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axwalker · 3 years

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CREEP 4: I wish I was special

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection.

In this chapter: Lexie and Drake spend a lot of time together. I’ve have to be honest this is a filler chapter with a bit a lot of smut 🤷🏽‍♀️

A/N: Drake’s and Lexie’s POV.

Words: 4,470

WARNINGS: SMUT! Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love.

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS –As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

Drake

I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m holding Lexie in my arms, and this is happening.

Damn. She tastes even better than I imagined. Soft lips, the flavor of cherries and mint and something singularly Lexie. So, fucking sweet. Her innocent tongue is hesitant at first to play with mine, making her surrender even more satisfying. She’s been the center of my world for years. She’s everything I crave, and I didn’t know how to handle the rejection of the only person who matters to me. I know that’s not an excuse; I know that I don’t fucking deserve her. Hell, if I were a better man, a man that wasn’t starving for her, I’d live her alone.

She makes me stumble into the bed- when her thighs tighten around me, and she allows me inside her perfect little mouth with hot strokes of my tongue, my hands aching over the softness of her hair, her cheeks, absorbing her unique textures with my palms.

Get yourself out of my system. My heart has just awakened again, and it breaks painfully; when I think about her words, I make a pitiful sound into the kiss. Ah God. The best night of my life could be the night Lexie cuts me off for good, and I don’t know how to stop it from happening. She’s attracted to me, but I’ve hurt her too badly to contemplate a future. A man with more self-control, maybe an older one, might stop this now. Demand to talk, to explain to her I’ve loved her for so long and so fucking deep that I can’t see straight. That I let my insecurity act on my name. But right now, I can do nothing but soak up every inch, take as much as I can before she wants me gone. I let her mouth go momentarily, kissing down her jawline to her neck, trying to memorize exactly how she smells, how she tastes in every single part of her. How she sounds when she moans brokenly when she shifts her pussy against my lap. Then does it again.

“Feels good,” she whispers, her voice barely loud enough to hear above the storm. “Drake.”

I want to give her a first time she’ll think about every hour for the rest of her life, but I’m… I’m quickly recognizing my inexperience. I’m not as practiced at sex as she thinks. Only one girl before I met her. After seeing those deep brown eyes, no one else would do it for me. But I have been fucking starving for it for years. With this girl. So when she rubs against my cock and whispers, “feels good,” I almost come against in my jeans.

I have to force myself not to grip her butt cheeks and grind her down while I thrust up, giving myself enough friction to finish. Christ, don’t finish. Please. I’ve been blessed with an opportunity I don’t deserve. A night with Lexie. A chance to make her first time perfect—and that’s what I’m going to do, even if it kills me.

A thunder rumbles in the sky outside as she makes urgent, breathy noises, her fingers grabbing my T-shirt. She strips it off over my head, her palms slowly brushing the shape of my chest up to my arms, leaning in to kiss the hollow of my throat, the underside of my chin. Heat burns me from the inside, growing hotter with every touch of those lips on my body—and no, no, no, I can never live without her. I’ll fade and die without her touch. Get into her system, not out of it. Get deeper. So deep she can’t take me out. As deep as she is inside me. I know she’ll never love me as I do her, but I need her anyway. With those directions clear and loud in the back of my head, I move toward the bed and drop down to my knees, gently laying Lexie on her back, kissing her incredible mouth while my fingers fumble with the button and zipper of her jeans. I’m touching Lexie’s pussy through denim, and again, I want her so fucking badly, I’m worried I’m going to ruin everything, but I grit my teeth and start to slide the jeans down her legs. As soon as the soft, soft flesh of her thighs is revealed, I tilt my face up and shut my eyes closed. God, oh God.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers, lifting her hips so I can remove the pants. “You’re so beautiful; I’m trying not to come just looking at you,” I groan, tossing her jeans aside, taking several deep breaths to get myself under control, before giving in to the overwhelming temptation to see Lexie in panties. No amount of imagination could have done her justice. The shy inward turn of her left knee, the light blue panties that rapidly become see-through, thanks to how wet she is. The slit of her sex. My senses are overloaded, my breathing uneven.

Then she blushes and bites her lip, and I understand that she’s as nervous as I am. Probably more. Fuck, this is not about me. This is about the beautiful, sweet girl underneath me. I take a moment to look at her face; her eyes are shining, her cheeks pink, her mouth is swollen from being kissed. I’m an eighteen-year-old man who –for three years, has only climaxed from jerking off, and because of that, my instinct now is to take my cock out and come all over the goddess in front of me. I’ll come so hard. All over her. But this is more than sex. I’m being allowed sex with the girl of my dreams. My dick is in disbelief, painfully hard and dripping with pre-come in my boxers, begging to come inside of her, instead of out. And Lexie…her eyes are locked on it in wonder, lips in an O shape. I’m going to be looking at that beautiful face when she takes my cock inside of her, feeling me move, stealing her innocence. Jesus. How am I going to last?

“Lexie,” I groan through my teeth, trying to explain with that single word how fucking horny she makes me. She’s still staring at the bulge in my jeans.

“Am I…should I…” I’ve never heard her with that husky tone of voice before. “Does it go in my mouth first?”

I shudder so hard, my jaw almost breaks. “Christ, don’t say that, baby. Fuck.” I’m a beast right now, ripping down my zipper and shoving my hand inside, beating off the raw length of my dick, my eyes traveling from her face, to her tits, to her pussy. Then circling back and starting at the beginning, telling her how fucking gorgeous she is. A fucking goddess. And Lexie seems to sense my desperation and overcome her shyness because she takes down her panties and kicks them away, baring herself to me. Ironically, when I should ultimately explode because the vision she creates is such perfection, I’m determined with purpose instead. With responsibility. As soon as her pussy is out, all I can think about is tasting it, giving her an orgasm and my own sexual pain takes an immediate back seat, my jerking hand slowing in the lap of my jeans. The sight of Lexie’s body hypnotizes me.

“Can I touch you?” She nods shyly but eagerly, holding her breath. I hold mine, too, my palms gently grazing up her inner thighs and pushing them apart, spreading the pink slit between her legs, revealing the secrets I need to learn or I’ll die unsatisfied. “Tell me when I do something that feels good.”

Slowly, I trace a thumb down the split of her pussy and her back arches, her gasp is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “There,” I say in a rush, finally exhaling, tracing the edges of the nub that made her eyes roll back in her head. “Can I lick you here, baby?” Her hands fly to the mattress, fingers digging into the blanket.

“Yes.”

Fuck. I get to give her head. I’m down on my stomach in a heartbeat, rubbing my nose through her slick folds, inhaling Lexie, something peachy, gently dragging my tongue side to side over that little button. The sight of it makes my cock pound, my tongue licking toward it automatically, on reflex…and Lexie loses her fucking mind. A sexy sound fills my ears, her fingers sinking into my hair, pulling me closer. It’s like winning a gold medal at the Olympics. Knowing I found the exact spot that could get that reaction out of my girl has almost made me come right then. My tongue is worshipping her until I’m devouring her, doubting between French kissing her wet little pussy and teasing that perfect spot, her cries making the sweetest music in my ears.

“Drake. Drake. Don’t stop. Don’t. Please, please, please.”

When she comes, I swear to God, the taste of her is so sweet, so incredible, I go a little insane.

“I-I’m ready, Drake. Please.”

Despite how fucking bad I want her, I must make sure she wants this. I take a deep breath to calm my fucking dick, then I bend down to kiss her cute little nose and ask her, “Are you sure about this?”

She nods “Yes. God, yes.”

“I don’t have a condom. I don’t—”

“I’m on the pill. I went to the doctor myself to regulate my periods. Are you --uhm clean?”

I’ve only been with one girl three years ago, and we were safe. “I am.”

“Then I’m sure, Drake. Please, I want you so badly.”

With a choked sound, I take hold of my cock and press it to her center, my life flashing in front of my eyes when I slide in a single inch and her wet pussy clenches around me like a fist. “Oh. Fuck.” I drop my face into her neck, raking my teeth against it, my hips burning with the need to thrust. Claim. Pound her into the ground.

“Are you okay, baby?” Fuck, her eyes are shut, a painful expression in her innocent face.

“I just need a moment, Drake.”

“I’ll give you anything you need, baby.” I don’t need to think about anything to distract myself. The mere fact of knowing she’s hurting is more than enough to sober me up. I cage her head in my arms and kiss her softly. I look her in the eyes, and there’s something in her eyes I’ve never seen before. Trust.

“I lied to you, Lexie. I’ve only been with one person like this. But that was before you. Since then, I’ve never wanted to touch anyone but you. Never been hard for anything but this…” I feel her adjusting to me, so I force in another inch. It feels better than I could’ve ever imagined. “This sweet little pussy.” I search Lexie’s flushed face and find her looking at me in wonder, surprise.

“You…waited for me.” she whispers.

My nod is jerky, teeth clenched. “You really haven’t figured it out yet? You can’t tell I’m obsessed with you?” I drop hard kisses all over her face, her hair, her neck. “You can’t tell I would murder, lie and steal just to have you look at me?” Her breath comes in tight pants, brown eyes glazed.

“I need more. You’ve been hiding from me for two years, acting like someone else. But this…this is honest. I-I want to feel it.”

“Soon. Soon. Just let me get myself under control.”

“Please, Drake.” Her expression is enthralled, imploring. “Fall apart.”

I “Lexie, please. I don’t want to hurt you, baby. I want to make it perfect for you.”

She gives me one of those smiles I craved so much, and catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she reaches down and sinks her fingernails into my ass, yanking me close and impaling herself on my rigid cock. Fuck, I want to be gentle with her, I need to but damn if she’s not making it difficult. I bury myself to the hilt, and she gasps

“Hurts,” she says. “You’re too big. It’s too big.”

“What?” I struggle for awareness, my eyes unfocused as I search her face.

“Too big…” “It hurts.” Horror hits me. I’m hurting Lexie. My Lexie. Fuck no. “No, I’ll stop.”

“No.” She tightens her legs around my hips. “Just go slow.”

I kiss her front. “I’ll go as slow as you need me to.” My eyes focus on her pretty face. She’s so perfectly delicate. “You’re sure, baby?”

“Yes.” She kisses my mouth to reassure me, and I groan, melting at her touch, gently rolling in and out of her. It’s a painful effort to keep the slow pace, but I want her to enjoy this. I stop for a few seconds, and I search her face. If she’s still in pain, I’ll pull out of her no matter what she says. But her lips are parted, and she seems to be getting there with me, so I continue to thrust, rhythmic and measured, our eyes hot on one another. Her tight little pussy is making me insane.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” I growl, kissing her neck. “The smell of you in class. The shape of your neck and hips and that perfect hair moving in front of me. Perfect, so perfect, so mine. And you wouldn’t even give me your eyes. It broke me. But you’ve always been mine, no matter what, huh? Nothing can change that.” I lick her neck, her throat, her mouth. I move a little faster and she cries of pleasure. “Be mine, Lexie.”

I put my hand between us and touched her at the same spot I did when I kissed her sex. Her reaction is immediate.

“Oh god, Drake. Just there. This is—God.”

She cries one last time, and I can feel her pleasure squeezing my cock as she comes.

An invisible string is cut when I’m finally down the other side of my peak, my heaving body collapsing on top of Lexie’s. “Lexie?” I kiss her forehead, her cheeks. “I’m… God. Are you okay?”

Her nod gets my blood running again.

“It finally happened,” I say, almost hoping she didn’t hear me.

“What did?”

“My fantasy came true.”

The smile she gives me is almost shy. And somehow, that’s the best part of our perfect night.

Lexie

Over the years, my mother’s voice has started to fade from my head, but I can remember her saying, “Santo Dios,” when something interested her. Or made her sit up and take notice. And watching the muscles of Drake’s back move in the darkness, I mouth those words to myself. Santo Dios. After we… After what happened … I don’t know what to call what we did. I’m scared to call it “making love.” “Sex” sounds too shallow for something so intense. “Fucking” sounds too crude, too impersonal, when what passed between us couldn’t have been more personal.

All this time, I pictured Drake meeting girls on the weekends, forgetting all about me in a quest for momentary bliss. But that wasn’t the case at all. He’s been…he waited. He waited for me. When making that confession, the raw honesty in his eyes left absolutely no doubt that he…feels something for me. Quite a lot, if I can believe what a man says in the heat of the moment. None of what Drake said felt like bullshit, though. Or a man telling a woman what she wants to hear. It was as if he’d been holding it in and pleasure broke the dam of secrets, making his walls collapsed all around me. Leaving me with the ruins of all this new knowledge.

I sit on the back porch of the cabin, arms wrapped around my knees, watching Drake connect the generator so we can have light. Thanks to the storm, the electricity isn’t working. Now, shirtless, he works on his knees in front of the machine, a frown of focus between his dark brows. Every minute or so, he stops working to glance over at me, his throat bobbing, his eyes watchful and hungry, the outline of his erection back to pressing against the front of his jeans. My newfound feminine vibrates, demands attention. I was too tired to put my pants back on, so I’m dressed in panties and a T-shirt. My lack of clothing feels forbidden, as does being alone at a cabin with a boy. For the whole night. And I don’t know what to do about the desire he’s fueled inside of me. I don’t know what to do with the excitement of knowing we’re both new –or almost, at exploring the bodies of the opposite sex…and all the ways we could do it now. Inside the cabin. Alone. No one to hear us, judge us, see us. No getting in trouble. Nothing holding us back. Except for what he did to me for two bitterly long years. Except for the fact that I need to get far away from here, from my father, and it won’t do me any good to get attached to this magnetic boy.

There can only be one night. I need to make a fresh start. I need to cut myself clean off from everything that has made me feel sad and broken in the past—and whether my heart likes it or not, Drake Walker is one of those things.

He’s looking at me right now like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. And it’s that kind of intuition he seems to have about me that is going to get me into trouble. Going to make me second-guess my determination to leave him here along with everyone and everything else I’ve grown up with.

Drake sets down the tool in his hand and flips a switch, lighting up the porch. “Looks like it’s working.”

“Yeah.”

He sends me a tight smile. “They don’t call me a handyman for nothing.” It occurs to me in that moment that I don’t know a lot about Drake’s private life. I know he lives in a trailer on the other side of town. And the horrible story he told me about his family, but not much more.

I want to escape this place. Does he? “Are you…planning on hanging around Portavira after graduation?”

His movements pause ever so slightly, but I catch it. “Hadn’t thought too much about it.”

“Really?”

“No,” he sighs. “That’s a lie.” Kneeling in front of the toolbox, his jaw tightens, his gaze eventually making its way back to me. “And I don’t want to lie to you anymore, Lexie.”

“Then don’t,” I say quickly, holding my breath.

“I know you want to go to college and make something of yourself, but that -that’s not an option for me. I’m just going to stay here trying to fix this old house and honor my dad’s memory.”

He evades my gaze, and the reason why is painfully obvious. “You have nothing, nothing to be ashamed about, Drake. What you’re doing with this cabin is amazing; if this is what you want to do, you should”.

Even in the muted moonlight, I can see the reddening of his cheekbones. “Believe me, for the rest of my life, I’m going to hate myself for how I treated you. I thought…”

“What?”

He shakes his head, but answers anyway. “That night at your house, I thought when you found out I what I did for a living, that I was there to repair your roof…you remembered I wasn’t good enough for you. That you looked down on me. I thought you were ignoring me all this time because you regretted everything that happened, everything you said. You had a momentary lapse of judgement and went back onto your pedestal, out of reach of my filthy hands. It hurt to think I disgusted you. It hurt and I took it out on you.” At the end of his explanation, my mouth is hanging open. No wonder he was so mad, lashing out all the time. He thought I was ignoring him because I thought myself better. Above him. For a prideful person like Drake, being ignored because of his status would have stung worse than anything else.

“Why are you only telling me this now?”

“Because it sounds like an excuse—and I’m not making one. Ever.”

“I didn’t think I was better than you. I missed you.” That strong chest of his starts to rise and fall quickly, his gaze penetrating me through the darkness. “I know that sounds silly. It was just one night.”

“No. I missed you, too.” He takes a step in my direction. “Still do.” His eyes close and he releases a bumpy breath. “Brutally, baby. I’ve never stopped wanting—fuck-craving you like a madman. It just killed me to see how you were so gentle and kind to everyone but me. Even before I started -bullying you.”

Nerve tingle everywhere on my body, the need to touch and be touched by Drake increasing the temperature of my skin rapidly, making my breasts feel full, my legs weak. I’ve never tried drugs, but I understand now what addiction must be like. Fighting a pull, battling a self-destructive urge, promises an incredible high before the inevitable downward spiral. If I give him the slightest encouragement, he’s going to bring me inside and…be with me again.

Is that what I want? Yes.

Will giving in to my physical urges make it much harder when I have to leave town for good? Yes. Yes.

There isn’t anything casual about Drake and me. And how can I begin to rebuild my pride, my life, if my first act of independence is giving my body to the person who made me cry so many times since sophomore year, I’ve lost count? I search for a way to change the subject. To take the focus off the connection dragging us back together.

“Well.” I dampen my lips. “I don’t think I’ll go to college anymore. My father hid all my acceptance letters. He was never really going to let me go.” I intertwine my fingers together and tighten them until they leach of color. “Tonight, was the first time I ever spoke back to him. I was just so angry.” Several beats pass.

“Of course, you were.” He drops down onto the back porch, a couple of feet to my right, staring out into the trees. “Hell, Lexie. I’m sorry he did that.”

I nod. “I did a lot of thinking on the back of your bike. It’s good for that. Thinking. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah. When you don’t want to think… it’s good for that, too.”

“Hmm.”

He looks over at me; hands clasped loosely between his bent knees. “What did you think about?”

“College. How to salvage the original plan.” I feel kind of jumpy, sharing my ideas with Drake, with anyone, I’ve kept things to myself for so long, not confiding in my classmates, not getting close to others, lest my father find a way to blacken the connection. To make people sorry for interacting with me. “I was thinking…maybe I could go and see the school guidance counselor. I need all my transcripts to apply to college here in Cordonia. Once I do that, things might get easier. There has to be a way to make it work. Even if it is a little late to apply.”

Drake nods, frowning like he’s giving my plan some serious thought. “It’s not safe for you to go back to the school, Lexie. I’ll go. I’ll do whatever you need. Pick up your transcripts or anything else. We can find a library around here to fill out the applications online…” My heart thumps heavily. All that time spent with him, getting deeper and deeper. It wouldn’t be wise. “You don’t have to do all of that.”

“I want to.”

His eyes are hopeful. I shouldn’t allow that hope. Nor should I rely on him for things I need to do myself. Things that will be required to take control of my life. “It’s not safe for you at the school, either. What if my father presses assault charges?” As soon as I ask the question, I shake my head. “Never mind. He’d never do that. People would know you bested him. They’d know what he did to me, too—and he’d never, never allow that. There’s nothing more important to him than his reputation.”

“So I’ll go to the school for you?” he asks, quietly, almost too casually, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. It’s not a simple question. If I say yes to this favor, it means our…relationship will extend beyond one night. To include tomorrow—Sunday—plus Monday morning, before the school opens. It adds time to the us I know he still wants. Do I have a choice, though? My father could be there waiting for me, and that terrifies me more than my feelings for Drake do. What he’s willing to do could help me tremendously. Could start me on the path to a new beginning. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll go.”

Drake swallows loudly, his eyelids closing. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze traces my bare thighs hungrily. We have until Monday now. What are we going to do with all that time? That question hangs in the air, unspoken, but louder than a shout. I can almost feel the binds tightening us together, strengthening until they become impossible to snap. And it scares me, but I need him too, even if it’s for a few days. Always loved being scared, electrified, by beautiful things, and bare-chested in the moonlight, Drake is by far the most beautiful of all.

“Lexie…” he breathes, swallowing loudly. “I want to taste you again?” Heat envelops me, invades me. I’ve always worried I need to touch myself too often. That I have a more pronounced sexual appetite than I’m supposed to have at my age. But as Drake kneels on the lower stair in front of me and separates my thighs, kissing a path toward my apex, I know he’s the reason. Drake is the reason I’ve been riding the heel of my hand, crying frustration into my pillow, night after night after night. He’s the one that inspires the excruciating arousal—and I don’t have a shot in hell of saying no to him. Not when it comes to being physical. I just have to remember to say no to anything more. Anything beyond this. “Yes…” I lean back on my elbows. “Do it.”

He does, and we spend the next hours lost on each other.

#axwalker writes #drake x mc #drake walker #trr high school #trr au fanfic #drake x lexie #tw abuse #tw bullying #tw violence #n*sfw

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xlittle-writerx · 3 years

Text

Enemies

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

summary: peter like's y/n but y/n doesn't like peter, they think

warnings: none, a bit sappy towards the end

wc: 2.5k

•••

y/n POV

School is the only thing I manage to do right, being top of the class means so much to me and I’ve worked my ass off every hour of every day to be where I am today. It's not only that though it’s also the fact that if I weren’t good enough my parents would be super disappointed in me and I can’t have that because disappointing my parents is the last thing, I’d wanna do.

But then Peter came along and fuck he's better than me in every way possible way it scares me, like good on him for being a fucking genius but please stop, it’s also not fair that he's really attractive.

It hurts a little bit, it's not his fault I know that but I can’t help but be angry at him for taking the top of the class spot that I’ve had for 3 fucking years in a row and now he comes in here and takes it from me.

I want that spot back, no matter what it takes because if my parents find out they won’t be happy, and I can’t have that.

•••

Walking into first period English and taking a seat I wait patiently for the teacher to arrive going on my phone and reading some story I'd found on Tumblr. I feel someone hovering over my shoulders, so I glare up at whoever is interrupting my story, glaring, even more, when I see it's Peter, damn you genius.

"What do you want" I spit having had a bad day and not wanting to talk to the reason for it, he goes to reply but the teacher, Mrs Harrington, walks in ushering all the people that are out of their seats to sit down. Annoyingly there is a spare seat next to mine, so Peter decides it's a good idea to sit in that seat even though I'm sure he can tell that I don’t want to be near him, I sigh annoyed that he's ignoring my obvious discomfort then avert my attention back to the teacher.

"Good morning class, I hope you all enjoyed your weekend, today we are starting a pair project" Mrs Harrington starts and I hear murmurs around the class of people deciding who they want to go with "but don't get too ahead of yourselves I'm picking the pairs" at that the class then quiets down.

I start to doze off into my imagination while Mrs Harrington is picking pairs until I hear my name, "and lucky last I guess that leaves Ms y/l/n with Mr Parker, enjoy class" oh hell no I will not, I turn my head and frown at him and I swear I see a slight flash of guilt, but he covers it up with a charming smile and winks at, oh that confidence.

"I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other y/n, don't worry though I'll make sure we get a good grade" Peter whispers with a cocky smile, screw him and his attractive face.

He pulls the desk he's sitting at over to mine making a loud screeching sound along the floor and gaining attention from the whole class, he smiles sheepishly and giggles and I'm not gonna deny it was kinda cute, but I roll my eyes at him we start discussing what topics we should do our project on.

Now don't get me wrong Peter is extremely attractive and totally dateable and him being smart only makes him 100 times hotter, but the fact that he's the one person making my parents feel a strong sense of disappointment towards me trumps any feeling that I might feel towards him, I think.

Peter's POV

Peter get yourself together god I can't be crushing on y/n not only does she hate me because I got a better grade than her in some classes, but she now thinks I don’t care about her and god what was that stupid comment Peter "I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other y/n, don't worry though I'll make sure we get a good grade" I'm so stupid like 'y/n I'm sorry I just can't control what comes out of my mouth when I'm around you'.

I mean she's beautiful and smart and compassionate and kind and down to earth, who wouldn't fall in love with her, she is everything a guy like me could want and more and I know that she is way too good for me like way too good.

As the bell for the end of lesson rings through my ears I start to pack up my stuff and go to walk out the door when I hear Mrs Harrington say "ok class see you tomorrow you have until this time next week for your project so I will suggest to catch up with your partner outside of school if you want a high grade" I smile at the thought of seeing y/n outside of school.

"What the hell are you smiling at Parker" I hear her say from beside me, I'm surprised she even made a comment seeing how she supposedly hates me "well, hello, Parker you still there" I snap out of my thoughts at her waving a hand in front of my face. "Uhm— um- huh uh— nothing nothing" god Peter get your words out you’re a big boy. She giggles, giggles? At me and keeps on walking to her next class. I wanted to talk to her about catching up after school to do the project, so I grab her by the wrist saying "wait, y/n, I wanted to see if— um if you wanted to um— you know what never mind bye” I smile a small smile at her letting go of her wrist as she says bye back and watch her walk out of the class like a creep.

y/n POV

What the hell was that y/n, giggling at him, really, y/n doesn't giggle at boys. And also, what the hell was that tingling feeling in my wrist when he grabbed me and why oh why am I still smiling like an idiot.

He was being all cute though I'm not sure what was up with that.

I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket a few times and pull it out seeing a couple of messages one from my best friend Nevaeh and an unknown number.

I open Nevaeh's message first and it reads

•Nevvy• 💛: I gave your number to that really cute smart kid that's in your class ;) •Nevvy• 💛: go get him, tiger

I roll my eyes at my best friend’s antics and decide not to reply because she's in my next class.

Opening the number that I'm assuming is Peters’s I see a few messages.

Unknown: hi y/n it's Peter Parker I got your number from your friend Nevaeh she said you wouldn't mind I hope you don't I thought it would be smart if I got your number so we can chat about our project ;) Unknown: :)* shit sorry

Laughing at the last message he sent and changing his contract name to Peter I put my phone away making it to my next class before the bell goes, I see Nevvy walking in and go up to her making conversation waiting for the teacher to start the class.

•••

Peter and I are almost finished with our project which I am super thankful for, but we still need to add a few more bits and pieces of information before we hand it in tomorrow.

Over the past week, Peter and I have gotten kinda close and I don’t know what to think about that because I haven’t liked spending time with him ever because seeing his face just reminds me of how much of a failure I am to my family, but lately I haven’t been thinking about that when I'm with him all I can think about now is how cute his face is, and I don’t know what to do.

Fishing my phone out of my pocket I shoot a quick text to Peter letting him know I'm on my way over to his place.

Putting my phone away I walk down the busy streets of Brooklyn feeling the need to get some food, so I stop in at a small place called Delmar's and who do I see standing at the register, Peter freaking Parker, what are the chances.

I walk up behind him scaring him and he lets out a very high-pitched squeal I thought that he might be a little girl. Laughing he turns around scared out of his pants and he looks like he wants to piss himself. He lets out a breath of relief seeing that it’s just me and not some weirdo wanting to murder him or something.

"oh um— hey y/n, what are you doing here?" He stutters out, picking at the skin around his fingernails, I smile at his cute little nervous habit I’ve noticed he has and reply, "I was um— on my way to yours and wanted some food so I decided to stop in here, can you wait for me then we can walk together."

Peter's POV

Crap, she wants me to wait for her, what the hell is happening I thought that she hated me although she has been acting differently towards me this past week so maybe, just maybe will I have a chance with her, of course, she's way out of my league, but a boy can dream, can't he?

"Sure, yep I— I can do that" I stutter out once again looking up from my hands to see her smiling, god I love her smile, "thanks Pete" she replies happily then goes to order something at the counter I smile at the little nickname she's given me.

Once she had finished ordering she came over to me and we started walking to my place. I felt our hands brush together a few times and I know it's cliché as shit, but I felt tingles. I glance over at her to see her smiling down at her hand, if she’s smiling for what I think she’s smiling for then I think I might cry out of happiness, I'm hoping.

•••

Walking into my apartment building and into my apartment, I go straight to my room knowing that Aunt May is away for the week expecting y/n to follow me in there.

Once there I put all my stuff down and jump onto my bed with my English books, I see y/n looking around awkwardly trying to find a place to sit "y/n, you can um— you can sit here with me" I say patting the bed next to me, she just nods and walks over to me and we start discussing the project.

I feel the need to ask her why all of a sudden, she's being so nice to me since she's disliked me for as long as I can remember.

"Hey, y/n, why don’t you like me?" I ask nervously looking down at my hands and playing with my fingers.

"Um I— I don't really know... well I do" I look up at her to see she's already looking directly at me "I don't think I ever truly didn’t like you, I— I guess I just hated that you were better than me at the only thing I was good at" I go to reply but she cuts me off saying something else “I know its not your fault that your like a super genius” she laughs without any humour lasing her tone “but my parents have always said I should be the best at everything I do and that includes this I guess so when you got here and just popped up in front I took my anger out on you and I know, I know it was shitty but it felt better than thinking that I couldn’t do anything well anymore” she continues with a shaky voice, and I see a glassy look cover her eyes like she's about to cry.

"You see Pete you're amazing at so many things, not just school and it just felt like I got stabbed in the heart when I heard there was a new top of the class for the first time in 3 years and then going home and seeing the disappointed looks on my parent's faces, I don’t know I just felt like I had nothing left” she finishes, and I see a single teardrop from her eye, she quickly brings her hand up to wipe the tear but they just kept coming.

I can't stand to hear her talk about herself like that, it breaks my heart to see that she actually thinks that's the only good thing about her when there are so many more things "y/n listen to me, yeah, you're an amazing, smart, generous, beautiful, compassionate, kind, down to earth, genuine person and don't let anyone, including yourself, tell you any differently." I smile at her and see a dumbstruck look cross her face.

"You really believe that Peter, you think I'm beautiful?" She questions still not believing the words coming out of my mouth, I nod bringing my hand up to wipe more of the tears slowly falling down her face “of course I do your amazing” I smile at her and she gives me a small smile back.

The tears were gone now but I couldn't bring myself to remove my hand from her cheek, I look up into her eyes and see a light in them that I haven't seen in a very long time, she's so pretty, it's also at this moment that I realise she has started to move in closer, as in CLOSER, as in does this mean we are going to kiss, what if I'm bad at this, what if— my thoughts are cut off as I feel her soft lips pressing gently against mine, I'm in shock at first but then as I'm about to kiss back she pulls away leaving her forehead resting against mine.

"I— I've wanted to do that for forever" I let out breathlessly, she just smiles that beautiful smile and leans back in kissing with much more pressure than the previous one.

I bring my hands down to her waist as she entwines her hands in my hair tugging on it slightly, I accidentally let out a light groan the feeling of her pulling my hair being ecstatic, I feel slightly embarrassed until she giggles and kisses me harder climbing onto my lap and into a straddling position kissing me with so much passion.

We break the kiss breathless and panting wanting it to continue but knowing if we kissed for much longer, we wouldn’t be able to stop.

I just stared at her for a while thinking why in the world does this amazing, beautiful woman want me but boy I'm not complaining.

“You’re beautiful y/n”.

“So are you Peter”.

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sweetlavenderwritings · 4 years

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Back To His Nest- Pt. 2

A/N: I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I DIDN’T EXPECT THE LOVE THE FIC GOT AND WAS VERY SURPRISED. I initially planned to leave it at that maybe?? but then many of ya’ll actually wanted a part two and i had to rack up my brain on what was gonna happen ( ´△｀) anyways it’s here and i hope it doesn’t disappoint!

Pairing/s: hawks/keigo takami x reader

Word Count: 2 772

Tags: very light angst, love, eventual fluff, domestic fluff,

-ꦼ———▸ Part 1

⋅. ♪ .⋅ Loving Keigo Playlist

8 Years later…

You haven’t heard from him ever since you left. As planned, your parents had called him in advance. Telling him he shouldn’t try and contact you anymore, that trying to find you would be a waste of time. You were such a coward that you couldn’t even leave a message, your parents bearing the responsibility of telling him you’ve cut off ties with him completely.

It hurt. The pain was unbearable for the first few months, restless nights of crying as you struggled to keep your composure. You couldn’t even erase his number from your saved contacts. His callers ID still the same nickname you had for him. Despite your parents warning about not contacting you anymore, he still left a call every day. There were neither questions nor any form of pleading you to come back. Because you never answered, he left small messages that he sent at random times of the day. There was no consistent message of what the calls were all about. It was as if he left these messages like a personal diary he’d write to when he felt like it.

“The day’s great today. It’s a bit hotter than usual but I’m quite grateful for the heat since flying always got me cold.” Yes it did, it was one thing about flying that he disliked. He just got too cold easily, which was why every time he got home, he’d head straight to the showers for a long hot soak then demand cuddles. He liked to call you his personal heater.

“It was too bright though, I had to keep squinting and I almost slammed face first to a billboard! Could you imagine that? Number Two Hero Getting Clumsy! Slams into Make Up Ad Starfish Style.” He laughed. “Okay, that was the worst headline ever. Could you blame me? I’m not really much of a writer like you are. Somehow, you always knew how to string words together beautifully… Ahh, looks like a low class villain is up to no good. I’ll catch up to you later. I love you baby bird.”

And just like that, he hangs up. They always ended in the same way, him having to cut it short because of his duties, and the constant line of ‘I love you.’ It felt so unfair, how he’d make it harder for you to move on. You knew better than to listen to them, but you still did. You drunk up his voice whenever you heard it, closing your eyes and imagining he was actually there right in front of you, talking to you. When he hangs up, the sad illusion is gone.

There were times you almost called him back, desperately wanting to run back into his arms. To apologize for leaving, to tell him the truth, to tell him you never stopped loving him in the first place. But as your fingers almost reach the call button, your fear of the Hero Public Commission stop you every time.

So you settle for watching him in the news, seeing the headlines as he saves dozens of people every day. You read every article you see online, scouring every page for stories. It was torture, but you had to keep strong, not just for yourself. It wasn’t like you were alone in this anymore.

After 9 long months, you finally gave birth to your child. His child.

She was perfect. She looked almost exactly like him, honey blond hair and yellow eyes that seemed to glow. Her image made you miss him so much it hurt. But these feelings of pain and misery were shoved off to the back of your mind, choosing instead to focus on your newfound feelings of joy and contentment. After so long, you felt like you could be happy again.

You named her Keiko, meaning “adored one”, because she was. With enough patience, you raised her by yourself. You dedicated your whole life making sure she grew up to be happy; it felt like you were compensating for the pain you brought upon to you and Hawks. Somehow, you comforted yourself with the fact that you saved your child from the horrors of what may come to her when the world comes to know of her existence.

---

“Mom, come look it’s him again!” Keiko cheered, pointing at the television. An all too familiar winged hero comes on screen, gracefully flying in the air as he saved civilians from a burning building one by one. Your daughter let out another cheer as the number two hero successfully saves all of the civilians. Thankfully, the fire didn’t spread further with the help of the fire fighters helping from behind the scenes.

You stare at the screen as the news reporter interviews Hawks, him looking quite worn out but he manages to give the camera a smile and an enthusiastic response. If it was anyone else, he would’ve looked well composed, not breaking a sweat as he nonchalantly brushes off the praises he gets.

“All in a day’s work.” He says.

But you knew better.

Your daughter turns to you with a beaming smile, happy knowing her favourite hero once again saves the day. Her next words made your heart sank, “For my birthday tomorrow, can we meet him please?! I just want a picture and an autograph, that’s it I promise!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that baby. Hawks is a busy man and there are no chances we can just see him.” This was a lie of course, you knew he’d jump in at any opportunity to see you again but you couldn’t risk it. It pains you to see your daughter so disappointed, but you had to continue lying. For her sake.

“Tell you what, we can at least go to his district tomorrow and buy his merch. I can even get you one of those limited edition wings if you want.” Hawks’ merch was expensive, so his limited edition merchandise was gonna hurt your pockets like a bitch but it was worth it just to make up for what you couldn’t give your dear Keiko.

“Really?!” Keiko squealed as she bounced around the living room, “I can’t believe I’m going to have my own wings like Hawks, the number two hero! I can’t wait to tell Kiyoko as soon as I get them, she’ll be so jealous of me haha!” You smiled as you picked her up from the couch, stopping her from jumping off.

“If you sleep early tonight we might be able to make it there tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!”

You’ve never felt so nervous before. Because one, you were going to Hawks’ precinct with your daughter, all the more chances of meeting him despite NOT wanting to do that. Two, if by some chance- or karma- you both crossed paths, all your hard work would be all for naught. Hawks wasn’t stupid; he’s by far the most observant man you’ve ever met. Many people don’t know this with the way he eludes them with his charm, thus forgetting he’s the number two hero for a reason. Which means even a small glance at your-his daughter; he’d be able to puzzle the pieces together.

So by desperation, you snuggled your daughter with a big fluffy hat, tied her hair into neat pigtails, and then gave her the favourite pair of pink, heart sunglasses she always liked to wear. She scrunched her nose at you fussing over her appearance, but this was only because she was too excited and wanted to leave immediately. You wore a coat, and sunglasses to hopefully hide yourself as well without looking too suspicious. With a final look in the mirror, you left the house with your daughter in tow.

An hour turned into two, then three, four, five…

“Kei honey, please. It’s time to go home.” You pleaded. You two spent the next hours walking around and buying her gifts. But whenever you stopped near a shop, Keiko never seemed to lose energy and somehow pulled you into another store to “check things out.” It’s times like this you wondered if you spoiled her too much.

“Wait not yet! We might see him here somewhere!” Keiko tugged at your sleeves as she pointed to the main plaza. “I saw him give interviews here last week mommy; maybe he’ll do it again!”

“Baby please, I told you we’re not here for that. We already bought your gifts so it’s time to go home and-“

“Mommy, look! I think it’s him!” Oh no.

As if on cue, the famous red winged hero zoomed in on a scene. A villain, large one at that, appeared in the middle of a crowd and began harming nearby civilians as if it was panicking. How did you not notice that?

But now was not the time, you had to get your daughter out of harm’s way and hopefully, his too. Hauling your shopping bags into the loops of your arms, you carried your whining daughter into your arms and darted in the opposite direction you saw Hawks headed.

Hawks POV

How long has it been, eight years? He never wanted to keep count, but he still did.

God, he was pathetic. He’s supposed to move on by now, find another woman to give his affections to, forget about you then happily live his life.

But he couldn’t and it sucked.

He always felt he was too sentimental despite being a double agent. You would think after all he went through, he’d be hardened and cold as stone. Yet he remained quite soft, too empathetic as what his superiors commented. Fuck that.

He’s on his last patrol for the day, flying over the main plaza to keep civilians bustling on the streets. He doesn’t have any plans for later (as he usually does), so he thinks he’ll spend another night away drinking in his balcony or watch a sappy chick flick in the late hours.

He remembers he has fan mail he’s yet to open. Not that he’s ever obligated to do so, he’s free to throw them in the shredder for all he cares. They’re mostly enveloped underwear sprayed with sickeningly sweet perfume anyways. But he’s been receiving sweet letters from a little girl lately. Messages full of pure adorations and gratitude for his work. Judging by the handwritings and small creative decorations, the letters clearly had been made with a lot of effort. He can’t help but look forward to them every week, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

His thoughts of his late evening plans are disrupted with the sudden sounds of screams and shrieking from below. Without wasting a second he rushes to the scene.

As he got closer, his eyes widened at the sight of who was causing the ruckus, or rather, what.

He dodged the Nomu’s sharp claws that swiped by his face at an alarming speed. In a beat, his feather flew from different directions, all leading to his target. They cut deep gashes onto its skin, but the Nomu’s regeneration was fast, healing its wounds as soon as it was inflicted on it.

Hawks never deterred, continuing his attacks while sending some of his feathers to keep away civilians from the disaster transpiring near him.

He could vaguely hear cheers and shouts from the crowd as he rapidly attacks the creature, somehow finding it difficult to cause enough damage to knock it out of conscious. As he flies around the attacking monster, he spots a vulnerable looking spot in its neck. Pausing for a second, he narrows his eyes as he aims. He was about to release a feather until the Nomu lets out a loud piercing shriek, causing everyone near them to shut their eyes at the screeching wail and cover their eyes.

Fuuck, it must have sensed me. He thought.

As soon as it stopped it’s shrieking, it speeded off to another direction. With a curse, Hawks followed it in pursuit. Pushing and carrying away with his feathers to keep them from getting harmed. The Nomu sets its eyes on a little girl with her mother, launching itself on its haunches then runs at a great speed towards the two.

The little girl screams then hides herself in her mother’s arms. The mother tries desperately to get away, but with the Nomu’s great speed and the closing distance between them there was nothing left to do but to brace herself in front of her child.

“No!” Hawks yells as the Nomu’s claws at the mother. Before it could land another attack, he strikes one of his biggest feathers at its neck. The Nomu stills, and then drops to the ground.

Hawks doesn’t have time to check if it’s dead or not, rushing over to the poor injured mother with her crying child. As he finally makes his way to the woman his heart stops.

It was you.

With shaking arms, he cradled you against his chest. He couldn’t believe it. After all these years, he got to see you again. And with a child! Wait… a child?

He took a look at the crying girl, blond hair and honey eyes… just like him.

His eyes widened in shock. Hair and eyes just like his, it couldn’t be.

“Is my mom gonna be okay?” The girl sniffled. He mentally slapped himself in the face, how could he forget the situation at hand and not comfort his distressed child? “She’ll be okay,” he assured her, “Help is on the way, okay? Can you breathe slowly for me birdie? So you can calm down.”

She wipes the tears from her eyes and nods. At the sound of an ambulance, he stands up while he carries your unconscious body. As the medics put you in a stretcher, he takes the time to actually look at you.

You looked much more different. Hair a different length from before, eyes much more tired, and cheeks less full. It must’ve been hard for you, he thinks. But now I’m here.

He turns to look for his daughter, who was behind him all along. Slowly, he bends over to pick up her shaking form. She raises her arms in surprise, but trusting nonetheless. As he settles her in one arm, he holds her close and looks at her.

“What’s your name, kid?” he softly asks.

“Keiko.” She mumbles shyly. Keiko, you named her after my own name? Hawks felt tears springing into the corners of his eyes. Before he could wipe them away, Keiko surprises him with a hug to his neck. She clings onto him as if he was her lifeline as he mutters something in his ear.

“Thank you for saving me hero.” Hawks finally lets his tears fall.

Reader’s POV

After waking up, you found yourself lying in a hospital bed. Your body felt heavy, you desperately needed to pee, and your throat was parched. You looked around and see your daughter was asleep in a couch near your bed. There was a small bouquet of flowers in your nightstand, but what surprised you the most was the warm, calloused hands that held your left hand; the very same hands that you held years ago. Keigo was asleep.

You ran your hands softly in his hair, a small habit you used to do when he came home utterly exhausted. Hawks stirred in his sleep before opening his eyes. Honey orbs met yours as you felt a smile form on your face.

“Good morning to you too, Kei.”

“Chealsey, oh thank god.” He leapt up from his spot on your bed then embraced you. The hug made you wince but you could’ve cared less. You missed him, you craved for his warmth for years and you never thought you’d ever feel him again. Now he was finally here…

You felt tears fall to your cheeks as you formed apologies in your lips. Hawks merely shushed you as he held you in his arms, “It’s okay, I understand. I know everything.” You clutched his shirt as you sobbed in his chest, letting go all pain and misery you’ve been holding in for years. He kisses your tears away, letting you release all your pent up emotions. He was just glad he had you in his arms once again.

Keiko woke up from her sleep, looking at the two of you in a mess of tangled limbs and tears. “Huh?” she mumbled. “Mommy, why are you crying? What’s going on?”

You both let out a laugh, sharing the same thought. There was going to be a lot to explaining to do.

A/N: fINALLY!! The ending is here! Hope ya’ll liked it everyone ≧(´▽｀)≦ this is unedited and i might do so when i wake up the next day lol. tysm for the love ya’ll gave this ficlet and im sorry for the wait.

#hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #bnha fanfiction #mha hawks #bnha #mha #mha x you #keigo takami #keigo #keigo x reader

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theofficialtozierlover15 · 3 years

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i need you, right here, right now...

A older richie tozier smut story

summary: Richie and Emma haven’t seen each other in 27 years. memories lead to tears, and tears lead to sex...

not edited so may be some mistakes, sorry (also, pretend that emma was a loser in the movie or just make it a different name in your head)

Warnings: SMUT!, swearing, lots of freakin fluff , oral, self pleasure

a bit long but it’s worth it. you will cry and get you daily dosage of smut.

let’s begin, shall we...

Emma’s POV

Emma walked into her room. she can’t believe Mike convinced everyone to stay. but she had to admit, richie looked hotter than ever. not that he never looked hot or anything, but time was NOT his enemy. when they saw each other, sitting across the table at dinner, she felt her heart flutter when she heard him call her ‘hot stuff’ once again. the way he looked at her while taking shots was what she though was hot enough to kill her in that very moment.

Richie’s POV

Richie felt the same way. when he saw her again for the first time in 27 years, he went soft. he was planning on going there and freaking out over what mike asked of them, but when he saw her, he couldn’t help but be happy. And horny...

Emma’s POV

Emma was laying on her bed, looking at the roof. she was in deep thought. about richie. she doesn’t remember a lot form Derry, but the one thing that stuck with her, was the memory of sex with richie. she never had sex with anybody else that could make her feel the same way richie made her feel. yes, they were young. they knew that, but that didn’t stop their love taking over their minds. the way richie touched her made her shiver. she started to get horny at the thought of him. she played with her hair, and sucked on her fingers when she squeezed her breasts. her hands roamed her sides and stopped in front of her jeans button and zipper... she couldn’t do it. she wanted richie inside of her when she was in high pleasure. she got up, got in her pj’s and walked downstairs. she heard richies shower turn off, and all she could think about was how she wished she were in there with him. she shook her head and decided it was time for a drink.

Richie’s POV

Richie was showering. he couldn’t stop thinking about Emma. she looked so beautiful and hot that night. her hair long and layered. hair curled and her lashes long. her lips so plump and kissable. her eyes blue as ever. he knew emma was very unhappy with how skinny she was, but he didn’t think of her as super skinny. he thought of her as perfect, he regrets not telling her how amazing she looked. when the image of emma popped inside of his head, he felt shivers, he thought about the sex they had when they were 15. again, yes they knew they were young, but come on. they loved each other and it wasn’t just 2 stupid teens doing it, it was 2 passionate teens making LOVE. he never forgot the way she moaned and squirmed under his body. he loved the way she scratched his back. he started going hard at the thought, and had an amazing idea pop into his head. he was going to go get a drink for him and emma so they can talk. just the two of them. he hoped that she would feel the same and they could love again. he slipped out of the shower and heard footsteps going down the stairs. they were soft footsteps so it was either Bev or Em. he got dressed and sprayed some cologne and slipped on his shoes. he walked down the stairs and shivered because of the cold and his hair still damp. he turned the corner and saw her looking as beautiful as ever, in her pj’s.

3rd person POV

Emma froze when she saw him standing there. richie smiled and his heart beamed. emma couldn’t breath. he was so hot already and the fact that his hair was damp, made him even hotter, way to hot to comprehend.

“hey babe, what you doing there?” richie said in his original trashmouth tone.

“nothing. just trying to get something to drink. it’s so weird being back here. i remember certain things, but somethings are just blank, you know?” emma said taking a breath walking towards him, closing the fridge.

“believe me, i DO know. but im happy with the things i remember. what about you?” richie walked passed her opening the fridge and grabbing 2 bottles of beer and handing one to emma.

“yeah, m-me too.. so um, how have you been, it’s been awhile. i missed you... guys. like all of the losers..” emma metaly faced palmed herself for stutter like that. richie looked at her grinning while raising an eyebrow at her and sipping his beer.

“why you stuttering like Bill, sexy? iv’e been okay. missed you guys too. missed you more though....what do you remember that you like?” richie grinned deviously.

“that was an accident dip shit. and that’s good to hear. just some memories of hanging out with the losers. nothing else. you?” emma’s face grew red. richie saw this and decided to tease her a bit.

“oh you know, just hanging out with you guys, goofing around. and of course..... the sex. runs through my mind all the time. do you remember that, sweet cheeks?” richie talked slow and painfully as he walked extra slow in emmas direction. emma gulped loudly.

“oh, u-um i-i uh um, don’t think s-so. why?” she felt hot.

“oh, so you don’t remember me fucking the living shit out of you after the rock war with you pulling my hair and moaning my name over and over again? weird, because i remember you saying how you would never forget that moment...” Richie was very very close to emma’s face. she felt shivers when he looked down at her. in fact she felt more than shivers... she felt heat pool between her thighs and she squirmed.

“no,i-i don’t think so. did that really happen? wow, must have been great if i was pulling your hair. only do that when i’m at the top of the pleasure scale...” emma nervously laughed. she felt his hot breath on her neck when he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“is that so? huh. maybe... i can make you remember... would you like that? or do you have a twiggy boyfriend? cause’ that would be to bad, now, wouldn’t it?...” he whispered. making it painfully slow and he heard her breath hitch. emma started to get brave as she now knows he feels the same way as her.

“i don’t have anyone. and are you sure you are good enough to make you remember? i mean, if i don’t remember it then doesn’t that show how shitty you are in bed?” emma smiled and turned. she walked back to her bedroom feeling victory, knowing he would come upstairs and beg to fuck.

she finished her beer and heard a knock on her room door. she knew it was richie so she quickly slipped out of pj’s while leaving her thong and bra on. she threw a robe around her body and answered the door. richie was leaning against the door frame looking serious. emma pouted her bottom lip to tease him.

“awe, did richie mess up trying to get a girl in bed? how does it feel baby?” she made sure her robe was hanging a bit so you could see her bra strap.

“shut the fuck up, em. listen, i missed you. so much. there wasn’t a day where i couldn’t stop thinking about you. even when in a hook up, i still wished you were there with me. i wanted to share a life and kids with you but you were in another city, most likely with another guy. and every year on you birthday, i wanted to reach out and tell you that i love you... but i fucked everything up when i left. i’m so so so sorry, emma.” richie was tearing up and emma broke. she couldn’t tease him anymore. he had tears rolling down his handsome face. she had tear welling up too.

“and i never had the courage to dial you number because i was so scared you wouldn’t love me back. i wanted to roll over every morning, and kiss you and have kids run in and jump up and down because it was christmas. i wanted all of that with you, but there was a chance you had that with someone else. and hearing that you forgot about about our firs time fucking, hurt so bad, em. it hurt so fucking bad. it was hard hearing that the girl i had my first time with, forgot. please tell me, did you choose to forget because of how mad you were when i left?” emma had tears rolling down her cheeks too. she wiped a tear off of his face and cupped it.

“rich, i didn’t forget. and i could never be mad at you, baby. i was just teasing you like old times. i think of out first time all the time. in fact, i have never found a guy that could fuck me like you did. fuck, i thought about you everyday too, hoping i would get a call from you. but i after awhile, i thought you has forgotten about me.” emma was crying with them wiping each other’s tears.

“fuck em, i missed you so much. i regret not calling you and-”

“i missed you too, rich” and with that, emma went on her tippy toes and kissed richie while still cupping his face. they both felt butterflies flutter around in their gut. emma tasted the hot salty tears on richies lips with the taste of beer. she LOVED it.

“now why don’t we make up for the time we lost, hey?” emma pulled him into her room by the collar of his shirt.

“that sounds like a perfect idea. god, iv’e wanted this for so long...” richie smashed his lips on emmas and undid her robe without detaching their lips. he gently pushed her onto the bed and began kissing her neck. emma forgot how good he was. he left hickeys down her neck.

“I want you, right here, right now...” richie said in between kissing emmas lips.

“then you can have me. all of me.” emma said as she looked into his lust filled eyes. they kissed and richie roamed his hands around her body.

“god, you are so fucking hot, lets get rid of these beautiful but useless items of clothing.” richie said while unclasping her bra and tugging at her thong. emma nodded her head.

“but why am i fully exposed when you still have everything on? i think it should be fair babe” emma pulled his shirt off, and started working his belt. they were kissing and whispering sweet nothings to one another. richie was still in his boxers. emma moaned at the feeling of his hard dick on her hip while he was sucking on her neck. she palmed him through his boxers and slid them down. her eyes went huge. he had gotten bigger since the first time. like, way bigger. richie went down in between her thighs and blew on her core.

“god, you so wet already, baby” rich said and then kissed her core. he licked up down her heat and she moaned loudly. she quickly covered her mouth, not wanting to wake anybody up or wanting anybody hearing them. richie pulled her hand from her mouth and said he wanted to hear her and that it didn’t matter if they heard. he stuck his tongue inside of her and she squealed. she bucked her hips wanting more and then all of a sudden, she feels 2 fingers thrust in and out of her slowly. she wanted more.

“rich, please! we waited 27 years, let’s just do it already.” emma whined and it made richie even harder. he pulled out his fingers and kissed emma.

“are you sure about his babe? this isn’t sympathy sex because i cried, is it?”

“god, no. rich, i missed you and i really want this. i want... you” emma said on the verge of tears again, richie wiped them and lined up to her entrance.

“ok, are you ready? tell me to stop if it’s too painful” richie was so in love.

“im ready, rich” emma gave him the okay and he slid in. she felt a wave of pain. it stung and she wasn’t sure if she could this. tears were rolling down her face. richie didn’t move and had a worried look on his face. emma started feeling pleasure and she nodded for him to keep movie, and he did just that. he went slow and then quickened his pace. eventually he was going very very fast. faster than ever. he was pounding into her. he lifted her leg over his shoulder and hit all the right spots. emma was a moaning mess. the room was filled with ‘rich richie richie richie richie yes yes yes oh oh oh baby i missed you fuck yes harder harder faster’ she was extremely loud. they were sweaty but they didn’t care. emma was close to reaching her high. richie reached down and started rubbing her clit rapidly. she practically screamed.

“fuck rich, im-”

“me too babe. ah fuuuck” and with that emma hit her high with richie and pulled his hair. richie groaned at her touch. richie didn’t stop pounding into her, in fact, he went even faster, not knowing how it was possible. emma felt her second climax coming and she rolled her her eyes ti the back of her head. she had never felt this good. EVER. richie released inside of her. she moaned and screamed. richie finally started slowing down. he pulled out and wrapped a blanket around them. he pulled emma into his chest, kissing emma. emma straddled him. he thought she was worn out but he was wrong. emma lined up her entrance with his dick, and sat down on it. emma burrowed her head in his shoulder. she bucked her hips. she started rolling them. she felt as if she was going to collapse. richie put his hands on her bare hips and helped her. she went at a fast pace until she reached her 3rd high. emma kissed richie and went to shower. she hopped in the hot water and cleaned herself. she heard the door close and then richie opened the curtain. he kissed her and started rubbing her sensitive clit. he then pushed in 2 fingers again, and emmas legs were shaking, ready to fall. she gripped onto richie while his fingers were inside of her, pounding into her with love. she came for the 4th time and for the rest of the shower, they kissed and gripped onto each other. after the shower they got dressed and got in bed. emmas legs were so sore, and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to properly walk the next day, but she loved it. she was about to pass out in richies arms, feeling complete, until a bang on the door messed with that. it was eddie. yelling

“you better be done fucking! i don;t need to hear that anymore. it’s nasty guys. we don’t want to hear that! but we are happy for your happiness i guess... now shut. the. fuck. up!!!!!!”

they laughed and finally fell asleep

extra: enjoy

-pennywise fight a week later-

richie told emma to get behind him. she looked at him and obeyed. pennywise started talking with his annoying voice.

‘tsk tsk tsk. oh richie trashmouth, you never learn do you. i know your fears and i love them. you are showing a lot fear right now. yes, and your only helping me. what would you do if i killed emma? huh? oh i think that’s your biggest fear, right? does emma know that you were going to ask he to stay with you? no? well it won’t happen. well lets make that fear, reality. hahahaha” pennywise did his annoying laugh and grabbed emma. richie screamed. pennywise opened his mouth and emma struggled to get out of his grasp. richie ran at pennywise, but the losers were yelling at him that it was fake. but richie didn’t want to take that chance in losing his love of his life that he just got back. he grabbed a metal rod and stabbed pennywise with it. but it was too late. the clown had bitten emma and was now feasting. richie fell to his knees and screamed, with teas rolling down his face him hitting the ground while watching her die in front of him. the losers were crying too but kept saying it was fake, which it was. richie got a hold of himself and stood up.

“you are just a fucking clown that loves fucking with our heads right. your’e just as FUCKING CLOWN!” richie yelled. the rest of the losers joined in and when it was gone, emma came back. she fell to her knees and so did richie. he kissed her and hugged her.

“em, holy fuck i thought i lost you! i love you so much, baby! i l-” richie realized what he had just said. they haven;t used the L word yet and he was scared emma wasn’t there yet.

“i love you too.” she kissed him again. the test of the losers joined into a group hug and decided to get out of there. they went to the quarry to wash off and emma and richie did not let go of each other. richie was trying to find the courage to ask emma to stay with him.

“emma, u-um i was won-ndering if you-ou would think about coming back to Chicago with me?” richie hated himself. he sounded so desperate, but in truht, he really was.

“richie, now you sound like Bill, and... i would love to. there is also something i need to ask... id your biggest fear really loosing me” emma wanted to know really bad.

“well, ya. of course. fuck. i dont want to loose you. ever agin. i need you and want you. i love you” emma was crying now. she had to tell richie something.

“i love you too, rich. but i think you should know the dreams you told me are coming true all at once.” richie was confused.

“what do you mean sugar?”

“well that dream of wanting to wake up beside me and kissing me in the morning.. with kids running into the room on christmas...” richie smiled.

“really? you want to have kids?” richie was so happy and emma laughed.

“rich, you dumb ass! we didn’t use protection... i’m pregnant!” emma said laughing but excited as hell.

“holy fucking mother shit! actually?! this is so fucking amazing!! i love you so much” richie kissed emma and then went down to her stomach.

“listen kid, i love you and you will have the best mom ever. i am so lucky you are my child.” and with that, richie kissed her stomach and picked her up bridal style.

“guess we should get married before you get all huge and can’t see your cute toes, huh?” emma slapped richie and said... yes.

that was the beginning of their long life they would have together.

[sorry that was so long. i just loved writing it so much!!!! HOW DID I DO?]

#richie trashmouth #richie tozier #richie tozier smut #older richie tozier #fluff #richie tozier x reader #it chapter 2

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julemmaes · 3 years

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PP Elucien drabble 5.5

A/N: Is it possible for me to write “I fucking hate Tamlin so much I swear.” at the beginning of each drabble I post? Cause OH MY GOD MY HATRED FOR THIS MAN HAS NO LIMIT.

This is what happens to the other couples involved in the story, the same night Cassian and Nesta fight at the end of chapter five (which, if you missed, I posted yesterday). I’ll probably end up posting the Feylin pov’s either tonight or tomorrow, cause this part is pretty important for our sweet and dear Feysand.

Enjoy!:)

Fic masterlist

Word count: 2,141

Elain felt Lucien's eyes on the side of her face as if he were touching her.

They had just got into the car, after being at Tamlin's for his birthday. He had already celebrated last weekend, but Feyre had invited them to her boyfriend's house because she didn't want him to spend the day he was actually born all alone brooding on his couch.

They had had fun in the beginning, as they had been doing for ten years now, but things had gotten out of hand when Feyre had started to be a little too high on booze and Tamlin had gotten angry.

When she could no longer stand that ghostly touch of fire on her cheek, she snapped, "Stop starring at me." she kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead of her as Lucien drove through the traffic in Velaris.

She caught a glimpse of him as he ran his hand through his loose hair, sighing in frustration, "I'll stop looking at you if you tell me what the problem is."

She had to try her best to remain calm, "You know very well what the problem is."

"Lainy-" he huffed.

She shot her head at him, "Don't you Lainy me."

Lucien turned to her, looking at her with a tight expression, "C'mon, she was just too drunk."

"That has nothing to do with what happened." Elain gritted out, "And you backed him up." she said in a sharp voice, as she crossed her arms on her chest, still unable to believe what had just happened.

Elain was trying to have fun but it had been months since she felt the slightest urge to go out with her little group of high school friends, now reduced to just her and her sister plus their respective boyfriends. Every person who had abandoned them over the years moved further and further away from her every time she mentioned those in her close circle.

All night she had been trying to lean on Lucien, to find affection in the physical contact he was normally so willing to give her, yet he seemed to move away every time she tried to touch his arm, to leave a kiss on his lips, on his cheek.

Feyre was positively drunk and they were playing poker, a dangerous game, if you asked Elain. They hadn't played for so long, but she still remembered perfectly all the times they had done it. All the times Tamlin had taken advantage of his skill and emptied everyone's pockets. All the times they had played a slightly hotter and sexier version of the game and it was always over with him hitting anyone who tried to watch Feyre.

His little sister had proposed just that that night and Elain could already see the wrath in Tamlin's eyes.

Lucien shrugged, turning right towards his house, "Cause it was her fault."

Elain brought her hands to her face, rubbing her cheeks, taking a deep breath, "I swear that if you blame my sister one more time" she murmured, suggesting how angry she really was at that moment.

Her boyfriend immediately got on the defensive, "I'm not trying to blame Feyre. "

She looked at him with a confused grimace on her face, "You literally just said it was her fault."

"I'm just saying that she could have behaved differently," Lucien pointed out, looking at her starkly.

Feyre burst out laughing, pushing all her chips to the center of the table and uncovering the cards. Tamlin grunted next to her, "You lost again."

Elain giggled, taking a sip of wine, "You have to take your shirt off."

Lucien glanced at her and then huffed the air out of his nose, "We can just play with money, we don't have to -" seeing the murderous look his best friend gave him, he grew small on the chair, mumbling the end of the sentence.

Feyre laughed louder, grabbing the edge of her tank top and pulling it up to her chin, uncovering her breasts covered by a simple black sports bra. Lucien immediately looked away, certainly exposing, but she and Elain broke out laughing.

"Okay, that's enough." Tamlin grumbled.

Elain opened her eyes wide, looking astonished, "Do you even hear yourself?"

Lucien raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"Could've behaved differently?" she repeated, imitating his voice. Then she shook her head, bringing her attention back to the road, "No, fuck you."

"Elain, you're acting like a child," he huffed, running a hand through his hair again.

She replied in an irritated tone, "And to me, it seems like you're trying so hard to be Tamlin. And it disgusts me."

He looked at her surprised, "You- I'm not-"

"Yes, you are." she murmured, "And what's worst is that you don't even do that on purpose anymore. You do that so you feel accepted and so that he keeps you under his wing." she snapped, realizing too late that what she had said would provoke such a reaction in Lucien, who closed his mouth and clutched the steering wheel in his hands, remaining silent.

Elain noticed that she had hit a weak spot and felt guilty, "I'm sorry, Luce."

He waved a hand in between them, "Don't be." he whispered in a softer voice, "I was being a douche."

She smiled slightly, "Keep talking." prompting him to continue, "I like where this is going."

"Stop it." he jokingly told her, addressing her with a half smile. She put her hand on his leg, squeezing his thigh. He placed his hand on hers, intertwining their fingers.

"I just don't understand how you can think that what Tamlin does is right," said Elain, in a calmer voice, looking for his gaze, "You'd never treat me that way."

"Then just strip naked and do a lap dance for Lucien while you're at it." Tamlin shouted.

Feyre looked at him with her eyes wide open, before bursting out laughing with tears in her eyes. Elain had covered her mouth with her hand so as not to spit out all the wine on the table, but it had proved impossible when Feyre had mocked Tamlin, turning to Lucien, "If you move off the table, I can straddle you."

Her boyfriend had been too embarrassed to even say no and had just sat there staring at Feyre. Tamlin had grabbed her by the arm and had made her stand up, eliciting a cry of pain from her sister.

Elain had immediately stopped laughing and stood up in turn, followed by Lucien, who had finally put his hand around her waist. Not because he wanted to, she noticed a little later, but because she had taken a step towards the couple and he was trying to stop her.

"You're pissing me off." Tamlin snarled, taking Feyre's clothes and pulling her towards his bedroom.

Elain had tried to talk, to tell him to leave her alone, that everyone was having a good time, but Lucien had blocked her and told her that maybe they should have left.

By the time they got out of the apartment, the screaming had started and Elain could not say who was yelling the loudest.

Lucien spoke very quietly, but there was a hint of amusent there, "No, I wouldn't dare." he said as if he was afraid of how she would react if he even tried to treat her that way.

Elain felt the hairs on her neck rise, "That's not the point," she specified, "even if I was defenceless you'd never do that." she snatched her hand from his leg, carrying it between her thighs to warm up, "That's lack of respect at its best and I'm worried for Feyre."

"Something happened?"

"You know it did. Last week." she pointed it out to him. When he still seemed confused, she said, "When you called me and we fought over the phone." understanding lit Lucien's eyes, who nodded slightly, "See? You can't even remember it because it happens so often we don't even keep count."

"I think he was right." he asserted, "He told me she was flirting with some other guy."

Elain couldn't understand if he was doing it on purpose to make her angry, "And you believe him because?"

"Because he's my best friend and she always does things like that." he said it as if Feyre's behavior was something repulsive.

"I'll overlook the fact that you just offended my sister," she whispered threateningly, "but you shouldn't believe everything Tamlin tells you."

He looked at her, snorting, "Why shouldn't I?" he asked, sincerely curious to know her motives, "He's always been by her side and helped her with everything in recent years, the least she could do is do the little he asks of her."

There were so many wrong things in what Lucien had just said.

"Because that's the way he is." Elain exclaimed exasperatedly, "He gives you everything without asking you for anything in return and then after a while he expects you to treat him like a god." she clenched her fists on her legs, "Plus, he's studying law, he's doing of his best quality," she uttered that word with indignation, implying that it was absolutely not a good quality, but quite the opposite, "the perfect job."

Her boyfriend did not answer, as they stopped at a traffic light and tied his hair in a high ponytail, so she continued, driven by her hatred for the blond man that Lucien seemed to idolize so much, "He is literally studying to lie so successfully that he can free murderers and impostors."

"Don't make it sounds bad. I'm studying law too." he pointed out to her.

Elain chuckled, "First, you are studying environmental law, love," she stroked his face briefly, "you want to save animals." he smiled at her, looking at her tirelessly. "Second, do you really believe that everything Tamlin says is the truth? Because I know that he can twist anything to his heart's content. He has done it several times with you, too."

Lucien huffed, rubbing his hand over his face and touching her nose with his fingertip, "Listen I really don't want their fucked up relationship to intervene in ours, fine?" then looked her in the eyes and smiled lovingly, sighing, "I love you Elain and-".

The words were out before she could stop them, "You do?"

His expression changed completely and he blinked quickly, taken aback, "Of course I do, what are you talking about?"

Elain frowned, "Nothing, I was just," she shook her head, shutting her eyes and turning towards the window, "Sorry, I'm a little bit tipsy too."

There were moments of silence, then Lucien whispered, "And we fight everytime they do."

"Yeah, cause you say stuff like that." perhaps she had used a too rough tone because Lucien made a frustrated sound that echoed in the cockpit.

"This is why I don't want to talk about it." his eyes were wide open and he seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"So you're suggesting we stop talking about serious things because we see them in a different way?" she drawled, irked as a little kitten, "Yeah, that sounds very healthy."

"I'm trying to make things work here." he said, looking over at her.

She scoffed, "Maybe they shouldn't if you think this is the right way to do it."

Everything seemed to come to an halt, "What do you mean?" he stammered.

"Nothing." Elain hurried to say, puffing and creating a cloud of steam with her breath.

She had never felt him as insecure as she did in that moment when he asked, "You wanna break up with me?"

She looked at him immediately, shaking her head frantically, "No, baby, I really don't." and that was the truth, "I'm just exhausted and Tamlin pushed me over the edge."

Lucien didn't seem so convinced as he finally parked in front of his building, but he nodded once, before looking intensely into her eyes, "You know I love you, right?"

She gave him the brightest smile she could before she whispered, "Yes, I know."

She leaned toward his seat, putting her hand behind the back of his head to pull him to her. Lucien closed his eyes as Elain took control of that kiss. She opened her lips slightly and their tongues entwined.

When they were both panting for air, Lucien bit her lower lip, murmuring against her mouth, "Do you wanna watch a movie?"

Elain kissed him again, longing for everything he could give her, "I'd rather do other things, actually."

"Mh," he put his hand on her thigh, caressing his way up to her hip, "like what?"

Elain was far faster than him to reach his hottest part, palming him through his jeans, "Like this?"

He smirked, moaning when she pushed a little harder against his lenght, "I like the idea."

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#pinky promise #pinky promise drabble #nessian fic #nessian #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elainxlucien #lucienxelain #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fic #angst

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kenbunshokus · 4 years

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this is a (super late) update to this fic rec post! i was planning to just keep editing and updating that post, but it’s been so old it no longer appears on tumblr search system and all, so here we are. be ready for some old school zosans in the mix

all complete

absolute favorites will be noted with a ♡

list will be updated as i find more

story count: 30 fics

last update: jan 5th 2020

CANON-VERSE

Goings On by clarify ♡

Zoro and Sanji understand each other, and sometimes have a very similar sense of humor. Even though they're worlds ahead of most, sometimes they can't help but to act their age.

easily one of my favorites. zoro and sanji are completely in character, being themselves and comfortable in each other’s spaces. for anyone who thinks zoro and sanji can’t get along in canon, this fic can easily prove them wrong.

Part Timer by 8ball ♡♡

Sanji really, really doesn't want to give Zoro a job at his restaurant. Zoro doesn't really even want to work there in the first place, but, well, there’s this thing with Sanji, and this thing with feelings and the whole thing is pretty damn stupid all together.

Zeff just wants grandkids. He’s too old for this bullshit anyways.

a wonderful, heart-wrenching, roller coaster ride of a post-series fic. this fic is not just a mere fic — it’s a zosan magnum opus with guest appearances by so many other characters, lots of crew hijinks and a must-read for everyone who craves for a happy ending for these good boys.

Say It Again by 8ball

Zoro tells Sanji how he feels. And then again. And again.

since we’re talking about 8ball i just want you to know i’d rec everything they’ve ever written, but special mention to say it again — a classic miscommunication trope fic done well where the miscommunication stems from fundamental misunderstanding of each other’s principles and views instead of just some plot-convenient coincidences. and soft zoro. god, he is soft.

The Wedding Night by cuethe-pulse (lj)

Zoro had never expected any of this.

major character death warning. don’t let the first few scenes fool you. note the warning; the last few lines were like a punch in the gut for me, except, you know, the good kind of punch. also, a quick rec of a drabble by the same author to soothe the pain after this one.

Roronoa Zoro: World’s Greatest Bug Killer by insaneidiot ♡

Sometimes, Zoro's life really sucks. He should've known better than to make fun of Sanji's bug phobia, though...

zoro’s internal monologue is hilarious — until today, this author is still my go-to expert on zoro’s voice, especially his more sarcastic side.

Quitting’s Easy by insaneidiot

Sanji decides to quit smoking. This is not quite so easy as he thinks it will be. Also, his crewmates (excluding Robin and Nami, of course!) are assholes.

fun, fun strawhat hijinks and oblivious sanji. the crew dynamics and especially sanji’s voice are pitch perfect. there’s a hint of luffy/nami that you can easily scroll past if it’s not your thing.

I can’t stop thinking that i can’t stop thinking by hieiandshino ♡

In which Brook changes tactics and Zoro is not amused. Everyone else is, though.

holy shit is this fic hilarious. i love comedy fics that manage to slip in thoughtful observations and character study in between the hijinks, and this fic pulls that off with flying colors.

The Walls See All by threesipsmore

Reiju hides a snail cam in her brother's room.

fun short fic from reiju’s pov. there’s never enough zosan set in whole cake island arc and this fic delivers.

Stormbird by Judin ♡

The Straw Hats' first landing in the New World is on Arashi Island, where it looks like they'll be spending a fun week attending the local festival and making new friends. Until they spot a strange pirate ship in the harbour, and Sanji starts behaving oddly. The Straw Hats become entangled with the mysterious Gently Pirates, a crew that harbour many secrets, and whose captain is a man out of Sanji's past who has the power to tear the Straw Hat crew apart.

it cannot be overstated how wonderful this fic is, and how it could’ve fit into the canon just nicely, like a better-written one piece movie, except with zosan. not only are sanji and zoro in character, every strawhat gets a spotlight and has pitch-perfect voices. brook is especially lovely in this fic.

Unintended Consequence by itsmylifekay

A group of marines charge, Zoro slices through them, and in that instant Sanji feels his own eyes grow wide. Because there, on the arm now outstretched towards him, steel glinting in hand, is the stupid bracelet he’d given Zoro. The bastard is actually wearing it.

there’s a reason this is the most kudo-ed zosan fic on ao3 right now — it’s so soft without being ooc, and there’s a quiet undercurrent of affection laid throughout the fic that will warm you up from the insides.

Somewhere Between Sorrow and Bliss by srididdledeedee

Sanji has never cared for winter.

He can see himself, is the thing. There are bits and pieces that poke through, but it’s not all him. It’s like staring in a fractured mirror. He knows, intellectually, that the person staring back at him is himself, but his face is splintered and his shape is distorted and his body is wrong.

a fantastic character study on trans!sanji and how he comes to terms with his identity with the help of his crewmates. supportive strawhats are always a lovely addition to a zosan fic

Give In To Love by libbylune

Zoro knows better than to think about it too much, but between the rowdy festivals and ancient unexplained temples on this island, it's hard to forget about wanting Sanji.

i love how this fic puts as much focus on the boys after the confession as it does before the confession. a good case fic with its own unique island adventure and i’m always a sucker for soft!zoro

Laundry by libbylune

Dealing with Sanji makes Zoro develop a lot of opinions about clothes.

there’s absolutely nothing hotter than bi!sanji who’s completely comfortable with his gender identity and sexuality. also gay disaster zoro fumbling his words whenever sanji is around is 1) accurate 2) hilarious.

Language of Swords by HaveMyWeedCookies ♡

It took them for a while but finally, Zoro asked if Sanji wanted to hold his sword.

i love fics that explore zoro’s relationship with his craft and his swords, and adding zosan into the mix is something i didn’t know i needed. an interesting outsiders pov zosan in the pov of zoro’s swords.

Ghost of a Chance by sabershadowkat

“I know, for sure, that I didn’t expect to miss everyone so much, including you.” Sanji cut a glance at Zoro and rephrased correctly, “Especially you.”

this fic handles tropes that are usually associated with character death fics, but manages to end it with a happy ending. zoro’s devotion here is heart-wrenching.

Idiot Romance by sabershadowkat

"This has to be a joke," Sanji muttered, poking at the colored petals. Zoro couldn't have just given him flowers.

a classic — this is literally the first zosan fic i’ve ever read — and a lovely one at that. sanji is oblivious and zoro attempts romance, not that zoro ever needed to.

festival night by thisislegit

“ANOTHER FEAT BY THE WORLD’S STRONGEST MAN, JORIRI.” The woman turned to Mr. Mohawk and with faux sympathy said, “Oh! Sorry, sir. Maybe next time. We can’t always beat the best, but we can do our best and that’s what matters. Do we have any other takers? ANY OTHER TAKERS READY FOR THE STRONG MAN CHALLENGE? HOW ABOUT YOU SIR? MADAM? YOU OVER THERE? ARE YOU INTERESTED?”

“What kind of shit name is Joriri,” said Zoro and Sanji in unison.

i’m an absolute sucker for fics that have zoro and sanji simply hanging out and enjoying each other’s company, comfortable in a way they couldn’t with their other crewmates, and this fic exemplifies that. just them being little shits and having fun with one another.

No Victory in Hesitation & the Past Has Its Lessons by EudaimonErisornae & vageege

Zoro has a lot of things he wants to say to Sanji, but he just needs one more day. || Zoro tries to fix a mistake he made in the past.

major character death warning. i died a little bit inside after reading this tbh. there are some devil fruits-explained time travel hijinks, but mostly it’s this looming, grim inevitability of death that’s written so pervasively throughout the fic that really got me.

Imperatives by dollcewrites

Zoro is confident in saying that Sanji is a man who doesn’t do what he’s told. Which is why, when a command accidentally slips from Zoro’s lips during foreplay, he is expecting to hear the cook’s scoff as he continues to do what he pleases.

i don’t tend to do pwp, but this isn’t just one — it’s a completely in-character piece about their relationship and dynamics.

when you say by bluewalk ♡

It's a long time in coming. Usopp can promise, but.

this fic is as much sanuso as it is zosan, and usopp here is — still very much usopp, but also a very beautiful take on his character as someone who spent a lot of time behind sanji’s back, and realizes that when he watches sanji’s back, he gets to see zoro’s, too.

a complete guide to falling in love by ThousandSunny

Sanji was trained in the Bridal Arts; this does not go unnoticed by the rest of his crew.

while the main ship is still zosan, the fic also focuses a lot on zoro and sanji’s relationship with the rest of the crew, and it’s one of those fics that really makes you realize how much of a family the strawhats is. a lovely read all around.

destructivity is a poison that run through our veins by wasteofmind

Zoro thinks that, someday, they are going to kill each other.

a dysfunctional take of their relationship. it’s fascinating in the same way a car crash is fascinating — there’s an undercurrent of something violent, something visceral. this is one of the fics that inspired me to write migratory animals.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Ocean’s Child by 8ball ♡

Here's the truth: Zoro couldn't swim. He fell in the water and sank like a stone because there had never been anyone to teach him how to move his arms. He forgot that if he screamed for help the water would get in his mouth, and he even opening his eyes hurt.

Here’s the other truth, the one that stays a secret: a mermaid saved him.

a fascinating retelling of the one piece canon with mermaid!sanji. it feels a lot like a love letter to the seas, and it’s mesmerizing how sanji’s mermaid backstory is seamlessly weaved into the one piece canon.

with you by Cirro

How to find your life partner in three easy steps: 1. Punch them in the face 2. Insult their cognitive abilities 3. Embarrass them so much they agree to marry you

a wholesome two-part modern au series. my personal favorite is the second part, where sanji brings zoro home to meet zeff — complete with the two of them teasing sanji in their own ways.

The Proper Reaction (or What To Do When Your Son Brings His Boyfriend Home by three_days_late

Holidays at the Baratie were always hectic, but it's nothing Zeff can't handle. Sanji's new boyfriend, on the other hand...

on the topic of meet-the-family: the only thing more fun than zoro meeting zeff is zoro meeting zeff and the entirety of baratie staff. also includes one of my favorite line about bi!sanji: “sanji loves nice girls and bad boys”.

Exclusive by cuethe-pulse

Zoro loves Sanji, Sanji loves Zoro. Zoro wants to be exclusive, so Sanji should, too. Right?

this is a circus/bakery au. yes, you read that right, and yes, it works. i went into this fic with a lot of doubts and came out very satisfied with how fleshed out everyone in this au is, and i’m forever in awe with how the author can set up an entirely separate, vivid universe with so few words.

Delivery by styx_in_the_mud

Sanji is stuck delivering pizzas when Patty is out of commission for a while. Zoro likes to order pizza after training. Both of them are sort of idiots, but Zoro can be smooth as fuck if he puts his mind to it.

a fun, in-character au with good ol’ banter and cute get-together.

The End of It All by xpiester333xx

Humans have been forced underground due to the effects of a chemical weapon that has made surface life impossible. Sanji lives in one of these underground colonies and though he dreams of bigger things his life has been mundane; spent following strict rules and obeying higher commands. Or it was, until a stranger shows up and changes everything.

the author labelled it as sci-fi au, but I personally think it’s more dystopian-like? either way, while this fic is on the long side, it manages to keep everyone in character until the very end, which is something that can’t be said for a lot of fics.

well, there we go! feel free to drop me an ask if you want to rec me fics or ask for a more specific/themed rec list; i’ll also update this post regularly !!

i also have an ao3 donutsandcoffee if you want to see my take on these dorks o/

#opgraphics #zosan #roronoa zoro #sanji #opfanfic #one piece #fic rec #mine*#mine: fic rec #//#zoro #op

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loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry III. Grito por dentro

HARRY’S POV

After Gemma called me, I tried to fight that longstanding negative feeling that finds a home at the pit of my stomach every time I talk to her. I’ve given up on trying to identify the nature of my own feelings, especially when they come from my sister or my past. I settle with knowing they’re not good. I really don’t want to go to Bellamond now but I can’t tell her that. I could never tell her or my mum that because they don’t deserve that. I feel like an spoiled brat every time I even think about it. I need another drink.

Danny’s been telling us about this girl he met last week for about fifteen minutes and at this point I don’t even know who he is trying to convince about the fact that he doesn’t miss his ex. We all know he does but it’s not my place to tell him that. He can try to fool as many people as he wants.

I hear him say something about how his apartment seems a lot bigger now when I think I see Sorry walking up the few stairs on our left. I frown. Am I going insane? Sorry is 21 years old and a student. I would have never made it here when I was 21 but then again I never had her face. I reckon if she wanted she could easily get inside, she just had to look at the doorman the way she sometimes looks at me and the man would even carry her inside on his shoulders. That’s the kind of eyes she has.

Danny grins at the girl who leans on the bar to order a drink and I smirk myself. He misses Cristina but he doesn’t deserve her. Danny’s my friend so I won’t say I’m happy that Cristina left him- because I’m not- but if Cristina was my sister, I’d be proud of her. That’s all I’m saying. He leans on the bar next to her and attracts his brother’s attention and only when the girl looks up at him I realize who she is. I then know that was definitely Sorry.

“What were you going to order?”

“Professor Gibbins.” Olivia smiles at him and I know my friend is smiling back even though he’s giving me his back. “Gin and lemon, please.”

Danny is very professional and I know he’d never cross that line with any of his students but Olivia is one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen and I know Danny thinks the same way. She shows Danny her perfect white teeth as she smiles before her grey eyes focus somewhere behind me and I see Indigo’s friend, Marie, holding Indigo’s hand as they both make their way towards the dance floor. I follow their route because my eyes can do nothing but follow Sorry. She wears a back fringe skirt and a matching top and even though I can’t see her fully because of the people standing between us and the fact that she’s moving, I can tell she’s showing the skin of her belly and half her back for the top ends where her ribs do. I wanna see her closer.

Next thing I know is Olivia’s disappeared from the bar because she just joined Sorry, Marie and Jason who was standing there on his own it seems. The four of them are talking and then I watch Sorry’s face contorting before her hazel eyes scan the crowd until they set on mine. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck bristling. She wears red lipstick.

INDIE’S POV

“Oh boy, you’re wasted, Indie.” Jason holds my shoulders as he makes me look into his eyes. “Do you want to get some fresh air? Maybe eat something?”

I shake my head. He has very beautiful eyes and he’s a fairly handsome man. His blond straight hair is now shorter than ever and his green eyes stare into mine.

“Jason”

This time it’s me who holds his shoulders as I make sure I have his whole attention.

“What?”

“If David hurts you, you would tell me, right?”

It’s very dark in the club, especially where we are standing now, but I can still tell he’s frowning. He takes a deep breath. We never talk about this. Every time I bring the topic up he gets defensive and we end up fighting. I know he doesn’t like to talk about it, but it’s precisely his reaction that makes me worry more. I do not want to anybody to hurt any of my friends and I reckon abusive relationships might be harder for us straight people to recognize on gay couples but God knows I know what I’m talking about and Jason does too.

“Jason, if he hurts you, I will kill him.”

I get ready for him to scold me for having insinuated that but to my surprise his lips tremble and he hugs me close to his chest. I feel his strong arms wrapping around my body and I rest my cheek on his chest but he doesn’t give me enough time before he pulls back.

“You’re tiny next to him, but I appreciate it, Indie.”

He grins at me and I smile back. My mood changes like the path of a leave falling from a tree in autumn. I might be a little drunk. I follow Jason’s moves and face my friends with a big smile but my eyes inevitable fall on Harry’s again. Danny, Mario and Harry himself joined us a while ago and both Ollie and Marie seem to be having fun with them. It surprises and pleases me on equal parts how Marie is letting go tonight and as I carefully watch her the corner of my lips turn into a smile. I still feel Harry’s eyes on me and it’s really making me nervous. I feel like I could puke but it’s not because I’m disgusted with his attention. Not at all. On the contrary, I think my entrance is somewhat slippery. I feel myself blushing.

“I’m going to order another one.”

Jason’s hand stops my arm and I glare at him. I frown and pull out of his grasp and he sighs again.

“I liked you better when you were a drunk like me and the girls.” He rolls his eyes so I go again. “David’s turning you into some boring guy without personality. It’s pathetic, really.”

I knew if I made him mad, he’d let me go. I walk towards the bar as I hear him calling Marie’s name. He thinks I need a nanny? I’m not even that drunk. Plus, I just wanted to get away from them and from my mentor’s stare. It’s embarrassing for me that he sees me like this if I’m being honest. He probably thinks I’m some pathetic girl trying to play the adult, or worse that this look is too much for me. I did tell Olivia it was.

I lean on the bar and wait for the waiter to look at me- I’m going to order a drink now, to piss of Jason and to stop overthinking- when a hand rests on my back. My head turns on a second and my eyes stop at the green of his. He looks cheerful and amused as usual as if he didn’t have one single worry on his mind.

“You’re wet.” He notices.

Great, in addition to pathetic girl who isn’t hot enough to wear skirts this short, I’m sweaty. I run my hand across the skin of my back he just touched and my mouth frowns on a grimace of disgust. The way he’s looking at me though… He seems amused but I’d swear there’s something else on his eyes, something darker, as his eyes roam my body from my shoulders to my heels.

I feel myself getting hotter and I think I just blushed again. I can feel my face and my neck on flames. I can’t understand why it affects me so much. There are handsome men everywhere but it might be the way he looks at me or his carefree attitude. I don’t know. It’s pathetic.

“You haven’t talked to me all night.” He confronts.

Is he hurt? Is he asking for an explanation? I just shrug. I don’t know how to tell him I’ve been avoiding him so as not to get soaked through my underwear. My eyes fall down to his exposed chest. The first few bottoms of his shirts are undone so I can almost see his chest and I’m surprised- and turned on- when I see some ink. I didn’t think he’d have more tattoos than the little black cross he has on his hand but I can’t control my tongue licking my own lip as I imagine how many more he might have. He looks incredible. What a body, what a face, what a mouth, what a man. I need to leave.

“Do you come around here much?”

Are we doing this?

“No. You?”

“I don’t go out much at all.” He shakes his head.

I can’t believe how of all the women I’ve seen around here. He’s giving me his time. I nod.

“What did you want to order?”

I want to tell him I don’t need him to order my own drink but the waiter shakes his hand so I choose not to mention anything. I wouldn’t have gotten his attention faster.

“Bulldog and tonic.” I tell him.

I watch mesmerized how his perfect white teeth break through his thin pink lips and I wish I could kiss them. What?

“That’s a good choice.” He compliments. “And a bottle of water for me, thank you, Sam.”

Horrified, I see him getting his wallet out from the pocket of his black pants and I stop him.

“No, no, no.” I raise my hand. “I pay for my own drinks.”

He grins.

“I don’t doubt it but let me pay for this one. Please.” He insists.

I shake my head. I will not let him pay for such a expensive drink especially when he has just ordered some water. Moreover, I’d pay for his drink too and if he wants a real one, I’ll offer too.

“Come on. You’re celebrating tonight. Your group’s formation. Take it as a birthday gift.” He smiles. He really is charming.

“But it’s not my birthday.”

He shrugs but ends up paying and I start doubting whether he just wanted me to pay for my drink for that reason or whether he is one of those idiots that now think we have some sort of deal. I can’t even believe I’m big-headed to think he’s trying to flirt with me. He hands me my drink and smiles widely.

“It’s got grapefruit.” His eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, that’s how you drink it.”

“It’s a bitter taste. Not everybody likes it.”

“I do.”

As if trying to prove a point I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip holding his gaze because I really am drunk. I shouldn’t even be drinking this but I’m really enjoying the way his eyes drop to my mouth. His breath seems to get caught on his throat and his nostrils flare if only a little. I feel a drop of gin falling from my thick upper lip to the bottom one and his eyes darken. I bring my fingertips to my lips and touch them once before I suck them inside my mouth. Am I making Harry nervous? The only thought makes me smirk and his green eyes move from my mouth up to my eyes.

“Thanks for the drink.”

I try to walk away but his hand wraps around my wrist and stops me. I feel an electric rush between my legs. He’s very close when I turn around and his musky scent makes my knees go weak.

“You’re leaving already?” His raspy voice makes me dizzy. “Indigo, do I make you feel uncomfortable?”

I don’t like the way his usual cheerfulness seems no to be on his eyes then. What sounded like a teasing question to me ended up sounding sincere and making him look even vulnerable to me. Did I make him feel left out? I feel my heart falling to the pitch of my stomach and I almost caress his cheek to reassure him that I very much like it when he’s around. Long Way 2 Go by Callum Knight sounds on the background.

“No.” I answer sincerely.

My movements are very gushy and I end up throwing some of my drink of my cleavage. Harry’s eyes widen as they set directly on my breasts and his lips part. I feel my entrance reacting to the way he’s taking me in. I don’t know whether I’m going insane or whether he really is staring at my body like that. I need to find out.

“It’s very cold.” I start and his breathing gets worked up. “But I think I didn’t stain the top, did I?”

I move closer to him showing him my cleavage. I can hear him breathing despite the loud music. I can’t take away the longing that he’d press me against the wall and press his body against mine. What’s happening to me?

“No, you didn’t.” He answers. “It looks incredible on you.”

“What? The gin?” I smile showing him my teeth.

“That too.” He chuckles. “But I meant the colour.”

“It’s black.” I frown.

“I know. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

We both chuckle at that and I tack a strand of my wavy hair behind my ear in a nervous tick.

“Do you always wear your hair up to the hospital?”

I just nod.

“And down when you go out?”

“That depends.” I shrug. “But most of the time, yeah.”

“You’re stunning with your hair down.”

I blush but just like knifes, the first notes of Calling cut me deep and hurt me like it’s the first time I face this. My lips part and my drink falls to the floor breaking into tiny pieces at both our feet. My eyes fill with tears.

Can we freeze karma and surrender our rights and wrongs?

I run.

HARRY’S POV

I run after her. I have no idea what just happened, there’s no way she took my compliment that badly. But I’ve never seen a woman running faster on heels and I’m afraid she’s going to fall any minute because she drank and she’s on top of those things that make her legs look endless but could get her killed too.

“Indigo!”

I follow her outside of the club and can’t barely keep my eyes open under the rain. It’s pouring rain but she doesn’t seem to mind as she keeps running. For a moment I think she might be running from me until she stops at the roadside edge and bends her chest over, resting her hands on her knees before she’s puking.

“Shit.”

I didn’t know she was that drunk. I don’t want to intrude but we’ve spent almost 6 hours together for the last two weeks and we’ve seen all sorts of things and she knows I’m a doctor for God’s sake so I approach her and grab her hair on a ponytail with my hand, resting my other hand on the exposed part of her back as she throws out.

Fuck, she’s frozen. We left in such a hurry none of us took our jackets. Her phone is ringing on her little purse that rests against her buttocks and mine starts ringing too.

“Danny”

“It’s Olivia.” She sounds worried. “Are you with Indie?”

Indie. I like the way it sounds. I nod but she can’t see me.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“She’s with Harry.” She says but I know she’s not telling me that. “Where are you guys?”

“We’re outside. She’s… Um, I think she doesn’t feel well.”

“Oh, I see.” Olivia takes a deep breath. “But… How long have you been outside?”

“Not that long. She just… I mean I’ll let her tell you herself but she’s throwing up.”

“Oh, fuck. Mmm… But how is she?”

“Puking, Olivia.” Is she deft or just drunk as fuck?

Indigo stands up and rubs the back of her hand against her lips before she holds her other hand out silently asking for my phone. I hand it to her.

“I’m going home.” She tells her.

She presses the phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she looks for something on her black purse until she takes a small package of tissues out and grabs one, cleaning her hands and her mouth.

“I don’t want to go back inside, Ollie. No, I’m good, I’m good. I had a lot of fun tonight. I don’t want to talk either. I just… I don’t feel well. I obviously had too much to drink.” She chuckles a little but I think she has been crying, even though it could also be because of the effort of throwing up. “No, Ollie, really, it’s fine. Plus, I’m with Harry… I’ll call you tomorrow. Listen, could you please grab my jacket? I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

I have been so focus on her conversation, trying to understand what just happened, that I kind of forget it’s raining but as soon as she hangs up and dries my phone with another tissue before handing it back to me, I realize I have water on my shoes.

“I’m so sorry that you had to see all of that.” She gives me a broken smile. “And I’m sorry that you got all wet because of me too.”

I don’t think she knows how incredibly sexy she looks right now but between her wet skin, eaten by goose bumps because of the cold, and the way her hazel eyes look even bigger I couldn’t look away even if I tried to.

“Do you want me to go get your jacket?”

She shakes her head.

“I can’t lend you mine… Because I don’t have one.”

She chuckles.

“That’s okay.”

For a few seconds we just stand there looking at each other. I don’t know what she wants me to do. She just told her friend she was with me. Does she want me to take her home?

“Bye, Harry.”

She waves her hand goodbye in front of her face but I frown.

“Where are you going?”

Her hazel eyes investigate mine and she bites her red bottom lip. She shrugs.

“Home.”

She lives about thirty minutes by foot from here. I know because I dropped her off there a few hours before.

“Do you want to share an uber?”

Her house is not on the way to mine but I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I left her go home alone, especially looking the way she’s looking and after she threw up. She shakes her head.

“I want to walk.”

I have a look at her feet. She’s wearing high heels and it’s raining. She wants to walk on high heels for thirty minutes under the rain with no coat on and no umbrella. I frown.

“But it’s raining.” I argue.

“But I don’t want to go home.” She confesses.

“Come over to mine.”

I can tell that took her as a surprise. It honestly took me as a surprise too but I hope she doesn’t reject me.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Impose? I’m inviting you over.” I sound pathetic. “I don’t… It’s not… We won’t do anything.” I regret my words as soon as I hear them.

Her mouth reminds me of my mum’s homemade little donuts. I swallow.

“Are you hungry?” She asks instead.

I shrug.

“There’s a pizza place opened at Sanbad Street.”

I start walking on the direction she just said and she walks next to me. We walk in silence for the first few minutes. I’m dying to ask her what the hell is going on, whether this is her usual Friday night, why she doesn’t want to go home, why she left in such a hurry; but I don’t know where to start and I don’t know whether she would even tell me.

“Harry” I look at her “can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How come you don’t have a girlfriend?”

My eyes set on hers and I watch her cheeks turn pink. Fuck, she’s adorable. When did she find out that’s an issue for me? It must be just a coincidence.

“Because you don’t have one, do you?”

“Of course I don’t have one.”

I shrug but I catch her little smile from the corner of my eye.

“How come you don’t have a boyfriend?” I fire back.

She shrugs too. I see the small pizza place less than five meters away from us and I’m glad to realize it’s completely empty. I open the door for her and she smiles to the pizza guy who smiles and nods at her before his eyes set on me. I understand he’s jealous but he could be more subtle. I can read the question on his face. How did he end up with her?

Indigo orders a bottle of water and tells me she’s not really hungry. I chuckle and order a piece of pizza for myself even if I’m not hungry either but it’s the only way we could take a seat here without having the nasty look from the pizza guy on us. Even though I think he wouldn’t mind it if Indigo sat here even if she didn’t order anything at all so he could look at her.

“I had a fight with my mum.” Indigo tells me before I can ask anything. “That’s why I don’t want to go home.”

I nod. She still lives with her mum.

“What happened?”

I look into the hazel of her eyes and I swear I’ve never seen a prettier thing. She talks to me as I devour my pizza.

“She… My parents are divorced.” It sounded as if she just remembered that and I nod because what she just remembered is that I didn’t know that. “My dad lives in Capitol and my mum lives here in Grad with my siblings and me.”

“You have siblings?” I ask.

She nods, smiling.

“I have an older brother and a younger sister.”

That time is me who nods. I think she can tell I don’t want to talk about my family and I appreciate her respect.

“My mum has a boyfriend now and don’t take me wrong, I’m very happy for her. She deserves to be happy but… Her boyfriend has a house in Portugal and she wants us to go there for the summer holidays and I… I don’t want to go.”

Her beautiful eyes beg me not to ask more on that and I respect that just like she respected me seconds before.

“I’m not asking her not to go, you know? I’m an adult. I can stay here on my own or I could even stay with dad if she didn’t want me to stay alone. I’m just asking her to understand and I really don’t think that’s too much to ask for.”

“Maybe it’s important to her that you go there because she wants the whole family to be together.” I shrug.

“There are other places to be together.”

Her lips are set into a thin line and her eyes are harsh. I don’t want her to get mad at me. I don’t know why she doesn’t like Portugal. I’ve never been but I’m sure it’s a very nice place.

“Why don’t you like Portugal?”

Her eyes set on her thighs and I regret having asked her that. I feel like she’s closed like a shell.

“Indie!”

We both look up and I see Marie kneeling down hugging Indigo. Indigo’s face is turned to me but her eyes are shut as her cheek rests on Marie’s shoulder. A few seconds later, Olivia enters the pizza place catching her breath. She mouths a silent sorry to me and I frown.

“I told her not to come in” Olivia tells Indigo with clenched teeth.

“No, it’s alright.”

“You can sleep at our place if you want. You know that.” Marie tells her.

She nods and smiles.

“Can you girls wait outside?”

“But I want some pizza.”

“We’ll have a sandwich at home.”

Marie carries Olivia outside while the blond one pouts dramatically staring at the pizzas.

“Forgive her, she’s still drunk.” Indigo smiles. “I just wanted to thank you for being with me and for the way you’ve treated me and to apologize again. I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” I smile at her.

I very much enjoyed this pizza and this conversation.

“Are you going home with them?”

Sorry nods.

“Good.”

I have a look at her friends. We can see her discussing through the glass. Indigo chuckles.

“Indigo” Her hazel eyes look into mine “Can I ask you to text me when you get home?”

Her face lights up and I can’t help but grin. The spark of her eyes has just come back after it went away inside the club before she ran outside and I followed her. She opens her purse and get her hand inside.

“Of course.”

She hands me her phone and I save my number before I grin and give it back to her. My heart is beating fast against my ribs.

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tothedarkdarkseas · 4 years

Note

For fanfic writer ask meme: E, J, K, M, P(for any fic or all your fics), R, T, X, and Y. (If that's too many questions, then you can split the answer into multiple posts. Also, no need to answer if you already answered these questions before.)

Thank you so much! I’ll put these below a cut just to account for the length, and I pray Tumblr works like it’s supposed to this evening! I appreciate you having an interest!

E: What character do you identify with most? Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

I really do not identify with Gorillaz characters and thank god for it, or most characters I tend to prefer! Haha, I know that might sound a bit strange, but I can think of very few characters I’d call “my favorite” that I also felt were a reflection of myself in a major way. Of course that isn’t implying that representation isn’t important, but just speaking for my own personal relationship to media– I live with myself all the time, I like people who live very different lives! Having said that, of the characters I write (all two, possibly three of ‘em) I’d say I identify with some of Stu’s worst qualities over anything else: being unambitious but craving reward, self-centered yet lacking in a concrete sense of self, dumb about mostly everything, overcompensating (to be fair, this is Murdoc as well) and so on. Despite picking fun at him I definitely have an affection for an unlikable guy like Stu, I do have sympathy for being sorta pathetic because I feel like I can access that.

J: What’s your favorite fanfic trope? Have you written it?

Hmm! That’s hard to say! At the risk of being an absolute knob, I don’t tend to be a fan of tropes, or at least what I think is meant here by “fanfic tropes” like uhh… the heat goes out and we have to share a bed, or that kind of thing? Is that what this means, the sort of repeated setups for fics? There’s of course a place for everything so I’ve got no real beef with more innocuous stuff, but I wouldn’t say I ever pick to read something because it’s got a “classic” trope. I’m definitely rife with tropes in the broader sense though, I’m rife with things I like and clearly just repeat, haha. I do not smoke pot, but I have a real affinity for characters who do, and this is evidenced by having like… half my stories feature that, haha. If a scene where two characters creep up to being intimate via sharing a joint/bowl/bong counts, that’s definitely a trope I’ve done and would probably do again.

K: Do you have a guilty pleasures in fic (reading or writing)?

Does the above count? I’d certainly call myself self-indulgent, haha, I like what I like and I don’t stray very far from it. I think unsatisfying or incompatible intimacy is really interesting and I honestly never get tired of reading or writing that. (Er, as much as I “don’t get tired” of writing anything, which is not saying much as I’m very bad and undisciplined.)

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with? Did it turn into a story?

The only AU I’ve written is Coffin Dancer, which is a story set in the early 1900s about Murdoc being a reanimated corpse and Stu being a gravedigger who buries/exhumes him. Sexy, I know, nothing hotter than… long paragraphs about digging. I think the occult element makes that one a bit weirder than anything else I’ve come up with. I’ve kind of entertained other AU ideas but they tend to be a lot more mundane, to be frank I just really like the characters as they are and I don’t want to change their dynamic too much. As a joke I once suggested something about a riverboat casino (Stu working there, Murdoc trying to pull a money laundering scam via currency exchange, potentially convincing Stu to go in on the scam with him) and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still think about it sometimes and question how to make it work, haha. I think it might be fun to do an AU again, but I think there’s just too much of a gap between what I’d want to do or be capable of doing, and what people actually want to read.

P: Where did you find the most inspiration for your story ?

Oh gosh, this makes it sound so important and I feel like the biggest jag going to pretend I’ve made anything that great or with particularly impressive roots, haha. A couple came from prompts, so that’s a fairly straightforward answer.

I first began planning Coffin Dancer because I was playing Graveyard Keeper on Steam at the time, haha. If you load up this game, you’ll quickly see there is next to no plot and it is simply a crafting sim. I just sorta… liked the setting, I guess? It is the 1900s and it does follow a graveyard keeper! Following that, I decided it would be a story about Murdoc’s skin turning from tan to green as it does in canon, but giving it a bit of a morbid tint, as opposed to the vague canon handwaves of Murdoc being “immortal” with no clear explanation of what that means.

Ampersands was mostly inspired by me being a big Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan and thinking it’d be fun to show a dynamic similar to Angelus/Drusilla/Spike, but heavily reworked to fit our characters. The first scene I imagined was the shoelace-tying one which has some resemblance to a shot of Angelus knelt at Spike’s feet while still mocking him, and that ended up being the very last scene I wrote (and probably one of the weaker ones.)

On Oysters and Black Water was actually the story that required the least research from me, as I already had an interest in oyster filtration and oyster reef restoration. By no means am I an expert nor is this story a genuinely educated look at this process (I am Genuinely Educated on zero things) but I definitely knew when planning a PB story that I wanted oysters to be used for a filtration system on the island, just as a little nod to something I find neat!

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

This really puts me at risk of sounding knobbish, so to start with: I’m not really a writer. Fanfiction writer is already not the most impressive title, but even that I feel is a little generous for me. I’ve written things, but I struggle far too much and have too little dedication to pretend it’s something I feel “cut from the same cloth” as these folks to do. The writers I admire have “influenced” me in the sense that I’ve wished I could write that way, and I’ve probably/definitely ripped them off.

Some will find this laughable, but I’m a fan of Joey Comeau’s writing style. I’ve enjoyed every book he’s published, in particular the short novels Malagash and Lockpick Pornography, and especially his… err, non-novel collection of cover letters Overqualified. (I think I’ve read Overqualified more than anything else on my bookshelf, but this is saying very very little as you can sit down and read it in about 30 minutes.) The darkly comedic way he presents these ideas, how he’ll expand on these very offbeat details and veer so far from the topic, then take sudden sharp turns into something uncomfortable is just enjoyable to me.

Also somewhat cliched now, but Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn is a beautiful book to me. Beagle’s writing style is ideal for the fantasy setting, the poetry in his prose does not tip over the “purple” line for me (but I’ve always been unclear where the line is, obviously) and I’d really… feel like I’d accomplished something if I could say anything half as powerful as this book.

Shirley Jackson, (famously) the author of The Lottery and (less famously) We Have Always Lived in the Castle springs to mind as well. The latter in particular has a gothic tone, an at times strange sentence structure and an unreliable POV, which probably influenced Coffin Dancer stylistically and everything else I’ve done in perspective/structure.

But as far as influences, nothing more directly influenced me than @elapsed-spiral‘s writing and characterization. Old drum I’ve beat before, but it’s simply the truth. I would not have tried to write fanfiction again (after… many, many years) if I hadn’t found Danni’s stories and felt that excitement of reading something truly special. Now, it’s important to note that Danni is British so they’ll come out in hives if I praise them too much, but sincerely nothing in recent years has made me feel a “passion” for reading or writing like Yearz did. The oneshots Fairy Vale and Beside the Sea also deserve special mention for just being goddamn phenomenally good character studies. “Influence on your writing” could be misleading, in the sense that Danni’s biggest strengths (namely Being Funny, Being Realistic and Knowing What You Are Talking About) are among my biggest weaknesses, and I don’t feel that stylistically we’re all that similar; on the flipside though, I think so much of my “improvement” is really owed to Danni, aaaand I don’t think you’d ever look at something I’ve written and miss the fact that it’s ripping off Yearz in one way or another.

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

Ahaha, alright, this jogs my memory and I do remember stepping on eggshells to answer this before! I mentioned above that I’m just not a big fan of tropes in general, but that means nothing as I don’t… have good taste. I never have. Famously bad taste over here. I don’t have any interest in raining on anyone’s fun or policing fan content, but I think we’re all perfectly fine just co-existing without feeling obligated to anything. More than anything else, in Gorillaz specifically I’d say there are some portrayals of their relationship that I find a little dodgy and I tend to avoid, but I recognize full well that many people may feel the same way about me! I also just like the characters to be compelling and to be themselves, whatever your version of them is. Of course my characterization is bonkers and mostly made-up and I have no expectation that someone else’s should resemble mine, but even if we have different ideas, I don’t like to feel you can slot them out and anyone else in? Which is why standard tropes like “coffeeshop” or “fake dating” don’t tend to be my favorite. Oh, I’m also a fuddy-duddy and I don’t love the nicknames, haha.

X: How would you categorize your fanfic reading? Are you a voracious reader? Do you carefully pick and choose? Something in between?

I’m not a very big reader these days! I’d like to offer you a good excuse here, but I’m just picky, truth be told.

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories? Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?

In total honesty, it takes all of about a month to become completely unsatisfied with anything I’ve written. That’s not like, a plea for sympathy, it’s just being objective. I write comparatively little and comparatively slow, so whatever growth that may happen is still pretty limited and it’s a little disheartening, even if it’s also my own fault for having poor discipline. I would not call any of my stories “good,” at best “good for what they are.” There are definitely some I wished did better, I wished with a stupid amount of sincerity would hit some magical validating number that would Suddenly Mean It Was Good… but after a little distance, I can always understand why they wouldn’t.

Hoooowever, some are undeniably worse than others. Based on both hits and kudos, my most popular story is my first one (I Couldn’t Feel, So I Would Touch) and this is truly baffling as it’s garbage. I mean, with no exaggeration I just think this is bad writing through and through, it’s truly just the worst thing I’ve written over the age of 20. I hoped I’d get this question purely because of this, haha, I feel such shame every time I see this story at the top of my statistics page. If we consider that to be the “most popular,” no, I do not tend to be most satisfied with the most popular story. We could define that differently though; for example, I think the story that got the most notes here and I received spectacular fanart on (a thing I just… can’t believe can happen, how nice is that?) was Oysters, and at a time I did consider that my favorite, I was incredibly proud of it when I posted, and even if I’ve grown exhausted by my overwriting too much to read it again I do still rate it pretty favorably compared to the others. So it depends on what constitutes popular! But if we’re just talking hits and kudos, sadly my stats page puts some of the worst stuff at the top.

#i've got to head to bed so i apologize if there are any glaring errors in this answer!#Anonymous #thank you very much for the letters! that's a kindness!

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takaraphoenix · 5 years

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I saw that you watched the new season of Lucifer. I want to know if you saw any big changes, between the first 3 originally on air cable show and the new Netflix made season?

I mean yeah, the biggest, for me, was that they gayed it up. But before I continue, uh, this is going to include spoilers, so if you asked this to see if it’s worth the watch and haven’t actually seen it yet, don’t continue reading and take my word that they did the representation better but screwed around a little on the individual character writing and I’m unsure if both are due to the change or just... whatever.

(Under cut for spoilered details in case you were just asking for an analysis from me and have in fact seen it.)

Yes, sure, the first three seasons had already made Lucifer bisexual. But it’s always been... tame bisexual. You know, to not make the conservatives and homophobes uncomfortable.

We got Lucifer waking up in a bed where a man and a woman were asleep, alluding to him having had sex with both without even having to show Lucifer touching another man.

We got... don’t let me lie but I think it was only one, or at most two, men being interviewed during the round-up of Lucifer’s past lovers. Again, the past lover is not even shown interacting with Lucifer.

During the entirety of seasons 1 to 3, we had Lucifer flirt with every woman who even breathed in his direction, having sex with nearly all of them and complimenting all that had boobs. Not once do we actually have him chat any guy up, not just not have sex with a dude, but not even appreciate them looking attractive. One time, he commented on a man being attractive but in a very purely heterosexual POV of “but I’m hotter than him”.

It’s... It’s always bothered me. And no, not because I need to see some hot steamy mlm sex-scenes. (I don’t like sex-scenes in general, fyi.)

But it bothered me because while they did enough to make it canon that Lucifer was bisexual, they never actually fully acted on it. They wrote him in a way that was always meant to keep the homophobes unbothered by it.

Even when Lucifer and Pierce went undercover as a gay couple, they doubled down hard on the gay stereotype of the Castrated Gay. The tame, sweet gay couple who is non-threatening for straight men. And even then, if was one hundred percent played for humor. As a joke. Haha, look at the Straight Men playing house!!! So awkward.

Well, Lucifer isn’t straight though. And the show did jackshit to actually make him act that way. (Seriously, I am not asking for him to lust after every single man in sight, like he does with the women, but he doesn’t flirt with a single dude, he doesn’t hook up with a single dude, even when being flirted at by men he always declines the advances with an “I’m flattered but you’re not my type”. And yeah, sure, there’s bisexuals with a preference for one gender and you can totally pretend that Lucifer simply has a preference for women, but you also gotta consider that Lucifer is not a real person but a fictional character written by writers and all evidence presented is less a “he’s a bisexual with a preference for women and we oh so happen to only show whenever he meets women who are his type!” and more “yeah no the writers are uncomfortable with a man being into other men/don’t wanna make the viewers uncomfortable with showing them a man being into other men so let’s tune that shit down to the bare minimum”.)

Maze too, she was mostly lip-service bisexual. I don’t recall her ever having anything beyond words hinted at her sexuality.

And while yes, they didn’t go further with Lucifer - in this season I genuinely understand it because this season was focused all on the Deckerst@r and on Lucifer and Eve. (Though I absolutely live for that moment where Lucifer Dirty Dancing-style lifts Dan up. That single shot was honestly gayer than all three precious seasons combined.)

However, they used Maze to focus on. They explored her sexuality. And not just in the “hot women making out for straight male viewers!” kind of way; they actually gave Maze feelings for another woman and explored them, they gave Maze a vulnerability and didn’t play her sexuality up to be hot, a joke or non-existent.

They actually acknowleged it, leaned heavier into it. And that in only ten episodes. They gave more honest, genuine and natural feeling representation in those ten episodes than in that entire previews show-run and I am honestly living for that. As a lesbian, I am absolutely living for seeing some canon wlw on screen, not played as a joke, not dialed back as much as possible so homophobes won’t be offended, but written in a genuine way, with feelings. I am absolutely living for that.

Also, and though this point is more aimed at season 3 than the previous two, I loved what they did with Maze. Season 3 really fucked her character over and was, in my opinion, just bad with her. Like, not even “this is a genuine arc and a natural development for Maze”, it just fucked her over to be a dramatic little bitch and this season did so much to fix that up, by having her rekindle things with Linda and Trixie.

Though one thing I noticed negatively this season was that there was an unreasonably large amount of miscommunication used. That... has never been this big on this show before.

But this season was largely driven by characters electing to not communicate. The way characters... elected to not care about each other, not pay attention to each other, not help each other. I really hated that, to be honest.

Like, we all know Linda knows the truth. And all characters learn that Chloe knows the truth but no one suggests that maybe Linda should go talk to her? Not Lucifer, not Amenadiel, not Linda herself. Only Maze, after multiple episodes, after actual weeks or even months (I’m unsure how much time had passed at that point), and more out of spite because she noticed that Chloe wasn’t taking her demon-nature very well. Uhm. Y’all could have just suggested that earlier and honestly saved so much time.

Same goes for Dan and Ella. Both clearly haven’t taken the loss of Charlotte very well. Both are clearly, evidently spiraling downward. And no one suggests any help to either of them.

Seriously, the way Ella lost faith in God - the frantic way in which she kept talking about how she “used to” believe in that stuff. And... no one, absolutely no one, felt alerted by that. I know Lucifer isn’t good with the big guy upstairs, but he cares about Ella and someone losing their faith like that? I know everyone always raises their eyebrows at how devote she is, I mean fuck me I do too because I have strong opinions on Christianity and they ain’t positive, but if someone I care about cares about this stuff and all of a sudden completely loses their faith? I get worried. I try to help, or get her to get help. And just... no one... no one did.

I don’t know, maybe I’m too sensitive about that, maybe I love the “Found Family” trope too much and think that this group should be tighter knitted, but where they took the characters in that direction really bothered me a lot.

So, on the overall, I really did like this season a lot! Definitely appreciate and can see that the portrayal of non-straight sexualities is thanks to Netflix there, no questions asks, unsure if what they did with the characters around unnecessary miscommunication is also due to Netflix or simply a really weird writers’ choice just like Maze’s characterization last season was a really weird wriers’ choice.

#Lucifer #Mazikeen #LGBT+ Representation #Anonymous

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klimtandbencbatch · 6 years

Note

A Rhodey POV where he sees his favorite white boy fall in love with a wizard???

i did 3rd person sort of Rhodey POV because uhhhh i don’t write anything that isn’t 3rd person lmaoooo

James liked to think that he knew Tony Stark pretty damn well at this point.

After all the shit that they’d been through together, he’d learned just about everything there was to learn. Tony was loud, brash, and obnoxious. He was caring, and kind, and breathtakingly smart. He was strong, and he was troubled, and he carried the weight of the world on shoulders clad in iron and steel. He liked late-night crime television and hated watching the news. He liked going for walks or flights late at night. He liked freshly-made sushi and Eye of Aga-Mocha ice cream.

Which should’ve been James’ first clue.

“Rhodey,” Tony called from the living room as James rose from the sofa during a commercial break, “can you bring me the Ben & Jerry’s in the fridge?”

“Sure, Tones,” James called back, opening the freezer.

And there was the face of one Stephen Strange, staring back at him.

Not that it was odd. Tony was a fan of Ben & Jerry’s, James knew that. But it was usually his own flavor that he stocked his freezer with. And yet, here stood a lone pint of Eye of Aga-Mocha.

“The Doctor Strange one?” James asked, picking it up out of the freezer.

A brief hesitation. Embarrassment, maybe? “Uh, yeah.”

“…Okay.”

—————

The second clue was during a training exercise.

James and Tony were sparring, keeping themselves fit and exercising parts of the exoskeleton to ensure that it was working properly. Tony was wearing parts of the suit to match, kicking and catching punches as they worked together. It was going pretty damn well. They had a pretty good rhythm going.

Then Stephen Strange walked into the room.

He was dressed in the traditional training clothes of Kamar-Taj - tight, red, and revealing in all the right places. His arms were bare and flexing as he wrapped his hands, preparing for his own sparring session with one of the Stark tech fight dummies.

Speaking of dummies.

James didn’t notice that Tony wasn’t looking at him anymore. Which is what led to his fist colliding with Tony’s jaw.

The distracted mechanic went down in a heap, drawing Stephen’s gaze from across the room. The doctor looked concerned, striding over quickly to help Tony sit up. Then his eyes went to James.

“Why weren’t you watching?” He asked, his eyes intense.

“Woah, okay, I was doing fine until doe eyes over here - “

“Rhodey, it’s fine,” Tony said quickly, laughing around the quickly forming bruise on his face. “Just a little - slip up, that’s all. We’re fine, doc. Thanks.”

Stephen hesitated before nodding, checking Tony’s eyes briefly with his own before rising, giving both Tony and James an excellent view of his ass in his tight robes.

Tony didn’t stop looking, which meant that he missed James’ stern look.

Stephen Strange, huh?

It was a bit unlike Tony to not go full-out when he was interested in someone. Around Stephen, he seemed almost… shy. It was kinda cute. And also really annoying.

“Hey. Earth to Stark.”

“Yeah huh?”

“Pay attention next time,” James demanded, helping Tony to his feet. “Now, c’mon. It’s my turn for blocks.”

—————

“Tony.”

Nothing.

“Tony!”

Nothing.

“Yo, Tones. Tony!”

Tony’s eyes finally made their way back to James, a dopey sort of grin planted firmly on the other man’s lips. He was still clutching his slowly-melting mozzarella stick, and the grease that James had been trying to keep off of Tony’s pants was sinking into the fabric.

Still he smiled like an idiot.

“Yeah, sugar bear?”

James rolled his eyes, taking the half-eaten monstrosity out of Tony’s hand and tossing it into the basket between them. “You asked me for a guy’s night out, and all you’ve been doing is staring out the window. I’m the guy, this is our night that you asked for. What’s up?”

Tony shook his head, reaching for his drink and having a sip. “Nothing. You’re right, it’s guy’s night, and I’m being - “

“Oh my God.”

Tony looked up at James, innocent confusion coloring his features. “What?”

James was looking less than amused. Much, much less than. About as far from amused as you could get. “We usually meet up at P.J. Clarke’s. The one on third. You like it because - “

“The grill’s hotter there, better burgers,” Tony interjected.

“Yeah,” James said flatly. “But all of a sudden, you wanna mix it up. I don’t say no, I tag along. I wanna see my friend, wanna spend some time with you. Catch up. But you invited me to a goddamn TGI-Friday’s, and it’s right around the corner from Doctor Weird’s magical tiki hut.”

“Sanctum Sanctorum,” Tony murmured into the edge of his glass.

“Don’t start,” James said, crossing his arms and sitting back. “Don’t even start. Tony, man, why don’t you just - ask him out?”

Tony grumbled something unintelligible, looking down into his ice water with something like contempt.

James sighed, patting his back consolingly. “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it anymore. Alright? Not right now. It’s guy’s night. But if you ever do this to me again, no more guy’s nights. Ever. Got me?”

Tony nodded, looking penitent. “Yes, Platypus. I promise.”

“Good. Now, you’ve got a massive spot of grease on your pants, and it’s driving me insane. Clean it up.”

—————

Tony Stark was falling head over heels for one Master of the Mystic Arts, and James had a front-row seat. It was sort of adorable, at times. Tony would find out Stephen was coming to the compound, and he’d clean. He’d order the whole place to be cleaned top to bottom, and then he’d spend nearly an hour in his bathroom making sure he looked alright. He designed new bots for Stephen to fight, and looked for any excuse to talk to the sorcerer.

And it was working out in his favor.

Stephen was opening up. He would come around when Tony invited him, even just for chit-chat over coffee and tea. He thanked him for every improvement made to his sparring bots, and taught him a few meditation techniques in return. They talked shop and watched movies, shared ice cream and ordered takeout. Tony went to the sanctum a few times a week when Stephen was busy, and James assumed they kept up their innocent little flirting game that played out in front of his eyes.

Stephen was good for Tony. He made him happy, and helped him sleep, and made sure he put something in his body besides coffee and protein bars. He took care of him, and respected him, and saw him as someone to be valued. It warmed James’ heart.

And it was, for lack of a better word, adorable.

It was less adorable when James had a front row seat to the flirting and pining really paying off.

There had been a fight. A big one. A sort of rogue wizard’s gang had started up in Central Park, and it had ended up taking more muscle than everyone had thought to put them back down. Stephen had been the hammer, in a way - a massive forcefield spell followed by levitation, collecting them all at once for easier disposal.

But it had taken a lot out of him. He was currently slumped over on his knees, coughing hard as the magic convulsed through his body and made its way out.

Tony was roughed up, too. He’d taken quite a few blasts of energy directly to the chest, and his armor was broken and twitching as it tried to patch the holes back up. But he didn’t seem to care about that. He only had eyes for the doctor.

“Tony, you need to sit down,” James warned, coming over to try to stop his friend. “Your chest, Tones - “

“I’m fine,” Tony wheezed, pulling out of War Machine’s grip. “I’m fine. I gotta - I just - Steph - “

Stephen looked up as Tony came over, wiping a bit of blood away from his lips. Tony fell to his knees, his hands coming to cup Stephen’s cheeks. James couldn’t hear anything they were saying, but all of a sudden they were kissing, pressed desperately up against one another as the supers around them began to pick up the pieces.

James just watched for a bit before realizing what he was doing. He looked away, ignoring the desperate breathy sounds that Tony and Stephen were making as they pawed at one another. Finally, they pulled apart, their foreheads resting together as they breathed, in and out.

“You two done?” James called, turning to look at them again. “Jesus, Tony, you’ve done this to me twice, now, man.”

Tony chuckled weakly, resting against Stephen, their arms twined around one another. “Sorry, honey. Can’t help myself sometimes.”

“Well, I was getting sick of watching you two fawn over each other anyway,” James said, waving Tony off. “You guys need a ride?”

Stephen shook his head, his eyes glued to Tony’s face, his entire countenance light and airy as he held the man of his dreams in his arms. “I’ve got it. We just - need a few more minutes.”

“Yeah,” Tony laughed, kissing Stephen’s cheek. “We’re just gonna sit here and make out. You don’t need to hang around.”

“Alright. But I’m gonna give you the obligatory ‘fuck with Tony and you fuck with me’ speech later,” James warned the sorcerer.

He got a small smile back from the doctor, and a nod of the head. “Of course. I’d expect nothing less.”

James smiled, flipping his visor down and taking to the air.

He loved Tony. He was his best friend, and he wanted nothing but the best for him.

Stephen Strange was damn lucky he was the best.

So far.

#ironstrange #fic fill #anonymous #stephen strange #tony stark #james rhodes #iron man #doctor strange #war machine #uhhhh #kissing #mozzarella sticks #grease #uhhhhhhhhh #friends to lovers?#idk #rhodey loves tony and wants him to be happy #he likes stephen #this is a mess

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

Text

Rubber Meets Road (Can You Smell the Smoke)? --Redux.

GOD I JUST LOVE VOMITING SO MUCH

Sorry, I get pissed off when I’m sick. Which I am. Send me asks to make me feel better pls.

Summary: A rewrite of a fic under the same title that I wrote a little while back (https://master-sass-blast.tumblr.com/post/181256328966/rubber-meets-road-can-you-smell-the-smoke), this time from Piotr’s POV.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: M for car crashes, arguments, and pettiness.

@marvel-is-perfection

He can hear the music in the background --some rock song, he’s pretty sure it’s from Halestorm, one of the bands he knows Ellie introduced you to--and right now all it’s doing is making him grit his teeth.

“I don’t know how to stop!”

He takes a deep breath and tries to keep himself calm. Shouting will help no one. “You will both return to X-Mansion this instant.”

And you keep arguing. And so does Wade. You both keep arguing despite the fact that there’s absolutely no way to justify what both of you have done.

Heads up their own asses, he thinks as he clenches and unclenches his fist. “Come home, Y/N. Now.”

Another barest start of an argument.

He inhales deeply, mentally preparing for another round of mental gymanastics. He exhales, slowly--

“Look out!”

“Shit!”

Terror spikes through his entire system as he hears screaming and the sound of metal screeching and glass shattering. He knows what’s happening --it’s what he was worried would happen--and it takes all the self-control he has not to crush the phone he’s holding from sheer fear.

The call cuts out, and he freezes for a moment before sprinting towards Professor Xavier’s office.

Wade is fine. Because of course he is.

And Piotr doesn’t like to think of himself as petty --of course he’s glad Wade is alright, Wade’s his friend--but he really doesn’t care about Wade right now.

Because Wade always comes out alright. And the people connected to him don’t. That’s how Wade works.

You’re alright too, technically. All of your limbs are still attached and you haven’t broken anything. It’s a fucking miracle, even if it’s one he doesn’t understand, given the constraints of reality.

He hasn’t been down to see you yet. You aren’t awake, and he does have classes to attend to, and--

Bozhe, pomogi mne, I am so angry. He grips his hands together and presses his forehead against them, trying to calm himself down.

He’s already gotten a lecture about your ‘wild tendencies’ from Professor Xavier for this particular incident, along with several looks and muttered, abruptly aborted conversations from his peers and colleagues.

And he’s tired. He’s so fucking tired of all the wild shit that you and Wade get up to. He’ll be the first to admit that some of it’s funny --lighten up, Scott--but he’ll also be the first to admit that the two of you are destructive.

You’re destructive.

He takes a deep breath, then smiles pleasantly when his first afternoon class walks through the door. “Privet. Pozhaluysta, zaymite svoi mesta.”

He does have classes to attend to, after all.

He takes care of his classes. And then he grades his students’ work. And then he gets caught up on grading. And then he reviews the syllabus for the year and makes sure everything’s on course.

And after that, the sun’s long since gone down and he doesn’t have anymore excuses to keep him from seeing you.

He sits back in his desk chair and rubs his face with his hands.

And he groans. O, Bozhe. This is too much to deal with.

He puts his teaching stuff away, stows the stuff he still needs in his bag, and leaves.

And goes to bed.

“You’re being an asshole.”

“Language, NTW.”

“She is your damn girlfriend--”

“Ellie--”

“No, don’t you fucking ‘language’ me, Colossus!” Ellie glares down at him, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t care how mad you are or what issues the two of you have. Y/N is your fucking girlfriend, and when your girlfriend gets into a car accident you go and see her.”

He keeps his eyes focused on his sketchpad, even though he isn’t really drawing much of anything. “I have other responsibilities--”

Ellie slams her hands against the table he’s seated at, forcing him to look up at her. “You’re being a piece of shit and you know it.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and starts tapping at the screen.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Y/N to let her know where you are.”

“Ellie--”

“No.” She glares at him again, unyielding. “You’ve stepped in shit. You gotta clean it up.”

And before he can do anything else, you’re walking into the library. “Where the fuck have you been?!”

“She’s here. Deal with this like an adult!”

He doesn’t look up at you. He can’t. It’s not just anger anymore; shame is welling up in him too, at his own actions and negligence.

He covers his own ass --double the shame. “I have many responsibilities here at mansion. You know this.”

“Are you fucking serious, Piotr? I was in a fucking car accident!”

He still covers his own ass --triple the shame. “I know. I distinctly remember calling you before it happened.”

“Are you-- you didn’t even come check on me! I was in the clinic overnight!”

He still --tries--to cover his own ass --quadruple the shame. “I have many--”

“No! No! Don’t you fucking ‘I had things to do’ bullshit me!”

He’s forced to look at you when you push his sketchpad down --normally a crime against humanity, but he knows he’s earned it this time around--and a shiver runs down his spine; you’re the perfect picture of fury, hell on wheels aimed directly at him.

He’s made his bed, and now he has to lie in it.

“I was in a fucking car accident! I don’t care how pissed you are at me, we’re partners! We fucking show up and make sure the other person is okay!”

The anger comes back, overriding the shame --and his common sense, considering that he chooses to cover his own ass again instead of apologizing to you for his selfish behavior.

Quintuple the shame.

“Partners also respect each other. Make sure they don’t do damage to each other’s reputations. That they don’t upend each other’s days.”

“Are you fucking serious? How could I have--”

“You have common sense,” he growls, anger burning hotter. He doesn’t like to think of himself as a man with a temper, but he knows he has one, buried deep underneath his convictions and gentleness. “Enough to know that doing every idea Wade suggests is foolish. Enough to know that speeding during rainstorm is downright idiotic!”

“You’re not even gonna acknowledge the fact that you didn’t bother to check in on me? You really think I deserved that?”

It’s out of his mouth before he can think about it or stop himself.

“As much as I deserve having to deal with each escalation in your behavior the longer you refuse to deal with void left by your parents.”

He sees it on your face as soon as the last syllable leaves his lips.

No, he saw it before that, well before that, but he didn’t stop anyway.

Sextuple --or whatever the sixth degree is--the shame.

He goes after you, but you’re faster than him, and you’re not even in the hall when he clears the flight of stairs that stop on the third floor of the mansion. He searches through the room the two of you share, even heads out onto the balcony and cranes his neck back so he can see the roof, but it’s no use. “Where is she?” he asks when he sees Wade watching him.

“Look, man, she doesn’t want to talk to you right now. Give her some space. Go cool off.”

He sighs, but concedes. He knows well enough that trying to force you into doing something you don’t want to is impossible.

His mother had always told him that he had issues with facing problems head on. That he had a nasty habit of letting things roll over him until they blew over --or until he blew up.

His older brother, Mikhail, had proven his mother’s theories about his personality time and time again. Mikhail, the brash and suave and asshole-ish older sibling had done his fair share of walking all over Piotr, until he got bored or Piotr snapped.

He knows --he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt--that this is one of those situations. That he’s running from the problem, hoping it’ll blow over and that the two of you’ll just go back to normal.

Shame to the seventh degree, special order just for him.

He sets up camp in his art studio, and he does that because he stayed out of the mansion all day and dodged your texts and calls for hours and hours and hours and hours--

And he hasn’t told you that he’s back yet.

Shame, eighth degree.

“What the fuck!”

He flinches, having been so deep in his own wallowing session that he hadn’t heard you coming. “Y/N--”

“Are you fucking serious? You go all day without answering any of my texts, don’t even tell me that you’re back home, and now you’re camping out in your studio? I was so fucking worried! I thought someone had gotten to you, like in Harmony or one of Magneto’s agents!”

And shame keeps coming. “I figured it would be better if we had some time apart. I thought you would not want to see me after what I said.”

“Nuh-uh. You don’t get to make yourself the fucking martyr of this situation, Rasputin. No one’s putting you in the dog house but yourself. So quit acting like a long-suffering saint!”

That one stings, and you’re absolutely right--

And he just shoves his foot deeper in his mouth, Bozhe, pomogi yemu.

“I may as well be, considering everything you put me through.” Zatk`nis, Piotr! Quit making things worse!

“This again? Are you--”

“‘This again?’” This time, the anger he feels is justified, righteous even. “Why do my frustrations only get a ‘this again?’ You are not only person in this relationship! Everything you do reflects on me! Do you ever consider how your actions make me look?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I’m such an ugly duckling!”

He scoffs. “Now who is being martyr?”

“You know what? Fuck off, Piotr. Sleep in your damn art studio if you want. Hope your bullshit keeps you company enough.”

Part of him feels a little cut that you’re being such a brat --and that you got such a good parting line in, to boot--but the larger, better, part of him knows that he made this situation as much of a shitshow as you did.

Go on, medvezhonok, he hears his mother say in his head. Go fix things. Quit running from the problem.

He sighs, and gets up to follow you.

You’re gone. No note, no warning. Your regular phone --not the burner that he knows you have and never let anyone else access, God knows where you got it from--is on the dresser in your shared room.

It’s a clear sign; you’ve gone to wherever it is you go whenever you need specialized training. It’s where you went when you disappeared after getting busted for using repression serum to control your episodes.

He slams his fists against the dresser with a growl, chest heaving with every ragged breath he takes. Enough. Enough of this. Enough secrets.

He pulls his laptop out of his bag, turns it on, and accesses your file through Xavier’s internal system used to monitor the progress and histories of all residents at the mansion.

He has special access, since he’s an X-Man and a teacher. He gets to see more than most of his colleagues and peers do, even. As much as Scott likes to act like the big man on campus, Piotr knows from several discussions with the Professor that he’s the one slotted to take things over when Xavier steps down, not Scott.

It’s something he’s never told anyone because he’d rather not look like he was lording it over anyone --Scott--but it does come in handy for situations like these.

Surprisingly --concerningly, alarmingly--enough, most of your file is redacted. There are definite signs that you have connections outside the mansion, outside of your parents, but everything’s been shuffled or outright blacked out.

Anger turns into fear as he keeps looking and hitting intentionally placed dead ends. Bozhe moi, what has she gotten herself into?

He’s no hacker, nor is he a tech expert like Ellie, but Piotr knows his fair share about computers. One doesn’t grow up in Russia --with a mother like his, at least--without knowing how to dig into electronic files when necessary.

It still doesn’t do much, but it does get him some phone call records between Professor Xavier and an unlisted number.

And a set of coordinates.

He sends the coordinates to one of the jets, then goes to suit up.

The confrontation, admittedly, goes worse than he expected.

You’re angry.

He expected that.

You fight with him.

He expected that.

And then the man that introduced himself as your uncle --but didn’t give a name, which isn’t a detail that’s lost on Piotr--tells the two of you to get out before the “feds” jump all over him.

And that sets off alarm bells in his head like nobody’s business.

It’s not something he ever talks about --not even with Professor Xavier, though he suspects that the man knows bits and pieces.

Alexandra Volodyavna Rasputina, formerly known as “The Invisible Hand.” KGB assassin during the Cold War, taken from her family as a child when her mutation presented and trained by the government to be a killer, spy, and asset to the motherland.

And after the Cold War... well...

No one gets out in Russia.

He doesn’t know the full story; he knows that’s for his own safety and good. He knows, just barely, that his mother has some sort of connection to the mafia --a deal he knows she had no say in, once the KGB was disbanded.

No one gets out in Russia.

His parents are farmers and his mother, officially, works as a curriculum translator.

She also took a lot of calls that seemed add shadows in her eyes and weight to her shoulders.

Because no one gets out in Russia.

He purses his lips as he watches you fly off. She is so damn stubborn.

It’s one of the --many--reasons he loves you, is head over heels for you, even if it rankles him every now and then.

“Word of advice,” the unnamed uncle says as he heads back into the farmhouse that seems to be very deliberately placed in the middle of nowhere. “Grow a damn spine, Piotr.”

Everything that comes out in the kitchen is gut-wrenching, but not surprising.

The man at the house is your uncle. He’s a former non-voluntary government operative that managed to escape his handlers and lives under the radar for his own safety.

Or, he did, until Piotr literally flew a massive jet out to his property.

“Go.” Ellie practically shoves him up the three flights of stairs to the room the two of you usually share and into the bedroom. “Get some sleep. If I catch you working, I’m spiking whatever drink I give you with sleeping pills.”

He smirks, but waves off his trainee and promises to rest all the same.

The door closes behind him, and then he’s alone with his thoughts. You fucked this up, Piotr. Big time.

“Who is he? Who is he to the Institute?”

Professor Xavier sits back in his wheelchair and steeples his fingers. “You know I can’t tell you much.”

Piotr places his hands on the desk separating them and leans towards the Professor. “If I am going to take over for you someday, I need to know.”

Xavier sighs heavily, then nods and motions for Piotr to sit. “Unnamed is one of our... off the record contacts. He handles... certain situations for us, and we provide him with various favors in return.”

Piotr’s eyes narrow. “He is a hitman.”

“There are groups, adversaries, out there that are beyond our capabilities, Piotr,” Xavier says patiently. “Mafia families, drug traffickers, assassins. People that are all too happy to cast their sights on the mutant community. Unnamed makes sure that those groups stay clear of the Institute and the families that use our services.”

“I thought we were against killing. Against violence.”

“We are. Those who serve as X-Men are expressly forbidden from killing.”

“And yet we hire contract killer.”

“I think you will find, Piotr, that handling situations like the Institute’s requires two sides. Some of us have to stay clean, above the fray, so that we don’t lose our licensing to work with children, many of whom are often abused and become permanent residents at the Institute. To safeguard that, we also need people like Unnamed, to keep us safe and make sure that we can keep future generations of mutants safe.”

Piotr frowns. He can see the logic, see the necessity, but-- “You forbid Wade from killing mutant traffickers. Child traffickers. Abusers. Where is difference? Why not have this ‘Unnamed’ handle those for us?”

“Unnamed can’t do every single job for us. Even he has limits,” Xavier says, infuriatingly placid.

“Da, but that does not answer my question. You already have someone killing for us. Why not have us do the work instead?”

“I don’t know, Piotr. You tell me.”

Grow a damn spine, Piotr.

He stands, plants his hands on the desk again, and looks Xavier in the eye. “Nyet. You made rule. You tell me.”

“We can’t work with children if we kill people,” Xavier says after a moment. “And, after a certain point, the public needs to see mutants in a positive light. We can’t offer that if we kill.”

“So, politics,” Piotr says.

“I hardly believe that safeguarding children is politics.”

“Perhaps not, but doing things for sole sake of image is.”

“Piotr--”

He shakes his head. “I do not kill because I know taking lives always puts others in danger. There is always collateral. I do not kill because I believe I do not have right to take life. I can agree with safeguarding children, and I can agree with making sure the Institute has longevity, but what you are doing is wrong. You are using a man as your gun. That is still killing.”

“Sometimes, death is an unfortunate necessity.”

“And what happens when it comes back to bite us in ass?”

Xavier raises an eyebrow at the language choice, then lowers it when Piotr doesn’t drop his stare. “Ostensibly, that’s why we hired Unnamed. To make sure it won’t.”

Piotr shakes his head again and moves to leave. “You can’t know that won’t happen.”

He sits out by the back door and waits. He knows Nathan’s taken you out to blow off some steam --he can hear the gunfire, even from where he’s at--and he wants to catch you when you come back.

It’s time to make things right.

He’s got time to kill before you get back, though, so he’s --perhaps fortunately, perhaps unfortunately--left with his thoughts for the time being.

It’s difficult to process the reality that Xavier has a hired gun protecting the Institute. He understands keeping people like the mafia off their backs --he understands better than anyone else here, thank you very much--but there’s still something hypocritical in it.

And yet, Piotr has his own kill count. Some of it’s unintentional --ricocheting bullets bouncing off his armor and hitting an opponent, for example--and some of it was... careless...

He’d thrown a man against a wall during his efforts to retrieve you after you’d thrown yourself through a plate glass window during a mission, and unwittingly broken the man’s neck.

Piotr likes to think himself a gentle man. Something close to a pacifist, even. He doesn’t like violence, doesn’t like killing, doesn’t like hurting people if it isn’t absolutely necessary.

And warding off traffickers and mafia members and drug lords and other such unsavory types is a necessity. The students need it.

And, on a different level, he knows that if it came down to it, he’d kill to protect you --and whatever future children the two of you end up having.

But that is not matter of violence, he thinks, remembering what his own papochka told him about a husband and father’s duties in protecting his family. It is matter of principle. Of honor. Of making sure my family is safe.

And anyway, it’d be defense of others at that point, which --legally--wasn’t murder, and certainly wasn’t senseless violence--

or hiring a hit man to safeguard a school.

Bozhe moi, Piotr thinks as he rubs his face with his hands. I am getting nowhere fast with this.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to get anywhere else with it, because at that moment you and Nathan come strolling across the back lawn.

His heart breaks when he sees you walking with your head down and shoulders hunched in, then shreds when you lock eyes with him and turn away, crying. He stands and closes the distance as slowly as he can manage, trying to not crowd you to suddenly.

“No! He’s gonna hate me, and--”

“Myshka.” He rubs his hand over your back first, letting you adjust to his touch, before moving to your arm and turning you around.

He knows that apologies aren’t an easy thing for you. It’s not an issue of pride, but of trust; he knows that your parents have never apologized for anything they’ve done to you, and that it’s left you defensive and wary of any situation where you have to apologize for anything.

He also knows that most the apologizing you did as a child was during painful, brutal beatings, which is why he’s being deliberately slow and gentle right now, making sure that you know he won’t force you to do anything.

He knows he’s apologizing first, and he’s confident that the gesture will be enough of an olive branch to win your trust. Either way, it’s no skin off his nose.

He cups your face, small and delicate in his hands, and wipes the tears trickling down your cheeks away with his thumbs. Then, he stoops down and presses his lips against your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

He has to catch you in his arms when you crumple against him.

“Piotr --I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

“So am I, myshka. So am I.”

You sleep for a while, in his arms. Where you belong.

He dozes for part of it, then chases his thoughts when his body decides that napping is a foregone activity. He lets his mind run around in circles about your “unnamed” uncle until he gives it up, deciding that there’s nothing he’ll figure out tonight --or any time soon, if the ethical stalemate he keeps hitting is anything to go by.

And then you’re waking up, so clearly there’s something to be said for the serendipitous timing of the universe.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Piotr --babe--I’m really sorry. I’m sorry about going along with Wade’s idea when I knew better, and I’m sorry for stealing the car and wrecking it, and I’m sorry for yelling at you in the library and the art studio, and I’m sorry for flying out to my uncle’s without telling you and trying to pass it off as following your idea--”

“It’s okay, myshka. You are very much forgiven. For all of it. And I am sorry for my part in all of this. I should have checked on you after the accident, and I should never have said what I did about you and your parents.”

“Well, I mean, you weren’t wrong.”

“Accuracy and moral correctness are two different things. Instead of talking to you in private, out of love and concern for you, I said it out of anger to hurt you, and I am so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” He adjusts his posture a little when you tuck your face into his neck and runs his hand over your hair.

“It’s okay --I mean, we’re…” You sit up. “Can you turn the light on?”

He does, and his heart aches at how tired --ragged--you look.

“Are we… are we still us? Am… am I still your myshka?”

And here it is, the part he’s been dreading.

Don’t run away from your problems, medvezhonok.

He kisses your fingertips, all together and then one by one. “You will be my myshka for as long as you want to be.”

“I’ll always want to be your myshka.”

Relief courses through him, and he pulls you into a hug. “Then you will always be my myshka.”

Because you always will be, in the end. No matter what problems the two of you face or what fights you have, you’ll always be in his heart. He’s known it for a long time now, and stopped trying to fight it too long ago to make trying to do so again a lost cause. The only way you’ll stop being his myshka is if you say so.

He kisses the top of your head and drinks in the comfort of feeling you in his arms.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #angst #tw: car crash #tw: abuse #piotr is a human that has his own issues #and this piece examines that #and sets up some future plot points as well for other stories #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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phantom-thieves-imagines · 6 years

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Chapter 1- Let the Game begin (Akira Kurusu x reader)

Could you write a scenario with Akira and female! Reader, where she is a shy and quiet girl from the Real world.. and one day, she suddenly meets her video game crush, Akira, for real after completing his game with the true ending? From the Reader's POV? Please?

I might make this into a long running fic, oh boy here we go

female reader ofc, tried to make her as general as possible

and by ‘readers pov’ i assume you mean first person, sorry if that’s not the case, but enjoy

Please let me know what you guys think of this ! Feedback is my kink oof :0!

-mod goro

Spoilers for p5

Wake up, get up, get out there

Ryuji nudged Akira who smiled. “Yeah.”

Raise your voice against liars Feed your anger like fire

Akira opened up the hatch at the top of the bus, the wind whipping at his hair vigorously.

Why does nobody want change?

He stared out onto the sea, the road, the clear blue sky and the world. He smiled, hands on top of the bus, feeling the wind blow through his hair, the sun on his face, enjoying the world for what it was.

Just imagine you're out there Swatting lies in the making

Akira looked towards the blinding sun, a happy look on his face as he spoke a wordless goodbye to everyone.

Can't move fast without breaking

The bus zoomed off into the distance, and that was it.

If you hold on life won't change

---

I put my controller down, tears flooding through me like a fountain. Happy yet sad.

It was over. My journey, helping Akira had come to it’s conclusion- he was finally free. The game that had taken over 100 hours of my life. The game I cried, laughed, felt fear and anger with was now completed.

Wow.

It was late at night, though I doubt I’d get to bed any time soon. I went online, ranting about the game to people, warmth spreading as I scrolled through pictures or comics of the characters who were practically my friends.

It was a bit melodramatic, how slow things grinned to a halt even after the console was turned off. My mind was storming. With the game, the events, the characters...it all was overtaking my system.

What happened to Akechi, Akira, Yusuke, Haru, Ann, Futaba, Makoto- it was all flowing into me, like my whole body was living to process and revolve around them.

The bad parts too. The ones that weren’t perfect, the ones that could have used some tweaking or correcting. How I would have changed details in the game. If I was in that situation.

Overall- It was an amazing experience, winning my heart- or maybe taking my heart would be a better choice of words.

By the time I finally did (reluctantly) close my eyes it was well past midnight. I’d be dead on my feet at school tomorrow and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

Troubling enough as I went to lay down I couldn’t help but feel...uneasy.

Not as in a monster hiding under the bed type of unease, but unease as in my body didn’t accept sleep or the conditions of my sleep. It was like floating in the water- parts of me above and the others submerged. The two sides were fighting over which one was superior. Above. Below. Above. Below. Constant, calm fighting. It unnerved me.

And then suddenly it just.

All.

Dissipated.

.....

...

This story is a work of fiction

Or is what is intended to be.

For many it is considered a fiction, but for many more it is their form of reality.

In turn, how can any of us prove which things are a reality and which are not?

My bad, I am getting off topic.

The only thing required is an acceptance of your form of reality and....

Your mind

Are these terms acceptable?

...

....

I jolt from my reprieve with a gasp. The pounding of the blood in my head is so loud that for a few moments it stuns me. I guess the pulsation prevented my eyes from noticing anything. My touch comes back first. Smooth, wet bumps from the pavement run along my finger tips. Speckles of sand are dusted between the cracks in the rock, they stick to my palm when I pull it away. The next thing that comes back is my sight, blurring into focus like a camera. It’s dark out, the outlines of the nearby building illuminated with a blue neon hue, further back in the distance a golden streetlight shines in a cone-like shape in an intersection. There’s a boy standing nearby, hoodie pulled up over his forehead so I can’t see much of him. I only realize there’s another person standing right in front of me when he snaps his fingers in front of my nose. Then, sound.

“Hey! Kid? Can you even hear me?” His voice is gruff, a clear umbrella hooked over his shoulder, the rain rolls off of it in memorizing streams.

It takes me two blinks, out of confusion and because of the watter dribbling in my eyes before I find my voice again.“Ahh...?”

The man makes a clicking noise. “Damn...” he bites his lip, before reaching out his hand. “Here, let’s get you out of this rain. Hey, Kid, help me out.”

The one with the hoodie helps the other man drag me up. I nearly fall down instantly. The man curses, letting go of the umbrella to use both of his hands.

They half drag half help me down the street underneath the overhang to a wooden door. The man fumbles with his keys, there’s barely any light over here other than that coming from inside, just enough to let me see the glasses that hang on his nose and the scruff of his beard.

The door opens and we all scuffle in, soaked.

Hoodie-boy sets me down in one of the booths, water dripping onto the leather seats below.

“Man, what were you doing out there?” the bearded man asks, I turn, as he rumbles through the cabinet, pulling out towels. He tosses one to the other boy, who catches it mid-air.

“Uh...I...” What....was I doing out there. I try my best to remember. Everything feels so, otherworldly. Like I’m not really in my body, just floating above it. I try to think. Try to remember why or how I ended up nearly drowning in the rain in the middle of the street. What I was doing before that. I run through every possibility I can think of before I give up. I simply don’t remember.

“Let’s start off with something easier then.” He bearded man hands me a towel as he wipes his neck, pulling up a chair to the booth. “What’s your name?”

The boy removes his hoodie from his head and like lightning, I remember.

“Akira?” The words come out of my mouth before I even think about saying them.

The bearded- no, you know- Sojiro, quirks an eyebrow. “Akira? That’s your name-”

“Ah, no. Uh, it’s-” Wait should I even use my real name? I mean...I don’t think there’d be a problem with it but still I-

This is persona 5. My chance to be a different person. A chance to start from a fresh beginning.

Next to the Sayuri painting- or where the painting should be, there are a bouquet of Roses. Crimson red in color. They remind me of Akira. Similar to the flowers that you saw Haru grow, crouched low and her breath fanning the petals. Roses were beautiful and elegant. The flower itself was silk to the touch and the thorns were rough and would pierce skin. You had to cradle it gently, holding it in your hands in a right way otherwise you’d harm yourself. Rose.

“Call me Rose.”

---

And hour and a half of explaining (or at least trying to) why I was alone in the rain, Sojiro thinking about what to do with (another) soaking wet child in his cafe, and a stern talk of ‘no funny business’ later I found myself laying on Akira Kurusu’s bed, doing the best to dry my hair.

“My name’s Kurusu Akira.” He had said, when Sojiro had left out in the pouring rain to run to his house. “Nice to meet you, we could have maybe met somewhere drier.” A smile lined his words. Complying with Sojiro’s words he was also suffering, or soaking with me in the bottom floor of LeBlanc. Water dripped down from his black locks onto his glasses, he frowned and then removed them, wiping it dry with his towel before resting it on the wooden counter.

“Nice to meet you too.” I murmured. The amount of force it took me not to run out in the rain again and scream was overwhelming. The boy (who I may or man not have forced to go to the bathhouse more times than necessary because I wanted to see him with just a towel wrapped around his waist) that I had spent months playing as, and knew his motions like the back of my hand, was sitting in front of me, shaking the water from his ears.

Oh crap. This is real isn’t it.

Akira mother fucking Kurusu is real, and he’s sitting in front of me. I need to say something. Jesus I need to say something I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t.

Yet my mind was short-circuiting. Every breath I took seemed to take more effort than necessary, my hands twisted with themselves, confused as to what to do and I needed to move otherwise I’d start twitching.

Anxiety curls itself around my neck, like a snake, it refuses to let go.

“Since you don’t remember a thing I guess you’re gonna be rooming with us for the night.” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Hope you don’t mind that.” Despite his light words he was still studying me, sizing me up with a serious look on his face.

“I’d rather be here than outside and catching pneumonia.” He laughed lightly at that, Oh good god. He was even hotter in person. His hair curled back around his glasses, half wet.

The cafe is just like I remember it. It’s interesting seeing it from another angle but the layout seems more or less the same, the ceiling fans spinning slowly, round and round and round.

Round and round, as the hands of the clock tick and endlessly count down time.

Tick tock, tick.

“What....day is it...?” I ask slowly.

Akira looks at me with something mixed between concern and skepticism. “April 13th.”

13th. The volleyball rally at Sujin happened today. Which means tomorrow will be gathering information from Shiho before she...

“Okay, thank you.” I said quickly.

That all happened within a span of an hour. Now I’m laying on Akira’s bed, as he takes the hard spot on the not-so comfortable couch. His glasses are off, laying on the desk by his feet as he has his arm tucked under his head as a pillow. He’s wincing at his phone and tapping. I assume to Ryuji, who else would it be.

I sniff the clothes Sojiro gave me- long pants and a tank top, probably Futaba’s. The though of the girl holed up in her room, living in her own filth and blocking out every sign of natural light. The girl who drowns in her mind and grief daily. Every waking moment thinking about joining her mother.

I grit my teeth. I make a mental note to save her as soon as I can.

“Hey.” Akira says, shifting. “I’m heading to sleep, wake me if you need anything.”

“Okay.” I say, because I can’t think of anything else. What are you supposed to say to a person who just a few hours ago- was nothing more than a bundle of code on a cd?

He rests easy, eyes shutting as he whole body relaxes. His chest expands and contracts slowly, in the dark of the attic it’s hard to see but it’s there none the less.

This is everything I could have wanted- Akira existing, being real in the flesh and blood and finally being able to tell him just how much he means. When people beat him down with rumors and to yell and plead with him to get back up. After everything this rotten world has done to him to finally be able to gently sooth his aches. To finally see his monotone mask fall and to see the emotionless protagonist slip away and show his agony.

I bite my cheek hard, resist the urge to slap myself. That’s just wishful thinking. I have a whole other huge ass problem as is why the fuck am I here and how am I ever gonna get back home.

I wish I was more worried about it, but I’m not.

I guess? It’s because I know my world, the one where I was trapped in my shell constantly. Where there are no such things as personas or changing hearts- that there is really no hope for us. That I’d rather be in a world where at least I know there’s a chance of this world being good.

I hope, I know.

Akira’s breathing settles, and I fall into a dreamless slumber.

Late into the night, unbeknownst to the world, a phone, my phone, lights up.

The hypnotizing red eye appears, then is gone.

.....

....

I point at him. Steady my hand. It’s an easy thing to do, really.

Take aim. Kill the murderous, filthy, insane traitor.

“It’s okay.” he croaks. His eyes are glazed, he’s in pain but he’s doing a good job of hiding it. “We both knew this would happen, at some point.

I don’t think I don’t want to think. Don’t want to think about the events that lead to this. My own actions that caused his destruction.

How ironic, Yaldabaoth would know to cause my demise from my greatest joy.

Destruction what a funny word.

“I’m sorry, Akira.”

I am a ghost. I shoot.

#kurusu akira #akira kurusu #persona 5 #persona 5 imagine #persona 5 imagines #persona 5 fanfiction #persona 5 x reader #akira kurusu x reader #akira kurusu imagine #ren amamiya #amamiya ren #p5 #long post wooooh boy #i spent a week on this and even put off the goro jealousy fic #also speaking of goro im definately gonna put him in here at some point ahaha #sucks to be a goro hater #mod goro

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surrounded-by-superheroes · 6 years

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The Soldier and the Assistant Ch. 6

Chapter Five.

Summary; You run into a mysterious stranger on the street while running late for work and spill coffee all over yourself in the process. Later, you find out the man was none other than James Buchanan Barnes and your company is about to write a story about him. The thing is, he’ll only talk to you. As you get to know one another, you both start realizing this relationship is a little more than work. Will both of you let the romance bloom? Or kill it before it starts?

A/N; Sorry for ending the last chapter on a sad note...but perhaps this one will renew your spirits? A bit anyways...

Warnings; Language

Tags; @farfromjustordinary @ria132love @karlilarki

Words; 2,155

Chapter Six

Bad Decisions

*Bucky’s POV*

Steve’s been rubbing his temple for a couple minutes now and I’m impatiently waiting for the speech he’s going to make. “You did what, Buck?”

“I told her we could pretend it never happened. Look, I don’t know what else I was supposed to do. She wouldn’t be taken seriously as a journalist if she…dated her first big interview subject!” I defend my actions as Steve stares at me, deadpan.

“Did she say that? Verbatim?” He questions and finally releases his temple. I grind my teeth together and Steve sighs. “No, she didn’t. What the fuck, man?” Worry and irritation rise up in me at Steve’s words. “A gorgeous girl kisses you, manages to actually like your dumbass, and you send her away? Damn, you’ve lost your game in a hundred years.”

“I already feel like a prick, punk. Just tell me what to do about it.” I specify, shoving my hands in my sweatpants pockets dejectedly. After Steve got home from convincing Natasha not to just kill Jim, although I wouldn’t have minded, I told him what happened. He’d immediately sat down at the breakfast table where we both still sit as I wait for him to fix this.

“I think you screwed it up and now you need to fix it.” He advises unhelpfully and stands with a heavy sigh. When he passes by me he pats my shoulder. “You don’t want to lose this girl, Buck.” Steve says before walking into his room and collapsing onto his bed. I can clearly hear the thunk. Groaning, I put my head in my hands, shoving my fingers through my hair like you did hours ago.

“Ugh, shit.”

*Reader’s POV*

The ride home is quiet and uncomfortable. First, the cab I flagged down smells faintly like vomit from a crazy night past, but also because I feel slightly like a ditched prom date. Pulling my shirt up over my nose and mouth, I take a deep breath and drown in Bucky’s scent. Bar soap, spice, and something bitter swirls in my nose before I realize what I’m doing and drop the fabric. As soon as we reach my apartment I nearly throw the money at the driver before jumping out of the car. I head up to my place and shut the door with a sigh.

“No place like home, I guess.” I mutter and lock the door before heading to my couch, grabbing my laptop from under the cushions before sitting down. I do the only thing that really makes sense to me and that I’m good at; I write. Thankfully, I remembered to take the notes from talking with Bucky from his apartment and they’re more than enough to get me started. Words usually come relatively easy to me, but no words have ever flown into my mind and through my fingers as quickly as the words to describe Bucky Barnes. I work well into the evening until my fingers ache and I’m about to throw up from all the coffee I’ve been drinking. Like a drunk sloth, I move my shit out of the way and unfold my couch into my bed, then snuggle down into it. Falling asleep is easy with the smell of Bucky all around me from his clothes but sleeping through the night turns out is a bit harder. My brain keeps me awake, as well as burgeoning nightmares, so when Adrian calls and invites me out I go.

* * * * * * * *

“You’re here!” Adrian shouts as soon as I enter the club, fighting through the throngs of swaying people to reach me and reel me to the bar.

“I’m not going to ditch the person who keeps me alive.” I tease and see realization appear on his face.

“Ah, yes. I took the liberty of ordering you a cocktail that tastes like your usual coffee. You’re welcome.” He says as he hands the glass to me. Eagerly I take it and drink a sip, groaning in ecstasy.

“God, I love you. When are you going to marry me?” I question and he laughs, wrapping an arm around my waist so we don’t lose each other.

“Grow a dick and we’ll discuss it. Anyways, where is that fine piece of ass you were meeting at the coffee shop? Tell me you’ve sunken your teeth into him already.” Adrian asks playfully, but the mention of Bucky sobers me all too quickly. He notices and his bright smile darkens. “Oh, honey. What happened?” I’m already shaking my head when he asks.

“Not a dish night. Get me drunk, Adrian.” I request. His gold eyes search mine, then he nods.

“Yes ma’am.” He agrees and smacks the bar, requesting shots for the both of us. The club is loud, dark, and hot, but once I have a couple shots and Adrian pulls me out onto the floor I forget all of it. When Adrian spins me out and a dark-headed man takes my hand, I exchange Adrian for him. Adrian doesn’t mind. Soon, he’s wrapped around a caramel haired guy with a tattoo peeping out from under the collar of his tank. The man I dance with has long, dark hair and is built like a truck, reminding me of another man I know. His eyes are a deep emerald green that are gorgeous, but I can’t help but wish for blue. Although, when he invites me to go out with him I follow. We end up in the alley beside the bar with our tongues down each other’s throats. He’s a good kisser, though I’m sure mine are sloppy and lack finesse. Strangely, I feel nothing. No spark, no heat, no anything. I press my hands against his shoulders and he stops, looking at me quizzically.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this.” I tell the poor guy and it takes a minute for the words to sink in before he backs away.

“Right…okay. Do you need me to walk you anywhere? To your car, back into the club?” The stranger asks me kindly and it shocks me, so I just shake my head. He nods once and walks right back into the club, leaving me in the dark alley. Sighing, I head to the parking lot to find Adrian’s car is gone.

“Aw, damn.” I murmur and look at the street. This club is surprisingly out of the way and it took an extra ten bucks to get my taxi to drop me off here. There’s no way I’ll get another. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I chant before diving into my bra and fishing out my phone. Scrolling through the contacts I get more and more nervous. There are only two names that I can call and there’s no way in hell I’m calling him. Pressing the number and tapping my foot on the gravel, I wait for an answer. I breathe a sigh of relief when he answers. “Steve?”

“Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” He asks instantly.

“Not exactly, but I could I ask a favor?” I question in my sweetest voice. “I, uh, I’m kind of drunk in a parking lot with no cabs. Could you pick me up, please?” As I ask I wince, knowing it’s a big favor.

“Drunk?” He asks and his tone is comical.

“Yes, it happens after drinking a lot and not being a super soldier.” I sass, grinning when he laughs.

“Thanks. Tell me where you are and I’ll be there.” He tells me and it warms my heart. I think about it a moment before remembering the address. “Alright, see you soon.”

“Wait, wait, wait, Superboy.” Silence fills the line as he does exactly that. “Uh, don’t tell Bucky.” I murmur and once again the line is quiet.

“Too late for that, doll. I’m coming.” Bucky answers before the line goes dead. Frowning, I put the phone back into my bra and walk back to the bar doors. Twenty minutes later two motorcycles tear into the place, waking me up from my almost slumber. I squint as a blurry shape makes its way over to me, but don’t recognize him until he speaks.

“What the fucking hell were you thinking?” He hisses at me rudely while I continue trying to focus on his face.

“Buck, she’s obviously drunk. Take it easy.” Steve says as he walks up behind him. I point a shaky arm at him.

“Liar. You shouldn’t have brought Mr. High and Mighty here.” I think I say, really, everything is fuzzy including my hearing.

“Sorry, you were on speaker when I picked up the phone.” He explains and I groan.

“Steeeeeeve. No. No, no, no. You tell people when they’re on speaker, Steve. It’s a rule, oldie.” I enlighten him while he smiles bewilderedly at me.

“God. Alright, you’re going home.” Bucky states and swoops down, picking me up bridal style out of sheer impatience. I stare up at his face, surrounded by the velvet navy of the night sky, and smile softly.

“I like you.” I comment and his stern face softens just a little when he looks down at me. “But you have no clue how to deal with women, do you?” Steve bursts into laughter a little ways behind us as Bucky’s eyes widen down at me.

“Steve, shut the fuck up. Head home and I’ll take her.” He speaks directly to Steve as we reach his motorcycle. He puts me on it and gets on behind me, encasing me in him. Giddy with his closeness, I happily lean back against him.

“You know, this bike makes you like…ten percent hotter.” I tell him helpfully and hear him sigh beside my ear.

“You can’t move, okay? Stay close to me.” He requests and takes my hands, putting them on the handles with his before starting his bike. Honestly, I have no clue why he said it. I have no desire to be anywhere else. Soon we’re flying through the streets and my fuzzy brain makes the city lights seem even more like I’m in a blender, but somehow it’s pretty. It doesn’t take too long before we’re back at my apartment and he’s carrying me into my apartment. He sets me on my already folded-out bed before looking in all my cabinets before finding meds and a glass. When he comes back over he has a glass of water and Advil in his hands. “Drink. It’ll stave off the hangover in the morning.” I drink when he tells me, then set the glass on the bedside table. I put my hands on his cheeks and rub affectionately while he crouches in front of me.

“You are such a pretty person.” I compliment sincerely before he catches my wrists and pulls them away.

“Pajama’s?” He asks and I point to his sweatshirt I had lain over my kitchen chair. Bucky walks over, grabs it, then comes back. Carefully, he slips off my hoochie heels and sets them aside. Then, he slips the hoodie on me. “Can you take your dress off?”

“It zips.” I tell him and pop up, swaying a little on my feet. His hands instantly steady me.

“Okay. Turn around and I’ll do it for you.” He offers and a nervous giggle slips out of my mouth.

“No, no, no. It zips down the front.” I lift the sweatshirt and point to the golden zipper all the way down the front. “I can’t do it. If I,” I hiccup, “bend over I’ll fall over.” My explanation seems to make sense because Bucky huffs and runs a hand through his hair, clenching his fist on the back of his neck.

“Okay. Stay as still as you can.” He tells me and holds my sweatshirt up to find the zipper, then once again lets it fall around his hand. Slowly, he unzips my skintight dress, his eyes never leaving mine as the sound of the zipper fills the room. His hand is a constant pressure down my body and leaves my skin feeling like it’s burning where he’s touched. Finally, it’s done and the dress falls to the floor. He gently sits me back on the bed before scooping it up and putting it on the kitchen chair, mumbling something about not even fitting it on his thigh.

“Tired, Bucky.” I tell him as drowsiness hits me like a truck. In an instant, he’s back at my side and pulling the covers down for me. After tucking me in, he pauses for a moment before brushing my hair back with a hand. My eyes flutter closed at the tender movement and claim his hand in mine.

“You’re such a fucking troublemaker. Christ.” He whispers before planting a kiss on my forehead. I hum quietly, too tired to really respond. I fall asleep with his hand still in mine.

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amazing-percy-jackson · 7 years

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Senior Year Chapter Three

Chapter Three you guys

Word Count: 4,805

Chapter: 3/?

Annabeth's POV

Annabeth woke up with the sun shining in her eyes and the smell of pancakes wafting through her room. She sat up unfamiliar with her surroundings. Oh yeah, she thought with a smile, I'm at Percy's. She got up and looked around her new room. It was small. Smaller than Percy's. It just had a twin bed, small dresser, and closet. Not that she really need too much space for her things. Annabeth looked down at the empty bag. Her clothes were in the closet and her blue prints and books in the dresser. Her cap was sitting on top of the dresser staring down at her. She didn't know if the hat was a good memory or a bad one anymore.

She could hear Percy and his mom in the kitchen. Must be the source of the smell, she thought. She got up and thought about the night before. She was glad that they got that out of the way. She was even more happy that it seems like Percy and her had a good night last night. She didn’t know if Sally and Paul could handle something like that their first night.

Annabeth walks to the bathroom to brush her teeth and looks in the mirror hanging above the sink just to see how bad her rats nest is. It's not as bad as she has seen before, so she just throws it in a quick ponytail before walking into the kitchen.

She was right, as usual. Percy was standing by the stove spatula in hand, pancake batter on cheek. She chuckles taking her spot on the stool closest to the wall. She notices that she has only been there a day but is already calling it her spot. She stared at Percy. He was wearing black basketball shorts and a light blue shirt. His hair messy, even more messy than she is use to. It was arguably hotter and Annabeth didn't know which side would win that argument. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head. His blue shirt rode up giving Annabeth an gorgeous image. She could only see a thin line but from that she could see his tanned smooth skin over his hip bones. She traced the muscles until she met the waistband of his shorts. This side would win, she decided.

"Good morning Annabeth dear." Sally chirped from the fridge, interrupting her gazing.

"Good morning."she chirped back. Percy turned around to look at her. He gave her a small smile and a little nod. She nodded back silently saying that she had a good night. She was happy to know that Percy had a good night as well.

"Morning. Would you like some pancakes?" He flipped over the pancakes on the stove.

Annabeth realized just how comfortable she was here. She looked at Sally then at Percy. I could get use to this, she thought. She could get use to waking up in Percy's apartment. Waking up to him cooking breakfast and making her breathe catch with the sight of him. She could get use to relaxing atmosphere.

She loves camp. She really does, but when she's there it's always training. Training for something that might or might not try to kill you. For her it was usually might. There were times that the camp atmosphere was relaxing but something always reminded you that you could wind up dead at any moment. Not very relaxing.

"Only if they are not blue." Percy turned around and gave her a face that told her she was either getting blue pancake or no pancakes at all. "Fine," she huffed. Percy smiled and gestured to the already steaming ones on a plate on the table. Annabeth rolled her eyes. She walked to the table and sat. She plopped two blue pancakes on to her plate and put a light layer of butter and syrup onto them. Percy put another four pancakes on the overflowing plate as he went back to the stove to finished the rest of the batter.

"Are we going to finish all of these?" Annabeth questioned.

"Don't underestimate me Annabeth. I thought you of all people would know that," Percy replied looking over his shoulder. Sally sat down across from Annabeth after filling her cup with some water.

"Thank you," she said and took a sip. Percy brought the rest of the pancakes over and took the seat next to her. Sally went down the hall to call for Paul. Percy grabbed the butter and syrup. After putting a glob of butter on all four of his pancakes in his stack his proceeded to pour half the bottle of syrup on them.

"Oh my gods Percy. Stop pouring so much on you pancakes!" She chided. She grabbed his arm to make him stop but he just squeezed the bottle to make more fallout.

"I told you before Annabeth. I can't drown and neither can my pancakes." He stopped pouring after you can barely see his breakfast. Paul came in and took his seat next to Sally.

"Geez Percy want a little pancake with your syrup," he said. Annabeth smiled.

"That’s what I said, but he just kept pouring more." Annabeth and Paul looked at Sally, waiting for her response to her sons action.

"Don't look at me. His not my son when he does that," she said without cracking a smile. She faltered when Percy looked at her with mock hurt in his eyes and put a hand over his heart. She gave the littlest smile at the sight.

"Whatever. You guys are just jealous that you can actually drown your pancake, cause your not a son of Poseidon," he declared and took a big bite for his syrup and pancakes. He took too big of a bite and choked. Annabeth cracked up as handed him her water.

"Thanks," he mutter giving her a glare that said he wasn't really thankful, but his lips twitching up and the corners said otherwise.

"So...um..." Annabeth started, "do you burn any offerings?"

"No I say a silent pray and eat it," Percy said. "Maybe that’s why they hate me so much..." He looked down at his plate like he just found the answer to all his problems. Then he shrugged one shoulder and took another bite. "Whatever," he muttered through a mouthful. Sally gave him a look that Annabeth was starting to get familiar with. Percy looked down sheepishly and swallowed his bite.

Annabeth cut up a piece of her own breakfast. Athena, accept my offering. She usually made it more personal but it didn’t feel right at the moment. Annabeth had thought that she had forgiven her godly mother but apparently not.

She took a bite, forgetting about Athena for now, and melting into the bite. She was kind of upset that she is just now learning how well Percy can cook.

"Okay seriously how did you learn to cook so well?" She learned yesterday to finish your bite before talking. Percy must have just learned it too because he put a hand up and chewed quickly.

"That's all Mom. There wasn't a lot to do when I was here for the summers. When I was here I spent a lot of them by her side just watching whatever she was doing. A lot of the time she was cooking one thing or another." He glanced at her then went back to his pancakes.

"He's a fast learner Annabeth." Sally added.

"Huh, seems like the only thing you can’t learn is archery." Percy rolled his eyes and Annabeth smiled.

"Wait. Your telling me that Percy, savior of Olympus, world, whatever, doesn't know how to shot a bow and arrow," Paul wondered. Percy groaned and rolled his eyes even more.

"It's not that I can't shoot one. I just can't aim that well." He admitted.

"Hey. Stop picking on my kid." Sally ordered.

"I wasn't even your kid two minutes ago." Percy countered not even trying to hide his smile anymore.

"Just eat your pancakes." And Percy did, smiling with a mouthful.

"So... Anyways. You guys are going shopping today right?" Paul asked.

"Yes. We are probably going to be gone all day." Sally answered. "What are you going to do today?"

"I'm probably going to go back to the school. Nobody goes back the day after the meeting so nobody is going to be there so I can make some copies today..." Paul continued to talk about what he was going to that day.

Annabeth smiled grabbing another pancake. There was only a few left from the stack that was here before. Annabeth shook her head as Percy grabbed two more, for a total of six. She really did underestimated him. She sat there eating her delicious pancake watching and listening as the conversation kept going. Annabeth caught herself wishing again that she had something that Percy had. No, She thought as she looked around the table. Her eyes stopped on Percy. I do have this. I have it right here with Percy and I could definitely get use to it.

After a shower Percy, Annabeth, and Sally pile into the car. Percy called shotgun as they walked down the stairs. He smile to himself and quietly said "I've always wanted to say that." They drove out of the neighborhood, Sally driving, Percy in front, and Annabeth behind Sally. Annabeth looked at Percy out of the corner of her eye. His hair looked tamer after a shower. She concluded that while his bed head is sexier, his hair now suits him better. She didn’t really know which she like better anymore. Her eyes trailed down him as much as she could see. He changed into a dark blue t-shirt with dark jeans and black shoes. Annabeth pretty much did the same but with a white shirt instead of blue and she threw her hair into a French braid. Annabeth marveled at the fact that somehow Percy looks good in anything without even trying. It was a blessing and a curse really. She loved how he looked good all the time, but at the same time all she wanted to do was deshevle everything about him.

They didn’t have to drive far to be in the city. It only took about ten minutes until they were pulling up in a Goodwill parking lot.

"We'll shop here and if there's anything that you really need that you can’t find we could go to the mall," Sally said parking the car. "You never know what your going to find in these stores though. And what can I say, old habits die hard."

When they walked into the store Percy told them he would be "Over there" as he gestured to the men's section of the store. Sally pulled Annabeth to the women's telling her how happy she is that’s Annabeth is here and that she finally has another women to shop with. Annabeth smiled as Sally started to hold up shirt to Annabeth's bodies. Annabeth didn't really mind. She wasn't that great of a shopper, but she let Sally's enthusiasm take over and went along with it. In no time Annabeth hand an arm full of shirts. Sally ushered her to the fitting room to try them on. Percy was coming up to them with a handfull of clothes and set them into the cart. Sally gave him a pointed look.

"Did you try those on, because I don’t think you did," she said. Percy groaned and started to open his mouth.

"You better do what your mother says, Perseus," Annabeth advised. Percy wiped his head around so fast at the sound of that name falling off of Annabeth's lips. His eyes got wide with shock. Annabeth never called him that but she was going to start to if this was his reaction every time.

"Fine okay geez. Just don't gang up to kill me. I mean I can take Annabeth but you mom..." Percy said.

"You wanna bet?" Annabeth asked walking towards him. Percy quickly grabbed the pile of clothes from the cart and retreated into the nearest fitting room. That’s what I thought.

Annabeth went into the fitting room next to his and really looked at the shirts Sally had handed her. They weren't too extravagant or out of her style, thank the gods. She was happy that Sally knew what she wanted. Most of them were just plain T-shirts in a variety of colors, sizes, and how well they fit. She put one on. It was a light blue shirt that fit a little snug but felt right. She walked out for Sally to see. Annabeth trusted Sally's opinion more than her own when it came to clothes. Annabeth usually looks for the best clothes for battle. Sally looks her over and gives her a little nod.

"How does it fit?"

"I guess it’s a little snug, but it's not uncomfortable."

"Alright. Try in the other ones."

Annabeth did. She walked out every time to show Sally. Some of the shirts Sally said she had to get. Others she shook her head and said next. Others she said if Annabeth liked it then they'll get it. This went on until Annabeth had no more clothes to try on. She had picked out four to keep and the rest to put back. She never saw Percy come out of his room until he walked out and put a couple jeans in the cart and walked back to the men's section.

Sally then took Annabeth over to the pants and started going through the jeans. She took a couple off the rack and held them up to Annabeth's waist. She was starting to figure out why Percy got embarrassed but she brushed it off. Honestly all the jeans that Sally handed Annabeth looked the same to her, but she trusted Sally.

Right when she turned to try on the jeans she ran into Percy. He grabbed her arms to steady her. He gave her a smile that said he has been in her shoes before then looked at Sally.

"Hey Mom, can I do sports this year?" Sally thought about it for a moment then nodded.

"I don’t see why you can’t this year. Only if you be careful." She said the last part like a warning. Annabeth looked up to see Percy's neck redden slightly.

"Come on mom. That was one time."

"What was one time?" Annabeth asked.

"When I was like ten I broke my wrist playing basketball. Mom doesn't think I can handle it anymore."

"I do not think you can’t handle it. I just don't know if you can careful or not," she said defensively. "Do you want to do any sports, Annabeth?"

Annabeth hadn't really thought about it. She knew she was pretty good at volleyball. She could hold her own in basketball when she played against Percy. She's not saying that she's better than him or anything, but she does give him a run for his money. She really didn’t know if her lungs could handle track after Tartarus.

"It's a really good way to get all the pent up demigod energy out of your system for the day. Especially since we are not going to have our regular training. We'll still have PE though which will be a great help," Percy explained.

"Okay I'd like to do sports. If that's okay with you Sally?" She asked.

"Of course it's okay with me. I want you guys to be comfortable and if sports help then you can do sports."

"You are going to need to get some good clothes then," Percy added.

"Why?"

"Cause when we have home games it's kind of a rule that you dress up. Showing pride in our school or something like that."

"Oh."

"Try these on first, then we can look at those," Sally said pushing her to the fitting room. "And you. You better be trying on everything you put in this cart or so help me-"

"I know. I know. I am Mom. I swear." He put his hands up in surrender. He backed up and walked away again. Annabeth went into a fitting room and did the same thing she did with the shirts. She had three jeans that she was definitely getting. She slipped into the last pair and admired herself in the mirror. They fit her well and were probably the most comfortable jeans she has ever wore. They weren't that ostentatious, no gems on the back pockets or anything like that. My type of jeans, she thought.

Annabeth walked out to find Sally already preoccupied with Percy. Annabeth almost had to grab the doorway to stay upright. Sally was fixing his bow tie, a dark blue one, that complimented his light blue button up shirt. Her eyes trailed over him drinking it all in. His light blue shirt was snug around his shoulder. His hips narrowed where his shirt tucked into his black slacks, a shiny black belt holding it all together. Her eyes really lingered on his shoulders. She had definitely thought about how Percy would look dressed up like this but she had always put him in a tie. She had never thought that bow tie would look this good on Percy.

"I think Annabeth wants me to get it," Percy said to his mom. Annabeth's eyes widened as she caught Percy's eyes. She looked away quickly but not before she saw a hint of red sneaking up from his blue collar. Sally laughed as she smoothed out the shirt.

"She's not wrong. You do look handsome." She lifted her hand to try and fix his hair.

"Mooom." He complained but made no effort to try and stop her. The red from his neck had spread to his cheeks.

"Okay fine. Go try this one on next." She handed him another button up. Percy walked past Annabeth to get back to the fitting room. He looked her up and down and whispered "I really think you should get those jeans." His eyes shifting down to her ass. Annabeth hit him in the shoulder. She had no doubt that she and Percy had matching red cheeks now.

"I think Percy said it all," Sally agreed. "Here try this one really quick." Sally handed her a gray silk dress. Annabeth will be the first to admit that dresses weren't really style but if Sally says so... Annabeth put it on and walked out right as Percy did.

"You two look adorable," Sally sang. Annabeth looked over at Percy and caught her breath. He had a dark gray button up, the one Sally handed him, no tie this time. His shirt wasn't as snug as the last one but still fit him perfectly. The color matched her dress almost to the shade. She noticed that Percy didn’t look like he was breathing either.

Sally pushed them together in front of the mirror between the dressing rooms. "See?"

Annabeth had to say they did look great together. The dress she wore was casual enough. It was a spaghetti strap dress that barely covered her knees. It emphasized her boobs perfectly without completely showing them off. I could fight in this dress too, she thought then quickly dismissed it. She's not going to be thinking about things that way this year.

She hadn’t noticed that Sally left until she came back carrying a pair of shoes. "Here," she handed them to Annabeth. They were just simple heels with a silvery shine. She slipped them on and they too fit perfectly. How in the world did Sally know her size in everything? The heels brought Annabeth more to Percy's height but not by much. They were probably just an inch or two. He was still taller than her. He had really grow over the last few months, in every way. She stepped towards him and he pulled her close. She was flush against him, both admiring the other in the mirror.

"We really do look great," Annabeth said. She turned to look at him. She forgot she was wearing the heels and found Percy's lips a lot closer to hers than she expected. He closed the small gap between them giving her a soft but meaningful kiss. He pulled away all to soon. He had a sheepish look on his face. Percy turned his head over their shoulder to look at his mom, who Annabeth had somehow forgotten was there.

"Sorry Mom," He apologized.

"It's fine," Sally said with a fond smile but then her face got really stern. "But if I catch you two doing anything other than that-"

"Don't worry Sally. If Percy tries anything with me he knows I'll beat him up."

He leaned in closer and she could hear him whisper "You wanna bet." Then he turned around and walked back into his fitting room. Annabeth did the same trying to not to think about what Percy's words had brought to her mind.

They went to a couple other thrift store getting something different at each one. Dress clothes at one. Practice clothes at another. By the time they left their fourth store the car was packed full of bags and Annabeth was sure she wouldn't have any room in her closet or drawers for more things.

"Okay is there anything else we need?" Sally asked once they got in the car.

"Well I'm gonna need some cleats for football. And Annabeth is going to need knee pads, good shoes, and spandex," Percy said from the front. He said spandex differently from the other things. It didn’t sit right with Annabeth.

"Oh my gods. You really are just a teenage boy aren't you?" Annabeth questioned from the back.

"Well I can't say I'm not at least a little excited," Percy said only to be hit in the arm by Sally.

"Thank you," Annabeth said to Sally.

"What?! I can't be excited to see my girlfriend play volleyball."

"We both know that's not why your excited."

"Okay. Okay. But it's just that whenever we're at camp you are always wearing jeans or jean shorts and a t-shirt, usually a camp-half blood one."

"Uh huh," Annabeth signaled him to get to the point.

"So... I'm just excited to see you in something else other than things you usually wear at camp. That's all." Annabeth knew that was not all. He really did want to see her in some spandex. Not completely, but some part of him.

She couldn’t really argue with him, though. She'll admit that she's kind of excited to see him in a uniform, other than his Meriwether PE uniform. Or in football tights. Or a basketball uniform that shows his shoulders. Okay she really couldn't blame him at all.

"Fine. We'll stop at the mall then go home and get dinner started," Sally stated. It was already 3:24. They had been shopping for at least four hour and they had enough things to make her room not feel so empty anymore. They got to the mall about ten minutes later. They went straight to Dick's Sporting Goods not wanting to waste anytime. Annabeth noticed that she was getting pretty hungry at the mentions for dinner. When they got to the store they found the volleyball section first. Of course. She got good shoes with nice traction. They were white with a little bit of purple, the school colors, Annabeth was informed. She got Nike knee pads then went to find the spandex. Percy was already there holding up hot pink ones.

"These ones please!" He pleaded. She snatched them out of his hand and hit him with the hanger. She grabbed plain black one with the Nike logo on the right thigh.

"Okay Percy what do you need?" Sally asked.

"What?! Your not going to make her try them on?" The disappointment and sarcasm bleeding through a little too much.

"No, they'll fit," Sally assured him.

"How do you know?"

"Percy I have spent your whole life judging your size since you never try clothes on. I've gotten pretty good at it."

Annabeth laughed and gave a silent thank you to Sally. They went to the basketball shoes next. Annabeth found the perfect pair for Percy.

"These ones please!" In the same tone as Percy. She held up huge shoes with an ugly lime green mixed in.

"Very funny," Percy deadpans. "No."

"But they'll match your eyes though. They both have green." She couldn't hold in her laughter anymore when Percy rolled his eyes and pushed the shoes away. They ended up getting matching shoes, dark purple, close to black, ones with a little white. Percy quickly got everything he needed for football and then they were off. They decided to hold off on getting anything for the spring season since they didn't really know if they would be doing track or anything else.

They were almost to the door when Sally and Annabeth realized that they had lost Percy. They turned around to see him standing in front of a window almost drooling. They walked back to him to find him drooling in front of a candy store. In the front display was an assortment of blue candy, almost like they knew Percy was going to be coming. He looked back at his mom with big eyes.

"Please," he pleaded like a...well...like a kid in a candy store.

"One thing." Sally held up one finger to emphasize. "One thing Percy." He was already in the store debating what he wanted. He and Sally walked out a couple minutes later. Percy held blue cotton candy in his hand and the biggest smile on his face. I don’t think he ever looks at me like that, Annabeth thought smiling. By the time they walked out Percy had already devoured half of it.

"Want any?" He asked.

"No. But do you know what I do want...?" He shook his head. "I want shotgun." She stayed long enough to see the betrayal on his face before she took off to the car. They didn't really park that far away but by the time Annabeth got to the car she was panting. She didn't realized that Percy was right behind her. He was breathing heavily too.

"Beat....you..." She gasped.

"You....play dirty....Chase."

They still hadn't caught their breath by the time Sally got to the car.

"You guys just ran to the car. Are you even up for sports? What have they been doing to you kids out there at that camp?" She unlocked the car and Annabeth climbed into the front seat. She thought back to the dark cavern and the toxic air. She gasped for breath but she wasn't sure it was because of the run anymore.

"We're fine." She heard Percy say somewhere far out even though she knew he was right behind her. "We were just breathing in some bad air. But we fine now." She felt him put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze pulling her back to reality. She knew he was saying those thing for her sake more than Sally's. She finally caught her breath and looked back at Percy silently thanking him. He nodded at her with concerned eyes.

"So what do you want for dinner?" Sally asked. Annabeth looked at her and knew that she trying to change the subject.

"How about some spaghetti?" Annabeth said taking the subject change gratefully.

#SeniorYear #Percy jackson #Annabeth Chase #Percabeth #PJO #Percabeth in high school #Goode High School #Chapter Three #Sally Jackson

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