubbing up and down your back, as gentle as you remembered him to be, while you were standing there and hugging and trying to calm down. you’d missed him so incredibly much and you wished you could stay in that moment forever.

“how are you feeling?” he could feel you were shaking slightly in his arms, though he wasn’t sure why. it could be the cool air, it could be the emotions running through you, it could be something he didn’t even want to think about. but either way he knew you should probably leave.

“it’s all so fucking much. i’m still pissed at you, but i guess i’m also glad that you’re here. and i’m fucking horrified.”

your shaking was most definitely at least partly owed to your emotional state, because it got worse now, you grabbing his t-shirt and clinging on to it for dear life.

“what are you scared of?” he sounded so fucking soft and calm and you wanted to crawl into his shirt and hide there and never leave for the real world ever again. you wanted him to keep you safe and to protect you because life and the things that were coming for you were scarier than you wanted to admit.

“you. rehab. my parents are gonna be so fucking hurt when i have to go back. fuck, i want the vodka.” but to your surprise you didn’t move to get it, you didn’t try to leave mingi’s embrace.

“you’re staying the night at my place”, he informed you, and you looked up at him in surprise.

“this talk was long overdue, but to be honest even i could use some vodka right now. i don’t want to imagine how you’re feeling, but i know i’m not gonna leave you alone in that state. no won’t count.”

“you know you won’t be able to just make me stop like that?”, you asked, wanting to be sure he didn’t have some weird saviour complex that made him think that just because he was there all your problems would suddenly vanish. but he seemed to know, even though he wished that was how it worked.

“not forever, but tonight’s a good start. i just want to be with you right now.” and even though you really wanted to get drunk you wanted to spend the night with mingi more, something that surprised you, especially considering how you’d just told him he wouldn’t be able to make you stop.

“i’m not going back there yet though, so if anything we’ll go to my place”, was the compromise you offered, and he gladly accepted. he held your hand almost the entire way, refusing to not be touching you in some way now that he might get you back, and this was less awkward than having his arm around your shoulders, which he’d tried first.

your apartment was a mess, you knew it was, but instead of judging you the tall male just kicked whatever trash you’d left on the floor out of the way to make his way to your bed, where he intended to spend the rest of the day and the entire night. he wrapped his arms around you as soon as you’d settled next to him, pulling you close like he used to when you were younger.

“i’m so sorry for all this”, he whispered, “so so fucking sorry.” and even though you’d somewhat sorted what had happened in the past, this was the first time he actually apologised. you hadn’t known how much you needed to hear him apologise until he did, whining out slightly as you pressed yourself closer against him. you wanted him to keep talking, keep apologising, keep promising that he wasn’t going to leave. but he was quiet after that, so instead of his comforting words your thoughts filled the silence in your head.

“keep talking before i get up”, you told him, the choice of words making it sound like a threat but the pleading way you said it making it clear that you were all but begging him. and he complied, luckily he complied, because you wouldn’t be able to keep your thoughts away for much longer.

“i missed you every day. it wasn’t fun to sit at lunch without you, or be in class, or do anything, really. i know it’s my fault, but back then i expected you to fight more, and when you just stopped trying after a while i thought i was right, even though you tried to talk to me every day for like two weeks and every single time i just straight up acted like i didn’t even hear you. i have no idea what i expected you to do, actually. sing me a love song in front of my window?” he chuckled a little, though it sounded somewhat bitter.

“i think that’s what i was secretly hoping for, if i’m real. not a love song, maybe, but some kinda confession. but instead of opening my mouth myself i just hoped that you’d get the hint i never even dropped. guess i really am a coward, huh?” he was running a hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp whenever he dragged his fingers down because back then you’d liked that and he hoped you still did.

“you’re an idiot”, you mumbled, though his somewhat-confession made you feel all weird inside. you’d liked him back then, too, but admittedly he hadn’t been the only coward. and before you’d ever had the chance to gather the courage to confess he’d cut you off.

“i know. i don’t think i’ve ever done anything more stupid than that. and now i’ve wasted my chance and have to live with the fact that i’ll die without ever having gotten to kiss you. it’s my own fault, though.” there was a hint of playful resignation in his tone, as if this confession was more to get it off his chest than it was for him to actually confess to you - as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that you might feel the same way.

“just do it now.”

he hadn’t expected that, surprise apparent when he asked: “can i?”, and you knew you should say no, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be in your bed with mingi so close and telling him to kiss you, but you’d missed him, and you were hurt and happy and desperate, and you just wanted to feel loved. and though this didn’t have to be love, this didn’t have to mean as much as you wanted it to, you could pretend. you wanted to pretend, so you didn’t say ‘no’ as you should, but ‘yes’ as you wanted.

and he did it, leaning in to press his lips against yours but not moving any more until you hadn’t pulled away even after a few seconds. then he actually kissed you, his one thumb stroking your cheek while the other was fondling with some strands of hair at the back of your head. and you knew your breath was gross, still reeking of the alcohol you’d drunk earlier that day, but mingi didn’t care. you were warm and soft against him and you were there and he’d take whatever he could get from you, even if it was vodka breath.

you didn’t want him to pull away, because you feared that once he did your world would come crashing down again and he’d tell you that now his curiosity was stilled and this should remain a one-time thing.

and you feared that you’d been right about this being a one-time thing, because he apologised as soon as he broke the kiss. but he didn’t apologise for what you thought he’d apologise for.

“i shouldn’t have done that. not like this. fuck, i just took advantage of this entire situation, i’m so sorry. fuck. feel free to break my nose.”

“don’t break my heart and i won’t break your bones. deal?” the big smile he gave you was so easy to see even though it was starting to get dark outside now, and you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your own mouth. he was here, and he’d kissed you, and maybe he’d do it again. maybe you’d finally be able to be okay again, actually okay, really okay.

“i promise.” he pulled your head into his chest, resuming to run his fingers through your hair and telling you sweet nothings.

“you’re so beautiful. so kind and so strong, such a fighter. i’m so glad i’m here right now, so grateful you let me, and i’m never going to leave again, ever. i’m here now, and you won’t have to be alone anymore. i’ll try to make it right, all the things i did wrong. i’m sorry. but i’m with you now.”

you were pretty certain he wasn’t even thinking much about what he was saying, just saying anything that was on his mind, as much for you as for himself. but even if it wasn’t for you that he was saying all this, it still helped you, comforted you, gave you some hope. one thing you had to clear up, though.

“we’re not a thing”, you murmured into his chest, though the way you were clinging to him betrayed your words, showed how much you wanted to be. “we’re not a thing because you don’t know anything. you can’t play a video game on easy and then enter the world championship and think you’ll win. i can’t talk to you for a single day and then think it’d work out.”

and mingi got it. he knew that this was a decision that had to be made logically, not based on what he wanted in that moment. but that didn’t mean he was just going to give up like this. he told you he’d fight for you, and he would.

“talk to me more, then. i told you i’m not going to leave.”

“you say that now.” there was sadness in your voice, resignation. “but it’s different when i’m shitfaced. when i’m crying my eyes out because recovery is hard and i don’t want to anymore. when i call you at 3 in the morning begging you to come over and check on me and make sure i’m not dying because i’m scared i went too deep this time. when i tell you i hate you even though you didn’t do shit just because i need someone to take my anger out on. none of this shit is pretty or romantic and the sooner you realise that, the better.”

“i’m going to be there.” he didn’t say more and you were glad about that, because even though you’d been the one to bring all this up you didn’t want to talk about it, you just wanted to be held and comforted and protected. and he did, he held you until you fell asleep, and was still holding you when you woke up the next morning.

it was weird to be back with mingi. it was familiar but completely different, and it was hard, as you’d told him it’d be. but he kept his promise, even though it hurt to see you struggle and in pain, he was there when you needed him and he was there when you didn’t. he was there to hold you when you called your parents to tell them you had to go back to rehab, and he was there to calm your nerves the day before you left, force-feeding you snacks to keep your mouth busy because by now he’d learned the signs of when you really craved alcohol and while he learned that the most he could usually do was to make sure you didn’t drink yourself into a coma that night he made sure you didn’t drink at all, because you were going to rehab the next day and he wanted you to have decent starting conditions and he knew you wanted that, too, and a hangover was the worst starting condition you could possibly have. he was there to kiss you that night, because even though you’d been the one to tell him to not try anything until he’d proven he meant it the snacks just didn’t do it and you needed something else in your mouth. he knew it was just your desperation that had made you beg him to please kiss you, but he did, he was there as he’d promised, even when it hurt like this. he was there to hold you when you cried into his chest after, promising you that it would be okay and that he would be right there the entire time and when you got back, too.

he was there the next day when you clung on to his hand with a force that could probably break his fingers sooner or later, horrified of entering the building in front of you. he was there to hold you in place when you tried to bolt as soon as they started the admission process, he was there to tell you that he was so proud of you and to promise you that it would be okay. he was there to call you that night, relieved that you were allowed to, and he was there to talk you through all your fears. he was there a week later, when you were first allowed to get visitors, with a rather big teddy bear wearing one of his shirts and a self-made card that read “one week sober!”, small celebratory drawings all over.

“i wanted to bring a cake, but they don’t do that with people that just started. you’ll get one at the one month mark though, pinky promise.” you linked your pinky with his for maybe two seconds before you threw yourself into his arms, clinging on to him as if your life depended on it.

“please take me home. please just take me home”, pleaded into his shoulder repeatedly, like a mantra, and he held you so tight.

“it’s worth it, my strong little angel, it’s okay. i promise.” he was rubbing up and down your back comfortingly, continuously saying how proud he was until you let go just enough to look into his face and see the warmth in his eyes.

“you’re going to stay right here until they kick you out”, you ordered, though what you were actually doing was begging him to please not leave you alone until he had to. you felt like the odd one out here, the only alcoholic still in their twenties, and their early twenties at that. the only other person roughly your age was a guy with an anxiety disorder that looked at you like you were the filth of the earth, and that didn’t exactly make you want to talk to him. you missed mingi, you missed seeing him, and having to watch the other patients be able to go out and meet people outside the therapy times when in your state you’d have to stay until the staff could be certain you weren’t going to relapse only made it worse.

“they’ll have to drag me out by the ears”, he reassured you, and finally you smiled, a genuine smile that made his heart hurt a little less.

“call this one mingi”, pointing to the teddy bear that had been discarded when you’d flung yourself into his arms, “and pretend he’s me. not as good as the real deal, but at least he’s wearing my t-shirt.”

“butthead.” but you looked at him with, as he hoped, the same feelings he had for you, which showed him that he’d chosen a good gift.

he brought you a small gift whenever he came by, and after bothering the nurses continuously (which resulted in them begging the staff in charge of your unit to please let him get his way) he was allowed to bring you food, though only in sealed packages which they checked closely for both the ingredients and even the slightest chance of him having managed to put alcohol in. it was somewhat of a hassle, but the way your expression brightened when he brought you your favourite cereal from when you were 12 and which you’d stopped eating by age 15 because it was ‘for children’ was definitely worth it. things still weren’t easy, especially with how cut off you felt from the outside world, and there had been several nights where you’d screamed at mingi on the phone about how much you hated him for having caused all this and then being cut off by the nurses because your phone time was over before you’d had a chance to tell him that you were sorry for screaming like this, but he never got upset with you for that. instead, he texted you an apology to see after dinner, along with telling you how proud he was. and he stayed, as he’d promised you.

your one month of sobriety was the day you were discharged, because you’d been doing surprisingly well and because you’d managed to convince your responsible treatment team that you’d do better if you didn’t feel so alone and cut off, if you had the chance to do things rather than sit in the hospital all day and overthink your situation. you had an outpatient treatment plan and when you’d told mingi about being dismissed he kindly but sternly told you that he’d kick your ass into next monday if you didn’t follow it. and now he was here, picking you up both from the facility and from the ground, twirling you around as soon as you were in his arms. you’d agreed that you’d spend the first few days at his place, so that’s where he brought you now.

the tall male carried the few things you had with you into his flat while you stood next to the car, taking a little while to get used to the thought of being a part of the outside world again. you were glad mingi was there, because while you were so happy to be out it was still scary to know that now it was up to you alone whether you relapsed or not.

you were delighted to see that he’d kept his promise about the one month mark-cake, because while it wasn’t exactly pretty you soon found out that it made up for that in taste, and also because it was so sweet and thoughtful. it seemed like he’d prepared a little party for you, with one of those silly ‘welcome home’ banners hanging in the living room and colourful plastic cups on the table, next to various kinds of juice and soda. you had no idea how, but he’d even managed to organise strawberry soda, something that you hadn’t seen in stores in ages.

“butthead.” you didn’t know how else to react to all this. it was so much, so unnecessarily much that you didn’t know whether to cry with happiness or to smack him because this probably took a lot of time and money. you decided that calling him butthead again would be a good compromise.

“angel”, he grinned at you, entirely unbothered by your (admittedly weak) insult. then his expression turned serious, walking over to stand right next to you with a few long steps before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“i’m so glad you’re back, you know that? i missed you like crazy.”

“i missed you too. don’t let go.”

he wasn’t planning on doing that anyway. he’d be so stupid if he did. and he’d be so stupid if he didn’t tell you how he felt.

“i love you. i love you i love you i love you. now break my nose for being a butthead.”

“be my butthead and i’ll consider leaving your bones intact.” you tried to play it cool, but your heart was beating so hard you feared it would jump out of your chest, and this time you could be 100% sure that it wasn’t withdrawals. it was just mingi, the boy who’d kept his promise to be there, the boy who’d helped you piece yourself back together in some way again. the boy who wanted to be with you even though the way you’d pieced yourself back together was so far from who he’d known before you shattered. it was mingi, the boy whom you loved back.

“so the b in bf stands for butthead? that’s what you’re saying?” he was teasing you, just a little, but it was okay because you could tell he was just nervous and scared that he might have misunderstood you and was trying to mask that through his joke.

“or maybe it stands for big beautiful boyfriend, you decide.”

“i’ll take the boyfriend! i’ll take the boyfriend. please let me be your boyfriend.” looking at you pleadingly, though also somewhat excited, and you knew you’d never let him go again.

“then you’re my big beautiful boyfriend. what am i?”

you were expecting him to joke, but he didn’t. he was entirely serious when he said: “you’re my world.”

and this seriousness overwhelmed you just a little bit, so that you were left speechless. and he continued.

“you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. you’re my strong little angel.”

“you’re not supposed to be so sweet, i don’t know how to handle it”, you whined out, but he just smiled down at you, taking in every detail of your face.

“get used to it.” you knew you wouldn’t ever get used to it, you knew you wouldn’t ever get enough of him telling you sweet things like that. maybe you’d get better at reacting over time, though. but since right now you were very much not good at reacting yet, you said something that maybe wasn’t the most appropriate reaction to his sweet-talking you.

“you know i still hate you though, right?” even though your voice gave away that you didn’t, far from.

“makes for a great enemies to lovers storyline”, he teased, smiling down at you with entire galaxies in his eyes.

“just kiss me, butthead.”

it didn’t take more than a few seconds before he did. he kissed you slowly, because you had all the time in the world, thumb tracing all your features while your hands were wrapped around his neck. and while your first kisses had been bitter with alcohol and desperation, this one was sweet with cake and love.

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that-sarcastic-slytherin · 4 years

Text

Help Me Forget - Part 2

Steve Rogers x reader x Tony Stark

@rororo06

- - -

“Why?”

Steve’s voice was unnervingly calm as he spoke, a burning intensity in his blue eyes, creating a foreign shield of hardness.

Riffling through his untidy pile of papers, searching for his notes on the latest project he and Bruce were working on, Tony barely forced himself to glance the Captain’s way.

It was clear that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in what he had to say, and it only served to fuel Steve’s frustration.

“Why?” He repeated, his voice holding an increasing firmness.

Tony moved around the lab to access his tablet, wearing a faint smirk. “Why what?”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Okay, so you’re not a fan of the whole hard to get thing, huh?” Tony quipped, allowing his smirk to grow more prominent. He earned a sharp glare in return. “Well, you’re asking me why, and I’m asking; why not?”

Steve stared at the man in disbelief, his patience thinning by the second.

“How can you stand there and say that?”

“It’s relatively easy.”

A loud scoff of derision emitted from Steve, shaking his head with a smile, in which there was no trace of humour.

“Always have a witty comment on hand, don’t you Stark?”

“Well, I do try,” he replied, swiping his finger across the screen of his tablet.

Steve’s fist clenched at his side. “This isn’t a joke.”

He then peered at Tony with a scrutinising gaze, anger and betrayal woven heavily into his piercing features.

“I always knew you had a thing for her.”

Feigning ignorance to irritate him further, Tony replied, “who?”

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name brushing past Steve’s lips, left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, his heart clenching with pain.

“Oh, right.” Tony visibly perked up. “Yeah, I suppose you could say we are now...better acquainted.”

A sudden, loud crashing noise rang out around the laboratory, causing Tony to rip his attention away from his work, and whip around, to be met with the sight of a collection of test tubes smashed on the floor, with Steve standing over them, glaring angrily.

“Don’t even go there, Stark.” He warned, through slightly gritted teeth. “How could you do this to me? How could either of you do this?!”

Tony didn’t say anything for a few moments, examining the Captain’s demeanour carefully, knowing that he was close to blowing up. He knew that Steve had not actually moved on with another girl, Wanda had filled him in on that little detail.

However, he found that he didn’t really care. Cap didn’t have the right to be angry, not at him and certainly not at you. Not after the way he had treated you these past months, then having the audacity to flip out like he was, as if he hadn’t even hurt you in the beginning.

Instead of uttering the answers that Steve so desperately wanted to hear, Tony headed for the closest exit, not wanting to bother continuing the conversation.

However, Steve wasn’t going to let him get away with it so easily. He caught him by the arm firmly, preventing him from going any further.

“Tell me why-”

Yet, he didn’t get the chance to finish, for Tony roughly shoved his arm away, pulling out of his grip.

“Stop!” Barked Tony, matching the other man’s steely glare. “I don’t need to explain or justify anything to you, and neither does Y/N!”

“Yes, you do!” Steve retorted sharply, squaring up him. “You can explain to me why you thought it was okay to-to do...”

Steve paused as he struggled for the right way to phrase it, disgust and embarrassment creeping up at the awful picture. “To do...that...with my girl!”

“But she’s not your girl, is she?” Tony countered, with an air of smugness. “Not anymore.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek as he was greeted with that painful reminder. “My relationship with Y/N is none of your business.”

Tony scoffed out a small laugh. “None of my business...”

He brushed past Steve, moving to lean against one of the desks, clutching the rim of the table tightly, his own anger increasing considerably at the statement.

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” he agreed, but his tone betrayed the deception of his words.

“Just like how it was none of my business when I found Y/N crying in her room one day, in the middle of a panic attack, overwhelmed with emotion, because you had just broken her heart!”

Steve’s eyes visibly widened in alarm. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

Tony took his shocked silence as an opportunity to finally vent his true feelings about how the solider had treated you, all what he had done.

“Did you know that she used to have nightmares?”

“...What...?” Steve uttered quietly.

“After the attack,” Tony started, making Steve wince as he recalled the haunting memory.

“Y/N suffered night terrors. She got them nearly every night. I used to arrive in her room to find her petrified, swimming in her own sweat and tears.”

Steve’s eyes glossed over. He could feel his own heart breaking at the devastating realisation of how much pain you had been in, and the fact that he had not been there to help you through it.

“I-I...she never told me...”

Tony scoffed abruptly, taking a few steps closer. “How could she have? You refused to go near her. She would be lucky if you even stayed in the same room for more than two seconds.”

“It was too hard!” Steve shouted desperately, trying to get him to understand.

“And what about Y/N? Did you think it would be easy for her?”

Tony got nearer with each word, enabling Steve to see the burning defence and anger raging in his dark eyes.

“I remember when she would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, traumatised, trembling with fear- whispering your name- all she wanted was you to be there- to comfort her and hold her- but where were you?! Where were you when she needed you?!”

Steve struggled to conceal his hurt as he listened to the horrifying truth of your situation. A situation he had put you in. His heart felt as though it was drowning in a mist of sorrows.

The last thing he had wanted to do was hurt you, but it seemed that that’s precisely what he ended up doing.

Tony noticed his shining irises and the way his jaw clenched, but he was too fulled to stop now. He needed Cap to know just how much you had been through. He needed him to understand.

“You were nowhere in sight! You made sure to keep away. The bottom line is; I was the one who ran into her room when I heard her screams. I was the one who whispered soothing words into her ears. I was the one who held her as she cried herself to sleep!”

“Enough, Stark!” Cried Steve. He couldn’t hear anymore.

“I was there for her when you weren’t! You did what was easiest for you. Not her.”

- - -

It had been three days since you had seen Steve in that restaurant. Three days since you had mistakenly thought he had cast you away. And three days since you had made one the biggest mistakes of your life.

As you sat on your bed, staring out of the large windows, your mind flooded with all thoughts of anger and deep regret. Anger at yourself for what you had done. If only you hadn’t of jumped to conclusions so hastily, if you had just confronted Steve and talked to him about it first...

But, no. Of course, you didn’t do any of that. That would have been the wise and sensible thing to do. Instead, being the idiot you are, you had to deal with it in the worst way possible.

The picture of pain on Steve’s face when he realised what you had done...you couldn’t get it out of your head. The way he had looked at you...with such betrayal...such disappointment.

It brought such a deep sadness to your heart. And it was something that you never wanted to experience again.

In a sudden surge of frustration, you leapt up and grabbed the closest object to you, which happened to be one of your shoes, and hurled it at the wall, letting out a shout of anguish as you did so.

As you ran a hand through your hair, gripping at the individual strands tightly, a knock sounded on your bedroom door.

“What?” You called, your tone suggesting that you were not welcome to visitors.

However, the person ignored your off-putting attitude and pushed the door open, revealing the curious face of Natasha on the other side.

You glanced her way but didn’t speak, waiting to see what she wanted. You hoped it wasn’t to climb through the vents to prank Clint again, you weren’t in the mood for it.

“So, I guess you’re still pretty upset about the Steve and Tony thing?” She mused lightly, walking further in the room.

Your annoyed glare gave her the answer.

“I heard them arguing yesterday,” she informed, “sounded pretty heated.”

You huffed in frustration at the thought that you had driven some kind of wedge in between them. It didn’t take much for them to clash, but they were still best friends.

This fact only made you feel even more guilty.

Natasha observed you carefully, her years of training had made her an expert in assessing and discerning people’s emotions, and despite all your guarded walls, you were no exception.

“You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself,” she told you, making you look at incredulously. “You made a mistake. You weren't thinking and you acted on your emotions. It’s not unheard of.”

You shook your head in denial, refusing to make light of it.

“That mistake has cost me any chance of Steve and I ever getting back together. I hurt him, Nat. You should have seen his face, he looked so broken...”

Natasha didn’t and couldn’t deny that what you were saying was true, of course it would have wounded him, but she still thought that it wasn’t simply black and white. You had been through a lot, and she was there in the early days when you had to try and accept the fact that Steve was no longer a part of your personal life. She had been so worried about you, and she still was. She had done her fair share of trying to speak sense into the solider.

She walked closer to you and fixed you with a serious gaze. “Steve is crazy about you, Y/N, and he always will be. Your chance isn’t gone. But what he feels right now, is exactly what you were feeling when he ended things with you. I’m not saying that I want him to be in pain, at all, but maybe now he will know just how hurt you were.”

“Yes, but the difference is he didn’t go and...do-anything with you or Wanda! I went to Tony for solace.Tony!”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what you were thinking there...”

You caught Natasha’s smirk and sent her a small glare.

“This is serious, Nat. I just...I don’t know what to do...how to fix it...if it even can be fixed.”

“Y/N.” Natasha spoke firmly. “You’re not going to fix anything if you stay in here and wallow in self-pity and guilt.”

“I’m not wallowing,” you mumbled grumpily, making her smirk.

“If you want to put things right, then the only thing you need to do; is talk to Steve.”

- - -

After many, many hours of intense debating, you finally decided to take Natasha’s blunt advice and speak to Steve. It wasn’t going to be easy, you knew that, but it needed to be done.

You walked down the hall leading to the training room, having asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. about his whereabouts, and small butterflies fluttered around in your stomach, dreading the conversation that would soon ensue.

You rounded the corner to the entrance, finding Steve doing hits on one of the punching bags. It was obvious that he was delivering each hit with more strength than necessary, even for him.

Unsure of how to begin, warning you fingers together, you approached him slowly and somewhat cautiously.

“Are you still not talking to me?”

His face was obstructed from your view, but you could see the way his entire back suddenly tensed.

Instead of replying or even acknowledging your presence, Steve merely continued to punch the bag in front of him, but you noticed that his blows carried even more force.

You sighed and muttered, “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

You decided to move directly in front of him, thinking that he would be forced to at least register that you were there, but he didn’t even manage a glance your way.

Realising that he wasn’t going to give you his full attention, you chose to just start speaking, at least he would have to listen, it wasn’t like he could switch off his ears.

“Okay...I’ll just talk then.” You took a deep and shaky breath before continuing, trying to gather your thoughts and to say the right thing.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered, causing him to halt slightly in his next punch. “I want you to know that I am so, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly-I-I never should have done it-”

“Then why did you?”

Steve finally ceased his movements and lifted his head to look at you properly.

“I don’t understand,” he confessed in voice of exasperation, “I don’t understand why you would do that. How you could...”

You tried your best to stay strong but his broken expression was making it incredibly difficult to keep it up.

“When I saw you in that restaurant, after all we had been through, I thought the worst. I thought that you had found someone else, and forgotten about me...”

Steve gazed at you in a mixture of hurt and frustration. “Forget? I could never forget about you, Y/N. Never.”

“It was in that moment, I thought that you had- that you had turned to someone new.”

Despite the sadness and insecurity that leaked out of your voice, Steve’s own anger at himself was bubbling at the surface. His discussion, or rather, argument, with Tony had left him feeling guilty and full of regret. Unfortunately, he poorly decided to deal with these emotions by taking it out on you, still very much hurt.

“If you think that I could do that,” he started, his voice quiet but firm. “If you think that I could do that to you, if you think that I could fall in love with anyone else; then you clearly don’t know me at all.”

As he picked up his gym bag, you moved in front of him quickly, desperate to make him realise, to make him see.

“Bu that’s what it looked like at the time!” You cried, your voice cracking. “I know I was wrong, I know that now, but you have to see it from my point of view!”

“And what view is that?”

You snatched the bag out of hands and shoved it to the floor, catching him by surprise.

“Do you know what these last months have been like for me?” You asked. “Do you even care?”

Steve wasted no time in replying, “of course I do.”

“I loved you, Steve! I loved you and I trusted you, and you broke my heart! It took me so long to finally let someone in again, and when I did, you left me!”

Steve’s heart clenched as he listened to your confessions. He finally realised. You had trusted him, despite the horrors of your past, and he let you down. He had broken that trust.

“When I woke up from that coma, I needed you there, Steve. I needed you there by my side, but instead, you were no where to be found!”

Steve winced as your words hit his ears, baring a painful similarity to what Tony had previously said.

Tears shone in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you cried, “you abandoned me!”

“No!” Steve denied loudly, the idea too agonising to entertain. “What I did, I did protect you!”

“Did you, Steve? Or were you protecting yourself?”

“That’s ridiculous.” He dismissed quickly.

“Is it? Then why did you run away and hide as if you were the one who had been injured? Because deep down, you were and still are.”

Steve gazed at you intensely, hanging onto every word, but fearful at your words that were digging into his heart.

You stood so close to him that your noses were nearly touching, allowing him to see every flame of emotion blazing in your eyes.

“You couldn’t stand that fact that Captain America didn’t have a perfect mission record, you didn’t achieve a 100% no casualty report. You were angry because you couldn’t play the hero and save me in time!”

“No! You’re wrong!” Steve shouted heatedly, but his eyes glittered as they stared back at you, vulnerability showing its full display. “You don’t even know what you’re saying!”

“Then tell me why, Steve!” You pleaded. “Tell me! Because you have given me nothing else to go on!”

Conflict illuminated in irises of blue, as he used all his strength no to crumble right there. No matter how much he wanted to tell you the truth, to tell you everything, how he felt, how he still loved you...he could not.

He would always be haunted by what he had caused, and now that he knew all the emotional pain he had inflicted upon you, he knew you were safer without him. You would be better off without him.

The hurt on your face only confirmed his thoughts.

He dug his nails into the palm of his hand before he spoke, knowing that he was about to do something that would grieve him for as long as he lived.

In a whisper, he uttered, “I can’t.”

“Steve-”

“I can’t.” He insisted more firmly. “Nothing more can ever be for us again. Too much has happened. We aren’t good for each other.”

He had to force himself to carry on as he looked at you, convincing himself that he was doing what was right for you.

“Steve, please don’t do this to me again,” you implored anxiously. “Don’t leave me again.”

Pushing down the stabbing pain in his heart, Steve uttered the final words that were to send you into another pit of anguish.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Without a further word, he picked up his bag and sent a last glance your way, as he tried to conceal his own tears.

He dragged himself away from you, each step feeling like an iron weight, leaving you standing there, feeling alone and helpless.

A single tear ran down your cheek as your chest began to jolt with silent sobs.

Unbeknownst to you, your conversation had been overheard, the monitors had recorded it and was sent to the controller’s screens.

Subsequently, this was why Tony suddenly appeared in the room, walking up to you with sad eyes.

You didn’t look at him. You kept your stare directed to the floor, boreing holes into it.

Wordlessly, Tony gently took you by the hands and wrapped his arms around you, encompassing you into a warm embrace.

You clutched onto his shirt in a tight grip, tears dripping down and soaking the cotton material in a salty avalanche.

Through your sniffles you managed to whisper, “I’ve lost him, Tony. I’ve lost him.”

In response, Tony held you closer, tighter, wishing he could magic your pain away.

He clenched his jaw and muttered under his breath, “Cap, you idiot.”

You stayed like that for a long while. Tears kept pouring out no matter how hard you willed them to stop.

You were overwhelmed with the agonising realisation that you were now left in the same dark hole again.

He had left you again. He had shut himself off again. He had distanced himself again.

By worst of all...

He had broken your heart all over again.

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fuckyeahjerik · 4 years

Note

What do you think of doing the 19? Feel free to refuse and have a good day :D

Hello Anon! We hope you'll like it!

Love.

According to the dictionary it means, “an intense feeling of deep affection,” which Jellal isn’t sure he entirely understands the meaning of.

He grew up in a house where ‘love’ was expressed through yells and broken glasses. He is even sure that he saw his mother throwing a plate at his father once. While they tried to tone down when it came to Jellal, he was no stranger of cold shoulders and ignorance coming from his parents. And growing up without any siblings or relative around, didn’t really help either. His parents finally got divorced at some point, and he spent a good majority of his life switching from his father or mother’s house, who still managed to find a way to fight about ridiculous things each time they crossed paths. So, yes, “an intense feeling of deep affection”, is certainly not how his first experience with love went.

Which probably explain why he finds himself in this precise situation. If he has anyone to blame, he will be pointing fingers at Ultear. She is the first friend he managed to make despite his cold demeanor. She saw past through him when they met in middle school, and given the situation he’s in right now, he is not so sure if letting her in finally was a great decision.

Because being friends with Ultear, caused him three grands things in his life, which he likes to call “The Three Scourges”.

One, it forced him to open up, and lose his credibility when it comes to the deal with “I don’t want friends”.

Which leads him to number two, where out of nowhere, he became part of a group of people.

Which leads him to number three, Erik.

Erik with his beautiful brown eyes and dark red hair. Erik with his smiles and ridiculous scars on his eye that Jellal can’t help but think of, in ways that would probably make the boy blush if he could hear thoughts. Erik with his outgoing personality and who is also very straight with a girlfriend.

And this fact is probably the most devastating one for Jellal who is very not straight and possibly in love with him, at least according to Ultear. He’s not really certain of where he stands on the matter. Because really, all he feels is his heart beating faster when Erik talks to him, and sometimes he doesn’t know how to function properly in his company, but if anything, this just means that he is sick and probably dying from a cancer.

So, yes, it’s definitely Ultear’s fault, if Erik has been looking at him for at least five minutes, with wide eyes and mouth half opens with shock, suddenly incapable of letting out a single word.

“I’ll...I’ll go,” Jellal blurts out, before standing up from his chair and walking away.

He doesn’t know why his eyes are hitching so much, or why his vision is blurred. He’s pretty sure that it feels hotter now since his hands are sweaty.

It’s ridiculous, really. Because what was he thinking when he told Erik “I love you”, out of nowhere? They were just discussing their new project for a class they shared and were assigned together. They were in the library of the campus, so really even the setting wasn’t that great for a confession.

“I’m so stupid…” He mumbles.

He’s not sure of where he is going, at this point he doesn’t really care either, all he wants is to get out of here. Maybe even drop his classes for the rest of day, or even for the rest of the year. He doesn’t even like what he’s doing, so really it could be a great opportunity to just quit everything. He has some money on the side, and he’s pretty sure it’ll be enough for him to go a few months somewhere, far, far away. It might be a little be drastic but he’ll choose that over the fact of ever seeing Erik’s face ever again.

At least that’s the plan until, he feels fingers curling around his writ, urging him to stop. And it’s not long before his eyes caught Eric’s body moving, so they are now facing each other. He looks out of breath, a faint blush on his cheeks, and there’s a certain desperation in his eyes.

“Jellal,” he says, panting.

Erik takes a moment to catch his breath, not letting go of Jellal. He doesn’t dare to move as few seconds pass, too afraid of what could happen.

“You ran,” Erik finally lets out.

Jellal bites his bottom lip as he lets his gaze meet the ground.

“You said that to me and then ran away,” he adds.

“You didn’t give me an answer. I was not going to stay there and embarrass myself further,” Jellal whispers, and really he didn’t think he had it in him.

“You…You caught me off guard okay? I really didn’t expect something like that… ever. And I was just starting to be okay and moving on from you and then you just said...that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you—wait, what did you just said? What do you mean?”

Confusion taking over him, Jellal lifts his eyes to Erik, who is looking slightly embarrassed now, as the words finally caught up to him. He is not sure if he really understood what Erik just said, and he’s feeling weird enough about all this situation to let his hopes high.

“Look, um...I know you’re not really into that “love” thing. You made it all clear, countless of time through the years. And while it hurt at first, I made my peace with it. Or at least tried. And then, you say something like that and – fuck- what does it mean?”

Jellal stares at him, without saying a word, because really, this doesn’t make any sense. He wonders for a moment if he finally died from that cancer, he’s so sure he has and if he managed to reach heaven, or hell for that matter. Because really, this is torture. He can feel his hopes dancing inside his head and it sucks.

“Did you mean it?” Erik asks, a certain despair in his voice. “When you said you loved me, did you mean it?”

Erik looks ready to break at any moment, and there’s something in that, that makes Jellal wary, because that’s a side of the young man he has never met before.

“Yes, I meant it...whatever it means,” Jellal decides to tell him the truth.

And he can see it was the right thing to do, when relief takes over him. But it doesn’t make any sense because—

“Why are you asking? Why are you saying all of this when you have a girlfriend, Erik?”

Why, indeed, when not two hours ago, Erik was bragging about how awesome Kinana is, about how gentle she is.

“What? What girlfriend?” Erik questions, confused.

“Come on Erik, I know that Kinana and you have a thing going on and—”

“Wait! What?”

“—it’s okay really, you don’t have to pretend for my sake or whatever—”

“Damn it, what are you talking about? I’m not—”

“—I’ll admit that it bugged me for a long time, but it’s okay now, I mean, she’s gorgeous and I guess you two do look cute together—”

This time his sentence is cut off with a pair of lips on his and Jellal doesn’t even try to stop it from happening. It’s at the same time everything he imagined it would feel like and not.

Erik’s lips are surprisingly soft and warm. It’s easy for Jellal to just melt against him. There’s no pressure to the kiss, it will not lead to something deeper, they are just lips against lips, but it’s enough for Jellal’s heart to quicken.

But as sudden the kiss was, it doesn’t last long either as Erik retreats a little, so he can look at Jellal again.

“You really don’t know when to shut up sometimes, you’re unbelievable,” Erik whispers, a soft smile on his lips. “First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend, Kinana is my best friend, thank you very much. We grew up together so I see her like a little sister more than anything.”

“But-”

He is cut by a hand on his lips this time, and Jellal tries not to frown at the disrespect.

“Then, I’m very gay and she’s very gay so yeah...definitely not. Also…” There’s a little fond smile adorning his face now. “I love you too, idiot.”

It takes a few minutes for Jellal to process the words. And now he understands why Erik took so much time to say anything back to him when he let out the words earlier. It’s a strange feeling, to know that someone loves you.

But after a moment, Jellal brings his hand to the one against his lips to lower it, and he can’t help but smile in return.

“So,” Erik speaks once again. “You confessed even though you thought I had a girlfriend? What kind of sick game are you playing dude?”

At the sight of wriggling eyebrows and the now smirk on his face, Jellal lost his own smile as a groan escapes his lips.

“Oh my god, I’m going to regret this.”

Erik slides an arm around his waist to keep him against him as he laughs.

And despite his words, Jellal knows, he’s not going to regret anything at all.

Mod Océane

(beta by mod Sky)

#jerik #jellal x erik #jellal fernandes #fairy tail #erik x jellal #erik fairy tail #jerik fics #cobra #mod Océane #fyjerikrequest

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lovelylogans · 5 years

Note

are we ever getting dee’s backstory in the wyliwf verse? or actually are we ever getting more dee logan interactions?

alliance

“all warfare is based on deception. hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.” —sun tzu, the art of war

dee usually tries to subscribe to some of the life lessons in the art of war. he has no idea why, today, he has flubbed it this badly.

(or: dee accidentally spills a secret, and those sanders’ might not be as bad as he thought.)

part of the wyliwf verse.

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: deceit, snake mentions, mention of a fight, allusions to an unhappy home life, let me know if i’ve missed anything

pairings: logince, moxiety

words: 4,515

notes: thank you, anon! this references this ask i answered a while ago about dee’s backstory; not super necessary to read, since i cover a lot of it in here, but it does give some general background that might be nice going into the story. takes place after the black parade. happy birthday, deceit!

patton’s not usually home when logan gets back from school.

if paton did see logan right after a school day, it was usually because patton went to virgil’s for a mid-afternoon hot cocoa/coffee, or if logan walked from the bus stop to the inn. they don’t meet at home right after school.

today was different, though. because today, logan was bringing home his partner to do a project for the gsa.

logan had been kicking himself for not getting more involved as soon as he’d set foot at chilton. so, in the aftermath of the “I AM NOT DOING ENOUGH TO GET INTO COLLEGE” frantic list-making session of winter break, logan had joined a slew of clubs and activities; the cross-country team, with the intent of joining the track team in the fall, as long as it didn’t interfere with the newspaper, chilton’s book club, chilton’s quiz bowl team, the science club, photographing for the newspaper, when mel needed him to, backstage crew for the spring play, the debate team, and, of course, chilton’s gay/straight alliance.

that hadn’t been around, when patton went to chilton. patton likes to think that means that things are way better now—well, he knows things are a better now, there’s been so much progress since patton was a teenager—but, well. to patton, chilton’s always going to have that memory, to him. of being excised and bullied because he was trans.

but. anyway. logan’s part of the gsa now. logan’s bringing home a designated partner from the gsa, to help make some posters to put up around the school. so patton has some ulterior motives for being home right now.

because, well, patton knows that logan’s mostly signed up for everything because it looks good on a college admission form, but. patton can’t help but think about logan’s not-super-hidden concern, the night before he’d started chilton—“what could he possibly be scared of? he’s the one staying at sideshire high. he’s always had other friends. he’ll probably make more friends now that i’m not going to be at school taking up all his time.”

and, well. involvement in things he’s interested in. which means other kids who are interested in the things he’s interested in. which means potential friends.

with roman as the sole exception, logan’s always been slow to warm to people—he’s very particular about who he lets to be close to him. but once he does warm to them, he’s fiercely, intensely loyal, defensive, a good friend. a fantastic friend.

so maybe patton’s hovering a little to make sure that things go well for logan. sue him. but he can be a cool dad, that’ll help, right? he can offer snacks! and supplies for poster-making! and… and more snacks!

so patton had been a whirlwind of activity, shoving most of the clutter out of sight so that the house looks slightly tidier, stacking outer layers on his coat rack that seems to wheeze under the pressure—patton practically has to tie things to it with his trans pride scarf, just to make sure that things wont fall down—and shoves dirty dishes in the dishwasher, out of sight, out of mind. he’ll wash them later.

he straightens up the bin of markers that he’d dug out of various desk drawers, and ensures that the glitter and glue are all grouped together, and that they’ve got pencils to sketch out a starting idea, because knowing logan, he’ll want to sketch out the idea first.

he runs through the list of names that he’s heard logan mention as he straightens everything out—maybe it’ll be kai, logan had mentioned him and his interest in video games. or there had been a set of boyfriends the grade above him, corbin and… and sloane, wasn’t it, maybe it’d be one of them! or maybe someone that logan hasn’t mentioned.

there’s the sound of a key at the door, and patton glances at his phone. right on time. he’d really expect nothing less, from logan, oh goD he should look like he’s being totally natural act natural patton!!!!!

so he quickly pivots and starts rattling around in the cupboards, and starts scooping coffee grounds into the coffee maker as he hears the door open, two thumps of backpacks hitting the ground, a mutter of “you can take your shoes off here” from logan.

“hey, kiddo!” patton calls, and a mumble of “my dad” from logan, and then the sound of two pairs of socked feet approaching.

“i wasn’t sure if you wanted some coffee too, so i figured i could ask you and your—“

he pivots, and the word “guest” dies on his tongue.

because, standing in yellow socks in the midst of his kitchen, with his strange, sneakily altered version of the chilton uniform, looking supremely uncomfortable, is dee slange.

the same dee slange that has been logan’s de-facto rival at chilton. the same dee slange that told logan he’d never catch up to the rest of his class. the same dee slange that goaded someone into hitting his son. that dee slange.

this is the worst outcome for “logan could be bringing home a potential friend!”

patton swallows, setting aside the scoop of coffee, and glances at logan.

“we were randomly assigned people to get to know them better, since it’s the start of the new semester,” logan says, a brusque explanation.

“right,” patton says. “okay. um. hi.”

“hi,” dee says, voice tight, tilting up his chin.

“do you want some coffee?” patton says stiffly.

a long pause. “sure.”

“right then,” patton says, and turns to the coffee machine.

dee slange. dee slange! god, it probably is a good thing that he’d decided to hover, because honestly if logan and dee had had to work alone patton probably would have come home to the house in shambles.

but he has to be polite, patton tells himself. so patton wracks his brain for his (probably outdated) etiquette lessons, and, once he gets the coffee machine going, he turns, leaning back against the counter.

“it is dee, right?” he checks. “i’d hate to be calling you something that you don’t particularly want to be called. is it short for something?”

“it’s dee,” he says. he doesn’t answer the other question. he’s busy glancing around the kitchen.

right, patton figures. time to move to the next small-talk topic.

“your grandmother’s friends with my mom,” patton tells dee. “evelyn, right? i always liked her.”

honestly, a lot of his mom’s friends had been a wild gamble, if he told them he was trans, and evelyn had probably taken it best out of all of them. that had been enough to earn his affection, even if evelyn’s general kindness hadn’t done that already.

dee’s dad, on the other hand… well, he’d been a flip side of that coin, but so had a lot of people, back then.

but dee smiles, ever so slightly, at the mention of his grandmother, so patton figures he hasn’t made any major social missteps.

yet.

“yes,” dee says, refocusing from where his eyes had been briefly fixed somewhere beyond patton, back toward the entry hall. “she’s doing well. i’ll tell her you said hello.”

another long pause. patton clears his throat, tapping his fingers on the counter, before he says, “how was school?”

“fine,” logan says, with a slight grimace.

“there was that, um. the thing in latin today, right?” patton says. “the recitation thing? tempora cum causis Latium digesta per annum lapsaque sub terras… i can’t remember any more.”

frankly, it’s a miracle he can’t. logan’s been reciting the first part of ovid’s fasti for the past week. he was pretty sure “scilicet arma magis quam sidera, Romule, noras, curaque finitimos vincere maior erat” would be running around in his head for a month, since logan had been chanting in his room like he was conducting some arcane ritual.

logan scowls, a dark look flitting across his face even as he finished patton’s line, “ortaque signa canam. yeah, that was today.”

“and?” patton prompts.

logan scowls. “he thought my pronunciation was over-rehearsed.”

“over-rehearsed?” patton says. “i mean—it would be, wouldn’t it? it’s not like you walk around and latin just casually tumbles out of your mouth.”

“precisely,” logan says.

“the man is an idiot,” dee says, brusque, turning his focus back again—patton didn’t think he’d done that bad of a job, tidying things up in there.

“i—well, now,” patton says, unsure of exactly how to step but he’s a dad it’s practically an instinct to instill manners, “don’t be mean.”

“no, he’s right,” logan says, looking at dee thoughtfully. “he is an idiot. he forgot to teach us the imperative verb tense and only remembered when all of us got it wrong on the imperative-centric quiz.”

dee rolls his eyes, the yellow one glinting. “i nearly forgot about that. my god, did the man get hired just because he plagiarized some old myths from percy jackson during the job interview?”

“those are greek,” logan says, “unless you’re referring to the later series.”

“my point,” dee says, “you cannot deny that charleston is a simpleton, look at the way he handled the moreno/watts situation.”

patton blinks. “what moreno/watts situation?”

logan also looks confused, but really the only way he can tell is because patton is his dad and knows when he’s covering up an emotion. well. most of the time. some of the time. more than most other people, let’s go with that one.

dee sighs, put-upon, before he says, “janey watts and sarah moreno were both taken to our esteemed headmaster’s office yesterday because mr. medina caught them about to claw each other’s eyes out in the alcove near the hidden rear staircase of the senior’s lounge. when attempting to discover what was wrong, mr. charleston’s first guess on what they were fighting about was that they were fighting over the same boy.”

logan allows his confusion to show. “but janey watts is a lesbian.”

“yes,” dee says, “and now you can see one of the many reasons why charleston is a simpleton.”

patton sighs. “well, charleston’s always been… a product of his time?” he says, and tries to elaborate. “you know, he backed up giving me a month of detention once because i refused to respond to my chosen name and pronouns.”

dee’s eyes darken. “bastard,” he spits out, filled with more venom than patton was expecting.

“hey, now,” patton says, even as startled as he is with… that. it’s not like dee and patton are particularly close, to warrant this level of defensiveness. well, patton guesses he’s in the gsa, so it makes sense that he’d be defensive of trans rights. “i could bust out the swear jar.”

“you’ve never had a swear jar,” logan says.

“i could start,” patton says.

logan turns to dee. “i didn’t know you were friends with janey watts.”

“oh, i’m not,” dee says, and then, matter-of-fact, “she thinks i’m a slimy jerk with no morals and who would sell out his own grandmother if it meant getting further ahead.”

patton feels a little stab of hurt, the way he usually does whenever he hears someone talk bad about themselves.

“then how did you know what charleston said?” logan says, and hey, good point! but logan’s always been more observant than him.

“oh, please,” dee says. “logan, you’re a journalist, you should know that we all have our own sources.”

“in the headmaster’s office?”

dee shrugs. “to secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but theopportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself.”

“sun tzu,” logan says. “art of war. you could do with the seem humble part.”

“but you’re already so filled with conceit,” dee says, and patton’s about to burst in with a hey now, but logan just shrugs.

“i know myself,” logan says.

“so you can win all battles?” dee says. “i didn’t know you read had an interest in ancient chinese literature.”

“mostly just that one,” logan says. “do you have an interest in ancient chinese literature?”

“mostly just that one,” dee parrots. “shall we get started?”

“may as well,” logan says.

“you kids want coffee while you do that?” patton says. “oh, and would you mind if i did my homework, too?”

“for your business degree,” dee surmises, and really, patton probably shouldn’t be surprised that he knows that, but he’s surprised anyway, darn it. “fine. it’s your house.”

so patton pours everyone some coffee and sets out cream and sugar, since he doesn’t know how dee takes his coffee, before he gathers up his own homework and settles in, listening absentmindedly as the boys sort through various options that’s been offered to them.

dee, it turns out, milks and sweetens his coffee to a frankly absurd degree—patton wouldn’t be surprised if dee would be met with a few mouthfuls of sugar-sludge at the bottom of his mug—and picks his way through snacks, eating them so swiftly and unnoticeably that patton doesn’t realize it until he goes for a pretzel and realizes the bowl is near-empty.

“i don’t suppose you want to do the ‘how i knew i was gay’ one,” dee says briskly. they’ve sorted through most of the list—this is the last suggested poster theme option—and then they’ll narrow down their yeses.

“certainly not,” logan agrees. “there isn’t particularly much to tell, anyway. boys were always just… pretty.”

“one boy,” patton murmurs slyly, grinning down at his homework even as logan half-heartedly stamps on his foot.

“not much for me, either,” dee says. “girls always had cooties, and i always knew i was a boy, so—“

everyone at the table freezes. and then things start to click.

the altered, strange uniform, as if to say look here, look directly here and nowhere else—hadn’t patton practically lived in too-baggy chilton sweaters, to hide his chest and later his binder from anyone who could have possibly seen it?

dee’s continuous glances toward the entry hall—not just at the clutter, but at patton’s trans pride scarf on display.

dee was short, and patton had been too—patton hadn’t even been 5′3″ before he started t on a more consistent basis, after logan was born.

dee for short, and nothing else—an unusual name, but it wasn’t like he could throw any stones with a name like patton, could he?

dee’s face shuttering in too-great anger, at the news that charleston had given patton detention for sticking up for himself—because he’d had experience with that, maybe?

and then:

patton thinks, oh.

as he stares at dee’s yellow-gloved fingers, curling into fists, he thinks: you’re like me.

the lashing out at other people. the isolating himself. the particular taste in clothes. the new name. the upper-class society. the potential clashing with parents.

oh, oh, oh.

if it weren’t for how perfectly, perfectly still dee was, patton could almost believe that he came out on purpose.

“okay,” patton says, when he realizes it’s probably been a too-long pause. “hey, it’s okay. me too, you know? we won’t say anything if you don’t want us to.”

dee dips his head in a nod, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“right,” he says hollowly, before he clears his throat and tries for his usual, arrogant tone. “of course.”

“we won’t,” logan agrees, and frowns. “i’m your academic rival, not some asshole that would out you without your consent.”

it’s at that that dee relaxes, fists unclenching. he smooths his hands over the poster.

“right,” he says, and clears his throat. “fine, then.”

patton hesitates, before he says, tentatively, “your grandma was really cool about it, when i came out. back in the day.”

dee’s lip quirk up, and patton knows he’s said the right thing.

“yeah,” dee says. “i mean, i can’t really remember it, it was back when i got adopted—”

“you’re adopted?” patton asks.

dee gives him an almost patronizingly amused look, gesturing to his dark skin, the vitiligo on his cheek. “yes, that’s such a shock, i’m sure, because my parents definitely match my coloring.”

patton flushes. “well, i’ve never met your mom.”

dee mutters something like what a blessing for you, and patton feels a flare of worry that he can’t really expand upon before dee continues, “yes, i’m adopted, from haiti. i was… i don’t know. four, five. i can’t remember it very well. but grandmother’s… yeah. grandmother’s the best.”

it’s the most fond patton’s ever heard him sound, and, from the look on logan’s face, it might be for him, too.

“i might try and get coffee with her soon,” patton says, casual. “and if, you know. if you want advice about, um. this. just let me know. yeah?”

dee’s eyebrow quirks at him, and he gives him a look full of quintessential teenage amusement and, potentially, embarrassment.

patton can relate. he was the same, a lot of the time, whenever people offered advice or help when he first came to sideshire.

well. maybe he was less sassy about it.

“can we focus on the project?” logan says tiredly.

“what, are you jealous you can’t contribute to the discussion about various nicknames for testosterone?” dee says.

patton grins. “the testoster-zone.”

“the t-party,” dee offers.

“ooh, good one,” patton says. “um—”

“can we please focus on the project?” logan says, more pointedly.

dee rolls his eyes, but turns back to his poster.

patton tries to focus on his homework, but he just can’t help it, and—

“anti-cis-tamines.”

“dad,” logan groans, and patton and dee share an amused glance, and—

well. maybe dee wasn’t the worst potential friend that logan could have brought over.

⁂

this place might as well be the twilight zone.

dee has his bowler hat on, and logan’s tall enough that they’re probably at a decent angle that he can’t tell that dee is looking around everywhere he can.

if only dee had managed to shake him off—but mr. sanders (”please, it’s patton, mr. sanders is my father!”) had insisted that either logan or patton walk dee back to the bus stop and, well, honestly, logan was the lesser of two evils.

not that mr. sanders is evil. he seems removed from that. too removed, if you get dee’s drift. no one could possibly be that deeply nice. there had to be something going on there. a ploy to get people to trust him, or something. the defenseless little puppy defense, or something. playing sweet and kind until it suits him.

even as he’s thinking this, something in his brain refuses to let it click into place. dee shakes it off. he’ll investigate later—whether it’s an opossum defense or a ploy or something—there’s too much to see here.

it’s like a group of tv set designers got together and thought, right, what are all the clichés of a tiny small town, added some overgrown ivy and picturesque worn red brick, and the entire place reeked of domesticity. he means, really, who even has a town center gazebo? dee’s seen flyers advertising for a twenty-four-hour dance-a-thon. for charity. “costumes and periodwear encouraged.” what kind of periodwear did one wear for a twenty-four-hour dance-a-thon?

the buildings have those twinkly lights all around it. the streetlights are wrought iron instead of the stark poles that are near the streets of his neighborhood. there is a community garden. there is a punnily named cat-themed store.

seriously. what planet is this?

they get to the bus stop.

(also—the bus? what was this, the middle ages?)

“right, then,” dee says. “you’re bringing the posters tomorrow?”

logan nods his head in assent, hands stuck in his pockets. apparently, that’s not a clear enough hint, but his research shows that logan doesn’t respond very much to subtleties.

“you can go,” he adds, bluntly.

logan shakes his head. “i’m just going to go to the diner for dinner, anyway, and not being there means that my dad can get sappy with virgil without my bearing witness. and besides, my dad would kill me for leaving you here alone.”

dee stares at him. “you do realize the likelihood of someone attacking me here is approximately on the same level as greedo being the one who shot first?”

logan blinks. “you’re a star wars fan?”

dee shrugs a shoulder, before he says, “more when i was a kid. i’ve got three snakes named—”

“rey, finn, and poe?” logan says, with a twist of his mouth.

“luke, leia, and han,” he corrects. “i said when i was a kid, sanders.”

“kid is an unclear term,” logan says. “for instance, i could argue that your viewpoint on the superior space western is childish, since the clearly superior space western franchise is—”

dee scoffs before he can finish his sentence. “of course you’re a trekkie.”

“so you admit it,” logan says, and dee rolls his eyes.

“i was just narrowing down the number of popular space westerns, spock.”

“i prefer data,” logan says.

another pause, before:

“snakes?” logan asks.

“garters, all three,” dee says. he hesitates, before he says, “luke and han are trans.”

“i wondered,” logan says. “since snakes can often eat each other, but if all three snakes were, ah—“

“afab?” dee provides.

“right, yes.” logan says. “may i see?”

“i don’t have them on me,” dee says, before he says, “yeah, all right” and digs out his phone, swiping for the latest photo of his snakes.

it turns out to be the one of grandmother, amused, looking just enough off-camera that it’s clear it isn’t candid, wearing leia as a necklace, luke and han in her upraised hands. logan smiles at the photo. well, smiles as much as he’s capable of smiling. dee thinks that the whole i prefer data thing might be a cover-up for the fact that logan might actually be a robot.

“the checkered one is leia, the one with the yellow stripe is luke, and the one with the brown stripe is han.”

“nice,” logan says. “and that’s your grandmother?”

“yes,” dee confirms, tucking his phone away.

“do you spend much time with her?” logan says.

“frequently,” dee says, and lies, “she lives closest to chilton, it just makes the most sense.”

well, the first part of that sentence isn’t a lie. it’s just that that isn’t the whole truth.

but partial truths are what he works best with, and he notes that logan nods, seeming to accept it as a whole truth, before his eyes turn elsewhere.

dee follows his gaze.

the window’s lit, gleaming softly, a wide window that allows a view.

there’s a boy in there, alone. he’s shirtless, and wearing red leggings typical of a dancer. even at the distance they’re at, dee can see his muscles straining as he moves, graceful and limbs elongated as he reaches and spins, slowly, achingly slowly, everything so precise down the slightest twitch of his finger, and logan is staring, eyes gone soft and awed and sweet, and—

“didn’t realize i was boring you that much,” dee comments, even if he is a little relieved that logan’s attention is off the question of his home life and on his pretty dancer. “that’s the boytoy, isn’t it?”

logan looks at him, eyes sharpening. “roman’s my boyfriend.”

“right, right,” dee says, waving it off. he’s distracted, good. “so that’s still a thing, then?”

“yes,” logan says. “that’s still a ‘thing.’”

he doesn’t use airquotes, but it’s a near thing. it’s basically implied in his tone of voice.

“do you like him a lot?” dee asks.

“i love him,” logan says simply—as if it’s a fact, indisputable, absolute.

dee nods, turning his attention back to the bus stop. it should be coming soon.

“are you going to tell him?” dee says abruptly and oh, now he’s done it, losing control of his mouth just once today isn’t enough, he really needs to make himself look like a fool, doesn’t he?

logan turns his attention more fully back to dee. “no.”

dee scoffs. “right.”

“i won’t,” logan says. “really. roman would understand, he’s—well, clearly he’s gay too, he understands the importance of coming out on your own terms.”

dee glowers at the ground, scuffing his shoe over the cement, before—

“my dad and i were effectively homeless until i turned six.”

dee pauses, and turns to look at logan.

logan isn’t looking at him. he’s got his hands clasped behind his back, still staring ahead, as if he’s keeping an eye out for the bus.

“my dad worked at the inn—he’s manager, now, but back then he was a housekeeper. he worked his way up. we could only afford to live in the poolhouse because the manager, maria, gave him a major cut on rent. i was bullied about it, when i was a child. my dad doesn’t know that.” a pause, and then, “my grandparents don’t know about the poolhouse, either. they thought we lived in the inn proper and got an apartment much sooner than we actually did. they’re paying for me to go to chilton. it comes with the condition of going to their house for weekly dinners.”

dee stares at him. “why would you tell me that?”

logan shrugs, and turns just his head to look at dee.

“i know you’re trans, you know where i lived and that i can’t afford schooling,” logan says simply. “if either of us feel tempted to let it slip…”

“then we know the other one has something in hand,” dee finishes slowly, not admiringly. “mutually assured destruction.”

it’s a sound strategy, really. logan takes the assumption that dee won’t listen to promises, and uses a shortcut. it’s a dangerous move, a gamble. not one he’d have expected, from logan. this day’s just full of surprises.

“precisely,” logan says. “for whatever reason, i don’t think you hold very strongly to the sense of the honor of giving someone your word.”

that last part is said in the closest tone to sarcastic that he thinks he’s ever heard logan use.

“you’re right, i don’t,” dee says, and swallows. “homeless?”

“i didn’t really put the pieces together until i was older,” logan says. “it still doesn’t seem like it, to me. we were happy.”

dee wonders what that’s like.

“well,” logan says, peeking down the way. “i think i hear the bus coming. i’ll bring the posters tomorrow.”

“right,” dee says. “so. are you going to suggest we dissolve the academic rivalry, then?”

logan hums, and tilts his head. “you know, you’ve been my only real competition since i showed up at chilton.”

dee does not preen.

“we’re the only ones who’ve ever challenged each other. without this, we’ll get lazy.”

“i’ll achieve nothing, i’ll become my mother,” dee quips, and logan smiles, just a little.

“right,” logan says. “so.”

dee pauses, before he says, “allies?”

logan smiles. “allies.”

as the bus rolls up, logan offers his hand, and dee shakes it, once. logan knows full well that he doesn’t hold to the honor of giving someone their word, but it still feels like they’re making a deal, anyway.

so dee clambers onto the bus, and settles in a window seat.

and if he smiles and turns details over his head the whole drive back, well. it’s not like anyone will know.

#Anonymous #ask #my fic #the sideshire files #deceit

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takkforaltijd · 4 years

Text

"I had no idea what to expect from this evening" 1/2

Some of you already know, but this story is inspired on the first time me and my boyfriend hung out together (just friends back then). During translating I kinda lost the whole vibe of Jens and I did it in 15 minutes so sorry for the bad grammar. I hope you still enjoy reading this.

Hopefully part two will be done next week.

(Also, I didn’t change the word Joe. It’s a way to say yes or okay in Dutch, but very flat I guess.. it’s kind of pronounced as ‘you’ but the emphasis is on the ou. Just see what you do with it haha)

Jens is home alone the weekend and has asked Lucas if he would like to come over. Friday has arrived and the two have not discussed it. Jens sends a message if Lucas still wants to hang out. - Or an evening with cards, drinks, good conversations and a first kiss.

--------------------------------------------

“Jens don’t forget to pick up Lotte after school and bring her to grandpa and grandma. We'll be out of here at eleven.” Jens picked up his coffee mug and headed to the kitchen to clean up the mess he’d made preparing breakfast. “Mom please, stop stressing! You’ll only go out two nights. I pick up Lotte this afternoon, take her to grandpa and grandma and see what I'm going to do tonight. I'll be fine."

Meanwhile, Jens's mother continued to search the apartment to see if she might have forgotten something. Jens watched from a safe distance, laughing. How could someone always be so organized, but when it comes to relaxation, so extremely stressed Jens thought.

Not much later, Jens opened the front door. He quickly shouted, "have fun this weekend." To which he received the answer “Thank you dear, take good care of yourself”. "Joe, don't worry!" he called back. Friends, drinks and pizza is taking good care of myself right, Jens thought with a grin on his face.

On the way to school, Jens suddenly thought about the fact that he had asked Lucas in the beginning of this week if he wanted to hang out tonight. All the boys had already made other plans. Robbe and Sander were going to some art exhibition for Sander’s school project, and Moyo and Aron went to some party he said no to. But Lucas said he could come over.

Jens was thinking about just not talking about it and going to game on his own tonight, but something inside Jens wanted to get to know Lucas better.

Since Lucas moved to Antwerp, he had joined him and the boys at the skatepark a few times and occasionally he was with them during the lunchbreak at school, but they had never done anything together without Jens's friends holding them company.

Maybe Lucas assumed they were going to do something together tonight and it would be a disappointment if he didn’t ask about it again. Or had he already completely forgotten the proposal. After all, Jens had asked the boys during the break on Monday and coincidentally Lucas was also there.

The thought haunted Jens all the way to school, but he really wanted to get to know Lucas. There was something about him, but Jens just couldn’t figure out what.

His attention kept being drawn to Lucas when he joined him and the boys at the skatepark or during breaks at school. He was genuinely interested in the Dutch boy. Interested in a way he’d only been with girls before…

That thought kind of scared Jens.

As always, Jens arrived just in time for his first class. The boys were already in the classroom and Jens quickly sat down next to Robbe. He secretly hoped classes would pass quickly until the first break so he could ask Lucas over lunch if he was coming tonight.

The lessons indeed passed quickly. It was almost summer vacation, so there was still enough that has to be done to finish all the material they needed to cover this year. However, the break was not as Jens had hoped. No Lucas at the table where the boys were sitting.

"Hey, are you listening?" a waving hand in front of Jens's face took him out of his mind. Huh? Uhh ... no sorry. What did you say?" Moyo repeated his question, “Are you sure you don't want to come tonight. I mean your parents don't see how drunk you're going to be tonight. ” Jens knew very well that he did not want to go to some party, he wanted to get to know a Dutch boy better. “No man, I’ll pass. I'm really not in the mood for a house party. ” Moyo sighed "I don't think you're in the mood for anything lately."

Fortunately for Jens, Robbe changed the subject quickly and was talking in his ‘full on detail mode’ what he and Sander were going to do, but Jens' thoughts drifted back to Lucas.

He picked up his phone. Because if he was not with them during the break, he had to ask it over text.

Lucas

__________________________________________ J:"Hey"

"I asked you on Monday if you would like to have a drink at my place tonight"

“Still up for it?”

__________________________________________

Jens didn't know why, but he didn't expect to get an immediate answer back.

Lucas

——————————————————————— L:"Sure sounds fun"

"Who else are coming?" __________________________________________

Who else will come ... nobody, Jens thought.

Suddenly he started to doubt the whole situation. Is it strange that I asked Lucas to do something. Like just the two of us together on a Friday night?

I don't mean we've never done anything together. We just never did anything without the boys.

Lucas __________________________________________

J:"I asked the boys"

"But they already have plans"

"So only you I guess"

"If you feel like it ofcourse"

L: 'sounds good'

"What time should I come?"

"Uh have to bring my sister somewere first"

"But I’ll be back pretty early"

"sooo”

“what about nine o'clock?"

“works for me”

"See you tonight!" __________________________________________

“Why are you laughing at your phone like an idiot. Come on we have to go to class. ” Jens got up and walked to their next class with Robbe. "Oh nothing. My Mom sent some pictures of what their hotel looks like and it made me realize how I have the whole house to myself the weekend.” Robbe looked a little confused at Jens. "Did you make plans then?" “Oh nothing special. Just gaming all weekend without someone saying that I am playing too long and that I get square eyes or something.” The boys walked into class laughing.

After the last lesson, Jens took his bicycle and went to Lotte's school. He had exactly ten minutes before her school ended.

His thoughts went back to Lucas while cycling. What on earth could they do tonight? Have a drink, maybe cards. At least if Lucas play. What if there are uncomfortable silences or we don't have anything to talk about.

Jens's brooding soon stopped when he parked his bicycle against the fence of Lotte’s schoolyard. There were already many parents and as always Jens got some questioning why such a young person came to pick up a child. An advantage of arriving late was not having to deal long with the questioning and disapproving looks of other parents.

The first children came out a few minutes later. Lotte walked out with two other girls. Both the girls looked familiar to Jens, they had been at his house quite some times. When Lotte saw Jens, she hugged the girls and walked over to her big brother. Jens was greeted with a big hug.

"Are you coming, I will take you to grandma and grandpa." The girl nodded and took Jens's hand. "Why don't you come to Grandpa and Grandma?" asked the girl.

"a friend is coming over tonight." Jens said.

"Robbe?" the little girl asked. Jens shook his head “no, with Lucas. I don't think you've ever met him. He only moved to Antwerp three months ago.”

Jens saw Lotte thinking and said "just say what you want to say." The girl laughed and started saying "is Lucas a friend or your boyfriend?" Jens didn't know what he was hearing. "Uh ... Lucas is just a friend and you know it's a boy, right?" the girl nodded "yes so ... you can also fall in love with a boy. Mila also has two dads" Jens wasn't sure what to say about this, because he didn't know if he could fall in love with a boy or, to be precise, Lucas. “I don't know if I can do that… But are you still jumping on the back of my bicycle or are you walking towards grandpa and gradma?” the girl laughed and jumped on the back of Jens's bike.

After Jens had dropped Lotte of, he stopped at the supermarket. He had looked in the pantry this morning and they had almost nothing left so he decided to get some chips and cola for the weekend. He had no idea what Lucas liked so he ended up with a bag full of snacks.

The chaos of Jen's mother was evident when he entered the house. On the stairs were still the clothes that she did not want to take with her at the last minute because “we are only going to go away two nights, I do not need two more shirts and a third pair of jeans.”

The boy took his phone out of his pocket at 4:42 PM. Another four and a half hours until Lucas is here.

Why am I making this such a big deal? I don't care what the house looks like and if I still have food in the house when the boys come over. When were out of snacks or beer, they're just unlucky, Jens thought. It was different with Lucas. A good impression, is that what Jens wanted to make?

Not much later, Jens had cleaned up all his mother and sister's stuff lying around, put the snacks in the pantry and even vacuumed. Jens sank onto the sofa. Who would have thought, Jens who tries his best when someone comes over. He couldn't help but laugh at that thought, even he himself was amazed at his actions.

The sound of his phone pulled Jens out of his mind.

Lucas

__________________________________________

L: "You live in that neighborhood behind the park, right?"

J: 'Yes I do'

"Are you coming by bike?"

'hell yes'

"I am still a Dutchman"

"Oh then I'll cycle towards you, that’s easier I think"

"Are you going via the harbor?"

'Yes'

"I will send a message when I leave the house"

"Joe " __________________________________________

19:33. More than an hour until Lucas would cycle home, Jens thought. He got up to throw out the pizza box and get something to drink. In the kitchen, he realized how many old photos of him were hanging on the walls and was almost ashamed of them. Who was he kidding? He was ashamed. There were quite a few photos of mini Jens with some vague haircut, family photos, photos with Lotte. The Boys had captured it extensively on their phones. "In case we ever have to blackmail you with anything." Fingers crossed that Lucas doesn't pay much attention to it, Jens thought.

20:47.

Lucas

__________________________________________

L:"I'm walking to my bike right now"

"Do I see you at the harbor?

J: "Yess"

'see you soon'

'see you soon!'

__________________________________________

#jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #vds #lucas vdh #skam #skamnl #wtfock #van der stoffels #vds fic

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gofancyninjaworld · 5 years

Text

OPM in 2019, part 2

Yup, this was all too long, so I now have to attend to the manga. This year, Murata kept his promise from 2018 to deliver regular chapters. Even the passing of his father only made him take a few weeks off.

By the numbers. This year, Murata delivered 24 updates consisting of 624 pages. It may not be the banner year of 2017 2018, but it still averages out at more than 50 pages a month. He also drew 113 pages for volume releases in extra chapters, volume-only content and chapter redraws. We thank you for your hard work, Mr. Murata!

As to the words and pictures, much more below the cut!

beautiful and poignant -- probably the best cover this year.

Be warned: this contains major plot spoilers

Broad Strokes

Last year focussed on the Hero Association response to the Monster Association, gathering up heroes, sorting out battle plans and sending them into the field. In the course of the war effort, the characters whom we’ve been following most consistently all got parked in one place or another. We turned decisively away from Saitama, Genos, Garou, Fubuki, Bang, and King to focus on what the other heroes were doing, getting to know many more of them.

This year, we’ve seen the first triumphant contact the heroes made gradually be eroded away as the monsters launch their counter-attack and one by one the parked characters have been brought back into the story to varying effect.

2020 is promising to be the showdown year that will give us the final denouement, but I can’t promise that. What I can promise is a closer look at the major themes of 2019.

Orochi

From half-assed plot to bad-ass plan

The first big thing is just how important Monster King Orochi has been to the story. More specifically, it's crazy how vital a linchpin he has been to Psykos’s humanity extermination plan. The webcomic that doesn’t have Orochi makes her plan a sick joke. Like, seriously, how was Psykos planning to take over the world? In the webcomic, if things had gone to plan and she'd gotten rid of the heroes sent to the Monster Association, what then? Not enough monsters to kill billions of people and no way to get the monsters that she does have there. Monsters are also terribly uncooperative and undisciplined. The long-term cooperation to kill billions of people just isn’t going to happen -- without the clear, limited goal that killing Class S heroes was, they’ll just split up. Society wasn't about to fall into a weeping puddle: we’ve seen both in the manga and the webcomic that there are loads of strong people, and that people are resilient and adaptable. It's like, that was a total idiot plot from the outset. It’d end in failure as society adapted faster than the bickering monsters (those that didn’t leave) appreciated.

yeah, you and what army?

On the other hand, Monster King Orochi makes Pyskos's dream a credible reality. First, thanks to him, she got the cooperation of monsters like Elder Centipede, who was particularly important in the lead up to the Monster Association’s declaration of war. It dug enough tunnels that monsters could appear simultaneously in multiple cities throughout the world. Second, thanks to Orochi, she got millions of monster cells which meant that huge chunks of the population could be simultaneously monsterised in multiple locations, each able to help kill off the rest of humanity. Their dry run two days previous to the current manga events confirmed that humanity simply couldn't cope with monsters showing up in so many places at once and yes, now they had a shot. They could kill off the powerful organised heroes and then quickly make civilised life impossible before any credible fight back could be organised.

This plan works.

when you realise that it’d only take a couple of hours to replenish the Monster Association’s forces

If that's all Orochi could do, it'd be plenty. It made a bad, half-assed idiot plot into a real threat. But that's not all. He's a crazy powerful monster, one Psykos was counting on to deal the death blow to the most powerful heroes, especially Tatsumaki.

Unfortunately for Psykos, Saitama seems to have given Orochi a bad case of the deads. And Amai Mask seems to have destroyed her precious store of monster cells. Unless she have a back up depot of monster cells, her humanity extermination plan has hit a real snag. Many fans do hold out hope that Orochi isn't dead-dead and may Awaken to be real trouble. But we'll see.

Acceptance

Speaking of Saitama and Orochi, something very important happened to Saitama’s character development that simply hasn’t happened yet in the webcomic. Saitama accepted that yes, he’s just the strongest being alive.

We’ve seen Saitama struggle with not finding a worthy challenge. He has bargained with it, dreaming of being weak enough to find the Subterraneans a threat. He has been angry about it, shouting his outrage when Vaccineman died after one hit. He has been depressed about it; we saw his whole collapse in the wake of the Superfight which led him to opening up to King. And now, when he heard Orochi trying to introduce himself, he realised that this was just another useless blowhard like the jerk who’d kicked him to the moon and cut it short. ‘What makes you so special?’ ‘Come at me then, but I’m expecting nothing.’

all according to expectation

It’s so rare to see Saitama show any character development, so this moment, small as it is, is really a profound step forward for the character. We will see what happens as a result in chapters to come.

Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity

Good luck that is. And that’s been shining on Psykos despite the setback of losing Orochi. All the work we’ve seen her put in since chapter 57, observing heroes, sending out monsters to attack them and then seeing how they respond, has finally paid off.

Between chapters 94 and 112, the manga really showed us precisely why the Class S heroes were so respected as the ultimate answer to the worst of the worst monsters.

And now, by carefully siccing the right super-powerful monster on hero, Psykos has achieved what looked impossible: defeat Class S heroes en masse.

and bad luck is what happens when lack of preparation meets a challenge

It’s perfect, save monsters have a long-documented love of savouring their prey and aren’t killing the heroes as fast as they should. Silly things: they leave the window open to rescue.

Machinations

A cyborg makes wild accusations...

Holy moly, has any hero’s stock risen and sunk as fast as Drive Knight’s has? In the space of a month, two updates, this enigmatic hero went from the new darling of the fandom to at best, a very self-interested ‘hero’ and at worst, the very traitor Metal Knight warned Child Emperor about.

We’ve known nothing about Drive Knight, what he did and just why he had a top ten ranking. Well, we got a great masterclass in why when with a fantastic combination of power and guile, he defeated the cadre Nyan, making him the first hero other than Saitama to do so. In fact Drive Knight is so polished in both the type of technology he has and the fluency with which he wields it that he makes Genos look like a glorified garage project. Oh wait... that’s accurate, isn’t it?

looking like Boros’s long-lost cousin, Drive Knight’s gold splendour

It’s what Drive Knight did next that set audiences against him. First, we learned that he watched the support heroes get cut down while he formulated the perfect plan. Okay, maybe he’s just a cold operator. Second, the terrifying efficiency with which he pumped Sekingar for information on the vulnerability of the Hero Association, then failed to protect him when G-5 showed up to stop Sekingar from reporting back to the Hero Association. Third, while we’ve known that Drive Knight is no fan of Metal Knight, accusing the latter of deliberately supplying the Monster Association is another story. It has left us wondering whether Drive Knight is simply paranoid -- or is looking to deflect suspicion from himself. What is not in question is that there really is a visitor from The Organisation harvesting the very data Drive Knight is worried about for the very purposes he outlines.

Drive Knight did not look best pleased when Genos intervened in affairs and destroyed G-5, but handed over (or cut his losses?) peaceably enough. For some reason, Drive Knight still seems to think that Genos is on his side, still going ‘we’ and making a distinction between them and the rest of humanity when explaining his desire to leave with Nyan. Why?

We have no idea when Drive Knight will reappear or quite what side he’s on, but one thing is for sure: he’s a powerful mover in this world and is bound to pose some dread challenge when he does.

...but a greedy old man looks set to pay dearly

Top shadenfreude for me: if G5 didn't successfully remotely transmit everything it'd learned about the Metal Knight back, then Bofoi will be in the painful position of having to acknowledge that Genos got his wrinkly little nuts out of the fire. Yup, that guy Bofoi refused to help and left to die the first time he met. That guy he started a whispering campaign against at the Hero Association. That one.

By the time Sekingar gets back and gives his story, Dr Bofoi will have most of the story. Once Child Emperor reports in, Bofoi will have put all the bits together. He’ll understand that he dodged a very large bullet as The Organisation had successfully hacked into his robot. And he was lucky their emissary didn't live to report its findings.

How did Bofoi get in this shitty position? By getting greedy. He was so desperate to get a sample of Elder Centipede’s armour that he had his robot cling on and get carried into the Monster Association base. And then let it sit and listen in. He didn’t budget on Orochi being able to disable the robot before he could trigger its self-destruct sequence.

unfortunately for Bofoi, the Monster Association isn’t quite as selfish as he is and had no problem letting The Organisation harvest what it could of the machine they couldn’t themselves use.

It’s super unlikely that the Hero Association will take Drive Knight’s words uncritically, but they’re not stupid people -- they’ll understand that a major security breach has occurred. Suffer a little, Dr. Bofoi.

Old Players, New Roles

This year we have had no new characters introduced. But we have had cause to re-evaluate several that we thought we knew.

Sekingar was totally the breakout star here, surprising himself probably more than anyone else in finding that he truly did have what it took to be a hero. I won’t go into it, full breakdown here. What I will say is that unlike someone like Suiryu, who is just an ordinary person, Sekingar is very highly placed within the Hero Association and looks set to be promoted further. What he has to say and enact about the way heroes operate WILL have a disproportionate effect on the Hero Association, its future and maybe humanity’s safety.

heroism is what you find when there are no good options but you do the right thing anyway

Genos continued to develop this year. Last fight, he’d been devastated at not having been able to save any heroes. This time out, saving people and showing a real resolve to take the fight to the monsters is front and centre of his actions, finally ending the hostage rescue part of the Hero Association plans.

it’s one thing to see a hero standing on top of a dead monster, but seeing this tiny guy on an armoured carrier and knowing that he could kill everybody in the convoy effortlessly did more to sell the insanity of Class S to me than many monster fights could. No wonder ordinary men call them monsters.

Two big changes from the webcomic to the manga have been first, splitting Genos off from the rest so he has to act out of his own heart rather than being carried along/supported by others. And second, giving him information about the monsters so he can descend to Hell with open eyes. If any webcomic readers thought that Genos was being impulsive and naive when he took on the cadres rather than brave, the manga decisively lays that to rest. This boy is truly courageous.

Finally, the hero most known for scheming to lord it over others (in order to feel better about herself), Fubuki, closed out the year by showing an amazing side to her.

She’s long hated dealing with strong monsters and Overgrown Pochi is her worst nightmare -- a true terror of a monster. She feels it all: inadequate, scared, frustrated, vulnerable. Accepts that she’s almost certainly going to die. And then uses her delusion of leading Bang and Bomb as a source of strength to bolster their bodies and protect them from harm for long enough for them to counter attack.

The bloodshot eye, the veins standing proud out of the sheer effort wrung out of her, the blood running down her face as she faces the monster. No fucks given about decorum or looks: she’s going down swinging. Bravo!

Oh yeah, and Garou woke up. He seems a bit mad.

the second-best cover of 2019

#OPM #meta #2019 review #manga #heroes #Orochi #Psykos #Saitama #Drive Knight #Metal Knight #Dr Bofoi #Genos #Sekingar #Fubuki #Bang #Bomb #Garou #we wait to see what 2020 will bring

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crewhonk · 5 years

Text

... Of The Line (2)

A series collaboration with @nomadsgrogers where she writes for Giovanna as the reader! We’re just projecting onto our writing, its FINE

Series Summary: Steve watches YN Banner grow up before his eyes– from a shy, dorky sixteen-year-old to a fierce, brilliant woman who never fails to keep him on his toes. He knows that she’s untouchable, but that doesn’t stop him from being completely wrapped around her finger for the rest of his long life.

Series Warnings: Mutual Pining, age gap, gun use, these two are idiots– seriously they’re so dumb, slow burn, injuries

Pairings: eventual Steve Rogers X Banner!Reader, eventual Buky Barnes X OC!Stark

Chapter Summary: YN goes on her first mission with the gang. YN takes care of her guy who also isnt her guy. YN and Steve are both idiots who attend a party.

Words: 4.0K

Warnings: battle, steve is an ass man, peitro is a flirt, YN and Steve are stupid,

@nomadsgrogers version >> (” Till the End…”) Introduction / Part 1 / Part 2

“… Of The Line” >> MASTERLIST

_______________________

July, 2015

It was only a few months once Natasha, Giovanna and Steve returned that the whole team was called out for a mission. There were months of debriefs and reports and strategic meetings— all headed by Steve Rogers who seemed to have some sort of personal vendetta against the guy running the arms dealing operation. Baron Von Wolfgang Strucker (“who would name their poor child that of all things?” “YN, focus.” “Yes, Captain”) had evaded Steve for three long years and finally, he was here only a few kilometres away from their current position in South Eastern Europe.

“Alright, team— focus up. We have one shot at this and one shot only. We can’t mess this one up because Strucker had only gotten more and more powerful over the years, and we have no idea what he would be capable of with the sceptre if he got away again. We are quick, we are precise, we leave as little damage as possible and get out with the sceptre.” Steve’s voice echoed across the small clearing where they had set up camp and YN couldn’t help but roll her eyes just a little bit at the Captain voice he was using. He was commanding them as if he wasn’t crying (bawling his god damn eyes out) to the second ‘How To Train Your Dragon’ in YN’s room only twelve hours before.

Nothing had progressed in their relationship since the day at the hospital, much to the frustration of everyone in the Tower. Sure, they were allowing themselves to touch each other and sit just a little closer together during nights in the common room, but as soon as they got too close or the room felt too small, either Steve would pull away or Giovanna would burst through the door or an explosion would happen a few floors below, calling for YN’s attention.

Nobody was more frustrated about this than Steve. He had tried his damned best to see other people in Washington. He had gone on dates with Lucy, and Marley, and other names that ended in a ‘y’ but he could never see anything other than YN. He could never see anything other than her brilliant green eyes and even more brilliant laugh and it killed him to know that YN was the one person he would never be able to have.

Sam had smacked him upside the head the second Steve muttered about how she was too good for him— too young.

“Man, you really are dumb, huh?”

Steve had the dignity to look offended.

“Excuse me?”

“Dude, she looks at you like you have the ability to tell her all the secrets int he whole damn world. She looks at you like Indiana Jones looked at the Talice in that tomb.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You’re not listening to me! She likes you— like, likes you likes you and if you don’t realize that you like her just as much if not more, than she’s gonna be gone!”

It didn’t stop her though, from being in his life. She looked out for him in more ways than one and it showed. His steps were lighter, his shoulders more relaxed up until about a week ago when the American Embassy accepted his request to go on a raid overseas.

“You’re going to get wrinkles if you frown like that for too long,” YN said, appearing suddenly beside him. He had avoided looking at her all day— the shapely, stretchy fabric of her uniform showed off the muscles she was working on. Her thighs had become thicker, shoulders more defined and her back muscles rippled every time she moved, and Steve wasn’t terribly opposed to watching her move forever. He, now 28, couldn’t look at someone who would be turning 21 in a weeks time like he wanted to eat her alive, but he would be damned if he denied that the curve of her ass didn’t make his mouth water.

“I’m going to get wrinkles anyway.” He said, wrapping his hands before pulling on his fingerless leather gloves. YN refrained from calling them entirely impractical.

“You’re no fun to tease when the Captain’s out to play, you know.” YN smiled, bouncing on her toes with excitement. This was her first real mission and she was eager to please not only her dad and uncle but she really, truly just wanted to make Steve proud.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” He muttered and YN almost blanched at the pet name. “I’m just— I want this to be the last day I have to deal with this asshole.”

“Language.” She teased and he rolled his eyes. If anyone swore more than YN and Giovanna, it was, in fact, Steve Rogers. “And we’ll get him. We have Thor. We have Big Guy. Everything is planned. We’ll get him, I promise.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

__________________

“Giovanna Stark! If you don’t stop swinging me around I’ll throw up in your Louboutin heels!” YN screamed over the din of gunfire into the comms. Originally, she was going to get to the HYDRA base on the back of Steve’s motorbike, but, in light of Tony’s new birthday present to his favourite daughter the plan had ended up changing.

“Sorry! You know I only practice with this thing when dad’s gone!” Her best friend cried out and YN swore loudly when he shins smacked a tree branch.

Tony Stark had thought it the brilliant idea to let his wild, tornado of a daughter use her own suit. A gold and pearl suit she had made and manufactured and fit to herself, stored away until her dad gave her the green light to use.

“YOU WHAT?” Tony roared over the comms, pulling up beside the two women and managing to glare them both down through the glowing eyes of his own suit.

“Yeah, we meant to tell you— when you go down to Washington, me and YN practice with the suit. I’d say we’re getting pretty good, honestly.” Giovanna’s voice gave away that she was smiling under the mask. She raised her free hand and blasted a canon in the way of the jeep Natasha was driving with the rest of the team in it.

“We’re mediocre at best and please go up another two feet because this branch will take out my KNEES!” YN squealed, raising her knees to her chest and turning to watch as her father, green and angry, smashed his way through it.

“As much as I love this family heart to heart,” Steve’s irritated tone sounded in their ears. “Can we please focus on the task at hand. Tony, see if there’s a barrier protecting the base.”

“Yes, Captain Rogers!” Tony mocked, speeding ahead and almost immediately ricocheting off of the force field surrounding the building. “Shit!”

“Language!” Steve swore back, and YN let out a loud guffaw.

“Stevie, you know that’s my line!” YN laughed as Giovanna dropped her in the forest. Her knees and thighs were bruised, and in some choice places even cut through the Kevlar. She was almost immediately hounded by three HYDRA agents and YN’s eyes flashed a daring green before she pulled the guns from her thigh holsters and shot them all in the shoulders and knees— not killing them, but taking them out quickly and efficiently. She pressed her back to one of the larger trees to regroup and hide from the bunker that was about thirty meters away.

“YN you should have seen what Steve just did!” Giovanna exclaimed over the comms and YN rolled her eyes at the amused noises made from other team members.

“Why should I have seen it, Gio?” YN grunted as a bullet whizzed by her ear. She was shortly joined by Clint who loaded a bow and arrow before taking a breath and winking over at her— teasing.

“Because he just threw his bike and took out a whole jeep with it!”

Yeah, YN wished she was there for that one.

Clint drew the arrow, aimed and shot and both he and YN hid behind their trees, silent and tents for the explosion that never came. Clint and YN looked at each other before he drew another bow and drew it again, shrugging to YN and stepping out to fire once more.

However, before he was able to, there was a rushing noise and Clint was thrown to the ground with a breathless grunt.

“Clint!” YN yelled, rushing over and sliding to the ground to help him and make sure he was fine. When they both made to stand, there was a man around YN’s own age staring down at them. He had white, silver hair and eyes that matched. There was a lazy grin on his face and his shoulders were relaxed. Both of Clint’s arrows tucked into his elbow.

“Hello, beautiful lady,” His accented voice would have made her blush in any other situation. In a flash, his finger was crooked under her chin and she glared into his white eyes. His gaze flicked from her own eyes to her lips twice before he turned to Clint, his arrow pointed directly at the space between the mans eyebrows.

“You guys didn’t see that coming?” And then he vanished into seemingly thin air.

“What the fuck, Steve! We have an enhanced! Male— possibly teleportation?” YN rushed into her comm as she helped Clint to his feet. She dropped his arm in fright when the enhanced appeared over her shoulder, breath tickling her neck and he spoke.

“Speed actually.” He corrected before running off again.

“Okay, fine. He’s fast. Really fast you won’t see him coming.” YN bent over quickly to scoop up some snow and press to her burning cheeks much to the amusement of Clint, who had just begun to stand.

“Understood,” Steve replied. “You okay?”

“Good. Just a little blindsided is all.” YN huffed when Clint snorted. “You okay?”

“I’m good.” He said back, voice warm and soft.

“As much as I love this whole romance story developing here, we still have a couple of issues to be dealing with!” Natasha said, running towards YN and Clint over the knoll behind them. There was only a moment of distraction. Only a moment of distraction while a Chitauri HYDRA weapon took out the entire left side of Clint’s torso.

“Clint’s down!” YN and Natasha cried in unison, both rushing to his side to pull him into some bushes for cover. YN went to work quickly, pulling the small bottle of 99% alcohol from one of her pockets on her belt and pouring it over the smoking flesh. A shower of bullets rained over the trees just barely guarding the three made them all dive to cover a fading Barton.

“Can someone take care of that bunker, please?” Natasha hissed, and almost immediately there was a dash of green and the bunker was set on fire. Hulk took a large gun from the flames and tore it in two, getting distracted quickly by the sounds of Thor’s lightning.

“Thanks, Papa!” YN cheered, still working on Clint’s side to stop the bleeding. She stabbed him in the neck with a shot of morphine and almost immediately, his groans and cries of pain subsided to small, hoarse whimpers.

“Starks!” Steve grunted over the crashing sound of metal on metal. “Get inside!”

“We’re on it!”

There was a rush of Natasha informing the team that Clint was hit pretty bad, and YN looked down at her work— the white of the gauze she had on hand already turning an ugly crimson red. It wasn’t long until Thor appeared with the sound of thunder following him. YN smiled up at him gratefully and he winked, tousling her hair and leaving her a few choice words before scooping Natasha and Clint into his arms.

“Find your father,” His voice rumbled. “Get him to the jet when you can.” Before he jumped off the ground.

Finding her dad wasn’t hard. It was simply a means of following the sounds of groans and crashing and the trail of broken trees snapped clean in half. She found him later, in a clearing, stomping around and throwing heavy chunks of metal as far as he could. She watched him, folded clothes in her lap as she crouched on the ground and waited for Big Guy to see her on his own. Calling attention to herself would only make him lash out, and she knew the last thing her father would want would be to show that side of him to his baby girl.

His fiery green eyes landed on her soon enough, and Hulk suddenly looked horrendously nervous and scared.

“Hey, Dad,” YN spoke to her father, knowing that if she did, both Bruce and Hulk would see that is what she needed from them.

“Time to head out. Clint’s been hit pretty bad and we need to get home so we can get him back on his feet for Saturday. Cho’s gonna try out that machine we’ve been working on, and I think it would be really cool if you were there to see our little baby working for the first time.” YN continued, walking slowly towards the Hulk who seemed to be entranced by her voice. It only took her to get a foot away from him and a simple touch on his arm for his muscles to begin shifting and his bones cracking. YN, wincing at every sound, placed her dads' clothes on a nearby bench and jogged away, not only to give him his privacy as he got dressed but also to get away from the noises of pain that too often haunted her worst dreams.

____________________

YN stood up from her place at her dads' side on the jet, cradling his face briefly and smiling back at him before walking over to the table where a now unconscious Barton lay. Steve was replacing the IV while YN joined him, raising the shock blanket to see that the new bandages on his waist were now only a light pink instead of a dark red.

“You okay?” Steve’s voice rumbled from across the gurney and YN looked up. It only took her a moment for her gaze to focus on him and she nodded with a small, very forced smile.

“Just worried about dad is all. Nothing big.” She replied, voice weak and tired. “Are missions always this intense?” She squinted up at him and he only chuckled nodding for her to follow him to a bench of chairs.

“No, they’re usually boring intel missions. This was one of the big ones which is why we needed everyone. I would have liked to warm you up, personally.” Steve said, turning and sitting on one of the seats. YN took a seat one space over regretfully— all she wanted at this point of the day was to curl up into his side and sleep for a concerning amount of time. The words he spoke took a few seconds to process and when they did, they immediately went to places her father would be shocked existed.

I wouldn’t mind you personally warming me up, either.

“You’re bleeding,” she noticed, and he was. There was a deep cut over his eyebrow and she moved to wipe the blood slowly dripping into his eye. She stood quickly, grabbing a few Q-Tips, a butterfly bandage and antiseptic before returning, setting everything on the bench beside where Steve sat.

“YN, Sweetheart. It’ll heal by the time we’re—“

“Home, I know. I just— let me do this, please.” She looked into his eyes and watched them move over her face. He noticed the red swelling under her eyes and the downturn of her lips and the crease between her brows. YN was always a nurturing person— everyone knew this— it wasn’t until this second that he realized she cared about other people to make herself feel saner.

He clenched his jaw and nodded, refraining from gasping when one of her hands came to cradle his face gently. Her thumb brushed over the skin of his cheekbone and he let his eyelids flutter momentarily, leaning only slightly into her touch. If YN wasn’t so nervous at their sudden proximity, she would have noticed (like Giovanna and Natasha did) that it looked like Steve was about to damn well start purring.

Steve was right— the cut had mostly healed up by the time she even cleaned all the blood from his face. It was only about the length of her pinky nail, only as deep as the white tip of that nail, but YN still made sure to clean it properly and bandage it even more so. She pressed the small band-aid to the skin thumb brushing just barely over it before trailing her hand down his face and resting on the side of his neck. The two hadn’t even realized that his hand had come to rest on her waist, pulling her barely closer.

“All done, Cap.” Her voice was weak, and he blinked his way out of the YN spell he had just been put under.

“Thank-you, Sweetheart.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper as the jet touched down and she stepped away. The rest of the team turned to look anywhere but them when she did so, and she met Giovanna and Natasha at the door to the tower. Both women were waiting, cheeky, smug smiles on their faces at YN’s own dreamy, blushing expression.

“Not a word.”

“But—“

“Not. A word.”

_______________________

The tower was full of people neither Giovanna nor YN knew by the time the clock struck nine. Since Giovanna was only born nine days before YN had been, both girls decided it would be the most fun (and easiest for everyone) to have a joint birthday party every year. This year was particularly exciting, as Thor Odinson happened to be in the realm, his booming laughter and mead flowed, making everyone over the moon with happiness and excitement.

Steve cradled the beer bottle in his hand gingerly as Sam walked with him up the steps to the second sub-floor of the public common room. The beer had, of course, been spiked with the Asgardian liquor, and Steve could feel it already working in the tingles of his fingertips and toes and lips. He, however, was restless as he told a story absently to Sam, who seemed to pick up the reason why his best pal seemed so distracted at the moment.

YN was nowhere to be seen.

“Sounds like a hell of a fight, sorry I missed it” Sam responded to Steve’s story about the mission that had taken place only hours before. It had turned out to be majorly successful. Strucker was behind bars and the Sceptre was in the labs upstairs, to be returned to Asgard the following morning when Thor was set to leave.

“If I knew it was gonna be a firefight, I absolutely would have called,” Steve replied, beginning to join Sam, leaning against the balcony railing overlooking the party.

“No, No, I’m not actually sorry. I was tryna sound tough, you know? I’m very happy chasing cold leads on our missing persons' case. Besides, from what I read of the report, you and a certain radioactive little lady were perfectly capable of handling it yourselves.” Sam smirked in satisfaction as Steve looked frustrated at the news of Bucky still being a cold lead paired with the flustered-ness of the mention of YN’s name.

“We didn’t even fight together. It was her first mission and she did—“ Steve cut himself off, then, the breath having suddenly disappeared from his lungs. Natasha, Giovanna and YN had walked into the room together. Natasha, in a classic black and white dress, sky high heels to match, Giovanna in some dark, colourful designer dress with wide shoulder pads and YN in the prettiest dress Steve had ever seen since the 40s.

It wasn’t much, a simple off the shoulder black dress with sleeves that ended just below her elbows. The dress had a skirt that flared prettily over her hips and thighs, ending just above her still-bruised knees and shins. The heels made her the tallest girl in the trio, and the margarita in her hand seemed to be one of the only things keeping her in the too-full room. She, bruises and all, was probably the prettiest thing he had seen in at least 80 years. his mouth watered at the sight of her revealed skin, fingertips itching to ghost over it and make her shiver just for him.

“Steve?

“What?”

“I was asking you something. You okay, man?” Sam asked, worried that the sound of the three hundred people in the area was beginning to overwhelm him. Sam only needed to follow his sight line to see what was truly distracting him.

“Oh, okay.” Sam smirked, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s. “Guess the guests of honour have finally arrived, then.”

“Who?” Steve whipped his head to look sharply at Sam. His eyebrow was raised already, smug smirk over his face as he leaned over the railing. When Steve still looked dazed and confused, Sam jut his chin YN’s general direction just as she let out a loud laugh that carried across the room and settled in Steve’s bones. “YN? No. I— she’s not— I’m not— we’re not—“

“Okay, then.”

_________

“You’re distracted,” Giovanna said about an hour later. Her best friend had been quiet all night and not for the simple reason of exhaustion. The pair had been all day in the lab, working with their dads to try to crack and reprogram the alien technology they only had for a few more hours. Usually, with their four heightened IQ’s and a few hours, the four would be able to solve any issue easily with time to spare. This, however, was something entirely new and entirely frustrating.

“I’m drunk,” YN mumbled over the rim of her glass, taking a sip and wincing at the sting of the mead Thor had teasingly slipped in her drink in passing. Giovanna scoffed and motioned for the bartender to bring her another drink.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“What’s going on, then?”

“It’s nothing, honestly—“

“It’s something and I’m going to annoy you until you tell me,” Giovanna promised with a petty smile and YN knew her words were true— it happened more often than she liked to admit.

“Fine! Okay— I’m a powerful Avenger with one of the best brains in the world. I’m twenty-one in four days and I’m a virgin and Steve Rogers is drunk wearing a shirt that looks like it's going to rip off at any second.” She almost growled in frustration, sucking in a breath when Steve bent over to take another shot at the pool game he was playing with Sam— the man from the hospital. He had sunk the eight ball and threw his arms in the air and the muscles in his back flexed with the motion. She practically whimpered when he let out a triumphant yell, deep voice resounding over the room.

“Have you had wine yet tonight?” Giovanna asked after making a noise similar to when she was thinking about a lab issue.

“No, I’ve been having beer why?”

“Hmm. You’re hornier than usual.”

“No, I’m not— just at an all-time high of sexual frustration. That rabbit you got me last year is doing nothing for me anymore.” YN grumbled, forcing herself to turn away from Steve who was now heckling Sam playfully.

“You know, Tristan from Tech has the biggest crush on you. I’m sure he’d say yes in a heartbeat if you asked.” Giovanna tried, only becoming frustrated with the way YN shook her head again.

“You and I both know that that won’t be happening.”

“A girl can try to get her best friend laid.”

“A girl can make Captain America fall in love with her best friend.” YN retorted, throwing Giovanna a quick apology at her rudeness. Giovanna waved her hand as if to swat the apology away. If anyone knew the emotional roller coaster fo sexual frustration it was her— at least she knew what she was missing out on. Poor YN was completely and entirely clueless— in more ways than one.

________________

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dramallamadingdang · 5 years

Note

Speaking of religion, I saw in a lot of MTS off-topic discussions that you identified yourself as a Christian and defended it a lot. I think you even said once that you were waiting for your husband to die so you can remarry? IDK. What made you switch to our side?

Ooooooh, deconversion testimony. Let’s do this thing, man!

Yes, I was a quite fundamentalist Christian, in certain respects, for a long time. I was part of a non-denominational church that had strong Pentecostal leanings. The theology was very much of the “hellfire and brimstone” variety, and to this day I can still speak in tongues with the best of them. *laugh* Thankfully, I had not been indoctrinated into any religion as a child, but rather did the “Save me, Jesus!” prayer at the age of 15, after attending my friend’s Assembly of God church for a while off and on, mostly when I’d stay over at her place on Saturday nights. Initially, my conversion was mostly an act of rebellion against my nominally-Catholic but spiritually lackadaisical mother. (By that I mean that she’s probably always been atheist but she never wanted to use the “A” word to describe herself because of its negative connotations, particularly amongst her very Catholic family.) But, even though I didn’t really take it seriously at first, Fundie Christianity got its hooks into me pretty good.

That being said, I always had some beliefs that did not toe the party line, as it were, precisely because I had not suffered childhood indoctrination. The primary things that I had to keep more on the down-low were that I could never be anti-gay, nor could I ever accept creationism as true. (I saw the latter as utterly idiotic even when I was at my Christian-est, although for a while I was convinced of intelligent design.) However, I was very convinced of God’s existence, and I swallowed the hell thing whole, and I believed that the Bible, aside from its creation fairy tale, was all true but that it needed to be read in historical context in order to understand what it “really meant.” That last bit was how I got around thorny things like, for instance, the Bible’s denouncement of homosexuality in both of its Testaments as well as its balls-out endorsement of slavery in both Testaments. But, I did love me some Jesus, yes. I was one of those who focused more on on the happy-lovey verses in the New Testament while deliberately not addressing the far more numerous horrifying bits in both Testaments. I coasted along in my faith just fine. I was even good at winning converts for the church because, having been raised by lawyers who wanted me to be a lawyer, too, I was indoctrinated into bull-headed logic and rhetoric and argument as a child. :)

Problems began, though, when I married my first husband. We married in 1992, so I’d been Christian ~15 years by that time. About a year after we married, he began to buy into the Duggar-esque “the man is the head of the household and the woman must be submissive” bullshit. Thankfully, he didn’t want to have two dozen kids, at least. It was bad enough, from my point of view, that he wanted a wife who did what she was told and waited on him hand and foot, with bonus sex toy functions on demand, all in the name of the Lord. I, as a dominant female raised by very strong 60s-era feminists – as in, both my mother and father – had…hmmm, difficulty with the whole submission thing, though I did try really, really hard, much to the detriment of my mental well-being.

Secretly, though? Well, secretly, I deliberately took off my “God glasses” and began to do some extremely intense (and, notably, objective) Bible study that incorporated non-religious academic study materials along with the standard apologetic stuff. I spent hours at the library (since the interwebs were in their infancy at the time *laugh*) researching and studying because I refused to accept the notion that the God whom I loved and who I knew I loved me really just wanted me to be chattel, not much different from the livestock that people also weren’t supposed to covet. I was confident that this could not really be the case, and the lawyers’ kid in me wanted to be able to present a solid, well-argued, airtight case to my husband (and to the church as a whole) that would make him see that he was wrong about what God wanted, and then everything would be just fine.

Of course, my husband wasn’t wrong, as it turned out, and thus began my disillusion. I started studying other topics that nagged at my conscience in the same way and…Well, as they say, the easiest way to become an atheist is to be a Christian and objectively read the Bible. (There’s a reason that laypeople reading the Bible is discouraged, if not outright disallowed, in the Catholic church.) So, from the early 90s on, I began a long, slow slide down the slippery slope to apostasy. I didn’t recognize that that was what it was, of course. I thought I was discovering the “real Christianity” that all the people in the church pews, with dogma up to their eyeballs, were missing. Turns out, what I was really discovering was…Well, not to put too fine a point on it or anything, that the Bible is BS and so is Christianity in general. And, after expanding my self-education to include other theistic religions, thinking that maybe one of them was right, that, alas, there is not a single sliver of evidence for any god. I could no longer in good conscience believe in any god, not unless/until I had evidence of he/she/it/them. Which, to date, I do not have. (And frankly, if one day I do have evidence of Yahweh’s existence, at least, and if he is what he says he is in the Bible, then I will no longer be an atheist, but I will deem Yahweh unworthy of worship. I’ll be spitting “How dare you?!” at him, all Stephen Fry-esque. I would rather burn in hell than eternally worship such an abhorrent creature.)

Anyway, by the time I was participating in threads on MTS about religion, my husband and I had divorced, and I was probably ¾ of the way down the apostasy slope. At that point, I was still calling myself a Christian but a heretical one, and until about a year ago or so I called myself a Deist because while I could no longer in good conscience call myself a Christian, even a heretical one, there were things that I clung to that I did not want to let go of. Mostly because of “personal experiences” that made me want to think there was a God of some kind. But about a year ago or so, I finally let it all go, to make a long story short, and it was an enormous weight off my shoulders. I’m now comfortable with being publicly truthful about what I am, no longer fearing the “A” word.

That being said, although I have great antipathy for Yahweh himself, I don’t hate Christians or people of any religion. Nor will I “preach atheism.” At least, not here. ;) So, if you’re a Christian or other theist, fear not. I will probably be no more or less of a godless heathen on this particular blog than I have been before. I am, however, considering making an atheist-themed personal sideblog or something, which I would use to occasionally wax anti-apologetic and whatnot. In general, I think it’s important for American atheists, especially, to be “out” if they can be, because America is highly religious, particularly in certain areas, and people who are not with that program need community, especially if they’ve been ostracized by friends/family over their lack of belief. Not to mention the creeping fingers of Christian dominionism in our current government, with things like “religious freedom” bills and the Congressional “Freedom Caucus” and Project Blitz and such, all of which needs to be fought tooth and nail. But…I don’t know that I have the energy for another blog. We’ll see, I guess.

Oh! One last thing. Yes, I did indeed keep my marriage vows post-divorce. Christianity aside, I take serious vows…well, seriously. :) So, although we divorced, I did not sleep with anyone else until my first husband died. I almost didn’t even date anyone else, though current husband and I started dating about 4 months before my first husband died of pancreatic cancer, which at least was after I knew he was terminal and in hospice care. So, yeah, I was celibate for ~17 years. Call me weird, if you wish, but…Well, I take vows seriously. It’s just how I am.

#replies #Anonymous #non sims

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peanutsandbitterstep · 4 years

Text

Compass Heading

Summary: A GBF Soulmate AU. Everyone has arrows on their body that point them to their soulmates. Nehan has one on each arm.

The first moment of clarity in months and it comes from curing the sickness of a fellow slave. The precise measurements of ingredients, combined into medicine that would break a fever. The Magasin are more than pleased that they’ll be getting more value out of him than they paid for.

“This is the one you were talking about?” the Chief Pharmaceutical Officer asks, hand on one hip, surveying Nehan.

“You said you could use all the help you could get,” his master says. “He doesn’t look it, but he’s got a brain in there.”

“Hn. Well, some of the others are going out for supplies. Have him join them. He can’t get into too much trouble like that.”

With a wave of dismissal, the chief gets back to work.

Nehan is sent out with an overseer and some other members of the pharmaceutical team. He doesn’t resent the change in duties. Focusing on remembering plant shapes and habitats means that his mind doesn’t have space to dwell on images of blood and decaying bodies.

He practically becomes part of the medical division and formally does once the epidemic passes.

“You’re turning out more useful than we thought. Keep this up and maybe you’ll actually be something,” his master says.

The promotion would be beneficial, but it’s still the clarity that he chases, until he no longer needs to be actively focused on work to keep the memories at bay. And without the memories comes a lack of feeling that persists, even when he poisons someone and watches him die.

It’s not the death that’s notable or even the killing. He’s seen and done plenty of that already. But this was less of a professional hit and more of along the lines of experimentation of a new poison. The death is messy and drawn out over the course of a few hours, but he can’t muster up anything other than intellectual curiosity.

“Looks like we’ll need to get back to the drawing board,” the chief says, once it’s all over. “Good work everyone.”

A candy is passed to each of them as they file out of the room.

“For me?” Nehan questions, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

“Of course. You’re part of the family too,” the chief says casually, as a few associates trail in to deal with the body.

Family.

The word digs under his skin and sticks, like a splinter he’d once had to spend fifteen minutes locating and pulling out. He sneaks out that night and holds his arm up against the sky, studying how the arrow lines up with the constellations. It’s the first time he’s been able to look at it since the day he’d lost his home.

There are people with nowhere else to go, there in the Magasin. Fellow slaves who make the family their home, and even find their soulmate among the others.

Nehan’s home may be gone, but there’s still one family member he has left.

At the moment, the arrow on his right arm points northeast. Toward another island, maybe even another skydom.

Sudden rage bubbles up from his chest, to his throat, and he wants to shout, ‘Come on! You know how to find me. Come and try to finish me off like you did everyone else!’

He has no illusions about overpowering Xing. The prodigy, hope of the Karm Clan. But he’s gotten better at firing a gun and has enough knowledge about poisons that they could at least go down together.

But Xing doesn’t come. Instead, a guard comes to check on him and make sure he isn’t trying anything stupid.

Some of the others might not know where they came from, but not him. Nehan knows who his family is and why they’re no longer with him.

‘I’m going to see you again,’ he thinks. ‘And when I do, I’ll be ready.’

Years pass and he learns as much as he can. Medicine and drugs, how to coax a sickened organ back to health as well as shut it down. His memory does not fail and his emotions stay out of the way. The family places more and more trust in him and he becomes busier with all the extra responsibilities.

Responsibilities that include research for the drug they’re developing, titled Project Serenity. If they get this right, they’ll get enough power to retake their territories.

Which brings him to the island.

“Nehan!”

“Hello, Mugen. How have you been?”

The lone inhabitant of the island had not been much help when it came to research. As it turns out, someone who can’t be poisoned doesn’t need to consider anything except taste when it comes to ingesting plants. There are other reasons to let him tag along, though.

Mugen tells him about all the changes that have happened since he was away (it rained and he caught a frog), and Nehan tells a heavily edited version of his most recent trip to Auguste.

He’s struggling to convey the idea of a sea when he hears the growl of a timber wolf. Right hand reaching for his gun, he searches the direction it came from.

It’s Mugen who reacts first, punching the first wolf that leaps at him. Nehan picks off two more. Out of the corner of his eye, there’s a blur and he moves just enough that the wolf’s teeth close on his jacket sleeve instead of his right forearm.

He’s aware of Mugen shouting his name, but he’s too busy gutting the monster to respond. It’s silent when he looks up again. Mugen must have taken care of the rest of the pack.

A shadow looms over him and he flinches, raising his gun. It’s only Mugen though, concern on his face as he reaches out.

“I’m all right,” Nehan says, showing Mugen his torn sleeve and unmarked skin. “See? No blood.”

Mugen studies Nehan’s arm, carefully holding back his strength as he turns it over. “Nehan have too.”

“What?” Following his gaze, Nehan sees what he’s referring to. “Oh, the soulmate arrow.”

“Soul...mate?”

“A soulmate is…a person whose life is intertwined with yours.” Scrambling to explain the concept more simply, Nehan says, “It’s two people who are very important to each other. The arrow shows where the other person is.”

“Like Nehan?” Mugen holds out his left arm and, sure enough, the arrow is pointing directly at Nehan.

Swallowing, Nehan says, “No, not like me. Look, my arrow doesn’t point to you.”

What he leaves out is that it would be the arrow on his left arm that would determine whether he and Mugen are soulmates. He hasn’t checked that arrow in a long time and he isn’t going to check now.

He doesn’t want Mugen to get tangled up in his problems.

Pulling his arm out of Mugen’s hold and stepping back, he says, “I’m sure whoever your soulmate is will be a wonderful person.”

“Nehan wonderful,” Mugen insists and Nehan laughs before he can stop himself.

“Thank you for saying so. We should keep going.”

This idiot. If the Magasin or any of the other families were to find out about him, this child with an adult body and inborn power lurking right under his skin was just going to be used. Like Xing.

Time hasn’t tempered his rage or desire for vengeance, but it has given him perspective. The Karm Clan had reaped what they sowed. Their fate had been to die at the hands of their own weapon, to pay for their crimes with their lives in the most ironic way.

And maybe that’s why Nehan is still alive. There are more than enough people who hold a grudge against him, more than enough who would deserve to take revenge.

Perhaps they will. But not before Nehan makes Xing answer for his crimes.

Another two years and Serenity Heaven is created and distributed, repositioning the Magasin in the crime world. With Nehan’s work and the Chief Pharmaceutical Officer’s death, Nehan’s position as the successor is cemented.

The most authority he will ever have. And he needs to act now because the Magasin is falling.

Alliances between the other families and poorly thought out strategies, including but not limited to his former master killing his soulmate in a feat of remarkable cunning and absolute stupidity.

Amazing how soulmates in rival families tended to bring out both the best and worst in each other. He’d seen soulmates provoke each other to anger with a meaningful look or well-placed word, as well as inspire the acquirement of new skills.

“That bastard knew what he was doing when he bought the restaurant!” his former master had ranted. “He did it just to spite me!”

And he was probably right. Because they were equally petty and had a tendency to modify their business dealings so the other person’s job would be more difficult. But with him dead, his family had made taking down the Magasin their biggest priority, and Nehan wasn’t going to wait for everything to collapse.

He supposes he shouldn’t be so critical. After all, his plans are going to upend the entire skydom.

Because Xing, as it turns out, is an Eternal. Seox, as he calls himself now. Surrounded by the most powerful skyfarers, armed with talents that he has honed to perfection.

He could have found Nehan anytime he wanted, but he hadn’t. Does he think he can run from fate?

Some people think fate is something that can be defied, but look. Here Nehan is, without his clan or home, but there’s still a mask still on his face, he has poison in one pocket, and Trancensia is in the other. It was always going to turn out like this.

The moon is just beginning to rise as he walks toward the port. He has a promise to keep to Mugen and then he’s headed to the Enforcers. He’s done waiting for someone who clearly isn’t coming. The stars will show him where he is and his arrows will guide him to where he needs to be. And then all of this will be over.

A/N: Thanks to my friend who proofread this and my other friends who listened to me complain! I hope you enjoyed reading this.

#rambling #granblue fantasy #gbf

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raendown · 6 years

Link

Pairing: TobiramaIzuna Word count: 2456 Soulmate au: The one where you must ask if they are your soulmate and their answer will always be honest

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI

Chapter 146: Tobirama/Izuna

“Did you ever think about asking someone that, like, you would never expect is the right one?”

“No.” Tobirama tilted his head out from behind the shelf to lift an eyebrow at the man his brother was forcing his to work with. “If I didn’t think they were a correct match for me then I didn’t see the point in wasting my breath to ask them the question.”

Izuna wrinkled his nose with irritation. “Well you never know, do you? Like, Aniki really didn’t think it would be your oaf of a brother that was matched to him but look at them now. Disgusting but happy.”

“I want to be offended and say don’t call my brother an oaf but…”

“But he is an oaf.”

“You are unfortunately correct.” Tobirama paused, giving some thought to say more, then shook his head and went back to rooting through the archive shelves.

If it were anyone else here with him he might have written off the short conversation as insignificant, entirely forgettable, but this was Izuna. He was fairly sure that was the closest thing to a normal conversation they’d been able to have in months. Certainly it was the first question his soulmate had asked him that wasn’t couched in a sharp tone or followed by an insult.

To say they didn’t really get along would be to misinterpret things, however. It wasn’t that they couldn’t stand each other. Rather he would have said that they simply didn’t know how to handle each other. Madara and Hashirama had been able to put aside a lifetime of enmity as easily as yesterday’s clothing but they had something no one else did in either clan: they’d had the chance to get to know each other as innocents before the generations-long war came between them.

For Tobirama and Izuna things were different. Things were much more complicated. No friendship had ever existed between them in the past or present, nothing but rivalry and hatred until the day they discovered the connection between them quite by accident. If not for Izuna mockingly asking him the question they likely never would have known.

“Does your brother really think we’re going to get along better if he makes us work on drafting this stupid by-law together?”

“Hashirama like to imagine that there is good in everyone,” Tobirama said, not lifting his eyes from the boring text he was now perusing. “Even where there clearly is none.”

“Was that a fucking crack at me?”

“If you choose to see it as one.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He didn’t bother to watch Izuna storm out of the room, most likely to go beg himself off of this project. As soon as he was alone Tobirama closed his eyes and forced himself do nothing more than breathe slowly for a few moments, trying to calm his racing heart.

Knowing that his brother meant well did nothing to detract from his urge to commit violence against the idiot. More than a year had passed, peace had been made, an entire village was built and half running, and still it was no less of a shock now than it had been then. He still woke some mornings and asked himself if he really was soulmates with Uchiha Izuna. It all just seemed too much like a terrible dream to be true and yet here they were, living in the same village, forced to work together, and no longer allowed to commit proper violence against each other.

Expelling these pointless thoughts with a deep sigh, Tobirama refocused his mind on the task at hand. If he was going to do this project entirely by himself then he should probably get to work.

“I didn’t even want a soulmate.”

Clutching his dish of sake tighter, Izuna made sure his expression did not shift an inch. No way in hell would he ever let Tobirama know just how hard those word had hit him. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about their match either but to know that his soulmate hadn’t wanted him even before they knew each other’s identity? To know that he would never had stood a chance of being wanted ever if they hadn’t been at war? His teeth ground together and the nails of his free hand dug in to his palm as he strove to appear unaffected.

“Well, lucky for you then,” he spat. Then he turned and walked away without another word, leaving Tobirama blinking after him owlishly.

“That was unkind,” Hashirama murmured to his brother. “How much have you had to drink?”

“It was not untrue. And this is precisely why.” Tossing back his seventh dish of sake, Tobirama huffed and waved vaguely at the spot Izuna had just vacated. “I never wanted to put myself through this. Better to know from the womb that I will be alone than to have my hopes dashed so…so…completely.”

“Um…maybe you should think about explaining that part to Izuna?”

Tobirama shrugged. “I was going to but he left. Prick.”

He protested quite loudly when Hashirama took away the rest of his sake, quieting only when he was firmly told to go home for the night. That was nice. He’d been wanting to go home since the moment he arrived here to this stupid ‘office party’ as Hashirama had called it. Getting lectured on his way out the door was worth it to be allowed to go home and finish his evening in the quiet of his own room, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if he would have been any happier to have anyone else turn out to be his soulmate.

“You want us to what?”

“To spar!” Hashirama beamed and Izuna narrowed his eyes to stare harder.

“Is that the best idea? Really? Not that I’m opposed to being given permission to break his bones.” He gave a careless shrug. “But I think my brother will be angry with you when your brother automatically goes for blood.”

“Oh, he won’t do that. Come on! It’ll be a good way for you two to get out all that extra energy!”

After a quick check to make sure that, yes, their Hokage really had just said that, Izuna gave in with a roll of his eyes. How anyone could refer to the aggression between them as a bit of extra energy was beyond him but at least this stupid plan had a silver lining.

“If he tries to kill me I’m not going to feel guilty defending myself in kind,” he warned.

Hashirama laughed, clearly thinking he was joking, and Izuna didn’t bother to correct that assumption. Just let them try to charge him with murder. He hadn’t wanted this situation he’d found himself in but he was not above taking the easy way out of it should the option present itself.

Since birth he had been training to fight Tobirama, to end his existence and triumph over his bloody corpse. Izuna wasn’t sure he had it in him to change courses the way the rest of the world seem to want them to.

“Calling a tie just feels unsatisfactory.”

“I almost had you at the end.”

“Please, you’re as exhausted as I am. Besides, if I had been allowed to use my hiraishin you would have been dead a dozen times over hours ago.”

“You fucking wish.”

Several minutes of silence passed as the two of them lay stretched out on their backs in the grass, neither able to move even just to lift an arm or leg. Hashirama had been right about one thing; they certainly had used up a lot of energy. In the end, however, neither one of them had been able to best the other in any significant sort of way and neither had been willing to call the match to a close until they had collapsed almost side by side, unable to go on.

A rather annoying voice in the back of his head murmured that they were, if nothing else, perfectly matched in this respect. It sparked the tiniest flame of curiosity for whether they were well matched in other things but Izuna was quick to smother that little flicker. He could care less.

“I think am tired of death.” Tobirama spoke quietly and without warning but while Izuna was still wracking his brain for some kind of a response to that he was struggling to his feet and slowly limping away.

Izuna was left there alone to lay on the training field and wonder what the hell that was supposed to mean.

“So, what, we’re regressing back to childhood now?”

“Izuna, please.” Where he was used to seeing nothing but blank arrogance or varying degrees of anger, Tobirama looked nothing more than tired now as he rubbed harshly at the bridge of his nose. “If you have a better solution then I am willing to hear it out but…clearly the universe has made some sort of mistake.”

“Oh I’m a mistake am I? Look, I know you didn’t want any soulmate but you got me so fucking deal with it like an adult. Pretending I don’t exist is not dealing with it.” Izuna crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall moodily.

It wasn’t like he wanted Tobirama any more than the other man wanted him but it still galled to know Tobirama was just giving up like this. Wasn’t he supposed to be the boneheaded one who never let an idea go once he sunk his claws in to it? This was the same stubborn ass who gave the same lecture in every council meeting for six months until finally the rest of them caved and agreed to consider the idea of a ranking system for the missions given out.

For him to announce out of the blue that it would be best if they no longer spoke outside of necessary work contact felt…oddly painful. Like being rejected in a contest he hadn’t wanted to win anyway and yet somehow got invested in without noticing. Tobirama was infamous for his stubbornness. And here he was giving up on Izuna so easily.

A ridiculous statement. Izuna had known from the start that neither of them wanted each other. It was their brothers shoving them together, crying peace and patience. Why should it make a difference now that he was finally getting what he’d thought he wanted all along?

“This is the logical course of action,” Tobirama said, eyes focused somewhere over Izuna’s shoulder. “We both know that we will never be able to set aside our past. If we know that we are doomed to fail then what is the point of trying? The most logical thing to do would be to simply go our separate ways. You live your life and I will live mine. I will speak to Hashirama about this ridiculous notion that he can make us ‘see reason’ where there is no reason to see.”

“You know what? Fuck your reason and fuck your logic.” He couldn’t have said why but Izuna had never been more angry – more insulted – in all his life.

“I thought you would agree–”

“Well I don’t!” Pushing off the wall, he stormed over to invade Tobirama’s personal space, pushing himself up on to the balls of his feet so they were nose to nose. “You don’t get to give up on me as easy as that! Fuck your stupid ‘logical conclusions’ or whatever. I could be an amazing soulmate. You know what? I will. I’m gonna be the best god damn soulmate you could ever fucking hope for. So there!”

Glaring at the other man from so close, he didn’t have time to see Tobirama coming let alone decide how to react. One second he was full of righteous anger and the next he was back up against the wall with six feet of albino muscle devouring him, burning him up from the inside out.

The first thing he registered was the heat ripping through his veins. The second thing he noticed were his fingers, clenched around fistfuls of startlingly soft white hair with no memory of having moved them. His eyes snapped open when it finally registered that they were kissing, frantic and heated and with more passion than they had ever fought each other with. Stupidly, the thing his scattered attention chose to latch on to was the way Tobirama looked oddly relaxed, no stress lines around his eyes for once in his life, and that it was sort of maybe just a little bit perhaps attractive.

Kind of.

Somehow even more surprising than the kiss itself was that Tobirama was the one to end it by reeling backwards, one hand clapped over his mouth and both eyes wide with shock. The two of them stared at each other wordlessly until Tobirama turned and for possibly the first time in his life he fled a battle before it could be fought, flickering away with that stupid jutsu of his.

Izuna licked his lips absently. For all the hatred between them he should have tasted blood. All his tongue found was a hint of green tea and a strange craving for more.

“May I ask you a question?”

Izuna turned away from the window and offered the Hokage an innocent smile. “Of course.”

“Why is my brother so afraid of you lately?” By the suspicious look on Hashirama’s face it was clear that he thought Izuna was at fault for whatever had happened.

“Not a clue,” Izuna lied easily. “Really I think he’s more afraid of himself than he is of me.”

“Oh. Huh. That’s weird.”

“Yes, absolutely ridiculous. He should absolutely be more afraid of me.” Izuna grinned wider at Hashirama’s look of confused consternation, amused to know that the one time he did not mean that in a violent way was the one time he was finally taken seriously.

He did mean it though, if not in the way Hashirama had taken it. Tobirama was not the only stubborn person in this village. Izuna had made a declaration to be the best soulmate ever and he very much intended to follow through with it – just as he very much intended not to examine his own reasons for doing so. For now he would focus on this new method he had discovered of torturing his errant ‘other half’. Heavy introspection about why he was suddenly so set on being a good soulmate and pinning Tobirama down for more kisses could be put off until later. Much later. Perhaps never.

What did he care for the why when he could make Tobirama blush and run with just one look? This promised to be very entertaining.

#rae writes #soulmate collection #tobiizu #izutobi #tobirama #izuna #hashirama #fanfiction

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porkchop-ao3 · 7 years

Note

Hii prokchop, I have been thinking about requesting this for a while (Ur rick is my absolute fav) Rick and his girl have an argument, he is not in the right and he's all angry with everyone and everything. And then he goes to pick up reader at university and shes with her friends or something and they make up nsfw? Idk just want to see Rick as boyfriend material-grandpa trying to understand his younger gf

Why is it whenever I tell myself ‘okay THIS one will be a short one’ I end up writing 6k words?? Sigh. I think I’m incapable of keeping things brief…

Anyway, thank you for this anon! As someone who’s at uni, I could really emerse myself in this request, I hope you like it!

Contains throat fucking and sex with the parents in the house, how exciting!

Enjoy x

“… No. No, nononono…” I whispered, frantically searching my laptop, scanning through every folder.

“Hmm?” Rick questioned disinterestedly, sketching away at some blueprints beside me.

“No way. I haven’t just… did I really just do that?” I murmured, clutching the sides of my head, my heart rate rising along with the speed of my breaths. Panic clawed at every part of me, my blood running cold.

“What?” He turned to look at me, spinning in his office chair.

“My poster… the poster I’ve been working on all week.”

“W-what about it, did you finish it?” He asked, leaning over to stare at the blank screen of my laptop.

“Yes.” I said, then looked up at him with tears springing into my eyes. “Then I deleted it.” Rick looked at me gone-out, and I sobbed, covering my face with both hands.

“Wait, what- are you sure? Why would you-”

“I deleted the wrong fucking file!” I shouted, and smacked my palms into my face in anger, wanting to punish myself, to hit myself over and over for being so damn stupid.

“Didn’t you have back ups?” He asked, and I shook my head, wailing out in despair.

“I don’t fucking need this! I don’t fucking need it, oh God, what the fuck am I- I’m such a fucking cunt.” I yelled, smacking myself again, this time Rick grabbed my arms, pulling them away from my face. I cried freely, not caring about the state I was in as I looked at him. “This week’s been so shit as it is! This can’t be happening…”

“Relax, baby, I’m sure it’s- y-y-you can get it back from the recycling bin thing, right? I don't… I don’t use computers like this, all of mine have custom operating systems, l-let me look.” He said, turning my laptop to face him. I knew he wouldn’t find it, I’d searched everywhere.

“Nooo. No. Oh fuck. This project is due tomorrow. It’s the main piece to the whole fucking thing, I don’t have time to make it again!” I cried, wiping the snot and tears from my face, feeling everything crash and burn around me. The past couple of weeks had been littered with tiny little things, little problems that had been building up and up, and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back, it was all I needed to have a full blown melt-down.

“This is precisely why I don’t like the education system; everything is based around deadlines, it has nothing to do with what you can actually-”

“I don’t care why you don’t like the education system!” I yelled. “I’m fucked, Rick! Absolutely fucking fucked!” Rick frowned at me, clearly pissed off by my outburst.

“Fuck you, then.” He said, pushing my laptop away and turning back to his blueprints. Something snapped in me, I dug my fingernails into my palms, feeling the anger bubble inside me, stewing and only getting worse the longer I stayed still. I slammed my laptop screen down and stuffed it inside my bag, kicking my chair out of the way as I stormed towards the garage door. “Go on, run away and sulk like a little girl.” Rick said, not even turning to look at me.

“Excuse me?” I asked, turning on my heel to stare daggers at the back of his head.

“I’m just saying; I could help you get it back, but… l-looks like you’d prefer to throw a tantrum, have a cry and feel sorry for yourself.”

“You could help me?” I squeaked, and Rick shrugged.

“Depends, are you gonna stop acting like your shoe size? Y-you know, some people have real problems. Like paying for a mortgage, putting food on the table.”

“What the fuck, Rick? What is this? Don’t make light of my issues, you have no idea what’s going on in my head.”

“What, nobody liked your profile picture?” He said, and I ignored his patronisation.

“I’ve been thinking of dropping out.” I admitted, looking down at the floor. Rick turned around to look at me at this, a look of surprise on his face.

“Really?” He asked, and I nodded. “Thank God.” He snorted. I frowned at him.

“Is that it? You’re not going to ask me why, or offer some support?”

“Why would I try to stop you? Y-you know I hate University. It’s just a place where rich, stuck up idiots go to pay other rich, stuck up idiots for a piece of paper that says they’re smart. But if they were really smart, they wouldn’t need to be at University.” He explained, waving his hand around as he spoke.

“I’m there for art. To have access to facilities I wouldn’t otherwise have, to learn new techniques and gain knowledge about the industry. Not because I think it’ll automatically make me smart.”

“Oh yeah, art. No offense, but that’s even worse. Have fun working at grocery stores for the rest of your life; maybe you’ll make it to management. Then you might have an office to hang your degree on the wall in.”

“Thank you.” I said, feeling more tears spring to my eyes. “For backing up my biggest fucking fears, Rick. That’s exactly what has been playing on my mind for months. I don't… I don’t know if I’ll even be able to get a job after this. I don’t know if I’m good enough, if anyone will want to employ me. I don’t know if I have the confidence to even put myself out there, I’m such an anxious wreck. And all this time I’m acutely aware of all the debt I’m putting myself in, owing thousands before I’ve even moved out of my parents’ house. So yeah, I’ve been considering jacking it all in. Getting that minimum wage job and skipping the middleman.” I admitted to him, scrubbing the wetness from my face as I did. Rick watched me with an unreadable expression, his lips parted just slightly.

“Th-that was… that was a joke, by the way.” He said, his voice uncharacteristically small. “I don’t really think-”

“Whatever. It’s not a joke to me, it’s very real.” I sniffed, cursing the tears still flowing freely from my eyes. Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop before it was all out. “Art… it means everything to me. It’s all I’ve ever been any good at, and if it doesn’t work out… I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have no other qualifications, really, I have all my eggs in one basket, and I’m fucking terrified, Rick.”

Rick moved to get up, but I held my hand up to him. “Sweetie?” He said.

“I’m going back to my dorm. I need to sleep; I’m so fucking tired. I’m just… I’m done.” I shook my head.

“Wait, you want me to drive you?” He asked, this time getting up despite my disapproval.

“No, thank you. I wanna be alone, the drive will give me time to calm down.”

“Alright… uhhh, you’re still going home to see your parents tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.” I sighed, the thought of it only making me feel worse.

“Okay. I’m still going to drive you back, okay? Wh-whether you wanna see me or not. It’s a long way, it’ll be half the time in my ship.” He insisted. I nodded.

“Hand in is at two, so… any time after that really. I’ll wait in the courtyard outside the photography studios, you know the place?” I mumbled monotonously, and Rick nodded his head. Call me crazy, but he seemed to look guilty. I took a shaky breath as he opened up the large garage door for me; and I was grateful that I didn’t have to walk through the house and risk bumping into the family looking like a mess. “See you tomorrow, then.”

I slept through from the moment I got back till midday; I hadn’t bothered setting an alarm. What was the point? I knew I wouldn’t be able to remake the poster, I’d probably fail the module, so why bother getting up early? I crawled out of bed and walked into my room’s ensuite bathroom and washed my face with cold water, rinsing off yesterday’s makeup that had run down my cheeks. I hadn’t washed it off the night before; I hadn’t had the energy. I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth, dressing in something comfy for the long trip home.

I walked over to where my portfolio sat, and took a moment to organise everything before zipping it back up. I figured I’d leave now and hand in my work early, then I could grab something to eat before Rick arrived to pick me up. I glanced over at where my laptop bag sat on my desk; untouched since I’d walked through the door and dumped it down. I knew I should probably email my tutors to explain what had happened, maybe they’d go easy on me… probably not. But I wasn’t one to hand in unfinished work without an explanation, no matter how shitty that explanation might be. I wandered over to it, frowning as I noticed something sitting on top of it. It was a note and a USB stick.

There’s a bunch of dimensions where you didn’t delete your poster. I broke into your dorm room in one of them and got it back for you. I scared the shit out of her and I think she called the cops, but at least you can hand it in now.

Rick.

PS. This sounds like something you’d worry about; but it’s not plagiarism. Technically, you did the work, right? Just hand it in, I know what you’re like.

I lifted the USB and stared it with a slack jaw. I jumped into action, pulling out my laptop and switching it on, plugging in the USB and pulling up the single file inside. There it was, the finished poster; indistinguishable from the one I’d produced. I slumped in relief, slapping a hand over my heart. I sent it to the campus printers, figuring I’d stop by and pick it up on the way over to the studios. With that, I was out the door.

Once everything was handed in, I stopped by the food truck that practically lived at the side of the road outside the student accommodation area, and grabbed a coffee and a cheeseburger. I headed over to the courtyard with my luggage, taking a seat on one of the benches so I could eat my breakfast… well, lunch. A girl from my course spotted me and headed over with a beaming smile on her face.

“Feels good to be free, huh?” She asked once she’d reached me.

“Until next semester.” I smirked.

“You get everything done?” She asked, and I nodded as I swallowed a mouthful of food.

“Just. Though, I would’ve been fucked if it weren’t for my boyfriend. I deleted my final piece by accident, he’s smart and… he got it back for me.” I said, finishing off the last of my burger.

“How do you delete the main part of your project?” She laughed, taking a seat beside me.

“Sleep deprivation and not thinking about what I’m doing.” I explained. She nodded in understanding.

“You haven’t mentioned a boyfriend before, anyone I know?” She asked, and I shook my head.

“He isn’t at University. He's… he’s a little older than me.” I told her.

“You been seeing him long?”

“A few months.” I said, and she nodded. I felt a churning in my stomach when I thought of him, remembered everything he’d said last night, how hopeless he’d made me feel.

“You okay?” My friend asked, and I shrugged.

“I don’t know. We fought last night. I think helping me get my work back was his way of trying to move on from it. He does that; does something to try and make me forget about it, never actually apologises.”

“Leaves you to stew over it as he pretends like nothing happened?” She assumed, a knowing smile on her face. I nodded. “Yeah, don’t let him get into the habit of that. It’ll only make you feel worse; some things just need addressing so you can get over it, you know?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I nodded, movement in the parking lot distracting me; Rick was pulling up. “I need to go. Thanks for your advice though, I’ll talk to him.” I smiled.

“You’re going home already? Me and a bunch of the other art kids were gonna go out drinking tonight.” She said disappointedly. I cringed on the inside at the idea, secretly glad that I was going home instead.

“Aww, I wish I could come… but my family are expecting me.” I said, glancing over at where Rick had climbed out of his ship and was glancing around for me. I gave him a wave, capturing his attention. He waved back, but didn’t approach, and if I knew him, it was because he didn’t want to have to speak to the person I was with.

“Who is that, your grandpa?” She asked, squinting at Rick in the distance. I laughed to myself, and shook my head.

“No. That’s Rick. And if he plays his cards right, he might still be my boyfriend.” I told her, and she spun around to gape at me in horror.

“No way. You can’t be serious, (y/n). He’s like, ninety.” She said, looking at me with an expression that could only be described as pitiful, as if she felt sorry for me. I rolled my eyes.

“Seventy, actually. But it’s not like that matters, he acts like a five year old most of the time, anyways.” I shrugged, gathering my things.

“Woah, I know you said he was older but I thought you meant like… thirty.” She snorted.

“I don’t see why it’s a big deal to you. He’s far more interesting than any of the basic fuck boys that this campus seems to be teeming with.” I told her, throwing my bag over my shoulder and standing up.

“Yeah but… Jesus. Does he throw his back out every time he fucks you? Does… Does dust come out when he cums?” She snickered, and I watched her laugh for a good few moments before I decided she wasn’t worth anymore of my time. I was probably having far better sex than she was, anyway.

“Whatever, fuck you.” I sighed, turning and heading towards Rick, I heard her call out an apology through fits of giggles, but I kept walking.

When I was close, Rick opened up the passenger door for me. He moved in, going for a kiss, but I ducked him and climbed straight into his car; thanking him curtly. He stood staring at me blankly, then slammed my door and walked around to the drivers side, getting in and looking over at me.

“Hey.” He said, but it sounded more like a question than a greeting.

“Hi.” I replied, looking straight ahead.

“You, uh… everything cool?” He asked, and I turned to raise a brow at him wordlessly. “Oh. I gue-guess not.” He grumbled, starting up the car and driving away from the University. “Still want me to drop you off at your parents’ house?” He asked me.

“If it’s no bother.” I answered, and he nodded.

“N-no bother.” He agreed. He was taking peeks at me as he drove, as if he wanted to say something but kept deciding against it. When he finally did speak, he sounded exasperated. “Look, I know you’re mad about last night.”

“Oh? Why would that be?” I asked sarcastically, and Rick sighed.

“B-because I belittled you. I came for everything that means something to you, and it was fucked up.” He admitted, and I was surprised by his honesty. I turned to look at him, my expression soft. “I know I’m an asshole, (y/n).”

“Not always.” I said meekly, and Rick chewed on his bottom lip for a while.

“Sometimes I-I forget that there’s such a huge age gap… I forget that you’re only young an-and still have ambition and dreams and all that crap, the world hasn’t sucked all the light out of you just yet. And I realised that me saying shit like I did yesterday, i-it’s only speeding up that process.” He explained, and I frowned.

“What, so you’re saying one day I’ll be joyless and dead inside?” I asked.

“Probably.” He shrugged. “That’s just the way the world works; it’s a grindstone, wearing everybody down until there’s nothing left to feel good about.”

“I don’t believe that.” I said, and Rick nodded.

“Well, that’s good. Keep holding onto that for as long as you can.”

“This is depressing.” I mumbled, looking down at my hands.

“I was intending to motivate you, but uh… but yeah, it seems to just be depressing at this point, you’re right.” He said, glancing over at me with sheepish smile.

“How is this supposed to motivate me?” I scoffed.

“Well, I said some shitty stuff. Stuff that wasn’t true; at least it won’t be, if you completely ignore everything I said.” He told me, and I thought back to last night’s argument, replaying the moment that cut me the deepest; that I was wasting my time and I’d end up working in a grocery store if I kept it up. “You’re an extremely driven young woman. I-I-I can see that, you work your ass off for everything, you want something and you make it happen. So if you wanna make a career for yourself, doing what you enjoy, then you’ll get there.”

“Thank you.” I whispered.

“It pains me to say it, but you shouldn’t drop out. You’ve worked hard to get where you are, it’d be a waste for you to call it quits now.” He said, and I smiled.

“I’m not going to drop out, I don’t think I ever really was.” I admitted.

“I didn’t think so.” He glanced over at me and smiled back. “You aren’t a quitter.”

“I owe you big time, by the way. You totally saved my ass.” I said, reaching over to place my hand on his thigh.

“Don’t mention it, you think I was j-just gonna let you fail after how hard you’d worked? Knowing that I could do something about it?” He asked rhetorically, and I leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, Rick.” I said, and he cleared his throat casually. I knew he didn’t deal well with these kinds of things, so I let it drop.

“Am I gonna see you this week?” He asked me, and I groaned, leaning my head back against the seat.

“Not during the daytime.” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked.

“Well, my parents tell me they have something planned for every day I’m there. Basically, I can kiss goodbye to a nice relaxing week off.” I explained, then stroked my hand up and down his thigh. “But I can get away with going to bed at ten without arousing suspicion, so if you wanna see me…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

“Are you suggesting that I-I should sneak into your bedroom like a teenager?” He asked, and I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally. “Cause I’m down for that.” He added with a smirk. “You uh, you want me to come over and fuck you with your parents downstairs? You be-better keep quiet, sweetie, unless you wanna get us caught.”

“I can keep quiet,” I nodded. “can you?”

“Sweetie, I live with my daughter and grandkids, I’ve fucked pe-people in the living room without them hearing me.”

“How come you’ve never fucked me in your living room?” I asked in mock offense.

“Cause you howl like a banshee when I hit it just right, you’d give us away easily.” He shrugged, and I dug my fingertips into his thigh and narrowed my eyes. He groaned through a chuckle, licking his lips.

“Be there at ten, and I’ll show you.”

“Ten? You really want me to wait that long?” He laughed, and I glanced down at the growing bulge in his pants.

“Fine. I’ll say I’m going for a nap as soon as I get in, we can do it broad daylight.” I shrugged, and Rick groaned again, glancing over at me.

“Y-yeah, alright. Twice the risk, twice the fun.” He said, and I had to agree.

We made the rest of the journey in mostly silence, and I was simmering in my arousal the whole way at the promise of what was to come. My panties felt damp, and I squeezed my thighs together in a bid to get some relief, though it did little. I slid my hand farther up Rick’s thigh, brushing my fingers against the hardness I felt between his legs. I shuddered, imagining how he was going to feel inside me; wondering whether he was going to fuck me hard, like usual, or be a little more gentle to keep the noise down. I shifted my hand to cup him, giving his cock a squeeze, gaining a soft sigh from him. I let go shortly after, though, not wanting to distract him from driving and risk not getting home at all.

When we arrived at my home, Rick landed his ship on the driveway and climbed out when I did. He walked around to my side, helping me get my luggage out before turning to look at me; his eyes were clearly filled with arousal.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to portal into your room and fuck that sweet, tight pussy of yours. Feel your legs around my waist as I gag you with your own panties to stop you from making a sound. Would you like that?” He purred, backing me up against the side of his ship. My legs felt weak underneath me, and I felt positively desperate. Rick’s eyes flickered up to something behind me, and he chuckled. “We’re being watched. Your m-mother is at the window.” He told me, and I rolled my eyes.

“Ignore her.” I said, and Rick pushed forwards to capture my lips in a hungry, heated kiss. He rolled his hips, grinding his erection into my core, coaxing a whimper from me.

“Shall I say hi to the folks?” He asked, an amused smirk plastered on his face. He knew the answer to that. My parents weren’t exactly thrilled with me dating a seventy year old, and Rick seemed to revel in that fact, almost seeming to get off on it.

“The less you anger them, the more quickly I can escape to my room.” I told him, and he moaned, kissing me once more.

“Alright, baby. I’ll park a couple streets away, then I’m coming for you.” He whispered. I nodded, butterflies filling my stomach at the anticipation. I picked up my bag and headed towards the house, taking one last glance at Rick as he climbed back into his ship.

My parents, of course, showered me in questions when I turned up. Why didn’t I drive myself? Why am I still with that old creep? Is he just using me? Is he rich, and if so is that why I’m with him? I dodged every question, making a show of looking at them with drooping eyelids. Finally, I rubbed at my eyes and apologised profusely, explaining how much this semester had wiped me out and that I was desperate for a lie down. Thankfully, they let me go, and I plodded upstairs, dragging my bag with me. Once I was out of sight, I raced to my room, whipping off my sweater and baggy sweatpants, stripping out of my underwear, leaving it all in a heap on the floor before laying face down on my bed, crossing my ankles in the air behind me and resting my chin on my hand as I waited for Rick to turn up. I wasn’t waiting long, and soon a portal was opening up at the foot of the bed, and Rick stepped out, palming his cock through his pants. He looked over my naked body and smiled.

“Mm, look at you. So ready to take my cock. Good girl.” He said quietly, glancing over at my closed bedroom door. “Where are they, still downstairs?” I nodded my head and rolled over onto my back, parting my legs and rubbing my pussy as I hung my head off the edge of the bed.

“You know what I want you to do to me.” I said meaningfully, licking my lips and staring at his crotch. Rick caught on quickly and chuckled, unbuttoning his pants and dropping them to the floor. He removed his coat and shirt too, and he was just as naked as I was. He stalked towards me, closing the gap between us and reaching over to give my tits a squeeze. I used my free hand to grab is cock, giving it a few tugs before sticking my tongue out and rolling it around the head, gaining a deep, yet quite groan from Rick. When I let go of him and widened my mouth, he got the message and thrust gently into my mouth, only pushing about half of his length in at first.

“Yeah, baby. That’s my perfect angel, open wide for me, that’s it… fuck.” He whispered, rocking his hips slowly. I groaned at the sensation of him filling my mouth, going deeper with every stroke. I relaxed my throat, readying myself for him; I wanted him deeper, to feel him hit the back of my throat. “God, you’re so good for me. Letting me take what I need from you. Such a good girl, I’m gonna make you cum so hard baby, you deserve it.”

I moaned again in response, rubbing my clit faster, pushing a finger inside myself and rocking it back and forth against my g-spot. It wasn’t long before it just wasn’t enough, and a second finger was added. Rick held onto my breasts as he fucked into me faster, and I could feel his cock stretching my throat, and I breathed through my nose between thrusts, letting my eyes fall closed as his balls hit my face with how deep he was going. There was something extremely satisfying about being used in this way.

“Fuck, baby, where’d your gag reflex go? You been practicing, huh? Choking on one of your dildos while you rub that pretty pink pussy of yours?” He asked, and I moaned around his cock, hoping he’d take it as a yes. “God, that’s nice, baby. So fucking hot. Yeah, fuck yourself for me. I want you to make yourself cum with my cock in your mouth.” He growled, his tone sending a shiver through my body. He eased off a little, giving me a moment to pull in a few full breaths, then he was on me again, rougher. He fucked my mouth as if it were my pussy, letting out quiet little grunts as he did. I resisted the urge to gag and choke, relaxing and letting it happen, keeping my jaw slack.

I fucked myself fast, feeling my knuckles become drenched from my arousal as I sunk my fingers deep inside myself. I could feel myself drawing close already; the knowledge of what I was doing with my parents just downstairs becoming too much. Rick seemed to like it too, egging me on with his words, bringing me closer to climax with every word.

“I can see my cock in your throat, baby.” He told me with a satisfied smirk, reaching his hand down to cup my neck, so he could feel the bulge he made with each thrust. The lack of oxygen was making me dizzy, and only adding to the hot tingle between my legs that threatened to send me spiralling into orgasm. “Imagine if mommy and daddy walked in right now. Wonder what they’d say if they saw their precious little girl like this, you think they’d be mad?” He laughed, his hips moving quicker. His words sent shockwaves through me, and I moaned loudly around him, my eyes going unfocused as I felt myself teeter on that edge. Rick grunted rhythmically, and I could taste the head of his cock painting stripes of precum along my tongue, the flavour was the last piece of stimuli I needed, and I was cumming. I cried out around his cock, my vision dimming as my oxygen supply dwindled. Rick pulled out quickly and let go of my throat, my lungs filled with sweet, sweet oxygen and heightened the intensity of my orgasm tenfold. I bit down on my bottom lip hard in a bid to silence myself, but muffled groans still escaped.

Rick stroked his fingers through my hair as I came down, whispering words of praise to me in the softest voice he could muster. I swallowed hard around the ache in my neck, breathing heavily as I pulled my hands from myself, dropping them down against the mattress.

“Look at my pretty girl.” He cooed, running his thumbs along the sides of my face, wiping away the tears that had escaped my eyes. He bent down and gave me a kiss before walking around the bed and climbing on, kneeling between my legs. I lifted my head to watch him as he nudged the deeply flushed head of his cock against my pussy. I whined when he rubbed it against my over-sensitive clit, and he shushed me softly.

“Fuck, Rick… I need you to fuck me.” I whispered bringing my knees up to spread myself open for him, he groaned at the sight.

“I know, beautiful.” He said, stroking his hands over my thighs and shuffling closer to me on his knees. “You gotta keep quiet, remember?” He said, smirking at me before burying his dick in me real slow. I gasped and pressed my lips together, wrapping my legs around Rick’s waist when he leaned over me and kissed me, slipping his tongue into my mouth and dancing the tip against mine. He began moving slowly, easing in and out of me more gently than he had with my mouth.

“Mm, so good.” I sighed, stroking my hands up and down his spine, tightening my legs around him, anchoring him to me. He buried his face in my neck, speeding up. The bed started squeaking, so he eased off and cursed under his breath.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby. You feel so good.” He told me, and I hummed in pleasure. “God, I wish I could plow you nice and hard, fuck, I gotta install a sound proofing field in here.” He said.

“If you fuck me on the floor, we don’t have to worry about the bed making too much noise.” I suggested breathlessly, and his hips stalled. He lifted his head to look at me, then down at the floor. I giggled as Rick pulled out and got off the bed, dragging the beanbag in the corner of my room out into the open, then he curled his finger at me in a ‘come hither’ motion. I grinned and moved over to him, plopping down onto the beanbag and parting my legs for him; he wasted no time in settling back between my legs and thrusting into me, not hesitating before moving at a moderate pace. So soon after my first orgasm, my body was sensitive, every nerve ending was alight, sending pulses of pleasure right into my gut every time Rick buried himself to the hilt; I was panting in no time.

“Fuck yeah, this is better.” He breathed, his hips beginning to clap against my thighs with the force of his motions, and I dropped my head back into the soft cushiony beanbag and whimpered. He paused momentarily to grind his hips in circles, stimulating my clit and making me moan. “Hmm, you said you’d be quiet.” He teased, and I bit down on my lip.

“Just feels so fucking good.” I sighed, bucking my hips beneath him, urging him not to stop. Rick chuckled and carried on, fucking me into the beanbag with newfound force. My mouth hung open and I closed my eyes, gripping onto the edges of my beanbag. One notably rough thrust had me sobbing out a groan, and Rick covered my mouth with his hand.

“Shhh shh.” Was his response, licking his lips and staring down at my face as he kept his hand clamped over my mouth, allowing only muffled whimpers to escape me. “Unless you want mommy and daddy bursting through that door, seeing you with this big old man dick buried in your snatch. Do you, huh?” He asked in hushed tones, his own breath becoming strained. I shook my head frantically under his hand, and he smiled. “Okay, I guess w-we’re doing this then. You can breath okay, can’t you baby?” He asked, and I nodded.

Rick was relentless, taking me at a pushing pace; my eyes watered and my breath came fast and short through my nose, the risky nature of the situation was arousing me way more than I thought possible. The sounds in the room had dwindled down to heavy breathing and obscene squishing sounds as I grew embarrassingly wet. Rick grabbed my thigh, squeezing hard as he pushed it out wider so he could look down and see his cock pumping into me. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat and he paused to grind against my pubic bone again. I sobbed behind his hand, mumbling against it, trying to warn him about my incoming climax, begging him to keep going, to fuck me harder. Despite their inaudibility, Rick seemed to understand my words and continued, slamming his hips with enough force to bruise. I wailed, the sound muffled and quiet, and then I was pulsing around his cock, dizzied by the intensity of my second orgasm and feeling a flood of wetness between my thighs, bringing up more indecent sounds.

“Fuuuck, your pussy’s so good, squeezing my cock like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-” he grunted, and I mumbled frantically behind his hand, this time he lifted it away so I could speak.

“Pull out.” I told him. I knew he wouldn’t like it, but I also knew he wouldn’t deny me, and I wanted to swallow his load rather than flush it down the toilet once it was all said and done… Rick thrust two, three more times, then with a groan of my name he pulled out. I was quick to lean down, jerking his cock into my open mouth, feeling his hot load hit my tongue and drip down to my breasts, I moaned in satisfaction as I did. Rick rocked his hips as he came, grunting through clenched teeth with each wave of his orgasm.

“Ohh god, baby, that was so fucking hot, l-let me see.” He said, lifting my chin up with his hand and looking into my open mouth full of his cum. He pushed my mouth closed, and I swallowed, much to Rick’s pleasure. “Good girl.” He whispered, petting my hair.

“Mmh, thank you.” I sighed, laying back down against the beanbag.

“You missed some.” He said, pointing to my chest. I ran my finger through the cum on my breasts, and before I could lick it away, Rick grabbed my hand and sucked my fingers clean before leaning into kiss me, sharing it with me. He grinned at me when he pulled away.

“We should get dressed.” I said disappointedly, glancing over to my clothes. Rick nodded and moved first, pulling his clothes on lazily, leaving his shirt untucked. He smirked at me watching him get dressed, and threw my clothes at me. I pulled them on with a sigh, not in the mood to leave the cozy bubble of my afterglow just yet. “You know, the ten o'clock offer’s still there, if you’ve got it in you.” I said, and Rick snorted.

“Of course I’ve got it in me.” He said, kneeling back down in front of me and pulling me closer to him by my legs, my hips bumped into his and I hummed, still sensitive. “I’ll be there.” He added.

��Good.” I grinned, pulling him in for another kiss, rolling my hips against him.

“Jesus, i-is every chick your age this cock hungry?” He asked me when we broke away, and I giggled and shrugged.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #fanfiction

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