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master-sass-blast · 3 years ago

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This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

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

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, ��Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #kitty pryde x illyana rasputin #aka my 'fuck you' to the russo bros #get ready for some big canon divergence #i am literally just doing whatever the fuck i want #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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ponkekingdom · 3 years ago

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Yoo I just wanted to say I absolutely adore your style!!!! Especially your way of drawing Dave, like damn you've captured the rat man to a t 👀👀

I was just wondering if you got any tips or specifics on how you draw humans? Sorry if that's a weird question fhgh <:) ♥️

Aww man thank you!!!💕

It was quite an up-hill battle drawing dave. His face is so unique, it was hard to capture that pure insanity that oozed from his character design lawl

Gosh its been so long since I've last looked back at how I would draw people so I would say that my process or any tips i have atm in drawing humans is to play around with perspective and poses even if it looks janky. As well as limiting the amount of strokes it takes to draw limbs, head shape, torso etc. Usually when im drawing full bodies, I would say mapping out the body's fluid pose is the best start. I also like to make my brush strokes quick so that I can kinda finally put my thoughts down into a single drawing. I don't really follow the whole face shape measurement thingy since I focus too much on that aspect and not enough with facial expressions. ALSO referencing poses is suuuper underrated! (Usually keep a whole pinterest board full of 'em)

(Sorry for this long post + hope this helps out 🥲)

#kinda semi long post #how do i do art again???

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hwangsbbg · 4 years ago

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Honeymoon - Hyunjin

Just a really fluffy smut in which female reader and Hyunjin spend their first night together as a married couple

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

"Wait, I have to pick you up and carry you inside, tradition" Hyunjin grinned, swooping me up with ease after unlocking the hotel room with the key card we received from the receptionist and entering the hotel.

The honeymoon suite. It was insanely beautiful. The theme was red and white and there was anything we could possibly need. A small living room area, a fridge, a tv, a jacuzzi and of course, the huge king sized bed which was the first thing you could see when you walked in.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a gift basket with a "congratulations" card sticking out of it but I was more focused on the fake rose petals that were spread all over the room.

I grinned when Hyunjin kicked the door closed after he walked in and set me down on the bed.

"You know, Mrs Hwang, we have the guys to thank for this" Hyunjin grinned, kicking off his dress shoes.

It's true. The guys were responsible for all of this. They had planned the surprise honeymoon and payed for everything from the plane tickets to the hotel room. We were staying here for a week.

"Don't worry Mr Hwang, I won't forget to thank them" I absolutely loved being called 'Mrs Hwang' and more so when it was coming from Hyunjin. I loved sharing his last name and I loved being his wife.

"I still can't believe you travelled in your wedding dress" Hyunjin chuckled, glancing at the dress I had been wearing since the ceremony.

"The plane ride was only 4 hours and we decided not to go to the after party so it wasn't that bad" I admitted, resting my hands back on the bed and using them to balance my body weight.

Hyunjin was also still wearing his black tuxedo. He looked like a prince. He always looks like a prince but now more than ever with his black hair styled back and all.

"I just can't wait to take this thing off though" I told him. I wasn't tired from the trip, quite the opposite actually. I was very excited but I wanted to finally get out of this huge fancy dress.

"I could take it off for you" Hyunjin smirked, walking closer to the bed until he was standing right in front of me, looking down at me.

"I wouldn't stop you" I replied, standing up, still looking up at him because of the height difference between the two of us.

Hyunjin and I were a very 'innocent couple', two virgins completely head over heels for each other. It would make a great book. Of course we've kissed and made out before but we would never let it go beyond that, wanting our first times together to be special. And it was indeed going to be special.

We even made a deal to not touch ourselves for a month prior to the wedding and it was quite simple for me but Hyunjin could not stop complaining.

"You know I want this to be special but with you looking like this I don't know if I'm going to be able to control myself" Hyunjin muttered, taking my hands into his own.

"Hey, it's okay, this is a first for both of us and all that matters right now is that we're both here, together, and I love you" I reassured him.

"And I love you" He grinned as I grabbed onto his tie, pulling him into a kiss. The kiss was slow, sweet, we took our time knowing we had all night to do whatever we wanted to and knowing what this was leading up to.

Hyunjin pulled away, undoing his tie and throwing it on the floor before removing his suit jacket revealing his button up, nicely tucked into his pants which fit him tightly and revealed the outline of his muscles.

He smiled, reattaching our lips, this time his tongue demanding access which I quickly granted, desperate to feel his tongue explore my mouth.

The entire situation was insanely arousing and I wanted nothing more but for Hyunjin to take this dress off of me but I enjoyed the build up and how special he was making everything.

His arms snaked around my waist, pulling me closer and making the gap between our bodies completely disappear with my chest pushed up against his.

His hands then went to my ass, palming it gently before giving it a tight squeeze, earning a swallowed moan from my part.

"Fuck" he pulled away, staring at me as I stared at the very prominent bulge forming inside of his suit pants.

He reached behind me, his hand going to the zipper of my dress and pulling it completely down before I intervened, slipping the dress off by stepping out of it.

"Wha- fuck" Hyunjin groaned, seeing the outfit I had prepared for him, for this night.

I was dressed in white lace lingerie I had bought for this occasion, the bra perfectly showing off my breasts and beautifully contrasting with my skin.

"Just for you" I bit on my lower lip in anticipation as he grinned at me.

"How did I get this lucky" His eyes scanned my body, as if it were an art piece in a museum only he could attend.

"I think I'm the lucky one" I giggled, untucking his button up shirt and peppering his neck with small open mouthed kisses before beginning to unbutton, one by one, his shirt.

He detached from the kiss, removing his shirt and throwing it on the pile of clothes that was slowly forming on the hotel floor.

Hyunjin was truly a sight to see. His muscles, his abs, his pecs, it seemed as though everything was sculpted perfectly and covered by a smooth layer of skin.

"Come here" Hyunjin signaled for me to jump and so I did, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck as his hands rested on my bare thighs, holding me up.

The kiss this time was more heated, rushed and I fought back my urges to moan at the feeling of his bulge pressed up directly against my heat before he layed me down on the bed, his body slightly hovering above mine, making sure to not break the kiss.

He positioned himself so that his one knee was between my legs that were slightly bent up and his other was on the other side of one of my legs.

Hyunjin slowly began leaving a trail of kisses from my lips to my jaw all the way to my neck, collarbone and breasts.

"Beautiful" He marveled, kissing the exposed top of my breasts before moving back up to my neck.

He layed down before propping himself up with one arms, the other going to my breast that he began rubbing on as he sucked on the sensitive skin on my neck.

My breath hitched as he rolled his hips onto my heat, his mouth finding a spot on my neck causing tingles to run through my entire body.

"Let me take these off baby" He stood up, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers, painfully slow as if he were putting on a show for my eyes only.

He finally stepped out his his pants, his underwear being the only article of clothing remaining on his body, his erection looking more prominent than before.

I lifted my body only slightly enough to unclasp my bra and throw it to the other side of the room, Hyunjin's eyes quickly attaching themselves to the bare skin.

With no words said, he dived straight for my breasts, one hand massaging one breast, fondling with the nipple, squeezing it, doing whatever he wanted while his lips focused on the other breast, taking my nipple into his mouth after sucking dark purple marks on the exposed skin.

He did the same to the other breast, taking his time despite both of us being impatient before going back up to my lips, this time messy with our tongues dancing, his lips already red and puffy.

I moved my hands down from his shoulder, to his back, feeling the soft skin before moving on to his arms. I absolutely loved his arms, the muscles.

My hands then trailed down his upper body, my fingers slightly gliding over his nipples before enjoying his abs.

Then I palmed him, taking him by surprise as he let out a small gasp followed by a moan.

I flipped us over, now sitting on his thigh as I began sucking beautiful hickies all over his milky skin. I adored the feeling of his thigh, the muscle strong and pressing against my heat.

I moaned as I began rolling my hips on his thigh, my hand going back to his hard on as I began to gently rub on it, continuing to mark his skin.

I could feel my underwear sticking to my heat, dripping with arousal and I knew it was time to go further.

I pulled away, rolling over on my back and Hyunjin seemed to get the message as he positioned himself so that his knees were on either side of my legs, scanning my body in the process.

He maintained eye contact as his fingers hooked on the waistband of my underwear before he pulled them off, his eyes immediately going to my core.

"You have it worse than I do" he teased, referring to the arousal as he tossed the underwear behind his back.

He then stood up, removing his own boxers, his erection propping up against his stomach, standing tall and proud, his tip already oozing precum.

"Are you sure about that" I giggled as he chuckled in response, pulling me closer to the edge of the bed with my thighs.

He leaned down as he began kissing on my shoulder, his finger instantly going to my slit and without warning, pushing inside of me.

"F-fuck Hyunjin" I moaned as he began slowly thrusting his finger before adding another one.

"Shit-" I cursed at the slight stretch, my arousal serving as a lubricant as his fingers moved in and out and he made scissoring gestures to stretch out the tight hole.

"Fuck, Hyunjin, I really want you" I moaned as he sped up the rhythm of his fingers before completely pulling away.

He spread my legs and positioned himself between them, placing his length right at my entrance.

I closed me eyes as he began rubbing it against my entrance, teasing me but pleasuring both of us as he makes the tip of his length rub against my clit.

"Fuck- please Hyunjin" I looked up at him. He looked focused, his hair sticking to his forehead and jaw slightly parted.

"F-fuck" Hyunjin groaned, slowly pushing the tip of his erection inside of me as I let out a squeal at the stretch, this being completely different from two fingers.

"You okay babe?" He looked down at me, worried, as I nodded, my eyes shut in slight pain mixed in with a bit of pleasure.

"Fuck it's so tight" He moaned, leaning down to kiss me as he continued sliding the rest of the length in, his kiss supposed to distract me but not working as as I could only focus on was the stinging which quickly subsided.

"You can move now" I gave him the green flag before he slowly pulled out, thrusting back in at the same speed, testing the water.

I cursed at the feeling, the pain now replaced with absolute pleasure. Hyunjin took my reaction as a sign to continue as he began thrusting, in and out, at a steadier rhythm.

"F-faster please" I begged as he began picking up the pace, his thrusts increasing in speed only further intensifying the pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck Hyunjin it feels so good" I could feel a knot forming in my lower stomach as tears formed in my eyes.

"Shit y-you're so f-fucking hot, all mine" Hyunjin grunted as he grabbed onto my thigh, hoisting it up and resting it on his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper than previously.

"FUCK" I yelled, overwhelmed with pleasure as he began hitting a certain spot that had my head spinning.

"Sh- I- fuck- I can't- ah" I struggled to form words as his thrusts not only gained in depth and speed but also in rigor as he began thrusting harder, practically slamming into me.

"Fuck babygirl I-" Hyunjin's breathing became audible as he was practically panting.

"I'm gonna-" Hyunjin began. I could feel my walls tightening and clenching around his length and I knew I was close as well.

"Me too" I let him know and with a few more thrusts he began releasing his load, not stopping with his thrusts as I cried out in pleasure.

His grunts resonated throughout the room as he rode his high, his last thrust causing me to come as well, all over his length.

He pulled out, his body collapsing into the bed, next to me as he pulled me close to him.

"I love you" He whispered as I layed my head on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, slowly calming down.

"I love you too"

#stray kids #stray kids smut #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #stray kids oneshot #kpop smut #kpop #smut

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imagines-to-quench-thirst · 5 years ago

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Dating a tattoo artist

Imagine: being a tattoo artist and your boyfriend being part of it

This was a fun idea I had. I hope you like it. Enjoy ❤️

Victor Creed

-he is here for it

-since his loooooonnnnggg life is well long he loves to tells stories of tattoo artists he met Japan, Brazil, New York, New Zeland...

-and you can bet that he will have the most elaborate tattoo you can think of since he said so

'You want a tattoo? From me?'

'Yes, I trust you.'

'That's the problem, Vic, you could end up with a dolphin tattoo on your arm.'

'.... Well... I still trust you?'

-after that, he was a little bug just to be on your good side which you took full advantage of

Being on top, commanding him? Sure

Handing you the remote even though it's next to you? Of course

Helping you choose an outfit even though you are indecisive and he has a short fuse? Hell yeah.

-when the day came you tattooed him a small quote that described him

"Tough times never last but tough people do"

(Robert H. Shuller)

'I love it. Thank you kitten.'

Loki Laufeyson

-Since he was in the cell for most of his life (in my universe that's the worst thing happening for him, he didn't die nor his mother) he doesn't know what a tattoo artist is he thinks that's an alternative art form he is supportive

-after you talk to him describing the definition of tattoos and the art behind it he is very much perplexed

'So mortals pay you to pierce their skin with black ink to paint...something????'

'Tattoo something on their skin and yes.'

'With pain in mind?????'

'Yes, and it looks awesome.'

-when he heard the story of your tattoo shop he decided to tag along to see the magic

-he saw how men and women tattooed others while they squirmed in their seats he chuckled at the sight of it

'Darling you could have told me.'

'What?'

'You torture people with the needle machines and coax them into paying you. Brilliant.'

'Suree~~~~'

-he stayed with you to help you with the pain giving without a medical license

'I'm a God. I'm above it.'

'No one is above the Inspection.'

Thor Odinson

-since his depression and weight gain he is very much informed of the world of MTV tattoo show "How far is tattoo far?"

-so he very much thinks that tattoos are a stamp of disgrace

-and keeping that in mind he is frazzled why are you doing a job like that

'You are a shame barer?'

'Shame-what...? Thor! I'm not. The show is a disgrace to the tattoo world.'

'Shame~~barer~~~'

'Just come with me and spend one day and see it for yourself.'

-Thor is reluctant much to his words but still, you sat him down in the waiting lobby he chats up the customers a.k.a big muscular dudes that are already tattooed from the neck down

'So... what is your shame? What horrible deed have you done to come here?'

'Excuse me!?'

'You must be here to condemn your shame by immortalizing it with a flesh sticker.'

-at this point, the muscle dude stood up ready to attack Thor but you intervene quickly

'Marc, stop!'

-the man turned around hiding his tight fist behind his back

'Y/n, already done? That's fast.'

'Marc, you know that you were released 7 months ago and you are still on parole. Come on. Stop it.'

'He insulted me and-and my tattoos. Your tattoos. You know how am about your work.'

-Thor hears that as stands up grabbing Marc's arm examining the tattoos in amazement

'My darling, I want that felsh sticker as he has.'

'.......... Sure........ Wait here. Let's go, Marc. I need to vent.'

Steve Rogers

-Steve knows what tattoos are since he has seen the stick and poke of his fellow soldiers but never a photorealistic tattoo in your portfolio

-he is very much intrigued how you made that look like a real person on someone's skin knowing very well there is no eraser

-loves to ask how do you achieve such colors that simply jump out or how you make a fabric that of a shirt or some patterns, he is armed with questions

-and since he is an art wizard himself he loves to have a painting duel with you, you paint on his skin with watercolors and he paints on the canvas

-that's one of his favorite moments

'What did you draw?'

'A dolphin kissing a penguin.'

'What?!'

'Just kidding I painted the building in Brooklyn where you lived.'

'Did I tell you how much I love you?'

Bucky Barnes

-this man thrives to see you fulfill your dream and passion

-especially when he picks you up, he parks the car exiting it and walking in seeing you talk to your employees and customers exchanging stories and laughs even though in the near distance is the buzzing sounds of the machine guns

-you see him and grab his hand giving him a peck on his lips as a cheeky grin is stuck on his face

-as you talk about your day he always asks the question

'Were there any wusses?'

-alluding to men who cried out form the stinging pain, eventually tapping out to take a break

'Yes, a big dude Marc. Ordered a neck tattoo with details. Tapped out in 15 minutes.'

'I knew it!'

-he enjoys in the hilarious stories you can make up... I mean tell

Bruce Wayne

-you already know the drill he has money he will give it to you but politely delined

-he tried to help with purest of heart but still, the answer was no

-he loved to see your shop filled with many customers as he walked incognito, sunglasses and a cap saying he wasn't a private appointment with the head tattooer

-Let's just say you were pretty much in tears of laughter as he reveled his face

'At least you tried, Bruce.'

-he loves to talk about tattoos and the process of healing if it's on top of a scar

-you are hooked on the conversation and even make him some sketches

'A huge dragon on your back with black and gold lining.'

'Okay but how about initials of my parents?'

'That sounds... Better much much better.'

-so the day of his tattooing comes you tattoo in his inner arm putting the letter T. & M. W.

'Thank you Princess.'

Clark Kent

-Clark loves to see the vast tattoos so much that he wants one but he knows that his body will "absorb" the tattoo too fast making it disappear in a few months maybe weeks

-but still, he loves to see how your gaze is sharp focused on the tattooing even when HE walks that is how much you are focused

'Alrighty, Marc you are done.'

'Thanks, Y/n, you are the best.'

-Clark also loves to hear the influx of comments of your artistry even if he's a little jealous

-he loves to see just how much you are happier to follow this insane passion

'You are an inspiration Y/n.'

'Why?'

'Because... You just are.'

Arthur Curry

-you already know that Fishman is tatted to perfection and he is here for a tattoo lover as well

-if you ever have someone asking for a Maori style tattoo Arthur will be a fair judge, that's what he says

Case#1

'Why do you want a Maori tattoo?'

'Um, sir beca-'

'It's Mr. Aquaman. Continue.'

'Oh, sorry. Mr. Aquaman, I want it because I find them cool.'

'Just cool? Do you think that the abundant culture of Maori people is cool? Go home boy.

Case #2

'You want a Ta Moko? Do you what that is?'

'Sur-sure, it's a tattoo of the Maori people.'

'Ufff... Do you know how much of a meaning Ta Moko carries? Why don't you go to the Yakuzas and get a tebori.'

'They would kill me.'

'Of course, and I'll whoop your uncultured ass with my two hands.'

-you turned to the now pale boy

'Run.'

-the man ran like the wind as the Aquaman caught him easily giving him a cultural lesson of Ta Moko

Orm Marius

-he kinda has a small soft spot for tattoos especially those with a loving meaning lover, family...

-and he likes to "inform himself" about it so he asks a ton of questions even asking what kind of tattoo would suit him

'I think a small red tattoo would suit your taste.'

'I like the tattoos who can hold audios.'

-with that sentence, he left you frazzled as you google and got the special ink kit gifting it to Orm as a present for being a nice guy and not killing anyone

-he immediately records his audio in secrecy and handing you the ink

-after you tattoo the ink you hand him your phone with the app to scan the audio

'Hey, Orm. I'm just reminding you that I love you. So much. It's Y/n if you forget... Somehow.'

-later that day you doused him with kisses

Joker

-that man oozes with tattoos *cough*damaged*cough*

-and you can bet that he wants more of them he brings into your home the whole tattoo parlor just so he can have a private session with sex mixed in

-you gladly tattoo him patching up some of his tattoos he has outgrown them

'Why did you tattoo Kick Me on your back?'

'I won a bet.'

'Are you sure you won?'

'For sake of this question I did.'

-you cover the kick me tattoo with a large red dragon with green eyes

-he stands up looking at the tattoo in the mirror

'Sweets, you just got a huge tip.'

Duncan Vizla

-for him, tattoo nowadays are dumb in his time tattoos were means of solidarity with people who are bounded by the same ink and gun

-but keeps his mouth shut about it not to offend your dream even if it's tattooing dancing hotdogs

-he loves to pass your parlor when he finishes grocery shopping just to see you in action

-he loves to arrive at the parlor if you are doing a night shift just to keep you safe and in good company

-he loves to bring you lunch and watch you eat it with such content and happiness

-it melts his heart and just wants to make you more food

-but as he is present for the good he is here for the bad

-if he is somewhere anywhere you just need to call him and he is there in a minute be it a drunken person not wanting to exit or an aggressive man trying to grope someone in the shop

-he is ready to kill them if you say so

'You okay sweetheart?'

'Um-yeah...Thank you Donut.'

'Nonsense. That's my duty.'

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archives-gyllenhaal-stories · 5 years ago

Photo

funfetti lingerie

summary: « can we PLSSSS get a jake birthday sex smut where the reader wants to please him and is wearing lingerie i will die omg thank u ».

warnings: lots of curse words, teasing, smut, sorta dominant reader??? (your guess is as good as mine)

word count: 1352

notes: I HAD TO TURN THIS INTO A ONE SHOT i’m sorry. it became so lengthy. thank you so much for resending this request! or at least, sending something super similar to what i had in my inbox! this is bomb!!! and late af, but hey, make it your birthday everyday! also, the title sounds bad if you read lingerie as lann-ge-r-hey and not “lynn-ge-ree”. look at me, doing phonetics. thank you for sending that and thank you all for reading it!

Whether it was for your anniversaries or your actual birthdays, it became a tradition for Jake and you to go to the same restaurant as the one you went to on your first date. You would ask to sit by the same table, you would order the same thing and, eventually, the waiting staff recognized the lovebugs staring at each other with sparks in their eyes. They would offer you dessert and coffees, helping you make the night last longer. And usually, you two would gladly accept, although you would generously tip everyone on your way out.

This night was different. Jake celebrated his birthday and he had spent the entire day with his mother, sister and nieces looking like a fool with a birthday hat and blowing a flute. He was exhausted, but he did not stop smiling all night long. Most importantly, he was being inappropriate. His foot was constantly playing with yours under the table and his hand was dangerously caressing up your thigh.

The more you pretended to ignore him, the more impatient he got. You had to take sips of your drink to stop you from laughing. The poor guy, if only he knew what was waiting for him… Earlier that day, you went shopping alone, taking advantage of him spending quality time with his family. You went to a cute store and found a perfume you really liked, which was a phenomenon on its own.

Jake would always pick the right scent for you. In fact, he liked to pick almost everything you needed. He knew you so well, he would always bring you the right brand of pads or tampons along with all your favorite chocolate bars. He would pick up clothes for you to try on. And, lastly, he would pick the cutest lingerie. Always the right size, the right fabric and the right style.

So, you decided to surprise him and go buy a new set of bra and panties, on your own. You lingered in the store for quite some time until you found something that caught your attention. A salesperson helped you find your cup size and wrapped the lingerie like it was a Christmas present. She was not far from the truth. When you came back home to get ready for dinner, you slid on the lingerie and wrapped your body in one of your favorite dresses, which was complemented by your long trench coat to protect you from New York’s cruel winter wind.

Jake and you agreed to meet at the restaurant, so he knew nothing from your little plan. In fact, he thought he was the one being the biggest tease and making you nearly choke on a bite of chocolate mousse cake when you felt the tip of his fingers sliding underneath your dress. “Oops, sorry.” He would giggle and wink at you.

You smiled back at him, looking like a real angel that was not hot and bothered by his touch. Eventually, the waiters gathered around your table with another slice of cake; this time to sing happy birthday. You looked at the people and smiled wider, clapping your hands until you had to readjust the strap of your new bra. It conveniently fell off your shoulder, so you moved it back up and slid it under the strap of your dress, innocently.

Jake, whose smile was slowly fading into an open, eager mouth, noticed the unfamiliar color of the piece. It was blue, somewhere between a baby blue with a powdered finish and a light blue sky on a beautiful morning in spring. Your lingerie was the exact color of Jake’s eyes. He waited to react until the waiting staff was away, but you cut him off before he could make a sound.

“Just wait until you see the full thing.”

*~*~*

Jake was placing feverish kisses along your jawline and neck, down to your collarbone as he clumsily tried to unzip the back of your dress. The ride back home from the restaurant made him suffer. Just imagining you in beautiful baby blue lingerie drove him insane, just like the thought that he had not bought you one like this first.

“Easy, easy. I don’t want you to break it.” You chuckled, tilting your head back as he kissed your neck some more.

“Need you, Y/N. I need to see you so bad.” It sounded like a beautiful mix of a plea and an order.

You pulled away from his arms and wet lips, pushing him down on the bed. You decided to unwrap his present on your own. Slowly, your hands worked the zip and you slid your arms off the sleeves. You raised your eyebrow when he tried to touch himself, so he pulled his hand away. It was easy access since he already kicked his clothes off at the second you two walked in your place. You could swear he got even harder when your dress fell to your ankles, revealing the lingerie. It was simple, no garters or stockings, but it did the trick for him.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful, honey.” He moaned. “Don’t take it off.” He instructed when he saw you were sliding your thumbs underneath the hem of the panties.

“Do you want me to keep them on while I fuck you?” You ask as you watch him move on the bed. He was laying down, offering you to straddle his midriff. And you did, after removing your high heels.

“Please, babygirl. You look so beautiful.” He gently grabbed your face with his hands and brought you into a deep kiss. Once you were holding yourself properly, he let his hands travel your body. He groped your breasts and massaged them through the fabric, but it was only when his thumb went to rub your clit that you moaned against his lips. He slid his tongue in your open mouth and let it dance with yours as he kept rubbing your sensitive bud against the lace.

The friction felt amazing, even more so when you started to grind against his hard on. Just by the way he smirked against your lips, and even after you pulled away, you knew that he could feel how wet you were. The fabric darkened, just like your cheeks when he popped the question.

“Can you ride my cock tonight? That’d be the best birthday gift ever.” He brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“Better than the collection of Care bear movies I got you last year?” You rocked your hips harder against his cock.

“Shit, yes, even better than that.”

You moved your hand beneath you and reached for his shaft. You held it against your entrance when Jake moved your panties to the side. He was so big inside of you, but you managed to lower yourself all the way down, letting out a long moan of pleasure.

“So fucking pretty, you’re taking me so well.” Jake was basically whimpering when you bopped up and down on him. He watched you take him all the way in only to move up so he was almost out of you. He set one hand on your hip and brought the other one to your core, rubbing your clit again to bring you as close as he was.

“Happy… Fucking… Birthday… Babe!” You panted, when he rubbed small circles against you. You felt his cock twitching inside of you, and just like that, the two of you were coming at the same time in a noisy mess of moans and praises and curse words.

“Keep my come inside of you, baby. We don’t wanna ruin these yet.” He chuckled and helped you lower yourself down against him, without pulling him out. You both knew that if he moved out, you’d have his come oozing down your folds. “T’was the best birthday present ever.”

You pecked his lips and ran your fingertips over his chest. “I figured we needed a new color to fill in the rainbow!”

“Your lingerie drawer be looking like a funfetti cake, and I’m loving it.”

#jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal x reader #one shot: funfetti lingerie #completed requests #requests: jake gyllenhaal

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brynwrites · 7 years ago

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Writing Engaging Antagonists

@devils-songbirb asked:

HI! I really love your advice!! I was wondering how I could write a good villain? I've noticed that in most of the stories I write the antagonist always seems to have the same motives and I don't know how to alter it enough so that it's different and interesting.

Before we get started, I want to clarify two things:

- Antagonists can be of any moral alignment. They can be also be non-human things, such as monsters, nature, inner demons, etc. The antagonist is simply the primary thing your protagonist fights against.

- For the course of this article I will be talking about villainous antagonists who are human or human-like. You could use most of these tips for villainous protagonists as well.

There are two broad categories of villains: sympathetic and unsympathetic. I’ll talk a little about both, but I primarily write and prefer to see the former, so that will be the focus.

1. The Unsympathetic Villain.

Unsympathetic villains are evil for the sake of evil.

While these villains can be horrifying when done well, they tend to be the least intimidating type of antagonist. The most common mistake is to try to make an unsympathetic villain feel as heinously villainous as possible.

A villain who oozes darkness and villainy and nothing else will come across like a machine with a program that just reads: Be Evil. The genuine threat of these characters is often lost, because there’s no real life equivalent. In order to pull a villain like this off, the story must either perfectly suspend our disbelief or find a way to connect the villain to an antagonistic force the reader experiences in their own lives.

Often, the fictional antagonists you’ve sincerely wanted to murder are self-serving, hateful people you’ve met similar, real life versions of before, doing the things those real life versions continually get away with.

Since I don’t write unsympathetic villains often, I won’t write a more detailed guide on them, but I encourage you to think deeper into why some unsympathetic villains work while others don’t. Consider your favorite unsympathetic villains. How does the story present this villain? When have they drawn up intense emotions in you? Where did these emotions come from, and why?

2. The Sympathetic Villain.

The sympathetic villain is intimidating not because they’re evil, but because they’re both evil and human.

They represent what every one of us could easily become under the right circumstances.

They prove that your hero is not good simply because they fell into that alignment by chance, but rather because they chose it.

They show that a little good and evil exist inside every one of us, and it’s what we decide to act on and what we choose to compromise for which determines who we become.

Generally, they’re more interesting and fleshed out than un-sympathetic villains.

How do we write an interesting, sympathetic villain?

Note that you still need all these aspects for any sympathetic character you write, but the explanations are veered specifically towards villains.

Character traits.

Just like your heroes, your villains need an even dose of strengths and weakness, which should be no more villainous than your hero’s traits. Sympathetic villains aren’t people born with “evil” traits — they’re people who use their naturally neutral traits to accomplish terrible things.

It’s easy to look at the actions a villain must take and immediately ascribe traits like cruel, ambitious, vengeful, cowardly, angry, or crafty, to create a stereotypical slytherin villain. But villains can be soft, and humble, and forgiving, and brave, and quiet, and creative too.

Just as too much of any strength can become a weakness, all “good” traits can be used for an evil purpose if someone believes fiercely enough in what they’re doing.

Villains can also deny their natural, stereotypically positive character traits in order to achieve their long term goals. There’s nothing so heart-wrenching as a villain who know what they’re doing is wrong and is visibly hurt by it, who only keeps themselves in one piece because they’ve put all their faith in the idea that their end goal will be worth their current pain.

As a side note, stay away from traits related to “insane” villains whenever you want a fleshed out and sympathetic antagonist. While they have their place, they’re vastly overused, largely unsympathetic, and are generally an excuse to not bother writing a consistent character.

Motivations, stepping stones, and goals.

Since sympathetic villains aren’t evil for the sake of evil, they must have specific actions or goals which are villainous and something powerful driving their villainy.

Motivations.

Finding the right motivation for your villain can be tricky. Abuse and vengeance are rather popular motivations for antagonists and protagonists alike, and while they can still be done well, they are far from the only motivations a villain can have. Here’s an incomplete list of some, perhaps more interesting, motivations...

Love, for someone who will benefit from their end goal.

Fear, of someone, something, of some concept.

Betterment, for the world as a whole.

Responsibility, for someone, place, society, action or tradition.

Devotion, to a higher power, controlling force, or concept.

Keep in mind that these motivations can (and should) be combined to create something heavier and harder for the villain to ignore!

Stepping stones and goals.

For this section, we will refer to goals as the final, end result the villain wants to achieve, and stepping stones as the intermediate things the villain must accomplish in order to achieve that final goal.

Both of these may require evil actions, but it’s not necessary that they both be villainous in nature.

Evil stepping stones can lead to good goals. These villains are often the most sympathetic, because their end goal is the same as the heroes — the villain is simply willing to go farther and commit more heinous acts in order to achieve this goal.

Any stepping stones can lead to (misunderstood) evil goals. This situation is often created by a villain whose past pain or distorted view of life makes them believe strongly that their evil end goal is a good and worthy outcome. These villains often motivated by the same desires as the hero, but they believe those desires will be reached by this evil end goal.

Basic human actions.

Sympathetic villains are above all, human, (or at least, aliens and mythical species which reflect the basics of humanity.) They may have goals which are villainous, or they may be willing to do villainous things to reach their goals, but they have decent, even desirable qualities too. These can come across in the most insignificant places, or in small hints at humaness.

Some random examples:

They get tired, sometimes downright exhausted. They yawn. They wear bright colored slippers.They take naps in weird places. They drink too much coffee. They work themselves past their limit.

They get excited over perfectly human hobbies and likes. Maybe it’s a new ice cream favor, the premiere of their favorite soap opera, a sport, a book series, a cute pet. They have some normal and relatable desires on top of their primary, potentially villainous, goals.

They have lives they care about. This could be specific people, like their family, but it can also encompass more than that. Maybe they get along really well with old people or children. Maybe they go out of their way to rescue wounded animals. Maybe they have a vast group of people they want to protect or support. What it is, they have connections into the world and want to do right by them.

They have academic leanings. They have a deep love for something valuable to humanity: for historical sites and monuments, or pure-hearted scientific research, or libraries, or religious freedoms, or medicine, or art, or astronomy, etc.

They have quirks. They ascribe to their own style. They use funny words or phrases. They have nervous habits. They reference That One Show way too much. They sign their name with extreme care. They pour glitter on everything they own. They carry little mind teasers around, or accidentally leave their crossword puzzles lying everywhere.

They don’t always know what they’re doing. They get confused. They stumble to find solutions. They don’t always have the right thing to say or the answer to every problem. (They still get the slip on the hero, but they work for it, just like the hero does.)

They experience the full range of emotions. They’re deeply sad, and they cry when their heartbreaks. They laugh with affection and joy. They’re angry in a rush of pain and aggression. They tremble and scream when they’re terrified. They exist through a huge spectrum of emotions: joy, love, grief, fury, fear, melancholy, and more.

Character development.

The best sympathetic villains aren’t static characters. They change, they learn, they develop. If your villain is heading for a redemption arc, that development may be positive growth, or if they’re heading for destruction, it’ll likely be a negative down slide.

As always, the key to character development is to present your character with hard choices and steep consequences. Allowing your villain to struggle with these choices — no matter if they choose to grow, stay the same, or become less moral — makes them more fleshed out and sympathetic.

Tl;dr

Sympathetic villains are, first and foremost, fleshed out characters. They are not inherently better or worse people than the heroes, but they are driven to villainous actions because of complex and often genuinely moral motivations.

For fun, you might want to try this exercise: Think about your heroes. How could you turn them into the villain of the story? What motivations would they need to have? What goals would they take on? How would their fundamental humanity remain the same throughout the process, and what influence would it have on their actions? What choices could you present them with to either set them on a redemption arc or drive them to be increasingly more villainous?

#writeblr #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #writing villains #writing antagonists #sympathetic villains #scheduled post #hiatus queue #writing tag: characters #character tag: characterization

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harrysmyguccihoelove-blog · 7 years ago

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Erotic

Another smutty Harry imagine for y’all. Enjoy :)

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His green eyes pierce into mine, pleading me to do something. I settle my knees on either side of his broad frame, taking my bottom lip in between my teeth, as I admire the exposed skin of his chest. I start easy, gently trailing feather like kisses down his jaw, and onto the left side of his neck. An almost inaudible moan rolls off his tongue as I get to his special spot, making me smirk against his skin. I love being the only one on planet earth that knows him inside out, knowing exactly what to do to get satisfactory moans from those plump lips, and what to do to get his toes curling, screaming my name, and nothing is going to change that.

“YN, do something please.” Harry moans impatiently, bucking his hips up towards me so his hardened cock trapped behind his tight boxers, brushes up against my damp center, making me moan slightly at the contact. I quickly bite my lip, and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stand my ground. I press my hands down on his hips, steadying them. “Not yet, be patient. Patience is a virtue Harry.” I say continuing to kiss his neck.

I start nipping at his skin, over and over again. I nip hard enough that blood rises to the surface. Just what I wanted. To make my mark on him. After making plenty hickeys, I start trailing my lips down his chest, toying with the cross necklace dangling on his tanned skin. I trail my hands down his chest, barely touching his skin, making goosebumps appear. I reach the third button of his black shirt (but the first one that’s closed because he’s a nutball who doesn’t button his shirts up all the way) with ‘Styles’ printed conveniently on the left side of his chest.

I open the first button slowly, taking my time with each button, pressing a loving kiss to his skin where the button was once closed. I slide his shirt over his shoulders and he doesn’t hesitate yanking it off and throwing it to the other side of the room. He grabs my hips and kisses me forcefully, I quickly push him away, and settle myself back on his growing bulge. “No touching, don’t make me tie you up.” I warn him “I know I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help it. You’re so hot when you’re dominant.” I roll my eyes playfully at him.

I pepper kisses across his skin once again, not leaving an inch of his skin untouched. My lips make their way over to his left peck. My tongue presses against his tan skin, and goes across the line where his skin stops and his nipple starts. I trail my tongue across the tender skin, licking up the side of the hardened nub, making Harry moan again. I take his entire nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the nub, making Harry’s moans increase. I take his nipple out of my mouth and my tongue makes its way just above his belly button. I lick his skin across his butterfly tattoo, and in between his pecs with his chest hair tickling my tongue. I lick up his neck and finally connect our lips.

In the midst of the heated kiss, I undress both Harry and I so we’re bare, nothing holding us back. I pull away from the kiss breathless, and trail my hands down to his thighs, gently tracing the tiger tattoo etched into his skin. “No sweetheart.” Harry says desperately trying to stop himself from making any kind of contact with me. I look up at him and he’s shaking his head. “Not that tonight, I just need to fuck you already.” He whines, getting impatient again. I hum in delight and lower myself so my center is hovering in between his fern tattoos. “Whatever you want.” I say, starting to grind myself across the side of his cock. He groans and throws his head back. I bite my lip, loving the feeling of the heated, veiny skin of his cock rubbing against my clit.

I look back at Harry and see him smirking at me. “You gonna cum without me inside you? Show daddy how much his baby girl loves his cock.” I moan out loudly at his words, feeling the pressure in my stomach grow. I let out small little moans as I feel myself get closer and closer to my orgasm. But before I could cum, I bring myself higher, so the tip of his cock is gently touching the outline of my entrance. I lower myself so just the head slides inside me, slick with precum and my own juices. Harry bucks his hips up to me again, and I slam his hips down onto the bed again.

“Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?” I ask “hard.” He smirks. “Fair enough.” I say getting off him and rummaging through the closet. I finally find a pair of handcuffs Harry always uses on me. I bind his wrists tightly to the headboard. “Much better.” I say straddling him again. I slide down on his aching cock again, letting more of him inside me than before. He lets out a puff of air, making his chest deflate slightly. “Can you go lower please? It’s starting to hurt.” Harry says squeezing his eyes shut.

I bite my lip in thought for a second. “Hmm. Now that you say that…” I say getting off of him and walking to the doorway. “Wait! What are you doing, where are you going?!” He asks “I need some water, I’m thirsty, and it’s hot in here. Do you want anything?” I ask “You. Now please get your pretty little ass back here and ride me till I can’t think properly.” I think for a second. “Nah. Babe, I’m really thirsty.” I say walking out of the room and downstairs into the kitchen.

“YN! Babe! Please come back! I’ll be good I promise! Please! God please just come back YN, it really hurts! Babeeeeeeee!” I ignore his whining and drink a glass of water. After countless times of being tied up and punished, and teased mercilessly, having him pound into me with a reckless intensity, and then pulling out, telling me I can’t cum yet, then doing that three more times. I’m paying him back for everything he’s ever done, and I’m enjoying every minute of it.

I finish my water and go back up the stairs and into Harry and I’s room to see Harry continuing to struggle. “God YN please, just do something, please I promise I won’t say a word. I won’t even make a sound, I just really need to cum. Please.” He whines, fighting against the cuffs. “You really need to learn patience.” I say climbing onto the bed, and spreading my legs nice and wide, so he has a perfect view of what I’m about to do.

I bring my hand up to my mouth and seductively suck on my pointer and middle finger, getting them nice and moist, before moving them down my body, across my nipples and down to my dripping center. Seeing Harry tied up, in this defenseless state has left me extremely wet. I let out a gasp as I run my middle finger up and down my slit, collecting my juices. Harry moans and fights against the handcuffs once more. “God babe please let me touch you, or eat you, god I wanna taste your pretty little pussy so bad.” Harry whines, bucking his hips into the air. “Mm. Maybe later.” I say, continuing to focus on myself.

I start off slowly rubbing my finger on my clit, making me moan out at the sensation of my cold fingers rubbing against the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Mm. Fuck.” I curse, letting my head fall back, as I insert a single finger inside myself. “God, Harry, feels so good.” I moan, pumping my finger at a faster pace. “Fuck baby girl, you look so hot like that, god you’re so wet, nearly dripping. Add another finger for daddy.” I do as he says, letting him feel like he has some control, even though he doesn’t. I moan out as I feel the familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach start to settle. “Daddy! Oh daddy.” I moan, knowing that calling him daddy drives him absolutely insane.

Harry is very dominant in the bedroom, and a part of his dominance means that he doesn’t want me to cum unless he’s making it happen. “I swear to god YN if you cum, you’ll be sorry.” Harry states, looking at me with dark eyes. “Can’t do anything about it, can ya Styles?” I ask, adding another finger, increasing the pleasure. “I swear to god when I’m out of these I’m going to rip you apart.” I ignore his words, pumping my fingers in and out at a faster pace, getting me closer and closer to my orgasm.

I moan out loud as my back arches off the clean sheets, and my toes curl, feeling my orgasm wash over me. “Daddy.” I whimper brokenly as I slow the movement of my fingers. I look over at Harry and he’s an absolute mess. I take my fingers out of myself and straddle his stomach once again, bringing one of my wet fingers up to my lips and licking my juices off, moaning at the taste. Harry looks at me with wide eyes. “You wanna taste?” I ask biting my lip, and he nods violently, not daring to make a sound. I take my two other wet fingers and place them on his lips. He opens his mouth and sucks on my fingers, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as he sucks harshly. “You taste amazing as always darling.” He smirks. “Let’s see how you taste.” I say, sending a wink in his direction.

I lean back down over his torso and start leaving kisses down his happy trail and across his hips. I suck and nibble on his skin every so often, just to tease him a little bit. I kiss down his thighs, nipping at the tiger tattoo etched into his tanned skin. Without warning, I lick a bold stripe up Harry’s cock, making him moan, and he bucks his hips into the air. I take my hands and steady him once again. “Seeing you this hard, is making me so fucking wet.” I groan, starting to kitten lick the tip of his cock, as precum starts oozing out. “Mmm.” I moan, wrapping my hand around him and pumping his aching cock in my hand.

I bring my face down and lick the precum off, and Harry moans, letting his head fall back onto his biceps. I relish the beautiful, sticky salty substance on my tongue. “Mm. You taste so good.” I moan, taking just the tip of his cock into my mouth. I hollow out my cheeks and suck softly, then letting him fall out of my mouth. Harry lets out a cry. “Please baby, do something more, please, I need to cum. Please.” He whines. I look up at him to see tears roll down his skin and across his temples. A sudden rush of guilt washes over me. I shake my head, bringing my lips back to his cock.

I take more of him into my mouth, sucking with a rougher intensity. “Fuck baby girl, I love your mouth so much.” Harry moans, bucking his hips once again, making more of him slide into my mouth. I don’t stop him, he’s been through enough. I bring my hand up and start pumping whatever didn’t fit in my mouth. Harry’s stomach starts to clench and his toes curl, as he brings his knees up to his chest in ecstasy. He moans out once more, before emptying his load into my mouth. He sighs in relief, and relaxes his muscles. I hum in satisfaction and swallow all of him, wiping the sides of my mouth, ridding my skin of any excess.

“Mm. You taste wonderful.” I say, licking my lips, savoring his taste that lingers on my tongue. “Have you realized why I did this?” I ask, running my hand through his hair. “Sadly, yes.” “And why did I do this?” I ask “Because you’re paying me back for what I’ve done to you.” “Which is…” I say, wanting him to admit it. He sighs, finally giving in. “I’ve tied you up, and punished you very many times. And when I punish you, I always fuck you senseless but don’t let you cum and then I do it again and again, to see how many times you can take it, until you’re shaking beneath me.” Finally he admits it. “Glad you can remember. And what are you gonna do about it?” I ask, gently massaging his scalp. “Stop. Unless I really have to punish you.” I nod. “Good job, you passed the test.” I say leaning over him to grab the key to unlock his handcuffs.

He rubs his wrists where the metal dug into his skin minutes ago. “I do love you YN, and I didn’t know it was that bad. Why didn’t you say anything to me sooner?” He asks, grabbing my hand and pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles. I shrug. “I didn’t want you to get mad.” I say, playing with his fingers that are intertwined with mine. “Sweetheart.” He says placing his pointer finger under my chin, making me look at him. His beautiful green eyes stare into mine. “You can always talk to me about anything, please don’t hide stuff like this from me babe. I need to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. I want to please you, and make sure you feel good, so please, my love, please talk to me, alright?” He asks and I nod. “I’ll talk to you, I promise.” I say, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

The kiss turned hot fast. Harry’s hands quickly found my thighs and squeezed them in his large, warm hands. I let out a heavy breath, as he started leaving hot, wet, open mouth kisses down my jawline and across my neck. He sucks harshly at my skin, making me moan. “H-Harry.” I choke out, distracted by his intense attention on my neck. He quickly squeezes my hips. “That’s not my name darling.” He mumbles, continuing to give me hickeys all over my skin. “Daddy, please.” I moan, wanting to feel him inside me. “Please what? Use your words. Daddy doesn’t know what you want unless you use your words baby girl.” “Please fuck me daddy, I need to feel your cock inside me, please.” “You’ve been a bad girl to daddy.” He whispers against the shell of my ear. I bite my lip. He better not walk away, I might just jump on him, literally. “But I guess I can excuse your sip up just this once.” He says nibbling on my earlobe.

He nudges me so I’m laying on my back, and pushes my legs up, so my knees are against my chest, completely exposing myself to him. “You’re so beautiful. Everywhere, darling.” He says, placing gentle kisses around my tummy, making me giggle at the feeling of his lips on my ticklish skin. He kisses up my body, and presses his lips to mine. I gasp into his mouth as he pushes his still erect cock inside me. I let out a moan, mixed with a whine, against Harry’s lips. He pushes himself further inside me, opening my walls. “Oh daddy, you feel so good inside me.” I moan, rolling my head on the pillow below my head. “You’re so tight darling, you feel so amazing around my cock.” He moans.

“Harder daddy.” Harry happy obliges, pounding into me harder, at a faster pace. He suddenly pulls out, making me whine at the loss of his cock between my walls. “Don’t worry darling, we’re not done yet. Get on all fours.” He says smirking at me. I nod at him and scramble up onto my hands and knees on the soft mattress. Harry’s hand quickly comes down onto the skin of my ass, making me gasp in both pain and pleasure. “You’re daddy’s dirty little girl aren’t ya?” He asks slapping my ass again. “Yes daddy, I’m your dirty little girl. All yours. Only yours.” I say, impatiently waiting for him to fuck me again. “Good girl.” He says leaving kisses and hickeys up my spine.

He slips inside me again and rocks his hips against mine, gently drilling more of himself inside me. He settles himself on his knees on top of the mattress, before pushing all of himself inside me. He starts moving in and out of me at a steady pace, caressing my walls with his huge cock. As his movements increase, our skin slaps together and I can feel the skin of Harry’s pubic bone slap against the skin of my ass every time he thrusts himself inside me. I moan out as I feel the tip of his cock hit that sweet spot inside me. “Right there daddy.” I moan out, gripping the sheets beneath me. “You gonna cum for me baby girl?” He asks “Yes daddy.” I moan out. “Come on baby girl. Cum for daddy. Let everyone know how good only I can make you feel.” He says increasing his speed even more. I cry out as my orgasm crashes over me, making my legs shake. Harry lets out a loud groan as he releases himself inside me. His cum shoots inside me, coating my walls.

I hum in satisfaction as Harry pulls out and I flop on my stomach, making Harry laugh. “That was the most intense sex we’ve ever had.” He observes, laying down next to me. I nod in agreement, completely exhausted from the events that just happened. “Was it good for you? Did you… Finish, you didn’t fake it right?” He asks. I love how caring he is. “I would never fake with you. Yes I did finish, it was amazing.” I say cuddling into his side. “I love you.” He says pressing a kiss to my sweaty face. “I love you.” I say pressing a kiss to his chest.

#harry styles imagine

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juuvio · 7 years ago

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Kill Our Way to Heaven

Haikyuu!! [Sawamura Daichi / Kuroo Tetsurou]

Genre: Angst, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual romance, dancing AU.

Rating: Mature

SUMMARY

When Daichi watches the alluring creature move in harmony to the music, he feels the freedom he hadn't felt all his life.

Also available on AO3!

CHAPTERS: 5/?

The club venue oozed with class with its blend of sophisticated style and sumptuous velvet furniture, combined with contrasting fluorescent lightning flashing from above; the classic color changing dance floor brought life to the party that raged on each night.

The dark haired man fumbled in his pockets for his wallet as he sat on a stall at the bar counter, watching the dance floor flare with vivid colors to dance with the people on top of it. Daichi wasn’t one to dance himself, but he often liked watching others give it their all while they were wasted. Amusing at the very least. A bulkier man, muscles protruding through his form-fitting shirt and wild, spiked up silver hair scooted up next to Daichi, throwing an arm around him. The guy sure didn’t have boundaries, and Daichi often wondered how he managed to get along with someone so touchy-feely. In all honesty, they wouldn’t be friends in the first place if they didn’t happen to sit by each other in class. But Daichi couldn’t deny he was glad they did, Bokuto was a good friend even in the short amount of time they got to know each other.

“Daichi, man! So I want you to meet my boyfriend.” His raised voice was barely heard over the blaring music, which was a surprise considering Bokuto is very loud. He nodded towards the bartender who sported a striking icy gaze, pretty much perfectly proportioned features and messy, dark wavy hair. Good looking was an understatement. He gave Daichi a soft smile as he held a towel and a glass in his hands.

“Hey, I’m Akaashi Keiji. Bokuto mentions you a lot.”

“Sawamura Daichi… But just Daichi is fine. Nice to meet you.”

He nodded and briefly glanced away to place the glass down, directing his attention back on the two men. “Fancy drinking anything? It’s on the house.”

“Oh, I’ve already drank quite a bit before coming out—”

“Oh come you had like half a glass!” Bokuto whined beside his face, Daichi feeling his intrusive breath on his cheek. Bokuto was always so close, his touchy habits training Daichi to not be so bothered if he ever felt someone jump on him in the middle of the street. That wasn’t an entirely a good thing, what if he was getting mugged and he assumed it was Bokuto?

“If you don’t remember correctly, I didn’t even want to come out.” Daichi groaned. This whole night had been unplanned. All he wanted to do was sleep, but Bokuto was ever so persistent and basically dragged Daichi out of his apartment. Although, perhaps it was a good thing. That apartment had been feeling increasingly suffocating in the recent weeks, following a break up with Yui. He still loved her, the same as he always did when they were friends, and even now after all they went through. But Daichi needed time to heal before anything got back to normal again.

“But you never come out.” The owl like man turned away from the bar and his almost golden gaze widened at the dancefloor. “So about that other friend I wanted you to meet…” His eyes were unmoving from the area and Daichi furrowed his brows before sliding himself around on the stool to face the dance floor. There was some sort of commotion, and it was hard to make out what was going on until he focussed properly. A song Daichi hadn’t heard before rang in the background, the lyrics English and hard to understand, yet from his frequent exposure to various musical artists being young and all, he managed translate a few words.

The figure in the centre of the attention moved gracefully yet firmly along with the tune, his hips moving erotically against the low vibrations left by the bass, head thrown back in a dramatic motion for the rest of his unruly hair to follow, the look in his eyes fierce and deadly as he ran a jeweled tongue along his parted lips. His face was mesmerizing, those dark long eyelashes that stretched out for days on end, elongated by the casted shadow under the harsh lighting that occasionally crossed him, the subtle perkiness of his nose, the way his skin was as golden as the sun and echoed back the vivid colors of the strobes. The deep obsidian hair fell over half of the dancer’s face, and the rest of it reaching out in every other direction. Chaotic may have been an understatement, it looked like the guy just rolled out of bed and got on with the day.

His movements however, were not so lazy and disorderly. It felt free yet organized into this perfect sequence that flowed in perfect timing to the tune that surrounded him.

Daichi was totally and utterly captivated by this alluring creature, and that’s not something that happened every day. In fact, recently he had been numb of emotions that run along with being attracted to another person, fear settling in the depths of the cracks in his character, but this performance unfolding before him washed away the clawing at the corners of his mind. It drew him in, embraced him, trapped him in a world detached from reality. The surreal feline glare landed on him many moments ago before Daichi tore himself out of the daze, realizing only when the otherworldly beauty ran a warm touch down the side of his face, amber gaze locked onto him viciously. His skin shon with the sweat sheened upon it, gleaming off the unnatural lighting surrounding them.

“Wow,” Daichi breathed, releasing that breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. The mischievous smirk that crossed the dancer’s face sent skin crawling chills down his spine.

“Aw~ Bo, this your friend? He’s adorable!” Daichi was startled by his blissful laugh that followed his words, shooting a look at Bokuto.

A cackle sounded beside Daichi, this time coming from the his two-toned hair friend. “Next time, don’t watch him so intently. He’s a witch, or somethin’. Puts a spell over you and once you start looking you can’t look away!”

Daichi felt the sheepish heat crawl across his face, raising his hand to hide himself away some how with a groan. “Sorry.”

“What? Don’t apologize man, I love it when I get stared at.” He patted Daichi on the shoulder and dropped himself down on the stool next to him, leaning over the counter to speak close to Akaashi so he could hear him.

“That’s Kuroo. Fucking awesome dancer, right?” Bokuto spoke in Daichi’s ear, whose face was pulled into a sloppy grin and cheeks warmed to a pink shade from the alcohol.

“Pretty impressive...” Daichi agreed, side glancing this Kuroo person who turned back to face them as Akaashi passed him his drink.

“So, who’s handsome?” He asked, Daichi being too dense to realize he was referring to him.

“Bro, meet Sawamura Daichi! Daichi, Kuroo Tetsurou.” Bokuto gestured between the two men as he dragged his stool over to sit more in a circle like form with the other two. “Daichi here is in my class!”

“Oh sick, first time I’ve seen you though. Surprising you’re Bo’s friend and he’s only just dragged you out now.” A short snicker left him and he took a sip from his drink.

Before Daichi could fit a word in, the conversation was yet again overpowered by Bokuto. “Couldn’t scare him away as soon as I meet him! Now he’s warmed up a little I’m totally bringing him out all the time.”

“Are you now?” Daichi challenged the owl, hearing Kuroo crack up. “Good luck.”

“Ooooh, man he’s putting up a fight. Someone doesn’t want to go out partying with Bokuto?” Kuroo’s tone was laced with playfulness and taunts, earning that much wanted reaction out of Bokuto when he blew up in his face and demanded Daichi to come out with him every weekend starting from now.

Kuroo excused himself to head out to the smoking area, Daichi accepting his request to join him to leave Bokuto and Akaashi to have some time to themselves. He still didn’t really know this Kuroo, but his entire being intrigued him. So far he gathered he was an amazing dancer, Bokuto’s best friend, and insanely attractive. What was Daichi thinking, was he having a crush 10 minutes into meeting someone? He felt like a schoolgirl. And on top of it all, he was crushing on another guy. He knew it was okay, Bokuto and Akaashi are perfect together. But Daichi never imagined himself to be attracted to guys, this was most certainly a first. Or maybe he had the feelings deep down the whole time, but buried desperately in denial.

Daichi caught the flick of the lighter ignite the end of the cigarette, the smoke curling upwards and danced with itself, very much like how Kuroo did. “So that dance earlier… You practiced that for a while or something?”

“Huh? Oh, nah I improvised. I was being sloppy as hell, I’m too drunk to dance properly.” Daichi had lost count of the times the laugh that left the taller male made his heart stutter on a beat and the way it made his stomach fill with wings.

“What? That seriously wasn’t you dancing properly?” Daichi gaped his mouth in disbelief, pretty convinced that his performance was something the gods themselves choreographed.

“Oh god, I’m embarrassed!” He raised a hand to cover his face, tips of his ears growing warmer. “I can’t even see straight! My footing was all wrong and I was totally out of time with the music.”

Daichi had always heard of performers of all sorts to be self-critical, but seeing it in the action truly shocked him. “Well, for what it’s worth… I thought it was perfect.” Did I really just say that? He swallowed back his tongue and nervously rubbed the back of his head while he mused over what to say next to make Kuroo forget he ever said anything.

“Really? That actually means a lot.” Kuroo gave him a soft smile— or a smile that was at least softer and more innocent than his recent devious smirks and grins. Even those sharp, amber eyes softened which made him look significantly younger. Cute. Daichi mentally shook himself, was he already drunk to start thinking these things? Not a chance, he wasn’t so much of a lightweight regardless that he didn’t tend to drink a lot. “Hey, Daichi?”

“Yeah?” Daichi thought he might have responded too quick, but Kuroo continued on as normal.

“Well, forgive me if I’m wrong but, you kinda seem upset,” Kuroo stated honestly, cocking an eyebrow up at Daichi’s stretched out silence. “Sorry—”

“Ah no, no it’s okay. Was just thinking.” He trailed his eyes around the small outside smoking area surrounded by this wooden fencing and some overhead wooden shelter rimmed with festive wired lights that hung down loosely on some areas. He took a large gulp of his drink before speaking again. “Few weeks ago me and my girlfriend broke up, guess I’m still not over it…” He didn’t understand why he was sharing this with a guy he just met, he could have lied and said he was fine. But he didn’t. It was only now that it was clear he desperately needed to lift that weight bearing down on his chest that he would willingly tell anyone nearby.

Kuroo gave him a sympathetic smile and lightly tapped Daichi’s shoulder with his fist. “Where there’s love there’s no getting over that crap. There’s just moving past it.” He spoke as though from experience, and Daichi drew his eyes to look at the brief sullen expression that masked Kuroo’s features. He turned his head to look at Daichi again, holding up his glass towards him. “Cheers to failed love.”

What a dark way to put it, but Daichi found himself chuckle anyway. Maybe because it was painfully true. “Yeah, cheers.”

The glasses left a ringing aftermath from the clink, the two men proceeding to drown themselves in the rest of their drinks and pulling away with a gasp for fresh air. Daichi pulled a strained face at the burning down his throat, not remembering the last time he drank that quickly before. Kuroo crushed the end of the cigarette butt on a nearby table and motioned his head towards the door. “I’m hearing some tunes going off in there, let’s go.”

Daichi was taken aback when the bed head took his hand, pulling him by the arm through the heavy door and weaving past various clubbers. He watched Kuroo’s nape as though he was in a trance, unable to tear his eyes away from the man guiding him. He only just noticed, but it seemed like Kuroo had an undercut, though only noticeable and visible from behind. Little details.

Kuroo swirled back around to face Daichi, his lips slowly pulled in a grin before leaning in closer to the slightly shorter man, soft lips brushing against the other’s ear. Daichi felt chills in this heated environment. “I’m gonna go grab us some more drinks.”

He nodded and watched Kuroo make his way towards the bar, Bokuto throwing his arms up in one of his over exaggerated motions upon seeing Kuroo again. Daichi finally mustered the energy to force his legs to follow on, joining the others at the counter. When Akaashi lined up several shot glasses in front of them and filled them with a clear liquid, Daichi could feel already tell he wasn’t going to make it out alive tonight.

“Ready?” Bokuto asked, pushing over an even amount of shot glasses between him, Kuroo and Daichi. On the count of 3, they threw back the shots one after another, pushing past hesitation on the following shots they had to come while their throats and chests felt like they were on fire. This time, Daichi wasn’t the only one pulling a face. Bokuto let out a victory howl of some sort, while Kuroo groaned dramatically as he scrunched his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill over the corners.

“Fucking sambuca. I’m gonna throw up.” Kuroo rasped, cupping his mouth following up an unnerving gag.

“Please not over the counter, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said, concern curving his brows from the fear of having to clean up vomit.

“Ugh, man you got soft. You could take way worse than that!” Bokuto’s laugh boomed, turning on his chair to face Daichi. “See, even newbie here is fine!”

“I’m not.” Daichi held back a burp in case a cup full of vomit came up instead of air. “I’m never doing that again.”

Another presence made itself known when unknown arms wrapped around Kuroo’s hunched over torso from behind, a ball of cinnamon hair briefly made out under the dim lighting. “Assholes doing shots without us.” His voice was whiny and almost child-like, bringing his head up to rest his chin on top of Kuroo’s nest. “Akaaaashi, give me and Iwa-chan the strongest shit here. We gotta catch up.”

“Oh shit, you two losers.” Kuroo chuckled from under his arms, raising his head up from the sticky counter. “Man get off you’re breaking my neck.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“Fucking obese.”

Daichi found himself laughing at their little bickering, the previous burning now morphed into a warm buzz lingering in his chest. He watched another man whom he recognized from University as Iwaizumi Hajime, pry doe-eyed man off Kuroo and the dancer raised from his seat and took confident steps towards him. He stopped before him and looked down at Daichi, expression completely unreadable. “Yes?”

“Let’s dance.”

“I don’t think I could keep up with you, Mr. Professional Dancer,” Daichi remarked, watching Kuroo’s signature smirk make another appearance.

“I’ll lead the way, just trust me.”

“Trust is a strong word you know.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall and break your neck or anything crazy.”

“Maybe I could trust that much, or should I be worried?”

Kuroo’s toothy grin beamed at him, feeling as though he could melt under that smile all night. “Depends, do you deem me to be dangerous?”

The way the word rolled off his tongue raised the hairs all over Daichi’s body, the slight glimmer of his tongue bar gleaming through his rosy lips and pearly teeth as he spoke. That was enough to prompt him to grab onto Kuroo’s plain black T-shirt and pull him in close, their sheened skins almost touching. “You reek of danger.”

Kuroo’s hands locked around Daichi’s arms, pulling and tugging him wobbily onto the luminous dance floor and spun around with added drama to the effect. His stray strands fallen on his face made the most movement, swinging across his entire face and small pieces matted his to glowing face. Daichi felt the other’s hands travel past his waist, brushing up to his back to gain leverage. He didn’t know what Kuroo had in mind, but if it was anything like what he pulled off earlier that night, Daichi would most definitely be left with broken bones.

Daichi’s body was forced backwards, but before he could register he was about to fall or completely lose his footing, a firm grip was planted on his arms, twisting him into a twirl then landed him in Kuroo’s ‘X’ positioned arms across his chest, his lips barely glazing across his skin and breath sending waves of ice across his body from ghosting upon it. It wasn’t long until Kuroo had pushed him out again and held only one arm securely to twirl him out. Daichi felt his vision flash when Kuroo suddenly disappeared from his field of vision, realizing moments later he was down below, crouched down with his slender legs parted outwards and his expression directed upwards towards him sultry and bone-tingling. Fuck. That tongue piercing again, Daichi could never get bored of seeing it run along those dreamy lips of his.

Kuroo planted each of his hands on Daichi’s thighs, oh those thick, toned to death thighs. Kuroo had to hold back his request of having Daichi choke him up to hell’s door with them to avoid looking too crazy. He felt all the bumps and curves that shaped his legs through his jeans, only leaving his imagination to run wild about what monsters could be hidden underneath. He stumbled a bit on way up, the alcohol finally taking it’s toll on his coordination, but Daichi’s strong arms held each side of Kuroo’s, his warm, dark eyes staring intently at the antique gaze. They continued on with their semi-graceful movements, likely not to be due to intoxication hindering their balance, but Daichi still felt like he was on clouds when Kuroo pulled him around like a marionette. He felt alive, as though those movements were his own. He felt free and serene, surrounded by the blaring music and blinding colors that felt like anything but wild like they were suppose to be. This dreamlike state he was lost in consumed his mind, intoxicated him as the alcohol did, dragged him into an untouched world where it was only him and Kuroo.

When warmth grew against his lips, Daichi never expected it would be Kuroo’s lips crushed against his own. They moulded and fitted perfectly, the movement smooth and flowed in with each other. It felt so right, or at least right for now. Tomorrow when he was sober and hungover he could regret this, but for this very moment he let himself go. They eventually pulled away, but in no hurry. They left a small space between their faces, and it was rather disorientating to begin with, seeing Kuroo so up close like this. Kuroo literally looked flawless even at point-blank.

“You’re beautiful,” Daichi breathed out, his warm breath brushing against Kuroo’s skin.

“You’re undeniably hot,” Kuroo responded, his lazy grin crossing his features. “Thought you were straight?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” Daichi answered honestly, mentally questioning his lack of bewilderment at this moment. He was kissing Kuroo, a guy, a guy he just met, a guy who he finds insanely attractive. “I suppose this answers all my sexuality questions…”

Kuroo giggled at Daichi’s confusion. “Guess so, am I seriously your first gay kiss?”

“Uh-huh.” Daichi admitted, their faces pulled further apart now as they shuffled off the dance floor without tearing their eyes away from one another. A few whistles and hoots sounded from the bar counter, the two drawing their attention towards Bokuto, Oikawa, Iwaizumi and some other newly joint students Daichi recognized from University. Right, everyone just witnessed me make out with Kuroo. The burning under his skin made itself more prominent in the short space of 5 seconds and he whipped his head away sheepishly. “Oh god.”

“Whoops, can’t hide now.” Kuroo snickered close to his face.

Daichi stole a glance towards Kuroo, noting that he was right. “Fuck it then.” He clutched the back of Kuroo head, intertwining his fingers through his silky locks and pulled him down for a second make out session. I don’t regret this now, but later is a different story.

The soft quilts were not his own, but Daichi still felt right at home. The surroundings were not familiar, but he felt comfortable. Or better put it, he felt too lost in the depths of lust to care where the hell he was. The increasingly large gaps in his memory and awareness was not concerning, he was drunk, it was expected. Now what was worth caring about was the immensely seductive devil beneath his weight, his sinful lips dancing with Daichi’s, wandering hands trailing in those regions Daichi wouldn’t think another man would venture in. Daichi held the other’s heavily decorated wrist above his head, feeling the ropey texture of the many cord bracelets lined up on his wrist. He pulled away to take in the marvelling sight before him. Kuroo was beautiful. But so was Yui. So why did he never feel this way towards her? Why did he not feel this intense, mind consuming light when laying his eyes upon her beautiful body? Why?

Daichi hadn’t noticed the drowsy voice from below him speak multiple times until a warmth spread across his cheek. It was Kuroo’s hand, his thumb soothingly tracing circles along his skin and his eyes glazed with concern. “Daichi?”

“I— I’m sorry. I’m not sure…” What I’m doing. He couldn’t force the words out, and he was scared to look back at Kuroo’s face. Afraid to see the look of disappointment. “I’m just—”

“Daichi. Relax. We don’t have to do anything.” He gave a soft chuckle, but it sounded more sincere rather than humorous. “I mean I wasn’t gonna let anything further than this happen, I’m too drunk to see what I’m doing.”

“Fuck, I’m really sorry.”

“Honestly, don’t worry about it!” When Daichi rolled off Kuroo he sat up with a groan, running a hand down his weary face. “You can still crash here if you want.”

Daichi glanced around the room, noting the sophistication and modernism to it yet with a little added personality. Book shelves were organized neatly, almost too neat to be considered simple need for tidiness, the desk home to a Macbook, surrounded by a few action figures from whatever series Daichi couldn’t make out, his sight gravely hindered by his intoxication. He snickered briefly to himself, this guy’s a bit of a dork… “I— uh… This your place?”

“Yeah, live alone so don’t worry about running into anyone else here,” Kuroo assured, leaning his head back on the leather headboard. His voice was slightly slurred and drawled out, as expected. “There’s spare room round the corner, come I’ll show you.” Kuroo hopped off the bed in a stumble and almost lost his footing, but thankfully regained his balance. Sort of. He shot out a sloppy grin to the rather terrified looking Daichi who thought he’d have to look after someone with a concussion for the rest of the night. He held out a hand towards Daichi, who took it gratefully and in which it aided him in not falling over like Kuroo almost did.

Their fingers remained interlinked as Kuroo led Daichi down the dark hallway, the only light source coming from Kuroo’s supposedly bedroom behind them. They stopped at another door and entered, the room looking less personal and more guest roomy. “Ta-da! Make yourself at home, I need to go pass out or somethin’.” Daichi didn’t have time to question anything; before he knew it Kuroo was stumbling back down the hall and was soon followed by the sickening sound of him hurling his guts out in the bathroom, the splashing against the toilet bowl causing Daichi’s stomach to turn.

“Eugh,” Daichi expressed with a chuckle, looking ahead in the dark room. He dragged his feet and let himself drop on the bed like a pile of rocks, feeling the room shift and spin uncontrollably as soon as his feet left the firm ground. The spinning was almost enough to make Daichi throw up himself, but he thankfully had a strong stomach.

His eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, the spinning becoming more intense as the darkness began to engulf him but his entire body had already shut down, leaving him incapable of moving now regardless if the spinning threw his brain out the window. Eventually, finally, he was lost in the bizarre and wonderful world of dreaming.

The luminous, mid-morning gleam peeked past the wooden blinds, the fluid light creeping through even the tiniest cracks to intrude on the peaceful darkness. Daichi’s eyes had not yet met with the waking world, but his mind cried at the persistent ache brewing behind his eyes and in the depths of his temples. His mouth and throat felt like the desert, and his body ached like the after-workout curse. In other words, Daichi felt like shit.

Minutes passed by too quick for Daichi to process, the crippling hangover preventing him from making a move out of this unbelievably comfy bed… A bed that wasn’t his. He pushed himself up and looked around the room, perplexity settling in his mind as he mulled over if he booked out a hotel or something, or maybe he broke into somebody’s house, or something that could explain where the hell he was.

Ignoring the pain behind his eyes that only grew with movement, Daichi pushed himself off the bed and took a few unsteady steps towards the door, opening it as gentle as possible. He glanced up and down the hall before following the sound of maybe the television playing distantly in the background. The short hallway opened up to what seemed to be the living room, a large television playing Tom & Jerry with a certain bed head huddled up on the sofa, knees raised his his chest and a cigarette between his fingers. Now it started to come back to Daichi, he crashed at Kuroo’s. After doing nothing with him. He wasn’t sure if he should be disappointed or thankful, and he was rather surprised he was still painfully attracted to the memory of that gorgeous dancer. The same gorgeous dancer watching cartoons in the morning. Adorable.

“Tom and Jerry, really?” Daichi asked, his sudden voice clearly scaring the crap out of Kuroo who reacted faster than a spooked cat.

“Fuck, Daichi. And yes I will never grow out of Tom and Jerry.” He held a hand over his chest to calm his nerves and relaxed back into the sofa while still sat to face Daichi, a tired smile stretching his lips. “Had a good sleep?”

“I think so, but I feel shit now.”

“Same man,” he groaned, turning back to face the television. He seemed genuinely interested in the episode. “Grab yourself a drink or something, there isn’t much food unless you fancy pocky for breakfast.”

Daichi followed his outstretched arm towards the kitchen and laughed. “I’ll stick with just water. Hey uh, thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Don't mention it.”

The kitchen held the undertones of something freshly furnished or just very modern, the entire apartment looking on the high-end spectrum of living areas. Bokuto had mentioned his friend, now known to be Kuroo, was the same age as them. How did a 20 year old afford something so nice? “So, you always lived alone?”

“Yeah, surprisingly this place isn’t so expensive. But still a bit pricey to handle alone. Actually looking for a roomie so we could split, it’s kinda a struggle to pay it all myself.”

Daichi felt his eyebrows raise at the roomie part. “Looking for a roommate?”

Kuroo turned his amber gaze towards him, an idea sparking the light behind them. “You know anyone? Or like, are you looking by any chance?”

“Actually…” Daichi hesitated, musing whether or not this was a good idea. Kuroo was acting normal as ever about the night before, so Daichi should too. It meant nothing. Yet he couldn’t rid that clawing feeling at the back of his mind about what he felt when he watched Kuroo last night, and why he lacked that with someone he thought he was in love with. “I mean I still live with my ex. So I guess I am kind of looking. How much is it?”

“Oh ouch, you need to get out of there,” Kuroo smirked playfully, “well if it’s split between us two then it’s ¥30 thousand a month. Kinda pricey but then again it’s Tokyo… And this place isn’t rat infested!”

Daichi wasn’t even surprised at the price, he was more surprised Kuroo was able to pay the full ¥60 thousand on his own up until now. “Oh that’s actually okay…” This isn’t a good idea. “But I’ll probably have to think about it a little, I mean moving is a big deal.” Moving is a big deal, that wasn’t a lie. But it’s an especially big deal when moving in with someone that confused the hell out of your sexuality, and the fact they get stupidly drunk and semi-hooked up.

Kuroo gave a shrug and smiled, looking back towards the screen and drawing in a long drag from his cigarette, the end flaring brightly between the cracks in the dull ash. “Sure, if you make up your mind and all just call me.” He tossed his unlocked phone at the end of the sofa closest to Daichi, who walked over to pick it up. He added his contact information onto Kuroo’s list and shot himself a gibberish text to get Kuroo’s number, the buzz felt faintly in the jeans pocket. He stepped over to Kuroo to hand him his phone back, their hands lingering on the slight touch for a moment too long before they pulled away.

“Nice meeting you, Daichi.” He smiled, that lazy, taunting smile which screamed out to Daichi ‘I know I’ll see you again.’

“You too, Kuroo.”

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#mywriting #hq!! fanfiction #fanfic #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou #sawamura daichi #kurodai #kuroo tetsurou x sawamura daichi

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junker-town · 6 years ago

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Can a team of 25 Ichiros win the World Series?

If you were to build a team with nothing but clones of a single player, which player would you choose? The correct answer is Ichiro Suzuki, and Kofie Yeboah is going to prove it.

When people talk about MVP Baseball 2005, two words always come out of their mouths.

“Jon Dowd.”

Yes, the EA Sports counter to Barry Bonds turned into a cult icon for many years after the series ended. The character became something people can talk about at networking events and water coolers to prove that they, in fact, also had a childhood. The reason why the 40-year-old wasn’t in the game was due to the fact that Bonds decided to individually license his likeness, rather than work with the MLBPA. So instead of getting dude with an iconic cross earring and a batting stance that oozes swagger, we got a guy that you can’t pick out of an Imagine Dragons lineup with the most generic batting stance.

Seriously, it literally says generic.

I used to do this anyway.

If you ask me, the best player in the game was not Jon Dowd, but Ichiro Suzuki.

While there aren’t official overall rating numbers in this game, Ichiro is listed as the 13th best player in the game behind Jon Dowd, Vladimir Guerrero, Albert Pujols, Todd Helton, Manny Ramirez, Ivan “Pudge” Rodriguez, Scott Rolen, Pedro Martinez, Johan Santana, Adrian Beltre, Randy Johnson and David Ortiz.

It makes sense when you look at this on screen, but when you actually play the video game it’s clear that Ichiro is even better than his already high overall ranking.

To showcase Ichiro’s talents and abilities, I’ve decided to make a team comprised of Ichiro clones to see if they can win the World Series.

But before I do that, let’s take a closer look at the elements that make Ichiro an absolute nightmare for the other team.

Hitting

First, I want to address the hitting mechanics in MVP Baseball 2005. As is the case with many of today’s video games, hitting is separated into contact and power. A hitter with good contact and bad power can theoretically launch the ball into orbit if the pitch is juicy enough. A big power hitter with bad contact can launch many balls into space, but have a higher risk of pop ups and long fly ball outs.

This isn’t the case with Ichiro.

Ichiro is so good at contact hitting that he could also in turn hit for power. Against left-handed pitching, he was given a power rating of 69 and a contact rating of 99. Against right-handed pitching, he was given a power rating of 58 and a contact rating of 97.

The power rating doesn’t seem that impressive until you look at some of the other players in the game. Miguel Cabrera, a player with 33 home runs in 2004, was given a 74 power rating against lefties.

Adrian Beltre — who hit 48 home runs in 2004, but only six against left-handed pitching — was given a 71 overall power rating against lefties. This decent power rating paired with godlike contact skill allowed Ichiro to have a different play style in the video game. According to Baseball-Reference.com, Ichiro had a home run to fly ball ratio of 3.8%. Let’s compare that to Barry Bo … I mean Jon Dowd, whose ratio was 24.5% in that same season.

Ratings aside, you could hit many home runs with Ichiro if you wanted. Of all the hot and cold zone displays in the game, Ichiro is one of the few players with more than 9 total hot zones out of the 18 possible.

Of those few, most are all-stars or legends who have to be unlocked in the game, so that puts Ichiro in elite company. If you gave Ichiro a high 2-seam or 4-seam fastball, there was a good chance he would tag it out of the park.

Ichiro’s power potential isn’t far-fetched either. His longest homer in the Statcast era is 432 feet. There’s even a dope video from the YouTube channel Foolish Baseball that investigates Ichiro’s power-hitting potential.

However, doing so would be disrespectful to real life Ichiro, a player who once said, “chicks who dig home runs aren’t the ones who appeal to me. I think there’s sexiness in infield hits because they require technique.”

With this newfound power, Ichiro could also hit the ball over the outfielders, who would play shallow against him on certain occasions. This allowed for normal fly balls to drop in for a hit, and gave Ichiro another chance to showcase his speed. In his case, if a ball hit the wall, it was almost always a guaranteed triple. Depending on the dimensions of the ballpark, it could be an instant home run.

My favorite part of the game was choosing a retro ballpark with absolutely wonky dimensions and watching Ichiro just go to town with his speed. It was amazing to watch. Let’s look at the Polo Grounds as an example. You see how the center field fence is 483 feet away from home plate? Trust me, this will come up later.

To test Ichiro’s power potential, I put him against Albert Pujols in the home run showdown. Even thought he lost most of the showdowns, Ichiro would often hit the same number of home runs as Albert Pujols. Here is one of the attempts. Yes, Albert won, but it shouldn’t be this close. At all.

This result had me convinced that Ichiro could actually win.

So close.

19 POINTS?! OH COME ON!

It took over 20+ tries, but Ichiro finally beat Albert in a Home Run Showdown.

Even if you didn’t want to go for the long ball, you could still wreck all kinds of havoc on the diamond. Because at the end of the day ...

Ichiro is still fast as hell.

Ichiro’s speed rating is a 97, which is a freaking nightmare for catchers, pitchers and the entire defense at the same time. The only players faster than Ichiro in this game are:

Lou Brock, and that’s it. Power didn’t dominate MVP Baseball 2005. Speed did.

If you started a fantasy dynasty of fast players, such as Scott Podsednik, Rafael Furcal, Chone Figgins, Carl Crawford and Juan Pierre, you could construct the most irritating lineup of all time.

With players like these, you were damn near guaranteed to make it to second after bunting, making it to first and then stealing. If the catcher wasn’t a top-tier thrower, they were screwed. If the pitcher took a long time delivering the ball out of the stretch, they were out of luck.

To put his speed to the test, we had Ichiro attempt to steal 100 bases against the best-throwing catcher in the game, Ivan Rodriguez (Henry Blanco was also an option). Here’s what we found whenever Ichiro tried to steal second base against the best.

If you didn’t throw your hardest fastball or pitch out, you weren’t likely to catch Ichiro. Now, a 57% steal success rate seems pretty pedestrian. Ichiro’s career steal success rate was 81%, including a whopping 85% of his attempts of third base. However, keep in mind that all of this data involves the fastest, most accurate catchers arm in the game.

Imagine if I’d used Mike Piazza.

Let’s not forget about bunting, either

The MVP Baseball drag bunt animation was quick and came out of nowhere, so there really wasn’t any tip-off to what the speedster was up to. When you give that quick of an animation to a player with a bunting rating of 99 and a speed rating of 97, you’re going to see some serious shit. Just look at this.

When you pair Ichiro’s speed with his insane hitting power, he could make some incredible plays. He could bunt for a hit and get down the line so fast that the defender wouldn’t even bother making the throw. They just gave up.

Let’s talk defense.

When you have all that speed, that’s one thing. When you have speed and an arm chiseled personally by God, there’s nothing that can stop you. On April 11th, 2001, Ichiro threw a perfect strike from right field to put the entire league on notice.

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Anyone who has seen this clip should know better than to challenge Ichiro, but for some reason people kept testing this man.

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Here are Ichiro’s fielding stats.

Remember when I said the Polo Grounds center field fence was 483 feet away from home plate? Here’s Ichiro throwing to home from that exact spot like it’s no big deal.

I think this speaks for itself.

Now, I had the idea to make a team full of Ichiros and see how far I could take them. (The first initials are there because the game forced me to enter a first name, and I wanted to tell them apart for statistical purposes.)

This leaves one unanswered question.

What about pitching?

Can Ichiro pitch? He was a pitcher in high school, but what about the professional level? The answer is yes! Luckily I had two frames of reference.

There is the time he pitched in 2015.

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And the time he pitched in the 1996 Japanese All-Star Game.

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Ichiro mainly sticks with the simple fastball-changeup combination, but the occasional breaking ball shows up.

So we have a three-pitch arsenal that we’re going to have to stick with for 162+ games. While it’s serviceable, I’m not expecting any Barry Zito-level performances.

Are we ready? I’m ready. Let’s do this.

Dynasty Time!

These are our team goals. I think we’re going to win more than 2 Silver Slugger awards and score the most runs in baseball.

April 2005: 16-8 (first in A.L. West)

After one month of play, the Seattle Ichiros are 16-8. In 24 games, three Ichiro clones are hitting .400 or higher, and seven are batting over .300.

SEVEN OF THE TOP 11 players in the stolen base category are Ichiros. Another Ichiro is leading the team with six wins and two saves already. He’s also 7th in the league in strikeouts. WHAT.

The team has combined for 72 stolen bases and has been caught stealing only 6 times. GOOD LORD. As expected, the pitching staff is marginally mediocre.

For this team however, that’s more than good enough.

May: 19-8 (35-16 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

For some reason, the Seattle Ichiros have regressed into the 29th-best pitching team in the league, but thanks to incredible hitting and fielding, we are tied for the best record in baseball. Nine Ichiros are in the top 10 for stolen bases. Everything is going well, except for R. Ichiro. We also had a trade offer for Ray Durham. Do we make a deal?

Hell no. We’re the Seattle Ichiros. All or nothing.

June: 17-9 (52-25 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

The Seattle Ichiros have the best record in baseball at 52-25. Seven Ichiros are hitting over .300, and eight have over 20 stolen bases. The only other players in the league with more than 20 are Carl Crawford and Bobby Abreu.

The pitching has not produced a single shutout win the entire season so far, but it looks like what’s working is working. Score a lot of runs, tank pitching, win, repeat. My manager grade is also an A- which is weird because I’m not even watching the games. Maybe I should watch a game.

*The Ichiros won 11-5*

This is a baseball game unlike any I’ve seen before. I’ve never seen such aggressive baserunning spread all throughout the roster. The Ichiros stole 6 bases and never got caught. It’s like watching all the racers in Mario Kart with endless speed mushrooms. I wish real baseball was like this. Watching this team field is similar to watching superheroes do pedestrian tasks with their powers like it’s no big deal.

This is definitely a championship team. Can the Ichiros really bring Seattle their first World Series title ever?

July: 15-11 (67-36 for the season, second in the A.L. West and 1st in the Wild Card race)

So. Apparently the Angels are really freakin’ good. See what happens when you have good pitching? Wow.

Even still, the Ichiro collective is doing their best to rectify this with some solid hitting. By the way, nine Ichiros made the All-Star Team, which if I had to guess would be the first time that’s ever happened? Nine All-Stars and they’re not even leading the division. Incredible.

Meanwhile, don’t look now but Jon Dowd is going for a Triple Crown.

August: 17-11 (85-47 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

Jesus Christ, what happened to the Angels?

Even though the Ichiros didn’t have a weird surge, the Angels seem to be going through it. Seattle has opened up a seven-game lead on the Angels. Luckily, the Angels have a chance to make up ground in September, as they have six games against the Ichiros.

The Ichiros have scored 931 runs this season; the next closest team has 767. That’s wild. They also have six players with at least 15 home runs or more, which is of note because Ichiro’s season high in the real world is 15 home runs.

We have 30 games left.

(I’m very impressed with the fact that none of the Ichiros have sustained an injury yet. I’m lying I turned injuries off.)

September-October: 16-12 (102-60 for the season, first in the A.L. West)

Thanks to four head-to-head wins over the Angels, the Ichiros were able to clinch the division and finish with 102 wins and 1,135 runs scored — 4th-most in baseball history, and most since 1894. Did they win the most games this season? Nope, the Boston Red Sox netted 106 Ws thanks to a solid lineup and *cough* good pitching *cough*

Despite being walked 139 times. Jon Dowd hit for the Triple Crown. Thanks for putting a potential hole in my argument, EA.

One of the Ichiro clones finished with a whopping 70 stolen bases. The team as a whole combined for 452 stolen bases while being caught 101 times. That’s a whopping 82% success rate as a TEAM. These were the next teams that came close.

Two Ichiros had more 200 hits while everyone in the starting lineup hit more than 170. We also achieved two of the five team goals. The two realistic goals!

ONE OF THEM ALSO WON AMERICAN LEAGUE MVP!

PLAYOFFS, BABY! My only rule going into this is that all the elimination games will be a live gameplay sim.

ALDS: Ichiros vs. Yankees

Off-screen computer simulations:

Game 1: Yankees 13, Ichiros 11

Game 2: Yankees 14, Ichiros 11

On-screen simulations:

Game 3: Ichiros 14, Yankees 5

Game 4: Ichiros 12, Yankees 3

Game 5: Ichiros 11, Yankees 3

So, something of importance that I should note: there are two types of simulations in this game. There is the quick sim that doesn’t show any gameplay, and then there is the longer simulation that showcases gameplay. Now, the quick sim was for most of the regular season and held true to the ratings and what each player would theoretically do. However, the gameplay sims showcase a different element of all of these things. You get to see just how much chaos this team can cause. I also think this sim does a better job of highlighting just how many runs a team full of Ichiros can score on offense and prevent on defense. This is the main difference between the two types of simulations.

ALDS: Ichiros vs. Red Sox

This is going to be the toughest challenge yet for the Ichiros. Not only will they have to face the best-pitching team in the league, they also have to go up against some fearsome left-handed hitters. Since all the Ichiros throw right-handed, there is no way to neutralize David Ortiz, Johnny Damon or Trot Nixon.

Game 1: Ichiros 12, Red Sox 6

The Ichiros went to town on Curt Schilling in spurts and it got so bad that Bronson Arroyo had to relieve him in the 3rd inning. You hate to see it.

Game 2: Ichiros 18, Red Sox 2

Going up against David Wells was easy pickings for the Ichiros, who absolutely destroy left-handed pitching. The dimensions of Fenway are also advantageous to the Ichiros. Normal flyouts in other parks turn into off the wall doubles/triples.

David Wells only lasted 5 outs. These Ichiros do a great job getting out on these hot starts and then jumping all over the relief pitching. It’s a magical strategy.

Game 3: Ichiros 6, Red Sox 5

After the Sox take a 5-0 lead by the 3rd inning, the Ichiros face their first test of adversity in the series, but answer back with three runs in the 3rd and three more in the 6th. The Ichiros leaned on their mediocre pitching and great defense to move one win away from the World Series.

Game 4: Ichiros 13, Red Sox 8

After scoring EIGHT runs in the third inning, the Red Sox give up 13 unanswered runs thanks to Ichiro, Ichiro and Ichiro. The Ichiros hit three home runs and six triples to keep putting pressure on the Red Sox pitching staff. Honestly, if Boston hadn’t won the World Series in 2004, I would think this was some part of a curse or something.

This was an unreal fight from the Ichiros. It’s a shame we never got to see them face off against knuckleball god Tim Wakefield. But now the Ichiros are heading to the World Series to face off against. Jon Dowd and the Giants. THIS IS OCTOBER!

World Series: Ichiros vs. Giants

Here we go. A team full of Ichiros vs. Jon Dowd and friends. Statistically speaking, the Yankees and Red Sox were both better opponents, but the Giants are still ranked higher than the Mariners because of our team’s lack of pitching. However, the Giants are one of the slowest teams in the league. It’ll be interesting to see how this dynamic plays out.

Game 1: Ichiros 6, Giants 2

Jon Dowd went 0-4. YOU LOVE TO SEE IT.

Game 2: Ichiros 17, Giants 6

A Jon Dowd grand slam couldn’t stop the Ichiro task force, which hit 5 home runs.

Game 3: Ichiros 12, Giants 1

A Jon Dowd solo home run was nowhere close to enough to stop the flurry. I never thought I would say this, but get Jon Dowd some help!

Game 4: Ichiros 9, Giants 3

GO CRAZY SEATTLE! THE ICHIRO CLONES HAVE TAKEN HOME THE WORLD SERIES TITLE!

ABSOLUTE PLAYOFF DOMINATION!

Offseason

Because we won the World Series, I have been rewarded with a team budget increase of 3.6 million dollars. However, since I put every create-a-player on a one-year contract, nearly the entire team is asking for a new deal.

I really didn’t think this through. Let’s see if I can re-sign them all.

DYNASTY TIME BABY! We made it to spring training with all of the Ichiros intact. On that note, we will end our simulation. We’ve had a hell of a run, but now it’s time to conclude and debrief.

Conclusion

When we used the non-gameplay simulation, the game stayed true to the stats that Ichiro was capable of producing. Those stats added up and allowed us to win dependently. Now, the hitting side sounds believable to a sense. When you duplicate someone that possessed a league-leading .372 batting average, you’re in for a lot of baserunners and scoring opportunities.

The shakiest part of the non-gameplay simulation has to be the pitching. A team of Ichiros giving up only five runs a game doesn’t sound that believable to me, especially when other teams full of actual pitchers in the game gave up more runs. It’s hard to tell whether the defensive prowess of the Ichiros was accounted for in these simulations.

The gameplay simulations were a different story, however, as you can see just how dominant the Ichiro squad was on offense and defense. On offense, the Ichiros barely struck out and every single ball put in play looked like it could be a hit. The Ichiros preyed on slow outfielders like Jon Dowd and middle-tier arms like Johnny Damon. Using these two advantages, the Ichiro squad could turn doubles into triples whenever they wanted. Every time an Ichiro walked, a steal seemed imminent and there was little you could do to stop it.

Now, watching Ichiro pitch in real-time made me nervous, but he does just enough to mitigate the damage. When the pitchers were in a jam, they would often get bailed out by the amazing speed and glove of an Ichiro. It’s nice to have someone with 10 career gold gloves at every position on the field.

The gameplay sims took everything that Ichiro was good at on paper and amplified them to a point where they looked absolutely unbeatable. When they faced elimination against the Yankees, I switched gameplay simulations to “document the end” but I realized that these sims make the Ichiros seem like gods. I do wish that I had done gameplay simulations of the entire playoffs so that those two Yankees losses wouldn’t be there, but at least I switched over before it was too late.

If I had done real gameplay simulations for all 162 games in the regular season, I think that the Ichiros could have won 140+ games easily. There was no way I was going to do that because that would be way too much time put into this project. I barely watch real baseball right now, you think I was going to watch weeks of virtual baseball? Hell no.

The regular season simulation allowed us to make the playoffs and that’s all that mattered to me at the end of the day. The chance to have a chance.

Ichiro is one of the greatest players in baseball history, but he’s overshadowed by most video games he’s featured in. In MVP Baseball there’s Jon Dowd, in Backyard Baseball there’s Pablo Sanchez and Pete Wheeler. In The Bigs, it was basically every power hitter in the game.

He never was a cover athlete for MVP Baseball, Triple Play Baseball, MLB 2K, The Bigs, or MLB: The Show. He never got the recognition he deserved for being OP in multiple video games. So the next time you hear MVP Baseball 2005 and someone mentioning Jon Dowd, bring up Ichiro. Bring up this article that I spent way too much on to show a video game legend the respect he deserves.

Finally, as a reward for making it through this article, here is a wholesome picture of Ichiro smiling.

Getty Images

You’re welcome.

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