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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 3 years ago

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A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head.

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you.

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks.

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication.

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile.

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed.

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it.

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly.

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off.

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically.

He glares.

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar.

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks.

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible.

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole.

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-”

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye.

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands.

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent.

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line.

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water.

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there.

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you.

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat.

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be.

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten.

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls.

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you.

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers.

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.”

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble.

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens.

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center.

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy.

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered.

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder.

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #rick flagg #bloodsport #bloodsport x reader #robert dubois x reader #robert dubois #idris elba #suicide squad #suicide squad 2 #dc #dc smut #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #smut

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userholland · 4 years ago

Text

all for her [2]

pairing: dad!bartender!tom x female!reader

warnings: excessive drinking, cursing, mentions of blood, violence, etc.

summary: a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter. is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?

word count: 10.8k!

the soundtrack: dancing with your ghost - sasha sloan, chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers, never the 1 - rosie, waiting room - phoebe bridgers, guilty conscience - 070 shake

a/n: im so happy with the response from part 1 & excited that part 2 is now here!!! i think i’ll try to end with the next part but..... who knows. again, thank y’all for the feedback & hope you enjoy!

— masterlist ☆彡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The night Summer was left on Tom’s doorstep was one he would never forget.

He moved into his apartment a month before and it was becoming more than the four, blank walls. It was in a quiet neighborhood, facing out to a street view of family-owned businesses and a bus stop. People passed the street often during the day, a good opportunity for people-watching from his small terrace. But when he closed the windows and locked the door, the feeling of being alone quickly settled in for the first time in his life.

The thought of being independent was reliving now that he had a part-time job. He'd be able to live off his earnings with no guilt and bring whoever he wanted without disturbing his roommates. Even though he had his own place of solitude and privacy, Tom still managed to visit you at campus now that he was closer compared to the hours of driving before. He considered it as a pro to moving, but he really just needed any reason to just have you close.

Most times you’d come over, saying you had homework and studying to do, but with Tom, you never got anything done in one sitting. You made dinners together or ordered something in the middle of the night, watch movies interrupted by your playful comments or you would take a nap between your classes while he did his work.

The two of you were inseparable now throughout college, not stuck with the limited possibilities of what your small hometown gave to you. Everything was going smoothly and Tom was looking forward to what his future looked like, maybe even see you ending up together, but things took a turn when he opened the door and saw Summer, small and swaddled, in the baby carrier at his feet.

It was a Sunday, having your ideal night-in watching your favorite movie, and ordering food for dinner. Your head rested on Tom’s lap, your eyes trying to focus on the TV but they fluttered. Tom had his arm around the back of the couch with his right foot on the coffee table. Sometimes he’d glance down at you, making sure you didn’t fall asleep because you had more studying to do, but he gently shook you every few minutes when he thought he heard your light snores.

“Hmm, I’m awake.” You grumbled.

“Judging from your snoring, I don’t think you are.” He smiled, moving your hair out of your face.

Your face scrunched together, “I don’t snore.”

“You don’t? Not like this?” He jeered, making an obnoxious noise as he leaned his head back.

You pressed your face against his cheek, tilting his head to the side and lightly gripping at his hair. Laughs and giggles echoed the apartment as you fought like kids, Tom’s hand holding your wrist to push it away from his face until the doorbell rang.

“Finally! I’m starving.” You said, thinking the Chinese food was here.

You jumped up from the couch, walking into the kitchen to get plates. Tom chuckled as he headed toward the door, “Are you excited? I couldn’t tell.” He said sarcastically, grabbing the tip money off the kitchen counter.

The baby was asleep, her chubby cheeks were a rosy pink as well as her lips. She looked peaceful bundled in a soft, yellow blanket, but fear instilled within Tom. He wasn’t sure what to do, his mind starting to race and his heart beating faster. He took a few steps into the hall and looked both ways. It was ominous how no one was around, yet there was someone at the door a few seconds ago.

“Hello?” He shouted, his hands against each side of the doorframe.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What’s going on?” You nervously chuckled.

The moment your eyes met the baby at Tom’s feet, your mouth slightly gapped with a trailed gasp.

“This has to be a joke…” Tom trailed.

You kneeled, reaching for the note tucked in by her leg. It was on a torn piece of notebook paper with Tom’s name scribbled on the front in pencil.

“I can’t take care of her. Please understand. Maggie.” You read off, biting your bottom lip.

He continued to stare at Summer, her hair barely grown and her skin so pink. He assumed she had been born a few weeks ago, maybe months. All he could process was that there was a baby on his doorstep and he had no idea what to do.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

It took a few minutes to get Maggie calm, but they went in the hall to talk so Summer didn’t wake up. It was none of your business, but you still stood close to the door with your back against the wall as their muffled conversation faded in and out.

“How did you even find me?” Tom asked.

“None of your business.” She snapped, “I don’t know why this is such a big deal.” Maggie chimed, crossing her arms.

Tom scoffed, “Because you’ve never made any effort to see her and suddenly, you want to come and pick her up and take her like she’s a puppy in an ad you found this morning.”

She smiled in spite, “Don’t talk to me like that-”

“How else am I supposed to act? You just told me she’s not mine!”

“Because she’s not! I had to dump her on someone!”

Every word that came out of Maggie’s mouth felt like a repeating stab in the heart. He couldn’t believe anything she said, convinced he hated her at that moment, but he somehow held his head high because he knew he’d fight for Summer no matter what Maggie could tell him.

“You’re not taking her. End of discussion.” Tom uttered, tears welling up in his eyes.

Maggie reached into the back pocket of her denim jeans, pulling out a folded piece of paper, and forcefully handed it to Tom. He stared at it for a few seconds, his hand lightly shaking as he slowly opened it by the ends.

“You still think I’m lying?” She scoffed as they both glared at the paper.

It was Summer’s birth certificate, dated on this day six years ago which made time seem so fast. His dry, tired eyes searched the paper until they locked to the father’s name box, a name he didn’t know and certainly wasn’t his.

“Either I call the police now or you give her… right here, right now,” Maggie growled with no hesitation.

Tom clenched his jaw, “You can’t-”

“I sure as hell can… and we both know you’re not dumb so, just give her to me.” She demanded as if Tom could process all of this while his world was crashing around him.

Tom licked his lips, sealing them to hide the pain that ached in his heart and spread throughout every nerve of his body. A single tear fell down his cheek, but he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand. Tom wanted to composed himself to stay strong, but he didn’t know he could crumble so easily from a small number of words.

“Can we do this tomorrow? I just wanna spend one more day with her.” He asked politely, the whites of his eyes now a light pink.

She stood there, not saying anything and her arms were still crossed.

“Please… Maggie.” Tom pleaded, feeling a bit pathetic.

Tom thought back to that conversation, replaying it in his head so much that he didn’t sleep all night. His constant shifting throughout the night didn’t let either of you get much sleep, but it’s not like you were either, laying there and wondering how much you could do.

You were surprised he didn’t cry, shout or lash out in some random outburst of pure anger. It’s what you would’ve done, but you knew that Tom was trying to convince himself it wasn’t real. The denial would eat him alive, only because he believed Maggie was telling the truth and would take Summer no matter how hard he thought of a way to not let her.

“Tom?... Tom!” Your voice seemed miles away.

Tom glanced up to meet your eyes, letting out an embarrassed chuckle as his ears tinted pink. The sounds within the diner became audible to him, not remembering how he got lost in a daze.

“In your own little world again?” You grinned, knowing that he was always one for thinking too much.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” Tom rubbed his hands down his face and straightened his back against the booth.

You sealed your lips, “You can talk to me about-”

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He retorted, nodding his head at you.

“Okay…” You trailed.

When his whole world was turned around the night before, you choose to not take his short attitude personally. All you could do was be there for him and you wanted to try your best. Seeing his hand rested on the table, you placed yours on top and reassured him, “It’s gonna be okay.”

He didn’t look at you, but you laid your head on against his shoulder. You caressed your thumb over his skin before grasping his hand and giving it a light squeeze. You brushed your cheek against his black hoodie, smelling the fresh lavender and nuzzling against his arm to remind him that you weren’t planning on leaving or letting him go.

Summer ran down the empty aisle, jumping into the booth and she laughed to herself, “I got this!”

You leaned up from Tom so he could see what she had in her small hand. Her casted arm rested on the table, signatures written all over it from her birthday party.

“It’s for you.” Summer smiled, putting the object in Tom’s hand.

He glanced at it, seeing a small plastic container with a yellow top sealing it. Inside was a cheap ring with the metallic paint partially chipped off and there was a blunt blue jewel in the middle.

“You sure you want to give it to me? It’s so pretty.” Tom managed to smile back at her, observing the ring.

“Yeah, Daddy. I promise.” She grinned, her tongue between her teeth as she flashed another smile that he thought resembled his.

Tom didn't want to believe that someone so full of spite and bitterness could be her mother, but he didn't have the heart to tell her. No matter how much he could hate Maggie for what she’s doing, Tom couldn’t ruin their possible relationship because she was her mother.

After the three of you finished your late breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, you got up to use the restroom, but also gave time for Tom to say his last goodbyes to Summer alone. You rubbed Tom’s shoulder before you slipped out of the booth, keeping your eyes on him until you turned the corner.

Tom grinned at her, but he still wasn’t sure how to tell Summer about Maggie other than she was spending the night with her for a while, thinking she would take to it but instead a confused look painted on her round face.

“I thought Y/N was my mommy.” She admitted even though he had denied her multiple times that you were.

He couldn’t hide his smile, “I’ve told you she’s not. She’s my friend. My best friend.”

“Daddy, I don’t want to go. I wanna stay with you and Y/N.” Summer persisted, placing her blue crayon down. She always got a wrinkle between her eyebrows when they furrowed.

“It’ll be a few days,” Tom assured, but he didn’t know.

“But, I don’t wanna.” She whined, bouncing a bit in her seat.

As much as he wanted to, Tom couldn’t say no. He knew this was going to happen before he could know anything else was going behind his back with Maggie. Summer pouted her lips as her mood changed, leaning back with her hair pushed up against the booth.

Tom shifted over, “Come here.” He asked her, patting where you were sitting earlier.

Summer wiggled out of her side of the booth, touching her feet to the ground before quickly lifting herself into the seat and curling up next to Tom. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her hair, feeling an instant warmth even though she was so tiny. It was as if he blinked and was surprised to see her growing so fast. His sweet daughter went from a toddler with bright blue paint on her hands and knees and blossoming into a young girl with ideas that could reach the moon and back.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna have so much fun. I promise.” He sniffled, his voice cracking a bit.

“Pinky promise?” She asked, lifting her casted arm to him.

His lip quivered, but Tom quickly smiled, “Promise… and we always keep our promises, right?”

She nodded, wrapping her tiny pinky around his then squeezing it tight, “Always, daddy.”

Tom remembered when she was only able to wrap her whole hand around that same finger, wondering where the time went. He wanted to go back to when she barely had hair on her head or when he had to follow her around the room when she started to crawl, as she grabbed at stray cords or tried to get under the couch.

“You have all your stuff?” Tom asked her.

“Mhmm, got my colors and favorite books.” Summer nodded, grabbing a piece of bacon off Tom’s place, “Do you think she’ll read them in the voices? Like you and Y/N do?”

Tom sealed his lips, “Maybe if you ask her nicely.” He cracked a smile, moving Summer’s hair out of her face.

As you walked up to the booth, Tom lifted his head and mouthed to you that he was okay. In the bathroom, you had to compose yourself before Maggie showed up. No excuse could make this situation better and all you could do was be patient and be there for Tom. While that was easier to think of, you knew as soon as you made contact with her bright green eyes, all you wanted to do was yell and protest that she doesn’t deserve to feel good about this.

“What did I miss? Anything interesting?” You joked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Daddy said I’m gonna have a lot of fun this weekend.” Summer mentioned, smiling at you with her crooked smile.

You gulped, your throat feeling dry, “Yeah, lots of fun.” You forced a grin.

The low music over the speakers filled the silence, not knowing what to say about this, especially in front of Summer. Tom kept his arm wrapped around his shoulder, but he stared out of the window with his hand on his chin, slightly covering his mouth. He didn’t want to cry, he was trying, but the more Tom thought about how there was a chance he couldn’t get Summer back, the more he dug deep to find a way to stop it.

“Hi, Tom.”

He quickly turned his head, seeing Maggie standing in front of the booth. She wore a sleek leather jacket with a maroon shirt underneath and it intimidated Summer. She furrowed her faint eyebrows, but Tom pulled back his arm around her.

“Hey, Maggie.” He didn’t look in her eyes.

She didn’t pay you any mind, choosing to ignore that you were sitting right there, but it’s not like you wanted her to give you any attention.

Summer scooted out of the booth along with Tom, both of them standing across from Maggie. There’s no doubting it was an awkward situation, but nevertheless, Tom continued to stay mature about it. He grabbed Summer’s backpack off the ground, helping her put both her arms through the straps.

“Okay, kid. I’ll see you in a few days.” Tom chuckled with his hands on Summer’s shoulders.

“Promise?” She asked, her big eyes so glossy.

He immediately clenched his jaw, knowing lying to her would hurt like a stab to his heart, but maybe it was for the better right now. There were many ways he could reply that didn’t sound like the lie it was yet he couldn’t come up with anything except, “Promise.” because he knew he would try to keep it as much as he could from where he stood.

Summer wrapped her arms around his legs as tight as she could, “I love you, daddy.” She mumbled.

“I love you too. Always.” He said before kissing the top of her head.

She looked over her shoulder at you sitting in the booth, not forgetting to say goodbye to you too. Summer walked up and got on her knees in the booth, feeling them sink into the cushion. Her small arms wrapped around you and you giggled, giving her a tight squeeze back.

“Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Summer.” You grinned, giving her a last glance.

She shimmed once more and stood in front of Maggie, still standing there with her arms crossed and one of her eyebrows arched.

“Let’s get going,” Maggie said, her happy tone sounding forced.

Without caring to hold Summer’s hand, Maggie began to walk away, but Summer stood still. Her little heart was racing, not sure what to do even though she was told to go with this strange woman who was supposedly her mom.

Tom glanced at Summer, his lips going to the side as he watched tears well up in her eyes. She sniffled, looking down at her feet and her body felt frozen. It was a new feeling to her, not knowing why she was suddenly so scared. It reminded Tom of her first day of kindergarten. She hid behind his leg while they stood in the hallway and all the kids slowly filled the room. He tried to nudge her to meet a new friend, maybe talk about her hobbies, but she was gripping on his jeans from how scared she was.

Just like he did on her first day of school, Tom kneeled on one knee in front of her. He angled his head to look into her eyes, trying to see her full face. He tilted her chin up and wiped her tears with his thumb, catching them as they ran down more.

“Hey, you remember when we saw the penguins at the zoo?” He grinned.

She nodded, her lip pouted.

“And you remember what the zookeeper said? That penguins always find each other, no matter where they are or how far they are... they’ll always find their way back to the colony… and just like penguins, we always find our way home too.” Tom explained, fixing the end of her jacket.

“Really, daddy?”

“Of course. You’re gonna have to keep your head up for a few days though.” He gulped, a small smirk on his lips.

Summer leaned in, wrapping her arms around Tom’s neck again and he coiled her arm around her, squeezing her arm tight. He left a quick kiss on her temple and Tom slowly stood up, trying to pull himself away so it didn’t become harder to leave her.

Maggie stood a few feet away, a bit of disappointment in her eyes. She thought this was going to be the easy part of this process, but it proved harder now that she could visibly see the bond Summer and Tom had created. You watched her lips pin together, not knowing what to do but stand there until they were done talking.

“I love you.” Summer said to Tom again.

“Love you more, kid.” He chuckled, his voice breaking from holding back his tears, “Remember to keep your cast dry. Okay?”

She slipped away from his arms and Tom’s heartfelt heavier the more he said his goodbyes. Summer held her head high and walked up to Maggie, lifting her hand up for her to hold. Maggie hesitantly reached for it, but she glanced at Tom for some kind of permission to. Tom sealed his lips and you slid out of the booth, standing behind him as you watched the two of them walk outside the diner.

“She’ll be back soon.” You whispered, rubbing his tense shoulder.

“Yeah…” He trailed, forcing a grin for you. Tom knew he didn’t have to fake his emotions for you, but right now, he didn’t want to admit he was torn apart inside.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The days didn’t pass by as quickly as Tom hoped. He didn’t realize how fast work was when he had Summer to come home to. It was hard for him to get out of bed, make meals for himself or concentrate on anything he was doing. Luckily, you were there for him or, at least, tried to be. You weren’t sure what would happen to your friendship after your sudden kiss, but you felt like it was inappropriate to bring up with what happened after it. Even though the status of your possible relationship was unknown and your feelings were still strong, you were there for Tom no matter what.

In the morning, you stirred in the sheets and felt the soft fabric of the pillow against your cheek. As you reached your arm over on Tom’s side of the bed, your hand brushed over the cotton linens which made you slowly open your eyes. The duvet was folded over and his pillow was propped up, showing you he had been up for a while before he got up. You let out a long yawn, stretching your arms and legs and feeling the cold air against your skin.

You walked around the bed, grabbing the blanket at the end of it and wrapping it over your shoulders before leaving the bedroom. When you got to the end of the hallway, you saw Tom sitting on the couch with a box in his lap and a few pictures scattered on the cushion. Your lips went to the side as you approached him, trying to be quiet but the sound of the floor creaking made Tom look over his shoulder.

“Morning.” You grinned, standing behind the couch.

You ran your hands over his hair, playing with it before you looked at the pictures. They were of Summer since she was a baby, most of them were birthday pictures or other special events, like when she lost her first tooth or the first time she stood up. Tom cherished the memories, hoping they would make him happy, but all they did was remind him how he felt like a failure.

“Good morning. How’d you sleep?” Tom asked, his voice groggy and deep.

“Fine, and you?” You replied as you trailed your hand from his hair, walking over to the kitchen.

“Good.” He lied, running his thumb against his left eye before grabbing another picture.

It was Summer’s first Halloween and he dressed her up in the homemade lion costume you worked so hard on. He half-smiled thinking about when you drew in a nose with black paint and she scrunched her face, the bristles of the brush tickling before Summer sneezed. Before you could warn her, she wiped her nose with her hand and you and Tom couldn’t help but laugh. With Halloween just around the corner, his smile fell wondering if they would have another one together.

“Here you go. Dark and two sugars.” You softly said, handing him a cup of coffee, just the way he liked it.

“Thank you.” He weakly smiled, taking a short sip.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

Tom placed his cup of coffee on the table and collected the pictures so you could sit beside him.

“Better. I got a little more sleep.” He muttered and set the box of pictures on the floor.

You pulled off the fuzzy blanket on the arm of the couch before you sat down, laying it over your and Tom’s lap. Your crisscrossed your legs, holding your mug in your lap while Tom put his free arm around your shoulders. When you turned your head to Tom, he didn’t have the same natural glow to him.

He was struggling to find some kind of closure, but the lack of communication with Maggie made it hard for him to not overthink. There were no calls and rarely a text. Tom was going crazy, replaying the last moments with Summer in his head.

“Maybe you can skip work today.” You suggested, rubbing the top of his leg.

Tom nodded, “I can’t. I need the tips. Hopefully, I can get Halloween night. I’ll be able to cover child support for the month.” He rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes as he tilted his head toward the ceiling.

Your lips went to the side, “Did Maggie say when you’d see Summer?”

He sighed, “No. I haven’t heard anything either.”

“That can’t be legal.”

“Summer’s not mine, Y/N. I don’t get to see her when I want.” Tom retorted as if he was defending her.

“You know that’s not true. It doesn’t matter if she’s your blood, you gave her the best life. Who knows? Maggie probably just forged it. People do it all the time. Why would she just come back when you slept together one time?” You acknowledged, not trusting her for a second.

“I don’t want to get into it.” He replied, taking another sip of coffee.

“Then when are you? Because I know you love that kid more than anything else in the world.” You protested, still facing him.

Tom finally looked your way, meeting your eyes, but he didn’t want to say anything. You didn’t expect a response because you knew that he did love her and he was going to find a way to get her back, no matter how long it took. You tilted your head at him, cracking a smile and tilting his chin up. The warmth that came from your comfort helped him see the brighter side in this, motivating him to see that this wouldn’t last forever.

“You know you’re the best, right?” Tom grinned.

You reached your hand up, intertwining yours with his that was hanging off your shoulder, “I try.” You joked, both of you sharing a light laugh.

You ran your fingers through Tom’s hair, trying to fix it, but he was growing it long as he did in high school. Tom let out a low chuckle, feeling your hand trail to cup his cheek and you rubbed your thumb over his cheek and the faint freckles painted across his soft skin.

While the past few days had been confusing, Tom knew that he wanted to be with you, but he didn’t want to stir you in his drama. As much as you had been there for the past six years, he realized that Summer was his responsibility, and to bring you into a triangle with him and Maggie didn’t seem fair. It’s not because he wanted to push you away for his selfish reasons, but because he wanted to protect you from whatever was going to happen from this point. You were still best friends and would always be, but it didn’t feel like enough after finally kissing each other and not wanting to let go.

As you pulled your hand back, you glanced down and see some of the pictures in the box. You quickly lean down, placing it on your lap and you picked through the various photos before there was one that brought back memories.

“I can’t believe you have this.” You chuckled, holding the photo close to your face.

Tom turned his head toward it, not knowing he had his eyes glued to you, and he instantly smiled.

“Ah, when I was your knight in shining armor.” He beamed at the picture of you with your broken arm and he stood next to you wearing his favorite baseball jersey.

“You mean when you carried my books for me and helped me put on my backpack, oh yeah, I remember.” You grinned, reminiscing to when the world wasn’t so complicated.

Tom smiled, “Don’t act like you didn’t love it.” He rubbed your shoulder, both of you chuckling at the memory. You handed him the picture, but he slowly was reminded of Summer and her recent accident.

“Shit..” He trailed, “I hope she’s kept her cast dry. I should call.” Tom said, unwrapping his arm from your shoulders and you watched him frantically looking for his phone around the apartment.

“Tom!”

“Huh?” He asked, lifting some papers on his counter.

You lifted his phone, his screen cracked, in your hand and grinned, “Looking for something?”

A relieved smile painted on his face as he walked over, taking the phone and he kissed a light kiss against the top of your head, “What would I do without you?”

It was nice to see him turning back to his old self, but you knew that his happiness was at the risk of being at Maggie’s beck and call. Even though you weren’t Summer’s mom, you wanted to have a say where she ends up too.

You half-smiled, watching him walk down the hall to his bedroom. You turned toward the box of pictures, rummaging through enough to get an idea of how to organize them.

Tom slowly paced across his room as the phone rang, sweat on his palms that he brushed on the back of his jeans. He leaned his head toward the ceiling and tried not to overthink what he could say if he went straight to voicemail.

“Hello?” Maggie retorted, running her fingers through the crown of her hair.

“Hey. I just wanted to make sure things were okay.” Tom trailed as he sat on the edge of his bed.

“Fine, it’s fine.” She lied, searching through her laundry basket.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, things are fine! I’m just trying to find this stupid sweater.” She grunted, pushing through all the folded clothes.

“What sweater?”

“Some yellow sweater with a heart on that she won’t stop complaining about.”

Summer was sitting on the couch, insisting she wanted to watch her favorite cartoons after breakfast. Maggie didn’t want to deal with the complaining and poking so it was relieving to keep her distracted instead of having to keep Summer entertained while she tried to work from home.

“Oh, I forgot to put it in there. Shit.” Tom cursed, quickly getting up.

He walked to Summer’s room, knowing the exact drawer he remembered placing it in and not surprised that it was there. Tom lifted the sweater, the sleeves unfolding, and seeing how worn it was from the ripped tag. He brought it up to his face, inhaling the lingering smell of watermelon and kiwi from her shampoo.

“Yeah, I got it. It’s here.” He told her, the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Okay, I’ll come over and get it.” Maggie huffed.

“No, no! I can go over there. I have to go to work later so I can come by.” Tom offered, glaring at the small sweater in his hand.

“Depends, are you going to bring… Y/N?” She crossed her arms as she leaned against the washing machine, “Because I don’t think she’s been a good influence.”

Tom’s eyebrows arched, “Excuse me?”

“Summer says “Y/N lets me do this or Y/N and I do this” and I don’t think it’s good considering she’s not her mom. She shouldn’t have such big control over her.” Maggie said loud enough for Summer to hear from the couch.

“You weren’t there for her and she was so, I’m sorry if she acts like her mom more than you.” Tom chimed.

Maggie clenched her jaw, “Just drop it off. Okay?”

“Sure. I’ll be over around three.”

She hung up abruptly and Tom was left upset from not being able to talk to Summer. He hated how he didn’t have any sense of control, to think that this could be the way things are until she goes off to college. Out of anger, Tom threw his phone across the room that made a loud thud against the wall. His blood boiled and tears filled his eyes, bringing the sweater back to his face and trying to let the lingering scent keep him calm.

You stood in the hall across from the door and it was close enough to hear the whole conversation. Every word made your heart drop, not knowing what you could do for him. You hated eavesdropping, but it was getting harder to get the truth from Tom as the days went by. He was falling apart and it was getting too painful to slowly watch.

“Tom?” You softly asked, knocking on the door.

He left the sweater on the bed, wiping his eyes with the end of his t-shirt before grabbing his phone off the floor. To his relief, the already cracked screen didn’t have any new damage. Tom wiped the screen against his pants before opening the door to meet your gaze.

“Sorry about that. I just got frustrated.” He avoided looking in your eyes.

“It’s okay.” You tell him, not needing any assurance. All you did was wrap your arms around him and tell him that it would all be okay, even if you didn’t really know if it would be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The half-hour drive to Maggie’s apartment felt like hours to Tom, his head filled with what he was going to say to her or how he was going to handle whatever she told him. He bit on his nails on his left hand while the other gripped the top of the steering wheel tight. Right when he thought of the things he could say, his anxiety made him forget all of the rational thoughts.

As he parked in a parallel spot, Tom got out of the car with the sweater in one hand with a duffle in the other. He carefully crossed the street and entered the complex, walking up the stairs to the fourth level. When he entered through the exit door, he saw the floors were polished and the lighting was bright since there were no windows. It all came off as luxurious and bare, nothing but one or two paintings on the wall.

He knocked a few times under the plastic golden numbers, his eyes searching around until he heard the locks click. The door flew open and Maggie popped her head out, her makeup a few shades darker than last time.

“Hey,” Tom mumbled.

“Hey… you brought it?” She asked quickly, opening the door more.

Tom couldn’t help looking past her, seeing if Summer was in there.

“Yeah. Here.” Tom huffed, handing her the sweater, “And I brought some other stuff she might want.” He gave her the duffle too, weighing down in her hand when he passed it.

“Jesus, what’s in this? She’s not going off to college.”

“A few books, shirts, socks, a few Mad Libs.” He said what was off the top of his head, shoving his hands in his front pockets.

“Well thanks, it should keep her busy.” Maggie quickly grinned, but before she could shut the door, Tom took a step forward.

“Can I see her? Just for a few minutes before I go to work.” Tom asked, even though he didn’t feel the need to.

She sighed, “I really have to go, Tom.”

Before Tom could say another word, Summer shouted from behind Maggie, “Daddy!”

Summer pushed past Maggie, holding out her arms and Tom immediately wrapped his around her. He spun her around with her feet off the ground. He could cry as he held her tighter, kissing the top of her hair and she giggled, “I missed you!”

He put her back on her feet, “I missed you too, kid. How’s the cast?” Tom smiled.

She lifted it up, “Good, I got more names on it.”

“Oh, yeah? Aren’t you miss popular.” Tom chuckled, watching her rotate the cast.

“Are we going home?” Summer quickly asked.

Tom sealed his lips, “Ah, not… yet.”

Summer’s face shifted, “But, I wanna go home.”

“Not yet, baby.” Tom knew it wasn’t in his control right now.

“But, I wanna go home now…” She protested, a dimple between her furrowed eyebrows.

It was the first time he heard true sorrow in her light voice. A kid always had their emotional fits, but Tom taught her that it was okay to talk to her and didn’t have to hold anything back. There was never a moment of questioning her temper tantrums or how she behaved, but he couldn’t wrap his head around this whole incident. He didn’t know how to answer her questions and help her and it was killing him to feel like he was doing nothing yet also trying to do everything he could.

“Summer, I promise you’ll be home soon, okay?” He promised, running his hand over her soft hair.

“Okay.” She pouted.

Quickly turning away, Summer fled back into the apartment and didn’t give Tom another look. He chewed the inside of his cheek and Maggie put her hand on your hip, not knowing what else to say.

“Well, thanks.” She huffed.

“When can I see her again?” Tom asked, embarrassed from how desperate he came off.

She nodded, “I don’t know...”

Tom clenched his jaw, “I raised her, I don’t understand how you can come back and just take her away like you suddenly want to be a great mother. Do you want something else from me other than child support? Huh? What is it, Maggie?” He asked, frustrated and tired of biting his tongue.

Maggie looked over her shoulder at Summer, meeting her blatant glare, so Maggie stepped into the hall to have some privacy. Tom took a few steps away from her, putting his back against the wall while she stood on her side.

“I don’t want to argue with you, Tom. I really don’t-”

“Then why are you doing this?” He cut her off.

She nodded, “I’m uncomfortable with it all.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not Summer’s dad!” Maggie stated, “Okay? Do you know how confusing that is gonna be to her? That the guy who has raised her for six years isn’t even her dad!”

Tom was in disbelief, his throat dry and thinking as if he got the wind out of him.

“I want to take a DNA test.”

Maggie couldn’t help but chuckle, “You’re not her dad.”

“I don’t care, I’m taking a test. If I’m the father, she gets to stay with me.”

“Well, she’s not so, good luck with that plan.” She boldly told Tom, watching him walk away from the conversation.

Adrenaline fueled him, leaving the building with the last dignity he felt like he had. The doubt rapidly sunk in from Maggie’s words and for the first time, Tom started to believe that she was right. He may have wasted six years of his life, not knowing how he could have fallen for it all.

After slamming the car door, Tom huffed and wiped his hands down his face. He was annoyed at the stress he held back, thinking he had his emotions under control when everything was falling apart. A million voices spoke throughout his conscience all at once and tried to guide him, too overwhelming to maintain his cool he had kept for so long. Tom clenched his fist and quickly jabbed the steering wheel, pain coursing from his blistered knuckles.

The night shift was a wreck and Tom couldn’t gain his confidence back. He messed up drink orders that infuriated his tipsy customers, dropped a glass from how shaky his hands were, and overall couldn’t clear his mind from his argument earlier with Maggie. Nevertheless, Tom pushed through the sloppy job he did but had to flee to the back to get some air from the inebriated crowd.

With a bottle of beer in one hand, he slipped away when one of his co-workers came in. Tom exited to the back alley, the cold breeze hitting his face and the wind slapping his back when the door closed behind him. As he brought the bottle to his lips, Tom took breaths through his nose as he downed the bitter ale. His eyes burned from the icy carbonation, pulling it away after drinking most of it. He tossed the glass bottle into the dumpster across from him, running his hands through his hair as he paced around the dead end.

“Shit!” He growled, his voice echoing.

A few tears trailed down his cheek and he quickly wiped them with the back of his hand. Tom got himself together, but before he went back inside to end his shift, his phone vibrated in his front pocket. He was relieved to see your name headlining a picture of the two of you.

“Hey, babe.” Tom sniffled.

You were taken back by the pet name, “Babe?”

He smiled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I’m tired.” He pinched his nose bridge.

“No, no, I wasn’t sure if we were using “babe” or any other grossly cute nicknames.” You jeered, your sweet giggle comforting him.

“It’s just been a weird day.” He pressed his back against the brick wall.

“Things didn’t go well with Maggie?” You sighed, laying down on the couch.

Tom nodded, “Not exactly. But, I’m trying to figure it out.”

Your lips went to the side, not surprised Tom said it because he always liked to tackle everything by himself. There was no need to meddle, but you knew he would come around when he wanted to.

“Hey, I know it’s hard now, but… You’re gonna get her back.” You started, hoping it sounded comforting.

Tom remembered when you said he’d never lose her. He already doubted himself, but he didn’t want to have a lack of uncertainty with you, a person he trusted more than anyone.

“Tom?” You asked, only hearing the noises of passing cars in the background.

“Yeah, babe, I’m here.” Tom shook his head, running his hand down his face.

His voice cracked from the brokenness, causing your heart to flutter. You wanted to fix this all, and you would if you could, but it was equally as frustrating for you to keep your calm. You knew that if you exploded with rage and anger, Tom would follow the same path of destruction and it’s the last thing you both needed to do.

“Okay… are you coming back soon?”

“Yeah, I’m almost off my shift. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“Drive safe, please.” You tilted your head, pulling your legs to your chest.

“Always.” He smiled before hanging up.

Tom went back inside to finish his shift, hoping to get a few tips from his charm. He snuck a few shots of Crown and gin in between his orders, looking around to make sure none of his co-workers saw. It was out of his character to drink on the job knowing it could get him fired on the spot, but Tom didn’t care. He wanted the pain inside to numb away with warm liquor until he was sick.

Making the poor decision of driving home, Tom took his time to get back. He rubbed his eyes a few times from the haze fogging his vision, but he slowly pulled into his usual parking spot. At first, he forgot to put on the parking gear, the car rolling forward before he stepped on the brake. A drunk chuckle left his lips as he parked, pulling the keys out and he leaned on the car to maintain his balance.

You fell asleep on the couch waiting for him only to flinch from the door slamming. As you put your weight on your arms, Tom walked in with a sway to his walk.

“Hey, I was starting to worry.” You groaned, stretching as you stood up from the couch.

“Sorry, I was… trying to get home and there was… it was fine.” He slurred, a faint smile on his face.

You furrowed your eyebrows, walking up to him and instantly smelling the alcohol on his breath.

“You drove home drunk?”

“I’m here in one piece, aren’t I?” He breezed past you, kicking his shoes off by the kitchen island then heading to the bedroom.

“You could have gotten killed.” You hissed.

You crossed your arms as you followed him, standing in the door frame. Tom struggled to unbutton his shirt, not able to grip them with his hazy vision.

“I’m here, okay? I’m fine and I just need to sleep.” Tom groaned, the alcohol fueling his irritation.

You didn’t want to pick a fight, not this late and not with everything else going on, so you digressed and decided to leave it till the morning.

As he lazily pulled apart his button-up, he threw it to the side and left him in his basic white tee. You walked around to the shared bathroom and cupped some lukewarm water in your hands to splash on your face. You could hear Tom unbuckle his pants and he threw them to the floor, missing the hamper by a long shot.

You walked to your side of the bed, glancing at him laying down with his bloodshot eyes still open.

“Tom, you can’t do this.”

“I know. I know, but this… I fucking can’t think about anything else.” He admitted.

You sat up on the bed with your head against your pillow, pulling the duvet over your legs. You ran your hand over his messy, brown curls, weaving your fingers through it and pushing it back. His eyes met yours as you continued to play with his hair.

“From how long we’ve been friends, I know you have always put the weight of the world on your shoulders.” You spoke calmly, your tone soft and sweet like honey, “But, you can’t keep doing this to yourself...”

He gulped, not knowing how to let go of this anger he internalized.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” His voice was broken.

“You need to take your time, baby.” You whispered, running your hand through his hair again.

Tom gently held your hand that was resting on your stomach, brought it to his face, and kissed the top of it a few times. You grinned, watching him bring your intertwined hands to his chest. He kept his eye contact with you, his free hand tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know how I’d stay sane without you.” He revealed, his eyes glossy.

You half-smiled, “You’d function, just not as properly.” You jeered, trying to make him laugh.

“Oh, always with the jokes.” Tom chuckled, tickling up your side and you began to kick around, letting out infectious belly laughs.

“I can’t help it! You’re fun to mess with.” You beamed.

You shifted down to be face to face with him, lying next to him and forgetting about the world for a few minutes. Tom was never big on affection with who we dated, struggling to open himself up with people he felt were temporary. Little did you know that he was wrapped around your finger since the day you fell off the jungle gym.

“I just want you to be happy.” You sighed.

He nodded, “I am happy. I promise.”

You brushed your nose against his, your head angled from the side. Tom’s light buzz lingered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you closer to him under the warm, cotton sheets. Your head rested on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and running your hand down his abdomen. As you brought his hand toward you, but you furrowed your eyebrows at the light red and purple bruising across his knuckles.

“What’s this from?” You asked, grazing your finger over his skin.

Tom raised his eyebrows, “Uh, I don’t know.” He lied.

You pouted, “You should ice it tomorrow. It looks kind of bad.”

“Yeah…” Tom trailed, biting the inside of his cheek.

You pressed light kisses against the bruises, “Gotta be more careful, babe.”

His brown eyes brightened, a small smile on his lips before he scattered some kisses against your temple, your cheek pressing against his shoulder.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

When you two went to the clinic to get the DNA test, Tom couldn’t sit still the whole time. From the waiting room until he sat on top of the doctor’s table, he pulled at his fingers or tapped his leg which made you place your hands on him to get him to stop. You gave him words of encouragement, trying to support him through the lengthy process, especially when he saw the needle thread into his dark blue veins.

“I thought it was just gonna be a cheek swab.” He chuckled, discomfort in his chuckle.

“Some places do that, but a blood test is more accurate.” The nurse tried to calm him, her tone soft.

“How accurate?” He hissed at the sudden pinch.

Her lips went to the side, “Above ninety percent.”

His head was turned to the cabinets, fixating on the bold font of one of the flyers. You sat in the black, plastic chair next to the counter, your legs crossed and peering up at Tom. His face scrunched together for a split second, visibly seeing that he still hated needles after all these years.

“What?” He asked.

You nodded, “Nothing. You’re just making a cute face.” You jeered, placing your hand on your cheek with your elbow on the arm of the chair.

“Just reminds me of high school blood drives… Nurse Jenna always poking my vein a thousand times.” He huffed.

“It’s because you squirmed so much, like you are now.” You teased.

He rolled his eyes with a faint smile, looking down at his feet before the nurse pulled the needle away and covered it with a ball of cotton. Tom held it there for a few seconds until she slowly wrapped the light blue bandage the perfect tightness around his arm.

“You should get the results back in four to five days. We’ll let you know right away, Mr. Holland.”

“Thank you so much.” Tom grinned at her.

After the nurse walked out with the blood sample and her file, you stood up, slinging your purse strap on your shoulder. Tom stepped down from the table, pulling down his flannel sleeve to cover the bandage.

“You were so brave. Are you upset she didn’t give you a lollipop?” You joked.

“Don’t worry too much, but I think I’ll live.” He jeered back, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

You wrapped your arm around his back, giving him a light hug before you two left to check out then headed back to his apartment. On the ride home, Tom was fairly quiet with the low music from the speakers filling the car. There wasn’t anything you needed to say, but being there for each other was enough comfort. With the windows rolled down halfway, the fresh air weaved through your hair and your fingers were loosely wrapped around the top of the steering wheel.

Tom looked out the window, watching the scenes you passed by, but his head was in a different place. His elbow rested against the armrest of the door, unconsciously biting his nail and shaking his leg. You cautiously put your hand on top of his, the one settled on his leg, intertwining your fingers together without looking at him.

It was still hard getting used to the quietness, not only from you but within Tom’s life.

Tom missed Summer being at the apartment, looking forward to putting up the crayon drawings she worked on at breakfast or insisting they go to the park on weekends. But, since she hadn’t been around, it gave more time for you and Tom to be alone, at least back to how you were six years ago. For the most part, it was nice to dance in the middle of the living room, spinning each other around and sharing takeout at the coffee table while watching a tooth-rotting, romance movie. Just making it more obvious that Summer changed his life, even in the smallest things she did.

The growth of your relationship was important, but most of it was centered around Summer. It didn’t mean you couldn’t both carry a conversation without her, just that most of the things you did together were for her. Endless trips to the park, going to the zoo, taking her to girl scouts, or even running around the house playing hide and seek if it was a rainy day. Her giggles filled the apartment, endless amounts of laughter from the three of you and the memories you created. It was the one thing that motivated Tom to fight for her, just to make more and more memories and have her back in his arms for good.

As the grueling days passed, it was closer to Halloween night and Tom was trying to get as many shifts as he could. Not only was it one of their busiest times, but he also got generous tips. Because the holiday was during a school day, Tom’s apartment held an event for some kids to come by and trick-or-treat early.

It would be Tom’s first holiday without Summer there, but the results would come any time now. It’s all that consumed his mind, on top of him working on her Halloween costume without her. She insisted she wanted to be Wonder Woman and you and Tom never used store-bought costumes, not even when she was a baby and you made a pumpkin costume out of orange felts and stitching.

“Hey! You’re gonna be late for work.” You said, running your hands through Tom’s curls when you passed by him sitting at the table.

Tom snapped out of his trance, shaking his head and rubbing his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. Today marked the day Tom should have gotten his DNA test back, checking his phone and email since he woke up before dawn.

“Are you staying late? I know Halloween week is probably like the jackpot for you guys.” You grinned, grabbing a mixed bag of candy from on top of the fridge and a bowl from the cabinet.

“Yeah, if you thought the tips from single moms paid up, wait until you get an open tab from a fratboy.” Tom chuckled as he got up, stretching his back and he brushed down his wrinkled, navy button-down.

“Well, I’m sure they’re just flirting with you too. You’re so damn charming with those brown eyes and smile.” You winked at him, shifting the big bowl of sweets with both your hands.

He walked behind you, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, “Hmm, well there’s enough of me to go around.” Tom jeered.

Tom checked his phone once again, scrolling through his email and call history, seeing him looking down at it from the corner of your eye.

“Hey, babe, you need to get going.” You reminded him, placing the bowl of candy on the small table next to the door. You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, dear.” Tom faintly smiled, nudging his head against yours before you untangled from him.

He shoved his phone in his back pocket, grabbing his denim jacket off the back of the kitchen chair. Tom told you he’d call you on his way home and to have fun, but felt some relief from not being around the kids. He’d barely spoken to Maggie since their argument last week, only getting updates on Summer and her behavior. Tom never knew someone could find the one nerve that could be pinched in any instance, making him incredibly annoyed with whatever he was doing.

The bar was getting packed as Tom walked past the crowd in the front, everyone mingling at the high-rise tables in their various costumes. There was a discount if you wore a costume, usually helping business with more drinks for lower prices, but that meant the night would feel longer with an endless amount of orders piling on top of each other with little patience from a drunken mob.

Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, Tom made sure their inventory was stocked as he breezed by his co-workers. He wasn’t close enough to them to tell anyone want he was dealing with, but he figured it was better not to talk about it so it never came up during a shift.

Multicolored lights flashed and beamed through the moving mass of people, but enough of the warm light above the bar helped guide Tom when he was scrambling to attend to whoever he could. It took his mind off his stress, too worried about not getting drinks right when it was easy to with how hectic it was. Drink after drink, he collected a bill and shoved it in the shared tip jar behind them, hoping they made enough so everyone could walk with sore feet, but be satisfied with their hard work.

As the night grew longer, it became rowdier and it meant that it was harder to get people out so new ones could come in. While Tom talked to one of his regulars down at one side, an argument between two strangers began to ensue toward the middle. Tom looked over his shoulder while leaning on the bar, glaring at the two boys whose voices howled over the music.

“I think you should get the fuck out of my face!” One yelled, he had dirty blonde hair and a scratch by his lip.

“Chill out, what the fuck!” The other retorted and his piercing blue eyes were bright enough for Tom to see from where he stood.

“Hey, give me one second.” Tom told the man he was talking to, quickly pacing over toward the angry exchange, “Hey, knock it off.” He said with an assertive, deep tone.

They ignored Tom, continuing to argue before one threw a punch deep into the other’s face. It knocked the man on the floor, making Tom jump over the bar to try to break up the fight. While he defended himself from the guy who punched first, the other drunken man pulled Tom down by the shoulders. In his inebriated fury, he jabbed Tom in the stomach, hurting his rib which made Tom hold on his hands there.

“Hey man, get off me!” Tom gritted his teeth, grabbing the guy’s wrist to push him back down to the floor.

Even though Tom was strong enough to do so, the other nameless man tried to help Tom, but Tom was soon met with a punch to the eye, near the nose bridge. The guy was twice as large as him, able to put his weight on Tom as he threw constant punches to his face and jaw. Tom’s eyes teared up, mixing with the blood from his nose before the guy was pulled off him.

Tom quickly got on his feet, holding on to the bar, but he was met with more arguing between the two strangers he never should have intervened between, to begin with. He rubbed the back of his head, hoping he didn’t have a concussion with the throbbing under his skin. Before Tom could recover from what happened, the guy approached him again, stumbling until Tom threw a punch back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but the stress of everything instantly came out with his rush of adrenaline. More people from the crowd tried to step in, even one of Tom’s co-workers, but it ended with two police officers settling both of them. Tom tasted the blood on his lips, spitting it on the dirty floor as his heads were pulled behind his back.

“Calm down!” The officer pleaded with Tom, taking him outside of the bar.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The sounds of office phones ringing and the news playing lowly were all you could concentrate on. The police station was the last place you thought of being at a time like this, your heart racing since you picked up the phone and told what had happened with Tom. You bounced your leg, the other crossed on top of it and moving your ankle to find anything to make time go faster.

“Y/N L/N.”

You whipped your head, pushing off the chair to get up and speed walk to the front.

“Y-Yes, that’s me.” You said, putting your hands on top of the desk.

“He’s being released now.” The officer spoke with a monotone voice.

You nodded, stepping away from the desk before a short buzz echoed the hall. Tom slowly walked up, his hands behind his back before the officer escorting him released the handcuffs.

“Keep your head up, kid.” The tall officer told him before walking back to the cells.

Tom rubbed his reddened wrists, his face and body in pain from the beating he went through. When you saw his face, you almost couldn’t believe it was him. Red and purple bruises faded on his light skin near his right eye and trailing his sharp jaw. His nose bridge looked displaced and dry blood under his nose, the rest on the collar of his dark shirt. You almost couldn’t stare because of the bright redness surrounding his right eye from popping a vessel.

“Babe…” You choked, gently holding his face.

“I’m okay. I promise.” Tom gulped, his hands settling on your hips, “Let’s just go home.” He croaked.

“Not before we go to the emergency room. Your eye looks awful.” You say, gently moving his head to take a better look at it.

He nodded, “I just wanna go home, please.”

“No, we can’t, you’re hurt--”

“Y/N, I wanna go home.” He snapped.

You clenched your jaw at his stubbornness, “Fine.”

Once you were back to the apartment, the first thing Tom wanted to do was take a shower. He sat on top of the toilet seat, unbuttoning his button-down, but winced at the soreness in his arms when trying to take his not-so-white, t-shirt off. As he continued to try to get his arms higher, Tom couldn’t push himself to do it. He leaned over in frustration, a grunt passing his lips before you walked into the door frame.

“Let me help you.” You softly said, taking a few steps toward him.

Tom didn’t have the energy to fight back so, he leaned back to sitting up straight and lifted his arms as high as he couldn’t which wasn’t much. You grabbed the ends of his t-shirt, peeling it off him and tossing it in the hamper behind you.

You kneeled in front of him, “You got it?”

“Yeah, thanks, baby.” He grunted, holding in his pain.

You nodded, placing your hands on his face and caressing your thumb over his cut cheek. A tear trailed from your waterline, hurt to see him in the state he was. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, giving a light kiss. You ran your hand through the nape of his curls before getting back up and putting your hand on the doorknob.

“Just yell if you need me.”

He just nodded in response, wincing as he stood up and you closed the door.

You let out a deep sigh as you walked back to the kitchen, cleaning up the pots and pans you had forgotten to wash from yesterday. It was something to do while Tom was showering, not wanting to think that this wouldn’t have happened if Maggie didn’t come back into his life.

Tom’s phone buzzed on the counter, making you glance at it. The cracked screen lit up but there were a few bloody fingerprints covered on the glass. You picked it up and wet a rag, wiping off any of the dirt and blood from it but you saw an email that was sent to him a few hours ago. You didn’t want to put your nose into his business, but it could have been from the clinic.

Your thumb hesitantly pressed his code in, opening his email account, but you saw it was just a letter from a subscription. Your lips went to the side, feeling bad for snooping until your read an email that he had opened earlier. The timestamp was during his shift, not knowing if he saw it before or after, but your heart fell when you read the document.

“Based on the DNA analysis, the alleged father is excluded as the biological father. This result is consistent with the statement that the alleged father (Thomas Holland) is not the biological father of the child.”

tags/taglist: @felicityparkers @dhtomholland @duskholland @strawberrytom @itstaskeen @tomhollandsgirlfriend @bi-writes @infinite-imagination @honeyspidey @hollandcrush @sunsetholland @pparkersbitch @namoreno @calltothewild @spideyspeaches @veryholland @osterfieldshollandgirl @slutforsebstan @bi-lmg @sunshinepeterparkr @annathesillyfriend @madmadmilk @antigoneidk @hollandcreep @wierdflowerpower

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x female reader #dad!tom #bartender!tom

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years ago

Text

death march matt Murdock x reader

+++++++++

this one has been in the drafts for a bit and i finally finished it so i hope you guys enjoy. writing has been slow recently as i havent had much free time and am still trying to rewatch all the netflix marvel series. but i am still working on requests and stories that ive had started for about a month so hopefully the rest will be out soon, along with some frank castle stories now that ive reached the first season of the punisher

prompts: "You need sleep." "I get sleep" "getting knocked unconscious does not count as sleep"

song: saints of the blood by black veil brides

tag list: @cynic-spirit @juniebugg

+++++++++

i sat back on my knees and groaned. matt and i were both covered in blood and he was still writhing around on the ground. but the men around us that were out made me a little proud of all that we'd done. it had been weeks of tracking them down, taking out one ninja at a time until we found were they were all hiding.

"i need a vacation."

he noted as he got to his knees and i laughed.

"you and me both D."

he laughed back as he stood, almost doubling over as he clutched his side. i was quick to stand then, helping him, steadying him.

"whoa, hold up there daredevil, i saw that last punch. broken ribs isn't gonna get you anywhere."

he inhaled sharply.

"and what do you suggest i do?"

i snorted.

"you know the answer to that already."

he shook his head as we limped towards the door together.

"yeah, i shouldn't have asked."

°°°°°°°°°

when we got back to the apartment i was quick to get him to the couch. every move earned a hiss from deep in his chest as i tried to get his jacket off. i figured his ribs were broke but i was more worried about the cuts and stab wounds.

"alright human x-ray, what's the damage?"

he sat quietly for a moment and listened. then he closed his eyes and sighed.

"what do you think?"

i touched his side lightly.

"oh yeah, they're definitely broken. but there's something else. what is it?"

he blinked slowly before wincing as he tried to resituate himself on the couch.

"the cut below my rib is almost deep enough for it to come out."

i made a gross face.

"so maybe this time we really should get you to a hospital."

"no."

he said quickly and i sent him a look.

"matt, if i don't there's a good chance you'll die."

"no hospital."

i bit my tongue as he laid back.

"fine, ill do the best i can but if you if you start fading on me im doing it. this job is bigger than me, and Claire for that matter."

his jaw tightened.

"what would we even tell them? you're not in any better shape."

his breathing was shaky and staggered. i looked to my knuckles on my right hand as i held the cloth to his open wound. at this point i couldn't tell what was my blood, what was his blood, or what was the blood from the men we'd fought in the back of that abandoned warehouse. and then i looked to my left hand, god it was so much worse. my first two fingers were for sure broken, my wrist not in any better shape, and i had a gash almost the length of the back my arm.

"ill think of something, but right now we need to focus on getting you out of this outfit and keeping you from bleeding out. i don't need the paramedics figuring out what we both do in our free time."

°°°°°°°°°

as i sat in the chair beside matt i tried my hardest not to fall asleep. the beep of his heart monitor was very lulling and the morphine they had given me didn't help. it was a little amusing though to look at the two of us; we practically looked like mummies with how wrapped we were. my left hand was broken in eight places, my wrist in two. the cut on my arm was deep enough to need stitches near my elbow but nowhere else, thank god.

"y/n."

i heard him say quietly and i sat up abruptly, no longer tired.

"im here matt, its okay."

i said softly, taking his hand in mine.

"where are we?"

he asked and i let out a laugh.

"metro general."

he deadpanned.

"i thought i told you-"

"i know i know, but i was losing you. i kept checking your heartbeat but you were losing too much blood. and i couldn't live with myself if id let you die. not after all that hard work."

i said the last bit with a hint of amusement and luckily he smiled back.

"what did you tell them?"

i let out a nervous laugh.

"i told them we were walking home through a bad part of town and got jumped, pushed into a back alley by a couple guys, large and in masks. i told them that they all looked the same, same height, same clothes, and only one of them spoke; that he demanded we give him all that we had on us. i told them that you tried to be brave and push me out of the way and that they didn't like that; that they beat you up, attacked you, then attacked me and once they got me on the ground stomped on my hand and ran."

he nodded solemnly; rubbing his thumb over the back of my right hand. the bruises were prominent still, cuts deep to the bone that i hadn't let anyone see since we'd been here the last ten hours.

"that's one hell of a story."

"as far as they know it was one hell of a fight. but you're still my hero; stupid and stubborn, but still a hero."

he smiled, almost laughing but groaning in pain and rolling his head back against the pillows.

"hey, take it easy, you need to heal, You need sleep."

"I get sleep."

he said matter-of-factly and i sent him a look.

"matt, getting knocked unconscious does not count as sleep."

he looked to the ceiling and swallowed hard.

"look, ill call foggy and Karen and tell them you were awake and they can visit later but for now you need all the rest you can get. you lost a lot of blood, and i know you, you'll want to get back out there as soon as possible. but for right now i think its okay to let the others handle the city for a bit. ill talk to Trish, see what she can do with Jessica's help. you know Danny would be willing to do something."

he shook his head.

"no, don't, its fine, I'm fine."

"Matthew, you have three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and you almost got sliced all the way through. I'm calling at least one of your super friends to take the mantle for a couple weeks. hells kitchen survived over a year without the mask, I'm sure it can survive a little longer. just until you're healed."

he sighed, closing his eyes again.

"i hate when you're right."

i smiled, squeezing his hand lightly.

"if that were true, you wouldn't have married me."

i stood up and kissed his forehead.

"Mrs. Murdock, the voice of reason."

he said softly and i leaned down and kissed him properly.

"keeping the love of my life alive one day at a time."

"thank you."

i studied him for a moment as i stood back up.

"get some sleep, ill be right here when you wake up."

#wattpad #x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #imagines #one shots #marvel #the defenders #338

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curious-menace · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do headcanons of any Riddler getting cared for and gentle kisses from reader after getting beat up? He needs some loves.

SO I MAY HAVE SUGGESTED THAT MY ULTIMATE FANTASY IS TO GIVE RIDDLER A HUG WITH BACKRUBS AS HE TELLS ME ABOUT HIS DAY AND I STAND BY THAT WHOLE-HEARTEDLY .

i freaking love this stuff so im going to do all of them mwahahah

post asswoop riddlers getting loves

Arkham riddler

He’s VERY quiet, which knowing him and his inability to stop talking, is bad news.

I paint arkham riddler as a cry baby and i stand by that. this is the hill i will die on. He’ll have dragged his sorry ass into your apartment or house , dripping blood on your floors but he wont bother calling for you. he’ll just sit at the table with his head in his hands having a lil pity party until you find him.

when you do finally get home, he’ll be looking like a kicked puppy. he’s gotten stuck in his own head, mentally beating himself up even more. he got a fright when you came in because he was so caught up he didn't even hear you at the door.

He’s literally sits there like a child with his arms up for you to come scoop him up. he’s not even sure why his first thought after getting beat up was to come here, he’s probably lead the cops here or something and that was so stupid and- you should probably give him a lil soft smooch on the head to stop him before he goes into a spiral.

he needs more emotional and mental care than physical. Talk to him while you're patching him up. any topic, it doesn't matter just keep him focused on your voice and not the one in his head calling him dumb.

he wont admit he wants to be held and coddled after something like this. get your softest blankie and 2 mugs of coco with marshmallows and just ramble at him. tell him about your day or ask him to explain something boring and complicated so he’s focusing on that rather than how upset he is. let him sit on your lap or between your legs on the sofa and watch how its made or mythbusters or something until he falls asleep. he should be ok again in the morning, he doesnt stay down for long.

Blacklight Riddler

He’s used to getting his ass kicked, either by batman, the other rogues or once he’s a PI, by unhappy clients and the people he put away. He might be tiny but he’s pretty tough.

even if he’s really hurting, his probably trying to crack jokes and tell blood and bruise related riddles. He doesn't like to see you worry so even if he’s in a lot of pain or a bit upset about things, he’s trying to make you smile.

he likes kisses on his bruises. even if he just banged his hand on the table he’ll come to you because he wants you to kiss it better.

He’s a decent fighter, unlike a lot of riddlers who couldnt fight their way out of a paper bag. He can throw punches but he lacks in defence and with his bad knee, dodging can be a little hard. even if he wins the fight he’s still likely to need you to patch him up.

He likes kids plasters. like hello kitty and spongebob. no im not joking, he ALWAYS wanted them when he was little and his parents always said no. now he’s an adult he’s going to use them whenever he damn well pleases.

if it was a particularly bad one, he’ll be ok in the moment even if he has to go to hospital. But he’s going to drop the facade at some point and let you see how upset he is. winding up in hospital after being beat was a common occurrence in childhood. even after doing it time and time again as an adult it doesn't make it any easier on him. he’ll want to stay in your bed, be close to you for few days until either he starts to heal or something snaps him out of his funk.

BTAS Riddler

he really prefers other people to do the fighting for him. well physically anyway. he can handle his own arguments...most of the time. He’s going to need you to nurse a bruised ego more than anything. he probably got dunked on my batman or crane and now he’s huffing.

i don't know if this counts as care and kisses but he clearly needs you around to keep his sorry ass alive. he hurt his side in a fight once and said he wasn't hurt. believable... until he started to act a little confused, a little dizzy. needless to say it worried you enough to take him to emergency care.

He was obviously in agony by now but he was still fighting with you the entire drive there, insulting you and insisting he was fine. its a good job you took him when he did, turns out he’d ruptured his spleen and would probably be dead if you weren’t around to act like his common sense.

he still hasnt apologised for that. or any of the other times you insisted on medical care to stop him from pushing up daisies. he just pretends like you know he’s grateful so he doenst have to admit he’s bullheaded, stubborn and worst of all, wrong.

if he has been seriously hurt, he acts more indignant about it than anything. he wants to be waited on and pampered while resting in bed. he can be a genuine pain to deal with, talking about how lucky you are to see him in such a vulnerable state and how you should be grateful he’s letting you do this for him.

He doesn't want to admit how much he actually needs you. his goons wont put up with him when he’s like this and he’s freaking paying them to do it. you do it for free and no matter how annoying he is you havent left him yet. he doesn't tell you but youve noticed he starts getting you more gifts about a week after he’s recovered. like its taken him a day or two to work out he should probably thank you for all you do.

Original Riddler

this riddler is just weird. like he gets a freaking hang nail and he pretends like he’s dying. but he could nearly lose a limb and he’ll say “tis but a scratch” and still try to hobble about like nothing is wrong.

actually he’s more like olaf “oh look i've been impaled.”. he probably tries to laugh off life threatening injuries like its nothing, taking maybe 3 steps before he collapses on his face in a blood puddle and lets out a tiny “help”

good luck moving his tall lanky ass around. better get a gurney and maybe those vets at the zoo who deal with giraffes. seriously if you want to take care of him you are going to need help or some sort of action plan and a go bag because with his limp butt this will not be easy.

he’s kinda like BTAS riddler in that he needs you to tell him the injury is serious. hes not dumb he just has a high pain threshold and genuinely doesn't realise that injuries are as bad as they are.

he can be a bit of a baby while being patched up. he doesn't like a lot of blood or gore, it makes him feel a little sicky. better give him your phone to play with like a kid at the doctors or put the tv on for him to watch while you bandage him. word of warning, he will pass out or throw up if you try to give him stitches.

i think you should focus your love and attention on him AFTER medical care. just focus on the job, be silent and as fast as possible to get it over with quickly. you should probably bring him something sweet too. no not just you, although you are sweet for looking after him. give him something sugary because he’s going to be light headed after seeing any blood. maybe you could give him a lolly for being a good patient.

Telltale riddler

this riddler is essentially a metahuman. he can REALLY take a beating and bounce back fairly quickly. just look how many times batman punched him in the face and it barely stunned him! he doesnt usually need patched up after a fight. maybe just a lil smooch and some hugs

he did really need your help after the whole pact thing. having his friends abandon him hurt like hell, more than any physical injury ever could.

after that, he clings to you. almost obsessively so; we know he’s got some serious mental illnesses but he usually has the worst of it under control, even without meds. now? it seems like he’s experiencing ptsd and is afraid to go anywhere without you, like you might up and disappear if you arent in his line of sight at all times.

i think this riddler might need the most intense care from you. hugs and gentle reassurance wont be enough. you’re going to be responsible for taking him to therapy, keeping him taking his meds and grounding him to reality. this is the kind of responsibility you took on when you got involved with him but i doubt you realised how hard it would be. i cant promise it will all be worth it but i can promise he wont ever forget your kindness.

the kind of care he needs after such a hard knocking down is just stability. im not one for romance or any mushy gushy stuff but please just pour your love into the cracks in this poor mans soul.

its hard going, but he has his moments. his gallows sense of humor is still there and hey, after him being in and out and gone for so long, it might be nice to have him around more.

Zero year riddler

INSUFFERABLE LITTLE SHIT THIS ONE. he could LITERALLY be bleeding out in your arms and he’d STILL be backseat driving on your medical skills. the temptation to just leave him there to bleed is INCREDIBLE.

he’ll drop the act eventually. he’ll ask and maybe even beg for your help. man has no shame and all the self preservation instincts of a lemming. dont get me wrong, he can be a total coward some times, only looking out for himself . but when he’s actually hurt ? not a fuckin clue. does this head wound need an ice pack or heat pack? is this spurring blood wound worthy of medical care? no idea. he was a very sheltered child who never got so much as a bruise so he has no idea what to do when he’s hurt.

he gets the everloving shit kicked out of him on a clockwork basis. like you could hear knocking on your door at 3 am and already be at the table with a first aid kit like oh its tuesday riddler must have broken his nose.

he takes entirely too much joy in making you patch him up. youre starting to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose just to see you in your little apron and latex gloves . he’s getting off on this and you know it but god help you, you just cant resist his dumb face asking for your help and would you also wear this pink nurses outfit while youre at it?

one time he lost a LOT of blood. he would be fine but he was pretty damn loopy from lightheadedness. while you were trying to get him into bed to rest he started flirting with you. can you believe the audacity? he’s lost 3 pints of blood and he’s still more focus on his libido?

he’s actually going to be both humble and grateful for your help when he finally comes round. dont get me wrong, he’s still a bit of a prick but at least he says thank you for saving him before he demands you kiss all his booboos and ouchies.

nonnie i am having a stroke. i was trying SO hard to just pick one but i COULDNT because i am WEAK for hurt and comfort.

theres a reason i have a tag that literally says “i have naughty hands and no self control”

someone needs to stage an intervention

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

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kevinexyqueen · 4 years ago

Text

An fanfic where Neil starded working for the Hatfords after his mom died but he is already dating Andrew and join the foxes anyway

so, andrew and neil meet in juvie when neil was like 14

he stayed there for 3 or 4months while his mother worked some things out

and there he bonded with andrew, told him some trues (he was 14 he was not thar good at keeping secrets yet) , they make a deal, a lot of drama etc etc

and then he has to break out from the place and andrew is like

" i'm going with you"

"no, you're not"

"yes, i am"

andrew can be fucking stubborn so yeah he goes with neil

(he already knows about aaron is a way to put more distance between them)

mary is pissed off, but andrew knows to much and she was not about to kill him

and she sees the way that andrew protect neil so in the end andrew stays with them

is not like someone will put real effort in looking for a foster kid

so she shows andrew how to use a knife (I think she didn't stop teaching neil, is a too valuable habilit)

and also a gun, and i have a headcanon that Andrew is just awful with it, and neil loves to make fun of him

anyway, they protect each other, kill some people, fall in love, learns russian, spar together, normal teenager stuffs

mary does not know, andrew doesn't like her but he doesn't kill her because he knows she is the only reason neil is still alive

they started dating after a year since they meet, so neil was 15 and andrew 16

idk neils/nathaniels age makes me confuse

also, andrew convinces neil to play exy without she knowing

(btw i forgot to mention neil was stefan when thet meet and alex when seattle happens)

and well like a just said Seattle happens

and after that neil can't just keep running, he won't be responsible for Andrew death as well

sooo, yep he calls stuart

Stuart tells them all the moriyamas bullshit, etc etc

they go to the FBI, neils is officially neil abraam josten, Andrew becames andrew minyard etc

after that andrew goes to live with aaron and Neil goes to england, it was safer that way for both of them

STUART KILLS NATHAN/LOLA YEAHH

continuing, they keep dating, long distance and all, andrew goes to england every month at least and do little jobs for neil's family

neil only do some translation works and he is pretty good at making deals (the irony) so he deals with a lot of other mobs family's and is like a lot people think he should become head of the family but that's a long history

anyway, all the canon shit with Andrew happens the same way, Tilda, Nicky, he turning down the ravens and he join the foxes

but he has some Hatford people watching over him so he doesn't beat all those man alone and doesn't take his meds (just needs to see a therapist for a couple of years)

even with all the Mafia shit neil still plays exy and he is better than he is in canon since he have been practicing with andrew for a few years (and also he spars with andrew so hr is a wayyyy better fighter and he also uses the knifes cause of andrew insistence and again all the mafia shit)

anyway, the Hatfords know about them but Andrew's family/the foxes (same thing, no?) doesn't

they come with a plan to take down the moriyamas and i have that in my head but don't know how to explain

but neils deals with a lot of mafia family's right? so like if the moriyamas kill him the Hatfords and idk the chinese as well will take revenge, and the moriyamas would loose since they are dealing with a war in japan and kengo is in hospital, nathan is dead etc etc

so, too much trouble to kill neil, so neil makes a peace offer with ichirou that while he is in the eau he won't kill him or the other foxes

so like, if rikos touches them he will be carving his own grave, and thats the whole point, cause Kevin's hand proven that riko's doesn't have any self control so the fucking plan is making riko angry

and we all know how good neil is at this, andrew is not happy

so yeah, neil needs to join some exy team and of course he will join the foxes because his bf right

NOW EVERYONE FINDING OUT ABOUT NEIL

because like, they are together for years, and not as much hurt as they are in canon, they didn't feel the need to tell anyone but they also doesn't care to hide and yes they hold hand in public and things like this

now neil only come on the same day the upperclassmen return cause there was no need for him to come early

so, like a hour before the reunion in the lounge andrew is like hey everybody in the car now or you're walking

and everyone is like ???? especially when andrew makes kevin go in the backseat

and he goes to the airport and nobody understands nothing, until neil comes

and he just completely ignores everyone im the backseat (yes even Kevin) and looks at andrew >that way< and andrew is a man in love, so he leans and gives neil a quick kiss and neil smiles at him and with a fucking soft voice says "hey baby"

andrew did not blush

anyway they started driving and andrew has his hand on neils leg and aaron, nicky and kevin are just fucking shook, they have no reaction at all, no words nothing because WTF

so when neils turns and says "hey guys, i'm neil" and is meet with three shocked faces staring at him he is trying so hard not to laugh and just goes "are you all okay"

nicky's is the first to recover and well... nicky... "ANDREW, WTF, YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND, WHY DIDN'T U TOLD US, WHAT ABOUT REENE, WHAT"

andrew ignores him and turns on the radio, neil lights a cigarette and they start talking in russian

aaron doesn't say a word

anyway, neils fly was a little late so they're the last ones at the stadium

so when they enter the lounge and andrew is waking with some scary dude (because yeah neil can be pretty and scary) and when they sit in the sofa with thights to shoulders touching everyone is like what the fucking hell

aaron and nicky find some other place to sit, neil does some remark and they start talking in russian and yeah they don't know if they should ignore or no

until dan breaks the spell by asking since when andrew speaking russian and andrew just look at her completely bored until neil answers her

after that wymack (which as always is so fucking done) asks if they have some more languages to show off or if they could start

they both deadpan "yes there is" but are ignored

anyway during the reunion some try to ask questions but wymack stops them and neil and andrew just glare at the person and that's enough to make they shut up

until Aaron makes some shitty remark about both of them in german and neil goes to protective mood and roast aaron in the same language

nicky has to stop aaron from punching Neil (and andrew won the bet he made with Stuart about someone trying to punch neil before neil punches someone

and again wymack is so done

and then they break the news about the ravens coming south

which andrew and neil already know because Hatfords

andrew is still pissed off at kevin

and then neils says (on purpose) something about the moriyamas and everyone is staring at him like????

and the he just smile a little >that smile< and says "you really don't remember me kevin"

he wasn't wearing contacts or anything like that so Kevin's recognizes him

it's caos

but i'm to tired to keep writing sorry

#the word anyway was overused #thay just crossed my mind i know ots shitty #but hey if someones wanna make it to a fic talk to me please #andrew and neil being together for years and shooking everyone #i live for that #imagine the foxes reaction seeing them sparing and neils kicks Andrew's ass #i live for that too #aftg #all for the game #all for the game headcanon #all for the gay #neil josten #andrew minyard #foxes reaction #tfc headcanon

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novannna · 4 years ago

Note

“Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.” with novissa (bc I love them) por favor?✨

ahhh tysm for the ask rae!!! I haven't written them in a while and theyre so fun to write!!! i love them so much ahfagsdf

i dont even know how to summarize this, just novissa fluff ig??? im not really sure asdfhdf theyre just gay idiots in love takes place some time before the start of renegades. (nova and narcissa are together)

wc: 1553 ao3 link

Narcissa tapped her fingers against her leg impatiently. Nova was late. Nova, one of the most punctual people Narcissa knew, was late. It was probably fine. She was fine. She was Nova after all.

But Narcissa couldn’t help but feel a squeeze of panic in her throat. She just needed her girlfriend to be alright. She needed Nova in front of her, so she could look at her warm brown eyes, and know that they were both fine.

Fuck.

Narcissa could feel her breaths start to quicken, and her vision grow a bit hazy around the edges.

She tried to take deep breaths, and calm her rising heart rate.

“Nova is fine,” she muttered under her breath. “Completely alright, just a bit late. There was probably something blocking her path. Most people are late all the time. I’m sure that’s what happened.” Her words did little to quell the fear. Nova had never been late before.

She had even promised she would be there on time.

I’ll see you monday, 7 pm sharp, Nova had said. You know where? Narcissa had laughed, and pushed a strand of hair behind Nova’s ears. Of course I do. Good. I’ll see you then. Nova had kissed Narcissa’s lips, hesitantly at first, but then harder as they both sank into each other, desperate to stay away from reality. Don’t be late, Narcissa had said half heartedly as they drew away, aching for Nova’s familiar warmth again. Late? Nova had laughed. I wouldn’t dream of it! And then, with her typical Nova flair, she had swung over the side of the railing, and raced away into the night. And now, three days later, Nova wasn’t here. Narcissa looked at her watch, wishing it would say that she was early. 7:27

“Fuck,” Narcissa muttered. Almost half an hour, and Nova still wasn’t there. She’d been the slightest bit angry before, but now she was just scared. Scared for what could have happened to Nova. If she died, Narcissa would be the only one who cared. Nova didn’t have anyone else. No one else would miss her. So Narcissa loved her all the more, trying her best to make up for the Anarchist’s shortcomings. “Cissa!” A voice shouted, and Narcissa turned to see Nova, alive and healthy and safe Nova, running towards her, a bouquet of flowers clutched tight in her hands. Narcissa felt her heart jump around in her throat, the way it always did when she saw Nova. Nova with her short black hair, shot through with streaks of blue, Nova with her black eyeliner drawn to perfection (Like Honey insisted), Nova with a beat up leather jacket, looking like some teenage romcom love interest. But, despite how absolutely breathtaking Nova was, all Narcissa cared about was that she was safe and alive.

Nova was grinning, and she embraced Narcissa, hugging the girl tight to her while spinning her in a circle. Nova’s infectious joy sank into Narcissa. She couldn’t keep a smile off her face, even if she tried.

Nova cupped her hands around Narcissa’s face and pulled the taller girl down for a kiss.

Narcissa gladly obliged, practically melting under the contact.

Finally, Narcissa drew away, the simple motion taking all her effort. She could stay tangled in Nova’s lips forever and ever without complaining.

“You’re late,” Narcissa accused gently. Nova tucked her head, and nodded. “I’m so sorry, there was a problem, and I had to stay later than I thought. I know I’m terrible.” Nova scuffed a foot against the ground. “But, I did get you flowers. To make up for being such a horrible girlfriend.” She presented a small bouquet of forget-me-nots to Narcissa.

Narcissa lit up as she lifted the soft blue blooms to her face and inhaled deeply. “Thank you Nova, these are beautiful. And you aren’t a horrible girlfriend, you’re the best. I was just scared.”

Nova nodded, not needing to ask why. They both knew the reason.

“Well you don’t need to be now, because I’m here to protect you.”

“What makes you think I need protecting?” Narcissa protested. “Maybe I’ll be the one protecting you!”

Nova laughed, the rough sound sending waves of happiness through Narcissa. “I’d happily accept your protection. I know I would be in the best hands possible.” Her face sobered slightly. “I am really sorry for being late, I feel terrible. If it ever happens again, I’ll find some way to tell you. You shouldn’t have to-”

Narcissa cut her off mid sentence by stepping forwards and pushing Nova's hair off her neck, exposing a large bandage, stretching from her left shoulder, across her collarbone, and dipping out of sight into her shirt. The bandage was more red than white at this point though, from blood leaking through.

“Is that blood?” Narcissa asked, a familiar panic rising.

“Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” Nova tried.

“You are literally bleeding.”

Nova’s small frame was stiff, ready to run. “There was an accident,” she said tightly. “Right before I left. Things got out of hand, and well- you know how they can be. I got caught in the middle of things, and well…” she gestured haplessly at the bandage.

Narcissa could feel her heart tearing at the pure hopelessness in Nova’s voice. The girl had gone through so much, and all the Anarchists had ever given her was trauma. Narcissa just wanted to hold on tight and never let her go back.

“I’m so sorry Nova,” Narcissa whispered.

Nova laughed quietly, trying to defuse the tension. “It’s fine. It wasn’t anyone’s fault really. Ingrid was just being a jerk, goading Honey, and Honey tried to shut Ingrid up by throwing her jewelry box at her. Unfortunately for me, I was just walking by, and Honey has spectacularly bad aim.”

Narcissa nodded. God, all she wanted was to have Nova get away from that place, but Nova was too damn set on revenge. She couldn’t see how much it was hurting her. Narcissa was afraid she wouldn’t realize until it was too late. And all Narcissa could do was watch. Once Nova had her mind set, there was no changing. No amount of sweet words and promises could stray Nova from her path of vengeance.

“You did a shit job of patching yourself up, Nova,” Narcissa said instead. “You’ve already bled through.”

“Yeah, well I was in a hurry to see my girlfriend,” Nova retorted. “I don’t suppose we could patch me up before continuing the evening?”

Narcissa laughed a little, and pressed a gentle kiss to Nova’s mouth. “I suppose. It’d do me no good if you bled out before we even ate dinner.”

“I suppose not. Seeing as you are the smart one between us, is there a chance you could fix me?”

“You’re plenty smart too, love. But yes, I can help you. For a price of course.” A smile danced over Narcissa’s lips.

“I’d expect nothing less from the grand daughter of a world renowned black market weapons dealer.” Nova smirked. “What’s the price?”

“Kisses, and moonlight walks, and as many piggy back rides as I want.”

Nova tipped her head back, laughing. The fading colors of sunset shine through the strands of her hair, illuminating her head.

“You drive a hard bargain, but I suppose I accept.” Nova brown eyes gleamed. “Do you require a down payment?” She stood on her tiptoes, her chin almost level with Narcissa’s.

“Nova, let me save you before we start making out!” Narcissa scolded, but without any force behind the words. Truth be told, all she wanted to do was lose herself in Nova, but she had other things to do first.

Specifically, stitch the large gash on her idiot girlfriend’s shoulder up.

Nova rolled her eyes. “So pushy.” She smiled up at Narcissa. “Fine, my savior. Where to?”

Narcissa laughed, and pulled a small blue flower out of her bouquet, and tucked it behind Nova’s ears. “There’s bandages at the library, as well as some other supplies. We’ll go there, and then you can carry me to the river, and we can look at the stars while making out.”

Nova grinned. “Sounds like a plan. But, you are taller than me, so shouldn’t you carry me.”

“Well, A, I have absolutely no strength at all, I live in a library, what did you expect, B, my terms for fixing you included piggy back rides, and C, I know you like carrying me, and showing off how strong you are.”

Nova grinned, and nodded. “Very true. I suppose I better start carrying you now!”

Narcissa’s eyes widened with realization. “Wait Nova, No!” she shrieked, but it was too late. Nova scooped her up, and tossed Narcissa over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. A flurry of petals fell to the ground. It was comical really, 4 foot 11 inches Nova, carrying 5 foot 7 inches Narcissa with ease.

“Nova, you’re injured!” Narcissa practically screamed. “Don’t you dare hurt yourself more!”

Nova simply laughed, and started walking towards the library, Narcissa still slung over her back, laughing.

Narcissa sighed, and gave up. Nova was too stubborn to argue with. “You’re an idiot,” she said.

Narcissa could imagine Nova’s lips curving up into a smile as she said, “I love you too.”

#asks #ask game #ask requests #rae tag #ty!#my writing #novissa #wlwrenegades #nova artino #narcissa cronin #renegades #archenemies #supernova #anarchists

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dazaisfavoritewife · 4 years ago

Text

Bakusquad with a black s/o - Someone calls you a racial slur

This idea has been on my mind for SO LONG! You might be wondering, “Then author-Chan, why didn’t you write it before?” WELL BECAUSE IM LAZY- So, I hope you enjoy :) -btw I’m going to use female pronouns, so if you want a male version or part 2 let me know-

~~~~~~~~

Bakugo

He is so appreciative, like this dude could care less about what skin color you are, but he just thinks your skin is BEAUTIFUL! Like, YES!! Racist Karen’s? Mans gotcha back.

But this one time, a racist bitch, *cough* BETHANY *cough* she called you a racial slur (even if I am african American i’m not saying it) and you obviously had to mop the floor with a hoe!

“Y/N, stay the f*ck away from my man!” Bethany screamed at you, you just rolled your eyes and stared straight at her.

“I’m sorry? Who’s your man?”

“Bakugo! You know that you ni-“

Oops! Bethany accidentally fell on your foot.. Then your hand.. Then your knee... She got beat the fuck up. While you were beating the absolute hell out of Bethany, the bell rang, but you were too busy with Bethany to notice that everyone was heading to lunch.

You snatched her by her hair, and started beating the crap out of her, when everyone saw they were frozen just there like ‘O’ but, Bakugo was cheering you on.

“YEAH! BEAT HER ASS N/N!”

You still didn’t give a fuck and just smirked, until your home room teacher, Aizawa came into the hallway.

“L/N! Bakugo! Detention after school!”

Best believe you just looks at him like, ‘N what?’

Bakugo just shrugged, and aizawa told us to go to lunch.

“This isn’t over Bethany..”

Then you just dropped her, grabbed Bakugo, and skipped to lunch, him proudly walking with you while everyone just stared at you in disbelief at how you’re acting like nothing happened after you just beat the shit out of a hoe. Not sorry!

Kirishima

Like Bakugo, he thinks you’re beautiful! He also thinks you’re real manly, because there are so many people who don’t think you belong in ua because of your skin, but he just deals with them himself.

But one day, someone took it too far and three girls game up to you and their leader just started insulting you, and one of them said a racial slur, you weren’t having it.

“Oh look! It’s Y/N! I thought you would’ve given up on becoming a hero, I mean how could you be popular when you look like.. That?”

“Like what? A badass? A queen? Beautiful? At least I don’t have 55 layers makeup, I have a thing called natural beauty.”

“What beauty? All we see is a ni-“

Oh no! They all somehow ended up on the floor with a bloody nose! Oops! You accidentally made your boot and their head best friends..

“I’m sorry, I can’t *thump* hear you other the *thump* noise! *thump thump thump*”

Needless to say, you beat all their asses. And in an instant you’d beat anyone and everyone’s ass if they even dared say a racial slur.

So, while in the process of beating three bitches asses, all of class 1-A came out of home room because aizawa wanted them to come and get you because you’re their friend, and they saw you beating the fuck out of three girls at the same time, and they all just stared at you in awe, and shock, except for Iida. He was against it obviously. And Bakugo, Mina, and Kaminari were cheering you on.

“Yeah Y/N! Kick their ass!”

“You got this Y/N!”

“Yeah! Whatever reason you did this, great job!”

“L/N That is not appropriate in school or outsie of it! Please refrain from beating people up!

Aizawa heard cheering and yelling outside the classroom and got annoyed, and went to check to see you beating three girls asses and the Bakusquad, (this time all of them) cheering you on.

“Is there a good reason for this? Otherwise detention.”

“These *thump* bitches *thump* thought they could try *thump thump thump* call me a racial slur.” Iida shut the fuck up real quick, and everyone was shocked that he actually started routing for you!

“...Continue.”

Then he walked back in the classroom. We stan men who don’t support racist bitches.

Kaminari

Kaminari respects you, you don’t take anyone's shit. Plus you’re beautiful, that’s a bonus to him. There were two particular people once who were giving you weird looks because of your skin, you just laughed in their face while Kaminari electrocuted them, then brought him home after he short circuited.

But one stupid bitch didn’t know how badass you are. So they tried using a racial slur, but we all know we don’t stand them. So this bitch named Rachel walked up to you and just started trash talking.

“Why are you even in the hero course? You don’t deserve it.”

“Because I earned it. You don’t deserve to be in ua at all if you’re bullying someone superior to a lowlife.”

“Whatever, you’re just a ni-“

She didn’t get to finished her sentence before you just roundhouse kicked a bitch, then just started beating the crap out of her.

“Say it again. I DARE you.”

While you were beating the shit out of her, class 1-A and aizawa just heard a bunch of loud and some very quiet crashes and thumps, and a lot of yelling.

“What in the entire world is going on out there..” Aizawa mumbled.

All of class 1-A including aizawa opened the door and walked into the hallway, to see you literally slamming her face into a locker, and occasionally kicking and punching her.

“Holy shit..”

Everyone was stunned, but Bakugo was laughing his ass off.

“L/N, what are you doing!?”

“SHUT UP IIDA!”

“U-uhm L/N..? Why are you hurting that person..?”

“THEY TRIED, THEY REALLY TRIED ME!”

“What did they do?”

“SHE THIUGHT SHE COUKD SAY A RACIAL SLUR”

“YOU GO! THATS MY GIRL!”

“Oh, everyone back in the classroom. Everything’s fine.”

Then they just went back into class like their classmate wasn’t beating the shit out of a girl. Needless to say, someone had to pull you off of her before you killed her.

Sero

Sero is a supportive king, and very underated. He thinks you’re the most beautiful women he’s ever met, and mans is extremely protective because once someone made a comment about your skin and you just ignored it but it kinda hurted :(

But one fateful day for two boys, they made the terrible mistake of saying a racial slur, they really thought they did something by getting beat the fuck up.

“I don’t know why they let YOU in the hero course.”

“I don’t know what led YOU to believe I’mma take your shit.”

“Whatever. You’re just a ni-“

And he just magically fell to the floor! Oh no! His buddy accidentally got slammed into him after! Damn it, they accidentally made contact with your boot!!

Class 1-A and 1-B heard you beating the shit out of the boys, so the teachers went into the hallway to see what the commotion is, but the students being their nosy selves went to see too.

Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Vlad King went into the hallway to see you beating the fuck out of two kids, class 1-A and 1-B looked through the door, and Bakugo just started cheering you on, so did Sero.

“Yes Y/N! Fuck em up!”

“I knew I chose the right one! Yes Y/N!”

Kendo being one of your friends, started cheering you on too.

“Go Y/N! Yes queen!”

Aizawa just turned around and walked back into the classroom after telling the students to go back to their seats. Vlad king broke you away from them though.. Aw shit you got detention.

Mina

(I got lazy on Sero’s because after Kirishima I took a break and started writing Kaminari’s after, and it’s 1 AM so I’m tired and watching YouTube to stay awake, this is probable gonna be shitty, they all are honestly.. I’m sorry btw I believe the theory that Mina is black so roll with it if you don’t)

Mina knows that you’re the most beautiful wiman alive, and you’re her queen, and vise versa.

One day this bitch named Ashley decided to insult your guys’ relationship and called you a racial slur, you definitely weren’t having it when it comes to Mina.

“Hey Y/N I heard you’re dating a girl.. That’s gross.”

“Hey Ashley, I heard you eat d*ck. That’s gross.”

“You’re a nasty ni-“

Ashley couldn’t finish her sentence because she was slammed into the locker, and became best friends with your fist and boot, whoops!

So, everyone was heading home because the final bell rang and everyone was packing up, and they were leaving their classrooms, and they all saw you beating the shit out of Ashley, and Mina was just smiling the widest smile that shines so bright, and she started cheering you on with Bakugo.

“Yes my queen! Beat her ass!”

“Yeah Y/N! Beat that extra!”

You got one last HARD kick in, before aizawa came up to you and pulled you off.

“Let me go!”

“Why were you even harming a student?”

“BECAUSE THIS HOMOPHOBIC BITCH CAME UP TO ME AND STARTED TALKING ABOUT ME AND MINA AND ADDED IN JUST THE CHERRY ON TOP AND CALLED ME A RACIAL SLUR!”

Aizawa went quiet and so did everyone else, then he just let you go and walked away, and everyone else just left the school like it was a normal day, we stand most of the people here.

(In case you’re confused on why it said Raven I accidentally put my name for this kind of stuff,sorry)

51 notes · View notes

cagestark · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Im not sure if you are taking prompts, but if not pls just ignore this (I LOVE YOUR STUFF ANYWAY UR GREAT ❤️❤️❤️) What about a PrisonInmate!Tony, PrisonInmate!Steve and PrisonInmate!Bucky all trying to get their hands on freshly employed Officer!Peter who was just trying to do his job. Smut? Shenanigans? Lots of good/bad/cheesy flirting? Anything would make me so happy!!!

Hope this works for what you wanted. I had a lot of fun, feel free to hop in my inbox and let me know if you’re satisfied. I tried working Steve in but :( still not very good at writing him. Bucky is a stretch for me, too. Did what I could though! Especially considering I scrapped what I had, wrote this in 10 hours, and didn’t even glance it over skskskks sorry for errors.

Warnings: some violence, smut, drugs. 7.5k. Peter is 22!

Read here on AO3!

The first time Tony meets Officer Parker, Tony is shackled at the waist and ankles to eleven other inmates from Lincoln Correctional Facility. He reaches up with bound wrists to scrub at his facial hair hoping that he isn’t as scruffy as he feels, eyeing the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed little twink who would be driving them twenty minutes to a nearby park There they would be giving restitution to society by picking up plastic soda bottles, cigarette butts, and used condoms from under the dugout benches at the baseball diamond. Thinking of the millions of dollars he stole from his father’s company (plenty of which was still offshore and safe), Tony figures that a week of this and his debt will be repaid. He and society can call it even.

“He’s green,” Bucky mutters from beside him. He tracks the younger man’s pale eyes to Officer Twink. “No question about it.”

“Hey Fury,” Tony says when the black officer goes by, doing a head count. He motions with his bound hands to Parker. “I didn’t know it was bring-your-white-child-to-work-day. Are his legs long enough to reach the pedals in the van? Does he have his permit? Where did you leave his Hot Wheels battery-powered jeep? Will we all fit in the back, because—”

“Pushing your luck,” mutters Steve from Tony’s other side, goody-fucking-two-shoes that he is.

Fury stops walking, actually doubles back to stand in front of him. “You want me to drag you out of line, Stark? You can spend the rest of your day inside washing dishes. Or in solitary, if you feel like being an asshole like usual. Don’t fucking test me,” Fury says. He’s a real hard-ass. Tony likes him well enough.

Beyond them, Officer Parker is blushing to beat the band having heard Tony’s criticism of him. “I’m twenty-two,” he mutters, and Tony nearly groans. Beside him, Bucky does groan. This kid is so, so fucking green. What kind of dummy correctional officer just spills personal information in front of convicted felons?

The harder inmates are going to eat him alive.

If Tony doesn’t eat him first.

“Twenty-two huh? When’s your birthday, sweetheart?” Tony calls. “I’ll drop a postcard in the mail for you—"

He hears the slide of chrome on leather as Fury draws his baton. Tony has just enough time to be thankful it’s not his taser before it is jabbing him in the chest. With his feet and wrists shackled, he has no real way to keep himself upright. He ends up sprawled ass first in the dirt. Steve and Bucky have to adjust to avoid falling themselves and likely taking the whole line down with them.

“Did you just threaten Officer Parker, Stark?” Fury asks, bending over him.

Tony squints up against the sun. “If my heartfelt affection is threatening, then—”

“One more word and you’re spending the week on D Block.” D Block is solitary confinement, and if there is anything more painful to Tony, he doesn’t know what it is. Being alone with his thoughts, no one there to fill the silence, walls so thick he can’t even hear the shouts from other inmates around him—it’s enough to drive him to the edge. He folds.

“Parker,” Fury barks. “Give me your keys. Stark isn’t coming on the field trip.”

“How else am I going to repay society?” Tony asks, holding up his wrists so Fury can unchain him out of the line. Fury doesn’t dignify him with an answer, and it’s probably for the best. Words tend to pour out of Tony’s mouth without thought even at the best of times. And he really isn’t looking for spending the first week of Officer Parker’s employment up on D Block getting his trays through the slot in the door.

While Fury undoes the locks with practiced ease, Parker stands back practically wringing his hands. He looks distraught, downright upset to be honest. When he catches Tony looking, the kid turns red and looks away. God. Fucking adorable.

Tony glances up at Bucky who is looking straight ahead with the smuggest fucking smirk. He winks at Parker and the kid literally has to turn away, probably before he has a stroke, because Bucky is a good-looking guy. And he’s going to spend the entire week, eight hours a day picking up trash while being supervised by Officer Twink.

“You lucky bastard,” Tony says to him.

“Bucky’s probably got him bent on all fours in one of the dugout’s right now,” Tony mutters unhappily around an unlit cigarette. They aren’t supposed to smoke inside—it’s against the rules, actually, not just frowned upon—but in times of anxiety, he likes the familiarity of it between his lips. He picks up his dealt cards from the table and glances at them: a straight. Not bad.

“Should have kept your mouth shut,” Toomes says from across the table. His joy at Tony’s dismay is poorly disguised behind his own hand. “That’d be you, right now. Picking up trash in Manhattan. The highlight of your day getting your dick sucked in a dugout littered with caramel corn and old wads of chewing gum. God, how the mighty fall.”

“Could be you right now, too,” Tony offers genially. “But those domestic violence charges mean you don’t even get the chance to go on field trips, huh?”

“Not to mention,” Rhodes says from beside him, a dark-skinned man with a generally unhappy face, and serious disposition. He was one of the only people on the block that Tony genuinely trusted—that sort of trust was hard earned. They’d even exchanged addresses so they could communicate after one or the other gets processed out. “No guard would risk their job for a suck job with you, Toomes.”

“Brutal,” Tony says, holding out his hand to shake Rhodes’s. “True, but absolutely brutal.”

“Thanks,” Rhodey says dryly. “Is someone going to call, or what?”

Toomes ends up storming off, leaving his hand flat on the table. When Tony flips it over, he only had one pair. Unfortunate bastard.

“He’s going to give you problems, Tony,” Rhodey says. His dark eyes are still tracking Toomes who is sulking across the floor back to his cell, where he stands in the doorway, scanning the room. “He’s not showing you respect, and he’s not meshing well with the block. It’s going to come to a head soon.”

“Is this foreshadowing?” Tony asks lazily.

Rhodey just stares.

Tony is dozing in his cell when a large form takes up the doorway. He slits his eyes open to see Bucky there, fresh from a shower with his jumpsuit half-undone and tied around his waist. The white wifebeater he wears shows off his arms, including the gnarly scars on his left shoulder from his last tour overseas. It clings to skin that is still a little wet, and Tony licks his lips.

“Hey snowflake,” he says, voice raspy. “Come to rub it in?”

Bucky sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the concrete wall. “His name is Peter. He graduated from the academy last May. This is his first job—if you don’t count the food joint he worked at as a kid. And his birthday is August tenth.”

Tony scoffs. “What, you didn’t get his social security number too? I’m disappointed. And I don’t believe you.”

Bucky holds up a scarred hand, solemn. “Swear on my tags.”

“How the hell could you have found out so much about the kid in a handful of hours? With Fury marching around no less.”

The smile that slides over Bucky’s face is so fucking handsome. Downright sensual. “Fury didn’t come. He was just there for headcount. It was Coulson escorting us with the kid. He spent the whole time sitting in the van with the AC and radio on, chainsmoking. You’re going to shit yourself, Tony. This kid is so fucking sincere and sweet—” Bucky throws his voice into what must be a poor impression of Peter’s trembling voice. “—thanks Mister Barnes, you’ve been so friendly. I’m glad my first day was spent with you.”

“Aww fuck. Goddamnit. Son of a bitch.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re going to get your chance. He told me today was just to break him in. Tomorrow? He’s on the block. And don’t worry, I put in a good word for you. My friend Tony, I said, he’s one of the most solid guys I know. Arrogant as fuck, but a sweetheart underneath the ten different layers of ego and narcicism.”

Tony’s eyes shut. His hands come together in a prayer position over his chest. “Oh thank you, sweet Jesus.”

“Thank me,” Bucky says, wiggling his eyebrows.

In the back of the cell is a curtain that can be drawn shut while an inmate uses the facilities. It’s where most sex happens during the daytime, when anyone is liable to walk by and glance into a cell. Tony jerks a thumb at it. “You want to see what lies behind curtain number one, Buck?”

“Sure. I’m feeling lucky.”

Showers open at dawn, and Tony is one of the first inmates there. He takes extra time soaping himself up in the lukewarm water. By the time trays are brought in, he is dressed with his hair combed. The tank top he wears is white as is required for all clothes that aren’t jumpsuits, and it looks good against his tanned skin. Tony looks fucking good for his age—which is somewhere past thirty and before fifty, thanks, don’t worry about it.

He’s halfway through a tray of biscuits and gravy with more-than-decent hash-browns when Officer Parker comes in, the door of the block screeching open. He’s escorted again by Coulson. They tend to keep senior officers with green ones, because it’s so easy for the new guys to fall prey to inmates, whether by manipulation, intimidation, or sheer manpower. Tony has seen it happen. Tony has caused it, himself. He didn’t end up as the top guy in the block by shaking hands and kissing ass.

Coulson points out things around the block: the cells (obvious), the showers, the cameras. Tony isn’t close enough to hear what’s being said, but he can imagine. Guards come in every hour during the day and every two hours at night to stroll around the block peaking into cells. Even when they aren’t a physical presence on the floor, they are always watching behind the cameras. That will be Peter’s job today: walking the floor. Every sixty minutes, he’ll walk right by Tony in his cute little dress blues. They look too clingy to be at all efficient, especially on Peter’s lithe little form, narrow hips barely able to support the holster on his waist.

Peter turns around and Tony gets a nice glimpse of his ass—God, he wants to bite it.

Bucky looks less enthusiastic today, hair pulled back into a wet bun, dark circles under his eyes. They’d slept in the same bunk last night, but when he’d awoken in the morning, Bucky had been gone. Nightmares, probably. “Now who’s the lucky bastard?” he mumbles around his fork.

Tony. Tony is the lucky bastard.

When Coulson and Peter go by, Tony calls out, face wearing a winning smile. “Good morning, officers.”

“Good morning,” Peter says sweetly. When he notices that it is Tony who spoke, his eyes double in size. Obviously, Tony has already made an impression. He plants his chin on his palm, elbow resting on the table, and lets his eyes rove over the green boy. Unashamed is his middle name.

“Inmate number one to watch out for, Parker,” Coulson says. But Tony thinks there’s a little affection underneath the vacant expression. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“I’m hurt, Phil,” Tony says. “Really hurt.”

“Stark is here for fraud, and he’s a master manipulator.”

“That’s better—stroke my ego, Phil. I love it. Go on.”

Coulson looks unimpressed. “Give him a wide berth.”

Peter nods obediently. His eyes trail over to Bucky and he lights up, squinting with a smile liable to outshine the sun. “Good morning Bucky! How are you?”

Coulson looks liable to have a fucking stroke. Lips twitching, Bucky salutes. “Doing great, sweet thing, how about yourself?”

“Can’t complain,” Peter says, blushing prettily.

Coulson ends up having to drag him off. Tony can’t imagine the dressing down he’s going to be receiving once they’re in private. Actually, he can, and it’s an image he cherishes. It wouldn’t hurt for the sweet kid to have some sense knocked into him by the other guards—before one of the inmates knocks it into him for them. The thought makes Tony’s fist clench around his fork. If anybody is knocking anything into Peter, it will be him. And Bucky. Preferably at the same time.

“You can hold him down,” Tony says lowly to Bucky across the table. “I’d like to see your thick arms wrapped around him. He looks like a squirmer, so sensitive. You can keep him still with nowhere to go, sitting on your cock, and I’ll suck him off. I bet he cries.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, eyes half-lidded. He makes a stabbing motion with his plastic fork. “Or I’ll end up in the bathroom at the park beating off.”

“I like the thought of that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t.”

The next time Peter comes around, he is alone. Tony, Toomes, and some of the other guys are sitting around the table playing poker.

“Afternoon gentlemen,” Peter says cordially. Tony is immediately smitten—the kid is trying so hard to be a Big Boy. It’s so fucking endearing. All Tony wants to do is drag the kid by the belt to the nearest cell and suck him off.

“Afternoon, handsome,” Tony says.

“I hope there’s no gambling going on,” Peter says, his arms cross across his chest. Jesus, his arms are skinny but fucking built, muscles straining beneath the cuffs of his shirt. There’s strength there. He’s reminded suddenly that this kid did pass the academy, so he does have some training under his belt.

“Gambling is against the rules, officer,” Tony says brightly. He takes the cigarette from behind his ear, hands desperate for something to do, and tucks it between his lips. “Do we look like rule breakers to you?”

Peter shakes the hand of each man around the table. Tony would have to be blind not to see the looks he’s garnering: incredulity, attraction, calculation. Toomes looks like he’s about to cream his jumpsuit when his rough hand wraps around Peter’s soft, tiny one. The look he shoots Tony is smug.

“Do I get a handshake, Officer?” Tony asks sweetly as the kid is trying to make his escape.

He looks at Tony’s hand like it is a trap. Tony softens.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong before,” he says gently. “I just want to say, Welcome to LCF.”

Peter takes his hand. It is just as soft and smooth as it looks, but the grip is strong and firm, and Tony feels irrational pride—look at this little boy standing up to him, so fucking fearless. He makes sure to keep the handshake simple and wholesome, even though it hurts to let go. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, he agrees.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” the kid breaths and fuck. That goes right to his cock.

“You’re quite welcome,” he purrs.

The guards work 2-2-3’s, predictably. That means that Peter will have two day shifts, two days off, three night shifts, two days off, two day shifts, three days off, so on and so forth. The next two days with no Peter to look forward to and Bucky spending the 9 to 5 picking up trash are some of the dullest he’s ever had. Rhodey is the only consolation. They spend a lot of their time watching television together or playing chess.

And nights are spent with Bucky. They take turns topping, pressing each other into the mattress and muttering a litany of dirty prose in each other’s ears. Peter makes a lot of appearances in their repertoire, and some of the best orgasms Tony’s had in ages come from imagining him walking into his cell someday to find Bucky sucking off Officer Parker, or the other way around.

Sometimes, Tony has to go behind the curtain in his cell and pretend he’s taking a shit, when in reality he is jerking off to the thought. Popping a boner during poker isn’t exactly welcome.

The night shifts aren’t ideal. From 6 pm to 6 am, Peter will come in to walk the floor, shining light into cells to make sure everything is up to code. There isn’t as much time for conversation, but Tony figures he’ll be happy to spend the night awake in his buck just for the glimpses of Peter he’ll get. God, he’s fucking worked up over this kid. Mr. Stark, he called him. Jesus.

When Peter comes in at six, it is to general greeting suffused with catcalls. His face turns red as a tomato, but he smiles, looking pleased by the comradery.

“Hey doll,” Bucky says when he strolls by. Trays came in a few minutes prior, so they are eating. Salisbury steak tonight, disgusting—but the gravy isn’t half bad. Peter waves, coming over.

“Hi Mr. Barnes. Hi Mr. Stark.”

“It’s Tony, sweetheart,” Tony says. “Even Coulson calls us by our first names. You can do it too.”

“T-Tony,” Peter stutters.

“Say it again,” Tony purrs. “You need to get your practice in now.”

Bucky kicks him under the table. “You’re going to give him an aneurysm. Sorry Pete—Tony is a bit of a horn dog. He’s what the kids call thirsty.”

Peter laughs, hiding his smile behind his hand. “Yeah, I could have guessed. Is he like this with everybody?”

Tony goes to open his mouth, but is stopped by the increased pressure on the arch of his foot by Bucky’s boot under the table. When he glances over, Bucky looks earnest, serious. He puts a scarred hand over his heart. “No sir. Swear on my service tags. You’ve got us all smitten.”

Peter melts. He bites his lip, casting Tony a shy but warm glance. “I—you guys are so nice. I better get back to—yeah—”

They both watch Peter’s ass as he walks away.

“You smooth motherfucker. I need to start taking a page out of your book,” Tony mutters. He rubs his ankle softly against Bucky’s. It’s the most affection they’re willing to give each other out on the floor. Affection is weakness here, and as the guy who runs the floor, Tony knows he has a big target on his chest. He’d rather not make it any bigger. For him, or for Bucky.

It’s nearing ten PM. Lights go out at 9:30, and while not everyone is asleep, the raucous gatherings are contained to individual cells.

Like Tony’s. He is biting his knuckles, panting as Bucky sucks him off. They’ve spent the last hour cuddling in the bunk, running their hands over each other, muttering dirty things between them. He’s been hard for the better part of that hour, and it’s only now that Bucky has shown mercy on him, tugging him up to sit on the edge of the bunk, knees spread wide. He rucks up Tony’s wifebeater over his abs and chest to rub a thumb at one of his nipples, causing his cock to jump.

“Let’s give a show, baby, huh?” Bucky whispers before swallowing him down. Tony jolts, barely managing to cut off the groan that builds up in his throat.

Bucky gives head with enthusiasm and without shame, probably because he looks so fucking hot without his inhibitions, and he knows it. Eyes closed like Tony’s cock is the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his mouth, Bucky drools and chokes himself, sometimes pressing Tony’s cock up so that he can mouth at the older man’s balls, taking them into his mouth one at a time.

Tony holds off his orgasm for as long as he can. He loves this, loves how aroused Bucky gets from sucking cock, whining around it, one hand reaching between his own legs to jerk himself off.

Then comes the light. It blinds Tony whose eyes are accustomed to the darkness. He gasps, jerking backwards in horror at being caught, but Bucky’s hands grab his hips and wrench him forwards, taking him deeper.

There comes a gasp, high and effeminate.

Peter.

The flashlight fumbles and clicks off, but Tony doesn’t hear the footsteps move away. His eyes readjust to the darkness, and he sees Peter’s form standing in the doorway, one hand up to press against his mouth.

Bucky chokes himself, swallowing around the head of Tony’s cock, and something about being watched—being watched by Peter—has Tony gasping, fisting Bucky’s long hair and fucking into his throat as he cums. He barely manages to keep his eyes open through the pleasure, because now he can just make out the dim form of features on Peter’s face, eyes half-closed, and knuckles clutched between his teeth.

He likes what he sees.

“Jesus, baby,” Tony whispers, stroking Bucky’s hair. The man stands up, pants slung to his ankles, fisting his naked cock furiously. The low cots mean that when he cums with a groan, he stripes Tony’s chest with it, and he loves it, fucking loves marking and being marked by Bucky. “You wanted to give Peter a show, huh?”

The sound Peter makes is tortured. He turns and nearly sprints away, perfunctorily walking down the rest of the cells, glancing in to make sure no one is smoking or hoarding blankets or any other thing.

They sit side by side on the bunk, panting.

“All part of the plan, handsome,” Bucky mutters, pressing a tender kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“Petey came to my cell last night,” Toomes says the next day. The guard on duty is in Tony’s palm, so Tony smokes unabashedly and without fear of repercussions, flicking his ash in a neat pile next to him, because littering isn’t cool.

He isn’t sure what his facial expression says, but he hopes its as stony and unbelieving as he feels. “Good for you, Toomes. Did you finally get that suck job you wanted?”

The other man scoffs, waving away Tony’s accusations. “He’s too skittish for that. But he saw me reading. Frankenstein. Did you know he’s a big reader, Tony?”

Tony didn’t know. He tries not to let it show how rankled it makes him, that there is any part of Peter that this vulture has picked off before Tony or Bucky.

“Maybe you can start a book club,” Tony suggests.

Beside him, Rhodey snorts into his cards.

“He’s full of shit, Tony. You know that,” Bucky soothes. He’s sitting on Tony’s cot, freshly showered, watching Tony pace, cigarette clutched between his lips. The younger man is getting a tan from his time spent out in the sun picking up trash. For a fair skinned, fair eyed man, he tans surprisingly well. Tony certainly appreciates the aesthetic.

“He’s not. Not about this, at least,” Tony mutters. “Peter waved to him tonight at dinner when you were getting your tray. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look at Toomes with a pleasant expression. I can’t unsee it.”

“You poor thing,” Bucky says, sounding not at all sympathetic. “Look, the kid’s worked here for three days. This is his fourth fucking shift. Seduction takes time. You always do this—if something you want doesn’t fall into your lap right away, you get mopey. Where’s the Tony you always talk about, the one who had patience, who worked hard to reap rewards?”

“Worked real hard to reap my dad’s money, you’ve got that right,” Tony mutters. “You suck at pep talks, snowflake.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Then how about I just console you?”

Tony takes the cigarette from his mouth and points it at him. “Now you’re talking.”

It’s nearing two in the morning. Peter has been by a handful of times, face red when he glances into their cell. Bucky and Tony jerked each other off hours ago—shame he missed it—and have spent the rest of the evening sitting on the cot talking. Bucky does push-ups. Tony admires the view.

“I’m out of smokes,” Bucky says. He means pot—Tony doesn’t partake, but on night when Bucky does, sleeps easier and wakes more rested. “I need more papers.”

“I got ‘em baby.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony can get anything into prison. It’s about greasing the guards—and he makes sure to know which ones squeak and which ones don’t. Then he keeps them well, well lubricated. Whenever someone needs something (matches, drugs, porn, other contraband), Tony is the guy who gets it. But he’s not dumb enough to be the guy who keeps it. That’s on the straw men Tony keeps around the block. One houses the rolling papers. Another has the pot. There’s a cellphone in the cell beside Tony. And if there are shakedowns with guards Tony doesn’t have under his thumb, those men agree to take the fall, and Tony agrees to make it up to them.

It’s late and dark, most people actually asleep now. Tony feels his way down to the cells to the guy who’s housing the papers for joints. The guy snores to wake the dead, but Tony doesn’t care, letting himself in and going to the designated location.

It’s on his way back that he hears the noise.

Voices.

He’d ignore them—some guys will stay up all night talking—but one of those voices is too high.

It’s panicked, too.

Breathing heavier, he takes care to muffle his steps. He isn’t wearing shoes, and that makes him vulnerable in a fight, but he’s held his own in worse situations. The element of surprise will be instrumental in coming out on top—if he needs to. Keeping his breaths quiet, he follows the sounds to the showers, empty but still smelling damp and faintly of soap.

It’s definitely Peter’s voice.

There are windows here that let in the moonlight. Tony stands in the shadow of the doorway, watching and listening.

“Come on, Adrian, quit—”

“You come on, Petey. I’ll make it good for you. It’s got to be tough, being around all the men on the block, being flirted with all the time. Gets a kid hot and bothered I bet, huh? You’re a hot little thing. I saw the way you looked at me last night. I’m here for you, honey. You can use me—”

“I don’t want to. I could lose my job.”

“I’ll take it to the grave, Pete, I swear.”

Peter is pressed against the tiled wall between two showerheads. Adrian is pinning him there with his body, and the size difference is drastic. Peter is so fucking tiny and frail looking, eyes huge and frightened, hands clenching and unclenching even though he has a fucking weapon, come on Pete, pull your baton, your taser, your fucking gun—

Adrian’s hand drifts from where it’s caressing Peter’s jaw. It presses against his chest, fingering the buttons down Peter’s dress blues, and then palms the young man’s cock.

Tony sees red. He wishes he had the shiv he keeps hidden on the floor, but there’s no time to search for it in the dark, and he can make do without it anyway. Get Adrian down and then pull Peter’s baton, beat Toomes again and again and again until the man eats his meals through a straw or not at all.

“I said no, Toomes.” Peter grabs the man’s wrist and twists it expertly. With a strength Tony didn’t know could be contained in such a tiny form, he switches their positions to press Toomes’s face into the wall, grinding it against the tiles. The man struggles but Peter is holding strong, lithe little muscles bulging as he kicks the man’s legs apart so he can’t get proper leverage to push him away. Then he grabs his cuffs, and in a heartbeat, the larger man is subdued. “I tried to be nice, didn’t I? No means no, asshole.”

He wrenches Toomes away from the wall and they both turn to see Tony standing there. They all look at each other, mouths open. Then Tony lifts his hands and brings them together softly, a standing ovation.

“I’m not going to lie,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little hard right now.”

Peter scowls. “Not now, Tony. Go press the button to let the other guards know I need help.”

“No can do, sweet thing. But it looks like you’ve got it covered for yourself.”

Peter does, frog marching Toomes across the floor and out of the Block. Tony watches it all with an incredulous expression. And a chub. Even after they’re gone, he stands on the quiet, dark floor, pondering what he’s seen. When Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder, Tony nearly jumps out of his own skin.

“What happened?” he asks. “Was that Peter I heard?”

“Oh Buck. You won’t believe this yarn I’m going to spin you.”

Toomes doesn’t return to the block. More than likely, he is shifted to another block with more violent offenders. They tend to group inmates based on the charges against them and their charge history. Tony wonders what exactly he’ll be charged with now. Attempted assault of a police officer? It sounds delicious. Whatever the punishment, it will be too good for him.

Bucky is torn up. Coming home from war has left him sensitive to certain aggressions, and he often feels things too keenly. Takes things too personally. “No means no,” he says, voice thick, faced press into Tony’s neck as he holds him. “Why don’t people listen? No means no.”

“We know that. They know that too. They just don’t care, baby. We’ll see Pete tomorrow and find out how he’s doing.”

Bucky lifts his head. His eyes are cloudy and distant “Tell me again how he roughed up Toomes.”

“With pleasure,” Tony purrs. “He’s so goddamn petite, but his hiding some serious muscles under that uniform. God, it had me worked up, the way he knocked Toomes’s legs apart. The snap of the cuffs. When we get out of here, snowflake, we need to invest in a pair of those.”

Bucky snorts, but he looks pleased.

Part of Tony worried that Peter wouldn’t come in for his shift. He wouldn’t blame the kid; he’d almost been assaulted on the job. The guards had it tough. If it wasn’t sexual harassment, it was physical intimidation—the latter of which Tony himself had been guilty of. But he shouldn’t have underestimated their boy.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Peter says shyly. He’s got his hands on his narrow hips, but Tony knows that those fingers are long enough to wrap all the way around a man’s wrist, wrenching it back.

“How are you?” Bucky asks when Peter comes by.

Peter smiles, soft and gentle. “I’m okay, Bucky. How are you?”

“Better, now that I’ve seen your handsome face.”

Peter blushes, so susceptible to Bucky’s lines. Then he turns his eyes to Tony, and they grow colder. He barely nods recognition before strutting away. Tony can’t even appreciate the way the tight pants hug his ass, because he’s too busy with his mouth agape, jerking a thumb at the boy’s back and asking Bucky, “What did I do?”

That night they are waiting up for Peter the first time he makes his rounds. They decide to sit on the floor so as to be as non-threatening as possible (Peter went through a fucking ordeal yesterday, and they aren’t looking to add to his stress), Tony with his back against the edge of the cot and Bucky propped up against the wall, one foot flat on the floor and the other tickling Tony’s thighs. Yes, the bunks are that small.

As soon as Peter’s light shines in, Bucky calls for him gently.

Carefully, he steps into the room, shining the light towards the ceiling to cast a glow over all of them. His face is somber, but he smiles.

“Hey Bucky. What do you need?”

Bucky doesn’t beat around the bush. “We want to know if you’re really okay. Tony told me about Toomes. That guy’s a fucking piece of work. Hope some guys up on B Block crack his skull in—won’t be no skin off society’s nose.”

Peter shakes his head. “That’s not a good way to talk. That’s not justice. I’m doing fine—Toomes wasn’t hard to subdue.”

“You handled him like a pro,” Tony adds.

Peter’s look frosts over. “Like a police officer, yes. No thanks to you.”

Tony groans. “Is that why you’re mad at me? Because I wouldn’t go press the button for you, baby?”

“Don’t call me that. And yes. I thought we were—” Peter doesn’t finish. He blushes, obviously knowing how silly that sentence sounds: a CO being friends with an inmate. But it cuts Tony all the same, and Bucky’s look across the room is murderous.

“You didn’t try to get help? What the fuck, Tony.” His foot lashes out and catches Tony in the shin, and fuck that stings!

“I’m not a snitch,” Tony snaps.

“Look, I’ll leave you both to this—”

“I was going to handle it if Peter couldn’t—I was going to kill that son of a bitch. That’s how things work in here, you know that Bucky. This isn’t the military. There’s no honor or morals. There’s just rules, and the number one rule is no snitching. If there’s a problem, we handle it this way.”

Peter swallows. “Tony—you can’t just say that. I can’t—I’ve got to tell somebody that you said that, I think.”

“This place doesn’t have honor, but we do,” Bucky growls. “Or at least, I thought you did.”

“You know I’d have killed for him,” Tony says through his teeth. “Just like how I’d kill for you—”

“Would you fucking stop it?” Peter hisses. It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over them to hear him curse. His grip has gone white on his flashlight he’s so tense, lips pressed into a thin, furious line. “Why are you two doing this? Is it—is this just to, to fuck with me? I don’t get it, I—”

All the anger seeps out of him. He looks lost, tortured. Both of the angry men in front of him soften. What is it about this boy that melts them like wax under flame? Bucky shuffles up onto his knees, looking with his long hair like some knight from an old medieval story, begging for forgiveness of his fair lady.

“Pete, we didn’t mean to come on so strong. Please—will you sit for a bit?”

Peter glances back at the floor. It is dark and mostly quiet, some laughter coming from a cell further down the line. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “I need to do my job.”

“We won’t keep you here, if you want to leave. We aren’t like Toomes. But if you’re willing, we’d like to talk. Work this out.”

Looking torn, Peter sits. Tony and Bucky flank him, but the boy doesn’t look threatened in the slightest, just hunches himself over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Go ahead and talk,” he says.

“Bucky and I are together.”

Peter snorts. “I got that when I saw him sucking you off.”

Tony blinks. “Oh. Well that happens in here every now and again—some men will do anything in here for company, even if they don’t really swing that way on the outside. But Bucky and I—we’re pretty in love.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “He’s dumb. But I love him.”

Peter laughs a little. “Okay. Yeah. So you two are together.”

“We’re polyamorous,” Tony admits. “That means we have a lot of love to give and aren’t unopposed to giving it to multiple people at once. Bucky here, he’s got a boyfriend down the line, Steve—you know Steve?”

“I know Mr. Rogers. He seems nice.”

“He’s real nice,” Bucky smirks. “Our point here is that up until now, we’ve had passing flings with other people, but we’ve never shared anyone. We’ve never wanted to share anyone—until you. And now it’s like our stupidity has squared itself, because we both are falling over ourselves to try to attract you.”

He’s glad he’s letting Bucky take the lead. Tony might have a way with words, but Bucky absolutely has tact and softness that Tony can’t muster up in his wildest dreams. Peter is sitting between them looking red-faced but thoughtful. “So, what? You guys both want to date me?”

“We can’t exactly set up a table with a cloth and wine and dine you, princess,” Tony says. He tries to stay soft and honest, because his mother always used to say that honesty is the best policy. Peter looks like the kind of kid who would appreciate that. “As unfortunate as that is. I’ve got five months left on my sentence, and Bucky has almost double that. And as—what is it Bucky? Thirsty?—as thirsty as we both are, we understand that you wouldn’t want to put your job in jeopardy.”

Peter looks relieved by their admission. “I don’t really know how I feel, to be honest. You’re both—wow, you’re both really hot. Duh. But I don’t know you. Maybe I could get to know you? A little at a time? And once you’re out Tony, if I’m not seeing anyone, we could go out? There’s…” Peter swallows. “There’s definitely chemistry here.”

“Yeah, kid, I feel that,” Tony says.

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Bucky emphasizes, shooting Tony a look overhead that says keep it in your pants. They’ve been seeing each other in here long enough to have reached the telepathic portion of their relationship, thanks. “You’re already promising more than we could have hoped for. And we really appreciate you sitting down and talking things out with us. That’s never easy, doll.”

The younger man blushes prettily, shrugging. He stands. “I really should get back to work.”

“Okay, kid. Whatever you need to do,” Tony agrees. He shifts, hard in his sweatpants, the proximity to his lover and his maybe, possibly, someday lover has sweat beading at the nape of his neck and his imagination running wild. Peter’s eyes track his movements and then fall to his lap.

He licks his lips.

Honest to god.

“I—wait for me. Just—” Peter disappears, flashlight bobbing as he continues down the line. They can hear him popping his head in to a cell further down and telling the guys to please be respectful of the other inmates, thanks!

“Buck,” Tony groans. They smash together with no finesse, both of them stressed and horny from their confrontation with Peter. They taste like mint toothpaste they used before lights out, and Tony licks into the younger man’s mouth unabashedly, sucking on his tongue, licking at his teeth. “God, I need you,” he whispers.

“Take me,” Bucky urges. “Come on, baby. Take me.”

They shed clothes like they’re on fire. Tony folds Bucky’s legs up—for a large guy, he’s surprisingly nimble—and lowers his mouth to Bucky’s ass, licking a hot stripe over his hole and to his balls. He hears the hiss above him, the groan muffled by a fist in his mouth. Not for the first time, Tony hates prison. He hates that they have to be quiet, that they can’t let themselves go and love each other properly, just hushed romps like this in the middle of the night.

“What do you think he meant?” Bucky pants, fingers clenching on Tony’s hair. “Wait for me?”

There is a whispered groan from the doorway. They both turn to see Peter there, leaning against the bars, eyes heavy. “I meant wait, but I get it. God, I get it. You’re both so, wow, god.”

“He’s eloquent,” Tony says. They shift on instinct, turning so as to give Peter a better view. He turns off his flashlight and it takes time for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Peter stands with his back to the wall, hands clasped behind his back like he’s in handcuffs.

“I can’t—I can’t do anything,” Peter pants. “But I could watch. If you wanted me to.”

“Do you want to?” Bucky asks.

“God yes,” Peter breaths, voice high. One hand palms at his crotch. His uniform has him blending in to the darkness, but they can guess what he’s doing, and fuck that turns Tony on, like there’s fire in his blood. He goes back to eating Bucky’s ass, pressing a thumb against the rim to hold him open so he can slip his tongue inside.

“Jesus, Tony,” Bucky says. “Fuck me. Just fuck me, come on.”

Tony is in full agreement. It’s too much; they’re all too worked up. The sounds from Bucky, the sounds from Peter, the taste of his lover in his mouth—his cock feels fit to burst as he pulls it from his sweats. He doesn’t dare pump it for fear of blowing his load right away. God this isn’t going to be the best performance to share with their new love, but he hopes that Peter can forgive him if he comes off as a three-pump-chump.

He presses in slow. Bucky is still soft and pliant from their fucking the night before, and there’s no discomfort on his lover’s face even when he bottoms out. Bucky’s legs wrap around him and he urges Tony forward with his heels and voice: “Come on, baby. Fuck me. Give it to me. Put on a show.”

Tony knows just how Bucky likes it. There’s no holding back, just the brutal thrusting of his hips that has Bucky giving off choked noises, one hand pressed firmly over his mouth and the other scrabbling at the sheet on the cot. It only takes a moment for Tony to glance over and see Peter, hand flashing in the darkness as he jerks his own cock through his dress blues, and Tony is mounting the crest, balls contracting, stomach tensing.

Bucky blows first, untouched. Tony barely gets a fist around him when he realizes what’s happening, pumping furiously to help his lover through it. Then he is there himself, grip maybe too tight around Bucky’s cock, hips snapping desperately while he blows his load. It feels like it lasts forever. Was over so, so quick.

Even when they’re done, panting, sandwiched together, they hear Peter: breathy little whines from across the room. He stops jerking himself off when they stop lazily and lovingly grinding their hips together, but it’s obvious by the unconscious swaying of his hips that he didn’t cum.

“Take care of him,” Bucky mutters, pressing a kiss to Tony’s sweaty temple. “Get on your knees for him.”

“Yes,” Tony gasps. His cock slips free of Bucky, still tingling pleasantly. He walks on his knees the few feet it takes to be at Peter’s feet, staring up at his tortured expression.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps. “I can’t do anything. That’d be wrong—”

“Then don’t do anything, Officer,” Tony purrs. He reaches a hand up and rubs at Peter’s cock. The kid keens softly, thrusting his hips out even as he grips uselessly at the wall. He’s desperate for relief, desperate to get away. Tony bats his eyes, though no one can see in the dark. “Let me do the work, sir. Please?”

Peter swallows hard. He nods frantically, and that’s all Tony needs to undo Peter’s belt, wrench down his dress slacks and boxers. He doesn’t even get a good look at the kid’s cock, just swallows him down. It’s a nice mouthful, and he has to work to get the last inch or so, taking the head just into his throat. “I’m—I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter gasps.

Tony swallows.

Peter cums. Tony barely manages to pull back, desperate to taste him on his tongue. One hand comes up to work at Peter’s twitching cock, the other cradling his balls to help prolong his pleasure. The kid sounds like he’s never cum before in his life, hands gripping at the concrete wall, giving tiny aborted thrusts, mouth open and panting.

“Thank you, Officer,” Tony says, voice a little distorted from deep-throating. Peter slumps down the wall, knees shaking, until they’re kneeling across from each other. Tony can’t help it, he laughs a little. “You didn’t need to be worried about hurting me, baby. That wasn’t my first blowjob.”

It’s Peter’s turn to chuckle. “I did have good reason to be worried.” He cuts himself off, like there was more he was going to say, but stopped himself.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky asks. He’s lounging on the bed, watching them with lazy, sated eyes. He’s so fucking handsome, Tony crawls across the floor to kiss him and press the last of Peter’s cum into his mouth. The other man moans appreciatively.

“It’s kind of a crazy story,” Peter admits.

“We know a thing or two about crazy,” Tony says. “Try us.”

Peter’s clenches his hands together tightly. “It’s weird, actually. It has to do with a spider.”

Bucky and Tony share a glance, equal parts confused and amused. Tony settles in, leaning his head to rest on the cot beside Bucky. “Go on then,” he says. “We’re listening.”

Tag list: @crown-filth

#winterironspider #starker #winteriron #prison #drugs #violence #cagewrites

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 6 years ago

Text

She’s Electric (Number 5 x reader)

54A/N: wowowow so im not smart at all so hopefully i pulled the whole fake smart act because im pure clueless :))) hope yas enjoy :)) still havent posted the playlist of all the songs because my spotify has my full name and am not that commited for ppl to find this soo. and i also went a bit off like i hope this is what you want lmao.:)) stay fresh. (ok so you have powers in this and its more like portal jumping rather than spatial jumping so you like create holes and jump down ? if that makes sense(also if anyone gets the date hmu))

ASK: jellyxfulll:hi could you please do one where the reader is really smart, likes coffee and sarcasm (legit a carbon copy of him) like five and when he meets them he’s absolutely smitten ? i have a lot in common with him anD i wAnt to bE loVed bY mY fiCtionAl chAracteR

Words: 2146

Black coffee steamed in it’s mug as it sat out in the open, wind swirling it in different patterns. The swirls of steam looked like it was dancing a tango, as if the beat it was dancing too kept getting faster and faster until a sudden stop and the steam disappears, signifying the end of a dramatic dance.

Black ink stained up the side of your hand as you furiously wrote away, you just couldn’t get the equation right and you couldn’t use your powers, not yet. You were on the run from the commission as they wanted to use you for your powers, it was a valuable asset, time travel and dimension jumping, the Handler said it could open a whole new market for them but once you refused they came after you.

You’d got the equation wrong while you were running and you got stuck, you got stuck somewhere, an abandoned world that hadn’t been looked after. Years and years passed with you stuck in the wasteland of a world until the Handler came back but you couldn’t say no otherwise you’d die alone with no chance of seeing your loved ones again. So you became a killer to survive, you kept to yourself. In that world it was kill or be killed.

After years of service you thought you had the equation, endless nights of black coffee and sleep deprivation you thought you’d got it right. All you wanted to do is go and see your family again but next thing you knew you were 16 years old again and stuck in some random dimension but it was a start. You had removed any form of tracker the Handler had on you back in 1854 after completing your last mission.

During your time in the small town you’d managed to get a small job to rent a tiny one bedroom apartment, it wasn’t the best but it would do for the time being, until you get the maths right.

You let out an exasperated sigh, slamming your pen down on your scribble ridden page. It was a bright but nippy day meaning you could sit outside in peace and be uninterrupted. Griddy’s was always quiet on week days, the perfect time to go for a black coffee and just go over everything that’s happened, it’s good to do that sometimes, just to think and remember.

Reaching for your coffee, you underestimated the distance between the mug and your hand resulting in the mug falling. You open a portal under it so it falls right into your hand and take a sip, placing it down gently in it’s original place.

“How did you do that?” A boy was suddenly next to you, an excitable expression present on his face. He looked about the same age as you, but he had a look in his eyes, like he’d seen some things.

“What do you mean?” You ask, pretending to be confused, taking another sip of your coffee. You watched as he pulled the seat opposite to you out and sat down crossing his arms and legs simultaneously. He looked at you with a slight smirk.

“You’re y/n, aren’t you?” He leant back in his chair, scanning you up and down. “I’ve heard so much about you.” His eyes could tell 1000 stories but you could tell that he had no one to tell, no one would understand.

“huh, interesting, I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t really know who you are.” You say matching his movements but making sure you can have easy access to some form of weapon of he attacks. For all you knew he could be part if the commission finally catching up to you.

“I’m Five, ex-commission.” You narrow your eyes at him as he sticks his hand out, you take a glance at his hand. You reach out but just before you meet his hand you grab the handle of your mug, bringing it to your lips. Fives hand drops and he lets out a breathy laugh, crossing his arms again.

“I would introduce myself but you seem to already know who I am so I guess there’s no need.” You give him a sickly sweet smile before taking another sip. You had heard a little bit about Five, he had a similar story to you,stuck in an apocalypse, ran away from the Commission to see his family and tried (and succeeded) to stop the apocalypse.

Five couldn’t believe his eyes when he first saw what you did with the mug, there was only one person who he had heard that could do that, y/n. Five had heard rumours upon rumours about y/n, an example of some is that she was the most deadly killer the commission had ever seen and the prettiest person the universe had ever seen, and Five couldn’t agree more. He couldn’t imagine you ever killing anybody, your hair loosely hung with strands tucked behind your ear. Five took in your soft features, the warmth of your eyes and the freckles that littered all over your face and arms, presumably from the years in the apocalypse.

“It’s rude to stare.” You tell Five, not even looking up from your writings. Out of the corner of your eye you see him shift uncomfortably, averting his eyes. “Listen, I don’t know why you’re still here but if you’re lying about being ex-commission and are here to try and kill me I think you should reconsider your options because we both know who will make it out alive.”

“I’m not lying about being ex-commission, I know what it’s like and I think I can help you with getting back.” Locking eyes with Five, you saw the sincerity in his eyes. He held out his hand, you think about the worst possible outcomes from this situation, you take his hand.

You had never travelled the way Five normally does, you just were not used to it. As soon you reached the desired destination your knees gave out and a wave of nausea washed over you. A retching sound made it’s way out of your body as you cover your mouth with shaking hands, as if that would stop you from being sick.

“How the fuck do you travel like that?” You almost shout at Five, staring at him from the floor, you didn’t even know where you were, you didn’t care. Another wave came over you again along with a banging headache. The one thing that you were grateful for in the Commission is that they let you travel how you wanted, the first time you had used a briefcase you could’t stop shaking and being sick which wasn’t the most efficient if you needed to complete a mission.

With a flash of blue Five was holding a glass of water crouched down next to you. “Here take this.” He held the glass closer to you.

“How is making me sick going to help me get home?” You say cautiously taking the glass from his hand. You sit up straight and try to take a deep breath in.

“Just show me your equations, I’ll see what I can do.”

Days turned into weeks, then weeks into months. The more time you spent with Five the more you began to forget about the equation. Truth be told, you got the right equation about 3 weeks into working on it with Five. After years of being alone you liked spending all this time with Five, you were both equally as emotionally deprived as each other, both in need of a friend who you could relate to.

Feelings for Five was also a newly developed emotion, the more time you spent with him the stronger these feelings got and all of his family could tell. You had met the Hargreeves on many occasions, often getting comments about how much you had made him come out of his shell since he stopped the apocalypse. But it’s not like you wouldn’t do couply things, if that was even a word, you would hold hands, cuddle and exchange compliments back and forth all the time. It was done so casually, as if you both didn’t know what to do with your feelings.

You were currently laid down with your head in Fives lap as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair, occasionally twirling stands in his fingers. It was a summers day, natural light streamed through the open window, giving the room a natural glow.

“y/n,” He lightly taps your nose. “You’re really pretty.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. You knew you had to tell him at some point, about the equation, you just didn’t know how. Sighing, you sat up and faced Five, you noticed in the past months how his features had softened from the hard, brooding looks he used to give.

“Five, I’ve found the equation.”

“What?”

“I’ve found the equation.” You repeat with more force. “But I’m torn, I don’t know what to do.” You searched his face, trying to read the emotion. “I miss my family so much. But I don’t want to leave here, you’ve shown me theres so much in this timeline.” His face dropped.

Five didn’t want to sound selfish but he didn’t want you to leave, the past few months had been the best time of his life, he’d found someone who understands him. Y/N never questioned his coping mechanisms, you had actually made him accept his own past and move on with his life. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. Five eyes began to sting, he felt a wave of sadness but also anger, he felt himself getting warm, an uncontrollable range swept over, consuming any other emotion that was in it’s way.

“How long have you had it for.” Five had a quite voice, not looking you in the eyes.

“A few months.” You watch as Fives fist clenched. “Five I-” But he had cut you off.

“So you’ve just been leading me on.” Five eyes met yours. They weren’t the soft, welcoming eyes you had come to love, they were cold, hard and shut off, the only emotion you could see in his eyes was anger.

“What no, why would you-”

“Maybe you should just leave.” Your chest sank, Five let you go from his grip and stood up. He looked like the killer you had only heard about mere months ago, he didn’t look like your Five anymore. “Just go, y/n.”

So you did, no arguments, no questioning, you had gone. As soon as you left the room Five caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror but the reflection wasn’t him, it was the killer that he thought he’d left in the Commission, he was his clenched fists and cold eyes. He couldn’t believe he spoke to y/n like that, looking like this.

“Y/N!” He called out, he was in a cold panic. He kept calling your name out, traveling to your work, your house, all your favourite places but you weren’t there. Five had been told that you handed in your resignation at work and your flat was cleared, you had gone home.

Five didn’t know what to do with himself since you had left, he was constantly thinking about the what ifs, what if he acted differently, what if he didn’t snap. You had been gone from Fives timeline for almost a year, he didn’t have much to remember you by other than one picture that he had on his bed side table. The picture was taken by Allison of the two of you, you had both fallen asleep on the sofa downstairs, you looked so peaceful together as Five held you in his arms.

He fell in love with you in the time he had met you, the complexity of love confused him but he wanted to figure it out with you. He loved the way you talked, how you carried yourself, your smarts, your personality, everything. It was a cold night and Five wasn’t able to sleep, he just laid there staring at the ceiling. There was a strange noise, a noise he knew well, y/n.

“Hey Five.” You were breathless, it had taken you so long to find the right equation for the frequency of Fives timeline, to see him again.

Five couldn’t believe his eyes, you were really there. Without a second thought Five leapt out of his bed and crashed his lips to yours, he pulled away and tightly wrapped his arms around your frame.

“I’m so sorry y/n. I’ve missed you so much.” You couldn’t agree more, leaving was an impulse moment of anger, there was a gap in your heart that only Five could fill. “y/n, I love you so much.” He held your hands, his eyes were soft again, filled with love.

“I love you too.”

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golgoterror · 5 years ago

Text

Alright, this is ungodly long, but I just wanted to talk about something regarding Jake.

A lot of this fandom -- at least, from what I’ve seen -- label Jake as stupid. Some may even say Jake and smart are antonyms. This could not be further from the truth. It almost irritates me how much the fandom places this mischaracterization on him. Also, I get to talk about The Lad™ for about ten pages worth of words on Google docs, which is always very, very fun for me.

Well, first things first, let’s talk about the child genius and multi-billionaire polymath that is Jake English.

Puzzle Modus.

Let’s begin with something small. Jake’s modus is of puzzlekind! This is described as:

It's quite a handy modus, allowing you to captchalogue objects of any size, as long as you can fit them all in a finite space by maneuvering the cards around like a big game of Tetris. You like it because it keeps you sharp for solving any puzzles you might find when you go out raiding hallowed tombs, which is never. (x)

He likes puzzles! This is a huge headcanon I absolutely adore that has a basis in the comic: He’s a puzzles guy! This is just sort of a neat little fact about him that I adore to the moon and back. Just the idea of Jake fiddling about with a Rubik’s Cube is kind of adorable.

This is how he goes about doing everything every day of his life. I think that’s just amazing! And incredibly smart of him, I might add.

Skaianet.

Jake is shown in the credits to take over Skaianet after the game ended. For those unfamiliar, Skaianet made many things for the game, including but not limited to: the interstellar travel we see, transportalizers, the lab by Rose’s house, all Jake’s fancy-schmancy computers, and Sburb itself. In the beta timeline, Grandpa Harley founded Skaianet. In the alpha timeline, Grandma English did. I know Jake didn’t start it up and trying to pass off his alt-timeline self as him is a bit far-fetched at best, but he had the spoons to take it over. I think that speaks volumes for Jake’s intelligence -- this implies, at the very least, he can understand mathematics and physics at a high level. Remind you of someone we already know?

It is also important to note that Jake does, in fact, build the company back from the ground up, because it went to shit before his grandmother died:

GT: Pretty sure her company made a tidy fortune til it went belly up. At least i still have a few of her knickknacks for keepsakes. (x)

So he built an interstellar company back up -- using what his intelligent grandmother had once used -- to being very useful and practical once again.

As someone with a degree in mathematics and about to finish a degree in physics, I can say this sort of work would for sure require at the very least a decent understanding of quantum mechanics, statistical mechanics, electrodynamics, calculus (vector and differential forms), ordinary and partial differential equations, and perhaps other things like topology. I don’t know about you -- and I’m probably tooting my own horn a bit by saying this -- but I think that’s pretty nifty, if I do say so myself.

Actor.

Once again, I’m reaching into the credits to show that Jake has become a movie star after the game ends. Memorizing all those lines, slipping into characters... Being an actor is no easy feat.

( Side note: This leads into my headcanon that Jake can imitate accents and voices on a whim. No more arguing about whether he has a British, American, or Australian accent -- you’re all right! )

And I would like to add he has two jobs! Skaianet and being a movie star! This guy’s a fucking polymath for Christ’s sake.

Reading People.

Let’s start of simple: Brain Ghost Dirk. I can hear the outcries now of Dirk’s powers being the cause for this. And, yes, I can’t ignore Dirk’s influence in this, but Jake’s hope powers were also needed for the projection to come alive. And the fact he was able to make such a startlingly accurate projecting of Dirk in his own mind is astounding -- even BGD himself thinks so!

TT: You could view me as a projection of the real Dirk within your mind, as expressed through all of your thought patterns about him. TT: So I'm kind of a splinter of his corporeal self who happens to live in your awareness. TT: I'm a startlingly close approximation to the real thing, for all intents and purposes. GT: Just how startlingly close are we talking? TT: I'm not going to give you a bogus percentage like the glasses cause that's not my shtick. TT: But pretty damn close. (x)

A very deep understanding of the other is needed for Jake to do this. That is pretty fucking incredible. He can clearly read people really well -- he had a few times where he was cluing in on Jane and Dirk have feelings for him:

TG: its one of those things jane likes about u so much GT: It is? TG: which TG: errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr im not supposed to talk about 2 u evr so nm GT: Talk about what? TG: nope GT: You mean how um... GT: Well a way in which i suppose... TG: no nope GT: Jane is prone to looking upon me with what i fathom to be more than just friendly affection? (x)

TT: I guess call it an extra birthday present. But instead of a present that's awesome, consider it more like a weird confession that may change the way you feel about me. GT: Whoa uh... GT: Dirk are you... uh... GT: Saying what i think? (x)

He’s not completely clueless on people! In fact, he seems to have a really good understanding of his friends. That’s something a lot of people seem to forget because of the incident that I will be getting to later on.

Fending For Himself.

I’ve already written quite a bit on this, but I’ll sum it up here: Jake is exceptionally good at living in the wild and taking care of himself. Sort of like a wild garden; he doesn’t need to be taken care of. Survival skills, especially around fighting and fending off things, aren’t something everyone has. This, once again, counts in his favour, even if it doesn’t line-up with “book smarts”.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

That’s five things! It’s clear Jake is, in fact, a polymath and incredibly intelligent. So, what’s with the fandom painting him as being dumb? What’s with people actually thinking he’s stupid? I think we can all take several wild guesses as to why that’s the case.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Takes things literally.

This is something that plagues Jake quite a lot. Case in point:

GT: Wow like the epic kevin costner film? TT: Almost exactly. Especially by the same degree of shittiness. GT: Oh man does that mean you have to drink your own pee?????? TT: You get used to the taste. Welcome it, even. TT: That takes about 15 days in a row of hard piss drinking though. GT: Ewwwwwwwwwwww no dude. No ew. :( TT: Relax, I don't drink any goddamn piss, ok? GT: Oh ok. Whew. (x)

But, well, let’s address the elephant in the room. The chat I laughed so hard at when I read it the first time due to pure, unadulterated second-hand embarrassment: Jake asking Jane if she had feelings for him.

Let’s analyze this, shall we? Jake starts off by being vague as all Hell, and I’ll spare those details, until finally...

GT: Just come out and say it. Do you fancy me? GG: No! GT: I see. GT: Very well then. GT: Jeez i mustve really misread that one! I feel like kind of a bone head now. (x / x)

Okay, she says no, and he backs off. That’s fine and dand--

GG: No!!!!!! GG: Oh my God, what am I saying here? GG: Jake, I didn't mean it! I didn't want to make you feel that way! GT: Now jane lets not backpedal here. GT: Youve spoken the truth and i greatly appreciate and respect you for that. GT: But now that i think about it you know what? GG: ... GG: No? :( GT: Please dont take this the wrong way but your answer is actually kind of a relief! (x)

... Oh, right. Yeah. It keeps going. It just keeps--

GT: Actually since youve made your feelings apparent and only see me as a friend that makes it a lot easier! GG: Haha, yes! GG: Friends!!!! GT: Maybe you could help me sort out some stuff that has been weighing on me lately? GG: Well what are friends for Jake!!!!! (x)

Sweet Jesus, Jake.

GG: Me? GG: HOO HOO HOO! GG: I'm just GG: Terrific! GG: I'm feeling so... GG: Friendly!!! GG: I clearly just want to be a good friend and bring all my AMAZING FRIENDLINESS to bear on your problems. GG: Friendlystyle! Ahahahah? GG: Shit I mean GG: Ahahahah! GT: Thats aces. Jane youre a sweetheart. (x)

Alright, alright, enough! You all remember the fucking chat.

Regardless, it’s very apparent Jake takes things at face value. I also will cite him talking to Jane before her birthday, but not list examples, because what happened above will just happen once again.

Okay, so he takes things at face value. What’s wrong with that? He trusts people to not lie to his face -- to not sugarcoat things or beat around any bushes. Perhaps I’m projecting a bit, but I do the same damn thing. I think a lot of people do! I don’t think reading things as fact over text is a good measure of someone’s intellect. All it does is show he has issues with communication. Okay, so he struggles with one thing. Sue me.

Doesn’t catch things right away.

Yeah okay I’m just gonna dump a few examples of this.

GT: Haha wow. Must have been a hell of a guy. TT: So... TT: You're not making any connections there? GT: Where? Huh? TT: Famous comedian, about the age of your grandma, inheriting the family name of the Baroness... TT: Not ringing a bell? GT: What are you talking about! Dirk stop speaking in riddles and keep telling the story i am on tenterhooks here! TT: Ok, well it's not like it's that important. Just a super obvious thing that'll probably occur to you later when you're looking in the fridge you don't have, at which point you'll feel like an idiot. GT: Oh my god you can be one opaque motherfucker just clue me in bro! TT: Nah, it'll be funnier this way. GT: STRIIIIIIDEEEERRRRRRRR!!!!! TT: Moving on. (x)

GT: Whats going on? TT: Took you long enough to figure it out. TT: Pages really are a slow burning class. Damn. GT: Figure what out! TT: You're asleep. (x)

This leads into the point above. His mind doesn’t work that way -- but that doesn’t mean he’s not intelligent. He needs everything laid out in front of him so he can make the connections and understand what’s happening, but there’s no real harm in this, and it certainly doesn’t dictate whether the guy is “intelligent” or not.

There are many, many more examples in canon depicting Jake as having difficulties with communication and you all can open most of his pesterlogs and probably find one. I’m not going to list anymore. But, hold your horses, I swear I’m getting to a point!

Difficulty reading.

A lot of the media Jake consumes is picture-based. Movies, comics, even the puzzles are most likely spacial and probably not riddles. It’s not far to imagine Jake might not be a terribly good reader, considering nobody was really around to make him read. Of course, his grandmother was around when he was little, so he can read -- and he can read just fine. But he probably isn’t very good at it simply from lack of practice. He also has terrible grammar, something Jane picks on him for, so it’s entirely possible that’s a contributing factor. He may just have trouble reading and writing.

Speaking from experience, I have dyslexia. As such, reading and writing are incredibly hard for me. I never read the books in my literature classes -- both in English and French -- but I did get the gist of the books (enough to get a decent mark in the class at least) by watching a movie adaptation of the novel. I don’t think it’s that far-off to think Jake may, indeed, do the same thing.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

NOTE: This next part is a bit hard for me to write, because I don’t want to vilify any of you. It might not have clued in on anyone or maybe you just saw Jake as a sort of comic relief and meant no harm by it. And I hope shining a light on this will make you all think twice about the guy. However, I can’t really avoid this next part, and I may get a bit emotional in it. Just a bit of a warning.

All of the above points are just me trying to say Jake probably has undiagnosed learning disabilities and perhaps autism. I don’t think I need to go into detail about how those don’t make someone “stupid”. If you think that’s the case, fuck you. I can’t argue with ableists, much less do I actually want to.

NOTE: I wrote a thing on his speech impediments. That may be of interest too. I don’t really know, but here it is nonetheless.

My take-away message here is: just because someone struggles with socialization or other things doesn’t mean fucking anything in terms of their intelligence. Jake is very clearly smart and has the ability to read people incredibly well -- to the point of making copies of them! Perhaps it’s just a bit easy to underestimate the guy compared to other characters, though.

There are other things that muddy this up a bit, unfortunately.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Trolling.

Jake is such a fucking troll. Jesus shitting Christ, does he get a kick out of acting stupid just to make the other person look silly. Or perhaps even to make himself laugh in the process. Case in point:

uu: I WILL JUST BE YOUR PATRON DUDE. uu: OR MAYBE. YOUR PATRON MANBRO. GT: Sounds pretty gay. uu: WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? GT: Whats what? uu: GAY. WHAT'S GAY YOU IDIOT FUCK. GT: Oh right. GT: Forgive me i forget you arent familiar with all of my earth lingo. GT: Its like... GT: How do i explain. GT: You know. Its a rather old fashioned term for being jolly and festive together. GT: Like "that rollicking time we had scrumming the other eve sure was gay." uu: I SEE. uu: THEN YES. YOU ARE CORRECT. uu: THIS IS GOING TO BE GAY AS HELL. (x)

Look at his goddamn face during this exchange:

That little bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

And these aren’t stand-alone events! Jake is very, very silly and will use the fact others see him as stupid to have a little fun. May as well, right? And, in the process, he makes others look pretty damn stupid.

But sometimes it’s a bit hard to tell when he’s acting stupid against when he’s genuinely not getting something. I think he even fools himself sometimes! So you have to be a bit careful about fake-outs. I’m sure even the other alphas have trouble deducing when he’s doing this -- which only adds to the myth of him actually being “stupid” when viewed on first-glace.

He probably also does this with crushes, purposefully ignoring the signs because he doesn’t want to deal with it or may not believe anyone could like him that way. After all, if he’s wrong, he may think himself to be conceded and having a big head. So, he ignores the signs, thus convincing himself the feelings aren’t there. Then he gets absolutely fucking bamboozled beyond belief to find out they actually do like him. But that’s just a little side-note.

Thinks he’s stupid.

This one is just a bit... Sad. Very sad. Jake genuinely does think he’s stupid. Quite a lot, really.

GT: I shoulda asked where he fit into the picture if you were raised alone. I can be dumb as a bag of penny candy sometimes. (x)

Just... Man, he’s been called and treated as stupid so many times, he’s at the point where he believes it. If you asked him, he’d say Dirk is a genius, Roxy is always smart and sassy, and Jane is brilliant. (I don’t have a source for that last one but... Come on. She lectures him about grammar. Don’t fuck with me.) But when it comes to himself? He can’t say the same. Of course he then acts that way. He sees himself as a burly adventurer who is also a gentleman and tries to live up to that. No where along those lines does he think he’s intelligent. And that’s just... a little heartbreaking, really, all things considered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Can’t believe this blog is just me going, “Wanna see how fast I can talk about Jake?”, and a shit-ton of people all nodding before I talk for six hours straight. Anyway, take-home message is: Jake’s smart. Jake’s very, very smart. He’s also a himbo, but he’s incredibly smart. Just because he has learning disabilities doesn’t mean fuck-all.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. There are drinks and refreshments in the back. Have a safe trip home. Remember to tip your waiters and waitresses. Jesus fuck can I run this gag any harder into the ground? Giving me language was a mistake. No but, really, if you read this whole damn thing, thank you! I hope this was as fun to read as it was to write.

#ooc.#headcanons.#about.#ableism tw #and i hate to do this but after the speech impediment post i must:#dont steal these headcanons.#(unless youre a jake rper then by all means thats fine!)#yes these arent exclusive to jake but this took a lot of time and effort #id appreciate it if youd all respect that #tia! <3

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nie7027 · 6 years ago

Text

Super5 headcanons pt 2

Edit: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Minegishi can only stare

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"What do you care?"

"Why are you here?"

"I was bored"

Shimazaki could be here to kill him for betraying him but Minegishi is too tired for this and there are dishes to wash.

In the time it takes him to do the dishes and calm down his plants, shimazaki falls asleep so he goes to the living to room to get a better look at the man

Shimazaki looks almost the same except maybe a bit thinner and with possible hollower eyes. The crooked nose is definitely new. A crooked nose?? Did he broke his nose at some point?? He is even wearing the same clothes as last time. His precious jacket ripped at the edges. Scorching marks and bullet holes here and there.

With a long sigh he takes out his phone, turns off the volume and opens the super3 chat(the too spicy for Seris innocent eyes). The messages start to come in rapidly

Minegishi: Shimazaki is back

Hatori: what

Hatori: what do you mean Shimazaki is back???

Shibata: how did he find us? Did he try to fight you?

Minegishi: i mean he is asleep on my couch. No, he just ate all of my cereal.

Shibata: what the fuck?

Hatori: what the fuck?

Minegishi what the fuck indeed

Shibata: did he say what he wants? Do you know why is he here?

Minegishi: He didnt talk and I dont know

Hatori: what do we do?

Minegishi:

Minegishi: i dont know.

Minesishi: i cant make any calls or else he could wake up and seri isnt logged in so can someone call him and tell him whats going so they can take the necessary precautions

Shibata: im on it

Shibata: hatori is freaking out in his room anyway. I think he is begginin to build a security system.

Minegishi: ...

Shibata: yeah yeah ill go calm him after i talk with Seri.

Minegishi stares at his phones and then at the man on his couch, he cant blame them. Shimazaki is a really dangerous person and they dont know what he is doing here. Minegishi just wanted to do the dishes, water his plants and go to sleep.

The super5 will never know but Shimazaki wasnt lying per se. He WAS bored.

After he ran away from the fight against seasoning city espers he hid here and there taking his sweet time at recovering and once he did(his nose still felt strange but he ignored it) he started to look at what to do.

He joined many criminal organizations, afterall a teletransporter was very valued in the underworld. But not matter how petty or big the crime was, he got bored. So he ended leaving all of them. he even left some in the middle of a important job, not caring whether his employers got caught or not( it was their fault for being stupid and not having a backup plan anyway)

After some months of this he realized he was bored of normal criminals. He was bored of normal persons with narrowed mindsets who conformed with just comitting stupid crimes. HE HAD BEEN PART OF A PLAN TO TAKE THE WORLD and now he was trafficking some drug?? Lame.

Most of all he missed the thrilling sensation of being surrounded with persons that could actually put a fight against him. So he searched for something alike to claw, an organization of espers.

His search turned out fruitless and he decided then he should return to where all started. Claw. It was time to pay a visit to his expartners.

It took him just a week to locate them. It would have took him just a day but he was finally having some fun and god he was gonna drag it all he could.

So here he was in a tiny empty apartment, the crazy amount of plants with a certain aura being the only indication that it belonged to Minegishi...WHERE THE HELL WAS HE? Oh well. He had been waiting for a year. He could wait a little more. In any case in his hurry to get here he forgot to eat and he could hear a fridge running.

Shimazaki, still on the sofa, wakes up the next day at the sound of a blender. He is being held in place, bounded by lots and lots of thick green vines and sturdy roots from which he easily frees himself. The moment he does so the noise at the kitchen stops and an annoyed minegishi steps out. Shimazaki can feel him tensing, preparing for an attack and that makes him smirk .

Until an alarm clock goes off that makes Minegishi mutter a curse

"If you are gonna do something do it now. I have better things to do and i have to go now"

"Better things to do?? What can possibly be better than this??"

"I have work so if you are gonna just stand there and smirk be my guest"

"Work?"

"Yeah, work. you know? That thing you do for a living and that contributes to society? Fuck it.You probably dont. Anyway i gotta go" Turning his back on shimazaki is probably the worst idea but he couldnt sleep at all, he is late and he hasnt had breakfast so if shimazaki wants to kill him he will gladly accept it.

He miraculously manages to exit his apartment and make it to his work. He only hopes theres an apartment to come back later.

Shimazaki can only stare increduously to where minegishis used to stand. 'Work'? 'Contribute to society'? THE FUCK WAS HE BABBLING ABOUT this was completely unexpected and he doesnt know what to do until he notices theres a smell coming from the kitchen where Minegishi left his untouched breakfast. Well he supposes he can muse how to proceed over breakfast.

Hatori isnt allowed to use his phone at work but he is too anxious to care and he has powers to do it without anybody noticing

Spicy3 chat

Hatori: how did it went?

Minegishi: ...well...i guess?? I am alive and my flat was still in one piece last time i saw it

Hatori: he didnt try anything?

Minegishi: he woke up when it was time for me to go...so i just kinda left

Shibata: you just left? He didnt try to stop you???

Minegishi: no

Minegishi:but i think...

Hatori: WHAT

Shibata:what

Minegishi: i think he is...tired.

Minegishi: I bound him while he was sleeping and he never woke up nlr stirred. He didnt notice.

Hatori: weird

Minegishi: i know. Worst of all i couldnt eat and i have 2 hours more left until my break.

Shibata: i can pass on my way to gym and sneak you something

Minegishi: thanks

Hatori: if you want you can hang in our apartment for the time being. We still need to know what he wants

Shibata: yeah, and if he shows up we can fight him together💪

Minegishi: if Seri asks, everything is under control

It takes a week for Shimazaki to finally show up. Meanwhile Minegishi has to use Hatoris and Shibatas washing machine to wash his work uniform daily(it can get very dirty when you work in a flower shop) because his other sets of uniform are back at his place trapped with Shimazaki. So is his money and he has to lend some from Hatoris and shibatas and ask his boss for an advencement in his payment. He hates Shimazaki more now.

They cant do anything but stare blankly when he suddenly shows up in the middle of the living room where they were eating pizza holding an empty box of cereal and says "Theres no more food back there and i want more of these but i cant see how they are called" while pointing at the box.

Sometimes its very easy to forget he is actually blind. Hatori weakly says the name of the branch of cereal he is holding and Shimazaki dissapears again before anybody can say anything.

"Did everybody saw what i just saw right??what the fuck? What the fuck?" shibata exclaims

"...my food"minegishi laments

Its not until an hour of wondering what was that and wracking their brain for an asnwer after that shimazaki returns, a brand new box of the cereal in his hands. He picks up a slice of the forgotten pizza and sits besides Shitaba.

"You didnt pay for that did you?" asks Shitaba

Shimazaki just turns around and stares st him with his hauntingly empty eyes "you too?"

"PAY? WORK? CONTRIBUTE TO SOCIETY? THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU"

"Weve changed"

"Yeah we have jobs and stuff, we help peopl"

"YOU HAVE SUPERPOWERS! WHY ARE YOU EVEN WORKING?"

"TO NOT PARASITE ON OTHERS HARD WORK LIKE SOME PEOPLE IN HERE" finally explodes Minegishi

The man frowns and rapidly done with the conversation teleports away.

Minegishi finally returns to his place, his web of plants telling him Shimazaki isnt there anymore. Re stashing his fridge and cabinet is a pain in the ass.

Shimazakis plan had been to either find his expartners and form something alike to Claw with them or just antagonize them until he gets the fight he so much craves. None of that has happened because all of them had turned to a bunch of weakling pussies and he cant even find Serizawa.

He could still try to fight them but he bitterly realizes he wont get any satisfaction of beating them if they keep acting like that, restraining themselves and trying to be civil as if they werent the same persons that destroyed this very city a year ago. It would be like punching flowers!

The point was to get rid of his boredness and now he is just angry!

He needs them to drop the act.

Thats when a plan starts to form in his head and he smirks. He is going to show them what they are missing on.

Thats how he finds himself back in minegishis apartment.

"Im just saying you could probably grow tons of weed, good quality of course. And i take care of the transport i know a bunch of people-"

"Weed? Are you serious? Is this why you came back? To start a drug trafficking bussines?"

"Im just saying with my teletransporting abilities and yourplant thing we could save lots of money in transport and become richer than-"

"No"

"AREN YOU TIRED OF THIS? OF SHITTY CUSTOMERS GETTING YOU IN TROUBLE JUST BECAUSE THEY DONT KNOW RAINBOW ROSES DONT NATURALLY EXIST?"

"WHERE YOU SPYING ME AT WORK?"

"MAYBE SO"

"DONT DO IT AND STOP EATING ALL MY FOOD"

He then tries with shibata, approaching him during one of his morning running routines. Teletransporting every 2 meters at his side while he keeps running clearly ignoring him

"With your force, not that i need it, we could terrorize all the bussines of a whole prefecture and force them to pay for protection. We win, they win"

"Not interested"

"Why not?! It would be so easy"

"I dont want to"

"Could you stop running? This is important"

"No thanks"

"You arent even listening!"

"Good"

He finally tries with Hatori thinking he would be the easiest of them

"You hack the system and we force all those politicians to pay us to not release all their dirty secrets"

"I am busy"

"No you are not. You are playing mario kart. I can hear Yoshi"

"Ive changed"

"Have you? Really???" at this point Shimazaki raises an eyebrow, he is so done and he wont keeo with this bullshit "because everywhere i have been, and i have been everywhere, the interpol, cia, you name it HAS BEEN AFTER ME whereas you three can waltz into a store like nobodys bussiness. WE COMMITED THE SAME CRIME. WE DESTROYED THIS CITY so how come im the only one being persecuted? Huh? You think I DONT KNOW WHAT YOU DID"

Hatori pauses the game and glares at him. Good, he is finally getting a reaction.

" i did what had to be done and i wont let YOU of all people tell me-"

"Me? Of all people? You believe yourself so grand and high when you are nothing but THE SAME AS ME" immediately shimazaki feels hatoris aura flare. what must have been his console shifting and changing into something new. Whatever it is, he is sure he can block it.

"Really? You are gonna fight me? I want to see you-" a horrible sound like nothing he had ever heard before pierces his ears making him howl in pain and he teleports away.

After that accident shimazaki never mentions Hatoris dirty secret again but that doesnt stop him from keep trying to get them to commit felonies again.

He thinks he once "saw" Serizawa on the street but his aura was quickly eaten by the aura of the person by his side. He didnt stayed to find out and quickly teleported away.

And this goes like this for 3 months, his proposals becoming more and more desesperate until one day he just... gives up.

Shimazaki should have left or killed them months ago but for some reason he prefers to stay here. He wont admit it but hes having more fun living on their couches annoying them than what he would have had they accepted his proposals.

He takes special delight in annoying them when they had hard days. (Minegishi comes home covered in something stinky and almost strangles shimazaki with his own hands after he comments this wouldnt have happened if he had accepted to traffick weed in a yacht with him)

...besides he has noticed that now in both apartments there is always a box of his favourite cereal (hatori sweared it was the cereal what placated Shimazaki given how docile he was whenever he was seen eating it, shibata and minegishi just liked it)

The super3 cant believe it themselves but they have now gotten used to the constant presence of Shimazaki in their lives (which isnt surprising given they spent at least 3 years together).

Well constant is a way to put it because the man still has the habit of dissapearing 3-5 days every once in a while and reappearing like nothing happened

But they know this cant keep going like this and thats how minegishi finds himself texting the super3 chat one day he comes to an empty apartment

Minegishi: is shimazaki there?

Hatori: yeah, hes playing smash with shitaba

Minegishi: playing smash??

Hatori: its seems he learned the patron of my movements by observing me and now hes kicking Shitabas ass as princess peach

Minegishi: ?

Hatori: we told him he was playing bowser

Minegishi: whatever, tell him to bring his ass back. I need to go grocery shopping and i need his help

"Why would i help you grocery shopping?" says shimazaki suddenly to his right

At the same his phone sounds 2 times

Shibata: hatori said something to him and he just teleported

Shibata: is safe to assume he is with you?

Minegishi: yea, im taking charge from here

"Im teaching you to do grocery shopping"

"I dont need you to teach me shit"

" yes, you do if you want to keep eating that cereal you like and that you finished this morning"

Shimazaki raises his eyebrow, teleports and after 5 min returns with 5 boxes of the damn cereal in his arms

"There. Its done"

"DID YOU JUST ROBBED THEM? YOU CANT KEEP DOING THIS"

"WHY NOT? ITS EASIER"

"THATS NOT THE POINT"Minegishi stops, breathes amd tries again "Shimazaki you cant keep doing this and i dont mean just the whole robbing, i mean i dotn know what you do when you dissapear for days but when you are here you just eat our food, wait for us to come home from work and then annoy us?"

"So? I can do whatever i want"

"Do you realize how pathethic it sounds?Is this really all you want to do? Do you even know what you want to do?"

Shimazaki doesnt wanna hear anymore of that and teleports

He ends teleporting to a random alley where he passes the night

The next days his mood isnt any better and he spends them sleeping, terrorizing random deliquents he finds in his way and kicking bags of trash until one day of the "bags" lets out a yelp.

Its shibata who finds him some days later during one of his running routines when he follows the sound of a hurt dog

Expecting to see a bunch of nasty kids terrorizing a poor animal he steps up to confront them only to find his missing "friend" glaring at poor dog and screaming "STOP COMPLAINING ITS YOUR FAULT FOR NOT MOVING I DIDNT EVEN KICK YOU THAT HARD"

He texts a quickl "Found him" to the group chat and marches up to him

"You shouldnt be kicking random things in the first place"

"Get lost"

" are you sure you didnt kick him hard? He is limping and we both know your kicks arent exactly soft"

"If i had wanted, a limp would be the least of its problems" still he makes a face as if he isnt sure

With a sigh Shibata carefully picks up the dog and motions to shimazaki "theres a vet nearby. You kicked him so you own him that at least. Dont worry ill pay" he doesnt wait for Shimazakis response and walks, relief overflowing him once he hears footsteps behind him

The consult is quick and the vet gleefully hands shimazaki "his" dog while she explains to shibata the treatment they should follow the next three months

Shimazaki...had never in his life pet a dog, much less carried one. His fur feels dirty and is tangled everywhere but the vet said it just needs a bath. It is warm and he can feel and hear his steady breaths. His mental eye allows him to perceive the flowing of his blood, the currents in his brain, the beating of his heart...all what makes a living being held in his arms. Things he has always perceived but never payed attention. The fact that the dog starts to lick his hands doesnt go unnoticed and he feels strangely calm. His grip tightening.

They are about to exit the clinic, shibata saying his last thanks when a woman and a girl enter. That very moment the dog starts to squirm in his embrace. And he doesnt know what to do

"Hey are you alright? I can hold it if you want" asks shibata noticing his turmoil

" yeah, its just the stupid dog WHO HAS FORGOTTEN HE CANT WALK"

The girls who shibata notices has red puffy narrows her eyes and yells "DONT CALL HIM STUPID YOU ARE THE STUPID" before turning to look at shimazaki, whatever she was going to say next is forgotten as she stares with wide eyes.

Both the moms and shimazakis replies are drowned by the girl scream of "UESAMA! MOM ITS HIM ITS MY DOG"

For some reason shimazaki feels his blood run cold and lifts up the dog even more when the girl comes clashing at his legs desesperately trying to grab her dog

Shibata who noticed shimazakis earlier expression cant believe what hes seeing (please god, please tell me he isnt gonna fight a girl over a dog) when the vet decides to come out to see what is happening

"Im sorry, my little girl believes those boys over there have Uesama"

"ITS HIM"

"Uesama?..." the vet stares some seconds in confusion before her eyes grow wider "Oh how didnt i notice it before! Im sorry sirs but it seems you have found this little girls dogs" the vets looks expectantly at shimazaki

Shimazaki who has been holding a very squirming dog and listening to the screams of a girls is starting to get very annoyed. The tempation to teleport away with the dog too big to ignore. Hes about to do it when he hears the dog crying again.

With a huff he hands it to the very thankful mother and exits the clinic as quickly as he can.

Shibata follows suit "I saw your face before they arrived. I can tell what you did"

"Shut up"

The walk home is strangely quiet but at least he is back.

The joke on the spicy chat is that the super 3 are dumb and believe they are protecting oh so pure Seri when in reality they just share dumb penis jokes while Seri is actually riding Reigens dick.

And yes as his last crime Hatori threatened with realeasing all the state secrets of all the goverments and provoking a worldwide crisis if they didnt allow them to try to live normal lives

I just noticed this is more of a fanfic than a list of headcanons now but meh. What i wanted to actually be part 2 is gonna be part 3? 4? I didnt even get to write the prank the super5 were gonna pull on shimazaki but now you have something to look up next time.

Im not that happy with how the second half turned out but maybe im just tired.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #minegishi toshiki #hatori nazomu #shibata hiroshi #shimazaki ryou #should i tag animal violence?#manga spoilers #mp100 spoilers #super5 headcanons #nie's writing

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