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stxrvel · 3 years

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cowboy like me

summary: a bad day for Bucky, a splendid week for the woman. mixed feelings and memories of a stormy past prevent Bucky from giving voice to his true feelings. (I'm really sorry I'm so bad at summary's)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2k or so.

warnings: poor bucky letting his feelings get the better of him and saying mean things from time to time, sorry bout that. oh, and I wrote this in the third person, I don't know if that's a warning but still. and last but not least, English is not my native language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes.

also, the title of this and the part of the song quoted below only inspired the setting of this one-shot. the "plot" is independent of the theme song. I just have a bunch of taylor's songs that inspires me scenarios like this with independent plots, it's like a hobby. and ALSO, this is my first fic in here, and I really hope to do more parts in the future, especially when this semester is over. so, I hope you like it!

you're a bandit like me eyes full of stars hustling for the good life

It had not rained like this for quite some time. Lightning echoed in every part of the city and the drops were crashing against the window glass with the speed of a Maserati on a winding road; the sky was dark even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon. Inside the room, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable, one of the reasons she stopped by at least five times a week. However, a few minutes before the downpour began, the whole atmosphere had turned so grey that for a moment it seemed as if the clouds were bringing a bad omen...

But no, it was only him.

The man who always sat next to her in the cafeteria to use one of the computers that the café provided as a service.

Besides the sound of the bell above the door and his soaked boots, it was his exasperated sigh that caught her attention before she looked away from her laptop screen.

His hair fell over his forehead with a few raindrops slipping from his forehead and temples, until they were lost under his jawline and mingling in the cotton of his shirt. The frown he kept on his face did not disappear as he tried, very unsuccessfully, to dry his clothes by shaking them slightly.

He would definitely do anything to keep that leather jacket and gloves on.

The smell of coffee and the hustle and bustle of the room contrasted with the calm but resignedly helpless attitude of the man who was running his hands heavily over his trousers as if they were a portable hairdryer.

Michael, one of the waiters who occasionally gave them ham and cheese croissants on Saturdays when they were both there, approached the sulking man and, seconds later, they both disappeared into the kitchen behind the till.

The screen of her mobile phone lit up as she tried to refocus on the reading she had to do.

Betty: I still don't understand how not wanting to visit your abusive dad in hospital is an important topic of conversation in a counselling session. I mean, the words abusive father say it all.

Tell me you're on my side.

Me: I still think you should change your psychologist.

Betty: I know! But at that clinic it's 30% cheaper than getting a private one. But, I already have a solution, next week I'll...

The squeak of the chair next to her being dragged startled her and her mobile phone almost flew out of her hands. The grumpy man, now a little drier, dropped the weight of his giant body on the poor chair so that it squeaked as if complaining about the man's rudeness. He stared at the computer screen on as if it held the solution to all his problems.

“Bad day?”

“Just an unfortunate string of inconveniences since I opened my eyes this morning,” he commented seriously and gravely as he began to move his hands over the keyboard. He hadn't looked at her when he spoke, which was not unusual, but at the moment it felt inappropriate, “Nothing I'm not used to.”

The woman turned her head to look at the twenty-seven pages she still had to read, and it seemed too tedious a thing to spend her time on now that Bucky had arrived.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I'm going to apply for a job at a daycare, maybe I could start practicing with you.”

Bucky faked a laugh, rather bitter and strained the kind she was used to hearing, “Very funny,” he said, his gaze dark and fixed on the screen.

“Sometimes you laugh at my jokes.”

“When they're funny,” he blurted out as soon as she finished speaking, instantly regretting it but not showing it in his body language.

“Hey! Don't hurt my feelings like that. What happened with your therapist? If you want to talk about it, sure.”

She watched his body tense and how he made no attempt to hide the bitter expression on his face as soon as the word "therapist" left her mouth. The woman thought she'd made a poor choice of words, yet Bucky felt unsettled by how strangely easily she seemed to be able to read his attitudes. Since when had she started doing such things? Had she always been that way? Had he let his guard down that much these past few weeks?

“Just... trouble, in general,” he pronounced her name with feigned gentleness, sending a shiver down her spine. Had he noticed by now? So soon? She thought, hastily.

“Okay,” she mumbled, trying to keep her composure as her mind worked at full speed, “I understand if you don't want to talk about it.”

No, he couldn't have noticed. Regardless of how damaged and broken she was inside, she knew that wasn't something Bucky paid the most detailed attention to. And, even if that were the case, there wasn't a person on the planet who knew her better than he did at this point, so if he wanted to walk away and leave her to not deal with her problems and constant chatter, he would have done so long ago.

Bucky sighed deeply, the movement of his chest aching from the lump in his throat. His hands moved on automatic over the keyboard, digging into things he already knew, spending the time just trying to divert the train of thought that wouldn't leave him alone. Anyway, is it really so bad for someone to know me like that? He thought, as the woman returned to her reading, it's not bad to be vulnerable once in a while, she's not going to hurt me. I know, I know.

Then why does it scare me so much?

His hands clasped as a third presence appeared between them. Michael, with a giant grin on his face, set two medium-sized cups of coffee on the small table they shared in front of the window. The woman's, with milk and sweetened with vanilla, as she always asked for. Bucky's, black, plain and cold, the way he always drank it.

The girl sitting next to him and the barista shared a couple of words in a conversation that seemed to be too funny, because she kept laughing. Why did he find her laughter annoying? Was it because it was too loud, or because it sounded too high-pitched unlike her normal laughter? When she laughed with Bucky, her tone was softer, gravelly, delicate and jovial. He couldn't describe the sensation that burned in his chest every time her eyes narrowed at her smile, or every time she brought her right hand to her chest, over her heart, as if she couldn't bear to laugh anymore, but at the same time holding back the pain in her cheeks so she wouldn't stop.

Michael didn't get that. No, he wasn't getting what Bucky was.

“Bucky?”

Her chuckling voice disconnected him from the bizarre conjectures in his mind, and he turned his eyes to her. She was looking at him with a rueful smile and her cheeks were too flushed.

“Are you all right?”

The aforementioned reveled in the sight that was plastered in front of him, with her sparkling eyes and the way her lips curved, before replying, “Yeah, all good.”

When he noticed Michael was still there, his shoulders tensed and quickly his gaze refocused on the sea of words displayed on the screen in front of him.

“You're too stiff,” he heard the woman's voice again a few seconds later, “Are you sure you don't want to do something to distract yourself? There are a lot of things coming to mind right now.”

Bucky turned to look at her with a frown.

“What things?”

“Um, last week you told me you've never played twenty questions before.”

The man arched an eyebrow, intrigued by how his mind played him, but quickly replied, “Do I look like the kind of person who plays the twenty questions?”

“Not really, but that day you told me you were willing to try it if I played it with you.”

Bucky was silent for a few seconds.

“I don't remember saying that.”

“Sometimes you don't remember a lot of things for convenience, Barnes,” she teased innocently, but Bucky knew what that meant: you're always evading me when I'm trying to help you.

And well, it was true.

“I imagine you don't remember Sam's invitation to you three days ago either.”

“What invitation?” he played distracted, as he pretended to vehemently read what he'd Googled.

“He asked you to join him to watch a game at the bar two blocks from your flat.”

Bucky hummed as he pretended to think about what he'd just heard, even though he remembered it perfectly. And he knew that earlier in the day he'd left it on hold, which was a clear and express no, but he hadn't said that to the woman who was now staring at him.

“I don't like football.”

The woman let out a snort of exasperation.

“This is why you have no friends, Bucky.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Bucky knew it was a joke. She'd said things like that to him before and it had never bothered him; he knew she didn't mean it in a derogatory way or to make fun of him. She would never do that. But subconsciously, he couldn't stop his mouth from blurting out the words he didn't want to say; words he would never have thought to say to her.

“I know you've had a bad day, Buck,” she spoke again after a few seconds, “But I just want to distract you.”

“I don't need your help, I can manage on my own.”

“Okay, let's just... change the subject, shall we?”

Bucky pursed his lips, but didn't dare connect their gazes.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay," she mused, and didn't speak again until a couple of seconds later, “How was your date?”

He gave a small smile before saying, “I'm sure you waited for a reasonable amount of time so you could satiate your curiosity.”

The woman let out a laugh, the kind that had the ability to calm Bucky's countenance for a few moments, before replying, “It's just that ever since I met you I didn't think I'd ever see you going on a real date.”

“And you probably won't again.”

“That's how bad it went?”

Bucky twisted his mouth, only remembering the image in the background of his neighbour's flat.

“It could have been worse.”

“Maybe we're just not cut out for dating.”

After a long moment, Bucky turned his head to watch her pursed lips. Her expression seemed downcast, but she pulled herself together quickly when she felt his gaze on her.

“What we've done or who we've been in the past, doesn't define what we can do or be now,” he reminded her of the words she always said to him when he felt he didn't deserve something good, and watched her nod at his words with a small smile, “Don't torment yourself thinking about it, neither of us had a choice.”

“I could tell you the same thing.”

Bucky smiled, sincerely, and for the first time since he had awoken that morning.

“I apply the philosophy you preach perfectly, I'm a great disciple.”

She elongated a sarcastic laugh that widened Bucky's grin. What was it about her that drew you in and bewitched you like that?

“In a trauma contest, you'd take first place, Barnes.”

“We'd be tied, you mean.”

The woman smiled at him, and between their looks, they both knew they were only hiding the truth behind the humour. Bucky didn't often do it, but since he'd met her, and considering that was something she often did -using humour to cover up the truth she'd rather not accept, or simply to hide the pain-, he'd gotten such a habit of doing it every so often that even his therapist was a little put out the first time he joked about one of his traumas in front of her. It was a very strange scenario that was never repeated.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier,” Bucky took the floor again, a little more relaxed than when he'd arrived soaking wet in the cafeteria, “It's just... I killed my neighbour's son.”

“No,” she replied quickly and firmly, as she did every time a similar topic came up in their conversations, “It was the Winter Soldier. It was a person they created to control and disenfranchise, that wasn't you. It wasn't the Bucky I know. I'm sorry to hear that, but... it wasn't your fault, I know that whatever they did for your mind was always rejected by your body, even if you couldn't control it.”

The man half-opened his lips, wanting to say something, wanting to give voice to the jumble of thoughts concurring in his mind, but nothing managed to come out other than incoherent babbling.

“I... I don't know how to tell him.”

“You really want to?”

Bucky nodded, looking into the woman's shining, understanding eyes as she brought one of her hands up to cradle the side of his face.

“Then you'll find a way. Don't push yourself.”

He rested his right hand on the hand the woman held on his cheek, and leaned his head slightly into her touch. Although the stress and tension did not disappear completely, it did give way to a relaxing and lively sense of calm and stillness. Bucky didn't know if she had done it on purpose or not, but her words, though few, brought back a harmonic undertone he hadn't allowed himself to return to in a long time.

Then you'll find a way.

Don't push yourself.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter solider #tfatws bucky #tfawts #fatws

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a-libra-writes · 3 years

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Salt & Snow - Chapter 6

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader (?)

Summary: Ned finally returns to his childhood home, to the happiness of his siblings and Y/N ... though she’s also beside herself with nerves. As it turns out, the two of them are awkward teenagers.

Use this chrome extension to replace “Y/N” with a different name :)

“That’s the last of it, milord.” The servant tightened the leather straps on the wooden trunk, ensuring they were secure. Once satisfied, he nodded to the guide that would be taking the young Lord Stark down the mountain. The man was withered, but he expertly steered his mules, or so they said. Ned hadn’t realized how many possessions he’d collected in his years in the Eyrie, and felt bad for making the beasts carry so much.

The old mountain guide said it was fine, and it wouldn’t unbalance them. “You worry about stayin’ on that mule, milord. When’s the last time you descended?”

He thought about it. “Four years, mayhaps more.”

“Aye, it’s much the same. It’s still spring, it will warm quickly as we go down.” The old man guided him to one of the mules, a shaggy, dark brown one with long ears. Ned thought it was cute in an ugly way, and climbed up. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring how the Eyrie hung above them. He remembered the first time he climbed up here, terrified he’d fall the entire way, and then afraid the Eyrie would somehow fall from the sky and plummet to the ground.

I’ll be the one doing the plummeting, if this beast missteps. Ned was mostly, probably confident that wouldn’t happen. He wondered what sort of mule they gave Robert, the beast of a man. He couldn’t imagine his friend sitting quietly for the better part of the day. That thought made him smile a little, and sigh. Robert left a month ago, and now it was his turn. It was a bittersweet goodbye to Robert and then to Lord Arryn. The first month I couldn’t stop thinking about Winterfell, how I wanted to go back. It hurts to leave now.

It hurt, but it was time to go. He wanted to see his family again, to see Winterfell, and the godswood, and Wintertown and the forest surrounding them. He’d smell pines and fresh earth again — gods know the Eyrie sorely lacked in both — and the animals that ran through those woods. He wondered what had changed, what was the same.

Suddenly, Ned recalled a letter where Y/N described the repairs on one of the towers, the old one that was slowly crumbling. That made him remember the last one he sent, and he covered his face with a groan.

“Doing well, milord?” The guide asked, looking back. “Don’t look down.”

Ned merely nodded, glad the guide and the other servants were too busy navigating to notice his stupid face. Why had he written that? Why did he send it? She must be think he was an utter fool. She hadn’t even sent anything back yet.

No, letters are slow to the Eyrie, and I’m leaving, besides — perhaps it was lost.

The thought of Lord Arryn receiving it and sending it back was mortifying, even if the man would never read it. For days Ned’s mind had been racing about Robert’s departure, his own journey, and the stupid words he wrote down. He’d repeated them so many times in his head, hoping he was misremembering.

He groaned and laid his head on the neck of the mule. It smelled awful, but he stayed there. Y/N must have thought him a complete fool, how would he face her once he came home? It would be a long, long journey.

What in the seven hells did he mean by that?

Y/N stared at the words, her eyes running over them, which was a pointless act. She’d memorized these lines in particular, able to recall them in spite of her attempts to keep busy. She hadn’t responded, because how could she? Anytime she sat down and began to dab her quill, the butterflies battered against her stomach. She’d set her quill on the page, watching the ink soak into the paper, but Y/N only managed a few sentences before fumbling, misspelling a word, dripping ink everywhere and just giving up. She’d thrown several pages into the fire already.

I’m being ridiculous, I’m overthinking. Aren’t I? Hasn’t he always said kind things to me? Why is this different?

A week ago, Y/N dug through her box of letters saved over the years, hoping to assure herself. That was a mistake. She read through things she’d forgotten, phrases she remembered, looked over the little drawings he attempted, and her butterflies became relentless. She had to put the letters away and spent the entire day flustered and distracted.

She rubbed at her face and sighed heavily. She put the letter out of sight, knowing it wouldn’t be out of mind for a while. She ought to stop procrastinating, to send something back already; it’d been almost three weeks. Or was it four? She’d been procrastinating with everything imaginable — long boring books, needlework, studying maps, playing music, even riding.

I have to answer eventually. I really am thinking too much. Just write something safe! Something boring!

Instead of doing that, Y/N left her room and looked for something to do. Perhaps if she could talk about her feelings it would help, but she couldn’t. Not even to Lyanna. Her friend had stopped reading the letters, preferring to send her own, and Y/N was sure they weren’t as frequent… That, and she couldn’t imagine letting anyone read what she wrote or drew now.

Is it strange, how often we write? Has anyone noticed? A little voice nagged at Y/N. She and Ned were well past the age of innocent friendly correspondence. She didn’t speak much about it, secretly worried she’d be told to stop. The idea of getting “caught” wasn’t pleasant, but the idea of stopping was worse. The correspondence had become a comfort, a way to raise her spirits, warmth and confidence in her heart. She understood how some would find that emotion improper.

A servant hurried past Y/N, nearly hitting her and knocking her right out of her thoughts. The boy called an apology and kept running. In the great hall, she saw half a dozen men moving boxes, and one of the elder servants giving them orders. Savory smells came from the kitchen, and peaking inside, Y/N saw the cooks and their girls busy chopping and stewing.

She tried to recall the last time Winterfell was this abuzz. The death of Lady Stark cast a dreary curtain over the castle, and while it was gradually lifting, a feast still felt out of place. Brandon was away again, but there was never a big to-do for his return.

“Found you!” Lyanna called to her, and Y/N jumped. It was absurd how much she’d been lost in her head as of late. She was glad Lyanna didn’t tease her; instead, the girl asked, “Why is everyone so restless today?”

“I was just thinking that. Did you see the kitchens? I can’t imagine why we’d need so much sausage and stew.”

“They’re making dessert, too! I’d ask my father, but I can’t find him anywere.” As they talked, Lyanna and Y/N walked outside to one of the many yards inside Winterfell’s walls. Just like inside, there was a flurry of activity, things being moved and cleaned. Lyanna said half the horses had been taken, perhaps on a hunt for fresh stag. A sudden thought struck her, and she turned on her heels to face Y/N, nearly knocking the girl over in the process. “Y/N, what if… what if my father finally decided—?”

“He didn’t,” Y/N replied instantly. “He would tell you, Lyanna. It won’t be a surprise. Maybe something happened and he’s gathering some bannermen on short notice; maybe it’s about Brandon’s wedding. He has been gone for the better part of a month.”

“That’s all true,” Lyanna said, although she didn’t sound comforted. “Perhaps Father is entertaining some ladies for him. Oh, gods, we’ll have to make smalltalk with them…”

They sat on one of the many carts strewn about the yard, following the activity. Predictably, Y/N’s mind wandered to Ned, and she kept her sigh from escaping. She glanced at Lyanna, half-listening to her friend chatter about a hedge knight that visited months ago. He showed off some jousting in the yard for their amusement, and Lyanna was still enamored. Y/N’s thoughts were wholly preoccupied with the terrifying idea of telling her about the letters, the ones that had gradually become far less proper and more personal.

Suddenly Lyanna asked, “Did you have any plans today?”

“I have a feeling if I did, you’d pull me away.” Y/N said. “Why?”

“Do you still have your old brown cloak?”

Those grey eyes were gleaming with some sort of mischief. Perhaps it was the restlessness of the people around them, or her own anxious thoughts… but rather than steer away from trouble, Y/N turned toward it.

There were small collections of cottages directly outside the walls of Winterfell, mostly farmers and butchers who directly served the castle, and offered board to travelers during the large feasts. But if someone really wanted to find something interesting, they’d go to Wintertown. These were the more prosperous smallfolk, the merchants, innkeeps, blacksmiths, and so on. There was even a small sept, although most Northern townspeople had little use for it. Y/N had come here only a dozen times; to go, she and Lyanna would need an escort, and Brandon wasn’t eager to follow two silly girls around.

As far as they were concerned, the matter of an escort was silly now that they were women. Lyanna had no fear as she put on an old cotton dress and her grey cloak, while Y/N wore her brown and black dress she saved for riding and a deep blue cloak. Y/N tucked her pearl and jewelry away, and Lyanna pulled her own dark brown hair out of its braid until it was all around her shoulders, wild and free. The girls snuck quietly out into the yard, avoiding servants and guards, then drew their hoods up once they reached the gates. They waited, then Y/N pointed. Three sworn guards were distracted with a complaining merchant, and they slipped past the gate.

Once outside, they kept their hoods up, but giggled to one another. After walking a mile, they came across a farmer on the way to Wintertown, and asked if they could ride in his cart. The old man squinted at them, trying to focus his gaze.

“Are ye girls the swineherder’s daughters? Jeyne and … Milly, was it?”

“That’s our names. Can you take us to town?” Lyanna asked, putting on a false voice. When the old man agreed, she grinned so broadly, Y/N had to nudge her and give her a warning look. They hopped into the back of the cart and chatted while it swayed and hobbled along. The last time, it was an hour of walking before a cart passed by.

It’s good to see her like this, happy again. Y/N thought, glancing to her friend as Lyanna chatted. It’s been a dreary six moons. Or has it been longer?

Lyanna hadn’t been herself the whole time. Since her mother died, everything was bleaker. For the first moon, she just wanted to stay inside. After that she’d go out riding for hours at a time, and for once, Lord Stark didn’t scold her for it. Sometimes she’d rage, pick fights with Brandon or a guardman’s boy. Sometimes she’d just stay in bed. Those days were always the bad ones, Y/N knew, and she’d stay with her, writing or drawing or doing needlework while Lyanna laid there.

They’d get far worse than a scolding if they were caught at this game, but she just wanted Lyanna to be happy again. Wintertown was in sight, and they thanked the old man and hopped off his cart, too excited to wait for his mules to take them any farther. Y/N took Lyanna’s arm so they’d at least stay together, and they were off.

Just like the last time they visited, the town was buzzing. Thoughts of Ned’s words and Lyanna’s sadness quickly faded in the back of Y/N’s mind as they followed whatever interested them. A girl half their height was herding a group of sheep through the middle of a wide street, a woman was selling bolts of impossibly colorful fabric and thread, a blacksmith was loudly working on a sword. The girls watched all of it.

“Wait!” Y/N patted Lyanna’s arm excitedly, distracting her from the molten-hot red sword and the hammer that was beating down on it. “Do you see that?” She pointed.

Lyanna squinted. “That stall over there?”

“Yes, let’s hurry! Maybe he still has some!”

“What are you talking about?” Lyanna laughed, but followed along. She quickly realized why Y/N was so excited: There was a variety of colorful, fresh vegetables, but more importantly… fruit.

“You buying?” The man asked warily, mistaking them for the lowborn girls they were dressed as. Back in their bedchamber, Y/N had to remind Lyanna to tuck away her direwolf pin. “I’m selling, not giving. You girls got coin?”

Y/N ignored his tone and asked, “Are these from White Harbor? My father worked the docks.”

“That so? He on one of the merman’s ships, or the ray’s?”

“The manta ray, at the Whitetide docks.”

The man grinned, showing some missing teeth. He nodded his head like he was familiar with this mystery sailor. “Aye, with Lord Caspian’s fleet? His ships are good ones. These fruit come all the way from Dorne and the Arbor, but they’re still fresh.”

Y/N could see that. Her heart was racing at the sight of peaches, oranges, limes, figs… of course, Lyanna’s eyes went straight to the lemons. She giggled and shook her head. “They’re better when they’re baked in cakes. Have you had an orange before?”

“Never. Let’s get some. Four, if we could?” Lyanna asked the man, and he handed them over. Four was all he had, and Y/N paid, feeling a little sorry for taking so many. She wondered if the common folk could afford fruits. This cold preserved them well.

They walked around the market idly, more interested in the treats they just acquired. Y/N taught Lyanna how to peel the orange and the wolf-girl was delighted with how sweet and juicy they were. “This is wonderful! Why aren’t we baking these into cakes?”

“I suppose someone tried, and it didn’t work out well,” Y/N mused. “My mother liked to squeeze them into her water, or she’d just drink the juice itself. When you preserve the peels and dry them, you can scatter them amongst your things to make them smell good.” She thought about her mother’s hugs, and her favorite parlor, and the strong smell of citrus and exotic flowers that permeated both. She was a Northern woman, but took to the wonders of Dorne and Essos and the Reach, little treasures brought in on her husband’s ships. It was how her father courted her: With baskets of fruit, tropical flowers, strings of pearls and giant conch shells. Y/N smiled, remembering how her mother lit up when she told her about it.

“I can promise you, my little pearl, one day you will have such kindnesses paid by someone who truly adores you.”

“You know so many things. All I know is passable dancing, and horses.” Lyanna said, breaking Y/N’s reverie, of which she was grateful for. The Stark girl rubbed at her chin where some juices at dribbled, and Y/N handed her a handkerchief.

“You know swords and lances well.”

“Aye, but I’m not allowed to use them.” Lyanna frowned, but it didn’t look like her mood was lowering. She eagerly bit into a second orange instead. Y/N sighed and put the handkerchief back into her reticule.

“Can I have the peels?” She asked.

“Are you going to put them into my riding boots?”

“Gods, I’d need a bushel to mask that scent.”

Lyanna didn’t want to throw her precious orange, so she settled for lunging and chasing Y/N instead. Y/N shrieked and ran, glad for the headstart: Lyanna had to chew and swallow her orange pieces properly before tearing after her. Lyanna’s old dress was short enough that she didn’t have to pull up the skirts, but Y/N had the lighter cloak. She shrieked again as Lyanna grasped for it, but missed. “I’ll get you for that!” The girl hollered. “Come back, Y/N!”

They laughed and chased each other around the town like children, and no one cared. Some older women noticed and scowled, and a few children laughed and followed for a while, but no one stopped them. No one grabbed their ears and admonished them for the messy hair, dirty clothes and sticky orange-flavored fingers. They were little girls again, not proper ladies of five and ten, daughters of Stark and Caspian.

Y/N stopped suddenly, then yelped as Lyanna tackled her to the ground. She squirmed and coughed. “Lyanna! You’ll kill me!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t finish!” Lyanna responded. She realized Y/N was still winded and moved off her. “Oh, are you hurt?”

“No,” Y/N sat up and blinked the dust out of her eyes. Satisfied, Lyanna flicked an orange peel at her. Y/N picked it off her lap and ate it. Lyanna made a face, like Y/N just ate the peel of a lemon — then she remembered she saw her friend do that, too.

“Do you hear that?” Y/N asked. It was the entire reason she stopped. Both girls kept still and listened. They were on the edge of Wintertown, their game taking them to the very end of it. Out here was a few modest homes and small gardens, a crumbling wall, and the road leading to Winterfell.

“Horses,” Lyanna said. She listened. “Several of them, moving at once. It’s probably a retinue.”

“Is it Brandon? I can’t recall when he was supposed to come home.”

“It would be bad for Brandon to find us like this and tell father,” Lyanna said, but she laughed. She was like her old self today. Suddenly, she said, “Oh. We should have saved an orange for Ben.”

“But not Brandon?”

“His Lordliness can get fruit whenever he wants. He can ride to the Reach and pick it himself.” Lyanna scoffed. She stood up, pulled Y/N to her feet and they both dusted their dresses and cloaks off. The horses were closer now, easy to hear without them staying quiet. It had to be Brandon, or a nearby lord. It was too much commotion for farmers bringing food.

The girls walked to the crumbling wall and crouched down, eager to peek at the banners. They weren’t foolish enough to openly stare, even if this was Wintertown, they weren’t entirely safe. Y/N had a vague thought that Lyanna might have a dagger in her boot, but that wasn’t real protection. She kicked herself for not bringing something of her own, even if she had no idea how to use it.

“They’re taking their time,” Lyanna muttered. “Has to be a lord. A lordling wouldn’t bring so many wagons, and a merchant wouldn’t be so slow. If it is Brandon, let’s throw rocks.”

“Let’s not.”

“Fine, a single rock. I won’t hit his horse, she deserves better. It could always be Ser Roderick, or the Pooles. Maybe even Cerwyn —”

Y/N pulled her back, lower against the stone wall. “Shh.”

Two horses passed, carrying modestly protected Northern guards. Then four more guards followed, dressed in different leather and armor. Y/N squinted, not recognizing the arms on their surcoats. It wasn’t anyone sworn to House Stark. Then, what they wanted: The banners.

One man held a direwolf, and another one held a blue falcon. Lyanna shot up, and Y/N stumbled, as she was still holding onto her.

Then she looked up, and jumped to her feet just as Lyanna had. They both stared.

It was Brandon, as they guessed, and someone else. They rode ahead, followed by a few more men, one of them a fully-armored knight who wore the crest of a sky-blue and white falcon.

“Ned!!”

Lyanna was gone. She tore across a small field to the road, and the guards stopped all at once, their hands flying to their hips. That action snapped Y/N to attention, but she could only stand and stare. She watched the boy — no, young man — beside Brandon turn in his saddle, and his grey eyes lit up with surprise and happiness.

Y/N thought someone was sitting on her chest, then something was trying to get out of it. She was choked up, the world was spinning, and she could barely hear the words Lyanna, Ned and Brandon were all saying. Lyanna nearly jumped up on the horse, but Ned swiftly dismounted. He only had a moment before he was being strangled in a hug.

Brandon got down from his horse and said something to the guards. The horses shook their heads at the commotion but Lyanna shouted again, and two of the knights laughed, and Y/N was still.

Then Ned looked up over his sister’s head, and met eyes with her. Y/N took a step forward, then another. She forgot she was wearing an old dress, a cloak that was now dirty from running about, that her hair was out of a normally tamed and styled braid. Ned held out his hand, as though she was close and not ten or fifteen feet away.

Y/N shyly walked down the field to the road, trying not to look at the guards, or Brandon. Lyanna pulled away from Ned and grabbed her arm, pulling her the last two feet. “What are you doing, Y/N? Come over here!”

She was pushed in front of him. He was different in some ways, but not many. Brandon towered above him and Lyanna was just a little shorter. Y/N smiled at that, but quickly looked to her hands, which smelled of oranges and still had a little stickiness on them.

“It’s good to see you again,” Y/N could only say. She thought of all the clever and interesting words she sent before, and how they were failing her horribly now. Her mind scrambled for something to say, something she had written before, something good, but it was all jumbled.

She didn’t look at Ned as he replied, “It’s good to see you too, Y/N.”

It was quiet, like they were the only ones, but that was quickly interrupted. Brandon was beside them, loudly teasing, “It’s Lady Y/N, brother. I thought the South was supposed to teach you all those stuffy manners.”

“She’s always been Y/N to us,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “More importantly, were you and father keeping this a secret?”

Her brother replied with a small smile. “Yes, it… it was supposed to be a surprise. I never imagined we’d meet you here.”

“And why are you two here?” Brandon crossed his arms. His good humor quickly left, as if he just took in their location and their clothes. He looked at Lyanna, then Y/N, and kept his attention on the latter. “Did you sneak out without a guard? Do you know how dangerous that can be? And why are you dressed like that?”

Y/N self-consciously pulled at her cloak as he questioned them, remembering the state she was in. Brandon’s words didn’t bother her, it was the realization that Ned hadn’t seen her in years, and this is what he saw as soon as he came back. Didn’t I have silly daydreams of him seeing me in the gown I made, or a new one? Why am I even thinking about that?

She was glad Lyanna and Brandon got into a little spat, to hide her embarrassment. She stepped behind Lyanna, half to shield herself, half to put some distance between her and Ned. She was steadily being overcome with an urge to hug him — wouldn’t that be natural? He was home now, but … it wasn’t that simple. So, she kept at Lyanna’s side, redirecting her attention on calming her friend.

“When I tell father about this, he’ll have words to say, especially since tonight he wants to hold a feast —”

“— If you tell him, I’ll tell about all that extra time you spend at the Rills!”

“It’s my job as heir to visit our bannermen and listen to their grievances!”

“Oh, yes, the pretty Ryswell daughters have much to say, I’m sure —”

Brandon went red and was ready to retort hotly, when Ned cleared his throat. He inclined his head to the men around them, all visibly impatient. Ned himself had some of that energy as he said, “Let’s go home.”

The way he said it, how could anyone continue to argue? Brandon stopped at once, knowing it had been years since his little brother had seen Winterfell properly. He patted him affectionately on the back, and Lyanna beamed. Y/N met eyes with Ned again, and they both turned away.

Brandon took his horse’s bridle. “Whose riding with whomst?”

“I’ll ride with Ned!” Lyanna blurted excitedly, and disappointment shot through Y/N so quickly, she felt a little sick. Don’t be stupid. That’s her brother, and she’ll just quarrel with Brandon, besides.

Brandon offered her a hand and easily swept her up on his horse. He asked if she was comfortable before swinging up himself, settling in like it was as easy as sitting in a chair. The problem is he put her in front, so his arms were loosely around her as he gathered his reins. Nervous as she was around these beasts, Y/N almost preferred riding behind him, although that was not always considered proper for a lady. Y/N had to hold onto him, especially with how far up she was. Brandon had a fine old destrier, once a great warhorse, still mighty and tall in her old age. She was perfect for taking him around the North, but Y/N thought she was entirely too big.

Lyanna happily settled in behind Ned instead of in front of him. Again, Y/N met his eyes. He had expressions that said so much, especially since he himself said little. She couldn’t read this one, though. Brandon called out, “Move on!” and the small escort went on the road. Y/N was thankful for the easy pace, and the steady gait of the destrier.

Her nervousness slowly settled as the four of them made conversation, with the Vale knight occasionally speaking up. Before long, the walls of Winterfell appeared before them, the proud white banners flying above. Ned looked up at the direwolf, and Y/N could swear some fatigue just melted right off him. The gates opened, and the guards keeping their station happily called to the boys, not noticing the state Lord Stark’s daughter and his ward were in. By the time their escort entered the yard, several servants, men-at-arms and children had come to see Ned come home.

Benjen pushed through all of them, eagerly running at his older brother. There was no shortage of hugs as Lyanna, Benjen and Ned reunited, while Brandon helped Y/N off the horse. Unlike his oldest brother, Benjen hadn’t developed an avoidance to his sister and her companion. He was only two years younger than them, and looked hurt as he said, “You all met him without me!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Ned said again. “I crossed Brandon on the road by chance, and then these two—”

“Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence?” Lyanna grinned. She was still standing close to Ned, all but hanging off him. Y/N allowed Benjen to squeeze past her to get to Ned.

While the three chattered, Y/N asked Brandon, “You truly didn’t know? Where were you coming from?”

“Returning from the Karstarks. Father didn’t tell me a thing.”

Lyanna and Benjen began dragging Ned to the great hall, and now servants and guards started gathering, having realized who he was and all were eager to see him. Y/N smiled, pleased he was so missed… and only slightly glad he was moving further from her. She was anxious of what would happen if they were in a small group again, or worse, alone. She almost wanted to stay behind, but Brandon called to her, lingering back so she could catch up.

Being alone happened far sooner than Y/N anticipated.

The next morning, she stepped carefully through the snow, watching for roots just slightly sticking out. The sun was beginning to peak over the stone walls, helping her navigate the quiet yard. This route wasn’t yet familiar to her. She’d only made it recently, and often without Lyanna. Her friend wanted to mourn in quiet.

Y/N descended into the crypts. She shuddered instantly, feeling a far stronger cold take hold of her. Her footsteps echoed off the stone and she walked steadily toward her destination, passing statues of long dead Lord Starks and their sons.

Lady Lyarra did not have a sculpted sepulcher, but she had a beautiful tomb and marker for her bones. Y/N held her reticule close, bringing it to her nose so she could smell the crisp, dried oranges and give herself peace of mind. She hadn’t even visited her own family’s crypt.

She gasped as the shadows shuddered, nearly dropping the dried peels. The torches were scattered about, some not lit, making the shadows grow and recede with every second. She heard something just a few feet away.

Y/N bit down a curse as Ned came into view, the shadows circling around him. He blinked at her, his grey eyes almost looking black in the limited light.

“Y/N?”

“Y-You scared me,” She shuddered. “I didn’t — I didn’t think there would be anyone here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” Y/N paused. She couldn’t seem to steady her heart, not with Ned looking directly at her. He was so much taller than before. She turned away. “I wanted to pay my respects. To give a gift.”

He didn’t respond right away. Y/N thought of the letters, of the reassurances, the kindnesses she sent him when he finally heard the news of his mother’s passing.

Why was it failing her now? She squeezed the fabric bag between her fingers.

“You brought something for her?” Ned asked quietly. “Could I see?”

Y/N nodded. She stepped closer, but not enough to feel any warmth from him. The cold of the crypt was cooling her nerves. “Orange peels. I dried them. They… they smell nice.”

She felt foolish, but he smiled. It was slight, but it was there.

“This way.” He said. He took a torch off the wall and led her deeper in. Y/N forgot how far it truly was. The Starks had been dying for centuries, and soon they would have to dig deeper into the cave to make space for the future generations. Lyarra was buried next to her parents, neither of who had a statue either.

There were fresh blue roses on the grave, and older, smaller blossoms that had begun to dry and decay. Y/N recalled Benjen brought those. She arranged the orange peels neatly, happy with the fragrance they gave off in addition to the roses. Ned must have brought those.

She quietly prayed, and Ned kept quiet beside her, perhaps joining her, perhaps not. When she finished, her hands fell to her side. Her cold, bare fingers brushed with Ned’s, and she felt the soft wool of his gloves. His finger hooked around one of her’s, and she curled it.

“Ned, I don’t presume to know your feelings, but I can only imagine how much you must hurt. If I could only help — if you were only right here, instead of far away —”

“When I home come, I want to see you, and do all the things we said we would do. I want to watch you paint, and dance, and maybe ride a horse — because I know Lyanna will make us — but most of all, I want to hear your voice.”

Y/N felt her throat was dry, but she stayed put, wondering if her heartbeat could be heard bouncing off the walls. She knew if she looked at him, even with a glance, she’d lose all composure and just run away.

She almost did that, when a loud noise made them both jump nearly two feet apart. Ned instantly took her hand back to push her behind him, then touched his sword. He grasped the hilt and lifted it just an inch out of the scabbard.

“Gods!” Y/N let out a hard breath. The skinny orange cat that knocked the unlit brazier over. It didn’t have coal in it, but it still made a terrible racket. The cat hissed and ran back into the shadows.

“I see he’s still here,” Ned mumbled. He set his sword back, and his shoulders were still tight. “Damned creature.”

“He gets lost down here so often. If he were kinder, I’d carry him out.”

“If it’s the same orange cat from when I was a boy, he’d rather freeze to death than be touched for even a moment.”

Silly smiles graced their faces, in spite of where they were, in spite of why they came in the first place. Ned nervously touched the hilt of his sword. “Shall we return?”

As they stepped out of the crypt, Y/N had to lift her skirts to climb the stairs easier. Ned offered his hand, and she took it for the last few steps. He didn’t immediately let go, and she didn’t comment on it. Instead she asked, “Did they make you learn those manners in the South?”

“There’s all sorts of manners and noble bearing they expect. It’s exhausting,” Ned admitted with a shy expression, and Y/N couldn’t help but imagine him trying some sort of silly, formal dance she’d heard about.

“Give me an example.”

He stared at their connected hands, his ears and cheeks slowly growing redder. Y/N didn’t pull away, even if her own body was threatening to explode with nerves and heat.

She expected him to kiss her hand, like she’d hear the other girls gossip about. She felt his warm lips against her fingers, through her thin gloves, and it made her jolt. Some of his brown hair brushed against her arm. I might well and truly die now.

Ned coughed and hastily turned away from her, utterly embarrassed at his own behavior. “Th-that’s what Lord Arryn… what Lord Arryn said to do when … when meeting a lady…”

“Are you kissing other ladies?” She couldn’t help it. She giggled, the warmth in her chest bubbling up to her lips. Her hand felt like it was on fire. “Should I be jealous, Ned?”

Ned covered his face with his hands, and she laughed. She covered her own face to settle her silly, foolish giddiness. “Of course not,” He grumbled. “You’re the only one I ever spoke to, besides.”

“Oh, you must have talked to some in the Eyrie.”

“Some.” Ned’s grey eyes glanced to her. She met his gaze, and they held it as he continued, “Though I kept wishing you were there.”

Y/N had to look away again. She couldn’t giggle, her throat was stuck, her chest hurt and she hated how tongue-tied she was. She never imagined it would be this hard — whatever this was —

“What in the seven hells are you both doing?”

Looking through her fingers, Y/N watched Brandon saunter up to them. The older Stark tilted his head to his brother.

Ned could only manage to suspiciously avoid looking at him. Brandon glanced between them, and Y/N felt like she had done something wrong. She quickly said, “We were visiting the crypt to pay our respects.”

Brandon’s face fell, and he said little else. Y/N understood it would be time for breakfast soon, and the morning sun had long broken over the tall stone walls. The three of them walked back to the keep together, Brandon pointedly putting himself between Y/N and Ned.

#ned stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #salt & snow #libra fics

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prfctethereal · 3 years

Text

no body, no crime. | marauders

pairing: platonic!james potter x reader, platonic!sirius black x reader, platonic!remus lupin x reader, platonic!peter pettigrew x reader

wordcount: 3,608

warnings: this whole thing is about murder, blood, swearing, alcohol use

a/n: so i accidentally listen to no body, no crime all afternoon and felt inspired to write this. it was supposed to be shorter but oh well. let me know if i should write a part two - kennedy

***

I need your help. Come quick.

I scrawled the message onto three different spare pieces of parchment and hurried into the kitchen, opening the nearest window. The rush of fresh air could’ve been clarity for me but what was done was done. There was no changing the past, but changing the future was still on my plate.

Waving my arm in the night sky, I signalled my owl, Stefan, calling him over to the window. He hooted excitedly, eager to be put to use in the cold winter season. As he landed on my arm, a dusting of snow ruffled from his feather, onto my blood splattered torso, bouncing onto the kitchen counter. Looking down at my appearance, the severity of the situation settled in. There was a dead body in my living room and I had no idea what to do.

“Stefan, I need you to send these letters to the marauders. Go to James and Lily’s house first; it’s the closest, but whatever you do, don’t let Lily see it. Then, go to Remus’ house. Sirius is staying with him as well. They can both see the letter. Lastly, go to Peter’s house and make sure he comes. Keep pecking him on his hand if he chickens out. Can you do that for me?”

Stefan hooted loudly, which I instantly shushed, taking note of the time of day. I didn’t want to wake any of the neighbours. Once Stefan understood the instructions, I let him fly away. A comfortable silence was left in my house as I paced through the kitchen, not even thinking about what to do next.

“I need a drink.” I hummed softly for myself, swinging open the cupboard and taking out a bottle of red wine. After pouring a glass, I waited, sipping to calm my nerves.

It wasn’t long before I heard the distinguished snap of someone apparating, followed by a small squeal. James had arrived first, right into the crime scene. He called out my name, which I responded to, and he trudged into the kitchen, unable to make a coherent sentence.

What he saw was one of his best friends sitting on the ground, blood staining their shirt, a glass of wine firm in their grips, eyes glassy and dazed over.

“Are you going to explain this or…?” James trailed off, realising that he wasn’t going to get an answer quite yet.

“Wait until the others get here.” I responded monotonously, finishing the glass of wine with a single gulp. Mindlessly, I reached upwards to the kitchen counter, patting around for the bottle, before it was snatched away by none other than James Potter himself.

“Darling, if we’re going to be covering up a murder tonight, I think it would be best for you to be as sober as possible.” He cheeked, a cocky smirk on his face. It was soon wiped away by the sound of someone else crashing into the living room, followed by a high pitch yelp; a similar reaction to James’.

“[Y/N]? Did you kill someone?” It was the distinct voice of Peter Pettigrew who followed the quiet murmurings of James and I into the kitchen. When he walked through the door, he seemed to be nursing his right hand, which looked like it had been pecked over and over by an owl, most likely Stefan.

“Take a guess.” I muttered, unusually grumping as I desperately wanted to refill my glass of wine and drown out the sorrows and voices in my head. Oh no, I didn’t feel guilty for killing the man in the living room. I felt guilty for not even having any sort of conscience.

Peter joined us, sitting down on the other side of me. His eyes lit up as he noticed the bottle of wine in James’ hand, muttering a quick “thank you” before taking a swig of the burning liquid.

“The other two should be here by now.” I deadpanned. James and Peter hummed in agreement but it wasn’t long before the rest of them arrived. A knock at the front door signified that Remus and Sirius had arrived, as Remus always felt it was much more polite to apparate outside of someone’s home, instead of directly inside it.

Begrudgingly, I went to stand up, before toppling over into Peter’s lap. I hadn’t realised that the alcohol had already affected me so much, my fist clenching to my temples as I moaned in frustration. It was common knowledge that I was a lightweight. I should’ve thought of that before I let my gluttony become me.

“How about I get the door?” James suggested, standing up instead. “Besides, what if it’s not the other two? What if it’s the police? Can’t have someone covered in blood answer the door.”

As James walked off to the front door, I stayed curled up in Peter’s lap, his hand slowly stroking my shaking arm in an attempt to sooth me. New flash: it wasn’t working.

Two more screeches emerged from the living room which meant that Remus and Sirius had finally showed up. Still shaking, I finally rose from my seating position, with the help of Peter, and made my way into the living room.

It was the first time I had seen the mess I had made with a clear head, or a head that wasn’t plagued with wrath and hatred. Blood was all up the walls, coating too many surfaces to count. The body was lying face down on the carpet, fresh blood still leaking out of his corpse. A putrid smell filled the room, coming from the gas build up in the man’s body. Gagging at the sight, I held my ground, fighting the need to run away and throw up in my bathroom.

“Okay, Remus and Sirius are here now. Can you please tell us what happened?” James begged, his eyes filled with fear. I couldn’t blame him. Finding out one of his best friends had murdered someone must have been horrifying, but it was no time to ponder about the drastic change in our relationship. I needed to explain.

“Do you remember Este, the hufflepuff in our year? She was in our herbology class year seven. She was also in our potions class up until year six.” I started, looking at my friend’s around me, who were all listening intently. “Well, we’ve been friends since year one I guess. We were friends for many years. Even after we left Hogwarts, I still caught up with her. Every Tuesday night, we’d have dinner together and chat, you know, gossip about what’s going on. Anyway, one night, she was talking about her husband-”

“Husband?” Sirius interjected, completely confused. “Este never dated anyone during the entirety of Hogwarts. We’ve only been out for less than a year. How did she find someone to date and marry in that timeframe?”

“Well, they met the day after graduation, at a ministry party. Este was starting in the Magical Accidents and Catastrophes department and met Jason Bulstrode. They must’ve hit it off because a month later they were married. I went to their wedding in August; it was quite pleasant.”

“Okay, continue with the story.” Remus hurried me along, getting quite fidgety with the body behind him. He was anxiously looking behind him, as if the body was going to start moving.

“Oh right, anyway, one night, she was talking about Jason. She was getting nervous because she thought he was cheating on her. She kept talking about how Jason had been spending money on jewellery that wasn’t hers and how he has been coming home from work later and later, smelling like cheap perfume and merlot. I convinced her to confront him about it. A week later, we were supposed to meet for our weekly dinner but she never showed up. I went down to this bar that Jason always went to to see if he knew anything. He was drunk, going on about how she went missing. I didn’t believe it for one second.”

I paused, taking a deep breath. Peter had started drinking out of the wine bottle once more. Remus was fiddling nervously with his digits, as Sirius tried to calm him down, while listening in to every word I was saying.

“Another week goes by and a woman moves into Este and Jason’s house. You’ll never guess who. It was Lucinda Greengrass. I thought it was strange to see Jason move on so quickly because Este could’ve still shown up, but then it hit me. Este was never going to show up. Jason had murdered her. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I confronted him once again at the bar. He seemed a lot more sober though this time. When I brought up the fact that he killed his wife, he lunged at me. I thought I could apparate away to protect myself but he had already grabbed onto me. He was trying to kill me first, so technically it was self defence. I grabbed a framed picture from my mantle and smashed it on the ground. I used one of the broken pieces of glass and used it to protect myself. Then, I wrote a letter to you four and got you to come over. I think we’ve caught up.”

I was out of breath by the time I had finished talking, expecting to be bombarded with hundreds of questions. Except, they all seemed quite silent, their own plans formulating over in their heads. I stayed quiet, letting them think, biting my own nails at what was going on. Remus was the one who spoke up first.

“Did anyone see you leave the bar with Jason?” Remus asked, hurrying out of the kitchen into the living room. He seemed to be looking for something, but what?

“No.” I put simply, watching as Sirius’ face lit up, understanding what Remus was getting at. James and Peter made eye contact and with that, it seemed like everyone was on the same page except me.

“Then his last known location was the bar. He could’ve gone missing at the bar.” James muttered, following Remus. Except, James headed for the laundry, hurriedly looking for cleaning supplies.

“Missing?” I called, frantically trying to follow them, but they all seemed to be in a mind of their own, understanding what had to be done. James emerged from the laundry with a mop and a bucket of bleach. Peter came from the direction of the kitchen holding a massive black garbage back, gloves decorating his hands.

“No one knows you killed him, [Y/N], and we intend on keeping it that way. He’ll stay a missing man.” Peter finished off the thought, carefully trodding over to Jason’s bloody corpse on the ground. “Besides, Este is also classified as missing. It could be played off that they ran off together or something.”

I was rooted to the spot as I watched what was going on around me. Peter had put Jason’s body in a weird contortion to fit in the garbage bag and tied a knot. Quickly, he grabbed another to double line the bag, making sure there were no leakages. Once it was secure, Peter placed the bag outside to air out, making sure the smell wouldn’t linger much longer in the house.

Sirius was quick to clean the linen. He picked up the rug from the ground and hurried it off into the laundry so it could clean itself the muggle way. The next task was trying to remember the cleaning spells from year three and being able to execute them at such a high quality that it can get rid of even the strongest of stains, like blood.

“Can you help me with this, love?” Sirius cooed, motioning for me to help him with the stains on the couches. Muttering the incantation, we watched the stain fade ever so slightly. Cursing under his breath, Sirius tried again, whispering the spell once more. The blood splotch faded once more but only slightly. “At this rate, we’ll be here for hours.”

At this moment, Remus came back into the room, holding up what he was looking for before. My old boat keys. Being a half blood with a muggle father meant that he had taught me a few things about the muggle world. He had also taught me how to drive a boat, helping me get my boating license at only fifteen years old. It was perplexing though; why would Remus care about my boat? It wasn’t going to help us now.

“Where do you dock your boat?” Remus said calmly, spinning the keys around in his fingers effortlessly. By now, he had caught the attention of the rest of the marauders. Sirius poked his head out from behind the couch, James looked up from where he was mopping the floors, and Peter walked back into the living room from checking on the bag in the backyard.

“Uh, all the way back in my hometown, miles away from here. Old Muster Lake.” I stuttered out. With that, Remus opened up more of my drawers, searching for a map. When he had found it, he motioned for me to follow him into the dining room where he splayed the map out on the table.

“Show me.” Remus stated firmly, brushing his fingers over the dirty map. Hesitantly, I pointed my fingers about a hundred miles north of here. Remus bit his lip, thinking about what to do next. His breathing was shallow and I could feel his nervousness from here. All I hoped was that his plan would work out.

“Can you still drive the boat?” Remus said after a while, looking me in the eyes. I nodded slowly and Remus looked content, grabbing the map from the table and motioned for Peter to come to him. “We’re going to the lake to dump the body. You’re coming.”

“What? No.” Peter spluttered, his heart racing quickening. “I get terrible motion sickness. Oi! James!” Peter called James over who was focused on his task at hand, scrubbing the floor with the mop. “I’ll take over your job and you can go to the lake with these two.”

“Alright.” James huffed, passing the mop over to Peter. When they were ready, Remus, James and I walked outside into the night, walking over to the garbage bag where Jason’s body was already rotting. Even in the darkness of the night, I could tell that the bag hadn’t leaked, which was a good sign. With a nod of Remus and James’ head, I knew they were ready, so I held onto the bag while they held onto my arms and I apparated away into the night.

As we arrived at Old Muster Lake, a wave of post apparition nausea washed over me, nearly toppling me over if it hadn’t been for James holding me up. When I got myself sorted, I looked out onto the lake where I hadn’t been for years.

The whole lake looked deserted at this time of year. A faint mist was rising off of the lake, reflecting in the moonlight of the crescent moon. Big trees breathed in the like breeze, swaying softly in the wind. A hooting owl and the rustle of tree branches were the only noises that could be heard between the three of them.

Remus was the first to break the silence, stepping forward, his feet crunching onto the leafy ground. The dead leaves cracked underneath his shoes, giving away his position. He paused, listening out for anyone, sniffing the air slightly, before continuing to walk up to the docks. Thinking it was safe, James and I followed after him until we reached the end of the dock. The planks of the dock were old and unkempt, seeming like they might break underneath our feet. Carefully, we walked across the together, before the dock finished beneath us. I could see my boat a bit away from the dock, but it was too far away. There was no way of reaching the boat, until I had an idea.

“Remus, give me my key.”

“What?”

“I can swim over to the boat and bring it around. Give me my keys.” I repeated, holding my hand out to him. Obliging, he placed the keys on my palm and watched as I looped my digits around the key ring tight so it wouldn’t escape me.

I hadn’t swam in years. As I dived off the dock and into the freezing water, I remembered the rush of it. Resurfacing, I gasped for air, shivering in the winter water. My clothes hung uncomfortably by my side, sticking to my cold figure. My teeth chattered unconsciously, reminding me to get a move on before I froze in the temperature. We didn’t want two dead bodies in the lake now, did we?

Free styling in the lake, I stroked my arms by my side, swimming towards my boat in the ocean. It was about a seventy meter swim which was an okay length, but the warmth of the water made it feel like an eternity. When I finally reached the boat, I climbed up the ladder at the back and clambered into the boat. A chilly gush of wind hit my skin, sending goosebumps up my spine. I was too cold but I persisted, fumbling with the key in my hand and struggling to put it in the key hole. When it finally went in, I turned the engine on, letting a roar come out of the exhaust. Luckily, there was still half a tank of fuel in the tank from the summers ago when my family had come to the lake. Back then, it brought such happy memories. Now, not at all.

I brought the boat around to the dock, letting James and Remus pile in, pulling the heavy bag over the side of the ship. When we were ready, I sped off into the middle of the lake, where it was deepest, the perfect spot to dump a body.

“The next open season will be summer. By the time it comes, the body should’ve decomposed a lot more.” I spluttered out, my cold body shivering, making the words come out of my mouth in an unsteady stream.

“Here. Take this. You look freezing.” Remus said quietly, placing his jacket over my shoulders, which I gratefully accepted. Immediately, I started feeling much warmer, continuing on with our mission.

Once we reached the middle of the lake, there weren’t a lot of words said between the three of us. Instantly, James started untying the knot on the garbage bag, opening it up to the world. It reeked worse than before but there was nothing we could do about it now. With all three of our strengths combined, we managed to hold onto the bag and tip the corpse into the lake with a splash. Wordlessly, we headed back to the dock, as I dropped the two boys back off.

Again, I turned the engine off, tying the boat back up at the buoy. Holding onto the keys, I dived back into the chilling lake, though the cold didn’t affect as much as last time. Swimming back to the dock, I relished in everything we had done, remembering the body that was now decomposing in the lake. I felt dirty as I swam through the contaminated water.

Reaching the dock, I pulled myself out via the ladder and laid down on the planks, catching my breath. That’s when everything caught up to me. Tears were ebbing in the corners of my eyes, spilling onto my reddening cheeks. My lip quivered as quiet sobs spilled past my lips. Closing my eyes, I let the darkness consume me for a few moments, until I felt two strong arms hoisting me back up into a standing position. Stroking my arms, they both tried to soothe me from my breakdown. Minutes ticked by as I let my tears run down my cheeks. I was openly sobbing now. All I needed was a sleep.

“You wanna go now?” James muttered to which I nodded. Holding onto the deflated bag, James apparated us away, back into my unrecognisable house.

Peter and Sirius had done a fantastic job. There wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere in the living room; everything looked spotless. The rug that was drenched with blood had gone through the washing machine and was now back in its usual spot. The couches looked brand new, meaning that Sirius must have figured out how to do the spell properly. An aroma of fresh flowers flooded the room, overpowering the smell of rotting flesh. It was perfect.

“How did it go?” Sirius asked, appearing from the kitchen with Peter.

“It’s been taken care of.” I mustered up the courage to say. “Now, if anyone asks, and I doubt they will, but just in case, we had a dinner party tonight.”

The four of them nodded in agreement, heading for the doorway to leave, but I stopped them.

“And you stayed the night. Everyone had had a little too much to drink. That means no one would have slipped off to kill anyone, okay?”

With that, they all followed me up the staircase into the hallway of spare rooms for them to sleep in. I thought I was alone as I stayed out in the hallway, turning the lights out. I cried again.

I cried for a while.

Until I felt a reassuring hand on my back, calming me down. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry, love. No body, no crime, right?”

138 notes · View notes

admiringlove · 3 years

Text

IX: aparecium; an incantation to always remember.

— you finally read all the other pages of his diary.

+pairing: miya atsumu x reader.

+genre: crossover(hq x hp); fluff; angst; frenemies to lovers.

+word count: 2.9k.

+warnings: FLUFF!! pls, if i don’t put fluff, some of my moots would cry(*cough* ray).

+usual customers(taglist): @babyworld @renee1414 @anotherhydrangea @seita @tobiosnoelle @weebslxt @tsukkiwaifu16 @loveusandoor @kozumebri @sarawrz @crackheadsara @kyuudere @cultsax @supernovaa-a @akaashikeijisan @b3llo-there @sugasloverr @kagebunshiin @tetsurolls @velvetfireworks @kritiiiii @1wai@seijohlogy @sweetrosemilktea @bellesowl @ems1des @akaashi-todorki @sakuric @irishhbamb @sweetsamus @cherriechurros @mxshimoo @bluebirdandcomrades @zukuroo @denki-core @sarahvvictoria @littlevoxine

+author’s notes: this is the last chapter(im def not sad) BUT i will be writing bonus parts!!

+navigation: previous, masterlist,.

You stand in front of your apartment, sighing as you close your eyes, making your way inside your bedroom and begin to pick up the cardboard boxes with the help of your wand, moving them outside into the living room for someone(who is quite late, yet again) to take to your new home.

You tie your hair up, fixing your overcoat a little as you sigh, making your way to the smallest box, placed in the corner of the room. Just by looking at the stamp on top of it, you smile.

The memories of your time at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You carefully sit on your knees, your plaid skirt riding up just a smidge, as you open the carton in front of you.

To say that it was filled up completely was an understatement because right now, a few books and photographs fell out onto your lap, making you chuckle. You picked up the photographs, settling with your back against the wall and your legs stretching out, as you looked through them one by one.

The first one—one of your graduation ceremony, standing next to Shimizu Kiyoko(the current owner of the most popular Quidditch shop in London) who was beaming vividly at the camera with you, holding up your wands as a gesture that you had finally done it. Something that seemed almost insurmountable when you first started school, and now? You all were content, happy with your lives.

The second photograph was one from the third year, your first time in Hogsmeade. You were in The Three Broomsticks, and a mustache of the froth from the butterbeer had formed atop your lips. Behind you, a certain fox pointed and laughed his guts out.

The next picture was from the Shrieking Shack—where all of your friends had ditched the second last day of school and spent the whole day drinking and reminiscing the past seven years of nostalgic happiness. A boy held your hand with the fondest look in his carob orbs, and you returned it.

You gingerly took the three photos, storing them in the photo album that had also fallen out of the box in the process of you opening it. Smiling, you took out some more mementos.

Your broomstick, the Nimbus 2001, sat at the bottom, but you excitedly removed it and placed it on the ground, saying, "Up!"

It almost made it to your hand but fell down upon grazing your fingertips. You pouted, blaming the number of years it had passed since you had played Quidditch. Peering into the box as you placed the broomstick aside, you found something even funnier.

Cheap, piss colored hair-dye that was almost ten-years-old.

You chuckled, looking at it playfully as you opened the top of the bottle. The disgusting odor that came from it made you grunt as you immediately placed the cap back on top, never desiring to touch that thing ever again. And once more, you placed the item in your hand to the side, looking into the box to find more things that reminded you of your happiest years.

You couldn't believe your eyes at what sat at the bottom of the carton.

An empty notebook with a soft leather cover, with a grey quill by its side, sitting there and ridiculing you.

You blinked twice, making sure what you were seeing was real. Hell, you even rubbed your eyes until you could see mindless patterns in the dark. You opened your eyes, the patterns making themselves sort of visible in plain sight, disappearing after a few milliseconds when you grabbed the brown book in front of you and whispered with your wand in hand, "Aparecium."

September 2, 20**.

I don’t know what I’m doing at this point. It’s been 3 years since I started loving her. When I saw her walk into the train today, umm, yesterday cause it’s past 2 AM now… I felt so happy?? I mean, I know I tease her and all, she’s quite amazing. She’s got the brains for it all and insults me back even when I say something stupid. I really dunno. 3 years and I’ve made 0 progress. I seriously need to re-think my decision about my love for this girl 'cause 'Samu says there’s no chance she loves me back. Dunno if I’ll be able to stop my feelings, though. I’ve liked her since my second year. Damn me, for being such a lovesick puppy. And to think I colored my hair for her too. [Y/N] called it piss-colored. Out of all things, why the fuck would ya compare somebody’s hair to piss? That’s utterly disgusting. I wonder where [L/N] gets these dumb ideas. Damn her, that slug. Anyways, I have class in a couple hours. G'night.

'Tsumu.

You immediately let out a hearty laugh, flipping to the next page when you remembered a certain encounter with the boy who wrote the diary. The day he told you he loved you, by the infamous Black Lake, he spoke of this particular page. He said that he addressed the nightly trips around Hogwarts, about how much he longs to be yours, about his happiness when he sees you, and your snarky comments that are just as, if not more, witty than his.

September 4, 20**

Today was the third day of school. Also my first trip around Hogwarts with [Y/N] under my invisibility cloak. We snuck into the kitchens and got ourselves steak pies and treacle tarts, and then went to the Astronomy Tower where we ate them while laughing about nothing in particular. I love these little trips. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Dunno how to put it into words, but I really like spending time with her alone. It makes me really really really happy. I wish that someday, maybe when I'm all grown up and play for a known Quidditch Team and she's a DADA professor, we are still like this. Going around to aimless places, eating food, and laughing about the old times(or anything really, I just want to be with her even when I'm older). And just like always, she doesn't fail to throw dumb comebacks at me. I can't help but chuckle at them, because sometimes they really are offensive. Well, looks like it's time to hit the hay now, so g'night.

'Tsumu.

You gasp as the page comes to an end, a hand on your mouth. He wasn't wrong when he said he wrote about you. You smile as a tear runs down your cheek as you flip to a random page this time, and you realize that it's written in his sixth year of Hogwarts.

December 23, 20**

I stayed back for Christmas break this year and my dorm is all empty. So is hers, because she says she didn't want to go back home at all until the summer. I feel bad for her gran, that woman must feel lonely.

You giggled at the line, grinning because you remember your grandma sending you a Howler, which yelled at you in the empty dorm-room for not coming home for the holidays. She said she missed you, and that your grandfather's health was deteriorating. She had also said that she knew why you didn't come back, and that it was okay, because she understood that you couldn't see another loved one go. The Howler ended on a sorrowful note, but everything eased back into its place because you remember the writer of the diary in your hands being there to comfort you when a dreaded letter came in after the holidays. You continued reading where you left off, wiping away the new wave of tears that had emerged from the memories.

Yesterday, me and [Y/N] went around the castle under the invisibility cloak I gave her. It was fun because I always get to see this little smile on her face that only shows up during these trips. We also went to the forbidden section of the library just because we wanted to look at a few spells that are probably illegal. I did accidentally kill a rat practicing the second unforgivable curse, and [Y/N] helped me hide all the evidence by feeding the dead rat to the Hippogriff she had found in the Forbidden Forest. I swear, if someone saw the way I did the spell and couldn't stop until [Y/N] threw Expelliarmus at me, they would throw me in the deepest pin in Azkaban and I'd probably never be able to see [Y/N] again. Anyway, I have to go back out for dinner now. G'night.

'Tsumu.

You, again, laughed at the man's childishness. You recollect distinctly how scared he was, that he had almost pissed his pants in the Courtyard that night. You had assured him that nothing would go wrong and that your lips were completely sealed, because he was your friend of course, so you had quickly formulated a plan to help him. And yet again, you flip to a new page, one from the fifth year this time.

July 15, 20**

I hate this part every year. Ever since my third year, it sickens me to come back home for summer. I can't see her because she lives in Lambeth while I'm in Westminster with my posh family. It makes me a little angry sometimes that my family is well-known in the wizarding world because this means my summers are filled with whatever my parents want me to do. The train ride back home was definitely not quiet. It was so chaotic(mostly because of the constant bickering between me and [Y/N]) and Kita-san yelled at us at the end. That was the first time I've ever seen him get angry, so he was either really fed up or we were being too dumb. Anyway, I'm gonna miss Hogwarts a lot for the next month or so, because after that I get to see her again. Honestly? Can't wait for the sixth year. I hope she grows taller, because right now, she's quite the midget. I'll write her a letter or two, but I probably won't send all of them. G'night for now.

'Tsumu.

You continue reading it all. Page by page, parchment by parchment, word by word, letter by letter until you finally get to the last page. The one he wrote on the graduation day, where he says that he wants to marry you someday. But you don't get to read it just yet, because he walks into the room with his booming voice and boyish grin.

"[Y/N]! Sorry I'm late, sweetheart! I apparated back home as fast as I could 'cause Coach saw me slack off a lil-"

"So ya actually read it all, huh?" he smirks, walking up to you and crouching down next to you, "Ah, the last page, have ya read it yet?"

"Not the last one," you smile, "—if only I'd read these sooner, we wouldn't have gone through all that mindless drama in seventh year, right?"

"Eh, 'twas kinda worth it in the end," he shrugs, sitting down next to you and placing his thumb on your chin, "Love, you've been crying?"

You shook your head lightly, letting out a small chuckle which to him sounded like the sweetest melody on the face on the planet, "Tears of joy, 'Tsumu. You were a cute teenager in love."

He smiles with his teeth on display, his fading blonde hair falling on his face with perfection as he whispers, "Only for you, darling."

"I'm glad," you mutter, closing in and placing a ghost of a kiss on his lips when you realize, "Wait, shit! We have to take all of this to the House! I'm supposed to leave for Hogwarts tonight!"

"Kiss me first, then we'll talk."

"'Tsumu, you really didn't have to come all the way to Hogwarts to drop me off," you giggle, as the yellow-haired man intertwines his fingers with yours quietly, giggling along with you as he says, "Hey, now yer students get to see yer hot boyfriend that you've been with for the past eight years."

"My stupid boyfriend that did a lot of illegal things in school. You're not exactly a good influence, you know," you mumble, earning a little offended open-mouth Atsumu walking alongside you to your quarters. He continues faking the vexed expression, a hand on his heart as he says, "How could ya wound me like this, baby?"

"I love you though, so it's justified," you say, opening the door and placing your trunk by the bed. He closes the door, leaning on it with his arms crossed over his chest as you set up your things in the room. When you turned around, you saw Atsumu looking at you with the most enamored look in his clove-infused eyes. You sighed, your shoulders immediately relaxing when your orbs land on him by the door. You step towards him, your beige trench coat trailing behind as you wrap your arms around his very muscular figure(now that he's a part of Nottingham Jackals as a Beater).

"You're going to leave, aren't you?" you mumble against his chest softly, as he chuckles out, "Yer lucky ya get to stay in Hogwarts when I'm gone. Everything's gonna remind ya of me."

Before you open your mouth to retort, your boyfriend says, "Don't worry, slug. I'll send ya letters everyday. And I'll come to meet ya twice a month. Maybe you can even let me meet yer students."

"'Tsumu, no-"

"Imagine! Children and teenagers, all of 'em love me to death. They'll love yer class, even more, when you make me meet 'em!" he exclaims, his eyes filled with curiosity, "Also, also! What about the third years? I wanna be there when the boggart lesson goes on-"

"'Tsumu, no. The school won't allow it. Although, my students do come and ask about you a lot because they like your Quidditch playing skills. They're not idiots like me, they won't fall in love with your stupid personality," you chuckle, pulling away from the hug, but still holding his arms with yours. He pouts, pulling you into a soft kiss, but immediately pulling away and winking at you, "I'm gonna see ya in a few weeks. Maybe I'll take ya on a date to Hogsmeade again, we can sneak into the Shrieking Shack again under that invisibility cloak."

"'Tsumu, I'm a teacher, not a student!" you laugh, but he simply says, "If anything, that gives us an excuse!"

Miya Atsumu never expected you to be agitatedly running around in your green-room, trying to find things for your hair and make-up. He chuckles lightly because all the other people in the room can do is shake their heads and sigh at your frantic state. Your maid-of-honor, Kiyoko, tried to calm you down about half an hour ago, but it was to no avail.

Atsumu sent Kiyoko a knowing glance, to which she and all the other bridesmaids stepped outside for just a minute.

"[Y/N]," he says, his voice low but still soothing. You stop in your tracks, turning around and gasping as you looked at him—clad in sweatpants and a white shirt—and widened your eyes.

"Dummy, you aren't supposed to see me just yet! Go away and wait at the altar!" you yell, walking over to him and attempting to shove him outside the room.

Emphasis on the word, 'attempting'.

"You look exactly like what you are right now, a slug. So listen to me, love. I need to give ya something before you start stressin' out all over again," Atsumu murmurs, placing his hands on your shoulders tenderly as he pulls out a book with a leather cover and hands it to you.

You sigh, picking it up as you sit down by the vanity. Atsumu looms behind you, crouching down to whisper next to your ears, "Love, open the last page, will ya?"

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, turning your head to look at him with exasperation. He places a peck to your cheek, humming indulgently as an indicator for you to continue as he instructed. You sigh again, shoulders drooping low as you turn over the book and open it, and muttering, "Aparecium."

July 2, 20**.

I want to marry [L/N] [Y/N] someday.

Miya Atsumu.

From the last day of the seventh year, and Atsumu continues to explain to you that during the train ride back home when all of you were sleeping, was when he wrote the last entry of his diary, and never opened it again. Because he knew, that he meant every word scribbled on every page.

You sat there, listening to the man with the messy faded blonde hair, losing yourself in his perfect brown eyes all over again. You felt as if you were diving deep into an ocean of pure chocolate, the sweetness and the slight bitterness getting the best of you as you drown—but voluntarily, because drowning was your intention.

"I love you, Atsumu," you say out of nowhere, cutting him off. He stops abruptly, his eyes growing wide and his mouth forming into a pout. His lips form into the brightest smile ever, as if the rays of a thousand suns meeting at one point. His boyish grin melts your heart, as he presses his lips to your forehead and says, "I love you more, darling. Now, take a breather, will ya?"

"Oh, and before I go. Don't disappoint me today, slug. I've been waiting to do this for the past eleven years."

i’m not crying. yes.

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juminsmysticmc · 3 years

Note

Listen

MC...teaching Jumin meme culture

That's all imma say and you can add the rest

You want cuddles? Check

Lots of kisses? Check?

Jumin trying and failing to send a meme to MC and the RFA? Check?

More cuddles and kisses? Double check

A failed attempt where Jumin tries to quote a vien but inatead mixes two up and ends up being something else entirely? Check

Just make it so sweet that we all get diabetes ;D

Mc teaching Jumin the Meme Culture

Okay, so I had some other requests before this but I knew that it would take me some time to get this one finished so I started with this one first because I also didn’t know what memes were ( and the requester had to explain what vien is so RIP ) This is inspired by my beta reader ( thanks baby ) and no, I didn’t get paid for using the card name ,,what do you meme?’’

Tell me if you enjoyed this One Shot! It was a nice challenge LOL

You were sitting on your couch, going through an Instagram meme page when Jumin heard you chuckle to yourself. Your husband decided to check on you. He wanted to know what could possibly make his wife laugh and chuckle to herself. The black haired man looked over your shoulders, his eyes on your phone display as you were scrolling down. He could see a girl that was probably six years old. The girl was smiling and in the background a house was on fire. Jumin slowly began to read what the picture said, ,,When they say that anime is for children’’ Jumin didn’t quite understand what a house on fire had to do with Japanese animation, but he didn’t say anything until you somehow noticed that there was warmth on your back. You turned your head around just to see your husband behind you. ,,Jumin, you made me panic for a second. Is everything okay?’’ you asked him and looked him deep into his eyes. The look of concern made him go soft as he brushed your cheek.

,,Yes, my love. Everything is fine. I was just wondering why you were reading these odd picture captions,’’ he told you and kept staring at your phone. Once again, you chuckled and rubbed with your hand on his arm. ,,Jumin, these aren’t some captions. It’s a meme. You don’t know what memes are?’’ you asked him and couldn’t stop smiling. Your husband shook his head. Once again, he wasn’t up to date… but before he could even feel bad, you pulled him over. He walked around the couch to sit next to you, your hand on his leg as you moved closer to him. Your soft lips touched his cheek as you mumbled in his ear that it was okay ,,For once, I can teach you something,’’ you giggled. ,,My love,’’ Jumin began and stroked your hair with his big manly hand. You looked at him and waited for him to talk to you. ,,You already taught me so many things. You taught me love, happiness, how to relax... I hope you’re not serious,’’ he smiled and then looked back to your phone’s display.

,,So, basically memes are pictures like these and… wait,’’ you sighed and opened google, asking ,,What’s a meme?’’ You quickly hit the button for research and then read out loud what the first page said. ,,An image, video, piece of text, etc., typically humorous in nature, that is copied and spread rapidly by internet users, often with slight variations,’’ you said and looked at him, who seemed to understand. Then you opened Instagram again and scrolled through your phone. This time, a blonde young toddler was seen in a car seat looking disgusted. Jumin read the caption and somehow had to chuckle, but it was odd that people really had time for this.

,,You know! We should invite Zen, Yoosung, Seven and Jaehee. I have a game that’s called ,,’What do you MEME?’ and I think that it could help you to understand memes better!’’ you called out. Well, without waiting for an answer you quickly wrote the RFA what you were planning and… Well, they all had different reactions…

New Chat opened - Help Jumin Han to understand Memes

Mc: Guys, come here and play ,,What would you meme?’’ with us. I just found out that my hubby doesn’t know what memes are

707: on my way

this is gong to be funny

going

Yoosung: I should study but…

I NEED TO RELAX TOO

I’ll come

707: I’ll come and pick you up yoosung boyyy

I will be able to play with elly

Mc: we will keep her save in our room and go downstairs so that Zen doesn’t get an allergic reaction ;)

Zen: You care about me… you should leave him. He doesn’t even know what memes are

Jaehee: Zen, you should care about your career…

besides it’s not nice to try to manipulate a married woman

I will come. I need to analyze this game too

Mc: come here quickly you all :)

MC left the chat

And so it was that you quickly prepared some snacks, took out your old game, and waited for your friends to arrive. When everyone arrived, you finally took your game and mixed the two different samples of cards. ,,I will begin!’’ you giggled happily, making Jumin look more at you than paying attention to the game ,,When u realize that the song u always keep skipping is actually fire,’’ you said and then pulled another card, pulling that one with the house on fire. The RFA and you began to laugh and managed to make Jumin have fun too, as well as possibly understand the game and memes a bit better.

,,When ur parents say that you spend too much time on the phone,’’ Zen said and pulled a card ,,This one fits perfectly,’’ he said, turning over the card, making Yoosung clap in agreement. It was indeed a nice evening and everyone enjoyed playing with you and Jumin. Jumin himself noticed that he would like to play that game once again… The evening passed and you were on Jumin’s lap, your arms around his neck as you nuzzled your head on his soft skin, inhaling his manly scent. ,,I want some kisses, some ,,you did well kisses,’’ he mumbled. And whatever he wanted, you gave it to him, kissing him with all your love, hugging him even tighter as if you would fall off any second…

The next morning you woke up, Jumin already left, but a chat was opened by him. The next chat already explained what happened.

Zen: I think our hard work was in vain. The trust fund kid still doesn’t know how to make a meme.

Yoosung: Mc, you’re beautiful while you sleep, lolol

707: That’s against privacy. Should I call the police for you?

Zen: They will put him in prison for failing at making meme, not taking a pic of his wife.

Mc: *inserts a picture of a puppy with an angry face saying ,,when dumb people make fun of your husband*

And then you left the chat.

It didn’t take long until Jumin came home that night and hugged you for a long time, embarrassed by what he did, but you could make him feel better by hugging him, rubbing his back and giving him a lot of kisses on his nose, cheek, lips and eyes.

,,Maybe we should use vines,’’ you smiled and showed him the app with the funny videos.

The next failure was soon to come.

Jumin: ,,Welcome to Radio T T T T T T T T T T ARGET,’’

Yoosung: I think…

Vines are still too difficult for you, Mr Han XD

Zen: This… Mc, please, do something

707: I should give you a lesson

Mc: I think that my husband is perfect the way he is. I think it’s funny

With that you once again climbed on top of your husband and kissed him deeply on his lips because it was okay. ,,You’re special. This makes it funnier,’’ you laughed and hugged him, putting your head on his chest.

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

05.04.2021// 12:31 MEST

#jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #mystic messenger jumin #zen hyun ryu #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #Vanderwood #saeran choi #jihyun kim #fanfiction #fanfic #mm fanfic #Headcanon #Mm headcanons #mystic messeger headcanon #meme culture

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juggernaut-sika · 3 years

Text

There You Are

Prompt: Y/n and Turtle were separated for several years for reasons they couldn't help. They finally find each other and have a heartfelt reunion.

Warning(s): Reader being injured, mutated, and held against her will.

So I've had this idea brewing in my head for a little while and wanted to write it out so thank you @redfoxgaming41 for requesting this one! And holy crap this is the longest I've written in a while.

The story

During the battle with Kraang, you had been injured badly and had to be airlifted to Mayo Clinic - Rochester, Minnesota to receive proper care. It was a long and grueling trip but you were transported safely and immediately taken into a prepped room. Many doctors were on your case, making sure you received the best care available. However, throughout the weeks of taking care of you, they noticed how quick a recovery you were making which astounded them.

The astonishment had been short-lived after a while as the doctors noticed, not only were you healing quickly but your appearance was changing as well. It first started with the texture of your skin becoming rougher and...scaley? Then the pigment of your skin began to turn a/an s/c color. Your back became hardened and formed what the doctors described to be a shell-like appearance. Growing fearful, they contacted someone to examine you.

Your eyes fluttered open as you stirred from your induced coma, your vision slowly clearing from the blurriness that glazed your eyes. Your brows furrowed in confusion. Where were you? The last thing you remember was being moved into a helicopter before you passed out. "She's awake, Ma'am." A feminine voice broke through the silence of the room. Then, through your blurred vision, you could see someone walk up to the bed you were in. You shook your head to shake the blurriness away and see who was standing next to you. "Where am I?" You asked, eyes trailing up as your blurred vision finally cleared.

Standing beside you was a black-haired woman. Her ebony skin glowed in the white lights of the room as she gave you a soft smile. "You're in the recovery room. You had a long trip, Y/n." Her voice was just a soft as her smile and brought a sense of calmness to you until something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. You glance down at your hand, your eyes widen with shock as you lifted them and sat up. "W-w-what-what is-what happened to me?" Your voice was almost frantic as you looked over your body. The heart monitor beeped quickly as you began panting. "Now, calm down Y/n! Just calm down." The woman and her assistant pushed you down into the bed so you wouldn't do anything drastic.

"We're not exactly sure what has happened to you but we're running some blood tests to find out why." She said in hopes of calming you down. Then she cleared her throat and straightened herself. "I apologize, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Dr.Blood," She gestured to herself as she said this, "And this is my assistant, nurse Robin." Dr.Blood then gestured to a woman who looked down at you with a friendly smile. You looked from Robin and back at the doctor. "Doctor.....Blood?" You questioned. Blood chuckled at your quizzical look. "I know, it's an odd last name, but yes." She gave you a sweet smile before taking a deep breath. "You seem lively and healthy enough to move about. Robin could please go get her something to eat and drink?" Dr.Blood requested. "Yes, Ma'am." Giving you one last smile, Robing turned on her heels and left the room, leaving you and Dr.Blood alone.

"I'm aware that I'm in recovery but where am I exactly?" You asked looking away from the doors to Dr.Blood. Blood seemed to swallow hard before taking another deep breath. "Unfortunately, I can't disclose that information to you. When you were examined at the hospital you were immediately transported here in secrecy." She explained. "You mean no one knows where I am?" You gave her a stern look as you sat up. "As far as anyone knows, you are still in Rochester, Minnesota." Her voice was calm as she gave you this information. "You have no right keeping me here! You will let me go!" Jabbing a finger in her direction, you glared at her. "That isn't my call to make, Y/n. I'm sorry, my job is only to make sure you're healthy." Her eyes were apologetic as she gave you a sad look.

Six Years Later

You sat in your bed with your sketchbook, drawing yourself in your mirror before sighing as boredom crawled its way up your body. Leaning into your half-circle of a bed, your finger now tapping the scribbled page. Your eyes glance over at your digital clock with a hint of nervousness in them. It was almost time for another painful examination. Throughout the years you've been living here, you and Dr.Blood had grown close. She did all in her power to make sure you were comfortable not only during your examinations but in your life here. She was one of the nicer people you've met here, other than Robin, someone who didn't treat you like an abomination. And when someone stepped out of line or over a boundary towards you, she was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn't only like this with you, though, she cared for all of the patients in this facility even if they weren't her's to care for.

On days you were going through a depression, Dr.Blood would try to make time to come see you or even send Robin to give you company. Both Robin and Blood felt bad, knowing you most likely would never get out of here and back home to the ones you cared about. The thought affected Robin so much she had to take time off to breathe and recollect. What no one, not even you for that matter, knew that the two of them had a plan. A plan to get you out of the facility and back into society. They knew you couldn't just join the world again. You still had to be kept in secret, but anywhere would be better than rotting away in this facility.

"Knock, knock!" Robin's chirpy voice sang as she walked into your room. "Hey, Robin." A soft smile made its way onto your face while you stood from your bed to follow her. "Things are going to be a little different today so I just need you to not freak out and just follow me." Her voice was professional as it usually always was when she wasn't on break or spending time with you. "Alright." You reply with a raised brow, your smile never dimming. You then left your room, right behind Robin; however, something seemed a little off about her today. Her pace was a lot quicker and she walked a bit more straight. You were still able to keep up with her as you glanced at the room you were always lead to for your examinations.

A sense of anxiety began to fill your chest when Robin led you into an unfamiliar part of the facility. There was no one else to be seen, no patients, no doctors or nurses. Even the smell was different from the chemical smells that lingered in the wing you stayed in. "Hey, Robin...where are we going?" You asked with uncertainty. "Sh." She hushed you quickly. As you two walked in silence a familiar smell entered your nose. It was an all too familiar smell and it was stronger with your heightened senses. The outside world was close. Just then Dr.Blood rounded a corner. She looked to be in a hurry as she took long strides towards the two of you. "The boat is ready and so is the cargo plane. We need to hurry, though, c'mon!" Her voice was frantic but determined. Her hand found its way onto your shell and Robin's back, ushering you two along at a faster pace. "W-what's going on?" Confusion coated your voice while you looked down at her. "I'll explain later. Right now we need to get you onto that boat. I've already bribed the officers and the sailors." She said as you guys walked through heavy plated doors to be met with a loaded dock and the roaring of an ocean as waves crashed against the shoreline.

"C'mon, in here Y/n!" Robin called to you, and the two women moved you into a large cargo crate. "At least tell me where I'm going!" You call out to them. "Here! It's a list of places we are going to make sure you aren't found! Hopefully, it will give you some peace until I can explain later!" Blood hollered over the sudden rain and thunder. She tucked her hair behind her ear as the heavy wind blew. Robin and Blood then closed the doors to the crate and locked it but not after Robin gave you a flashlight so you could see. Silence filled the metal box, the sounds of heavy winds, pouring rain, and roaring thunder all muffed by the cold metal walls.

A sigh escapes your lips when you turn the light on. You back up into a corner and sit down as you looked over the list of states Dr.Blood wrote out in her neat handwriting. Ten states were listed but only one stood out to you, New York. Excitement fluttered in your chest but you knew it was going to be a while before you got there, seeing as it was the last state listed. You knew it was going to be stressful but you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

Eleven Months Later

"Well, today's the day Y/n! You're finally going home!" Dr.Blood said as she patted the steering wheel with her hands. A big smile was plastered on her face as she talked to you over the phone. "I can't believe we did it!" Robin bounced in her seat excitedly and looked at Dr.Blood. A laugh escaped your lip as you sat in the horse trailer. "I'm excited too but I'm not celebrating until we get there." You chuckle, looking down at the phone in your hand. A sigh then escapes your mouth as the thought of how the turtles and April would react when they see you. How would you even go about showing yourself to them anyway? It's been almost seven years, would they even remember you? A pang of sorrow hit you at the thought of them forgetting about you, especially t/n. Over the time you two knew each other you grew feelings for him.

"What's up, Y/n?" Dr.Blood's voice asked through the speaker. "Oh, uh...it's nothing. I'm just worried about how they'd react is all...or if they even remember me." You replied. When you were traveling everywhere, you became comfortable enough to tell Dr.Blood and Robin about the others and that most of the police force knew as well and were on their side. You knew what you were from the moment you woke up at the facility but it still puzzled you. "Six years is a long time but that was such a big event that happened, I don't think they could ever forget you," Robin said, "If anything, I'd imagine them more likely to take you in." She added. Her words gave you a little hope, bringing a soft smile to your lips.

The rest of the car ride was quiet. When you made it to the airport, you were transferred to a cargo box. It was a bit snugger but not uncomfortable. You sat in the dark with your eyes closed, feelings of excitement and nervousness taking turns occupying your mind. Dr.Blood had informed the chief of police, Rebecca Vincent about you and that you were being transferred to New York. Vincent along with other officers were going to meet you all at the airport to make sure everything went smoothly.

It was a little bumpy getting off but you made it safely. "This is her?" Vincent asked as she looked the metal box up and down. "Yes, is everyone ready?" You heard Dr.Blood reply. "Alright, let's get a move on people!" Vincent called out as the door to the crate opened making you gulp as light began to fill the box. "Okay, Y/n, c'mon," Robin said grabbing your hand and leading you to a large police van. You hurriedly jumped inside and took a seat as the doors behind you closed. The medics inside the van checked you out to make sure you were in good health. "Okay, sweetie just look at me." A female said as she checked your eyes.

Thirty Minutes in

"Alright, well you seem to be in good health." The male gave you a small smile and took a seat adjacent to you. "Thanks. How long until we get to our destination?" You ask. Suddenly, a loud thud came from the top of the van causing your head to dart up. "What was that?" You asked. "The heroes of New York." The female medic stated with a side smile. "They got here quick." The guy mumbled glancing up at the ceiling then back at you. "Well, I'm sure Chef Vincent would have informed them about her arrival." The female replied, taking a seat beside you.

One Hour Later

"How much longer?" You huffed, now pacing to get your blood flowing. "Not much longer, about another five minutes. Chef wanted to make sure absolutely no one would see you." Addy, the female medic, replied, drawing another sigh from you. You sat down again, resting your cheek in your palm.

With Dr.Blood

"For the last time, she's being escorted to a secluded spot chef Vincent set out. Y/n is safe, no one knows about her besides the escort team." Dr.Blood repeated for the fifth time tonight after Raph questioned her about your situation again. "And Leo. He just hopped on the van now." Donnie pipped up after reviewing his tracker. "Where they at?" Raph asked walking over to Donnie to look at the tracker. "Dr.Blood, Vincent called. She said we should head out now." Robin informed after she strode into the room. "Alright boys, let's go!" Raph said with a growing smiling.

They all headed out, Robin and Blood took a car, and the guys followed Donnie as they hopped along the buildings in Leo's direction.

With You

You lifted your head, excitement slowly building as the van came to a slow stop. Standing up, you were ready to jump out and finally reunite with your friends. "Hold on there. We gotta wait for the other units to secure the perimeter before we let you out." The male medic, Rick said as he placed a hand on your shoulder. "Why? I'm ready." You argued glancing at him and the metal doors. "We know you are. When we get the orders we'll let you out." Addy said as Rick opened one of the doors and hopped out.

A low rumble came from you as you grew impatient. Your reptilian growl took you by surprise for a moment since you were still getting used to the new sounds you can make. Another hour had passed and the order still hasn't been given. Just as you were about to say something, a voice came over Addy's walkie. It was difficult for you to make out but Addy's smile gave you hope. "You ready?" She asked, her smile growing. "I've been ready!" You reply almost desperately. She walked over to one of the doors and opened it, hopping down before Rick opened the other door.

The cool soft feeling of dirt met your feet as you hopped out of the van. You took a few steps forward spinning a bit as you look around for your friends. "W-where are they?" You asked. You seen officers everywhere but no sign of your friends. "They're around, probably trying to find you. Just stay here and someone will lead them over here." Rick said, crossing his arms and leaning against the van. "Y/n?" You turn quickly hearing April's familiar voice. "April!" Relief and happiness fill you when your gaze lands on your friend. You both embrace each other. "Wow, when they said you changed a lot...they really meant it." She said before pulling away and looking you up and down.

"Y-yeah, I still don't know how it happened." You say, rubbing the back of your neck. "Where are the guys?" You look around again. "I believe they're talking with Vincent at the moment. She's probably filling them in on the situation. Dr.Blood was pretty vague when she explained it." April said, following your gaze. "Casey and Vern?" You look at her. "With the guys." She replied. You sigh again while shifting your weight. "How have you been. I hope nothing...besides this has happened." April asked, gesturing toward your mutant turtle body. "It's a long story." You say in a tired voice.

Just then you caught a glimpse of the brothers. They were still talking with chief Vincent, unaware that you were only a few meters away. "There they are!" You say. Anxiety seemed to creep up your spine as your hands began to tremble. April wrapped her arm around yours in an attempt to calm you down. You shared a smile with her before looking back up.

Leo

I kept myself composed as I listened to chef Vincent speak but on the inside, I just wanted to see her. For the past six years, I wondered if I'd ever see her again, and then yesterday, out of the blue, some doctor calls claiming to have Y/n in her care. I was skeptical at first but now, with all these officers around, it feels more real than ever. "To put it simply, Y/n has been turned into a mutant." Vincent's words snap me out of my thoughts immediately. "Come again?" Donnie asked. I could hear the puzzlement in his voice. My brothers and I all glance at each other before looking back at Vincent. "And the doctor couldn't have told us that when we were at the station?" Raph growled, his voice having a hint of anger.

"Relax Raph, at least she's alive and well bro." Mikey pipped in trying to calm our brother down. "Um, if you don't mind me asking chief, what kind of mutant?" Donnie asked as he adjusted his glasses. "A turtle....like you guys." We all look over to see the short brunette, Robin, from the station. "Where's Dr.Blood." Raph huffed as he shifted his weight. "Unfortunately, Dr.Blood had to go incognito much more early than we hoped. I'll have to do the same when this is all over and done with. The facility Y/n was kept in found our trail just a few minutes ago. It'll take them a while to find out that she's in New York so we have a team creating a fake trail from New York to many other locations."

"A facility? What else did that doctor forget to leave out." Robin gulped at Raph's rising temper. "Raph, that's enough. We'll worry about that later." I said, getting a grunt from him. "Where's Y/n now?" I look to Vincent as I ask. "Follow me. She's over here." Vincent said walking off to her left. We followed behind but it didn't take long before we slowed to a stop upon seeing Y/n. She was talking with April. "Y/n?" I asked. Her attention was pulled towards us as soon as she heard me. "Guys." Her voice was soft and a bit shaky. Even in the dim light, I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Y/n!" Mikey cried out excitedly as he ran towards her. He caught her in a bear hug, picking her up and spinning her around.

"I thought I'd never see you guys again!" My heart broke slightly hearing her cry into Mikey's shoulder. Donnie wasted no more time in joining the hug. Raph seemed hesitant at first but followed Donnie's lead as he hugged Y/n and our two little brothers. After a few seconds, I walked over, a smile on my face as I joined the group hug. We stayed like that for a moment before separating. I watched as Y/n wiped the tears from her face before looking over my brothers. Mikey had his signature grin, Donnie was also wiping tears from his eyes and Raph was doing all he could not to cry.

"Sooo, what now?" Mikey asked looking over at me. Before I could answer, we heard Vincent speak up. "Well, the sun will be coming up soon. I suggest you all head back to the sewers." I nod in agreement. "C'mon guys, let's go," I tell them, taking the lead.

Back at the Lair

When we entered I called out to Sensei to let him know we were back. It didn't take him long to emerge. I looked behind me to see Raph helping Y/n down then looked down as Sensai walked past me and towards Y/n. He looked at her for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a firm embrace. "It is nice to finally have you back my dear!" A hint of strain could be heard in his shaky voice after she hugged him. "It's good to be back, Spinter." She replied. Sensai then pulled away with a soft look in his eyes. "You must be exhausted. It would be best if we all got some rest."

After Y/n got settled into her new room I knocked on her open door. She turned her head towards me before giving me a soft smile. "Can I come in?" I ask, returning the smiling. "Yeah." She nodded. As I walked in, I was sure to close the door behind me. I walked over to her. As I did, the feelings deep inside of me were quickly rising like a roaring flame. I couldn't control them any longer. "What is i-" I cut her off, my hands cupping her cheeks as I push my lips to hers. My hands slipped behind her head as she returned the kiss.

"You have no idea how hard it's been. When you didn't come back and we went to Minnesota to look for you but when Donnie could no longer trace you...I thought you were gone. I thought I'd never get to see you again. The thought of me never have gotten to say goodbye almost killed me." I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, making me close them while my brows furrowed. "I felt the same way. So many doctors and nurses told me I would never get to leave. That I was going to be stuck there for the rest of my life." I opened my eyes, her thumbs brushing my tears away. "I will never let that happen to you again...I promise." My voice was firm now.

"I believe you." Her arms wrapped around my neck as she closed her eyes and gently nuzzled her nose to mine before I bumped my forehead to hers.

Raph

I paced back and forth as I grew tired of waiting to see her. Why did they have to put them through all this just to reunite with their friend? It made no sense to him and frankly pissed him off. "To put it simply, she's a mutant." I stopped in my tracks at Vincent's words. I glanced at my brothers sharing the same puzzled look. "Come again?" Donnie asked while messing with his glasses. "And the doctor couldn't have told us that when we were at the station?" I almost bark as a deep rumble emitted from my chest.

"Relax Raph, at least she's alive and well bro." I gave Mikey a glance as he bumped his elbow to mine. "Um, if you don't mind me asking chief, what kind of mutant?" Donnie asked as he adjusted his glasses. "A turtle....like you guys." We all look over to see the short brunette, Robin, from the station. "Where's Dr.Blood." I huffed, shifting my weight. "Unfortunately, Dr.Blood had to go incognito much more early than we hoped. I'll have to do the same when this is all over and done with. The facility Y/n was kept in found our trail just a few minutes ago. It'll take them a while to find out that she's in New York so we have a team creating a fake trail from New York to many other locations."

"A facility? What else did that doctor forget to leave out." I could see Robin tense at my harsh tone but I didn't care, my blood was beginning to boil at the thought of Y/n possibly being experimented on. "Raph, that's enough. We'll worry about that later." Leo said. I let out a grunt and roll my eyes. "Where's Y/n now?" We look to Vincent as Leo asked. "Follow me. She's over here." Vincent said walking off to her left. We followed behind but it didn't take long before we slowed to a stop upon seeing Y/n. She was talking with April. "Y/n?" Leo said. I watch as her attention was pulled towards us as soon as she heard him. "Guys." Her voice was soft and a bit shaky. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her lip quiver. "Y/n!" Mikey cried out excitedly as he ran towards her. He caught her in a bear hug, picking her up and spinning her around.

My heart was breaking, seeing her and hearing her voice. "I thought I'd never see you guys again!" She cried into Mikey's shoulder. Donnie followed Mikey joining the hug. I hesitated but the feeling of wanting to comfort her was too much. I allowed my emotions to control my movements and joined my little brothers. Leo eventually joined in too. We stayed like that for a moment before separating. I watched as Y/n wiped the tears from her face.

"Sooo, what now?" Mikey asked looking over at Leo. "Well, the sun will be coming up soon. I suggest you all head back to the sewers." Vincent suggested. "C'mon guys, let's go," Leo said before we all headed for the nearest manhole.

Back at the Lair

I helped Y/n down as Leo called for Sensai. When I looked up toward Leo, Sensai was already walking past him until he stopped in front of Y/n. He looked at her for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug. "It is nice to finally have you back my dear!" I could hear the relief and sadness in his voice as he held her. "It's good to be back, Spinter." She replied. Sensai then pulled away with a soft look in his eyes. "You must be exhausted. It would be best if we all got some rest."

I took Y/n to the guest room we prepared and helped her get settled in. As I was about to take my leave something stopped me. A part of me pulling me back to her. I look over my shoulder, seeing her stroke the soft fabric of her blanket while one of her arms hugged herself. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turn towards her. "Y/n?" I question as I walked up to her. She turned around to look at me, her e/c eyes locking with my emerald ones. I took a deep breath before letting out a heavy sigh.

"We....I really missed ya." My hand finds her's as I look down at the floor. "I had no clue on what happened to ya. I knew you was hurt but not having-to-be-airlifted-to-a-different-state hurt. Ya know, I thought after a month you'd come back but when you didn't we went lookin for ya. I thought something bad happened to ya when you weren't there and Donnie couldn't find a single trace of ya." I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that stung my eyes. Feeling Y/n's hand on my cheek, I look back up. "I never thought I would get out of that facility and see you guys again. I just wanted to shrink away into nothing so when I realized Robin and Dr.Blood were getting me out I was ecstatic. I was afraid you all would have forgotten about me after almost seven years."

"Well, no one is ever goin to hurt ya again. Not while I'm breathin!" I state, pulling her closer to me. Our foreheads met, "Plus..." I say, inching closer, "I love ya." My voice was just above a whisper. I didn't care if she felt the same way or not. I needed to let her know how I felt. My hands slid up to cup her cheeks, my thumbs gently wiping her tears away. A breathless laugh came from her as she looked up at me. "I love you too, Raph." She choked out, more tears streaming down her face. I then pulled her into me, closing the gap between us until our lips met. I couldn't help the tears that soaked my mask and stained my cheeks. She's all I care about.

Donnie

"Come again?" I asked when chief Vincent said Y/n was a mutant. So many thoughts ran through my mind, everyone else's voice being drowned out. "Um, if you don't mind me asking chief, what kind of mutant?" I asked, adjusting my glasses a bit. "A turtle....like you guys." We all look over to see Robin walking up. "Where's Dr.Blood." I look over at Raph who was becoming huffy. "Unfortunately, Dr.Blood had to go incognito much more early than we hoped. I'll have to do the same when this is all over and done with. The facility Y/n was kept in found our trail just a few minutes ago. It'll take them a while to find out that she's in New York so we have a team creating a fake trail from New York to many other locations."

Again, my mind raced. 'She was kept at a facility? I'll have to ask about that later. If anyone was going to make sure Y/n stays safe, it's me.' I thought to myself. "Raph, that's enough. We'll worry about that later." Leo said, pulling me from my thoughts. "Where's Y/n now?" Leo asked. "Follow me. She's over here." Vincent said walking off to her left. We followed behind but it didn't take long before we slowed to a stop upon seeing Y/n. She and April seemed to be having a conversation until Leo spoke up. "Y/n?" He asked. I watch as her attention was pulled towards us as soon as she heard him. "Guys." Her voice was soft and a bit shaky. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes as she took a breath. "Y/n!" Mikey cried out excitedly as he ran towards her. He caught her in a bear hug, picking her up and spinning her around.

I couldn't contain my excitement either as I wasn't far behind Mikey. We both hugged her tightly as Raph and then Leo joined the hug. Everything seemed to drown out when we separated. All the sounds becoming muffled as my attention focused on her. "C'mon guys, let's go," Leo said. I shook my head as I followed my brothers and Y/n to a nearby manhole where we disappeared into the shadows.

Back at the Lair

Time seemed to fly by, everyone but me was asleep. I got in contact with Robin who was happy to fill me in on everything. I went straight to work, creating a system that would make an endless trail of places Y/n could possibly be. I also took it upon myself to erase whatever digital records the facility had on her which seemed to be most of the information about her. I sighed, feeling relieved that Y/n would be safe. My fingers lightly tapped on the arms of my chair. I turned in my seat to look in the direction of Y/n's room and perked up a bit when I noticed her light still on. I stood and walked over.

"Still awake I see." I lightly smile at her as I walk towards her. "Oh, yeah. I guess I'm just not as tired as I thought I was." She said, her e/c eyes look at me. "Well, rest a sure, darling, you no longer have to worry about the facility finding you. I took the liberty of making sure of that." I inform while I took a seat on the floor next to her. 'Wait.....did I just call her darling?' I mentally slap myself for it but keep cool but the look she gave me says she caught it. "Ehm, s-so uh....It's been a long and interesting night." I say rubbing the back of my neck while my cheeks heat up. "Yeah." She giggled at me. "It has." She added before leaning into me. Instinctively, my arm wraps around her. Her head rested on my shoulder as she sighs.

"Listen, Y/n. I think this is a better time than never to tell you," I sigh and lean forward, my forearms resting on my thighs as I slouch, "I....really like you." I turn my head to the side to look at her. "You do?" She tilted her head before a small smile found its way onto her face. "If it's too much right now the-" "No, it's not because I like you too, Donnie." She cut me off, placing a gentle hand on my bicep. A smile spread across my face before I leaned closer to her. "Then...I hope you don't mind me doing this." I whisper before planting a tender kiss on her lips. I feel her hands wrap around my neck as she returned the gesture of affection.

I found myself pulling her into my lap, the kiss turning more passionate. We separated, looking into each other's eyes. "I won't let anyone harm you ever again. I promise, Y/n."

Mikey

"Relax Raph, at least she's alive and well bro." I nudge trying to keep the mood light. Sure she was kidnapped but at least she's back now. "Um, if you don't mind me asking chief, what kind of mutant?" Donnie asked as he adjusted his glasses. "A turtle....like you guys." We all look over to see that cute nurse, Robin, from the station. "Where's Dr.Blood," Raph said while he shifted from one foot to the other. "Unfortunately, Dr.Blood had to go incognito much more early than we hoped. I'll have to do the same when this is all over and done with. The facility Y/n was kept in found our trail just a few minutes ago. It'll take them a while to find out that she's in New York so we have a team creating a fake trail from New York to many other locations."

"A facility? What else did that doctor forget to leave out." I looked back at Raph who seemed about ready to lose his temper. "Raph, that's enough. We'll worry about that later." Leo said. Raph let out a grunt and rolled his eyes at our older brother. "Where's Y/n now?" We look to Vincent as Leo asked. "Follow me. She's over here." Vincent said walking off to her left. We followed behind but it didn't take long before we slowed to a stop upon seeing Y/n. The excitement when I saw her practically boiled over. "Y/n?" Leo said. I watch as her attention was pulled towards us as soon as she heard him. "Guys." Her voice was soft and a bit shaky. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her lip quiver. "Y/n!" I cried out excitedly and ran towards her. I couldn't bear seeing her so emotional. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, picked her up, and spun her around.

"I thought I'd never see you guys again!" She cried as she returned the tight hug. My brothers soon joined the hug. We stayed like that for a moment before separating. I watched as Y/n wiped the tears from her face. "Sooo, what now?" I asked looking over my shoulder at Leo while I held Y/n gently. "Well, the sun will be coming up soon. I suggest you all head back to the sewers." Vincent suggested. I looked at chef Vincent before looking back at Leo. "C'mon guys, let's go," Leo said before we all headed back home.

Back at the Lair

After Raph went to bed after helping Y/n get settled in, I happily strode into in to wish her goodnight. "Hey, Y/n!" I chirp and catch her gaze. When our eyes locked, I suddenly felt sheepish. "U-um, I just want to uh...wish you goodnight. We got a lot of catching up to do tomorrow!" I say, trying to keep up my happy-go-lucky tune, bumping her arm with mine. "Thanks, Mikey but are you okay?" She asked tilting her head at me. "Y-yeah, of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" I reply. 'Crap she's good.' I think to myself. "Because you aren't usually this nervous." The sound of her giggles filled the room and made my heart flutter. "Is there something both-" I couldn't help it anymore. My arm slipped around her waist as I pulled her into a deep kiss. "I really like you, okay? That's what's bothering me." I admit when we separate.

A smile replaced the shock on her now soft face. "I really like you too, Mikey. I always have." Her silky voice flooded my ears, my nervousness dissipating at her words. I was probably grinning like an idiot but I didn't care. She's all that matters to me at this moment. "Goodnight, Mikey." She said, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. "Goodnight, Y/n," I reply before leaving her room. I closed her door on my way out and walked over to Raph's and my shared room. "Yes, yes, yes!" I fist pumped and whisper shouted as to not wake Raph up. I then flop onto my bed a dumb smile on my face. "I can't wait for tomorrow."

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cordria · 4 years

Text

Science

“What… the hell… are you doing?” Sam asked, pausing next to the boys at the park.

“Science,” Danny answered seriously. He had a notebook in his lap open to a page filled with some sort of data table, a pencil behind his ear, ectoplasm stains on his shirt, and surrounded by dozens of little blob ghosts. They crawled across his lap, played in the grass, and climbed his shirt. From far away, it almost looked like he was playing with kittens. Glowing, headless kittens.

Sam looked around. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to what was going on. The boys had chosen a spot near the trees where they were surrounded by small hills, making them hard to spot from far away. But still. “Science?” she asked.

“For sure,” Tucker said. He was lounging a half-dozen feet away from the ghost pile, holding the Fenton Thermos in his hands and blinking up at her with a confused look on his face. “Don’t you have a science project to do?”

“Yes,” Sam said, dragging the word out, still trying to figure out what was going on. “But…” She looked around again. How was nobody noticing this?

“But what?” Danny grinned at her, snatching up one of the blob ghosts that was trying to chew on his ear and holding it out to her. “Want one?”

Sam set down her backpack on the grass and knelt down, a cautious distance away from the ghosts, ready to get up and run at a moment’s notice. “No.”

“That’s too bad. It’s a cute one,” Danny said, tickling the little ghost. The blob curled up into a tighter ball at the touch, then started sending out little tentacles to curl around his finger.

After a few seconds of silence, Sam shook her head. “I still don’t get it. What are you doing?”

“I told you,” Danny said, “science. Our project.”

Sam turned to Tucker with a blank look. Danny often made odd mental leaps of logic when it came to ghosts that he couldn’t explain - likely something to do with his partly-ghost status - and perhaps this was one of those times.

“Oh, come on Sam, your class got the project too,” Tucker said. “We all have to run an experiment, right? Collect and analyze data?” He gestured towards Danny. “That’s what we’re doing.”

“You’re in the park, with ghosts, running a science experiment?”

“Yes,” Danny said. “That’s what I said.”

Sam was quiet. “How did you guys end up partners anyway? We got assigned partners.”

“Chocolate,” Danny said, leaning forwards with a grin that had a little too much ghostly sharpness to it. No doubt his eyes would be glowing green if they weren’t in such bright sunlight. “Two extra-large bars. And an explanation that we wanted to do this, of course, and why it couldn’t be someone else.”

“I still don’t know what this is!” Sam said.

“It’s our science experiment!” Danny shot back. “We’ve said that now, like, three times.”

Sam sighed and let it drop, pretty convinced she wasn’t going to get an answer. Tucker cocked his head at her, and she just waved her hand. “You do your… whatever. I’ll watch.”

“Trial four,” Danny said, pulling his pencil out from behind his ear and writing in his notebook. “Ready?”

Tucker hoisted the Thermos. “Ready.” The end of the Thermos glowed an eerie green.

With a movement that was a bit too quick for a human, Danny snatched one of the blob ghosts and tossed it into the air. “One.” Tucker activated the Thermos when the ghost was at the top of the arc, pulling it in. Danny marked on his paper. “Two,” he said, throwing another blob ghost. Again it was pulled in, the paper was marked, and the process was repeated over and over.

Sam slowly sat down, crossing her legs and allowing herself to relax. It was hard with all the ghosts around. Now and then she glanced around, but nobody seemed to be aware of what they were doing.

“Eleven,” Danny called, hiking the ghost into the air. Tucker pulled it into the Thermos, and the device let out a beep. “And… it’s full.” Danny wrote on his paper, still covered in several dozen ghosts. He frowned. “I really thought this thing would hold more.”

“I thought you knew how much the Thermos held,” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I have a rough guess,” Danny said with a shrug. “But does it hold the same amount each time? And how does the power level of the ghost affect it? And,” he dug around in a backpack, shooing little ghosts away, “then we have this.” He pulled out a new Thermos. This one was quite a bit smaller and had a black and white color scheme, instead of the normal grey and green.

“What’s that?” Sam held out her hand.

Danny tossed it to her. “My parents built it. Fenton Thermos version… something. Four, I think. I want to see if it holds more.”

Sam turned it around in her hands. It was several inches shorter, and the radius was nearly half what the original was. “It’s cute,” she said. “Does it work?”

“Of course it works,” Danny said, wiggling his fingers in a request for it back. Sam tossed it to him. “My parents built it.”

“How much does the original one hold?”

“Eleven level one ghosts this time,” Danny said. “147 GEUs.”

Sam wasn’t going to ask. She didn’t want to go back down the black hole path of her first question. But it came out anyways. “GEUs?”

“Ghost energy units,” Danny said. “I made it up. Sounds scientific, doesn’t it?”

Sam nodded. “Why…?”

“See,” Danny said, “the first time we ran this experiment, it held twelve ghosts. The second time it held only eight. I couldn’t figure out why there was such a difference. So obviously we needed a unit of measurement that was smaller than ‘ghosts’.”

“Obviously,” Tucker added, “like we didn’t have to email the teacher and ask what to do.”

Danny grinned at him. “And obviously there’s no existing unit for something smaller than ‘ghost’-”

“Obviously,” Tucker inserted, “like we didn’t call your parents and ask.”

Danny waved the other boy off, “So I made one up. I went through all the ghosts, and gave them numbers based on how much power they have. See,” he snatched up two ghosts. “These are both level one ghosts - technically - but this one,” he shook the ghost in his right hand, “is twice as powerful as this one,” he gestured towards his left hand. “So I decided that this one,” he held up the right ghost again, “will have 6 GEUs and the other will have 12.”

“He’s condensing hours and hours and hours of trial and error here,” Tucker added. “We started this a week ago. We’re on the sixth run-through of this.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And all without my knowledge.”

Danny nodded. “Yes, Ms Save The Earth Club. All without your knowledge.”

“You digging on my club?” Sam asked with a scowl.

“Of course not,” Danny said quickly. “But you’re missing the cute ghosts, trying to clean up a creek nobody seems to care about.”

“Cute,” Tucker muttered, “is an opinion.”

Danny frowned at him. “And that is why they don’t like you.”

“Yes, it’s got nothing to do with the fact that I’m sucking them into a Thermos.”

“And people care about the creek,” Sam said as Tucker reversed the Thermos and dumped the blobs back into Danny’s lab. “I had seven people show up today; we got another hundred feet clean. The creek’s important, and the word is getting out.” She sighed. “It would help if you two would show up.”

“Science project,” the two chimed at the same time.

Sam shook her head and leaned back. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” Tucker said. He turned to Danny. “Are we getting consistent data this time?”

“Pretty close,” Danny said, sticking the end of his pencil in his mouth and pushing a few of the blob ghosts off his notebook. “This was 147 GEUs. The last time was 148. Time before that was 146.” He frowned down at the paper. “According to my mom, theoretically, the Thermos should hold exactly the same amount each time. So either her theory is wrong-”

“Well that never happens,” Tucker inserted sarcastically.

“-or we don’t have small enough units.” Danny’s mouth twisted. “Maybe we should reorganize the unit measurement and start over. Maybe...” He wrote something in his notebook.

“We’ve been doing this for a week,” Tucker said. “I vote against starting over. We’re getting good enough data for this project.”

Danny hesitated.

Sam smirked. “You’re too like your mom. Got a thought in your brain and don’t want to give it up until it’s perfect.”

Danny scowled at her, pulling a ghost blob off his shoulder. “Am not. I just think if we did it… one more… time…” he trailed off, realizing his mother had said something similar a hundred times in his life - usually as an answer to the question of why supper wasn’t ready yet. The scowl turned into a dark frown. “Fine. You win that one.”

“So let’s wrap this up,” Tucker said, “and go catch a movie. We can do all the data analysis in class.”

It took Danny a few more seconds of staring down at his paper to say, “Okay. But let’s do the other thermos before we get going. If I followed my mom’s explanation about compression ratios and programming, this new Thermos should hold the same number of ghosts, even though it’s smaller.”

“Ghost energy units,” Tucker corrected.

“Well, yeah.” Danny said. “Catch.” He threw the new black and white Thermos at Tucker. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Tucker said. He positioned the new Thermos in his hands and thumbed the switch. The end glowed.

Danny hefted the first blob into the air. “One,” he called as it was sucked in.

“Why’d your parents change the colors on the Thermos, anyways?” Sam asked, leaning back on her hand and watching, mostly wondering how Danny had managed to smuggle several dozen ghosts to the park without being noticed.

“Maybe they think it looks cooler,” Danny said. “Two!” he called, lobbing another blob in the air.

Sam arched an eyebrow. “Your dad thinks Phantom’s color scheme is cooler than the Fenton color scheme? Really?”

Tucker glanced down at the Thermos. It was mostly black, with white highlights here and there. Then he glanced at Danny. “She’s got a point.”

Danny picked up a third ghost, but hesitated. “Maybe… they realized Phantom was just going to steal it and they didn’t want Phantom carrying around their tech.”

“So now you’re going with your dad doesn’t want the word ‘Fenton’ on everything, and all the free advertising Phantom gives them,” Sam said, watching Danny stroke the little ghost like it was a puppy. “That sounds like him too.”

“Look, I don’t know what goes through my parents’ minds,” Danny scowled. “Can we finish this and go watch our movie?”

Sam hummed and watched Danny toss ghost after ghost into the air.

Eleven. Then fifteen. Then twenty-one.

Danny hesitated. “Um… we’re way above the capacity of the old one.”

“I thought you said it’d hold about the same,” Tucker said.

“I thought that’s what she said.” Danny frowned. “Give me the new Thermos for a moment.”

Tucker handed it over.

Danny studied it for a few minutes, twisting and turning it in his hands. Then he floated into the air and pointed the Thermos at the ground. It sucked up all the remaining blob ghosts at once.

“You still have one on your back,” Sam pointed out.

Twisting around, Danny snagged it, then held it in his hand and sucked it in. “What do you know, it holds all the little ghosts. Neat.” His feet settled back on the ground. “I suppose that makes ghost hunting easier.”

“Movie?” Tucker said, walking over and grabbing the notebook and stuffing it into his backpack.

“That’s my notebook,” Danny said, reaching for it.

Tucker pulled the bag out of Danny’s reach. “Like I’d trust you with a week’s worth of my data. You’d let a ghost eat it.”

“I wouldn’t let it,” Danny muttered, “but you may have a point.”

Sam got to her feet and snatched the new Thermos out of Danny’s hands. It was warm. “So we’re just going to ignore the color change to the tech your parents gave you.”

Danny shrugged. “For now.”

Tucker nodded and added, “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, it’s movie time.”

The two boys set off across the park and Sam trailed behind, studying the Thermos. Then she sighed and slung the strap over her shoulder, jogging to catch up with her friends. There was a new movie she’d been wanting to see - she just had to con the two boys into going with her.

#dannymay2020 #had a rough couple days #was determined for this to be more light-hearted #but only darkness would come out #not-so-quick writing this time #had to restart too many times

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voidingintotheshout · 3 years

Text

Black History Month Public Domain Reading List

I’d seen a list floating around the internet with links to pirated books by black writers of note for black history month. I felt that it was problematic to be sharing something that’s disenfranchising black writers when there are a lot of great books by black writers to read that are in the public domain and free to read. I compiled this list of books by various black writers of note with descriptions and links to a site to download them onto your devices. The site is Project Gutenberg, the original e-book site, releasing ebooks since, surprisingly, 1971.

Slave Narratives & Other Writings

Up from Slavery: An Autobiography by Booker T. Washington (A Memoir). This is his personal experience of having to work to rise up from the position of a slave child during the Civil War, to the difficulties and obstacles he overcame to get an education at the new Hampton Institute, to his work establishing vocational schools—most notably the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama—to help black people and other disadvantaged minorities learn useful, marketable skills and work to pull themselves, as a race, up by the bootstraps. It’s worth knowing that Washington was a segregationist, and so some of his views may surprise modern readers. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2376

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave by Frederick Douglass (A Memoir). It is generally held to be the most famous of a number of narratives written by former slaves during the same period. In factual detail, the text describes the events of his life and is considered to be one of the most influential pieces of literature to fuel the abolitionist movement of the early 19th century in the United States. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23

Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave by William Wells Brown (A Memoir). A wonderfully gripping slave narrative that’s the length of a novella. The matter-of-fact, almost journalistic way in which the writer describes the horrors he saw and experienced really hits home. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15132

Clotelle; Or, The Colored Heroine, a tale of the Southern States; Or, The President’s Daughter by William Wells Brown (A Novel). This book tells a fictional story of what the life would be like for the mixed-race daughter of founding father and president Thomas Jefferson and slave Sally Hemings. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/241

The Souls of Black Folk by W. E. B. Du Bois (Essays). The book contains several essays on race, some of which the magazine Atlantic Monthly had previously published. To develop this work, Du Bois drew from his own experiences as an African American in American society. Outside of its notable relevance in African-American history, The Souls of Black Folk also holds an important place in social science as one of the early works in the field of sociology. In The Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois used the term "double consciousness", perhaps taken from Ralph Waldo Emerson ("The Transcendentalist" and "Fate"), applying it to the idea that black people must have two fields of vision at all times. They must be conscious of how they view themselves, as well as being conscious of how the world views them. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/408

Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral by Phillis Wheatley (Poetry). She was the first African-American author of a published book of poetry. Born in West Africa, she was sold into slavery at the age of seven or eight and transported to North America. She was enslaved by the Wheatley family of Boston. After she learned to read and write, they encouraged her poetry when they saw her talent. On a 1773 trip to London with her master's son, seeking publication of her work, Wheatley met prominent people who became patrons. The publication in London of her Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral on September 1, 1773, brought her fame both in England and the American colonies. Figures such as George Washington praised her work. A few years later, African-American poet Jupiter Hammon praised her work in a poem of his own. Wheatley was emancipated by her masters shortly after the publication of her book. They soon died, and she married poor grocer John Peters, lost three children, and died in poverty and obscurity at the age of 31. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/409

Alexandre Dumas’ Writings

Many don’t know this, but he was the grandson of a French Nobleman and a Haitian slave woman. Writing in the 1800’s, his work is characterized as adventure novels and page-turners with beautiful descriptions that rarely steal the show from the plot.

The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas is a standalone book that sets up his D'Artagnan Romances (pronounced Dar-tan-yun, by the way). Romantic in the sense of vivid and sentimental in tone, the stories have captivated generations all over the world. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1257

The Count of Monte Cristo (Illustrated) by Alexandre Dumas is one of the best adventure tales of revenge that spans decades, as our hero unfolds a tale of revenge that includes prison breaks, fabulous wealth, hedonism, and much more. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1184

The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas is one of his shorter novels that takes place amid murder and intrigue in a world where tulips were more valuable than gold. A good read, but not as gripping as the above two books, but great if you don’t want to be on the hook for a thousand pages of description and action. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/965

Zora Neale Hurston’s Writings

She was an American author, anthropologist, and filmmaker. She portrayed racial struggles in the early-1900s American South and published research on hoodoo. The most popular of her four novels is Their Eyes Were Watching God, published in 1937. She also wrote more than 50 short stories, plays, and essays. Her writings are known for their noticeable focus on vernacular speech, where character spoke as they would during that place and time.

Three Plays by Zora Neale Hurston (Lawing & Jawing, Forty Yards, & Woofing). Lawing and Jawing is about a "regal" Judge who having a rough morning sends everybody to jail. He adjourns the court so he can "escort" a pretty girl home since he sent her innocent boyfriend to jail. Forty Yards is all about the teams cheering and singing. Every step is a song. The game is just an excuse to sing, even when the place catches fire they sing. Woofing is about a procrastinating man who doesn't finish anything and when a marching band goes past his porch, he and all his cronies drop everything to follow the band. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17187

The Mule-Bone: by Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston. (Novella) The only collaboration between the two brightest lights of the Harlem Renaissance—Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes. In this hilarious story, Jim and Dave are a struggling song-and-dance team, and when a woman comes between them, chaos ensues in their tiny Florida hometown.

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19435

De Turkey and De Law by Zora Neale Hurston. The two friends from The Mule-Bone, Jim and Dave are back again and so is Daisy. These two friends become enemies because they both imagine that Daisy prefers himself over the other. They both go out to hunt a turkey to give Daisy. The two young men fight over the turkey and one gets hit with a mule bone from the same old mule from the other play.

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22146

#zora neale hurston #alexandre dumas #booker t washington #frederick douglass #william wells brown #sally hemmings #thomas jefferson #w.e.b. du bois #Phillis Wheatley #black history month #black writers #project gutenberg

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

if you’re too shy • richie tozier

(richie tozier x cam girl!reader smut)

[based off the song if you’re too shy (let me know) by the 1975.]

requested: i can't find it lol BUT 🤍anon (i think) requested a fic based off of the 1975′s new song, if you’re too shy let me know !!

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, switch!richie kinda, smut, unprotected sex, a tiny bit of cumplay i guess, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, a bit of dirty talking, UNEDITED as always

also i wrote this in a different style than usual and idk if i like it much but u can let me know what u guys think,, if its weird i can go in and change the povs since its 3rd person richie

[losers + reader are 21+ in this.]

7.4k words lol

♡

i see her online all the time i'm trying not to stare down there while she talks about her tough time

"h-hey, man, who's that?" the voice from right next to richie makes him damn near leap out of his seat. it makes beverly chuckle a bit as she takes a bite of her apple, shaking her head. "it’s nobody." richie says quickly as he tilts his phone towards his chest and shoots a toothy grin to bill. his friend raises his full eyebrows, "wh-what, so n-nobody was sending you n-nudes?"

"something like that." richie mutters, stomach fluttering as the image flashes in his mind’s eye - the curves, the dark red lace, the plush skin painting a perfect scene in richie’s vivid imagination.

richie looks back down at the photo. his his thumbs hover over the profile picture; he'd found her originally on his instagram explore page, the photos teasing and immediately he had to know more. y/n.

and then a few days later, he'd subscribed to her only fans, which he never quite thought he'd do with anyone, but he couldn't help it. she was so enticing, so perfect and so alluring. it was the playfulness that pulled him in; and he swears he's never lusted after somebody like he has with her. it was kind of starting to freak him out.

"is that o-onlyfans?" bill says and richie shoves bill's nosy face off his shoulder with a panicked grunt. "fuck off, mushmouth."

bill laughs and stan and bev perk up from across the table, staring at the two, interests suddenly piqued. "did you subscribe to a girl's onlyfans, rich?" stan says with a grin, setting his pen down on his notebook.

richie just smirks and wiggles his brows a bit, enough to confirm his question. bill chuckles from next to richie.

"let me see." bev says, wiggling her manicured nails in a "gimme" motion. richie hands his phone over with red cheeks. normally he wouldn't care about his friends discovering he's paid money just to see a hot chick's bod, but this was different. for some reason, he felt connected to her. god, that thought made him want to slam his head against a brick wall. she doesn't even know him, for all he knows she could live in the middle of.... montana, or like, ohio.

bev whistles and stan nods, "if i looked like that," bev mumbles as she tosses richie's phone back towards him, "i'd do that too. mad props."

noises of agreement fill the table but richie's just looking at the small smirk that peeks from the corner of one of the photos and he can't help but wonder what her eyes are like in real life. he wishes he could meet her.

girl of your dreams, you know what i mean there's something 'bout her stare that makes you nervous and you say things that you don't mean

it's a cold day when bill and richie find themselves stumbling in to the coffee shop for a drink. bill's muttering about some girl in his creative writing class that gave him head when richie's eyes catch a figure so familiar yet foreign that he stops dead in his tracks. bill turns to him, face confused. "r-richie, what's wrong w-with you?"

richie shakes his head, stammering in disbelief, "that-that's her, bill. the girl, from onlyfans. y/n." he whispers, gesturing with his eyes towards the girl working the register.

bill’s jaw goes slack, green eyes raking over her form and igniting richie’s stomach with boiling rage. as if bill’s doing something that only richie is allowed to do – as if they're not both being total creeps.

“h-holy sh-shit. she’s b-beautiful.” bill mumbles. richie elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare that prompts an eye-roll from his auburn haired friend.

richie swallows and watches, his throat feeling like sandpaper as she laughs at something the customer in front of them said. bill nudges richie, "i-i'm gonna get a s-seat. t-talk to her."

he winks and grins as he walks away, leaving richie with his reckless self. he thinks he's sweating through his sweater as he walks up, finding himself face-to-face with her. "hi, how can i help you?" she asks, giving him a smile

holyshitholyshitholyshit.

he might've just came right then and there. okay, he's gotta say something cool, something smooth. don't be a dumbass, tozier.

"howdy, sugar. i'll have my coffee like i like my women." his mouth blurts as his brain sirens go off, PUT ON THE BRAKES, RICH – "a hot shock to the lap.”

she glares at him, cheeks light pink and eyebrows pulled together in annoyance and yep, richie's probably going to get hard because of that look but he's also probably going to toss his body off a bridge because what the fuck, tozier?

he can hear bill laughing quietly from a ways away and he quickly shakes his head, muttering quietly, "jail. jail, richard."

"funny." she deadpans, clearly not amused. because of course she isn't.

"sorry, i'll have a black coffee, y/n." he mutters, eyes widening to himself when he realizes she was not wearing a goddamn name tag and he just said her name.

this is a disaster. she gives him a bewildered, slightly creeped out look and if richie wasn't panicking, he'd gape at how she still managed to be effortlessly gorgeous even now.

he sighs, shaking his head, the door of the cafe opening and blowing a gust of frigid air through the warm room. fitting - douche chill.

"look, toots, i don't want this to be weird. i- um, i recognize you." he says, cheeks aflame. she raises a brow, face straight for a few moments, unsure what he means.

it's not long after when recognition flashes over her own face - must have ruled out coffee shop, university and her local gym - and she nods with a tight, almost uncomfortable smile.

he tries not to think of the livestream he watched last night where she showed all her new gifts and modeled lingerie, and how he’d spent his time to himself with his left hand immediately after watching. his cheeks are red with shame.

"okay." is all she says, writing down a scribbled order on the coffee cup. her eyes shoot back up and give richie a once-over that really makes his fingers itch - god, why did he have to be this way?

he almost runs his fingers through his curls but decides against it, eyes opting to focus on her own gorgeous eyes as they meet him. "i'm impressed i have a fan who looks like you, i must say. even if you are a complete jack ass." she purrs and his jaw nearly smacks the floor at its velocity as it flies open.

"what's that supposed to mean?" he asks then with a small grin, flattered at the tiniest of compliments that just barely, in his mind, eclipsed the insult that he so very much deserved.

"i'm saying you're kind of a dick. it's too bad, because you're real cute." she says casually, handing him his change. his stomach flips and butterflies release in his chest, a feeling that he's not felt in almost five years.

but damn, of course he messed up - he got the chance to talk to the hottest girl on earth and he started it by saying an awful joke that wasn't funny at all. of course she though he was a dick, he is one.

he's shocked, though, as he waits for his coffee with bill, who is still snickering into his hand every few moments, to find his coffee cup with extra sharpie scribbled on the white paper. a name.

y/n. and below it is a phone number with a small heart scribbled, and richie can't tell if it's a seven or a one but he figures he'd try every phone number in the damn state if it meant he could fucking text her. holy fuck.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking if you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

he didn't text her for two days and three hours. yes, he counted it. no, he won't think about why he was obsessing over the numbers - but since the time he'd finally had found the courage to text her today, things have escalated proficiently.

she'd just mentioned how hot it was in her apartment since her heater had gone haywire - even though the winter winds were cold, she'd claimed she was burning up in what she was wearing.

and the mere mention of her clothing had sent richie into somewhat of a spiral, spending at least seven minutes glued to his phone and scrolling through the saved album he had of those photos of her that she'd posted; his sweatpants getting increasingly tight and his palm suddenly aching to slip through the fabric and find some release.

but, in true trashmouth fashion, he apparently needed that sweet, sweet rejection from a hot cam girl he'd somehow weaseled into getting the number of in order to wank off properly, so he types out a text and hits send immediately.

what are you wearing?

and then he almost vomits in embarrassment – what was she going to think? did he just royally fuck up? oh god, he’s going to have to shave his head and move to canada.

his phone buzzes and he nearly passes out when he lays his eyes upon the image attached – there her body is again, curvy and full and beautiful, her skin glowing in the fading light of what he assumes is her bedroom. and with it:

this. what are you wearing, rich?

and then he pulls his gaze from his phone and stands, breathing heavily because holy shit.

he's gotten nudes before, but.... none from someone like her. holy shit.

he walks to his bathroom, splashing water on his beet-red cheeks. he swallows, staring at himself in the mirror. fuck.

he slaps his cheek once, then winking at himself in attempt to muster any sliver of confidence. and then he snaps a picture, only in his boxers.

and then he has to physically refrain from making a joke about wearing the same lingerie set as her, instead sending a flirty text that he knows any other woman would blush at. he just doesn’t know with y/n, and maybe that’s why he loves it so much. she's keeping him on his toes.

you like what you see?

he sends that one afterwards, shaking his head because oh my god, she's going to respond with "no" and then bill him $40 for the nude she sent him. not that he wouldn't pay, but...

his phone dings and he nearly breaks an ankle running to his desk.

yeah, i do. but maybe i'd like you better without any clothes on.

he almost yells out loud at this, but he has a feeling that waking up stan in the middle of the night would not be optimal after their 'roommate agreement' they'd made that explicitly states richie cannot scream between 1am - 9am. so instead he smirks to himself, face turning red.

he's getting harder by the moment, and as he stares at that picture she'd sent earlier, he lets out a breathy groan. the lace....

we could face time yk

or we don't have to.

he reads her words in live time, watching the thought bubble appear again and watching it like a hawk. he can just imagine her sitting there with a small smirk as another text comes in and he almost groans as his dick twitches.

like, if you're too shy or something ;)

he stares at the screen for two seconds at that sinful photo she'd sent just before those texts and then sighs, shaking his head and pressing the green face-time call button.

i've been wearing nothing every time i call you and i'm starting to feel weird about it sometimes it's better if you think about it this time, i think i'm gonna drink through it

three days later, richie was undeniably and unequivocally drunk. but, as he's just explained about three times to mike, he knows that it is just easier to not think right, especially about her, right now - and the best way to do that is by getting so piss drunk that even if he tried to "hit her line," as he so eloquently put it, his dick would be too whiskey'd out to make a full appearance.

it's for the best. mike had fake gagged at richie’s cadence with a laugh, but richie was dead serious because he was starting to think he had a real issue.

it was obviously just a fun thing to do between two near-strangers, but he'd found that he was starting to almost pavlov-style condition himself into getting turned on every time the name y/n came across his recent texts or face times, and it was getting to be too much.

especially when her post notification popped up and he cracked a fatty in the middle of his econ lecture. christ, the point of elasticity of markers in the u.s. was not something he pictured when he usually had to quell a pitch in his tent. so yeah, it's too much.

because yes, he loves her fucking body and wants nothing more than her, but in truth he longs for the feeling of her skin against his; to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his. all the time.

but yet, it was just a good way to get off without all the strings and ribbons and yarn and whatever the fuck her soft-looking knit bra is made from attached.

so much for not thinking about her.

but i see her online (and don't think that i should be calling) all the time (i just wanted a happy ending) and i'm pretending i don't care about her stare while she's giving me a tough time

it’s noon the next day and he's laying in (for some reason) stan's bed instead of his own with a blinding, mind-splitting headache and an insatiable craving for a cheeseburger, eyes squinting in lust and something akin to shame as he watches the livestream y/n had just started. she’s in a slip – a very thin, silk and see through slip and it makes him more frustrated than he’s willing to admit.

as he stares at her smooth skin and wonders how it'd be to touch it all, her eyes catch something in the chat and she smiles coyly. "hi, rich." she purrs and richie almost chokes - holy shit, she saw him join.

"do you like my gift i just got?" she asks coyly, snapping the straps of her bra with a small smile and he stiffens almost instantly, thinking of how many times he'd seen her skin in videos and photos that were just for him.

how she'd moaned his name two nights ago on face time, her fingers buried inside herself slightly off-camera. and oh, how he wishes he could see all of her, but they'd not crossed that line yet - anything they'd done hadn't been yet proven visually, only from facial expressions, noises, and the brutal honestly of being together through face time.

he wants her so fucking bad, he needs her like he needs water to drink and air to breathe and it's murdering him as he watches her react to the chat of her livestream, playing with the hem of her black lace panties.

god, he needs a cold shower or something if he's going to get anything done today.

and then he's calling her an a few hours after her stream ends because he just can't wait - he feels his stomach twist with shame as he realizes he should not be doing such a certainly a terrible idea. but she answers after three rings. "richie." her siren voice purrs and he literally feels himself fall deeper into the pit.

"hi there, toots. got any coffee in the pot for me?" he asks, sounding surprisingly eloquent compared to how she normally makes him feel.

she hums in fake thought, and it makes richie grin. she's fucking adorable. "come to the shop, i have my break in ten." and then she hangs up. he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand as he shakes his head. he's utterly fucked.

he's there in record time, a smirk plastered on his face as he walks in and sees her sitting at a table, lookin' all pretty. just for him.

"what made you think of calling?" she says in loo of a greeting. he sits across from her and wills his eyes to meet hers. "nothin' toots." he says with a half shrug, taking a sip of the coffee placed in front of him that has the the name 'dick' written on it in her handwriting. he rolls his eyes affectionately.

"oh, so it wasn't anything to do with my livestream this morning?" she asks with a look, eyeing him. her eyes are swimmable, they hold so many stories and secrets and maybe richie's just hungover, but he's feeling very flustered.

"we-w, uh, no. what... what are you talking about?" he rolls his eyes at himself inwardly, cursing stuttering bill and his contagious speech patterns. "-i don't know what you're talking about, sugar." he recovers fairly smoothly, if he may toot his own horn. and honestly, he can pretend not to care as long as he doesn't look into that goddamn stare of hers.

he chuckles awkwardly, cheeks aflame as she stares at him with a bored look and a small hum. she still looks perfect and he's even more nervous now, because oh god, oh fuck, he's gonna get slapped in the face by y/n.

it was pretty unspoken since they'd started doing... stuff... that richie probably still watched her content online, but she'd never fully addressed it until today during the livestream in front of a thousand others.

he's choking on his spit in shame but then a smile splits her face and richie's sure he's suffocated on his own saliva and gone to a sinner's heaven. or maybe hell.

"oh, richie, i'm just teasing you. look at your face!" she says with an airy laugh, pinching his cheeks and making him want to shrivel up as he turns even redder. what the fuck? "-so cute. alright, i've got to get back to work. i'll see you around, rich." she says with a wink, taking her coffee and tossing it into the trash bin as she stalks towards the employee back room.

he gapes as he watches her leave and then gets up and makes his way to the exit, clutching the coffee like it was trying to jump out of his grasp and make a run for it. god, she's too much.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking If you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

"-babe, you'll have to try harder than that." richie says with a chuckle, watching his phone screen as the beautiful girl on face time gives him a sly, challenging look. she's in a green lace bra, one richie's not seen yet and he can feel himself stiffen as she absently trails her fingers over her chest.

they'd been much closer over the last week since he last saw her in person, enough so that in the three-is weeks of knowing her, he's positive he's head over ass for her in a way that he shouldn't be. and yet, she still comes back every time, still texts him and answers those face time calls. he's baffled, honestly.

"i know you hate me because i'm right." he adds, not even totally remembering what point he's trying to prove as y/n shifts back a bit and more of her body is revealed, her hair glowing dimly in the soft lighting of her room. his eyes run over her curves, her full thighs and stomach and hips that fill over her panties and he almost groans.

"whatever, maybe i'd like you better if you took off your clothes." she says coyly. and richie's half flattered, as usual, but the more he thinks of it the more deflated he feels. he kind of thought they were growing something more than just getting each other off over face time like horny fifteen year olds. he grins nonetheless.

"you say that a lot, you know." richie says breathlessly as he stares at her. she tilts her head ever so slightly and grins, biting her lip as her eyes move around her screen with a conflicted look. "-why?" he adds.

she hums again.

"well. okay, so there's the visual world - like, the internet, onlyfans, instagram- it tells us that everything is amazing. and we should want everything. and it makes us yearn for everything that we don’t have and everything that’s unobtainable. you know, love, a relationship beyond physical. and even physical, it's different when it's online."

her words confuse him much more than they aid him. "you think... that because of the internet, love is unattainable?" he asks with furrowed brows, unsure how somebody so perfect and, quite frankly, lovable, would think that.

"it is for me." she says it with a small sense of forlorning but mostly it's whispered. enough that richie's heart skips a beat and he's, for the first time, not having a hard time keeping his eyes on her face instead of her body.

"what?" he asks dumbly. she just laughs, shaking her head and he stares at her on his tiny phone screen in the dark.

"that’s something that, you know. in real life, person to person, it has a lot of connotations of... trust and vulnerability and connection. doing what i do- and what we're doing… on the internet - it has the opposite of those connotations. like, before you, i didn't- i didn't really do this, i just was selling stuff. because guys don't want to fuck the girl who sells her body online. and you know now, i want to..." she trails off and richie doesn't dare interrupt her because he thinks she's about to say something he's wanted to tell her for a while now.

"i don't know, i guess. exploring someone's body in physical presence isn't seen at all as voyeuristic, or anything apart from...like, an intimate exchange." she says it casually, brushing hair from her face and shit, richie's swooning. he's in fucking love, he knows it, because y/n is so smart and intelligent and he's so fucking trashed for her. as she speaks, her hands move and distract him slightly from her body, doused in blue light from the screen and splayed out for him and only him on her phone camera.

the soft lace on her hips and chest make his body stiffen and it causes him to suppress a groan as she sighs, but richie knows he can’t screenshot this heavenly sight because she’ll definitely notice and she can probably already tell he’s having a hard time not staring at her alluring figure as she talks.

"-whereas, you know. as soon as it happens on the internet, it becomes kinky and cam-girly. and, you know, that's fine. i love doing it. it's just, i'm not sure where the authentic communication even is now. or if i get to have a happy ending." she says and he finally sees her blush for the first time.

he wishes he was there with her, he wishes that he could touch the redness on her cheeks and caress her curvy body and taste her skin on his tongue. he wants to feel himself inside her, he wants to be with her and kiss her lips and yet he can't, so he sighs and shifts in his position, moving to turn up the brightness of his phone so he can see better.

"shouldn't you get to be the one to decide that, doll?" is all he adds. because he feels kind of lost and just as confused as y/n is with this.

he's starting to feel weird about it, because... is this authentic? what makes things like hookups or whatever the hell they've been doing authentic? shouldn't this be easy? it's just phone sex, phone sex with a really hot girl.

a girl who is complex and alive and full of sincerity and richie is definitely falling harder than he should.

she just sighs but makes no other comment. and then they just stare at each other, richie's face illuminated in his dark room by the phone's reflection.

well, i found a motel it looked like the bins i think there'd been a murder so we couldn't get in i need to get back i've gotta see the girl on the screen

"come over and watch a movie with me." he says into the phone, biting his lip. the silence from the other end of the line is deafening as she makes her decision, because they both know she's not about to come over just to watch the shining or psycho.

they've never done that before, and richie knows if she does come over, then whatever they have will crash down in a fiery mess. and he hates how excited that makes him as he waits in silence for her to drop the ball. so to speak.

"okay." she says, sounding shocked herself, and richie can't contain the excited grin from eclipsing his face. "yeah?" he asks breathlessly, and she's quiet for a little longer. "yeah. text me your address."

she hangs up after that, and richie's thumbs shake as he types his address and sprints out to where stan, mike, ben, and bill are playing video games in he and stan's living room, wheezing at all of them to get out because someone fucking unbelievable is about to walk through that door.

she's there about an hour later, cheeks flushed when richie opens his door, looking just as nervous and flustered. "hi, chee." she says breathlessly, staring up at him with those goddamn eyes, the eyes that pulled him in the first time. his stomach flips in affection at her nickname and he offers her a drink as she takes in his shitty apartment. he wonders briefly if stan ended up buying that rosé that he'd given him shit for considering, and then prays that stan will stay the night elsewhere.

she's already pouring out glasses of wine when he snaps back to reality, and he grins at her, mumbling in thanks as she passes him a glass that's certainly poured almost to the brim.

"what are we watching, then?" she asks coyly, lifting a brow at him. his cheeks are red, but he tugs her arm down the hall towards his room with a grin, their wine sloshing from their glasses as they move erratically.

"we're watching psycho, y/n/n." he says as he pulls her into his room, glancing back to see she's already swallowed down almost half her glass, a lipstick stain on the side of it. faintly he knows stan will be frustrated if richie doesn't clean that off, but he's more distracted by her lips.

"i like psycho." she says with a nod and a cheeky grin, "the whole 'voyeuristic gaze' thing with hitchcock." she mumbles, and richie recalls faintly learning about that in one of his film classes freshman year and he grins as he takes a hefty gulp of his rosé, figuring he's already given himself away and if she's going to do that, he can too.

he hums, setting down his glass and grabbing hers to set it besides his on the bedside table. he turns around, intending on grabbing his laptop so they could watch the film, but she's so much closer that he'd expected and her hands fall onto his shoulders and he almost shits himself.

unpleasant, but honest. just richie's style.

"can i try something?" she asks with a grin, and richie nods, knowing that she could do anything to him and he'd gladly let it happen and most likely pay out of pocket for the damages afterwards.

and then she's pulling him from her grip on his shoulders, her lips sliding against his and making him grip her hips. his mind almost explodes at with y/n-sensory-overload because he feels her everywhere - on his lips, against his hands, on his shoulders, and pressing against his front.

her lips taste like chamomile and rosé.

she thinks his lips taste like vanilla and cigarette smoke, just as she'd always imagined. he feels so real, pressed against her lips and his body against hers, and she sighs as her tongue slips into his mouth because god, she's needed him for so long. and now she has him.

his hands move, touching every inch of her as their tongues fight for dominance. she pulls back, smirking as she gently pushes him onto his mattress, sliding onto his lap smoothly afterwards, grinding her hips against his slowly.

the moan he emits is heavenly and she could cry because she finally gets to hear it in person and not through the crackling static frequency of the phone.

so she grinds down on him again, eager to feel all of him. he's hardening against her core and she whimpers into his mouth in need as his fingers slip under her top, rubbing circles on her bare skin and making her shiver. she's noticed to this gentleness; it was rare when she did get to enjoy the comfort of another body with her own, and when she did they were hardly half as loving or caring as him.

she's desperate now, she needs to feel him inside her after all these weeks of teasing and waiting, so her hand snakes down to palm him through his sweats. he lets out a small groan into her mouth, biting her lip as he pulls back slightly. their eyes meet and his are hooded with lust, lips parted as she pumps him slowly from outside his sweats. his hips buck up lightly into her palm and she smiles gently, kissing him slowly.

"let me make you feel good, y/n." he mutters, eyes pleading as he stares up at her. her stomach flutters with butterflies and she nods, shocked that he wants to pleasure her.

he gently pulls her off his lap until she's laying on his mattress and he stares down at her, biting his lip as he takes her in. he can't fucking believe she's really here. she slowly pulls off her top, leaving her in her bra and jeans as she stares up at him with a wry, seductive smile. then she unzips her jeans and slides them off, leaving her in his favorite set of hers - black, lacy, and revealing. she looks utterly stunning and he groans, his hands falling to run over the skin, tracing the lace on her breasts. her cheeks are red as she gazes up at him.

"touch me, richie." she orders and he almost groans as he drags his lips over the valley of her breasts, sucking on the soft flesh and admiring the splashes of budding purple and pink that he's created. her heartbeat is quick under his fingertips and he moves to unclip her bra, kissing her skin as the fabric falls away.

she's slightly cold in his room, and goosebumps appear over her flesh as richie leans to catch a nipple in her mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. she lets out a quiet whine that has richie rutting into the mattress next to her, his fingers trailing down to dance at the waistline of her underwear.

and then he's pulling aside her panties, his fingers running up and down her slick folds and making her jump in lust. he can't wait, just like her, and he's rubbing her clit teasingly as she pleads, "chee, please." her eyes are eyes closed in bliss as his finger slips inside her, crooking slightly as he moves it. he presses his lips to the skin of her breast, pumping his finger and then soon adding another, crooking them both in a way that makes her let out guttural moans of pleasure. he marks her breasts with littered pink and red marks, smiling to himself at her figure.

she can't help but swoon as she watches him, his hair in his face slightly until she brushes it back, his fingers curling inside her and making her gasp, pleasure coursing through her body. his thumb softly comes up to rub her neglected clit and she grabs his shoulders to steady herself, the pleasure almost too much.

she's honestly slightly shocked - knowing richie as little as she really does outside of the literal booty calls at two in the morning and the accumulative forty five minutes they'd spent in person, she'd expected him to be... well, good. just good. because there's no way someone so funny, caring, and smart could also be that good in the sheets.

but right now, he's making her see goddamn stars.

"i've been wanting to touch you for so long, sugar." he mutters, eyes raking over her figure as her breath comes in stuttering gasps. she watches him with blown-wide eyes as his demeanor changes right before her, making her fall apart at his fingertips.

"that feel good, honey?" he asks, smirking as she whimpers, clenching around his fingers. "yes, god you feel so good." she utters, making him groan in approval from where he's sat back, watching her face contort in pleasure. she lets out another moan and richie stares at her body, watching his fingers as they fuck into her. he can't take it, then.

"will you sit on my face, doll?" he blurts, and she nearly yelps out as his fingers leave her. it's abrupt, but she's started to notice that this is how he operates - impulsivity is his second nature. and she loves it.

her face burns as she nods, the thought of richie under her making her whimper with anticipation. "yes, richie, please." she moans out again and he's grinning, laying back on the mattress with a wink. "c'mere, need to taste that pretty little pussy." he mutters and she feels herself clench around nothing, desperate for him as she swings a leg around to straddle his head.

immediately, his hands wrap around her thighs, thumbs smoothing over her stretch marks as he stares up at her, eyes glinting with desire. slowly, his finger pulls the seat of her lace panties to the side and his breath hits her bare, throbbing pussy, making her breath hitch. she cards her fingers through his hair and lowers herself slightly, gasping in shock as his tongue darts out to lick a bold stripe up from her entrance to her clit.

"chee," she moans out, tightening her grip in his hair and sending a groan through his body that reverberates and makes her shiver. his lips attach to her clit and fiery pleasure snakes through her body making her legs shake, a moan escaping her lips immediately. he sucks lightly before releasing to swirl his tongue, her moans making richie impossibly harder through his sweats.

"so good, rich." she mutters and he groans, tongue spreading her wet folds and slowly prodding at her entrance, dipping in slowly before pulling out, teasing her.

she can't help but grind down slightly, making richie grip her tightly, tongue sliding into her again and making her yelp. "you taste so good, baby." he mutters lowly before slowly reattaching himself to her heat, her eyes rolling slightly at the sensation as he fucks his tongue into her. one of his hands snakes up to her ass, gripping it tightly and then slapping it, the stinging pleasure making her buck her hips against him, emitting a hiss from her.

"rich, i-" she cuts herself off with a sharp gasp, the pleasure from richie's mouth making it increasingly harder to speak. her toes curl and her head tilts back as his tongue flicks over her clit, teeth grazing it slightly and making her buck.

she's embarrassingly close already, and judging by the way richie's smirking under her, he can tell. "please, please." she mutters, hips rocking on him as his tongue swirls, nipping softly at her clit and making her cry out. "please, make me cum, 'chee." she mutters and his tongue moves quicker, hand slapping her ass again.

and then she's clenching her thighs on either side of him and grinding down as she hits her peak, moaning quietly as she shakes in pleasure on top of him. he rides through her high, lapping at her and pulling away with a grin as she moans his name dejectedly. she's worn out from the best orgasm she's ever had and he gently nudges her so he slides in between her thighs, her back now on the mattress. he kisses her cheek and she keens quietly.

"fuck me, richie." she mutters, eyes still closed. his eyes snap to hers, surprised at the dominance in her voice after how she was two seconds ago.

he moans quietly, kissing her deeply as he ruts against her and relishes in the feeling. he's pulling off his sweats and boxers in record time and then he's pumping himself as he grips her hips, turning her so she's on her stomach, ass propped up slightly. his hand runs over the smooth skin of her ass, snapping the elastic of her panties and making her moan quietly.

then he's lining up her hips with his, pulling aside the lacy seat of her underwear to press against her entrance. he waits a moment as he leans to press a soft kiss to her spine, slowly easing into her. she moans loudly as he eases in, her face pressing against the pillows. she smiles as she smells the scent she'd just recently come to know as his, his cock stretching her and filling her up fully as he buries himself to the hilt inside her.

"so tight, sugar." he mutters and she whimpers, getting antsy as she adjusts to his size. "richie, please, need it so bad." she mutters, bucking her hips back against him in need.

"say that again." he mutters, sounding strangled, and she grins into the sheets. "please fuck me, richie. need it so bad, need to feel you ruin me." she whimpers, chest fluttering in anticipation. his hands grip her hips as he pulls out of her slowly, almost as slowly as he entered, before stopping almost all the way out. she moans loudly in pleasure as he pushes back in, snapping his hips against hers and filling her completely.

she briefly thanks god that his roommate seemed to be out for the night as she moans his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

he sets a brutal pace, his cock thick as it fills her up and makes her toes curl. he pushes her hair away from her neck and presses kisses to it as he hits a spot inside her that makes her scream his name. his fingers move to pinch her nipples, rolling them as he fucks into her.

she's completely blissed out at the feeling of him inside her, so glad that he invited her over and that they finally get to touch each other. "rich, oh my god." she emits, eyes squinted shut in complete pleasure.

"fuck, toots, takin' me so well, aren't you?" he asks, hands kneading her ass before slapping her right ass cheek harshly, making her arch her back. at the new angle they both let out a groan and richie knows he'll fucking cum too soon if they stay like this, so without warning he pulls out completely.

y/n whines, breathing heavily as his hands come to flip her around. now on her back, they make eye contact and she bites her lip, pulling him in for a searing kiss that knocks the wind out of both of them. images of richie in his room alone, snaps and late-night face times play through her mind as he grips her and slides her hips down towards him on the mattress and lines himself to her again, pulling her legs up so they're against his chest before pushing in.

he gives no time to adjust to this angle and it makes her moan loudly as he hits a spot deep inside her that pulls her closer and closer to her second orgasm.

his name leaves her cherry lips like a mantra and he can't stop staring at her as he fucks her into the mattress - the way her tits bounce with his brutal pace, the way her face is twisted in pleasure, the way she clenches and spasms around his cock.

one hand grips her breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb and forefinger as he kisses her again, addicted to her taste as he feels himself coming closer and closer to the edge.

"chee, fuck, right there." she moans out and he groans in pleasure, the feeling of her walls clenching around him making his hips stutter. he keeps his thrusts up, though, as her fingernails rake down his back leaving small trails of burning pleasure in their wake.

her skin is covered with a sheen line of sweat as she looks up at him, hair wild and lips kiss-bruised. "god, don't stop, 'm gonna cum." she mutters and he snaps his hips harder, eager to make her cum so hard all she can think of is his name.

he moves a hand down to rub at her clit and he moans into her neck as she clenches hard around him, her hips bucking spastically. he can tell she's about to cum, and after a hard thrust, she does for the second time, spasming around him and sending waves of pleasure up his body. she's moaning his name, pulling him closer in bliss as she becomes sensitive and god damn it, she's so fucking beautiful.

"please cum, richie." she whispers against his lips, "please." and then at her will, he's spilling into her, hips stuttering as he pushes as deep into her as he can, loving how she clenches in sensitivity around him. he stays inside her for a moment as they breathe, coming down from their highs and eyes closed as they take in what just happened.

"holy shit." he says because yeah, that's like all he can say right now because he just got to fuck y/n and she's kissing his fucking collarbones right now and its making him blush and his heart flutter.

"that was...incredible." she whispers against his skin and he can feel her smile against his skin. it makes him feel all soft inside as he pulls out of her and flops next to her, kissing her forehead.

his fingers flutter over her sensitive core, smiling as he sees how wrecked she is, some cum dripping down her leg. he then soothes over the lace panties, patting her lightly and kissing her red cheek.

"rich?" she asks, making him look up at her. he hums in question, pushing some of her hair back. "can we still watch the movie?"

his heart swells and he grins, kissing her softly. "of course, doll. you're too cute." he says with a wink, making her roll her eyes. he hands her his shirt and then pulls sweats on himself, mumbling "stay here" and padding out to the kitchen to get her water and snacks, then returning minutes later to see her holding his phone in her clutch with a smirk.

"what're you doing?" he asks with a smile, but she shakes her head, making grabby hands for him and the snacks. so he laughs, cuddling up with the girl of his dreams and watching a flick, falling sleep with tangled limbs and a lipstick-stained neck.

and after she leaves the next morning with a kiss and a wink, he checks his phone and smirks to himself as he notices the lock screen she'd apparently made last night while he was making snacks.

a photo of her in his bed, wearing his shirt, a soft smirk on her face, neck littered in budding hickeys and a hand between her thighs next to her black lace panties.

god, she's going to be the absolute death of him.

//tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @emnotm @moon-shine-baby @toziershmozier @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @beauregard-s@finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss \\

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #richie has adhd #losers x reader #losers club x reader

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niksixx · 4 years

Text

Number 73

~Part 2!!! Read Part 1 first please!!!~

Requested: By many of you

Pairing: Axl Rose x Female Reader

Description: A continuation of part 1!! This fic takes place over the course of about two months. (It’s most likely unrealistic, but when is fanfiction ever real? This also has 2,634 words!!!! I got so carried away lmao ENJOY.)

Warning: Some cursing and mentions of sex (no smut...yet)

A/N: R E B L O G :)

*GIF is NOT mine. Found it on Google, so credit goes to the owner!*

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“I knew he was an asshole, but fuck that’s cold.”

Nodding at your best friend, you bend down to take a sip of your lukewarm coffee, shrugging. It’s been two days since you last saw Axl. The douchebag was all you could think about; Not even the sex you’d had.

You couldn’t fully place the blame on him. You were naive to think you’d mean anything to him, changing anything between the two of you. Like he said, you were just number seventy-three.

“Was it good at least?”

You grin, fighting the urge to spill all the details. “Hate sex is always good, Y/B/F, but hate sex with Axl? Unbeatable.”

She chuckles. “How many girls do you think he’s fucked since you?”

You think for a moment. “Well, I was seventy-three, so I’d say he’s probably at about seventy-eight now. I’m not mad that he has a lot of sex. I’m pissed off that I let myself be used by a man that doesn’t care about me. I wish other girls could see that, too.”

Commitment wasn’t in Axl’s vocabulary. He simply couldn’t bring himself to be loyal. In the years that you’d known the Guns N’ Roses singer, he’d never been in a relationship. Girls were simply his playthings. They served no purpose to him other than pleasure.

Still, even with his mood swings and deplorable attitude, you couldn’t deny your attraction. But you’d think twice about letting the redhead anywhere near you or your body. You wouldn’t be vulnerable. Not again.

On the way home to your house, you drop off Y/B/F. Before she exits the car, she turns to you, the corners of her mouth raised in a smirk. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” You ask, fixing your sunglasses in the rearview mirror.

She gives you a look. “Duh, about Axl. He humiliated you. He fucked you and threw you aside like you were nothing. If I were you, I’d give him a taste of his own medicine.”

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel, gears turning in your head. She had a point. “What, like, I should get even?”

Y/B/F shakes her head, eyes wild, and smiles wide. “Oh no, honey. You’re not just going to get even. You’re going to beat him at his own damn game.”

~~~

“Y/N?” Steven yawns, scratching his head as you push past him into the GNR apartment. Glass bottles and cigarettes litter the floor from last night’s party, and the place reeks of alcohol, smoke, and sweat. “What are you doing here?” He follows your eyes to the floor, wincing. “Sorry, I actually just woke up. Axl and Duff started cleaning but they went out to get pizza for lunch.”

“That’s actually perfect,” You’ve been over the apartment plenty of times before, almost as if it’s your own. The boys needed to find their own respective places, though, as four out of the five were ready to settle down. Grabbing a trash bag, you help Steven clean up the rest of the mess. “Look, I need your help. I trust you the most.”

Steven snickers. “Oh, no. Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m not the most reliable.”

“Maybe not,” you say, hands firm on your hips. “But I trust you to keep your mouth shut.”

Steven groans, taking a deep breath before situating himself on the couch. He waves his hand, “Proceed.”

“You all know Axl and I can’t stand each other,” Steven laughs heartily and you shoot him a hard look. “And after a long few days of thinking, I decided that what I hate, even more than Axl, is being used.”

“Yeah, he told me about your little uh…” He makes a face. “I know you had sex, let’s put it that way. You were number seventy-three, he wrote it down.”

“I’m sure I was the topic of--wait,” You furrow your brows, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “Did you say he wrote it down?”

Steven nods. “Of course he wrote it down. How else would he keep track of all the girls he’s fucked? All the names are in a little brown book under his bed.” Steven’s eyes go wide, realizing his mistake. “I definitely shouldn’t have said that.”

Before Steven can react, you run down the hall and into Axl’s room, rummaging under his bed before your fingers graze a leather cover. You pull it out and flip to the most recent page, and there scribbled in black ink is your name, along with seven other girls’ names from the previous weekend.

“Son of a bitch,” you whisper, thumbing through the other pages. “Shelly Neilson, Diana Fox, Cait Burke, Jade Nichols, Ruby Thompson…”

“Wait a minute,” Steven says, peering over your shoulder. His jaw clenches as he rereads the last name. “Ruby Thompson?”

“What? She an ex or something?” You ask, skimming the first few pages, eyes bulging at the dates. “This book goes back seven years ago. Jesus, Axl.”

You feel Steven’s body tense beside you. You turn, and his face is stone-like. “Ruby Thompson is my goddamn cousin.” Mouth agape, you watch as Steven runs a hand over his face. “That fucking bastard. No wonder he never let any of us see this book.”

“Uh, what’s going on?”

You turn toward the doorway where Slash and his wife stand, eyeing you suspiciously. You give Steven a sympathetic look before turning back toward the door. “I need to find a way to get back at Axl for treating me like shit.”

“Look, I’m not defending him,” Slash begins, earning a warning look from his wife. “But you knew his track record and you still let him fuck you?”

“Okay, technically, because I rode him, I fucked him,” Slash and Steven snicker. “And yes, it was stupid, I realize that now. Having sex with him wasn’t going to fix any animosity between us. But he knows me personally, and he fucking hurt me. I won’t let him get away with it. Not this time.”

“So what’s your plan?” asks Steven.

“That’s why I came here,” you sigh, clutching the book to your chest. “I need your help.”

Slash thinks for a moment. “What does Axl hate more than anything in the world?”

Steven chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “A lot of things. Competition. Second place. Being used,” Steven shoots you a wink. “And Y/N.”

“Exactly. Axl prides himself on having the most sex out of his whole friend group, right?,” Slash says, and his wife grins wickedly when she catches on.

“If we can keep Axl from having sex for a few weeks, that will give you a chance to reach his body count. He hates when others are good at something he’s good at. ” She says. Slash offers an impressive look. “Y/N, what’s your count?”

Your face flushes, and the two men glance at you expectantly. “Seventeen.”

Steven grimaces. “Seriously? We’re going to need at least a month, maybe more.”

“Hey,” Steven cowers when Slash’s wife pins him with a look. “In this house, we don’t shame women for liking sex and having sex just as much as men do. And compared to some men, seventeen is nothing.”

You send her a smile as a thank you. She nods back, grinning proudly.

“Alright, look,” Steven says, lips curling back in a quick smile. “I have three cousins who would love to help you get back at Axl. He crashed the first one’s car, stole money from the second, and slept with the third’s girlfriend. Come to think of it, she might actually be in here,” Steven reads through the book until he stops on a name. “Yep. Here she is. Misty Evans,” he snaps the book closed. “That motherfucker.”

“I have a brother you can use,” Slash’s wife grins. “And he has a lot of friends.” She wiggles her eyebrows excitedly.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” Slash holds up his hands. “It’s a good plan and all, but how in the hell are we going to stop Axl from having sex?”

~~~

73.

For two months, he was stuck at number 73.

Which was, by far, the best sex of his life.

And it just so happens it was with the person he hated most in the world.

Axl couldn’t get it out of his head. The way your eyes looked him up and down, daring him to leave and begging him to stay at the same time. Your soft lips that he was desperate to kiss again and feel on his skin. The breathy moans that were music to his ears. He’d be breaking his rule if he slept with you again, but Axl’s craving for your body had him considering wiping out the rule altogether.

His attempts to get you off his mind continued to fail as more and more women began to reject his advances. One minute he’d strike up a conversation, and the girls would be all for it, but as he returned from the bathroom or from a quick smoke break or the bar with another drink, they avoided him. Shot him dirty looks. Pretended they weren’t just all over him a few minutes prior. He didn’t understand, and it was driving him crazy.

Little does he know, whenever he leaves, you take his place, quickly showing the girls Axl’s book that hides in your purse, before urging them to stay away. So far, every girl that he’s tried to woo into his bed has shunned him. Many of the girls recognize their own friends in Axl’s book, and they promise you to stay away from him. It was dirty, it was evil, but no one ever wins by playing a fair game.

While he was constantly facing rejection, you were thriving. Axl noticed that whenever you came out with the group, men flocked to you instantly, more than they had before. You’d barely said three words to him since the night you’d slept together, and hadn’t even looked him in the eye.

He’d buy you drinks, only for you to mutter a quick thanks without returning the favor. Despite not being the best dancer, he’d offer you his hand at the clubs, only to be met with laughter from his bandmates as you accepted another man’s offer. And what blew his mind? Many of the guys looked...familiar.

From his seat at the booth, Axl could see a man shamelessly flirting with you at the bar. He grit his teeth, hand clenching around the bottle in front of him.

“Uh, dude?” Duff signals to the beer. “If you want to practice your chokehold, I’m sure there are plenty of chicks in here who would be more than willing to help you out, if you know what I mean.”

Axl’s eyes never left you. “What the hell is going on with Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” Steven asks innocently, shooting Slash a sly grin. “She’s having a drink at the bar.”

Axl turns to Steven, narrowing his eyes. “I can see that, you dumbass. I mean, why the hell hasn’t she spoken to me?”

“The hell do you care?” Izzy answers, taking a swig of his tequila. “You hate each other anyway.”

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen her so...relaxed.” Axl remarks, bringing his beer to his lips.

“I mean, I’d be too if I was having as much sex as she was,” Slash grins, dropping a teasing wink in his wife’s direction.

Axl pauses, brows drawn together. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Hesitantly, Slash’s wife clears her throat, chiming into the conversation for the first time that night. “Alright, look, this does not leave the table, hear me?” When everyone nods, she continues. “I promised I’d keep this to myself, but Y/N’s had sex with twenty guys in the past five days.”

Axl’s eyes nearly roll out of his head when the table laughs. He seems to have missed what was funny.

“No shit!” Duff laughs, clapping his hands together.

“That’s fucking impressive,” Izzy smirks.

“So what does that bring her count to total?” Steven asks, fully aware of Axl’s bright red face. He laughs to himself. The singer was hopeless, making it way too easy for the group to fuck with him.

“Seventy bodies,” Slash’s wife cocks her head to the side. Something about her words, her gesture, is taunting. “How many did you say you had again, Axl?”

“Seventy-three,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Wait,” Izzy and Slash say together, “You haven’t fucked anyone since Y/N?”

“Dude, that was over two months ago,” Duff says in a teasing manner.

“It’s not like I haven’t fucking tried!” Axl exclaims, slamming his palm down on the table. He takes a deep breath, finding his composure, and lowers his voice. “I keep getting rejected and I don’t fucking know why.”

“Oh, the horror,” Izzy says, rolling his eyes. “All will be right in the world when Axl finds some random chick to bang.”

Slash and his wife snicker and share a look. Axl shakes his head. He senses something is wrong, but he can’t call anyone out without proof.

Something about you having almost the same amount of bodies as him didn’t sit right. No one in his life even came close. Then again, no one was so obsessed with sex like Axl was. No one was so open about their sex life.

Against his better judgment, Axl finds himself striding toward the bar, visibly irritated as the man next to you rests his palm right above your ass. Axl grabs the man’s wrist and pulls it from your body, pushing him away from you. He ignores the man’s protests, throws back the rest of whatever piss warm beer the dude had been drinking, flips him off, before turning back to you.

The shock on your face is evident. “There is something seriously wrong with you. What the hell, Axl?”

“Seventy bodies?” Axl says, voice condescending. “Some prostitutes don’t even have that many.”

Your blood boils and you swear to yourself you see red. The audacity of this man to shame you. “I see you’re still a dick. What the hell does it matter to you, huh? What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Axl’s laugh is light, breathy, as he restrains himself from screaming. “My problem is that I haven’t fucked something in two months. I’m going fucking feral.”

“Seems like a you problem,” you retort, puckering your lips before taking a drink. Axl’s book suddenly feels heavy in your purse. You sneak a look to make sure the purse is properly zipped before glancing back to the fuming redhead. “What would you like me to do about it?”

It all comes out in a rush. “I don’t know! Suck my dick, ride me, do something!” Axl cringes when you giggle, face heating. Holy fucking desperate.

“Are you...is Axl Rose...begging?”

He throws his head back in annoyance. This wasn’t going as planned. “I--no. Fuck. Ignore that. Can’t we just go back to my place or something?”

“I thought you didn’t fuck the same girl twice?” You remind him of his words, and you can tell by his face he regrets saying them.

But he remains cool, standing up straight, all the while contradicting his previous statement. “I don’t.”

Finishing your drink, you set it to the side. Batting your lashes, you step forward, a mere centimeter apart from Axl’s face. His breath is raggedy, lips parted, and you see it coming. He leans forward to kiss you, but you’re too quick. Brushing your lips against his ear, palm flat against his chest, you utter the words as confidence floods your veins. “If you don’t want the same pussy twice, then what makes you think I want the same dick twice?”

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twokinkybeans · 4 years

Text

Seven Inches - Starker Tailor!AU

Find it here on AO3

Wrote this piece for the lovely bean Lien for a very unplanned fic exchanged that somehow blew itself into existence! <3 She needed a tailor!au in her life. Well, here ya go sweetie!

Summary: Peter's hands are a little shaky as he wraps the tape measure around Tony’s chest and huffs a frustrated breath when the tips of his fingers slip past his ribcage. “Kid, it’s okay. You can touch me,” Tony smirks, clearly amused at Peter’s awkward attempts to avoid touching him.

Aside from being in college and keeping his neighborhood safe in the evening hours, Peter Parker works in May's Tailoring shop as a Tailor In Learning. One day, Tony Stark, Peter's all-time-favorite idol, sets foot in the shop. It doesn't take long for Peter to figure out Tony wants more than a suit.

---

Seven Inches

Peter hums along with the soft beat of Señorita as he hits the ‘send’ button for yet another order. The man that had been here earlier had wanted a special jacquard wedding suit. Peter loves tailoring wedding suits. Loves it when his customers have specific requests. In the end, they opted for a black tropical print as that matches the man’s dark slicked-back hair perfectly. The print is going to look perfect on the jacquard fabric and he can’t wait to see the end result of this particular piece. He hopes the man will love it but he feels pretty sure about this one. He glances at the clock behind him and smiles. Two more hours to kill before he gets to go home and finally play that new video game with Ned. His best friend had been bragging about for weeks in a row now. It’s hard balancing working in May’s shop, attending lectures, and studying to pass his exams and on top of that also being Spider-Man at night. Ned understands that Peter doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with him, but whenever they do it’s definitely some high-end quality time.

Peter looks up startled at the jingling noise indicating that another customer has walked into the shop. Peter looks up from his clipboard and a smile immediately finds its way onto his face. After years of working in May’s shop, it has become an automatic reaction. A Pavlov reaction to the bell. Peter grins at the thought. “Good afternoon, Sir, welcome to-” Peter’s voice catches in his throat when he sees that the man is no one other than Mr. Tony Stark. He gulps and mentally kicks himself for his reaction. “-welcome to May’s Tailoring, how may I help you?” Mr. Stark sends him his characteristically charming smirk and doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he eyes at Peter, causing the boy’s cheeks to flush. “You’re not May Parker, are you?” Peter is dumbfounded for a moment until he spots the man’s playful demeanor and laughter bubbles up in his throat. He shakes his head sheepishly and relaxes. “No, Sir. Peter. Peter Parker. I work here every now and then.” “How convenient. You’re her son?” “Nephew.” “Fair, fair-” Tony teases and walks up to the counter, still eyeing him. “We must’ve missed each other the other times I’ve been here, I-”

“You’ve been here?” Peter blurts only then realizing his mistake. “I-I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to pry, I just-” Peter cuts himself off before he makes this situation even worse. He always told himself he’d act cool if he would ever meet his idol. Well, so far for keeping it casual. Mr. Stark must get this all the time and Peter wishes he’d been able to contain himself instead of exposing his inner fangirl from the very first second. Tony waves it off nonchalantly. “Don’t stress it, kid. I’m flattered.” He clears his throat to break the slight tension. “I need a new suit, obviously. Do you take measurements too or are you only in here for sales?” “No, no I do. Aren’t your measurements in our system already, Mr. S-” “No.” Peter cocks an eyebrow at the man and the billionaire rolls his eyes. “Well, they are. However, I’m not exactly consistent in my health habits so,” he gestures at his own body. “-I want to make sure it actually fits.” “Of course. What are you looking for?” Peter opens the right tab in the computer’s system to fill our the information and have a quick check at the old numbers anyways. Any reference would only make his job easier. He can’t believe May never told him about this. She knows just how obsessed he is with the CEO of Stark Industries, or Iron Man. Both. The dark-haired man in front of him is both genius and hot. Peter looks up to him, only hoping to ever be that smart or handsome. He sighs quietly and a faint smile plays on his lips. This, this is exactly why his aunt kept it in the dark.

“Well, I have this stupid gala coming up and I’m looking for a royal blue lounge suit. Preferably with three buttons, single-breasted. The linen May used last time was perfect, is it still available?” Peter quickly scribbles down the man’s requests on the little notepad he keeps at the counter and then glances up at the screen to figure out what exact fabric the man’s talking about. “Oh, I’m afraid that one only comes in either burgundy, black, or a cloudy gray. We do have a very similar fabric that might come in blue, let me check, and-” “Burgundy.” “What?” “I’ll go with burgundy. I love that fabric and I don’t think I own any piece of clothing in that color yet.” “Are you sure, Mr. Stark? It really is no big deal to find something blue,” Peter tries, not wanting to make the man feel as if there are no options to choose from. Heck. The options are endless for a man so wealthy. Tony shakes his head adamantly. “I want this one.”

Peter shrugs as he decides not to question nor judge the man’s impulsive choice and he picks up his pen to cross ‘royal blue’ and add ‘burgundy’ instead. He opens the top right drawer to take the tape measure - which of course isn’t there. Tony snorts at Peter’s displeased face. “You’re exactly like your aunt.” “She’s the only reason things are never where they’re supposed to be.” Peter sighs, his tone playful though. He loves his aunt, and there should be enough tape measures around the shop to make up for the one he can’t find right now. They’re scattered everywhere. “I should be able to find one… Here!” Peter grins triumphantly as he grabs one from the bottom shelf in the closet behind him. “Let’s get to the back, Mr. Stark.” “Tony, call me Tony.”

Peter has to force himself to not stare at Mr. Stark’s gorgeous body in front of him. All the man is wearing now are the tight black boxers and it has Peter half-hard in his jeans. He can’t stop glancing sideways as he expertly takes the necessary measurements for the sleeves and shoulders of the lounge suit. Blushing every time his finger’s brush past Tony’s warm skin. He tries. He really tries to keep his hands from touching but completely dodging it is simply impossible with this job. He scribbles down the numbers on his little notepad and bites down his lips as he realizes the next step is the man’s chest. His waist. His hips and then, oh god, his thighs. Peter gulps as he steps towards Tony’s right side. He’s a professional. He’s done this countless times. Fuck, May trusts him to run the shop by himself, and here he is, thinking the most inappropriate thoughts about the richest man of the States. He has to get a grip on himself, but it sure doesn’t help that the man stars basically all of his dirty little fantasies. His hands are a little shaky as he wraps the tape around Tony’s chest and huffs a frustrated breath when the tips of his fingers slip past his ribcage. “Kid, it’s okay. You can touch me,” Tony smirks, clearly amused at Peter’s awkward attempts to avoid touching him. “Mr. Sta- Tony. I’m so sorry. I don’t usually get like, well, this-” his cheeks flush even more and he groans. He couldn’t even keep his mouth shut if his life would depend on it. “Mmh-” Tony hums playfully. “-get on with it then.” Peter looks up at Tony’s face and the blatant flirtatious grin knocks the air out his lungs. Oh, God. This isn’t happening. He feels the little surge of arousal in his groin and licks his lips, casting his eyes down at hands. At the number that indicates the perimeter of Tony’s chest. Right. He’s taking measurements. The sooner he finishes this, the sooner he can forget about his embarrassing behavior.

“I’m just gonna…” his voice trails off and he bites down on his lip as he sinks down onto one knee at Tony’s side. Peter wraps the tape around Tony’s thigh shakily and he’s ashamed to admit he loves the strong, lean muscles underneath his touch. Tony shifts his weight, causing the muscles to tense, and Peter nearly gasps. “Boy, you alright down there?” “Yes, yes Sir. I-” “Tell me, kid. How old are you?” Peter’s head shoots up at that, searching the man’s face. He isn’t exactly certain why the man is asking him that. He has an idea, though, and the mere thought has his breath hitch in his throat. “I’m nineteen, Sir.” “Good to know. Now, finish up.” “Of course,” Peter rushes out and scribbles down the number. The stern order finally clearing his mind a little and his hands find back their usual rhythm. It doesn’t take long for him to finish. His eyes scan past the page quickly to see if there’s anything he’s missed, but nope, he’s all good like that, so he gets up from the floor, taking a step back.

“Alright, Tony, you can uh, dress again. I’ll see you at the counter to discuss the details.” “Sure thing, Peter.” The man doesn’t move though and Peter wonders what would happen if he’d drop to his knees again. Would Tony take the offer? He wants to ask. He’s so close to actually going for it. He can’t, though. He wouldn’t be able to stand the rejection. This is Tony fucking Stark, and he’s just some kid working in his aunt’s shop. Surely Tony must’ve had better offers. Without another word, he turns his back to Mr. Stark and makes his way to the counter to fill out the digital form to complete the order.

He almost asked the man to fuck him, and he’s not sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed that he didn’t.

“May?” Peter squeaks and he groans at the way his voice betrays him. He hopes May will simply see it as his usual nervous babbling and won’t blink an eye. “Can I work this Thursday?” May looks up from her iPad and smirks, rolling her eyes at him. Peter blushes. She knows what he’s up to. “This is why I didn’t tell you, Pete.” “I know, I know!” He exclaims and sinks into the couch. “But now that I found out, surely you can’t deny me that little bit of pleasure?” May grins at him, shaking her head. “Fine, fine, I’ll take a day off. God, he’s sexy isn’t he?” His aunt wiggles her eyebrows at him. “May!” She laughs and Peter blushes. She found out just how deep his obsession with the billionaire ran one day a couple years ago when she walked in on him jerking off to one of his many posters. It’s hands down one of the most embarrassing moments of his entire life. She didn’t judge him for it, though, Peter is still very grateful about that. It also had been his coming-out to her, the first time he ever told anyone he’s gay. She simply gave him time to get dressed and then they talked about it for a bit. No matter how mortifying the start of the conversation had been, the moment definitely made him grow a stronger bond with her. She’s so much more than his aunt now. She’s his big sister. His friend. Maybe even his parent - something he still finds hard to wrap his head around but it’s the truth.

“Well, isn’t he? I don’t believe you didn’t watch at his abs.” “Hnnngh, I did actually.” “See?” “Fuck, he’s hot, May.” Peter groans, hugging a pillow into his chest. “Should I even help him again? Isn’t that like, against tailor-ethics?” “Oh you, don’t worry so much about it. Just don’t do anything stupid.” She pauses for a moment and Peter figures he shouldn’t tell her how he almost offered the man to fuck him right there and then. “No matter how cocky the man presents himself, he’s not like that at all.” “What do you mean?” “I can’t say I know him, but… I’d say deep down he’s genuinely a sweet man.”

Those are the words that echo in his mind when Tony walks into the shop that Thursday. Peter musters a smile onto his face and can’t help the tingly feeling from spreading through his chest when he sees Tony’s eyes light up as he spots Peter behind the counter. “Morning, kid!” “Good morning, Sir.” Peter beams, knowing he doesn’t have to address Tony like that. He wants to, though. It has a nice ring to it. “You’re too polite for your own good, kid,” Tony grunts, walking up to him. “-good to see you again though. I was hoping you would be here.” “You were?” “Yeah.” Tony sniffs and leans forward on the counter. Peter’s breath catches in his throat. The man’s face mere inches away. His eyes so daring and playful that Peter is almost dreading the next string of words. “You’re cute.”

Peter’s cheeks burn up and he swallows, a sudden bold feeling overcoming him when he too leans on the counter and grins. “What exactly are you implying here, Mr. Stark?” The man grins at the question. “I like boys like you, Peter. Young. Handsome. Cute.” Tony licks his lips and stands up straight again. “I’m no predator, though. I’ve laid out my cards, and I’m leaving the choice up to you.” Peter can’t believe what he’s hearing. Can’t believe how straightforward Tony is. Oh God, Mr. Stark thinks he’s handsome and cute. Fuckable. “I-I-” he stutters, fingers digging into the counter, only to let go quickly. He doesn’t want to accidentally break the wood with his super strength. Tony doesn’t give him time to answer. “So, how’s my suit?”

Peter inhales sharply, trying to recompose himself. He’s at work. He should do his damned job. May wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t. “You can try it on in the back. There’s a large mirror directly on the right. Call me if you need me.” Peter picks the right suit from the rack behind him and hands it to Tony. Smiling innocently. Two can play a game. He knows the man has worn so many suits in his life that he would never actually need Peter’s help. He hopes Tony will pretend, though, pretend not to know how it works. Calling for Peter to rescue him. He sighs out loud, glancing at the doors. Peter isn’t usually very confident with things like these, but Tony is so clearly hitting on him that he wants their little game to continue. Please, please call out for me.

“Peter? I think I need some help.”

Ever since that day, Peter checks May’s work schedule obsessively. She notices but doesn’t really comment on it. She’s sweet like that. Peter knows Tony could drop in without an appointment as well, like last time. He tries to work as many shifts as he can with his college schedule. Just in case. Just in case the man will step in to demand yet another suit. Peter’s not gonna lie, he’s been watching the new interview with Mr. Stark where he actually wears the burgundy suit they had with him right before the gala. The color just fits so well with the man’s tanned skin and his dark hair. Watching him wear it makes Peter’s mind flash back to the teasing that occurred in the shop and he can’t help think of it as his suit. Peter’s.

Peter is actually splayed out on his bed now. He’s got half an hour to kill before he leaves to the shop again so he scrolls through Tony’s Instagram account, gawking over the beautiful pictures from the same night. He remembers his fingers brushing past the man’s skin. Remembers kneeling, feeling his strong thighs flexing underneath his touch. Most of all, he remembers the soft “Pretty boy,” the man had whispered, fingers dragging through his curls while Peter had checked how well the suit fits him. It’s been three weeks. Three long weeks in which Peter has jerked off every single night just thinking about those words. Imagining how it’d feel to have the man pushed balls deep inside of him. His fingers swipe up on the phone screen and tap on his contact list, scrolling down until he sees Tony’s name appear on the screen. He knows it’s not exactly fair but he saved it in his phone from the information Tony gave them for the shop’s clientele system. Tony’s only one call away. However, Peter can’t bring himself to follow through. He hates it. He hates how he doubts everything. He isn’t sure whether he just wants to fuck the man or go on a date with him. Perhaps both. Maybe nothing at all. He’s worried he only likes the man because he’s been idolizing him for years now. Because when he thinks about it, even in the store, they haven’t actually talked much. Some jokes here and there, some basic information he needed for the suit and the sexual innuendo from last time. That’s it. But then, people fuck actual strangers. Peter at least knows who this is. That’s already a plus, right? Gosh, sleeping around has never been this difficult. Not that he’s done it often but it’d definitely been different.

He sighs, dragging his ass out of bed to leave for the shop. The longer he waits here the more he’ll start to doubt himself. At least work will distract him for a bit. With Valentine’s Day coming up there are more requests than usual and Peter loves keeping busy. He fastens the shoelaces tightly and smiles at himself in the mirror, readjusting the collar of his white button-up shirt. “May, I’m off!” “Wait- Pete hold up!” May’s voice comes from the kitchen and he cocks an eyebrow as he waits for her to catch up with him. “I just got a phone call. Guess who?” Peter’s eyes widen. Either it’s Mrs. Cortes from the apartment beneath them or Mr. Stark. Seeing the shimmer in May’s eyes, it’s the latter. “No way!” “Yes, Peter. He asked for you, specifically. He’s coming in at two for a new suit.” Peter’s mind is spinning. He’s seeing his crush again. Tony Stark asked for him. “Peter, is there something going on that I should know about?” “No? I mean? I don’t know?” May raises her eyebrows at him and Peter groans. “I think he wants to fuck me?” “What?! Peter!” “I know! I don’t know!” He exclaims and adjusts the backpack sliding off his shoulder. “He’s been hinting at it?” “And you want him to, that’s why you’ve been working at the shop so much lately.” May groans and shakes her head. “Peter, I don’t even know what to say. Did something happen?” Peter shakes his head frantically, blushing. “Just… Flirting.” “Flirting. You’ve been flirting with our most important customer.” “He started it!” May huffs at his words and Peter knows he fucked up big time. “Look, May, I’m sorry-” “Peter. I don’t… I’m not angry with you. It’s just...” May sighs and Peter presses his lips together. “Mr. Stark is handsome. Sexy. I know that he’s your superhero and all that. He’s charming and sweet, but I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

What?

“You’re not going to fire me?” “No. I guess I’m not. I probably should, but, you’re old enough to decide who and who not to fuck. And I can’t blame you for wanting to ride his di-�� “May!” Peter’s cheeks are glowing hot with embarrassment now. “What? I’ve been young too. You think I never did anything like that?” Peter squeezes his eyes shut to banish the intrusive images from his thoughts. He did not want to know that. “Just be careful. He’s more than twice your age. I want you to really think about this.” May sighs, shaking her head. “And please lock the door, I don’t need to lose customers to this.” Peter can’t believe what she’s saying. Is she really telling him to go for it? “May, I don’t-” May simply grins at him and presses a kiss on Peter’s forehead. “Have a good day at work, honey!”

It’s safe to say Peter anxiously waits for 2 pm to come around. He’s a wreck. Now that May knows about this it’s so real. So very real that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s an easy day, only one appointment at 10 am for a simple black tux. The man bought one by himself but the sleeves were two inches too long. He promised the man it would be ready tomorrow and Peter was thanked for the quick service. Peter mindlessly worked on both sleeves and stored the jacket away carefully when he was done. May still needs to teach him a lot, but the sleeve work is something he can do himself. He stares at the clock. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes until Mr. Stark will walk in here again. God. Peter is horny. And scared. What if it’d been nothing more than a silly game? But then, the man had told him he’d wait for Peter to make a move. That seemed to be a pretty serious offer.

Right?

The door jingles and Peter jumps up startled, his head whipping around only to find the devil himself standing in the doorway. Peter gulps. He’s wearing the burgundy suit. Tony Stark is wearing his suit. “H-Hello, Mr. Stark,” he stammers. “You’re early.” “I arrived precisely when I meant to,” Tony joked, referring Lord Of The Rings, and Peter can’t help chuckling at that. “Didn’t take you for such a nerd.” Peter snorts and visibly relaxes now that Tony is actually here. The man fake-gasps. “Did you just call me out on my fantastic taste in movies?” “I may have.” “Well, then you’re a nerd too. Knew that from day one though.” Tony jests. Peter raises an eyebrow at him and shakes his head slightly. “What gave it away?” “Are you aware that you wear batman vans to work?” Peter blushes and glances down at his feet. Dammit. He wears the pair so mindlessly that he hadn’t given it a second thought. Ever. Okay, he is a nerd.

“So, how can I help you, Gandalf?” Tony snickers and shakes his head. “Need a new suit.” “Something wrong with this one?” Peter waves at the burgundy one he’s wearing now. “No, I love it. I’ve got a little press conference coming up though, and well, I need to spend my money on something now don’t I? I was thinking a deep blue tweed suit. Do you two work with that?” “A tweed suit? I- Yes, we do.” Peter scribbles it down again and then searches for all the possible options in the system. “Alright for deep blue we have two options.” Peter turns the screen around so Tony can see. “The first one is woven using the herringbone structure. The color is slightly darker than… This one, woven using a twill structure. It might feel more sturdy but the color is lighter.” “Which one do you recommend?” “Depends. Herringbone is classier, twill more casual. Most people won’t see the difference...” “But you do.” “I do.”

It’s silent for a moment. Somehow, those words were spoken like a confession and they both feel it. Peter looks up at Tony and sends him a little smile before reaching for the tape measure that’s dangling from his neck this time. “Peter,” Tony breathes, his nostrils flaring. “-is this you making your choice?” “Well, Mr. Stark…” Peter grins and walks to the entrance. The loud click when he turns the key is his answer. He turns the sign, stating that the shop is now closed. When he turns around again, he tilts his head slightly. “Follow me.” Peter walks past Tony, not waiting for the man’s response. This is his chance. He knows the man wants him.

“Alright. If you would please undress yourself, Sir? I can take your measurements.” Tony raises his eyebrows at him. “You already have my-” “Wouldn’t want to risk your suit not fitting due to your fluctuating health habits now would we.” Peter teases, repeating the words Tony had spoken to him the first time. Tony licks his lips and moves his hands up to unbutton the burgundy jacket. Peter watches how Tony undresses himself slowly. He’s not even trying to be sexy about it. Quiet. Practical. Almost authoritative and Peter’s already hard again. When the man pushes the pants down, Peter’s pleased to see the man is hard too. And fuck, he’s… Well, big. “Get to it, boy.” “Yes, Sir.” Peter rushes and he takes the tape between both his hands to work through the little measuring ritual. Just as he did the first time. As he always does. Starting with the wrists, lower arm length, upper arm length. This time he doesn’t try to minimize the contact with Tony’s skin. The opposite. He takes every chance he gets to trails his fingertips past the man’s body. He deliberately steps in front of the man when he measures his chest. It’s unprofessional to stand in front of a customer instead of at the side, and yet that’s why it feels so exhilarating. He takes a step closer as he wraps the tape around the man’s hips, his hands lingering just above the hem of Tony’s underwear. He doesn’t cave in yet. Instead, he looks up at Tony who’s staring back at him, eyes full of lust. “I just need to measure your legs, Sir.” “Get on your knees, then.” Peter moans and obeys, slowly sinking down until his knees hit the floor. His face is just inches away from Tony’s crotch but he doesn’t break eye contact with the man towering over him. “That’s it,” Tony coos, his hand reaching out for Peter’s curls. The boy gasps when Tony grabs a handful and tugs slightly. “Such a pretty boy.”

The sparks that rush down Peter’s spine have him gasp. For the first time he realizes how this man will be a complete different fuck than than the handful he’s had. This man is older. Has a shit ton of experience. He’s impatiently patient. He’s going to make Peter work for it and the thought alone sets off another surge of desire coursing through his veins. His hands are sweaty and trembling as he brings them up to circle the tape around Tony’s strong thigh. “You’re so strong, Mr. Stark.” “You like that?” “Mh-mh, I do.” “If you’re good for me and finish the measurements, I may just allow you to kiss them.” Peter whines at the blatant promise and his hands move down, mindlessly finishing up his measuring series. He can’t really concentrate on it. All he notices is how the grip in his hair changes, tugging more, making him tip his head to expose his neck. Pushing him down, making him bow. He’s a puppet, Tony controls his every single move. He’s never submitted to someone so easily and he’s never loved it as much as he does now. “Peter, look at me.” Tony forces Peter’s head to tip back and he gasps, staring up with his big brown eyes. With his free hand, Tony pushes his boxers down and Peter nearly chokes at the sight of just how big he actually is. It’s a beautiful cock. Hard, fierce, massive. Peter wants to taste it. Wants to lap his tongue at the hot skin to taste the salty precum. “Measure it.” “Wh-” “I’m not repeating myself.” Tony smirks and Peter shuffles closer. Bringing his hands up carefully. He whimpers when his fingers touch the cock as he presses the tape against both the base and the tip. “Tell me how big it is, Peter.” Peter moans as he looks at the number. Oh god, that’s bigger than average for sure. “S-Seven inches, Sir.” “Have you ever had anyone that big?” “No, I haven’t.” “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, sugar.” Tony growls. He opens his free hand and curls his fingers in a demanding motion. “Give me the tape measure.” Peter easily complies and gives it to Tony. The man grins and wraps it around Peter’s neck to pull him in closer. Peter wants to lean in, wants to take that pretty cock into his mouth so badly, but the grip in his hair holds him back. “You sure you want this, Peter? Do I have your full consent?” Peter nods furiously. Yes, he wants this. Wants everything. “Yes, Mr. Stark. I do.” “Good. Suck.” Tony yanks the boy forward using both the tape around Peter’s neck and the grip in his curls. Peter gasps, scrambling forward and parting his lips to catch the man’s cock in his mouth. He moans, lips closing around the soft flesh and drags his tongue across the tip, eliciting a moan from Tony. Oh god. He just made Tony Stark moan. For him. The thought spurs him on and he sinks deeper onto it, loving how it fills his mouth. He’s got the worst gag reflex, already knows he won’t be able to take it fully, but he sure as fuck knows how to work his tongue to make the man’s knees buckle.

“Oh, oh damn, boy, you’re so fucking good at this. Been wanting this the second I laid my eyes on your pretty face.” Peter whines around the cock and shuffles closer. He doesn’t use his hands, somehow he knows Tony wouldn’t allow him to if he tried. He’s bobbing his head up and down, the musky smell pleasing him to his very core as he manages to suck deeper and deeper with each thrust the man makes. “I want you to touch yourself, dear. Take that cock out and stroke it for me. Don’t go slow. I want you to wreck yourself, understood?” Peter nods as much as he physically can in this position and moves both his hands down. Quickly unbuckling the belt and shoving the fabric down just enough for his hard-on to jump free. His right hand wraps around it and he strokes. Hard. And fast. And rough. Making himself see stars the way Tony told him to. His eyes flutter shut. It’s overwhelming. The rumbling grunts rolling of Mr. Stark’s tongue while the grip in Peter’s hair tightens. The burning pit in his stomach that only burns up more and more and more the faster he strokes himself. He wants to swallow every last bit Tony will give him. He swirls his tongue around the head, sucking and hollowing his cheeks. Gasping, moaning, taking and taking and taking what the man gives him.

“Are you close, boy?” Peter nods desperately. He doesn’t stop, though, doesn’t stop from flicking his thumb around the head, squeezing his own shaft with every little pump. Hips bucking wildly into his touch. His moans muffled by Tony’s hips thrusting forward in a fast, unforgiving pace. “I want you to come like this, baby. Desperate and needy and without shame.” Peter mumbles a short please around Tony’s cock. He’s not sure if the man got it, but, his eagerness as he keeps going down on the man clear enough. “Fuck, sugar, ‘m gonna cum inside of you. You’re gonna take it all, uh? Isn’t this what you’ve been dreaming of? Being used by me? I can hear the fucking awe in your voice when you speak my name. You were ready for me before I even met you.” Yes, yes, yes! Peter gasps, abs clenching tight as he collapses forward. His hands moving up and down in a killer pace until-

“F-fc!” His broken curse around Mr. Stark’s cock when he spills his cum on the tile floor. Another spurt leaves him. And another. His thighs are trembling and his mind is spinning. The explosion in his stomach is so wonderfully sweet and he feels so filthy and good and used in the exact way he loves it so much. Tony growls at the sight. “Good boy, Pete. Fuck, good boy. ” Peter doesn’t exactly follow what happens next, but suddenly Tony is no longer holding the tape around his neck. Both his hands tangled into his hair tightly to fuck his mouth, pounding into him relentlessly. Peter just submits to the complete and utter control the man has over him. Moving his face where he wants him. Setting the pace. “Yes, oh, you’re going to swallow for me, pretty little thing. Feel so good, so hot around me. Prettiest mouth I’ve ever had. You’re perfect, Peter. Fucking p-perfect, I’m go-” Tony’s voice breaks off into a loud growl, hips stuttering and rolling forward desperately. “Take it, take it! I- Aaah!” Peter’s eyes widen when he feels the hot load spill into his mouth. The familiar taste exploding on his taste buds. He whimpers, swallowing. His mind hazy and floaty and he just wants to devour every single drop of it. Make the man proud. Please him.

Peter moans quietly when he feels the man’s cock softening up in his mouth. He’s not sure why he’s still on his knees. Still gently suckling on the hot, sticky skin. All he knows is that he feels good. That he doesn’t want this feeling to end. He’s never had such good sex and jokes on him, it’d been nothing more than a quick blowjob. It’s only when Tony gently tugs on his hair that he opens his eyes again, staring up at the man when the cock slips out. A soft breath leaving his slightly parted lips. His jaws ache and he loves it. Loves the enamored look the man sends his way. “Peter, sweetheart…” Tony whispers. “Are you alright down there?” Peter nods, a smile playing on his lips as he closes them. He nuzzles his face into the man’s leg. Only vaguely aware that he might be displaying a tad too much affection for someone he barely knows. He simply feels so happy. “I feel good, Mr. Stark.” “God, you’re precious.” Tony kneels down as well, cradling Peter into his arms. Stroking his back, whispering the sweetest praise into his ears until slowly the veil lifts from his mind and he becomes aware of his surroundings again. The tape measure dangling from his neck once more, the cum staining on the tiles. The fact that he just fucked Tony Stark in his aunt’s tailoring shop. Oh my- “W-We should probably get dressed before anyone wonders why we’re closed,” Peter mumbles and he slowly leans back from the embrace, smiling at Tony apologetically. He slides his cock back into his jeans and buckles his belt tightly. Tony nods. “Of course. I… Should probably get dressed too.”

They don’t speak when Tony dresses, when Peter grabs a towel and soap to clean up the little mess he made. Not when they walk back to the counter and Peter finishes Tony’s order for the tweed suit. He’s not so sure what to say. Doesn’t know why he’s so silent all of a sudden. What could he say? Thank you, Mr. Stark, that was the best fuck of my pathetic little life. See you never? It’s Tony who breaks the silence. “Are you alright, kid?” “Y-Yes. I’m just finishing up this section of the form and then I can send-” “Peter, look at me.” Peter looks up reluctantly. The man is so fucking gorgeous in the burgundy suit. Peter doesn’t know how he’ll ever find someone to live this up with. “I… Here, this is my business card. It uh, has my phone number on there in case you- well.” Tony sniffs. “I guess I’m telling you to call me if you ever want to come by my penthouse.” Peter’s eyes open wide. “You’d want to do this again?” Tony nods. “I like you. You’re pretty, funny, nerdy enough for my liking. You’re smart, I can tell. And that mouth of yours…” Tony grins. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that, Sir.” “I like it when you call me that.” “I like calling you that.”

They’re silent again for a moment. Now that the sexual tension is out of their system - already building again a bit - Peter feels so many things and he can see the same emotions cross Tony’s eyes. He wonders what it means. Wonders how badly he wants to find out. “Please, Peter. Give me a call.” “I will,” Peter whispers, but he looks up at Tony and smiles widely. More resolutely, he repeats himself. “I will.”

“So,” Peter chuckles as he hands Tony the receipt for the tweed suit. He doesn’t tell Tony he completely forgot to write down any of the measurements he did, but he’s fairly sure that the man’s body didn’t change that much in just three weeks time so he used the once he took before. “-what are you doing tonight?” “Oh, it’s nothing. Some shit for the Avengers.” Peter’s cheeks flush. Oh, how he wishes he could ever be a part of it. He never thought he’d get the chance, but now that he knows Tony Stark personally. Who knows if he ever has the guts to ask. “Avengers? Is there a threat?” “No, no, nothing to worry about. There’s someone I want to recruit. You may have heard of him, some dude calling himself Spider-Man? He’s…” Peter freezes. He doesn’t quite follow what Tony says next. So casually. So- unwavering. He should come clean. He has to, he has to, he has to!” “I-I’m Spider-Man!” He squeaks. The look on Tony’s face is priceless. “Fuck, well kid, welcome to the team.”

---

Part Two: Inch By Inch

Are you curious about the Stripper/Prostitute!AU Lien wrote for the fic exchange? Find it here! Seriously, it’s amazing.

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wheezy-kasp-brak · 4 years

Text

Team Zero (Hargreeves Siblings x Sibling Reader)

Summary: After being sent back in time and finding their father, the eight academy kids have ‘A Light Supper’ with him.

A/N: This is a really gross, unedited page because I really wanted to write this scene. I wrote this in only a few hours and I think I could’ve done a crap ton better but I really wanted to post this so...

Warnings: season two spoilers, mild swearing

Word count 2589

gif credit to @tuagifs

After the draining argument with their siblings, the last thing y/n expected to receive was a letter from their father.

To my pursuers,

I, Reginald Hargreeves, request the pleasure of your company for a light supper on the 20th of November, 1963, half past seven o’clock, 1624 Magnolia Street.

They had received the letter from a strange man in a black car. At first, y/n hesitated to believe it was really from their father but they knew their father better than anyone, even Luther despite what he thinks.

The level of extra Reginald went through to get this letter to them told them all they needed to know so, on the 20th of November, 1963, they arrived at 1624 Magnolia Street just before half past seven.

The building was a tall hotel and the decor very much fit the era they were living in. They wandered towards the back where they slipped in an elevator next to their brother five. Not too soon after, their other siblings joined them in the small box.

“Good, you’re all here” Five face sported his usual smirk and his body language screamed cocky arrogant asshole however, everyone remained quiet on the lift up to the highest floor.

That was until a rather rancid smell reached their noses. “Ugh.. Luther!”

“Sorry, I’m nervous.” The group covered their noses until the doors finally opened, allowing them to take a deep breath of fresh air.

“Alright, when dad gets here, I’ll do the talking.” Fives natural attempt to assert himself failed quickly when Diego snapped back.

“I got a few questions for him myself.”

Y/n rolled their eyes. The seven of them never seemed to be able to enter a room without starting some kind of fight or argument. “Hey, we don’t wanna scare him off alright, he might be able to help us stop doomsday, get us home.”

“No Five, we need to figure out why he’s planning to kill the president.” It’s amazing how hung up on the presidents assassination Diego is, why can’t he just let this go?

“This is a matter of life or death you imbecile.” Sensing that their other siblings were about to chime in, y/n zoned themselves out. Y/n isn’t exactly what you called a team player. They chose to stay quiet and disassociate themselves from their family. Sick of the overbearing weight of having to save the world when they could be doing other things, like being a normal person.

Unfortunately for them, they were soon snapped out of their focused state by a loud crash. What appeared to be some kind of decoration was found shattered in small pieces on the other side of the room.

“Classic.” Allison spit. They all turned their heads when they heard another noise. The doors to the ‘Tiki Lounge” swung open revealing a younger Hargreeves. His posture stood tall and didn’t give them a single glance until he sat at the table, adjusting his sleeves.

“Not only have you burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose, conned your way into the Mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked me, but you have on numerous occasions, called me...”

Klaus finally joined the table with what seemed like some alcoholic beverage. “Hey Pop. How’s it hangin’?

“...dad.” His voice was stern, slightly scary, but more just assertive. The seven children took a moment to all create eye contact before returning to their younger father.

“My reconnaissance tells me you’re not CIA, not KGB, certainly not MI5, so...” he paused to slam his pen to the desk, “who are you?” Everyone stayed silent trying to find the right words before five cut in again.

“We’re your children,” Reginald gave him a displeased look, “We’re from the future.” Dear old Reggie didn’t seem all too happy with the idea of having children, so when the group stayed silent once again y/n finally spoke up from their seat.

“In 1989, you adopted us all and trained us to fight against the end of the world. You called us the umbrella academy.” The sudden joining of the conversation brought all the attention to them. It surprised the rest of their siblings, seeing as y/n normally just minded their own business. However, they supposed this was their business.

“Why on earth would I adopt seven-”

“Eight. One of us isn’t here.” Allison corrected.

“Dead. One of us is dead.” Diego filled in the answer to what they assumed Reggie’s next question would be.

“Yeah, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba. Enough of that now.” Klaus spun in his seat, talking to what looked like an empty chair to the rest of them.

Could he just be quiet for FIVE MINUTES.

When he spun back he noticeably shuddered and then it clicked in Klaus’s head. Ignoring the attention from everyone at the table he pushed his chair out and violently pointed his finger at y/n.

“Hey! Get out of my head!” Everyone now turned their looks back to y/n. They had no response other than slouching down into their seat and turning their head to focus back onto the decor.

Reginald took the silence as an invitation to begin speaking again, “Regardless, what would possess me to adopt eight ill-mannered malcontents?”

“We all have special abilities.” Five explained.

“Special?” Reginald Questioned, “In what sense?”

“In the super power sense.” Luther finally joined in on the conversation.

“Call me old fashioned, but I’m a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence. Show me.”

“Everybody wants to see powers all of a sudden.” Allison proceeded to scoff before she was cut off.

“We’re not circus animals, okay? We’re not gonna bounce balls on our noses and clap like seals for your amusement.” Luther attempted to accentuate his point by literally clapping his hands together. That’s when Diego pulled out a knife and allowed it to slice through the air and around Reginald’s head, sinking into a support post behind him.

Reggie decided to pull out his pen and begin writing in one of those god-awful leather bound notebooks he constantly wrote in when they were younger. They all leaned in, upset that he was doing it again.

“What’re you writing?” Diego asked.

“You are zero for two, young man.” At that statement Diego immediately pushed out of his chair, lunging towards their father. However, Five was much faster using his spatial jumps. He managed to flash in front of Diego, effectively preventing him from being shanked by their dad again.

“Stop!” Fives voice was no louder than a whisper although they all still heard him.

“Now that is interesting.” Reginald noted aloud. Once Diego was 'calm’ again. Five relaxed, walking back to his seat.

“All right, uh, quick rundown-”

“Luther, super strength. Klaus can commune with the dead.” As they gestured to Klaus once more their siblings shocked glances paused them once more.

They’re face scrunched up. “What? We all know Five’s definition of quick.” Their sass earned them chuckles from everyone at the table apart from their very loving brother, Five, and their very loving.... father.

“Anyways,” They continued, “Allison can rumor anyone to do anything-”

“Yea, except she never uses it.” This time it was y/n who was cut off by Diego. That comment caused Allison to give him a pointed look.

“I heard a rumor, you punched yourself in the face.” Diego’s eyes turned white and his fist soar through the air and hit his nose straight on. His groan from the pain echoed through the room and Reginald adjusted himself in his seat, clearly unamused and slightly concerned.

This time, the academy kids held in their laughs worried Diego might be the one shanking them.

"And y/n has the power to read minds.” Five attempted to finish the conversation however they all forgot about the sibling who most recently discovered their powers. “And you?”

To this, Vanya lifted her head and everyone’s amused looks soon turned nervous.

“Uh, maybe we don’t take Vanya for a test run.” Luther’s voice was laced with fear and the table tried to agree with him however Vanya seemed to think differently.

“It’s fine. I can handle it.” She reached forward for a fork and glass.

“Handle it?” Allison asked, “Last time you handled it, you definitely blew up the moon.” This time, the six siblings tried to stop her and braced themselves for the impact of what might be the end of the world... again.

Once the fork hit the glass she focused in on the ringing noise and allowed herself to blow up the fruity centerpiece, sending chunks of pineapple and mango flying everywhere.

While they all tried to wipe away the fruit on their clothes Vanya just let out a small “oops.”

“Look, we know you’re involved in a plot to assassinate the president.” To that, Reggie quipped back at Diego.

“You were recently hospitalized, isn’t that correct?” Diego sputtered at the statement. “You still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.”

Diego, pissed off, pulled out a photo of him. “Am I?” He asked, standing up. The photo revealed to be-

“That’s you. That’s two days from now on the grassy knoll at the exact spot the presidents gonna get shot.” Reginald slowly picked up the photo, looking at it for a moment.

“Well... I suppose you’ve solved it. You’ve single-handedly unearthed my nefarious plot.” Y/n was taking it in. They supposed that’s what Diego wanted but, there was sarcasm. A lot of it at that.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” They knew it. “You fancy yourself a do-gooder? The last man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy? This is a fantastic delusion. The sad reality is that you’re a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. More succinctly, a man in over his head.” At this the table was stunned into silence.

Diego allowed one tear to slip out. It rolled down his cheek in solidarity. “You’re wr-r-r-wrong.” He managed to finally stutter out.

He’s right.

Diego’s body shivered. He quickly whipped out another knife and flung it across the table, stabbing y/n’s upper arm. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” His voice was laced with venom and seemed to shut them out of his head.

They pulled the knife out of their arm and pressed a thick napkin to the wound. The knife clattered back across the table. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to stab your sibling?”

The group stayed silent until Five spoke up. Shocker. “Look, forget about the president. We have a catastrophic war coming in five days. We need to figure out how to stop it.”

“Why? Men will always be at war with each other.” Reggie tried to reason.

“No, this isn’t just some war. I’m talking about a doomsday. The end of the world.”

“Well.. You’re the special ones aren’t you?” The group proceeded to glare at him. “Why don’t you band together and do something about it?”

Unbelievable.

The siblings collective annoyed thoughts were soon cut off but their brother, Klaus. His body was suddenly jolted forward, shaking violently. His air way seemed to be cut. They all sat concerned and puzzled.

“Y/n is that-”

“No, I don’t know what that is.”

“Is he having a seizure?”

“Overdosing probably.” Diego muttered. All of sudden a voice and thoughts flooded Y/n’s mind. They were so loud. Y/n pushed their chair back, standing up. Their hands flew up to their ears, as if covering them would stop the words flowing through their head.

“Klaus, Y/n. Now is not the time. What’re you doing?”

The noises only got louder. “I’m...” His voice was strangled and chalky.

Reginald had quite enough of whatever was going on. “Well, out with it boy.”

Klaus took a deep breath and finally spit out, “...Ben!” He soon gasped and fell out of his chair. He continued to shake here and there and allowed a few groans to get out but none of the above concerned any of his siblings enough to do anything.

“Well...” Reggie trailed off, “thank you for coming. I’ve seen about enough.” He stacked up his books and climbed over Klaus’s convulsing body.

“No, I-” Luther tried to speak up, however Hargreeves kept walking. Luther, upset he didn’t get to say anything the whole time he was here, slammed his fists down onto the table. That certainly gained the room attention.

He ripped his shirt open revealing his ape like skin. “Look at what you did to me! Look at it!” Allison nearly spit out her drink and and Five let out an “oh, shit. Why?” with a solid eye roll and slouched into his chair.

“Okay then. Anybody else wish to embarrass themselves this evening?” Nobody moved, obviously not wanting to embarrass themselves. “I guess I’ll-”

“No.” Y/n shook their head. “You don’t get to walk away after that. You don’t get to just leave after destroying our lives and blaming it on us. You forced us to dedicate everything to saving the stupid world and the stupid people who live on it. I never.. We never wanted to do that. We didn’t get a choice to be who we are, so, because you are the one who disfigured our existences, you are going to be the one who helps get everything back on track.” Out of breath, they finally looked up and locked gazes with their father

“If anyone disfigured your lives, it was yourselves.”

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” They paused before continuing the rant, “You know, Reginald, I don’t think I’m the one who forced myself to become afraid of people because their thoughts were so loud. Leading me to dissociating myself from my siblings and the people around me. In fact, I don’t think any of us would be this fucked up had you just allowed us to be our own people with a family and parents who actually loved us. Who wanted to dedicate their time to furthering us in life, not just using us for their own advantages.”

“I’m sure whatever I did was to further you in life. I wouldn’t waste my time on something that I was sure to fail.” Hargreeves looked around the room, noticing the mess of a ‘family’ sitting in front of him. “Clearly, I had a miss in judgement.”

At that he finally turned to leave the room. “You in the culottes?” He motioned to Five. “A word, in private?” Five followed suit leaving the six of them disheveled and wondering what to do next.

The ring of the elevator doors sounded around them. “Well, that went as good as any Hargreeves family function.” At that Y/n zoned out again. Maybe they didn’t want to but that’s what they had practiced after so many years. Pretending like their siblings weren’t even in the room with them.

“Where’d that whole speech come from, Y/n/n?” Allison added them into the ‘conversation.’

“Oh, um, I suppose I was just sick of allowing him to get away with whatever he wanted to.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Diego harped on their response, clearly still upset about Y/n entering his head.

The elevator doors finally opened once more, letting them escape the hellhole of a family meeting they just adjourned. They all flooded into the hallway not making any eye contact. “Team Zero my ass.”

#tua #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreevs #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves

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sarasapen · 4 years

Text

White Roses and Scarlet Letters

Been awhile since I’ve posted or updated due to exams so I’m reposting the first four chapters because why not!

@jason-todd-squad @lucy-roo @rockyrocket15 @toleble @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @belovedbratwonder @aprilchagoyaaa @vespertxne @thatwaspossesion @attackonnat @roseangel013bf

Red Roses and Scarlet Letters

----- Like most people, your life had a routine. You’d wake up early and go for a jog or do some yoga, depending on the weather. Then you’d spend a half hour on your phone, before you glanced at the clock and scrambled to get ready on time. You normally met Dick for breakfast before making your way to work.

Generally, your nights and weekends were more entertaining. You spent your nights donning a domino mask and Kevlar, punching assholes and stopping crime. Saturdays were sleepover nights with Damian, and Sundays were girls’ days.

So, considering you were standing on a rooftop with dead bodies littered around you when you were supposed to be watching a movie, you were not happy.

“Robin, come to my coordinates.”

“Tt.”

You smile slightly, rolling your eyes before you turned your head, catching sight of a man with a red hood and a symbol on his chest. You eyed the symbol skeptically. “I didn’t know the Bats had a new associate.”

The man remained silent, staring you down. His fingers twitched, and you noticed the gun holsters on his thighs. Two guns. Five dead bodies. He had seven bullets left. Okay, so maybe Bruce didn’t have a new associate.

“You gonna threaten me, or shoot me?” You say nonchalantly, gripping your escrima sticks. He moves quickly, and you’re darting to the side before you fully internalise he’s pulling the trigger.

“Alright then,” you huff dryly. “Guess you’re shooting me.” He raises the gun again, and you backflip away from the next bullets, lunging in his direction. Five. Four. Three. The next bullet snags your cape- two- and you swing your leg and attempt to knock him back. He dodges the kick and intercepts your path, moving to flip you. You kick back off the wall, using that as leverage to swing your body around his. You slam your escrima stick into the back of his head the same time his fist comes into contact with your jaw. You slip from his body, and he used the opportunity to kick at your ribs, sending you stumbling. He lunges at you, causing you to slam against the wall. One of his hands is around your throat, cutting off your air supply, and the other is holding his loaded gun, pressed against your temple. You know you can easily break his arm from the position, but for some reason, you can’t seem to move. Even through his voice modulator, the man’s anger is clear when he speaks, the words he growls out making your blood run cold.

“You let Jason Todd die.”

Your eyes widen and you’re going to swing out but instead of shooting you, he drops the gun and slams you back into the wall, your head hitting the wall with a loud CRACK-

-and then all you see is black.

-----

The first thing you register is the pounding in your head.

You groggily try to sit up and wince at the bright lights. A hand on your shoulder pushes you back down- what? No, you need to get up, you need to-

“Lie down.” A voice commands and your body goes limp. The figure looks funny. He looks like a bat. And a man. Hey! Batman!

A whine emerges from your throat as your face scrunches up.

“I don’t wanna,” you protest weakly, trying to get up again. Your voice comes out scratchy, and your throat hurts when you talk. Suddenly there are two hands on both of your shoulders, keeping you on the bed.

“Do you want Alfred to scold?” The voice softens slightly. You shake your head, wincing when it hurts. Fingers dance along your hairline, soothing you.

“Rest. Once you’re better, the family’s going to have a chat.”

“Mkay,” you wrap your fingers around the wrist above your head, and you let sleep overtake you.

-----

When you wake up, you’re alone. Well, for approximately 0.3 seconds before Alfred enters through the door. He’s carrying some meds and soup. He stands over you, making sure you finish every last drop even though your throat hurts like a bitch.

You manage to convince him you’re fine, with Barbara's help, before you spend a good hour or so on trying to conceal the bruises on your neck.

Barbara drives you and the girls to Metropolis to pick up Kara before heading to Central City. Despite all the fun the others seem to be having, you can’t take your mind off the previous night, or off Jason. You had no idea who that man was, or how he knew you were connected to Jason.

The weight of Jason’s death had weighed down on you somewhat heavier than the rest of your family. Bruce became reckless, and almost killed multiple times. Dick went off the grid for 6 whole months, and when he returned, he acted like nothing had happened. No one knows what he did or where he went. Barbara stopped coming to the cave. She still went out on patrol, but didn’t talk to you. Alfred assumed you needed some space, so he gave you that.

As your family pulled away, you started falling into the dark abyss of depression. You resorted to self harm as a way of coping. After Alfred inquiring on your long-sleeves, you moved the cuts to your thighs. You fell so deep into the hole that one day, you grabbed some sleeping pills and swallowed about 20. Alfred noticed the bottle was empty, and he rushed to your bedroom in time.

That was around the time Tim popped up as Robin.

Despite trying to help you, your family never quite understood you. Perhaps Bruce did, better than the two of thought, but Bruce was rarely one to talk about his emotions. When Jason died, you felt like you were to blame. You were quite literally the Batgirl to his Robin. You always patrolled together, always hung around, plotting the next prank to pull on Dick. Considering the two of you were practically inseparable, you felt so damn guilty that Jason went to the warehouse himself. You should’ve gone with him. Maybe if you had gone with him, he would have still been alive.

The guilt had been gnawing at you for five years. There wasn’t a single damn day that you didn’t miss Jason. The day he died, you had furiously scribbled a letter that was about 5 pages long, listing all the reasons you hated him. You were angry, and you wanted to make sure he knew you were angry. The next day, you wrote a tear stained letter saying you loved him, and you were sorry for everything.

You then wrote him letters, one for every day that passed. This time, Day 1564, you reccounted the Red Hood guy occurrence, before telling him about this cute waiter that Dick said had been flirting with you at the cafe. You asked him, rhetorically, if you should go for it. You signed off as usual, saying you loved and missed him.

You slipped the letter into a red envelope, making your way to the garden of Wayne Manor. You couldn’t shake the feeling you were being watched, but then you remembered Bruce had tinkered with the security, so that was probably it.

You moved towards the rose bushes, and eased your way into the tiny opening in between the white rose bushes. You grabbed a long wooden box you had been stashing there, slipping the latest letter inside. You shut it, placing it back in the bush, before you straightened.

Shoving your hands into your jacket pockets, you made your way to the living room, where Bruce was trying to get everyone’s attention.

“I have some information pertaining to the Red Hood. We all need to talk.”

-----

And So the Sky Shall Weep

-----

“We all need to talk.” Bruce moves to the grandfather clock, adjusting the time on it. The door swings open, and he goes in, beckoning for you to follow. Bruce stops in front of the Batcomputer, his face hard.

“You may want to sit down,” Bruce gestures to you, Barbara and Dick. Barbara complies, and Dick leans against the table. You do the same, crossing your arms. What could possibly be so shocking that Bruce wants you to sit down?

Bruce turns on the computer screen, and you hear Dick swear beside you. Barbara buries her head in her hand, letting out a choked ‘Oh my god’. Tim and Damian stop poking each other and pause. You seem to be the only one that’s got their shit together, but by the way Bruce is looking at you, you feel yourself unravelling and quick.

Because on the screen, bold and bright as day, the dna samples of Jason Todd and the Red Hood were a 100% match. That could only mean one thing.

“He’s alive?” Dick croaks, eyes shining with unshed tears. Bruce gave Dick a brisk nod as he placed a hand on Barbara’s shoulder.

“This concerns me how?” Damian drawls, earning a well deserved shove from Tim. Damian of course, retaliates, but Bruce ignores them. His eyes are trained on you, obviously concerned at how you’ve just frozen up.

“He’s dead.” You say, voice too loud and too far away.

“He’s alive-“ Bruce starts gently, but you cut him off.

“No!” You don’t realise you’re shouting until your throat burns painfully. That doesn’t seem to deter you though.“He’s dead! I saw his body! He can’t- he’s dead.”

You don’t want to believe Bruce, don’t want to believe the test. “It’s faulty,” you say.

“I sent it to seven different labs, all of them came back with the same report,” Bruce soothes. You’re trembling, and Bruce reaches out to touch you. You push him away, walking backwards.

“I- I need to think.”

You sprint out of the Batcave, pushing past Alfred and out the door, getting on your bike and driving past the gate faster than you thought was possible. There was a strange sort of numbness that overwhelmed you, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the dam that held your feelings back broke. And you’re pretty sure you didn’t want to be around others when that happened.

You were unlocking the door of your apartment without properly registering it, your body moving on its own to put on your suit and grab your escrima sticks. Next thing you know, you’re on the roof of your building. Your eyes scan the skyline of Gotham, and you inhale deeply, letting the cool night air surround you. In. Out. In. Out. In-The rumble of clouds overhead breaks your focus, and you suddenly find yourself running.

You don’t know what you’re running from - or towards - but you just kept running. You leaped over the gaps in the buildings, hopping over ledges and power lines. Tears begin to blur your vision, but you don’t stop running. You regret that decision as soon as you trip over a plank of wood, flying forward. Luckily, or unluckily, the building had a ledge, which meant that instead of falling down 20 stories, your stomach collided with the ledge.

Hot tears fell from your eyes, and you didn’t bother trying to hold them back. You gripped the edge of the ledge tightly, your chest heaving as you choked on a sob. Lightning cracked nearby, and rain followed a millisecond later.

Five years. Five goddamn years. You mourned him for five years, you felt all that pain, all that guilt, and he was alive? You knew you were screaming when you felt your throat burn.

Screaming didn’t alleviate the weight on your chest, so you lifted your fist and brought it down on the concrete. The pain was shooting up your arm, but that didn’t stop you from hitting the ledge again. You felt like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum, frustrated and angry and sad, and having no clue on how to handle the situation. You screamed again, shoving the ledge and hitting it as if it could solve the problem.

Black gloves hands encircled you, gripping your wrists tightly and preventing you from hitting out. You thrashed in the hold, kicking out uselessly.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” Bruce’s voice came through. He hadn’t switched on his voice modulator.

“I don’t care!” You punctuated each word with a shove, but you slumped into his chest, closing your eyes. You’re sobs died down as Bruce held you, and you let the rain lull you to sleep.

-----

Love is Slowly Losing Your Mind

-----

Tick.

You can’t see.

Tock.

You can’t move.

Tick.

You can’t breathe.

Tock.

You hear footsteps.

Tick.

“She’s finally awake!”

Tock

You know that voice.

Tick

“Decided to join the party eh?”

Tock

Its always that voice.

Tick.

A cloth is ripped away from your face.

Tock.

Red lips smile right in front of you.

Tick.

Fuck.

Tock.

“Let’s play.”

Tick.

Your eyes snap open. You can’t breathe, you can’t move.

It was just a dream. You force yourself to close your eyes, focusing on the whirring of the fan above you as you calm your breathing. Just a dream, you tell yourself.

You sit up, pulling your hair into a ponytail and heading over to the bathroom. You brush your teeth, wash your face, and look in the mirror.

He can’t hurt you anymore.

You dress and go to the cafe, arriving half an hour early. A waitress places some coffee in front of you and you thank her with a smile. You don’t drink the coffee though.

The sound of the chair scraping on the floor causes you to look up, and Dick smiles down at you. Except this time, his smile isn’t genuine, it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks tired, and worn down, something that shocks you a little. Dick isn’t normally one to be anything less that happy.

He sits across you, swallowing, eyes darting anywhere but your face. When the waitress placed your usuals down, neither of you make a move to eat.

“So,” he starts, voice rough. He clears his throat, sighing heavily and running a hand across his face.

“So,” you agree, picking up your cup and lifting it to your mouth. You wrinkle your nose at the now cold beverage. You make eye contact with Dick and the unspoken question hangs in the air.

Now what?

He’s a mob boss, Dick’s raised eyebrow says.

He’s dangerous, your frown responds.

He almost killed you, Dick slumps further into his seat, eyes never leaving yours.

“He’s family,” you say, voice quiet. Dick closes his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. He is.”

You don’t say much else, and you part to go to your respective jobs. You reach your office, and there are no new cases or any overdue paperwork to deal with, which is a first. Your boss tells you to take the rest of the day off, so you do.

You walk around Gotham for hours, only going back home when the sun begins to set. You contemplate skipping patrol, but you know you need the exercise.

Suddenly you were 10 years old again, clinging onto Dick’s hand before your first patrol.

There’s nothing to be scared about, you rationalise. Absolutely nothing.

You were wrong.

You don’t make it very far, just two blocks away from your apartment, when you see the Red Hood.

-----

When Can I See You Again?

-----

You stumble onto the roof, fisting your cape on your side. He’s leaning against the edge of the building, his arms crossed. He seems to be watching you, or waiting for you, whichever it is, you’re not entirely sure.

He watches you for a moment, and you watch him, a voice in your head telling you that there’s no way in hell that’s Jason Todd.

Red Hood pushed himself off the wall, striding towards you and easily towering over you. Your heart is drumming in your ears, with him being so close to you that you can smell him, and the doubt begins to fade.

The scent is a deep, musky sort of aroma, whiffs of cigarette smoke and alcohol mixing in nicely. It’s strange, reminding you of dark and dingy corners of bars late at night, but at the same time it’s so incredibly him, so incredibly Jason, that you don’t have the heart to deny yourself a little hope anymore.

Especially not with that stupid leather jacket of his, making his arms look so good.

You swallow nervously, tilting your head up to look at him. If either of you move any closer, your chests would be brushing.

And then he moves. He takes a small step closer, one of his hands now on the small of your back and guiding you backwards, into the shadows, until your back touches a wall. You don’t know why your body lets him, why you’re not reacting to him dragging guiding you around.

He’s practically pressed against you, one of his legs between yours, the hand not on your back is resting on the wall on the side of his head. He’s so much taller than you, your head practically looking straight up to look at him.

You hear an intake of breath which could be him about to say something, but then your hands touch his mask gently. He flinches away, body tensing. His hand leaves your back and is suddenly gripping your neck, pressing you against the wall.

“You got some fuckin’ nerve,” he starts, voice gravelly. You don’t care, or seem to have heard him, really, your hands going straight back to his hood. “Take it off.”

“Given’ me orders, huh? Never would’ve thought you-”

“Take the fucking thing off or get your hands off me!” You retort, tugging at his hand around your neck. Surprisingly, you don’t seem to mind it at all. Hood’s eyes narrow and he pulls back very slightly, his hands leaving you. You’re almost disappointed until he pulls his helmet off, dropping it onto the floor. Not a second passes before he’s closed in on you again, this time applying pressure on your neck.

You’re nearly gasping for air, but you don’t struggle or make any attempts to get out of his grasp. Instead, you look at him, memorising his features. His eyes have hardened, a new steel in them that wasn't there before, but somehow they’ve stayed exactly the same. You see his features soften just a little as you breathe out his name, and you watch as his pupils dilate. Jason - it’s so clearly Jason - smirks, his head dipping down to yours. You can feel his breath on your face, your eyes locked onto his.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your jaw.

“I could destroy you,” he continued, voice soft and eerily soothing. “I could wreck you and ya wouldn’t stand a chance. Could snap this pretty little neck o’ yours.”

A normal person would be trembling, scared shitless in this situation. You… were not normal.

“What’s stopping you then?” You say, voice low and equally calm. You inhaled and god he smelled good.

“Nothin’ if you keep runnin’ that mouth.”

“I’m calling bullshit,” you say, smug under him, despite the fact that he has you pinned and his hand is tight around your throat. He cocks and eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “If you wanted to kill me you would’ve done it that other night.”

“Maybe I’m regretting’ leaving you alive,” he shoots back. You shrug, leaning your head back as if you were extremely comfortable. (Which, for the record, you totally were.) Jason - Red Hood?- lets his forehead rest against your for a moment, your lips almost brushing. You could just… tilt your head up…

With a heavy sigh, he releases you, taking a few steps away from you. He picks up his helmet, back turning towards you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Next time I’m gonna kill you,” he says, voice not in the least bit threatening.

A sudden urge to touch him again courses through you, and you lunge towards him. His reflexes are still sharp, and he spins around, anticipating an attack. Your body slams into his, and he barely shifts. He only seems to stiffen when you wrap your arms around him. You press your cheek to his chest, breath shaky as you listen to his steady heartbeat. You don’t realise you’re crying until his gloved hand strokes your cheek. His other arm wraps around your shoulders awkwardly, unsure of how to react. You sniffle, arms tightening around him. He seems to get the hint and tightens his grip on you, his touch full of warmth and comfort.

You pull away first, and he avoids your gaze.

“You still gonna try to kill me?” You say, trying to lighten the moment. Your voice comes out a lot weaker than you would’ve liked.

Red Hood straightens up to his full height, staring at you head on.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

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soprano193 · 3 years

Text

Not a Couple

Chapter 8

Jane:

It only took thirteen seconds for Jane's more sophisticated friend to comment on her outfit. After placing her two suitcases in the back of the cab and hopping in the backseat with Jane, she eyed her friend with eyebrows raised. "Jane, I thought you were kidding about the sweats!"

"I was. Mostly." She laughed to herself as she realized how odd of a pair they made, Jane in her black sweats and a Red Sox tee, and Maura with a pencil skirt and green flowy blouse. "Maura, are you comfortable?" Jane asked, gesturing down to the Doctor's heels.

"Comfortable enough." Her answer was non-committal, accompanied by a shrug of her shoulders. So she wasn't comfortable.

"Maur, we're going to be on a plane for seven hours. The driver can wait a few extra minutes for you to change into something comfortable for the trip."

For a moment, it seemed like the honey blonde would accept the offer to change, or at least pick out more comfortable shoes. But with a shake of her head, Maura resigned herself to her choices. "I'll be fine. I've flown many times in this exact outfit." At her words, the cab lurched forward, headed to Logan.

"Hey, as long as you're comfy."

Her friend laughed. "Well, I can see you are!" From her purse, she pulled out a legal pad, flipping through the pages. "I updated my itinerary. I was up for a while, adding you to my plans, and finding new things that might interest us both." As she chatted away about palaces, catacombs, and cathedrals, Jane watched her face, wondering again in awe how she kept so much information inside her brain. Maura must have seen the look on Jane's face, and stopped her rambling to look at the former Detective, her brows furrowed. "What?"

"Nothing. Just watching your giant brain work." At this, Jane swore she saw the hint of a blush creeping up on her friend's face. Looking down at the legal pad, her eyes fixated on Maura's tidy scrawl. "So, did you pack our days, or did you give us some wiggle room?"

"I picked things that would interest us both, and left days for relaxation and writing in between."

"And in all this planning, did you manage to get any sleep?"

Her friend paused. "Not much. But, I planned a two-day recovery so that we can start to adjust our internal clocks." Maura glances at her, hazel eyes studying her face. "What about you? You left pretty late."

"I didn't sleep. I had a few things to finish packing into the Pod so they can store it for me. And I had to add a few nicer outfits to my suitcase." At Maura's pleased smile, Jane grinned. "Besides, I figured we could sleep on the plane."

"Oh, but we shouldn't!" Maura's outburst startled even the cab driver. "When we get to Paris, it will be nighttime. We should try to stay awake on the plane, and then sleep when we get there. It would be beneficial for our internal clocks."

"Maura! You're telling me that I should stay awake for two days voluntarily?"

She giggled. "You've stayed awake before!"

Jane groaned. "During cases, Maur. When there's a body dump and a killer on the loose. There's a difference." They continued to laugh, talk, and plan during their short ride to Logan. Check-in was quick in the early morning before the busy period started. And they were through security after about 30 minutes.

Once in the terminal, Jane wasted no time searching for a store with coffee. She sent a silent prayer to the coffee Gods when around the corner from their gate was a Boston Joe's kiosk. "Maura, coffee." It was a statement rather than a question, and her friend only nodded in response.

"I'm heading to our gate. I'll meet you there."

Jane nodded in response, tapping her friend on the shoulder before jumping in the back of the line. She almost didn't notice the way Maura stiffened at the contact. As she watched the Doctor walk away, she brushed the stiffness off, figuring it had to be exhaustion.

The line was moving slow. There was only one worker behind the counter and several tired travelers looking for a pick-me-up. After the first customer, her phone chimed. A message from Davies.

C: I heard you were starting late. I hope you're not backing out?

J: I'm not, I promise. Just taking a long-deserved vacation to Paris with Maura.

C: Ah, the City of Love. I've heard great things. Send me pictures?

J: I will. See you in a month.

C: Have fun, Jane.

When she got to the counter, she ordered Maura's non-fat latte with no foam, and her own latte with a triple shot. "My travel companion won't let me sleep on the plane." She explained to the barista, who seemed unfazed by the amount of espresso she was pouring into the former Detective's drink. Coffee firmly in her hands, Jane made her way to the gate.

Maura sat in a chair by the windows, her laptop out as she typed away. "What are you working on?" Passing her friend her drink, she watched Maura's screen.

"Well, my plan for this vacation was to change my scenery and write. I figured I might as well now since I probably won't on the plane." She took a sip of her drink, grinning when she saw the stevia packets in Jane's hand. "Thank you. I have something for you, too." She passed over her boarding pass, her finger lingering over the seat number.

It took Jane a second, but once she saw it, she grinned. "You got your seat changed!"

"I did. The person next to you was happy to switch."

"I call the window seat." This made Maura laugh, which made Jane's heart jump up to her chest. Making Maura laugh was one of her favorite pastimes. It would be hard in a month when she couldn't do that every day. Trying to distract herself from her worries, Jane pulled out her phone. "I should tell Ma we made it to the airport safely."

"I already texted her."

Grinning, Jane watched her friend out of the corner of her eye. "Okay, so I'll watch a movie then." Fishing her headphones out of her pocket, she pulled up Netfix and started a random movie. But instead of watching the movie, she read what Maura was typing.

If Maura noticed the intrusion, she didn't let on. She flipped between her word processor and a scanned version of her outline often. At one point she switched to a page filled with character information, adding to it, expanding on her points. When she hesitated, Jane would watch her face, how her jaw would set and her eyes would narrow as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say. Or her small, satisfied smile when she'd written something she liked. Watching Maura's face change as she wrote made Jane want to read her book even more.

On the plane, each passenger had their own little TV on the backs of the chairs in front of them. Once in the air, Maura found archeological documentaries, the kind that had the British narrators that made Jane fall asleep. Jane opted for something with more explosions, to help keep her awake. Unfortunately, around three hours in, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. She tapped her companion, who pulled out an earbud. "I know we're supposed to stay awake, but what's it gonna hurt to take a little nap?"

The Doctor raised her eyebrows at her in response. "Well, it won't hurt, but the time difference and jet lag can be unpleasant. You'll be prone to irritability, fatigue, indigestion, and headaches."

"Maur, I'm already fatigued, and am halfway to irritable. I need to sleep."

"Well, I won't stop you." Her friend's response was all she needed to hear. From her carry-on luggage, Jane pulled out the matching leopard U-shaped pillow that came with her bag. Her friend's laughter didn't stop her from putting it around her neck and against the plane wall. "Sleep well, Jane."

Despite her exhaustion, sleeping on a plane was proving to be very difficult. Every little movement she could feel, and she had never been great at sleeping while sitting. As she was about to give up and complain, looking to Maura for support, she found her friend with eyelids fluttering, her chin resting on her fist. "Maur," She started, making the Doctor startle, "get some rest. You're tired."

The honey blonde shook her head, blinking her hazel eyes. "I can't. I don't want to be irritable."

"Maura, you're with me. I'll forgive you." Jane felt her face soften as she tugged her friend to her, letting Maura rest her head on Jane's shoulder. As Maura snuggled in, letting sleep get the best of her, Jane rested her head on top of Maura's, finally losing consciousness.

They were awoken by the flight attendants, who were preparing for landing. Announcements were made over the speaker that they were approaching their destination. Jane lifted her shade to see what was going on. Maura peering over her shoulder, Jane held her breath until they landed safely on another continent.

It took them almost two hours to clear customs, their bags being the last off the plane. Maura hailed a taxi outside to take them to their hotel. Inside the cab, she spoke perfect French with the driver, which Jane watched in awe. Too tired to even try to follow the conversation, she instead opted to text her Mother, making sure she knew they arrived.

The cab dropped them off at a hotel walking distance from the tower. It looked huge, lit up in the night, glowing beacons shining in the air. Jane could feel her mouth opening as she took it all in. Sure, she knew they were in another country, far from home, but seeing the tower like that, so close, that's when it hit her. She was in Paris. With Maura.

As her friend entered her thoughts, she felt a hand slip into hers and tug it, pulling her gently along the sidewalk. "Jane, come on."

"Pinch me."

The Doctor's laughter was gentle, as she pulled herself into Jane's side, lacing their fingers together. "Why would I want to do that?"

Jane squeezed the younger woman's hand. "So I know this is real." The light chuckle and grin that adorned Maura's face, her dimples showing as she walked backward, it almost outshone the tower.

Their room had a view of the Tower from the balcony. Jane stood at the full-length windows and stared for just a bit longer before being pulled out of her trance by the blonde Doctor placing pills into her hands. "Melatonin. It should help with the jet lag." At Jane's quirked eyebrow, she continued. "It will help you sleep." Jane didn't question it further, and accepted the glass of water her friend held out. The honey-blonde made her way across the room to the bathroom, gathering some clothing from her opened bag as she went. "As much as I want to unpack, I also feel like it's important that we sleep." Jane took the opportunity while her friend was getting ready to change clothes, drawing the curtains closed. "I'm worried that it will be difficult given our nap on the plane."

"I'm not," Jane answered back as she yawned, throwing her travel clothes in a pile and climbing under the covers on her side of the bed. "I think that melanin you gave me is kicking in." As she closed her eyes, she heard her friend chuckle, her footsteps coming closer to the bed. By the time Maura had set up her phone charger and joined Jane under the covers, Jane was asleep.

When her eyes opened next, the clock on the side of the bed shone back at her. 3:42 am. Part of her wanted to groan and fall back asleep, but she woke feeling refreshed. Blaming it on the time change, she turned to face Maura.

Maura was still asleep, her breathing even, her face serene. Despite the long day of travel, her hair was still in perfect waves which sloped gracefully over the curve of her cheek. Jane reached over to brush a stray piece out of her eyes, and felt her breath hitch as she waited to see if Maura woke. Instead, it seemed as if the blonde smiled at Jane's touch, relaxing more in her slumber. Jane felt her heart flip at the intimacy of the moment, realizing that the only other person who would ever experience this was Maura's eventual spouse. It was a strange honor to see the well put together Doctor in such a vulnerable place, and Jane scoffed as she realized that she was jealous of a person who didn't exist yet.

Pushing her thoughts from her head, Jane decided to peruse Facebook, looking at photos from her friends back home. After a few minutes, when she remembered where they were, she climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb her sleeping companion. Walking to the window, she pulled it open and stared out in awe. The Tower's lights were off, but she could still make out the imposing figure in the darkness. The lights absolutely added to its beauty, but just knowing it was there sent shivers down her spine.

The hand pressed into the small of her back had surprised her, but instead of jumping, she leaned back into it, until Maura's arm wrapped around her and she situated herself at Jane's hip. "The lights stop at 1 am." Maura's voice was soft, like she was afraid to break the serenity of the moment.

"I wasn't complaining." She felt Maura chuckle beside her. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"You didn't." The reassurance made Jane let out her breath, relaxing more into her friend's embrace. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just about ten minutes. I remembered where we were and thought I'd admire the view."

"That's a good plan." Maura stood with her, looking out at the Tower, street lamps, trees, and buildings that they could see from their window. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

Jane turned her head to look at her friend. Her face was lit up by the glow of the moonlight, her mouth pulled up in the corners, her eyes wide as they looked around the city. Jane was looking at Maura when she answered. "Yeah. Gorgeous."

________________________________________________________________

They spent the first few days adjusting their internal clocks. As much as Jane wanted to explore this foreign city, she also was glad for the time to reacclimate. They found a few coffee shops and restaurants near them and went grocery shopping for some fruits and other things to have in the room. Maura dedicated two hours each day to writing, time that Jane had decided to dedicate to reading or Duolingo. She wouldn't be fluent, but at least she could ask where the bathroom was and understand the response.

Maura set up their first outing, keeping the plans to herself. "At least tell me if I need to dress up."

"No need. Dress comfortably." This was all the permission Jane needed to pull out her BPD sweatpants and a comfy t-shirt. Maura only shook her head, not saying a word, a smile on her face.

"You said 'comfortably'!" Jane shouted in an accusatory tone at Maura's face.

"I did, I wasn't planning on saying anything." Her friend laughed as Jane changed, and she chattered away about lunch plans, when she wanted to write, and her desire to take ridiculous touristy photos.

Jane assured her that they would take all the photos she wanted to. "We need more pictures together, anyway. And my new apartment will need decorating." It was the first time in days that Jane had mentioned her upcoming move, and almost immediately she regretted it. She could see the flash of sadness on Maura's face, her hands fidgeting, followed by her immediate compartmentalization. Trying to bring levity to the room again, Jane smiled. "So tell me more about this adventure."

Maura brought her on a guided tour of the Catacombs. If anyone else had brought her, she would have found it creepy. Most people don't tour graveyards. But this was different. Jane learned about the transfer of hundreds of bodies from overflowing cemeteries to underground quarries, under the cover of darkness so citizens wouldn't be alarmed. They walked along corridors with bones lining the walls in elegant patterns, their tour guide explaining the painstaking work that went into the design. Unable to resist, Jane leaned over to Maura and whispered, "this looks like a scene right out of Scooby-Doo." The Doctor's stifled laughter and the looks of other tourists were worth the glare of the guide.

At a Cafe along the Seine, while eating sandwiches and sipping wine, a woman approached and spoke with Maura. Jane was not proficient enough to figure out what the woman was saying, but watched as a flustered Maura blushed and answered her back. The woman gave an awkward smile and rushed away, nodding at Jane as she left. Not wanting to be left out, Jane looked at the still red blonde, waiting for an answer to her unasked question. Maura gave a nervous chuckle before explaining. "She said she thought we made a cute couple."

Jane furrowed her brows and looked toward the door, where the woman had made a quick exit. "What brought that on?" Looking at the way they were sitting, she didn't notice anything different. They weren't any more affectionate than usual, although she was aware that some people found their affection for one another unusual. Shrugging, she turned back to the younger woman. "I mean, I know we aren't the last people to be approached awkwardly in public. Frankie and Nina get a comment monthly about how beautiful their baby will be." She took a sip of wine. "And it was only Ma once."

This made Maura laugh, her fingers trailing along the bottom of her wine glass. "Your mother says a lot of intrusive things. And asks a lot of questions. It's endearing."

"It's annoying."

Laughing, Maura took a sip of her wine before gesturing to the door, where the woman had left. "What kind of questions do you think your Mother would ask us?"

"If we were in a relationship?" Jane clarified before continuing, waiting for the nod of the Doctor's head. "Probably the same thing she would ask any lesbian couple. Who pays for dinner? Who asks who on the date? Who is going to carry her grandchildren, because so far only one of her children has succeeded in that?"

"Which one is the man?" Maura added, her eyebrows raised at that last word as she waited to watch Jane's reaction.

"Yes, she would ask that. And I thought we established years ago that I would be the guy." Jane smiled to herself as she remembered that case at Merch, going undercover, turning her head and being face to face with Maura's…

"But Jane, isn't the point of a same-sex relationship, that neither one of us is 'the guy'?"

Maura punctuated her words with air quotations, making Jane snort. "You do have a point there, Maur."

Both women dropped the conversation and went back to their meals. It wasn't the first time they had flirted with the idea of dating one another. But for once, it was the first time Jane had felt sorry to see the conversation end. As Maura ate, jotting things down about the setting that she could use in her story later, Jane wondered how her Mother would react to her dating the younger blonde. She had always seen Maura as another daughter, and certainly treated her with as much kindness as she treated the rest of her children. Plus, Maura was a Doctor, so she had that going for her.

"Jane." Her friend's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Jane's nod was slow as she blinked herself to reality. "Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking that I haven't texted Ma in a few days, I should do that." Maura accepted this response, her eyes floating back to her notebook. Jane let out a breath, careful not to draw attention to herself. She did send out a quick text to her mother, along with a photo of Maura next to a skull. It looks like you girls are having a great time. Looking back at Maura, Jane smiled. Maura was very concentrated on her descriptions, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. Every so often she would look up, cock her head as she looked at something, then scribble down another description. Jane found the sight amusing, yet endearing. Watching, she realized that before she worried about how her Mother would react, she needed to figure out her own feelings first.

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A few days later, they visited the Louvre. Jane had never been a fan of art museums, but she knew that this was the trip Maura didn't want to miss. "This is where the Mona Lisa is, right? Let's go see it first, and look at all these other things later."

Maura grabbed her hand, pulling her back to the Doctor's side. "No." She said it in a matter-of-fact tone that made Jane stop. "Everyone goes there first. The best thing to do is wait until closing time, when crowds have thinned."

Jane couldn't help but groan. That was the only piece of artwork that even slightly piqued her interest. Holding a map of the vast museum in her hands, she sighed, ignoring the amused look on Maura's face. "Fine. As long as we still get to see it."

"I promise, you'll see it." Maura giggled, pulling her into a room.

The museum proved to be more interesting than Jane had anticipated. For one, it was interesting to see how many "Virgin and Child" sculptures could fit in a single room. Walking through the sculptures, Jane watched the progression and noted the subtle differences in style. Meanwhile, Maura chatted away, throwing out words like 'gothic', or 'renaissance' off the top of her head. Jane never needed to read a plaque, or plug in and listen. She had a walking encyclopedia who was raised by an art teacher at her side.

As they made their way into the rooms with Roman and Greek statues, they came across one that Jane recognized immediately. "Maura, please tell me there's not a body in it this time."

Her friend paused before answering, her head cocked to one side. "That would be highly unlikely, but I can't rule it out."

Shaking her head, Jane linked elbows with her, pulling her forward. "Well go stand next to it so I can get a picture."

"What? Why?"

"You wanted to take touristy photos! This is a touristy photo." She positioned Maura next to the giant sculpture and backed away until she could fit both in her picture. "Maur, pose like the statue."

"What should I do with my arms?" She waved them around for emphasis.

"Whatever you want. Imagine what she may have been doing." Reluctantly, Maura did just that. Her left knee angled and her body twisted slightly, she placed her right arm over her stomach, and her left pushed forward, as if holding up a mirror. Jane snapped the picture, walking back toward her friend. "Very intellectual, Maura. Do me." Jane stood in the same place, waiting for Maura to get her framing right. Once she held up her phone, Jane extended her arms to the left side of her body and started swaying her hips like she was doing the hula. Laughing, Maura took her picture, her head shaking.

As she approached, she held her arm out, lacing it back through Jane's elbow as they fell back into step. "It's highly unlikely that anyone in ancient Greece would know how to hula." She wore a smile on her face, knowing full well that Jane was messing with her.

"Well, I'll take my chances. You could be wrong this one time."

"Perhaps." The Doctor conceded with a smile, pulling Jane into another room.

The best part of the Louvre was definitely watching Maura. The way she examined every detail of the paintings and sculptures, her hazel eyes darting around, taking them all in. The way she spouted facts like it was nothing, again making Jane wonder where she kept all that information. It was, of all things, stone statues of winged bulls with human heads, that made Maura stop in her tracks. Jane understood it to a point, they were massive and made her feel small. Jane placed her hand in the small of Maura's back, trying to move her along, but her feet were planted. "Tell me what you're thinking, Maur."

"It's just," she gestured in the air, her hands not settling on any one thing, "these statues are over three thousand years old, Jane. And made from stone. And they're so well preserved, and detailed, and here. It's amazing."

Jane had a memory at that moment, of Maura going on about being in awe of what human beings can do. It was endearing at the time, but now, seeing it in action, watching the look on her face, Jane knew this was incredible for her. "Yeah. It's amazing." She responded, her eyes fixated on her friend's face.

They made it to see the Mona Lisa before closing, Jane shocked to realize just how small it was. She then dragged her friend to take more photos in the gardens and along the Place de la Concorde. Then they returned to their hotel room so Maura could write. While Maura worked on her project, Jane recounted the memories from the day. Maura's laughter at her dancing, her never-ending knowledge that she shared so willingly, and that look of awestruck wonder that made her so beautiful. Looking across the room at Maura, Jane felt her stomach sink as she thought about leaving. This trip was making everything so hard.

________________________________________________________________

It was during a morning writing session that Jane realized that Maura was staring at her. She tried to ignore it at first, returning to her phone, but every time she looked up, Maura was looking at her. "Am I distracting you? I can go work out for a bit if I'm bothering you."

"No, please don't." She closed the top of her laptop. "I'm describing you."

"Why?" Jane's brows furrowed as she looked at her friend, her phone falling to her lap.

"They told me my characters and setting were flat. I need to practice using my senses to make people and characters come alive." With that, she reopened her laptop, going back to typing.

"Does it have to be me?" Jane asked as she watched Maura look up at her again.

"Whom else do you suggest I describe?" At this Jane shrugged, picking her phone back up and listening to the green owl teach her French. At one point, she looked over and saw Maura watching her again, her eyes focused on Jane's feet dangling in the chair. Jane began to wiggle them, making Maura roll her eyes. "You have to pretend I'm not watching you. Act natural."

Jane returned her feet to normal, stilling them. "Okay, bossy." This elicited a chuckle from the Doctor, putting a small smile on Jane's face. Jane decided to focus on her Duolingo, finding her French skills improving. When Maura closed her laptop, standing once the hour was up, Jane held out a hand for the Doctor's device. "Do I get to read it?"

Maura's eyes grew wide as she held her computer close to her. "No. It's private."

"Maura! You wrote about me! I should be able to read it!" She was pouting as she whined, her hands opening and closing.

The Doctor chuckled at the sight in front of her, shaking her head. "No, Jane. It's private. And it's not important, it was just an exercise." At Jane's huff of displeasure, she continued. "But give me a few days, I want you to read my revisions on my manuscript."

Playing up her disappointment, Jane huffed. "Fine. That kind of makes up for your secrecy." The only response from the Doctor was more chuckling as she tucked away her computer and changed for the day.

________________________________________________________________

The day they went to Notre Dame, it was rainy. Maura fretted in their hotel room about her hair, and the rain messing it up. "It's the perfect day to pull it back, then." Jane tried to reason with her as she redressed. "You always look nice when you pull it back."

"You think so?" The honey-blonde poked her head out from the bathroom, her hair gathered in her hands as she looked toward the former Detective.

"I do." Taking this positive response, the Doctor disappeared. If Jane was being honest, her friend always looked amazing. No matter what she decided to do with her hair, or what outfit she chose to wear, she always looked amazing. "Do you think I would lie about that?"

Emerging from the bathroom with a smile and high ponytail, the younger woman reached for her umbrella and purse. "I think if you thought it would get me out of the room faster, you might."

Stopping Maura from leaving with her hand on the door, Jane made sure to look in her eyes, her face soft as she spoke. "You're gorgeous, my friend."

Maura stifled her smile, as any humble person would. "Somehow that sounds familiar."

"Yeah, a know-it-all told me that, once." With a chuckle, they left, walking side by side.

Upon entering the cathedral, Jane crossed herself before she lost her breath. Maura's hand in the small of her back kept her moving, but her eyes hadn't come down yet. The ceilings were so high, the room so large, she felt small in comparison. Maura walked at her pace through it all, allowing her to examine the artwork and the architecture. They both stopped to stare at one of the rose windows, high in the air, and at that moment Jane knew what Maura meant when she said that she was in awe of what humans could do.

While admiring the high ceilings and stained glass, Maura's voice pulled her out of her trance, low and reverent as she admired the cathedral. "Standing here as a non-believer, I have to admit that I understand." She met Jane's eyes, and continued at her furrowed brows and curious look. "I mean, just being in here makes me feel insignificant. Like there has to be something else out there, something bigger than myself. It's easy to see why many turn to religious beliefs when they are looking for something more."

Grabbing the younger woman's hand, Jane gave it a squeeze. "You know you're significant, right?"

She nodded. "I do. And I hope you know that too." Jane realized she was blushing, heat rising to her cheeks as she saw Maura's genuine smile. She gently moved Jane along to discover more within the walls.

They stumbled upon an altar with a picture of the Virgin and Child in the background. Red and white flags (Polish, Maura told her with a smile) hung on either side. The picture depicted the mother and Jesus with dark complexions, brilliant gold halos on top of their heads. Maura began talking about Black Madonnas found elsewhere in Europe. "Considering Jesus was reportedly middle eastern, these paintings would be more historically accurate," she explained, as Jane pulled her to see more stained glass windows.

It was the window that seemed to depict a journey that caught Maura's attention, her eyes following the detail. The light shone through this window just right, making Maura's face glow in shades of red, a stray strand of hair grazing against her cheek. Jane's heart skipped a beat, her stomach fluttered, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around the awe inspiring woman she called her best friend. Before she could stop it, she spoke. "So beautiful."

Maura, not moving her eyes from the window, answered back. "Yeah, it is."

As their vacations began to come to a close, Jane found it harder and harder to imagine returning to a life without Maura. They talked about plans, Jane's moving process, Skype schedules, and holidays. As much as Jane didn't want to think about it, she knew planning was the best way to combat Maura's anxiety about her leaving. As for her, she was happy to wake up next to Maura every day, to watch her as she slept, to see the subtle changes in her face as she wrote. It was in the quiet of one of those moments, when she had to resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to her lips, that Jane realized what she was walking away from. That she may be leaving the love of her life along with her family to pursue this next step in her career. Sometimes it made her question her decision.

________________________________________________________________

Their last big tour was to Versailles. The grounds were large, the gardens full, and Jane had to fight to keep her face neutral as Maura twirled in the hall of mirrors like a little girl. "Jane, can you imagine attending a ball in the past?"

"What, with the tight bodices, and the hoop skirts so wide they make your ass look huge?" Maura laughed, and Jane felt a pull in her gut. "Yeah, I'm gonna pass."

"Jane! You looked amazing in your Revolutionary War dress." Her hands played with the edges of Jane's jacket. "It would be like that, but with more frills."

"Maura, when would I ever say 'more frills'?" Maura laughed at her, dropping the jacket and moving away, and for a moment Jane wondered if she felt it too. Pushing down her feelings, she continued as normal. "What, are you gonna teach me to waltz too?"

"Oh, not the Waltz." She turned away and wandered down the hall, knowing Jane would follow behind her. "The Waltz only became popular after the Revolution, after the palace at Versailles fell out of use."

"Well, excuse me for being ahead of my time." She couldn't help but laugh with Maura as she turned back around to face the taller woman, walking backwards in the hall.

"If it helps, I've always admired that about you." She caught sight of herself in the mirrors and twirled, slow and graceful, making Jane glad she still had her phone out to capture it on camera. She thought back to that revolutionary war era dress, Maura done up in frills and bows, her hair in a graceful yet intricate updo, and she remembered how beautiful she looked that day. If only she had realized what was right in front of her sooner.

They made their way into another room, either the war room or the peace room. Jane wasn't paying attention as Maura spoke, and was instead looking at all the gold that adorned the walls. "How rich do you have to be to cover all the walls with gold?"

"Gilded bronze." Maura corrected, admiring the large circular painting on the wall.

"Okay. How rich do you need to be to cover all the walls with gilded bronze?"

Maura laughed at the question, bringing a smile to Jane's face. She pointed behind them, into the hallway. "Actually, the real impressive thing here is the mirrors."

"The mirrors are impressive?"

Maura nodded, looking into Jane's eyes as she spoke. "Yes, mirrors in the 18th century were very expensive, only the elite could afford them. That whole hallway was meant to remind allies and enemies how rich the French monarchy was."

Glancing back to the hallway, Jane couldn't help but scoff. "That's a lot of money to blow on an ego boost."

"I found the effect rather striking. Didn't you?" Maura wasn't looking at her anymore as she spoke, her head tilted upward as she examined paintings on the ceiling.

Thinking back to Maura in the hall of mirrors, twirling as she caught sight of herself, Jane couldn't help but smile. "The effect was definitely striking." Her friend laughed at Jane's tone before taking a hold of her hand, pulling her to another room.

When they finished in the palace, Jane pulled Maura into the gardens. Maura had told her they were almost three times the size of Central Park. They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening looking at trees in boxes, hunting down fountains, and watching water shows in the most elaborate outdoor setting Jane had ever seen. The few pictures she took of Maura near some blossoms she knew she would treasure forever.

________________________________________________________________

"Let's go somewhere nice to eat." Maura's voice pulled Jane from her haze. It was their last day in the city of lights, that fact made more real as Jane checked into her flight. "I can get us reservations at a restaurant near the Tower."

"I'm not opposed." The words sent her friend into a flurry of activity. Between looking at review, getting changed, and making calls, she was all over the room in varying stages of undress. It wasn't the first time she had seen the Doctor in varying stages of undress. A month ago it would have been just another day in their lives. But now Jane found herself looking away, trying to forget how her creamy skin contrasted with her deep purple bra. She breathed a sigh of relief as Maura emerged from the bathroom in a pink blouse, her hair straight instead of her usual loose curls.

"I've found a restaurant." She said with a triumphant grin. "Get dressed, we leave in a half an hour."

Jane pulled her one good white blouse out of her suitcase. It had black piping along the edges and down the center of the shirt. This paired with her black pants was as fancy as she was willing to get. Emerging from the bathroom, she breathed a sigh of relief at Maura's nod of approval. She had added a rose gold bracelet to her ensemble, as well as some simple silver earrings. "You look great." Jane breathed, hoping it didn't sound as awkward as it made her feel.

"Thank you. That top is stunning on you." The returned compliment made the former Detective blush. "I haven't seen it before."

"Ma picked it out about three years ago. So naturally, I haven't worn it." Her explanation made the honey-blonde snort, her head shaking. "I know, it's silly. But sometimes she picks out clothing with an ulterior motive, so I don't wear it when she wants me to."

"Jane, you have to let that black dress thing go."

Grabbing her wallet and following Maura out the door, Jane corrected her. "That wasn't the only time, Maura."

The restaurant was nice enough, tucked away into a corner, the Tower seen only in the distance. Maura ordered the duck, while Jane stuck with a meal she knew she would like, beef tenderloin. For a while they talked about Maura's book, and the changes she had made. They then reminisced about their favorite parts of their vacation together, planning to choose another location to visit together in a year. But as dinner came, they had to address their impending separation. "I fear that this vacation has only increased my sadness about you leaving." Maura broke the ice, her face down as she spoke.

Reaching across the table, Jane caressed her hand, the touch foreign to her now with her realized feelings. "Am I still sad? Absolutely. But I don't regret this time I've had to spend with you." Maura's lips pulled up for a split second as she tried to smile through her sadness. "Besides, I'll be back before you know it for Thanksgiving."

Huffing, she pulled her hand away from Jane's, returning to her meal. "I know. And when I have long weekends, I can come down for a visit."

"Exactly!" This made the younger woman smile brighter as she sat up taller in her seat. "Frankie said the drive wasn't too bad."

"Frankie made the drive?"

Nodding, Jane took a bite of her food. "Yeah, he drove my car down there, and Ma drove him back. He and Tommy set up my bed, and left my apartment keys under my floor mats."

"So you're all set up."

"The rest of my stuff will arrive in two days. I'm just waiting for an email from the FBI outlining my first few days." At the mention of the organization, her mind flashed to the man who had offered her the job, the special agent who asked her for pictures of Paris. The special agent she hadn't answered in a month. Even though she was slowly realizing that a relationship between them was not going to work out, she hadn't meant to ghost him. "Shit."

"What's the matter?" Maura looked concerned, her eyes blinking as she looked at her friend.

"Agent Davies. He asked me for pictures of our vacation, and I've ignored him all month long."

"Oh." Maura's reply was curt, shocking Jane with the harshness of it. "You'll see him in a few days. You can catch him up then."

"I know." Taking a sip of her wine, she continued. "I wasn't gonna text him right now. It's our last night in Paris. Tonight everything is about you." Maura seemed to relax at this, loosening her shoulders and speaking in a normal voice.

After dinner they walked along the Seine, taking in the sights and sounds together. They reminisced about cases, funny stories with Jane's family, and their significant others who never seemed to stick. Maura was careful not to bring up Davies, but why, Jane couldn't understand. Maybe she was sensing the doubts Jane was feeling. She hoped Maura wouldn't figure out why she was having doubts. That would be harder to explain.

They found themselves standing on a bridge. A ferry boat was out in the distance. The sky was getting dark. Maura took a moment, closing her eyes and listening to the sounds. Jane took the opportunity to snap a picture. Maura saw the flash, shaking her head. "Jane, let me see it."

"It's gorgeous, Maura." She was gorgeous. She couldn't say that out loud again. But she turned her phone around so Maura could see it, grinning when she nodded her head in approval. "We should get one together."

"Jane, I don't know if I want to take pictures."

"C'mon, Maura." She turned her camera around and stood next to her friend. Demonstrating on her screen, she showed her friend. "See those lights back there? It will make for a nice photo." Her friend nodded, and Jane wrapped her arm around Maura's waist, holding her other arm out to take the photo. Maura's arm wrapped around her back. "One. Two. Three." Jane smiled and took a picture, realizing only after the flash that Maura had been looking not at the camera, but at Jane's face. She turned to her friend, feigning upset with her voice. "Maura! You have to look at the camera. It'll be pretty!"

But Maura was looking at her with soft, wide eyes, her smile broad and unwavering. "Yeah, pretty." It seemed as though Maura was leaning closer, her eyes closing and mouth parting. And before Jane could stop herself, she closed that gap, letting her lips meet Maura's. Her hand fell, placing her phone in her pocket so she could put both her hands on the younger woman's waist, pulling her closer. The small moan Maura let out made Jane weak at the knees, and she opened her mouth for more.

But as she did, Maura pulled away, biting her lips and looking away. "I'm sorry." She covered the lower half of her face with her hand.

Jane wasn't sorry. Everything she had been figuring out was answered once her lips met Maura's. Her past actions, their closeness, the way she was drawn to Maura, it all made sense. And yet, now her friend was standing across from her looking ashamed. In one moment, Jane had figured out what she needed, and lost it all at once. "Oh my God."

"Jane, wait."

Jane began to back away. "Oh my God."

"Jane, please!"

Jane ran. Even as she could hear her friend pleading with her. She ran, letting the hot tears spill from her face. She ran to the place that had been home for the last month. Traces of Maura were everywhere. She couldn't escape. She paced the floor of their room. At some point, she would have to face Maura, have to face the shame and disappointment. Catching sight of her pajamas, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it would work.

Maura had tried to give her space. She returned to the room half an hour after Jane had. But Jane had decided to hide, wrapping herself in blankets and pretending to sleep. "Jane?" Her friend called out, her voice small in the large space. Jane stuck with her charade, not moving, evening her breathing. "I want to talk. Can we talk?" She could feel Maura's presence standing next to her. When she said nothing, Maura cursed. "Shit." She kicked off her heels and crawled on the other side of the bed. "What have I done?" A part of Jane wanted to roll over and hug her, was angry at herself for causing her friend so much pain. But another didn't want to face the shame, the embarrassment she caused her friend. She had just lost so much, she couldn't lose any more. So she stayed wrapped in her cocoon, ignoring the words of her friend, her heart breaking into more tiny pieces.

Maura fell asleep after about an hour, though Jane could tell it was restless. She tossed and turned, and the look on her face was not the serene picture it had been for the past few weeks. Jane on the other hand, did not sleep. She replayed that kiss in her mind over and over, reveling in the moan, the feel of Maura's hand on her hip. Then she replayed the look of shame, the way Maura crumpled in on herself. She watched it again and again. Now Maura knew. Maura knew Jane loved her, and she didn't feel the same. It was too much to bear.

Jane left an hour earlier for her flight, hailing a taxi at the front desk. She scribbled a note to Maura before leaving, dropping it on her pillow. I hope you can forget this someday. She didn't sleep until she was on her plane, the neck pillow squashed up against the window. No one teased her about the print, no one told her she had to try to stay awake. The person next to her did not watch documentaries that made her fall asleep. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. She blew it.

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Three days later in her new apartment, her phone rings. Picking it up, she is met with an accusatory voice on the other end. "What happened?" It was Frankie, always concerned. Thankfully, Maura had people in Boston looking out for her.

"Frankie, I fucked up." She sat on her bed, the only piece of furniture she had unpacked.

"Hence why I'm calling you. Janie, Maura won't talk about the trip. She's just really down. She'd not even talking to Ma. What happened?"

Free hand rubbing her eyes, Jane answered. "I kissed her."

There was a long pause, "I don't understand why that would make her upset."

"Frankie, she was ashamed. Maybe of me, maybe not, I don't know. All I know is that I realized I'm in love with her, we kissed, and now she's ashamed."

"Janie. She's not ashamed of you."

Letting out a breath through her nose, she continued. "Well, if she wasn't, she is now."

"You guys need to talk."

"I don't disagree. But I need time."

Jane could hear his car door shut. "Well, don't wait too long."

"I'll try. Don't tell Ma."

Her brother laughed. "I'll try. But you know me, I fall for all her tricks."

"Great." After saying their goodbyes, she hung up. Opening the gallery on her phone, she looked through all the photos she had of Maura. Posing next to a skull, Admiring paintings at the Louvre, posing like statues, smelling trees at Versailles. That last photo, of the two of them together on that bridge would forever be her favorite.

________________________________________________________________

"Janie! I'm lost!" Her Mother had this weird habit of yelling through the phone, so Jane put it on speakerphone and left it on her counter.

"Ma, I sent you the address!"

"I know, but Ron's GPS isn't working and my phone keeps sending me in circles!"

Jane had to laugh. Her Mother had a hard time with technology. "Where is Ron?"

"Back at the hotel. He's researching GPSes."

"Well, send me your location, and I'll come meet you." Her Mother had been good at that. For a while after Maura's kidnapping, she used to do it to give Jane peace of mind. With a ping, Angela sent her location, and was just a couple of blocks away.

Jane pulled into the empty parking lot, and parked right next to Ron's white car. Her Mother got out when Jane did, and despite her protests, wrapped Jane in a huge hug. "I've wanted to do this for two months, missy. Deal with it."

Jane hadn't seen her Mom since leaving for France. After a week of Maura and Jane both being stateside, Ron decided to take Angela on a road trip. They had spent a few days in New York City, a couple of days at the Hamptons, had been to Hershey Pennysylvania, and had updated Jane on their journey along the way. "Well, I'm sorry to hear about the GPS." Jane teased her Mother, putting her hands in her pockets. "You can just follow me home, though."

"Sounds like a plan." At this Jane nodded, reaching for her door. "Oh, Jane! You'll never guess what I saw on the road!"

Stopping, Jane turned her head to face her Mother. "Was it the Mystery Machine?"

Angela laughed. "Not this time! No, we saw a turtle. Ron got out to help it across the road."

"That's nice, Ma." Jane smiled, reaching again for her car door handle. "Let's head to my apartment."

"Or maybe it was a tortoise." Jane stopped again as she spoke, sighing. "I could never tell those apart too good."

"Ma, it's hot. Let's get out of the sun. Then you can text your favorite Doctor and find out for sure."

"Well I'm just saying, I'm glad it wasn't a snapping turtle. Ron needs his fingers, you know." Angela laughed, her eyes following a car pulling in behind them.

Jane was growing tired, and had forgotten how sometimes it could be hard to get Angela back on task. "Ma, just get in the car! You can tell me all about the turtle or tortoise later!"

But as she reached for the door handle, she heard a voice from behind her that stopped her in her tracks. "Angela? Jane? What are you guys doing here?"

#fanfiction #my fic #rizzles #rizzles fic #not a couple #rizzoli and isles

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