#and the truck he picked was a fucking dodge. like really. just insult to injury at that point

[demoness-one]

theyre called "Dodge" bc when you decide not to buy one youve dodged a fucking bullet

#still think of my stupid ex who dropped 40k on a truck while he was flat broke just to stroke his ego #and the truck he picked was a fucking dodge. like really. just insult to injury at that point #cracked the windshield like 2 weeks after he got it and couldnt even afford the deductible from insurance to get it fixed #like bro do you think thats maybe a sign youre a raging idiot. he was permanently broke im not like making fun of being on hard times #im kind of drunk i tried some new vodka thing its good ill have to get more. i love tags i can say anything and nobody has to see it rly #should sleep now <33 #and fuck that guy im so much happier without him. last month made 1 yr since i cut him out of mylife and i dont miss him or his stupid truc #or his piss poor money management skills while having (at the time) paid-for cars and no rent and journeyman wages $20-25/h #always borrowign money and never paid it back. lucky i only stopped speaking to him and didnt take it out of his truck nova scotia style #its what he would have done. cunt. bedtime for real now maybe ill remember to delete all this in the morning ily all

[master-sass-blast]

If Murphy Exists, I’m Gonna Punch Him in His F*cking Balls (Happy Anniversary, Darling).

THREE HOURS OF SLEEP

FUCK MY LIFE

(if it wasn’t clear, i’m editing this on no sleep. so if it sucks, that’s why.)

Summary: You and Colossus are trying to look forward to and celebrate your one year anniversary, but Murphy and his law have other ideas for you.

Rating: T for language, extremely brief and vague allusions to gun shot wounds, and mentions of the menstrual cycle.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

If there’s anything you’ve learned about your life, it’s that if anything can go wrong, it will.

What can you say? Murphy really just loves fucking you right up the ass, dammit.

It’s the week before your one year anniversary of dating Piotr. You should be excited. You should be planning just exactly how you’re going to celebrate the milestone --and stocking up on condoms and lube for the “after-party.” You should be counting down every hour to the fateful day with breathless anticipation and sharing knowing looks and smiles with the love of your life.

What you should not be doing, however, is dodging bullets.

You grit your teeth as gunfire cracks all around you and tuck yourself against the back of a metal shipping container with Ellie and Yukio. “Wade! How much fucking longer!”

“It’d be faster, but Silver Balls is taking his sweet ass time sauntering towards the shooters! Hurry it the fuck up, you chrome dildo!”

“Language, both of you,” Piotr says over the comm system. “I can only move so fast in my armor.”

“Piotr, honey, I love you, but get a move on!”

The sound of Nathan’s gun going off blares through your ear piece, and then the sound of metal screeching and people screaming is audible through the tiny speaker and somewhere past the shipping container you’re crouching behind.

“There,” Nathan growls. “Shooters are down.”

You dart out from behind the container and towards the base the Brotherhood of Mutants had been working out of. “Finally!” 

Right as Piotr starts lecturing Nathan about not killing people, a mutant with gold energy glowing around his hands jumps out right in front of you.

You shriek and launch an air current right at him --sending into a tree and turning him into mutant Jello. You stare at the remains, wincing and sucking air through your teeth. “Oh shit! Too hard!”

You boyfriend takes a moment to pat your shoulder reassuringly before chucking a pickup truck at a cluster of Brotherhood members. “It happens. Try to stay focused.”

The fight ends with a middle finger to your imminent celebration.

You get shot in the shoulder and wind up in the clinic.

You blink owlishly at Piotr as he walks into your room at the clinic, armored down and only a little scraped up. “Hi... hi... babe...”

“Privet, myshka.” He sits in the chair next to yours and takes your hand in his. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he kisses your knuckles.

“A lil’ fuzzy. Hank said he was able to ‘generate mos’ of the ‘njury.”

“Da. You’ll be down for a day or two until he finishes regeneration, and then you’ll be sore for a week or so but nothing too bad.”

“Technology. Fuckin’ awesome.”

He chuckles and kisses the back of your hand. “That it is.”

So, as if literally getting shot wasn’t bad enough, Scott puts you on shit detail for the next few days for killing someone and ‘breaking the rules.’

Add injury to insult, Piotr flies out the same damn day you’re released from the clinic to go on a mission with Wolverine’s team to finish tracking down the members of the Brotherhood that managed to escape while you were attacking the bunker.

You fume next to Nathan while you work on cleaning up one of the locker rooms. You scrub at a sink basin furiously, imagining that Scott’s face is there instead of the porcelain bowl and is taking the full brunt of your efforts. 

“Jesus, take it easy. You’re gonna fuck up your shoulder again.” Nathan takes the brush from your hands and jerks his head at one of the benches. “Sit down. Rest for a minute.”

“Sure, dad.” You sit down anyway, wincing as you stretch your shoulder. “I don’t get why they punish people for killing. It just... it doesn’t make sense. I can’t explain it.”

“For people who don’t have Wade’s tendencies, it doesn’t,” Nathan agrees as he takes over cleaning up the sink. “What I don’t get is why Scott has you on cleaning duty right after discharge from the clinic. Pete’s gonna kill him.”

“Eh, he’s just like that,” you say as you rub your sore shoulder. “He hates me.”

Nathan shakes his head. “Never thought he’d be like this.”

You look up. “He’s your dad, right?”

“Yeah. Don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” You stretch your arm and shoulder, going through the physical therapy motions you’d been given before you’d left the clinic.

The week is just sucking. You’ve been shot, put on unfair shit detail, and Piotr’s not even here to comfort you through it. Fuck, you can’t even plan an anniversary date without him here! You don’t have a license; you can’t pick up supplies and you don’t want to make reservations when you don’t even know when he’ll be getting back or what kind of shape he’ll be in.

Nathan glances over his shoulder at you when you sigh. “What’s got you down?”

You feign shock and press your hand against your chest. “The famed Nathan Summers, voluntarily talking about emotions? Did his time travelling alter reality beyond his repair? Are you having a stroke? Quick, do you know where you are--”

He chuckles, shakes his head, and goes back to scrubbing the sink. “Meter’s running, kid. If you wanna talk, do it fast.”

You let out a huff and hunch over, glaring down at the --spotless--tile floor like it had personally wronged you. “Oh, it’s just that Piotr and I have our one year anniversary this weekend and everything’s going wrong. Shitty mission, accidentally got shot, Scott put me on shit detail for no fucking good reason, Piotr’s gone so we can’t plan anything, I don’t have a license or a bank account so I can’t get supplies...”

Nathan turns, leans against the sink, and crosses his arms over his chest when your voice trails off. “You do realize that Pete’s gonna be happy to just spend time with you, right? He’s not an high maintenance guy.”

“Okay, yeah, but I never thought I’d get to have something happy and romantic like a one year anniversary. I want something special --not that Piotr’s not great on his own, because I’d be totally happy just to spend the day with him too, but--”

“I get it,” Nathan interjects. “In my time, I never thought I’d live long enough to have a family. As soon as I found Aliya, I latched on to her as much as she’d let me and didn’t let go.”

“And now you’re here.”

He shrugs. “I have Wade. The team. You. Besides, since Russel’s never gonna kill Aliya and Hope, I’m never going to make the decision to go back in time to save them. Yeah, I could go back, but there’ll be another me there, and... well, I can do more good here. Try to give my wife and kid a future with the other version of me.”

You blink slowly. “Man, you really face-fucked reality, didn’t you?”

He snorts. “Something like that.” He cocks his head to the side and studies you. “Have you and Pete had sex yet?”

“Okay, I am not talking about my sex life with you in a fucking locker room--”

“I’m just saying, you could spend the day doing that. Take it from someone who’s been married, sex on anniversaries is a pretty common thing.”

And, awkwardness aside, it’s not such a horrible idea. The idea of spending the evening --or even the day--in bed with your boyfriend sits really well with you.

You smile to yourself as Nate goes back to scrubbing the sinks. Maybe this won’t be such a loss after all.

Except it is.

After a night of fitful sleep, you wake up to an all too familiar red stain in your pajama pants.

If there was a god you believed in, you’d be flipping them off right now.

Piotr comes back during the late evening, while you’re curled up in your bed with a heating pad over your sore abdomen.

You give him a mournful look when he opens your bedroom door. “My period started this morning.”

He tuts gently and sits down next to you on the bed. “I’m so sorry, myshka. Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, ‘cept maybe some chocolate.”

He kisses your forehead gently. “I may have solution for that. I was thinking, if you feel up to it, we could go where we had first date tomorrow. Good celebration for anniversary, da?”

And that, in spite of the gloriously shitty week you’ve had, makes you beam. “Yeah. I like the sound of that. Can we go to the chocolate shop and get some strawberries?”

“Konechno. As many as you want.”

You wake up in Piotr’s arms --and to a world of rain and thunder.

The sky is oppressively black, save for a few bursts of lightening, and rain is coming down in sheets. You can barely see the massive elm trees that sit towards the front of Xavier’s property, to say nothing of the roads out front.

“Tornado watch,” Piotr reads off his phone after you shake him awake. “Severe thunderstorms. Risk of flooding. No driving unless absolutely necessary.”

You break down crying at the news. Between the extra emotions from your period and the disaster of a week you’ve had, you can’t help it. You flop face first onto your bed --a little over dramatic, admittedly, but you’ve earned it as far as you’re concerned--and sob into the blanket.

Piotr peels you off the blanket and pulls you into his arms. He looks shocked as he wipes tears off your cheeks. “Moya lyubov’, why are you so upset? It is just rain. We can always go another day--”

“No!” You wail. “I’ve had a shit week, and I was looking forward to this, and now it’s all ruined!”

“It is not ruined, myshka.”

“It is! First we have to go on a mission, and then I killed someone before getting shot!”

It all comes bubbling out between sniffs and sobs --the constant soreness of your shoulder, how Scott had put you on ‘penance’ as soon as you’d be discharged, how your period had hit and ruined the idea of even spending an evening together, how you didn’t even have a license which meant you couldn’t go get supplies, and how Piotr hadn’t been there to plan anything...

Eventually, Piotr just pulls you into a gentle hug while you vent about your week. “I am so sorry you have had such a terrible week, dorogaya moya. I will talk to Scott and Professor Xavier about your ‘penance.’ And try not to fret, korosho? Perhaps we cannot celebrate on exact date, but it is not end of world.”

“I know!” Your breath hitches as you wipe your face dry with your shirt. “But I never thought I’d have anything like this. I wanna celebrate it.”

“I never thought I’d have you, either.”

“I appreciate that, babe, I really do, but that’s not what I meant. I grew up hearing that I was unlovable every day.” Your throat constricts as sentimentality threatens to make you cry again. “My parents constantly told me what an abomination I was and that no one would ever want me. And here you are--” you stop for a minute to try and breathe through the sobs that are shaking you “--loving me like I deserve it, and fuck I want to celebrate that but this week keeps going so fucking wrong--”

Piotr smooths your hair and kisses your forehead. “Tische, myshka. It is okay. I understand.” He smiles softly at you, thumb gently rubbing at your cheek and the dark bags under your eyes. “Why don’t you rest for little bit? I can go talk to Scott and the Professor.”

You sniffle and pout at him. “You’ll come back, right?”

“Konechno.” He nudges you back and kisses the top of your head before pulling the covers up over you. “Rest for now. I will be back soon.”

You wake up to the sound of your phone pinging.

LOML: Meet me in kitchen for breakfast? :)

You can’t help but smile. You pull on a sweatshirt --bras are overrated when you’re on your period or in general, really--and pad down to the kitchen.

The delectable scent of pancakes and bacon lures you in, and sure enough there’s Piotr putting a decent sized stack of chocolate chip pancakes on a plate for you.

“Babe!” you exclaim. “You didn’t have to!”

He shrugs, beaming and beyond pleased with himself. “Of course I did. You are my girl and you’re upset. Even if it wasn’t our anniversary, you still deserve to feel loved and be taken care of.”

Fuck, you’re gonna cry. You’ve had a shit week, and now the literal personification of sweetness is standing in the kitchen and fixing you a plate of pancakes while telling you he loves you.

It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster, and you’re on the verge of emotional whiplash.

You wrap your arms around Piotr’s waist and press your face against his side as you start weeping again. “Thank you.”

He sets the plate down, turns so your face is against his chest, and runs his hands up and down your back while he kisses the top of your head. “You’re welcome, lyublyu.” He shifts to the side, then picks up a box of strawberries and holds it up for you to see. “I found these in fridge. I thought we could try making our own.”

You let out a surprised laugh in between gasping cries. “You’re too good to me, Piotr. Fuck, I don’t even have anything for you--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs. “It can be dealt with later.”

You press your cheek against his chest and let out a shaky breath. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The strawberry making is blast. The two of you wind up burning a pan of chocolate before you can dip the damn things --in Piotr’s defense, that only happened because you’d distracted him--and you get more chocolate on yourselves than you do the actual berries.

Piotr winces as he starts down at his chocolate smudged fingers and forearms. “How did this even happen?”

“Hey, you took your chances when you decided to work with me.” You pat his arm sympathetically, leaving little chocolate smears wherever you touch. “Maybe you should go get cleaned up.”

He eyes the stains you’ve left and sighs. “Da. Before you decide to aim for my face.” He chuckles when you promptly swipe at his face and ducks out of his way. “I’ll be back in minute. Be good while I’m gone.”

“No promises!” You wait until he’s out of sight, then wipe your hands off on your pants before reaching for your phone.

Me: Do you know how to set up a projector?

Me: And lift heavy things?

Nathan: You do realize that projectors are woefully outdated in my time, right?

Me: Yeah, futuristic geriatric, I know.

Me: Can you do it or not?

Nathan: Yeah. Why?

You grin down at your phone screen. Piotr Rasputin, prepare to have your socks knocked off.

You glare down Nathan as you stand in front of the door to Piotr’s art studio. “I’m only saying this once. If you ever tell anyone --especially Wade--about this room, I’m going to unspeakable things to all of your guns.”

“It’s an art studio. I’ve seen it in yours and Pete’s minds. And if I haven’t told anyone at this point, I’m not going to at all.”

“Good.” You open the door and usher him in. “Okay, so here’s what I’ve got in mind...”

You and Nathan --carefully--move the furniture in Piotr’s art studio to carve out a decent sized space in the room to lay out and inflate the largest air mattress you could find in one of the many storage closets in the mansion.

You’re in the process of banking the mattress with heavy things so it won’t slide all over the place when the door starts to open. “Shit!” You dart over to the door and throw your weight against it to slam it shut. “Ow! My other shoulder!”

There’s a pause outside the door that could be described as fondly exasperated, and then Piotr’s deep voice rumbles. “Myshka... what are you doing?”

“Uh... nothing.”

“Right. And I can’t come in to my art studio because...”

“Uh... reasons. I’m trying to do something, but you can’t see it just yet.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing to my art studio?”

You sigh, then open the door and slip into the hall before shutting behind you. “It’s a surprise. For our anniversary. I wanted to do something nice to you.”

His expression is a mixture of genuinely touched and genuinely confused. “And you have to take over my art studio because...”

“It’s the best space for the task. Look, I swear I’m not destroying anything or disrupting the order to your space. Super promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He chuckles softly and kisses the top of your head. “Do you know when you will be done?”

“Uh... nope. You’re the planner, not me.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “You are handful, myshka. But, I suppose there are other things I can do while you do... whatever it is you are doing.”

You flash him a big grin. “Good. I’ll come get you when everything’s ready.”

The rest of your day is spent darting around the mansion, gathering everything you need. You swipe blankets and pillows from yours and Piotr’s room --and run smack into your boyfriend as soon as you step into the hall.

“Y/N.”

“You can’t see me.” You adjust your armload so it covers your face. “I’m completely hidden.” You dart down the hall before he can say anything else. “Love you, babe!”

His laughter follows you down the hall, and he calls “I love you, too,” after you.

You grin as you head towards the art studio. Tonight’s gonna be great.

You pile the air mattress with blankets and pillows until it’s warm, plush, and comfortable enough to fall asleep on. Once that’s done, you dart back to Piotr’s room and swipe his DVD case.

Nathan’s gone before you get back, but the projector is set up and angled at the blank white wall in the studio. You hook it up to your laptop --a birthday gift from Wade--and make sure you can work it before you go back to setting up the space.

You take a string of white Christmas lights --you don’t know why Wade had them stashed under his bed, and you don’t want to--and hang them over the window frame. Once they’re secured --you might’ve had to tape them down--you turn them on and admire the soft glow they bathe the room in before heading out to assemble the last step of your plan.

Halfway to the kitchen, you realize you’re soaked with sweat. You detour to your room, shower off, and change before heading back to your original destination.

You put together a decent dinner --sandwiches, chips, fruits and veggies, some of the strawberries you made earlier, a couple water bottles--and pack it away in a picnic basket you’d found in a storage close before you turn around and--

jump five feet into the air because Piotr had snuck up on you while you were working.

You press your hand over your racing heart. “Christ! You scared the shit out of me, babe!”

“So sorry, dorogoy. I hope you weren’t planning on carrying that.”

“With my good hand--”

“Nyet. I was happy to let you do everything else, but I draw line here.” He reaches past you and lifts the basket out of your reach. “Your shoulder is injured. You’re not carrying this.”

You relent with a sigh. “If you insist. Everything’s pretty much ready, anyway.”

He smiles, kisses the top of your head, and takes your hand in his. “Lead the way, myshka.”

You bounce up and down on the balls of your feet, waiting in nervous anticipation while you give Piotr a moment to process the drastic renovation of his art studio.

He stares at the rearranged space, gaping while he takes everything in. He blinks, clears his throat, and says “Please tell me you didn’t move all this yourself.”

“No. I had Nathan do it. And he used telekinesis, so everything should still be in order in the drawers. And --and I made sure that all your drawings and supplies were safe, but I wanted a spot that was a little more private than the rec room and a different venue that your room or my room--”

He cuts off your rambling with a gentle kiss. “This is... incredible.” He straightens and regards the room with a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe you thought of all this.”

“Well, I wanted to do something special for you. Because if I deserve it, you definitely do. You’re kind and generous and... just really wonderful, and I thought a picnic-slash-movie night would be nice since we’ve both had a long week. And, I mean, you deserve a nice night, and I felt bad that I didn’t have anything for you for our anniversary...”

He wipes a couple stray tears of joy away from his eyes and kisses you again. “Thank you. This is amazing. It’s perfect.”

You beam up at him, delighted and so in love. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #piotr rasputin imagine #colossus imagine #virtually no trigger warnings #just frustration that ends in fluff #celebrating anniversaries #in honor of the shit week i've had #i'm literally gonna punch murphy in the balls when I find him #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction