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carllisle · 4 years

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In honour of @notquitetwilight ’s birthday, here is the latest instalment of the Cullanos prequel, the famous incident involving Esme, Carlisle’s second wife, and a motorcycle-shaped pizza slicer.

For those who have missed the instalments so far, see below:

The Second Mrs Cullano - Carlisle’s wedding to Wife 2

A Taste of Boston Part I - Carlisle and Wife 3 Esme take business with the daughter they are newly reunited with to Boston

A Taste of Boston Part II - Carlisle and Esme take on a hit job while their daughter Rosalie gets to grips with this new lifestyle

More content can be found on @notquitetwilight ‘s blog under the tag the-cullanos and on my blog @carllisle under the tag the-cullanos.

This instalment has content warning for sex (not explicit) and violence. Don’t get us wrong, this is still shitposting. But at this point we are really, really invested. Shout to @stregoni-benefici and @carlislesscarf who are screaming in the back of the clown car that me and Juliet are steering.

The Second Wife and the Pizza Slicer

Esme liked the rain. She liked how the streetlights reflected in the water on the pavement, the neon colours lighting up her path. It didn’t lighten her black mood. The sound of her stiletto steps were lost in the rain as she marched down the street like she owned it. Half of it she did own, not that the IRS needed to know that. There was only one shopfront she was interested in tonight, though. Ahead, the pizzeria stood dark and empty, unassuming and inconspicuous wedged between a barbers’ shop, and a meat deli. Convenient for the pizzeria to have one of their suppliers next door. Those shops were closed too but that was to be expected; it was after 1am.

Her heart raced in anticipation as she walked through the darkness. Between the buildings was a small alleyway and she slipped down it. At the back door of the pizzeria was Tony, the long-time security guard who took most night shifts on the property, and Esme forced a smiled at him. “Hey handsome. They leave you out here without an umbrella?”

He grinned at her, rain dripping down his bald head and onto his coat. “I left it on the subway on my way in.”

“Carl not give you a lift?” Tony lived practically on Carlisle’s route into the pizzeria and he often picked him up when they both had to come in. Tony glanced at the sleek Mercedes that was hidden at the back of the alley and shook his head. “The mrs came in with him today.”

The mrs. Snakes writhed in her stomach. She couldn’t bite back her spite and it wiped the smile off her face. “Is the cunt with him now?”

“Nah. She left ‘bout an hour after they arrived. Carlisle helped them out in the kitchen tonight and she didn’t much like being left alone.”

“Heaven fuckin forbid she make herself useful. She’s only meant to be four months pregnant, ain’t she? Not exactly time for her confinement.”

Tony’s smile faltered. “Something like that. You got any weapons on ya?”

Esme frowned. “What if I say no? Ya gonna pat me down?”

“No. Won’t let you in, though. You’re always packin’.”

“You got me there.” Esme opened her coat, taking out her two handguns - white and inlaid with mother-of-pearl - and handing them over. Tony raised his eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. Knives were taken out of each shoe along with the two throwing-stars strapped to her thigh.

“Is that everything?”

“You know I don’t need weapons to kill him, right? I could kill him with my bare hands.”

“I know.” He hid her weapons in his coat carefully. “But you won’t. So I don’t worry.”

Fury rippled through her and her eyes went wide for a moment, but he held her gaze and she let out a hard breath through her nose. He was right. “You’ve worked for us too fuckin long. You can read me too well.” But her hard face broke and she gave him a genuine, albeit brief, grin. Anger had only flared in her because he was too right. “Here,” she gave him her umbrella. “You need this more than me.”

Tony smiled. “Thanks, Esme. In ya go.” And he pressed his thumb to the scanner on the door and let it swing open.

She lightly punched him on the shoulder as she passed, and waited for the door to close before making her way down the corridor. Ahead were the stairs to Carlisle’s office and she ran up them quickly, anger creeping back. It had been months since she had been here last. Since Mrs Cullano announced to the world her pregnancy, actually. Esme had cut off all contact with Carlisle that day. He had broken her goddamn heart and sadness hadn’t yet set in. She was still a raging fire and she was ready to burn down anyone who came too close. But when he had called her sounding unhinged and told her to meet her here, she couldn’t tell him no, cause she knew that tone he had - it was the same one he had had when, six months ago, they had been told that ten million had gone missing. Esme had recovered it from the 15-year-old hacking prodigy who had stolen it before adding her to the payroll, but before that Carlisle had been enraged and dangerous and he needed her to hold him back. Something bad had happened.

“Carlisle?” The door to his office was unlocked but he wasn’t inside and it was dark. On the far side of the room was a wall of bookshelves and she quickly crossed to it and pulled on one book - The Godfather by Mario Puzo - and the bookshelf swung open like a door. Carlisle had always joked how cool he thought secret doorways were and they both thought the choice of book to be the secret lever was funny. It felt like a million years ago. It felt like yesterday. Behind it was another corridor and a metal spiral staircase that led down to the final door - that only opened one way - into the restaurant below. No one was allowed to use this but Carlisle and Esme, not even Mrs Cullano. Her heels clacked on the iron and her fur coat dragged out behind her. She tossed it aside on one of the booths close to the kitchen and she caught sight of her reflection in the windows. No, I don’t want to seduce my ex boyfriend, she had told herself earlier, but her wardrobe choice said otherwise. She wore the red satin dress he had bought her for his second wedding, backless save for chains of diamonds and clinging to every curve she had, and the ring he had bought her as a sign of their commitment still kept its place on her right hand. She looked away, embarrassed at how long it had taken her to make her hair so sleek and soft, or how long it had taken to slap on her face. It was exactly how she had looked at his wedding, like she wanted to punish him for marrying that bitch.

“Carlisle?”

“Kitchen,” came his reply.

She strutted through the kitchen door and tried to keep her breathing under control. After not seeing him for so long, the sight of him was overwhelming. Carlisle stood at the salad bar chopping lettuce. On the counter behind him was a fresh pizza, the slicer forgotten next to it.

“You didn’t sound right on the phone.”

“I ain’t right.” He looked up at her and his eyes went wide. “Oh God, Es. You look…”

“Whaddya want?”

His jaw clenched. “It’s her.”

“Her?” Esme heard the spite in that one word. “Your baby bank?”

Carlisle turned to toss the knife he was using into the sink. “Don’t call her that.”

“What? You don’t want me calling her what she is?”

“She ain’t.”

Esme laughed bitterly. “She got your baby in her, ain’t she? The fuck else you want me to call her? Yummy mommy? Mother of your child? Gimme a fuckin break.”

“Es-”

“No, don’t! You called me out here in a fuckin storm to help with your marital problems? Get outta here!”

“Es-”

“I don’t wanna hear it! You dragged me out here in the middle of the fuckin night to tell me you got problems with your cunt of a wife? The one you knocked up who’s now shouting from every fuckin rooftop that Carlisle Cullano came in her! God, it makes me sick.”

“What the fuck is wrong with-”

“Shut up!” Esme stared at him across the kitchen. It was hard not to cry. It felt like her heart was breaking. When she had heard that Mrs Cullano was pregnant it felt like her world was collapsing. In the month and a half since then everything had gone black and white but that was what it was always like without her other half, just empty. Carlisle put colour into the world.

“Weeks without contact and this is how we’re gonna start, huh?” His words weren’t gentle. He looked wounded. “Not even a ‘hello’?”

Esme sucked her teeth. “Hi.”

Carlisle laughed humourlessly. “So we’ll cut the bullshit, will we? Right to it? Where the fuck have you been?”

“On vacation.”

“Where?”

“Nowhere in particular. Just needed a break.”

“From what, Es? Me? What’s got you so bothered?”

“Your kid, Carlisle! She’s having your fuckin baby!” Esme’s shout came short and furious and she threw a plate at the far wall. It smashed loudly. “D’ya know what that’s doin to me?”

He stared at her across the kitchen, mouth open and eyes wide. He looked angry. “Ain’t that what you wanted for me? To have a wife and kids, cause you knew it’s what I wanted? I did what you told me.”

Esme threw her hands into the air. “Yeah, and?”

“I’m not a fuckin mind reader!” He slammed his fists on the metal worktop, his voice getting louder. “‘I want you to have a wife and a family’, that’s what you said to me on the morning of my fucking wedding! I asked you to marry me on the day of my fucking wedding to her! And you turned me down again! I did what you told me to do and now you’re fucking punishing me! How’s that fair?”

Blond hair fell into his eyes like it did when they fucked. His face was red like it was then too. Esme saw the pain in his face, the anger that matched her own. “You shoulda known.”

“You didn’t even know. I can’t read minds and I can’t see the future and I can’t feel how you’re feelin unless you tell me!”

“Alright.” Esme stormed over to him and slammed her hand on the counter next to his. She raised her chin in a challenge. “I hate her. I hate her perfect face, her perfect fuckin body, every strand of hair on that empty fuckin head. I hate that you chose her.”

“I didn’t!” He seemed to tower over her but she stood her ground. “I chose you! I choose you every goddamn time! But you don’t ever choose me! Do you know how many times you broken my heart?”

If it was half the number of times she had broken her own heart, Esme was sorry. She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was impossible to talk about right now. “You gonna tell me why you’re calling me out here sounding like that?”

It looked like Carlisle wanted to shout again and his hands balled into fists either side of his salad.. “She ain’t pregnant, and if she was it wouldn’t be mine. Probably my cousin Renato’s.”

That pulled Esme up short. There was too much to unpack. “Whaddya talkin about?”

“She been fuckin him. For months, Es. Maybe a year.”

“Renato? But why? He looks so much like you but he’s got half the braincells and twice the idiocy. Why’s she fuckin a Dollar Tree version of you?”

“Cause I weren’t gettin her pregnant.” He dropped his gaze.

Esme blinked, trying to process it. Her lash extensions were heavy and made her vision go funny, so she fixed her gaze on Carlisle’s face instead. “How’d you find out about them?”

“She kept sneaking off so I had her followed. Got plenty of photos proving it. I’ve seen way more of Renato than I’m comfortable confessing to Father Thomas, but at least he looks like me. Guess it’s kinda like watching my clone fuck my wife.”

“That ain’t right. And why the fuck would she lie about being pregnant?” Esme’s hands were trembling.

He sighed. “She knows I don’t love her and I think she knows I wanna leave but she would miss the money, ya know? So she wants a way to keep me tied to her.”

Esme’s anger was bubbling beneath the surface. She hated that bitch more than ever for making Carlisle look like that. “How did ya find out about the faked pregnancy?”

“Medical records are kept online now. Your little hacker found hers. Two weeks ago she had a negative pregnancy test at her doctors’, and another one twelve weeks ago. There was never a fuckin baby.”

“That lying cunt. Why’d you think it’s your cousin’s if there had been one, anyway? Ain’t you hittin it raw?”

“Yeah. But… I can’t have kids.”

“We had one. Or did you forget?”

Carlisle grabbed Esme’s wrist and roughly pulled her closer. “I think about her every day, Es. Every goddamn day, just like I think about you.”

“Don’t.” She tried to pull away half-heartedly, her voice angry. “I can’t.” He ran his fingers through her hair and she stumbled closer until their bodies were pressed together. Knowing the wife wasn’t pregnant had broken down one of Esme’s walls. “Why’d you say you can’t have kids?”

“I got the snip.”

“When?”

“Two weeks into my first marriage.”

Esme gripped the front of his jacket in both hands. “Why?”

He slid his hands to the small of her back and his fingers caught on the diamonds. “You look so fucking good, Es.”

She shook him lightly. “Why’d you do that?”

Carlisle grinned half-heartedly. “Cause I knew I didn’t want no kids with no one but you.”

“I wanted to die when I heard she was knocked up.”

He stroked her hair again. “Don’t say that, Essie.”

“I mean it. I thought about it, ya know? I was gonna drive my car into the Hudson and let it drown me.”

“Hey.” Carlisle held her chin between his finger and thumb and tilted her face up to look her in the eye. “Don’t ever say that, baby. I ain’t livin in a world without ya, alright? You go, I go.”

She took his hand and kissed his palm, keeping her gaze locked with his. “You go, I go.”

“I fuckin love you, Es.”

“I fuckin hate her.”

“Yeah, me too.” Carlisle sighed and ran his finger down her neck and torso, watching how the silk of her dress moved over her skin. “What are we gonna do?”

“We? She’s your wife.”

He chuckled. “My problem is your problem, ain’t it?”

Esme hit his chest again. She was still furious. “Unfortunately, yeah. Want me to kill her?”

“Nah. I don’t want cops sniffing around ya. Someone else should probably do it.”

“Tanya owes me a favour, what about her?”

“Don’t trust her, Es, she’ll double cross ya soon as she’ll fuck ya.”

She managed half a smirk. “Weren’t that long ago she fucked us. Guess we’re due for a double crossing, then. So not her. The Blacks?”

“They don’t trust us and I can’t blame em for that. We’ll think of someone.”

There was a long silence then. Esme pulled free from his arms and slowly wandered around the pizzeria kitchen. Her heels echoed over tile and steel. She was the other side of the industrial island counter and Carlisle was arranging his salad into edible art when she spoke again. “I wanna do it, Carl.”

“What?” He looked up at her with lettuce sticking out the corner of his mouth.

“I wanna be the one.”

“I dunno if that’s the best idea.” He turned away from her to grab a slice of pizza that was on the counter behind him.

“You married the cunt.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know she was gonna be this fuckin crazy!” Carlisle protested indignantly. He took a bite and wrinkled his nose. “Fuck. Why does my dough always turn out like shit?”

“Cause you ain’t ever learned from the Old Country. You do it the American way.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he laughed. “Most Italian place you ever been is the Shore!”

“That’s cause my cheap partner never took me on vacation anywhere more exotic than Miami Beach!” She strutted back over to him and took a bite from the slice. “God, it is shit. Reckon even Renato could do better.”

He laughed again and wrapped her in his arms and stroked the skin of her back. “I missed you, ya know?”

“Yeah, me too. But I mean it, Carlisle. I wanna be the one to pull the trigger.”

Sweeping her hair over her shoulder, Carlisle kissed her neck. “You gonna shoot her?”

It was impossible to keep her eyes open. “Maybe. I dunno. Fuck,” she sighed quietly when he bit where her neck met her shoulder. She had missed him more than words could say. “I want her gone. She betrayed you and she took you from me.”

His kisses moved down her collarbones and to the neckline of her dress. “No one can ever take me from you, Esme. I’m yours.” When he grasped her by the waist and turned her, she knew what he wanted. He lifted her onto the counter next to the bad pizza and he kissed her mouth. She parted her lips and grinned when she tasted salad and pizza margherita on his tongue. It didn’t matter. It was him.

After a while he sank to his knees in front of her and pushed up her red dress. “Fuck, Es. No underwear? Did you come here with an agenda?”

“Who says I wasn’t going somewhere else after here?” she asked, but her voice was shaky as he pulled her to the edge of the counter. She gripped the edge for support and the pizza slicer brushed her fingers.

“You sleeping with someone else?” Carlisle murmured against her inner thigh.

“Well since we stopped seeing each other, I have an opening available.”

“No you fuckin don’t.” His blond head disappeared under the short hem of her dress and Esme wondered, in the back of her mind, if Tony would be able to hear her screams. Carlisle certainly liked her taste better than the pizza.

Some time later they were both so lost in their passion that they didn’t hear the unlocking of the front door or the quiet steps in the restaurant. Esme’s face was buried in Carlisle’s neck as he pounded her on the counter and his eyes were closed in bliss.

“What a fuckin surprise.”

Both of their gazes snapped to the kitchen door that had swung open. Stood in the unflattering industrial fluorescents stood Mrs Cullano, a pistol raised. It reminded Esme of the one she had taken to their wedding. Unreliable, difficult. Mrs Cullano was no shooter. Instinctively Carlisle shielded Esme with his body, still inside her. Esme couldn’t hold back a moan at his movement.

“You’re dead, Platt,” Mrs Cullano hissed, her finger on the trigger. Her arm wasn’t steady.

“Kill her and I’ll tear your fuckin throat out.” Carlisle’s voice was low and deadly.

“And murder our baby?”

“Give it up. There ain’t no baby. And if there was, it would be Renato’s. You think I’d let you have my kids? You’re mad.”

Mrs Cullano’s face went red.

“Carlisle,” Esme said quietly. She turned Carlisle’s face back to her. “She ain’t got the guts. Fuck me. Please?” It was a move of dominance to show Mrs Cullano, an outsider, that no one would ever come between them or their love. And that Carlisle would always choose Esme no matter what. He leaned down to kiss her and moved with her.

The scream that Mrs Cullano let out haunted them both for years to come. Absolute grief and loss echoed in the kitchen, rage and delirium. When the gun went off the bullet went stray and was embedded in the wall over the stove. Without missing a beat, Esme grabbed the pizza slicer next to her and threw it with unbelievable precision. The only sound was that of the young woman’s body collapsing onto the floor, the round blade with a handle in the shape of a Harley-Davidson buried deep into her forehead. Instant death. Blood poured from the wound. Esme felt relief and pride wash over her.

“Fuck,” Carlisle gasped, moving faster. He kissed her hard and gripped her hips and then rested their sweaty foreheads together. “That was so fucking hot. Marry me, Es? Marry me, please!”

Esme moaned and nodded, clutching his back to stop her from losing herself completely. They were both close, both more turned on by exacting revenge than they could handle. “Yes! Yes, Carl, I’ll marry you!”

After they had finished and set their clothes right, Esme stood over the dead Mrs Cullano’s body. “Jesus Christ, what a fuckin mess. This blood is gonna take ages to clean, look, it’s gone all under the cupboards! Ugh. I don’t have the energy.”

“What should we do with her?”

“I dunno. She’s your fuckin wife.”

“Was. She’s no one’s wife now, she’s fuckin dead.”

“Well, yeah. Hey, d’ya mean what you said? To marry ya?”

“Yeah. Did you really mean you would?”

Esme stepped over the body and made sure not to get blood on her Jimmy Choos. “Yeah. I wanna be your wife.”

Neither of them smiled, but they shared a long gaze. Then Carlisle pulled out his phone and quickly dialled a number. “Hey, it’s me. Get some of your guys down the pizzeria, we need some clearing up done. Yeah. Mhm. Three or four. Yeah. Platt’s with me. Ha! Yeah. Yeah, the Mrs found us. Esme put her down, though, so we need it sorted. Clean-up and removal, remember this is a working kitchen, alright? I want it clean of evidence and up to code, ya goddit? Okay. See ya in twenty.”

Esme opened one of the cleaning cupboards and pulled out a spray and cloth.

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” Carlisle told her and he waved a hand. “They’ll be here soon for her.”

Esme looked pointedly at the counter where he had fucked her and grinned. “I was thinking more about cleaning that up. Don’t want extra flavour in the pizza tomorrow, do ya?” Bending over, she sprayed the wet area on the metal countertop. With great satisfaction she felt him press against her backside and stroke up her back. “Ready for round two already?”

“You fuckin bet. D’you know how much it turned me on to see you like that?”

“Yeah. But save it. Let’s not have our first time as an engaged couple be in front of your dead wife. Bring’s a whole new meaning to ‘the body’s not even cold’, don’t it?”

Grinning, Carlisle kissed her back. “Or when she told me she’d let me keep you ‘over her dead body’, huh? Joke’s on her.”

Esme wiped the counter down thoroughly and threw the cloth in the nearby bin. She turned and loosely wrapped her arms around his neck. “Ain’t no one tell the Surgeon what he can and cannot do.

“Nah, no one. No one but his Heart.”

#the cullanos #sex cw //////#ellie writes #notquitetwilight #CAN YOU BELIEVE #THIS IS WHERE WE ARE AT THIS POINT #there r a few things mentioned here that will be expanded on in future instalments gfhdjgkfdh #anyway like juliet said we need the vaccine

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ratisnotcrying · 3 years

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Juno Steel and how to pretend you’re fine

Summary: Juno hasn’t had a bad day in a long time. Okay, maybe he has, but not a bad-bad day, not a self-sacrifice-and-gun-fights bad day, not a what-if-I-crash-my-car bad day. He especially hadn’t had an I-need-to-hurt-myself-and-I-don’t-care-who-I-take-with-me kind of bad day.Except today. Today felt like all of those wrapped into one and multiplied by a thousand.

Prompt: “What if I just crash this car and make it all stop?” from prompt-dealer (i think)

Pairings: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel

Warnings: canon typical suicidal thoughts/ suicidal tendancies, mentions of car crashes, intrusive thoughts, previous minor character death

Word count: 1.6K

A/N: this is cross posted on ao3 - please lmk if i need to add any tags

~~~

Juno hasn’t had a bad day in a long time. Okay, maybe he has, but not a bad-bad day, not a self-sacrifice-and-gun-fights bad day, not a what-if-I-crash-my-car bad day. He especially hadn’t had an I-need-to-hurt-myself-and-I-don’t-care-who-I-take-with-me kind of bad day.

Except today. Today felt like all of those wrapped into one and multiplied by a thousand.

The old Juno would have given in. He would have entertained the idea for all of no time at all and then dived in head first with his eyes wide open. Juno-now (he wasn’t a new Juno, he was just… now, here) still entertained the idea, hell, he might even wonder why he wanted to do whatever it was. But he wouldn’t do it. Probably.

He definitely wouldn't hurt someone else, no matter what he did.

~~~

It had started after the last job, which had gone quite spectacularly wrong.

Juno and Peter hadn’t gone in expecting an easy job - stealing a painting off the wall of a crowded ballroom was obviously going to be difficult - but that had gone off without a hitch, had gone off easier than the last time they did such a heist. No, the real issue came when a different thief had tried to steal a vase and gotten caught. It wasn’t even a nice vase, definitely not nice enough to die over.

It had turned into a messy hostage situation, Juno’s HCPD training and his own career as professional hostage kicking in as he tried desperately to find a way to get everyone out.

You can’t save everyone, Juno.

Three civilians and the thief had wound up dead, and more injured than Juno’s guilt ridden brain could count, and by the time he and Peter were back on the Carte Blanche, Juno could barely speak for the shock of what had happened. Neither Buddy nor Peter said anything when Peter debriefed with no input from Juno.

Buddy did, however, decide to put off selling the painting for a little while, giving everyone some time to relax. This is where Juno’s bad day had started.

~~~

In the timeless limbo between jobs, it was easy to lose yourself: Rita in her streams with Jet; Buddy and Vespa in their wedding plans, and Peter and Juno in each other. Juno couldn’t help the feeling he was losing himself alone.

He knows he should have said something to Peter, or Rita, or even Vespa if he was desperate, but he was too busy trying to convince himself had it under control.

His mind had been racing in loose circles, chasing empty thoughts and half-memories of every time Juno had fucked up, every time he had let someone die, every time he had almost let someone die.

Benten. Yasmin. Alessandra.

His head felt heavy with it, weighing him down into a feeling he thought he had long forgotten, numbing him so he couldn’t feel his way out. All he could find in the mess was the handy how-to he had written himself.

How to pretend your fine when you absolutely, totally are - by Juno Steel

~~~

He had been doing a good job, if he did say so himself. Even if he and the rest of the ship knew that was a lie.

Rita had been hovering more, not smothering him, just letting him know she was there; Jet never mentioned when Juno came and sat silently with him for a few hours, handing him tools when he asked. Buddy had outright told him that if he wanted to talk then she would always have time, ‘always, darling, just say the word’. Even Vespa had been a little nicer - their typically aggressive banter becoming more like a strangely aggressive therapy.

And Peter. Peter was Juno’s anchor. He always was.

But he could only pretend for so long.

~~~

Tonight, Juno wanted to drive - being inside was not helping, and so, from one moment to the next, Juno found himself behind the wheel, Peter in the passenger seat. It was late and Juno couldn't remember what planet they were on anymore.

The car’s single head light shone dimly on the road in front of them and Juno stared blankly through the windshield, muscle memory alone stopping him from crashing.

He used to do this, he used to drive for hours, let his numbness fill the car till he forgot he was driving and drifted mentally, drifted physically…

He wanted to drift today. He wanted to feel weightless.

The repetitive splashing rounds of the wheels sent Juno spiralling again, an endless list of people he had failed circling through his mind over and over and over again and goddammit he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, he needed it to stop, even if just for a second.

“What if I just crash this car and make it all stop?”

~~~

Peter had noticed the shift in Juno immediately after the job. He had seen his smiles become more strained, his eyes were hazy and unfocussed, movements slowed - as if he was drifting away, moving through a time Peter wasn’t quite in.

He stayed close to Juno, and when Juno suggested a drive, Peter thought maybe this could be a good time to talk to him. But Juno had said nothing. They had been driving for hours. The suns had set and Juno didn’t seem to be heading home anytime soon, so Peter was about to speak, about to ask Juno what he could do.

“What if I just crash this car and make it all stop?”

Peter was silent for a second, not quite sure he had heard Juno properly. Juno didn’t even seem aware that he had spoken aloud, nor did he seem to remember Peter was even there. He’s almost certain that the car was speeding up.

“Juno, can you pull over please, love?”

The car swerved slightly, Juno startled at Peter’s voice, and Peter reached out and grabbed the wheel, pulling them back onto the road, “Juno, you need to pull over.”

The car slowed and, after what felt like a lifetime, came to a stop, a small cloud of dust flying up from under the wheels.

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should be fine.” Juno’s hands were gripped tightly on the wheel in a way that could have only been painful.

“Why don’t we get some fresh air, and then we can talk?”

Slowly, even slower than in the past week, Juno climbed out of the car and sat with Peter on the bonnet, staring up at the sky.

“I should be fine,” he said again, “I’ve been fine and now… and now I'm not fine!” Juno choked on a sob. God, he hated being vulnerable.

Peter considered this for a moment, “I know this is going to sound cliche, dear, but you don’t have to be okay. You’re allowed to be sad and angry, and-”

“But I am always angry, Nureyev. Always. I am angry at myself because I keep letting people get hurt and get dead. I’m angry at my mom and I’m angry at every goddamn person I meet and I don’t even know why half the time. There’s just- there’s just rage, and I can control it, better than I could before, but I dont- I dont know if I want to anymore. I just want to let go.”

“Why can’t you let it out, Juno?”

“I’ve done that before. Blind rage is how you get got,” Juno very carefully didn’t look at Peter when he said, “Letting go is how… letting go is how I nearly got myself. I’ve come so close to leaving this place, finally getting some damned rest. I don’t know what kept me here.”

Peter tried not to be too shocked at the almost wistful tone Juno used - they could talk about that another day, for now Peter just prompted, “You’re still here?”

Juno laughed humourlessly, “Yeah, that’s because I always got stupid lucky, and one day that’s gonna bite me in the ass. It was always other people getting got, never me,” He laid back against the windscreen, legs kicking softly at the bumper, “God, I’ve killed so many people.”

“Did you, though? Did you kill them all or did you blame yourself for not being able to do the impossible? Did you blame yourself for not being able to save every single person you met - a task which, I might add, is quite impossible, love.”

He shook his head and kept staring at the stars, looking for answers in the constellations. Peter laid next to him.

It was a few minutes before Juno broke the silence, “Can we stay here a little while, before we go back?”

Peter would’ve stayed there all night if that’s what Juno needed.

“Would you tell me a story, Juno? Maybe about someone you saved?”

Reluctantly, Juno began to tell Peter about an eccentric real estate lawyer and her exploding, tuna-brick-loving cat, absently tracing patterns on the back of Peter’s hand.

They laid there for almost an hour, but the cool night was interrupted by Peter’s comms beeping twice, signifying a message.

Is everything okay darling? You’ve been gone a while.

As good as it can be right now. We’ll be back soon.

“Who’s that?” Juno mumbled sleepily, his gaze shifting to Peter.

“It was Buddy. Perhaps we should head back to the Carte Blanche.”

Juno nodded, sliding off the car but stopping short halfway to the driverside.

“Would you like me to drive, dear?.”

Juno looked like he wanted to protest, like he wanted to tell Peter that he wouldn’t actually crash, but instead he just nodded and tossed the keys over the car.

~~~

Peter knew that they would have to talk properly, they had to talk about Juno trusting him and the rest of their family; they would definitely have to talk about Juno’s allusions to his… more self destructive tendencies. For now, though, Juno dozing on his shoulder, the night road leading them home, would be enough to put both of their minds at rest for the night.

#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra spoilers #a bit #canon typical suicidal thoughts #intrusive thoughts #car crash #mention #car accident #junoverse #juno steel #peter nureyev #lmk if i need to tag anything else

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danger-xylophones · 4 years

Text

Major Buir (Plo Koon x reader)

{masterlist}

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Unedited, Plo Koon trying to flirt but not quite understanding how to make the swoon, Wolffe being the embarrassed son, potential second hand embarrassment for the reader because I think that Plo is very sweet but is not well versed in the art of flirting. Clones being dumb and cute. Angry Wolffe, potential fluff overload-I got a little carried away.

Notes: Yeeee it’s my first time writing for Plo-would it be wrong to tag?...I’m gonna do it. @a-dorin , I would like to thank you for inspiring me to write this. I find myself steadily becoming a Plo simp and your fics have only accelerated my downward spiral.

Also, this was only supposed to be about 1.5k words...woops

……………………………………

“From this, we can conclude that the remnants of the Ehterium cluster supernova would provide a suitable route around this Separatist controlled rat’s nest.” You sniffed carefully and lowered the pointer to tap against the ground but it landed on your foot. Swiftly, you moved it again so it actually tapped against the durasteel floor of the briefing room. A few chuckles slipped from the gathered cloned men and Jedi generals currently scanning over your notes on the holomap that had witnessed the little slip-up. “Though I can understand the hesitance-which is why I have also taken the liberty of charting a different course around the cluster entirely. It would take much longer though and would put you in more danger in the long run as you’d be exposed and out of range for too...long.” You trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of the overuse of the word ‘long’. Even though you’d worked for the GAR since the start of the clone wars (and technically before that if you counted all the academy training) you’d never gotten the hang of the ‘intimidating analytics and tactician officer’ schtick despite trying. You were often compared to a little mouse in the academy-even when you were wielding a blaster. But that hardly mattered when you were one of the top tacticians in the army and the Jedi were very kind to you. Especially General Plo Koon. He was incredibly patient with you as you adjusted to life with the 104th after being transferred from the 205th and he gave off this very warm and loving vibe.

And thankfully your new general was among the Jedi present-calmly looking at you with hands clasped behind his back, respectfully silent as the other masters muttered over the maps you’d provided. You met his eyes uncertainly. While it wasn’t like this was your first time pitching a new tactic to a general it was the first time you’d ever pitched an idea to so many people (eight, to be exact) that were so high ranking. The room was currently occupied by yourself, Depa Billaba, Obi Wan Kenobi, Cody, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Commander Wolffe, and Plo Koon and while none of them were ever rude to you it was hard to not be intimidated. You weren’t the one that had to go through with this plan-they did. They were the ones in danger. Sure, you could lose your job but they could lose their lives. So, you looked to Plo Koon as he would be sure to tell you what he thought.

Perhaps he was so open with you because he could read you better than anyone else? He always knew what you were thinking and knew exactly what to say to help you. If you were honest, it was no wonder why you two were fast friends. And it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that certain feelings had crept up on you. Although you had resigned yourself to never act on them for both of your sakes there was no helping the admiration that prompted you to value the Kel Dor’s opinion over anyone else’s. And just like so many times before, it seemed like Plo knew this for he offered a single nod to you when your eyes met. The tension fled from your shoulders instantly as a silent sigh of relief slipped from you. Plo Koon approved. You had done good. He knew how hard you had worked on the new plans and could cite several instances where he had stumbled upon you slumped over your desk as the testimony to your dedication. Each time the Kel Dor quietly lifted you to your feet and encouraged you to leave the work for the next day as he escorted you back to your quarters. Once the two of you got there, he’d always, always place a secure hand on your shoulder with a squeeze that just barely made his talons dig into your greys as he bid you goodnight before sweeping away with one last order to get some sleep tossed over his shoulder. It was similar small gestures like those that gave you hope that were your situations different-he being a normal citizen like you and not a Jedi with no trace of war-that maybe something could happen. But alas…

“I must say, Major, I do believe you’ve outdone yourself.” Kenobi was the first among the Jedi to speak with one hand clasping his chin and the other clasping his elbow in typical Obi Wan fashion as he scanned over the details once more.

You dipped your head with a carefully practiced, “thank you, General” as your immediate reply though deep inside, your pride swelled. This was possibly your most ambitious plan yet and one that had presented significant challenges. While you were a good tactician, your strong suits lie in terrestrial combat and not space. It felt great to be validated.

“Yes but…” Depa Billaba began with her arms dutifully crossed over her chest as she scrutinized further, “what are we to do about this asteroid field that cuts through our path?” The Jedi asked calmly and you brightened at the mention of it because you had banged your head against it every which way. The asteroid field was the one thing you couldn’t accurately account for as the data you had received on it initially had been outdated. And you explained as much to her.

“However, I am happy to tell you that I may have found a way to...acount for this hazard.” You cleared your throat and leaned over the console to zoom in on the area in question. “This asteroid field is large, messy, and problematic, and had you asked me how to avoid it earlier I wouldn’t have had an answer. But, I think that the best course of action is to separate-to make it look as though the three of you-” you pointed to the generals you were specifying, “are escorting Depa Billaba till she comes in range with the nearby medical station. That way if any Separatists follow you, you can still maintain the element of surprise because I know that if we can make General Billaba’s starship appear vulnerable that they will go for it. Worst case scenario, you dust off the guns a little preemptively. Best case-” again, you clicked another button that revealed a dotted red path through the holo projection, “you can use the asteroids as extra cover while you navigate through this path.” You paused a moment, eyes shifting to gauge the reactions of everyone. From across the table, your eyes met with Commander Wolffe’s who raised an eyebrow at you. “Clone intelligence has informed me that this path might be outdated as well but we will be active on the comms to offer guidance through the field as you go.” Commander Wolffe gave a firm nod and, again, the Jedi and clones retreated inwards to try and think of any situations that they would need to be prepared for. In the weighted silence that followed, you were keenly aware of Plo Koon drawing closer to you as he methodically circled the console before you. His hands remained clasped behind his back the entire time and you couldn’t help but watch him as he approached.

He came to a stop right next to you-close enough for your arms to brush and for his warmth to seep through the fabric of your greys. Plo Koon remained quiet for a little longer, leaving you more time to fight the instinct that told you to lean closer to him before he moved his arms. His taloned hand brushed the back of your own and his vambrace bumped your forearm as he brought his arms up to cross over his torso. You couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling of even that minuscule contact which almost caused you to miss the compliment he paid your way.

“Uh...th-thank you, General.” You coughed into your fist in a not so subtle way to correct your stutter. “But really, my plan is only good because my data was good. You should really thank your men that got me the information.”

The Kel Dor made a huffing sound that would have sounded like a laugh if not for the heavy overlay from his mask. “Believe me, Major, I will but you do deserve some of the credit.” He stressed, even going so far as to grasp your shoulder very briefly. You could still feel the imprint of his touch when he moved his hand away.

“Anakin, you’re being unusually quiet.” Obi Wan saved you from further implosion as he addressed his former padawan. You and Plo Koon both turned your attention back to the other occupants in the room and you were unsettled to find General Skywalker’s eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny as he glanced between you and the Jedi Master. Perhaps more alarming though was Wolffe’s face. He was staring at Plo Koon with what you could only describe as a bug-eyed look.

“Just thinking, master.” Skywalker eventually answered. Your jaw tensed in uncertainty though the younger man said nothing more regarding the visual dissection of your interaction.

The meeting continued for a few more minutes with you working to finalize the more minute details and to take measures to establish backup plans that would most likely be abandoned by the Jedi at the first sign of conflict and the Jedi began to disperse with their own CO’s. Eventually, that left just you, Wolffe, and Plo Koon. At the first sign that the meeting was adjourned, you began to pack your things up and to log off the computers but instead of leaving you to your own devices like you thought he would, Plo Koon remained with you. He casually waited at the console you had left him at with his hands clasped before his diaphragm, a common gesture for him you’d noticed, while Wolffe awkwardly hovered near the door.

“Was there anything else you needed, General?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at the Kel Dor. He stood up straight and approached with light footsteps.

“Not particularly, Major, but I would like to congratulate you once again on another excellently thought out plan.” Plo Koon’s voice was as calm as it ever was but there was something there-a slight lilt you weren’t familiar with or maybe it was better described as a squeak? Slowly spinning on your heel, you turned to face him.

“Well,...thank you, General. It...It’s my job.” A part of you swore at your inability to take a compliment properly while the other parts were all focused on Plo Koon. Sure, he’d complimented you on your plans before (he did during the meeting) but he had always reserved the more serious praise for after the missions and the debriefings. He’d never stayed after the preliminary meetings.

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you called me Plo Koon-it feels far too impersonal to be addressed as ‘general’ outside of meetings.” The Kel Dor explained with a raised hand to stop you from saying anything else till he had said his piece.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Before eventually sliding your gaze over to Wolffe who had a hand clasped over his eyes. That gesture only added kindling to the confused fire as you returned to the man in front of you. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss-his mask looked in place and to your knowledge, he hadn’t been in the medbay recently. “As...whatever you wish...Plo.” You swallowed, his name-something you’d said in your head thousands of times before-felt foreign on your tongue. “You can of course call me ‘Y/n’...then.” You offered uncertainly.

“Of course,” he echoed with a nod. “I’ve always thought your name fitting.”

“Thank you…?” You asked uncertainly.

“I just mean that it is a strong name and you bear it well.”

“...” Again, you couldn’t help but look over at Wolffe who had taken his face in his hands in what could only be described as a picture of absolute mortification. His helmet was awkwardly squished into his chest as he shook his head from side to side, lips moving as he formed words you couldn’t hear from where you stood. “I...uh...I like your name too, Plo. It’s gentle…?” You tried as you returned your attention to the Kel Dor and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

He brightened, back straightening up as he continued to regard you. “Thank you, I’m rather fond of it myself.” A silence fell over the two of you-horribly tense and laced with an awkward air you had no way of dissipating anytime soon. Averting your eyes from the Jedi, you rolled your lips in and bit them as you fished for something else to say.

“Is...are you sure there wasn’t anything you needed, General?” You finally asked after shifting on your feet for the third time.

Plo Koon shook his head, less in a form of denial and more like he was trying to shake himself out of a stupor before answering. “I’m positive but while we’re on the subject of names I feel it is important for me to inform you of the new one circulating amongst my men.”

You raised your eyebrow at the Jedi, not missing the way Wolffe froze entirely. “A new name for me or…?”

“For you.” Plo nodded. “It seems as though they’ve taken a liking to calling you ‘Major Buir’.” There was something in his voice that told you he was smiling (or the Kel Dor equivalent of smiling) beneath his anti-ox mask.

“Buir?” You questioned as your mind raced to dig up a definition for the Mando’a word you’d heard assigned to the Jedi on multiple occasions. “As in what the Wolfpack calls you?”

“Indeed. Are you familiar with Mando’a?”

“After fighting alongside the clones?-of course, but I’m afraid most of the terms I know relate to fighting, tactics, or swearing.” You explained promptly with a glance to Wolffe at the mention of his language-the clone in question looked frozen in his spot and it seemed like he was no longer alone as you could swear you saw the familiar red hair of Boost and the silver of Sinker ducking behind the doorway.

Plo Koon suddenly leaned forward, getting closer to your height as his voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Buir is Mando’a for ‘parent’, Y/n.” Immediately, it felt as though someone had locked you in carbonite-your heart was still warm as it surged with affection for the men of the 104th yet at the same time your body felt the familiar frozen tingle that so often accompanied the sensation of treading through uncharted territory. You were keenly aware of Plo Koon’s proximity and the way your heart sped as a result. In an attempt to combat this you took a deep breath to steady yourself and regain control over your vocal chords. But that was a mistake as Plo’s natural scent infiltrated your senses. He smelled of leather and fresh air, of tea tree and some other piquant scent you couldn’t name that you knew was the remnant of one of the contraband candles he had hidden aboard the ship. It was so him-something the standard issue GAR soap couldn’t hide-that it overwhelmed you in an instant and you found yourself leaning closer. He, a flame, and you, a moth.

Your lips parted slightly as your face relaxed and you swore that you’d never felt calmer. It felt like someone was wrapping you in a hug; you felt safe, wanted, and adored. “But...if they call you that and are now calling me that…” you began through the sudden dwam your mind floated in. The pieces were starting to fall into place. “Then...General Plo Koon,” your voice suddenly became firm as you forced yourself to step back, “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

Plo Koon straightened up, his hands finding their usual resting place crossed in front of his stomach. “I am. Was it not obvious?” He asked, his held tilting to the left just slightly.

You briefly thought back to the somewhat strange string of compliments he’d paid you that lead up to this. “Uh...no, not really.” You explained quickly, eyes now flickering around the room in an attempt to come up with a reply to this revelation.

“Hmm.” Plo Koon hummed. “My apologies then. Boost encouraged me to be forward-perhaps it was not enough?” You blinked up at him, gaping like a fish-if that was Plo being forward then you wouldn’t have stood a chance if he had taken a subtle route.

Before you could say anything though, Wolffe’s explosive voice cut through the briefing room as he rounded on Boost. “You told him to do what?!” The commander barked at his red-headed brother who had long since abandoned hiding behind the doorway and was now standing tall with his chest slightly puffed.

“Oh come on, Vod, we both know the General likes ‘em! And Major Buir wasn’t going to pick up on it anytime soon. I was just trying to help!” He huffed back, practically getting in Wolffe’s face.

“Meddling isn’t helping, Boost!”

“I dunno-seemed pretty effective, Commander.” Sinker chimed in.

Wolffe wheeled on him next. “Don’t tell me you were in on this too!” The one-eyed clone seethed. “If you weren’t my brother I’d-”

“Boys!” You snapped, having heard enough. The three brothers stopped immediately and turned to you; each one bore a similarly sheepish grin. With a shake of your head, you turned back to Plo who had watched on in amusement. “Plo, I’m flattered but...what about your code? I know attachments are dangerous and I wouldn’t want to be the reason you-”

The Jedi master raised a hand. “My dear, attachments aren’t dangerous. It is how they can be used against a Jedi that is.”

“I don’t follow.” You tried only for Plo to shake his head.

“Yes, you do.” The Kel Dor dropped to your height again. “Y/n, if attachments themselves were dangerous Jedi would also be forbidden from being compassionate.” You were stricken silent, painfully aware of the three pairs of eyes currently fixated on the two of you. “But even if they were, I’d still find you worth the risk.” Your heart melted, a soft ‘Plo’ slipping past your lips that made the Kel Dor incline his head. “I know you care for me too, Y/n, so...are you willing to be with me?”

You bit your lip in thought, a smile creeping across your face as you looked up at the Jedi. “I’m guessing there’s no talking you out of this?”

“You may try but my feelings will persist.” Plo countered immediately-a lightness to his voice you hadn’t heard before.

You chuckled briefly and let your gaze slide over to the three clones now curiously peering at the two of you. You took in their identical faces and the imploring looks each one was giving you. When had the Wolfpack wormed their way into your heart? Probably around the same time their general did. You turned back to Plo Koon. “I say...of course,” You smiled and slipped onto your toes to wrap your arms around the Kel Dor’s neck. He returned the embrace with a low hum, his arms slipping around your waist, “ner Jetti.” You could hear whooping and hollering from the entrance to the briefing room.

……………………………………………………..

The barracks were dark and crowded later that night-many of the men from the 104th had all crammed into one room to watch the holofilm you’d smuggled onto the starship. It had been about three weeks since the fateful meeting that led to the union of you and General Plo Koon and each day had brought a new development in your aliit as word of your relationship spread. For the most part, none of the men were surprised-some even commenting on how Plo Koon was apparently unable to tear his eyes off of you during meetings, holocalls, or your brief but frequent trips to the base on Coruscant. But there were a few who weren’t expecting it at all.

But everyone you’d told had been supportive. And now as you sat curled into Plo Koon’s side with clones draped all around you as most dozed off in the peaceful barracks you could safely say that you’d found where you belong.

A tug on your arm pulled you away from the nearly impossible to hear holofilm (the few soldiers that were still awake had turned the volume down so they could let their brothers sleep) and to the clone currently barely awake with his head on your lap. “What is it, Boost?” You asked in a whisper, keenly aware of the sleeping Sinker and Wolffe on Plo’s other side. Still, your voice managed to catch the Jedi’s attention as he turned his head towards the two you.

The red head stared up at you blearily, a yawn interrupting him before he began speaking. “I just wanted to say that I’m happy you and general buir are together now. And that I’m glad I could help.”

A breathy laugh escaped you that Plo helped quiet with a hand over your mouth. He dipped his head to gesture at Wolffe who grumbled and curled closer to Sinker in his sleep. In retaliation, you batted his hand away and rolled your eyes at the Kel Dor before looking back at the sleepy man. “I am too, Boost. Thank you.” You answered fondly, letting your head fall against Plo’s shoulder.

“Like I said-” he cut off to yawn, “happy to help...major...buir.” Boost trailed off as his eyes closed and he wormed his way closer to you.

You smiled. “Thank you, ner ad’ika.” As Boost officially fell victim to dream land you turned towards Plo who had watched the exchange carefully. The same feeling of being hugged, of being safe, wanted, and loved infiltrated your senses but you now recognized it as Plo’s signature. Still bearing that soft painted smile, you pressed your forehead to his. A final whisper of thank you slipped from you as you resigned yourself to stay in that moment forever.

#plo koon x reader #plo koon #star wars #clone wars #star wars: clone wars #tcw #wolfpack

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carrisarune · 4 years

Text

In Your Eyes

Note: This is my second attempt of dropping a fic on this site and I can only ask that you have mercy. This was an attempt to expand on the book and certain scenes with my OC. Here’s hoping it works

Tags: I was inspired by the lovely @jamespotterthefirst and their amazing works into dishing out this fic. I also want to thank them for being willing to listen to all my wild rambles in chat and me bein a weirdo. You’re awesome and I can’t thank you enough.

CHAPTER ONE: FIRST DAY INTO THE FRAY (Part 1)

With one last shove to balance the pile of boxes against the wall, Rai sighed before flopping on the bed. A room under the stairs wasn’t the most ideal place to start in a new city but at least it was something. Given how the majority of his savings and allowance had gone into paying any school debts, he was lucky enough to get the room with his own money and not have to reach out to his family. While both sides of his family were well off, using their money without contributing anything gave him hives.

On that thought, he shifted to pull out his phone from his pocket and called his parents. It took a few seconds before he heard his mum pick up. He greeted her with a, “Hey Mum, I’m all settled in-” before he was interrupted by his mum fussing over whether he was doing alright and if was really sure he didn’t want them to contact a friend for a better place to stay.

“Mum, MUM! I’m fine. It’s not the worst place to stay in the city and hey, with enough work, I can get myself a better apartment to stay in” he chirped optimistically. His words only served to have his mum fuss even more before his dad took over. Rai could easily picture his dad calming her with a kiss to the cheek as her voice faded away and was replaced with his father’s rich baritone.

He sounded amused as he spoke, “We had to stop your mother from grabbing her phone more than a few times today, you think you’re ready for your first day of work tomorrow?” showing his own turn at concern. Rai rolled his eyes as he continued to assure his parents for the next few minutes. Honestly, he managed to take care of himself in medical school, he could take care of himself in a new city.

After ending the call and seeing he had a few hours to spare, Rai carefully pulled a box of books towards him and pulled out a few he could study. As he pulled out one particular old but well-loved book, he gave a grin. It was still hard to believe that he was going to start his residency at Edenbrook tomorrow. Who knows what kind of challenges he would be facing on the job. Plus, having the chance to work and be mentored by some of the top doctors? Rai wasn’t even sure he could sleep with all the excitement buzzing through him.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of rumbling from the ceiling and gave a sigh. Well, if that was going to be a constant thing, maybe it was best to turn in early. Here was hoping he’d get a comfier place in the future.

Stepping out of the cab and taking in the hospital, Rai couldn’t stop the grin that overtook his face before he practically ran inside. Once inside though, he realized he didn’t know where to go and paused. Tilting his head in thought, he looked around for anything that might give him directions. He then felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around to see a woman with curly brown hair and a warm smile. “Hi!” she greeted, “You look lost. Let me guess… first day of your medical residency?” and Rai nodded enthusiastically. She directed him to a corner where a camera and a white sheet was set up near the reception.

He hoped that he didn’t stand out too much from the crowd. But being an Asian with windswept black hair and sharp brown eyes, Rai was sure he’d garner some curious looks like he did in school. Once he settled his ID and managed to get some helpful advice from the doctor whom he learned was Dr. Ines DeLarosa, he headed for orientation.

On the way there through the waiting room though, Rai suddenly heard gasps and turned to see a woman collapse to the ground. Quickly moving as he saw the other patients start to crowd around her, he called, “Everyone please step back! I’m a doctor” and moved to check on the woman. As he did, an attending rushed in, kneeled by her side, and checked her pulse. “Pulse is weak. She’s unresponsive” he announced then looked around before catching sight of Rai.

Without hesitation, he ordered, “You. Rookie. Get in here” and Rai quickly moved to obey with a, “Yes Doctor!” The woman was then lifted to a gurney before the doctor turned to a male nurse and asked, “What was she in for? Did she fill out a form yet?” to which the nurse replied with a negative. This clearly didn’t please the doctor as he stated, “If we don’t figure out what’s wrong with her fast, she’s gonna die on this table” before telling Rai to check the patient’s B.P.

Doing as instructed, he peered at the numbers before announcing it’s quick descent and the patient’s immediate need for fluids. While the nurse was preparing the IV, Rai noticed the rapidly forming bruise on the patient’s elbow. Knowing that she had not landed on that elbow, Rai’s mind began to rapidly speed through possibilities as he noticed the patient’s fingertips were also turning blue.

When he called the symptoms to attention and noted how the patient was most likely lacking oxygen, Rai saw the doctor nod in approval before instructing him to check on the patient’s lungs. The moment Rai did, he felt panic settle in upon hearing the failing of the organ. Urgently announcing his findings, he tried to reign in spiraling thoughts while the attending calmly announced a Code Blue and began to gently pump air into the patient.

Digging his nails into his palm to center himself, Rai asked, “What can we do doctor? The problem hasn’t been confirmed yet” his mind whirling through all possible answers. With intense blue eyes piercing into Rai’s, the doctor told him, “Consider all the clues. It’s all there. You know this, Rookie.” Rai unclenched his hand to bite at a fingertip as he muttered the symptoms before exclaiming, “It’s a hemothorax!” thoughts coming to focus as the answer came to him. “Precisely. A blood vessel ruptured and is filling her pleural cavity…” the doctor started and Rai continued, “...blocking her lungs expanding! Hence the failure!” Then another thought popped in, “But since there’s no time to repair the vessel, that means…” Rai trailed off.

“We’ll have to do an emergency thoracotomy to drain the cavity instead. Nurse!” the attending called. To Rai’s shock, he finds himself handed a test tube and socket while the attending lift’s the patient’s shirt to expose the side of her ribcage. Blood roaring in his ears as he gripped at the scalpel, Rai gulped as he muttered, “No time for anesthesia… have to make the incision at the fifth intercostal space… anterior… to the mid… damn it, get a grip Hayashi!” growling at his trembling hand holding the scalpel.

He jolted when felt the doctor steady his hand with his and their eyes met once more as the doctor told him, “Hey… You can do this.” Gripping onto those words, Rai took a breath before steadying his hand and carefully making the incision. He faintly heard the doctor’s encouragement before following the instruction to insert the tube.

The moment the patient gasped for breath, Rai felt all remaining tenseness leave him before nodding to the doctor in silent thanks. As the doctor gave orders for the patient to be taken to surgery and the onlookers applauded, Rai released a heavy breath. He carefully rubbed his hands and with a breathless laugh, he said to the doctor, “Uh… well, that was… pretty amazing” barely believing that he barely started a shift and he managed to help save a patient. Calm as can be, the doctor retorted, “You’re right. it’s pretty amazing you didn’t get her killed’, his words causing Rai’s smile to freeze. Seeing the other lost for words, the doctor ruthlessly continued, “Your examination was slow and superficial. Your scalpel technique amateur at best…”

Before he could stop himself, Rai jokes, “In that case, maybe you should give me some private lessons” and the moment he did, his mind screeched, “(YOU FECKIN IDIOT!!!)” while alarms blared. Of all reactions, Rai did not expect the doctor to be amused, “Ha! I just might, Doctor…” he said, lifting Rai’s lanyard to read his ID, “Hayashi. But I sincerely doubt you could afford my salary” before tossing it back and walking away.

It was one thing to suddenly have his ID grabbed, but hearing his last name be pronounced right left him more than a little breathless. He quickly took a breath to reel himself in before ruffling his head and groaning, “… Please tell me I didn’t just make a total fool of myself in front of a top doctor” a whimper tinting his words towards the end.

The same male nurse from earlier walked over and patted his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, Dr. Ramsey is like that with everyone.” Hearing the doctor’s name, Rai’s brain conjured the Looney Tunes ending theme, replacing the ending catchphrase with “You’re Screwed!” as he buried his face in his hands. “Greaaat, so not only do I mess up my first impression with an attending, I made a fool of myself in front of my medical hero of all people” he bemoaned. Clearly trying to cheer him up, the nurse chimed, “On the bright side, you’ll get plenty more chances to impress him” and Rai smiled in thanks. Once he learned the nurse’s name was Danny and introductions were made, Rai looked down to see his scrubs had been stained with blood and sighed.

Asking for directions to the locker room, he thanked Danny as he was led the way. Once inside, Rai searched for his locker, only to come face to face with a beautiful woman with dark skin and black hair in her underwear. Quickly turning about-face, Rai shut his eyes, “Sorry about that, do you need some privacy?” he asked. The woman seemed amused at his reaction, “How’d you make it through medical school without seeing a bra?” she asked and Rai shrugged. He turned to move away and reply only to bump into a muscular male; “Go easy on him, Jackie. It’s the first day for all of us” Rai heard him say.

The woman, now identified as Jackie retorted, “Hey, I can be friendly… if you stay out of my way.” Rai couldn’t help but snort at that before piping, “To answer your question, I got away by being respectful, my parents didn’t raise no creep” rocking on his heels.

The shirtless male barked a laugh, “We got ourselves a smart one here then” he joked before extending a hand with a playful wink. “Bryce Lahela, a.k.a. your new favorite surgical intern. Pleasure’s all mine” he introduced only for Jackie to snark, “Ignore the meathead, he’s a scalpel jockey.” Rai accepted Bryce’s hand with a grin, “Rai Hayashi. Internal medicine, nice to meet you!” Jackie nodded at that, “Guess you’re with me then. C’mon, we’re gonna be late” she said before slipping into her scrubs.

Going from his first impression, Rai thought it was best to be quick and follow after. It didn’t take long for the trio to reach the main atrium where the rest of the interns were listening to an impressive, statuesque woman up front. From the sound of things, she was already in the middle of orientation. Peering at the woman’s face, Rai tried to place her face before perking. He leaned towards Bryce and whispered, “Isn’t that Harper Emery? I thought she was with the surgical team?”

Jackie gave a smirk as she overheard, “You’re a little late on the news there Hayashi, she’s the hospital’s new chief.” Rai nodded in acknowledgement before listening to the rest of the speech. As she ended her speech and the interns burst in applause, Rai joined in and grinned at his fellow colleagues only to catch something, or rather someone in the crowd.

Out of all the interns, there was a young woman who was not clapping with the rest. Frankly, she looked rather unimpressed with everything. Before Rai could think further on it, he hears Dr. Emery announce that they would be meeting their senior residents tomorrow and for today, they would be partnering up for their first patient and that assignments were on the board.

Waving goodbye and wishing Bryce good luck as he left to join his group, Rai moved to peer at the board. Once he found his and his partner’s name, he tilted his head, “Huh, I’m partnered with… A. Emery?” he mused out loud. An intern with curly hair exclaimed, “Like, Chief of Medicine Dr. Emery?!” and Rai turned to him. “It says A. Emery, so I’m sure it meant a relative, unless Emery somehow became a common last name without anyone knowing” Rai joked and a loud snort was heard followed by an, “I wish.” Everyone turns to the source and it’s revealed to be the unimpressed intern that Rai saw earlier.

He walked up to her with a smile and held out his hand, “Hi! A. Emery right? I’m Rai Hayashi, it looks like we’ll be partners for this assignment. Are you alright with me calling you Dr. Emery or something else? I mean, if you want,; it’s tough that people pile on expectation when it comes to certain last names. Oh wait, I didn’t even get your first name, my bad” he babbled, though still maintained his bright smile. For a moment, the female intern looked surprised before her expression turned cool and she shook his hand, “Dr. Aurora Emery, Dr. Emery is fine. Anyone tell you that you talk… a lot?” she said and Rai gave a chuckle. “My bad, I was just excited to work my first assignment, let’s go?” he offered and Aurora gave a curt nod; the two breezed past the crowd before anything else could be said.

On the way to their patient, the two managed to have an amicable agreement on their partnership for the assignment. Though he had read the chart, Rai still felt a pang as they entered the room and saw the young patient named Annie. Still, he managed to push through with Aurora taking her vitals while he made the patient more comfortable and asked more on what happened before they ended up in the hospital.

After leaving Annie with further reassurances and taking note of her symptoms and other unrecorded injuries. Just as they were discussing submitting their findings for lab work, Aurora was paged by her aunt. Rai gave a wince upon hearing the announcement from the P.A System, “Go ahead. I’ll handle things and keep you updated. Good luck” he encouraged.

Aurora peered at him for a moment, as if she was trying to figure him out before she nodded and left. After making the submission, Rai found himself busy with other patients. By the time he managed to have a minute to himself, Rai was close to just squatting on the floor to rest. Just as he was about to do just that, a nurse came up to him with the results.

Looking them over and noting the uncommon strain of bacteria, he advised for some antibiotics and some observation on the effects before thanking the nurse for their work. With that done, Rai took a moment to breath before heading off to continue his rounds. Only, he realized later, in his attempt to head back to Annie’s room, he had somehow gotten himself lost.

He looked around to see if there was anything familiar, but as he turned around, he ended up bumping into another intern who dropped the textbook they were reading. “Sorry!” Rai exclaimed before bending down to pick up the fallen book and held it out. The intern waved his apologies, giving his own apologies before introducing himself as Landry Olsen. When he was handing the book back, Rai saw a peek of the cover, “Oh hey! ‘Diagnostic Principles by Ethan Ramsey’, you a fan?” he asked. Landry grinned, “Yeah, I totally worship the guy. Shrine in my basement and everything” he said before immediately stating, “Kidding! I’m kidding. I never know it’s clear when I’m joking,” his words caused something to itch at the back of Rai’s head but he ignored it.

“Well, here’s hoping you give a better first impression than I did,” Rai offered and Landry gave a gasp of recognition. Apparently, the whole incident from the morning had already made his rounds. Landry was gushing on how lucky Rai was and how he wished he hadn’t been early to work, wishing he had the chance to meet Dr. Ramsey. Quite honestly, Rai had been trying to not cringe into a ball as he listened to Landry’s words. When the other trailed off and seemed to stare in shock at something, Rai followed his line of sight and saw the very man being talked about at the end of the hall.

“(Whelp, time to find the nearest window and yeet myself then)”

#open heart #m!mc #ethan ramsey #m!mc x ethan ramsey #an attempt was made #no beta #formatting is a challenge #carrisa writes #fanfic #oh fic

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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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yuthoe · 4 years

Note

aaa okay so looked at the rules and could you do their idol crush admitting that they’re their type but with yuto, wooseok and kino? 🥺

HELLO, I FINALLY DID IT, SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT.It’s almost 4AM here and I wanted to get this out in case I become unproductive again when I wake up. I was halfway through Kino’s part when I realized the reader should be gender-neutral, oops. It’s too late for me to edit it again right now, so it’s gonna stay like that. I’ll take care next time, tho.

WARNINGS: none. WORD COUNT: 842, 971, 632.

—

Yuto

“Yuto-ya,” Hui called from his spot on his tiny couch in Yuto’s studio. It’s one of his rare days-off, but he isn’t in the mood to go into the city, and staying in the dorm is too boring since everyone else is busy with their other stuff. So he just decided to tag along with Yuto to his studio and listen to him make some songs. He might even sneak in a nap or two since he hasn’t been sleeping well later—but all thoughts of sleep fly out the window as soon as he sees on his phone a newly uploaded video starring you, known in Pentagon as Yuto’s crush. “Yuto-ya, come here!” he says, tossing the stuffed teddy bear at the boy sitting by the computers.

The toy hits Yuto square in the head and he jumps, turning the seat around in confusion. “What is it, hyung?”

Hui turns the phone so the screen is visible to Yuto. “Isn’t this Y/N?”

A quick glance and, yes, it’s you. Yuto likes to think he can find you in a crowd, no matter how many hairstyle changes you gave or how much you try to blend in with your clothes, but that just comes off kind of creepy. He has watched a lot of your interviews; and you have a lot of them, being a big figure in a famous idol group. He’s just so captivated by your range, your stage presence… It just gets him breathless whenever he sees you perform.

Your group is in the middle of a comeback right now, and Yuto has been religiously keeping up with any promotional material for your group that’s been coming up, but he’s just been super focused on his music today that the only thing that shocked him out of the haze was the teddy bear thrown at his head. Yuto stares at the tiny phone screen for a second longer before getting off the office chair and squishing beside Hui on the couch that isn’t really made for someone of his size.

The video continues playing as his leader turns up the volume. Your group is sat on swivel bar chairs in a white studio set. Gosh, you look radiant, as always. The pleasantries are over and the topic has gone to the announcement your company made about being able to date openly. Yuto isn’t lying that there was a tiny spark of hope that lit up inside him when he first heard of the news. But of course, that was just wishful thinking, since he doesn’t think you actually know him anyway. Sure, you may have heard of Pentagon the group, but there isn’t as big a chance of you taking an interest in him.

Being seated on the farthest chair from the hosts, your answer is saved for last. The other members of your group dodged the question by saying they weren’t really looking to date anyone or dropping names like J.Seph from KARD or Vernon from Seventeen being their ideal type of guy. You take a second or two more to think about your answer and say, “I’d like to get to know Yuto from Pentagon more.”

“Oooohhh,” the hosts exclaim. “He’s one of the rappers isn’t he?” one of them asks.

“Yes,” you say politely, smiling. Yuto isn’t sure if you’re actually red in the face or if that’s just the blush on your cheeks. “I really like the flow of his raps, and his voice is really nice.”

“Ahh, so you’re saying you like tall guys, yes?” the other host teases.

You laugh, slightly embarrassed. “I guess? I don’t really have a type, but Yuto was the first person to pop into my head who I am really interested in and would like to get to know.”

The hosts nod in approval, and your group members seated around you slap you playfully for admitting something like that.

Hui releases a high-pitched siren sound and playfully slaps Yuto playfully on the arm with his free hand. “Do you hear that, Yuto? Seems they like you, too. I wonder if we can go to one of their recordings for this comeback, hmm… Or maybe if our comebacks coincide you can talk to them then, huh?...” Hui continues to rattle off possibilities of Yuto getting into contact with you.

Meanwhile Yuto is still staring at the screen, frozen. The video continues to play, but he isn’t registering anything. Did you really just say, out loud, with a mic on, that you want to get to know him more? Like, he isn’t hallucinating that? Those words really came out of your mouth?

His chest is tight. It burns, but it’s also light. Yuto can’t put into words the feeling. Your sentiments are intangible, and there weren’t even any promises of actually going through with meeting up or exchanging numbers…

But it made him giddy. Indescribably happy.

He lets slip the tiniest of smiles as he continues watching the video and Hui mutters to himself about possible get-togethers with your groups.

Kino

It’s been a habit of Kino lately to listen to podcasts when he gets back to the dorm, as a way to unwind after a busy day. Not because he listens to them (although he does find time to listen and pay attention some other time), but the sound of amicable voices in the sometimes empty dorm is a comforting presence.

One of the podcasts he’s been listening to lately is called Ladies’ Room. His sister told him to listen to one of the episodes, and he found the discussions fun and educational, so he decided to just follow it and he’s updated with the latest one. So when a notification pops up on his phone about a new episode with a special guest, he immediately blasted it on his Bluetooth speaker.

“Hey, guys! This is Soo Ri and you’re listening to Ladies’ Room,” the host’s voice, like a droplet of water falling into a crystal clear puddle, slithers out from the speaker. “Today, we’re talking about love and relationships with a very special guest… idol-slash-actor-slash model, Y/N!”

“Hello, everybody!” you say, in a sweet cadence like a breeze rustling windchimes.

Kino almost drops the container of microwavable tteokkbokki he’s holding and looks at his phone, scandalized, as if it personally offended him. Obviously, it wouldn’t be a stretch for you to guest in podcasts, and even less of a stretch for you to guest-host this particular podcast, but Kino is still surprised. He can’t deny that it feels nice to know that he found you so unexpectedly.

Kino can’t remember when he started taking an interest on you. There was just one time when everytime he turned on the TV he would see your face—in a commercial, a variety show, a drama, that he finally decided to check you out. And from the first music video he clicked, he was hooked on you. Your way with words, your voice, your personality all just made him really want to know you more.

He doesn’t call it a crush, although to Yuto and Wooseok, the only two other people who know about his fanaticism, it comes off that way in droves. He shakes his head and finally unfreezes, putting the tteokbokki in the microwave to heat up. His ears automatically pick up the conversation.

“I know you must be really annoyed and fed up by questions like these, since I watch a lot of your interviews and the hosts ask about it a lot,” Soo Ri begins. “But what’s your stance on ideal types—like your ideal guy, or girl—and do you have one yourself?”

“Aahh, yeah, I do get questions like that sometimes, but they’re in different contexts, so I don’t really mind them.” Kino thinks that’s a polite answer and mentally claps. He hears you take a deep breath before saying, “I don’t think having an ideal type is realistic, though. I mean, that’s what ‘ideal’ means: it’s your idea of perfection, the best. I guess it could be like a blueprint for what you want in a partner, but I don’t think it’s possible for you to be able to tick off all those boxes.”

“Oh, yeah, I get what you’re saying. That’s a really good point.”

“As for my ideal type…” You hum, seeming deep in thought, but not enough to cause dead air. “It’s not really an ‘ideal’ type,” Kino can almost hear the air quotation marks when you said the word and it makes him smile, “but Kino from Pentagon has a lot of the qualities I like in someone.”

By now, Kino had taken his food from the microwave and taken a bite. He freezes with a mouth stuffed with tteokbokki. The spicy soup stinging his lips assures him that he is definitely awake and definitely not dreaming. Did she just—?

“Yeah,” he hears, desperately trying to tune back into the conversation. “He has a very bubbly and fun personality. He’s humble and loves his members and his fans. He’s also very good at what he does—I’ve listened to some of his stuff on SoundCloud, and they’re really good,” you say, and Kino thinks he should probably start chewing before he chokes on the rice cakes. “I mean, his dancing is excellent, his voice is so nice, and he’s also super cute.”

At this, you and Soo Ri both laugh conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret only between you two, as if this podcast isn’t going to be uploaded somewhere anyone who has access to the Internet can listen to, somewhere Kino can access at a moment’s notice.

Kino’s sure his face is as red as the tteokbokki soup right now. Literally no one can see because he’s the only one in the kitchen, but his face is on fire. He continues chewing and stuffing the rice cake strips into his mouth as he spirals into a crisis. His idol crush actually likes him back? He doesn’t think you actually like him, but you did say that there’s some aspects of him you like. That’s kind of similar, right? Right?

The whine comes out garbled from his full mouth. On one hand, he feels way lighter, bouncier, more energetic at knowing that the idol he likes knows about his existence and that she actually likes things about him and openly talked about it on a podcast, oh my goodness is this really real, like no one is messing with me right now?

So Kino sits there, lost in thought as he continues spearing food with his chopsticks, thinking. About how to reach you, maybe get your number, maybe propose a tiny collaboration? Maybe? About how he’s going to act in front of you in the off-chance that you do meet, as you and Soo Ri continue chatting in the background.

Wooseok

He can’t help stealing glances at you—you look really good in this comeback, and it takes everything for Wooseok to not be too conspicuous and focus on the interview that coincidentally has Pentagon and your group as guests. He’d like to think it’s a dream, but really, it feels more like a nightmare because he’s seated right next to you and his members literally won’t stop looking back and giving him mischievous smiles, or turning their chairs towards your group and making small talk, trying to drag him into the conversation and he feels like a fool because he seems incapable of replying with more than two-syllable words.

And it somehow gets worse during the segments. Not that the hosts are bad—they’re really good hosts. It’s just that there’s a segment where they read selected fan mail, so they would all have to answer it because they don’t really want to disappoint the fans by deflecting. The first few were harmless: what food they like eating during summer, if you were an animal what would you be? But then it went from zero to 100 real quick as the third question is read by your group’s leader, “Which idol is your ideal type?”

Everyone can’t help but make exclamations, oohs and ahs as they think of an appropriate answer. The hosts are gracious and give everyone ten seconds or so to come up with their answers before coaxing out some people’s. Eventually the line snaked to you and you timidly replied, “Wooseok-sunbae,” while avoiding his eyes.

If Wooseok could see himself in a mirror, he would see his eyes bug out and threatening to pop from their sockets, mouth desperately pursing to prevent the huge smile forming on his face. He doesn’t know how to react—what should he do, Cube didn’t train them for this. He needs help and Shinwon keeps slapping his thigh and arm like that isn’t the most obvious thing to do when they’re being filmed.

He can tell you’re embarrassed. You’re facing the hosts, your back to Wooseok, though he’s assuming your face is super red right now, and it’s not because of the blush. He kind of just wants this to be over so you can have a reprieve, but the hosts (being hosts), ask you to elaborate.

“Um, he’s a really great rapper, and he seems really caring,” you say softly. “I watched a program with him once taking care of his cats, and I thought it was really cute.” Wooseok recalls that show and his chest loosens slightly at the mention of it, touched that you remember that tiny segment he did. He really loves his cat, and he’s not gonna admit it, but he likes that your takeaway from the program is that he looks cute playing with tiny animals.

“Ooh, yes, we love guys who are nice to animals,” one of the hosts says, and turns directly to Wooseok. “Wooseok-sshi, since she mentioned you, we’ll leave you for last, okay? So we can properly build up the hype for the viewers back at home.” The boy nods; at least this gives him time to think of nice things to say to you amidst the flurry of thoughts running through his head at the moment.

He imagines talking to you after filming is over and exchanging numbers. He imagines hanging out with you if you have any free time. He imagines maybe doing a small collaboration with you, wishes it were possible. The images he conjures up make him smile, even if he is still kind of embarrassed—he was never one of the cucumber-cool members of the group—but he decides that since you threw yourself off the boat, he might as well throw himself off and join you.

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alleiradayne · 5 years

Photo

There’s Something Strange A Reader/Sam Winchester Series

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part VII - The Aftermath

Summary: The next morning... Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, mentions of sexual topics Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 1,718 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me.

The crisp fall breeze cooled her cheeks as Y/N slipped through the front door of Hill Manor, eager to be on her way. With the sun barely above the trees, she had decided to leave then rather than face Sam. She couldn’t bare the thought of disappointing him. She had seen that look on his face before and had vowed to never see it again. Better to remember him smiling in the bar the night before.

“We can keep my involvement out of the story when we talk to the cops, right?”

Dean laughed as he said, “Sure, Y/N. We’ll keep it short.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“No, sweetheart,” he interjected. “Thank you. Right, Sam?”

Sam hefted his glass in salute. “Thank you.”

A shiver ran up her spine at the memory of Sam’s gaze consuming her over the rim of his glass as they drank to her success. Damn him. The point of her trip was not to find a lover. Inspiration for a book. That was it. And she had that in spades. No need to hang about.

Her suitcase thumped on the brick path at the bottom of the steps, and she paused, heart and mind in conflict. A deep breath filled her lungs as she turned around to soak in the essence of the mansion one last time. But instead of the house, she only saw Sam Winchester standing in the arch of the covered porch, staring at her.

“We never got a chance to talk,” he said as he started down the steps.

By no fault of hers. Between guests and police, Sam and Dean had been busy the rest of the night. True to Dean’s word, they had kept her involvement out of the story. And when the police had interviewed her, she claimed to have slept through it all, exhausted from a long day of writing. The officer had recognized her then, and in a complete dereliction of duty, asked for her autograph. Y/N had gladly given it, but then returned to her room for some much-needed sleep.

Except sleeping had only allowed her to process her thoughts, her feelings. Doubt replaced anything she thought she had felt for Sam. And given the near-death experience, she figured it best to leave as early as possible.

Too bad for her, it seemed Sam awoke with the sun as well.

“I’m leaving,” she stated.

“I see that,” Sam said as he looked to her suitcase and started down the stairs. “I made a promise.”

“Yeah, and you didn't keep it,” she retorted. “I had to save everyone.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so angry, so spiteful. Crestfallen, Sam stopped at the bottom of the steps beside her and held out his hand. “I know. I'm sorry.”

No excuses. No reasons. No spin. A genuine apology. She placed her hand in his. “While I appreciate the apology, you shouldn’t need to.”

“You shouldn't have been there,” he said as he pulled her close.

“You would be dead,” she replied.

“True,” Sam agreed. “So, even though we all nearly died, I'm glad you were with us. We made a good team. You did great. I don't know if I'd have thought to destroy the pen.”

Heat crept up her neck and her cheeks stung as she reached for her back pocket. From it she withdrew the black pen, its gold and green veins glimmering in the fall sun.

Sam's eyes damn near popped out of his head. “What did you do, Y/N!?!”

She withdrew the cap and scribbled on her palm. “It's just a pen, now.”

“But what about the one you torched?” he asked. “How did that kill the poltergeist?”

She replaced the cap and jammed the pen back into her pocket. “I took the twin from the inkwell base with me to the ballroom after reading up on liches and poltergeists.”

She wished she could confuse Sam more often just so she could see his furrowed brow and pursed lips. Y/N could hear the gears churning in his head as he said, “Keep talking.”

“Hillstead thought she was a lich. She thought her spell to splice half of her soul into the pen had worked,” she explained. “That’s why she took off every time I threatened to destroy it. But when we tried to trap her back in it,” she paused as she relived moment, “she remembered what living in that pen was like. Drove her mad, all those years alone inside a tiny, dark space. But she had no idea she had become a poltergeist. She had no idea she had killed herself trying to create a phylactery.”

Sam’s face softened as understanding blossomed in his eyes. “She thought you destroyed the other half of her soul,” he said. “And so, when you destroyed the twin, she…”

“Moved on,” Y/N said. “I think. She believed her 'phylactery' had been destroyed, so she believed she was 'dead’ and moved on. Into the light. I hope. Poor girl suffered for a century and a half, alone. In a pen.”

For too long, Sam stared at her and searched her gaze with is own wide eyes. Under such scrutiny, she shivered, but she dared not look away.

“You’re brilliant,” he said under his breath as he pulled her closer. “The way you think… I'm gonna miss the hell out of you.”

Dammit. He would make it difficult. With his hair, and puppy dog eyes, and tender touches, Y/N knew she would regret waking away. But did she want that life? Wedge herself into his and document everything he and his brother did?

“I'll miss you too, Sam,” she sighed. “Next time I stay in a haunted mansion… well, I think I’ll take care of things just fine.”

The red in his eyes stung her own as Y/N turned on her heel and walked away. It was the right thing to do, the best thing. She wasn't a hunter. She was a writer. She'd almost died on her one and only hunt. There was no way she would survive that lifestyle.

At her car, she tossed her suitcase into the trunk, and slammed the lid shut like a finished book. A sort of finality settled in her gut, not quite satisfied with her decision, but accepting it, nonetheless. And though she would miss him, Y/N knew Sam would get over her in a few days. Besides, she had all the material for her book, and that had been her goal for the trip. Not upending her entire life to live with some—

“Y/N!”

She froze in the door of her car, one foot in and the other on the ground. Against her every instinct, Y/N turned over her shoulder and saw Sam running down the path to the drive. He plodded to a halt before her, and as she stepped from the car, he grasped her by the shoulders and hauled her into him.

When his lips landed on hers, her heart leaped into her throat. Their prior trysts compared so little to that connection, to his insistent hands at the small of her back, holding her so tight, and his desperate tongue plying hers. And dear Lord, what strength. Power rippled beneath his coat, restrained despite his palpable need. All of him inundated her senses, his spearmint toothpaste, musty books, three-day scruff, and the quietest of sighs all tearing down her walls, and Y/N melted into him.

Between breaths and fervent kisses Sam clamored for more, gripping and pulling and tugging as though he could never have her close enough. “I don't want you to leave,” he mumbled against her lips.

She pulled back from him and held him at arm’s length as she looked him directly in the eye. “I don’t want to go either. But I can’t be a hunter. I’m not a hunter.”

He pointed at the house. “That, last night? That’s what being a hunter is all about,” he stated. “Pulling a win out of your ass when a thing has you dead to rights. It’s the Winchester way. We don’t know anything else.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to the questions spiraling through her head, so instead of asking how they had survived all their years, she, once again, logged that away on her ever-growing list. “I still think I got lucky.”

“You did,” Sam agreed. “I’d rather be lucky than dead. Besides, you don’t have to hunt. You could… travel with us?”

Inspiration. “I could use your hunts as material for my books?”

Disgust contorted Sam’s pretty face. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Do not put us in your books.”

His tone had turned so gravely serious in a single second, Y/N knew there had to be a story behind that demand. Her brow knotted as she cocked her head to the side. “Alright,” she said. “But this is… terrifying. I’m uprooting my entire life for you.”

“I know,” he said as he hugged her again, and Y/N, powerless in his presence, submitted to his embrace. “I know this is sudden. I'm not one to rush into things. But I would regret it for the rest of my life if we didn't at least try.”

Regret.

Y/N pulled back once more. “Rather to have loved and lost?”

His smile shined brighter than the sun. “Than never to have loved at all.”

She pushed to the tips of her boots and pressed a kiss to his lips so quick, Sam only just caught her. “If we keep,” he paused to kiss her again. “… doing this…” another kiss, “… I’m going to throw you…” a gasp, “… in the backseat of your car,” a moan, “and tear those leggings to shreds.”

“Oh, so the gentleman is a deviant after all!” she said with a laugh against his lips. “And here I thought the butt plugs were just a joke to creep your brother out,” she teased, but her banter faltered when Sam grasped her by the ass and hauled her into his arms.

“Honey, you don’t know the half of it,” he growled. “But if you come with me, I’d be more than happy to show you.”

His smile against her lips warmed her like the rays of the perfect fall sun breaking through the clouds.

“Take me home, Sam.”

If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO MASTERLIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @seenashwrite @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27 @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons @karouwinchester

There’s Something Strange:

@peridottea91 @amanda-teaches

#alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic #spnfluffbingo #spnfluffbingo2019 #reader/sam winchester

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haila-wetyios · 5 years

Text

Raiding

Since it became a pretty long post, Imma just throw this under a Read More. It’s not about current tumblr drama fashion. So no popcorn scene for you peeps. Just my experience as a whole and to finally let go of a few feelings that kept weighting on me for a good while until my current team took me in.

The first time I ever advertised on a PF that I was seeking a raid team, was during the final months of ARR. I was a complete scaredy cat, anxious of whether I'd be good enough to work on a team that required more coordination than pugs to get things such as extreme primals or savage raids done. Off I go as a SMN main, panicked as my raid leader of that team joined my party for a brief interview. Afterwards though, during our first joint team efforts for HW content (Ravanna and Bismark extreme at that time) I discovered that I wasn't as bad as I thought. On the contrary, I was too perceptive of everything to the point I would rush to do mechanics assigned to our newbie healer who after several explanations would still not do the thing. Despite my huge insecurities of probably not doing the relevant rotations down to the last skill, my ego started to rise a bit when parsers started to take more and more of conversations between static members. And although I would never ask about my numbers directly, I would celebrate in silence when reading the overall party dps the moment I realized mine had been at the top even with a ninja and a dragoon in the party. That should have been a flag to me now that I look back for being a caster that was doing more damage than the melee. But I didn't know any better, and stayed with my group regardless throughout the entirety of gordias savage. Every week would be the same pummeling against the horrifying Faust dps check, then the first turn's boss, then the second turn until we finally hit the wall of jigglyman and disbanded. I didn't have much complains, despite how tiring it was, I had long since given up on those clears and instead turned each night into 'training to see how long I can last the moment shit hits the fan in any given fight'. And boy did I get a ton of experience down that lane.

The next times I started looking into content once more, I could only play the part of a sub for any group of people I trusted due to life and time issues. But I still took pride in being that one stable sub that could support any group on any extreme primal through HW. I still lament that I was never able to go through Midas and Alexander savage when they were relevant and merely watched from the sidelines.

Then SB came up, and I merely stood aside once more for the first Tier with Exdeath. Except this time, the frustrations of not having been there while I watched all my friends start doing EX's and savage content had finally gotten to me. And lo' and behold, suddenly I was back on square 1, trembling in fear while waiting on my PF announcement that I was looking for a group for Sigma (Kefka times). Nearly died the moment I had two people with interesting names join in my party and just grab me on the spot. I had no idea what I was getting into, they mentioned they just needed a caster slot for the new rag tag group they had built, but at least I had a team! Then the first day of raid came up, and right off the bat I was terrified at the fact that our raid leader was missing, being replaced just for that moment with the FC leader instead. Turns out my entire group save for the ninja, were a raiding FC with multiple groups going in through the week. And what was the first comment of the night pray tell? Well "No one should be here with X ilvl gear." Who was it aimed at? Well, to the only potato that for the first time was slightly outdated in 2 pieces of gear for not being active before the patch dropped. That was the moment that marked my spiraling down a rabbit hole that I wish I could let go of easily but still has a tight grip on me to this day.

I felt like crap, I fought my best and did research on how to be a better caster. Other than the FC leader's comment, no one berated me or spoke about me on a negative light. But it still left a mark in which I kept trying to prove myself and be useful. Suddenly I would find myself cursing at my skills. Hating how no matter how hard I tried with everything, I would never be able to even pass the goddamned Stone, Sky and Sea for savage raids. But we were still getting things done. Two new savage turns down in a single week of release? That felt incredible and also bittersweet. Because any time that my party members celebrated their purples and golds in fflogs, I would be in a corner, self destructing with greys. I kept trying and trying, until my coping mechanism ended up being "I'm just a fill in. But if I'm just this, I'm damn going to do a job stable enough to have a place here." Then things started turning out easier to deal with. I had noticed the goofiness of a lot of the members despite the numbers that dictated their runs, I gave up on my grey numbers and focused on getting their asses up if someone made a mistake. To support the healers as much as possible with mana shift and such. I started putting my experience of keeping the party alive to more use while I slowly tried to recover the confidence I had lost when starting the tier. Granted, they didn't care for the group as much as I did. No amount of hanging out after raid times or helping was enough for the few in charge to announce when we were done raiding after months of being together. They just stopped one day until their FC leader asked me if I was aware of the 'disbanding'.

Then it was time to switch gears, for the first time I thought my work had bore fruit when I was recruited into the FC leader's group instead, and all was well.... Until it wasn't, we kept having to replace members left and right, specially healers and tanks. Progress was slow, sometimes we’d clear Chaos and Midgarsormr, and others it would be a mess depending on the random team comp we had for the week. Things should have been better by the time we made it to Omega, half the party had cleared with their mains after all. Except that it was the point where everything went south in the background.

We had gained a good White Mage, who would complain about random jibber jabber every now and then, but that was fine, no biggie. Then they brought in their former co-healer from their previous static, a Scholar, and all was supposed to be fine. But then something happened that slowly started to wear us all out. For some reason, we suddenly were struggling some more with Midgarsormr, and then Omega.... Boy, even if we had previously cleared, suddenly the three days with 3 hours of raid time each went on on that goddamned turn, and then the final 15 min would go for Omega Male and Female and the reason was hard to tell at first, we were doing the same old after all. It wasn’t until nearly a month of wiping that probably the group had started to realize what was wrong. Our Scholar wasn’t exactly pulling his full weight.

This is what caused probably something that I should have seen coming and that stuck with me for a long while until now that I found this draft I worked on when the wound became fresh again from just thinking about it. It’s just frustrating, sad to a degree and I brought part of it on myself for trying so hard to be useful to no one. What happened? Well, the leader didn’t want to get involved into any drama by only kicking the Scholar because they were friends with the White Mage, so a disbanding was supposed to be the better way to end things. Except the leader decided to do it in a different and up to date still a very shitty fashion.

Right after we’d finished the last raiding night for the week, he posted an announcement about how people, aka his FC members were tired of constantly bashing their heads against Omega with little success and so they were gonna reform. By kicking the only outsiders of the static team. The White Mage, the Scholar, and me. There was no further explanation, no messages to me, nothing. I was just tossed like that after +6 months of knowing this FC and having raided and hung out with a good chunk of their members. I’d sacrificed so much for them. My time, my confidence to a degree, I had been a slave to their parsers more than a few occasions each time I heard them celebrating or complaining about their numbers. All because I wanted to feel like I could stand on the same levels as them. And I did to a good degree. I reached a point where I knew that my abilities weren’t as bad as the greys on my numbers showed me. But it meant nothing to any of them in the end. No message from the leader that up to that point had kept communication with me for raid times and other stuff. No reaction from the peeps I’d raided the most with.

The most ironic part that I still respect? The only person to apologize, the only one that actually took the time to send me a message after the whole group ‘disbanded’ was the dragoon that I had only ever heard speak about their golden parses and nothing else on discord. We hadn’t even talked up until then. But he still cared more than the people that had known me for longer in that group. Granted, I did get to throw at least a cent in the raid channel about what I thought before getting kicked, so he probably wanted to come out clean on that.

I am glad to no avail that I will never have to see them again, because the server splits sent them to a different data center. But it still left a deep mark on me when it came to XIV. I stopped logging in to do any content for a while, focused more on screenshots, on shady flower lady times until I could learn to love the game again. It probably took longer than I would have liked because all of this happened at the exact time that my friends from my crew had dived into raiding at a deeper level. I got to see them celebrate clearing the final omega. Then server transferring to be with their static before the great split or quitting. And then with Shadowbringers hearing “We’re not looking for a dps caster slot.” Each time anyone needed a fill in for their group.

All this left me at an odd spot, being the veteran that keeps up groups or dungeons on normal modes, but having a hard time trying to get back into my niches in the game. My way of getting through raid had been to think of myself as being replaceable or worthless, but still trying to keep my hope that I’m actually valuable. Getting through all of it alone is not the solution now that I can let go of that bitterness of not being appreciated even as a person. I just happened to get a random chance to try out filling in for a group for a friend. But it wasn’t that what helped me the most both to be back on raids and to have finally built back my confidence. They probably didn’t think that I would check, but I’m the curious kind. Specially when you join a discord that has brief mentions of you on the recent chat. And seeing them mention me, and then vouching over my skills as a player, and how I was their first friend in the server? Well, despite having trouble expressing any feelings myself most of the time, when I get to think of it, you have no idea how much it meant to me.

I managed to get back on what I like and enjoy most of what I do after deciding to take another leap of faith and join this group despite my stigma. Granted, mentions of parses and all will always be there. But not letting them define you, and believing in what you can and can’t do in content, I think is the best choice you can make to have a healthy experience and enjoy yourself as much as possible.

#personal #FFXIV #Raiding can be fun or leave a bad mark on you depending on how you go about it #long post #When I first wrote this it looked more like a rant so off it went to drafts #But its really just my experience overall now that I re read it and added two more cents in it

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littlelovelyspiderling · 6 years

Text

Cranky Cassie

Peter is upset about a bad test grade. Tony hosts an Avengers movie night to try to cheer him up. It does not go as planned.

I combined the prompts suggested by @kallani-ex-machina and @wigglingpandaboi into one story because I’m lazy! enjoy!

word count: 2,764

Peter Parker was a failure.

At least, that’s how he saw it. Stark couldn’t remember a time the kid looked more dejected than he did today. The day Brooklyn 99 was cancelled came in a close second, but that disaster was resolved in a matter of hours.

Peter had done really bad on a test. Something to do with ancient Roman history. He’d forgotten it was today, and hadn’t studied at all beforehand. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late. That was the gist Tony had gathered before the kid stomped off in silence, isolating himself to the table in the corner behind a mound of books and papers. Stark assumed maintaining your schoolwork was hard when you were also trying to carry all of New York City on your shoulders.

Two hours later, and the kid still hadn’t budged. When Tony inquired what he was up to, Peter sighed without lifting his gaze.

“Extra credit assignment. It won’t save my massacred GPA, but I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“You know you don’t have to do this all tonight, kid. It’s Friday.”

Peter simply shrugged and kept working. Stark was certain he was punishing himself. The kid was his own worst critic.

“One bad grade isn’t gonna tank your whole high school career, Pete. I promise you. You’re a brilliant kid. You’ll do great on the next one, and everything will turn out fine. All right?”

Peter seemed to be tuning him out. His whole body was tense with concentration. Tony frowned, feeling unfit to deal with this sort of thing, and laid his hand on his shoulder.

“You want to take a quick break?” he asked. Peter shook his head. Stark let a breath ease from his lungs, then patted his back defeatedly. “Well, let me know if you need anything, okay? I got juice boxes, whipped cream, coffee, vodka—all the goodies. You know, brain food.”

The kid didn’t even crack a smile at his corny attempt at humor. Even on his grumpiest days, which were few and far between, Peter would at least acknowledge Stark’s attempts to cheer him up. But today, nothing. This was a whole new side of Peter that Tony had never encountered before. If he was going to succeed in lifting the kid’s spirits at all, he was going to need some help.

So with a few short texts to the Avengers group chat and a couple of phone calls to those less responsive, Tony got a solid chunk of the team to agree to come over and try brightening Spidey’s mood under the guise of partaking in a casual team-bonding movie night. If there was one thing all the Avengers could agree on, it was their mutual fondness of Peter Parker, regardless of who chose to admit it out loud. Plus, it had been a while since a good number of them had gotten together for something besides the end of the world.

Around six o’clock, people started arriving, popcorn, candy, and fuzzy pajama pants at the ready. The total headcount was Rhodey, Sam, Cap, Scott, Natasha, Clint, Barnes, and Thor. Stark had to admit, he was a little impressed. Peter looked up with a frown as more and more bodies filled the room. They began sandwiching together on the couch, some having to pull up chairs from the bar or nest in pillows on the floor.

“Movie night, kiddo,” Stark said, popping up behind him and ruffling his hair. “Wanna join? It’s a good one: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”

Peter stared at the group longingly but shook his head. “No thanks. I want to finish this tonight so I can start studying for next week’s quiz tomorrow.” He stuffed all his textbooks and notes back into his bag. “I think I’ll just go home.”

Tony’s heart cracked in his chest. He placed his hands on both of the kid’s shoulders as he tried to step around him. “Peter, hey,” he said. “Wait a minute.” The teen trudged to a stop and gazed up at him with tired, miserable eyes. Stark shook his head. “I get it. This test grade’s got you spiraling a little. You’ve set yourself on fixing it, and you will.” He turned him towards the couch across the room. “But look. We’re all here right now, and we want you to watch this movie with us. So why don’t you just relax for tonight, blow off a little steam, and you can pick up where you left off tomorrow with a fresh and happy head on your shoulders?”

The group of heroes piled on the couch, catching the signal, hollered and waved him forward. “Come on, Spidey!” Sam called. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud!” Peter hesitated, glancing between the jubilant faces, reeling through all of the things he needed to work on, but eventually caved to the peer pressure.

“Okay, I guess,” he murmured. He pasted on a smile as the Avengers cheered with outlandish enthusiasm, directing him to the space they’d reserved at the end of the couch. But as soon as the lights were off, and all eyes switched from him to the screen, the smile faded.

Ferris started rattling off his snappy signature jokes—the ones that normally left Peter in stitches. Tony shot quick glances in his direction to see if they were having any effect. While the rest of the team cackled and slapped their knees, the kid just sat with his head resting against his fist. He had a blank expression on his face and a glazed look in his eye. He hinted a smile when Thor elbowed him in the arm, snorting with hearty laughter, but that was it. The happy-go-lucky Peter they all knew and loved was gone, replaced instead by some sad, dead clone. Stark almost felt guilty for making him stay.

He worried he was the only one who’d picked up on the fact that their plan was failing. Halfway through the film, and still sans even one tiny giggle, Tony considered offering to drive Peter home. Then, out of nowhere, the movie paused. Everyone turned in surprise to see Scott holding the remote.

“Hey, what gives?” Clint whined.

“Sorry, guys,” Lang said, rising to his feet and holding his hands in the air. “I promise I’m not trying to ruin the movie. I just noticed we have a Cranky Cassie in our midst.”

All eyes immediately veered towards Spider-Man, who shrunk beneath the sudden onslaught of attention. He stared up at Scott.

“Huh? A what?”

“A Cranky Cassie,” he repeated. “I suppose, in your case, a Pouty Peter.”

A few of the Avengers chuckled. Peter grimaced and crossed his arms, burying himself into the corner of the couch.

“Oh.”

“It’s okay,” Lang assured him. “We all have our Cranky Cassie moments. A little crankiness is good for you, but too much for too long tends to turn you sour.”

“I’m fine,” Peter said, reddening a little. “Really. Just turn the movie back on.”

Scott shook his head. “Nope. No one is going to enjoy the movie until you start enjoying the movie. And no one can enjoy a movie as a Cranky Cassie.” He tossed the remote to Tony, who caught it in a startled jumble, then cracked his knuckles. “Fortunately, after years of research and analysis, I’ve discovered the one sure-fire cure to this devastating ailment.”

Scott approached him, and Peter’s confusion switched to nervousness. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't two hands seizing him around the middle and squeezing his belly and sides. Peter squealed involuntarily and grappled at Scott’s arms.

“Whaha! H-hey! Mr. Lahang! W-what are you—ehehaha!”

With the element of surprise on his side, Scott was able to tickle the majority of his midsection while Peter flailed hysterically in attempt to stop him. Everyone watched with disbelief and amusement as Ant-Man shattered the kid’s walls and drew squeaky laughter from his lips with nothing but a few well-placed pokes to his stomach. On a lucky blind grab, Peter managed to catch both of Lang’s hands, panting sharply and biting back giggles.

“Quihit it! This isn’t helping!”

“Oh, I see. We’ve got a particularly stubborn case of Cranky Cassie on our hands. I think it’ll take the whole team to work this one out of his system.” He lifted his gaze to the others, grinning smugly. “What say you, ladies and gents? Shall we commence the operation?”

When Peter looked up and realized everyone was looming towards him, flexing their fingers with evil smirks, his eyes went wide. Uh-uh. No way. He scrambled to break free like his life depended on it, but Lang slowed him down just long enough that two massive hands could catch his wrists and pin him to the couch. Thor grinned at the startled hero, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Do not take this personally, young one. It is for your own good.”

Peter shook his head, nervous laughter punctuating his words. “No it’s nohot! You know it’s not! Let me gohoho!” He kicked with all his might, but Cap wrangled his legs with his super-soldier strength and sat on them to keep him still. Having his arms pinned was bad; this was worse. He was completely immobile. It took mere moments for the pair to overpower him. Spider-Man was strong, but he was no match for the beefy blonde tag team. He squirmed and wrenched like fly in a web, knowing it was hopeless. Peter was trapped.

And seven other people were towering over him, armed with fourteen hands and seventy fingers. All of which were about to pounce on his defenseless little body.

“W-wahahait!” he cried. “This is so unfair! Oh my gahahad, this is so unfair! There’s nine of you and only one of me!” He searched through the sea of wicked faces in hope of one friendly one. “Mr. Stark, help! Tell them to let me go!”

Peter’s judge of character was very poor. Instead of doing what he asked, Tony stepped forward and immediately began scuttling his fingers all over his torso. Peter jolted and screeched, laughing like crazy.

“Sorry, kid,” Stark chuckled, “but you’ve been kind of a sour puss lately. I think you need this.” Starting at his hips, he kneaded his thumbs all the way up the kid’s sides, making him giggle and flinch helplessly. He switched to clawing at his belly with all ten fingers, which incited an even stronger, gigglier reaction. Tony had no idea Peter was so ticklish. Every tiny touch made him jump and shriek. It was kind of adorable.

“Stohohahap! Oh my gahahad! Plehehehease!” Peter had hoped he could hold out longer than two seconds before crumbling into a mess of squeaky laughter. Apparently not. He could feel the eyes of every Avenger looking down at his ridiculously giggly self, watching him fall to pieces beneath Tony’s tickly fingers, and his face started burning red. “All rihihight! I’m—I’m cured, okay? I’m fihihihixed! I dohon’t need any m-mohore—ahahaha shihihit!”

Someone had started tickling his feet through his socks, and from what he could tell, they had very long nails. “Oh, I think you do,” a female voice said, unmistakably Natasha Romanoff’s. “This is one of the worst cases of Cranky Cassie I’ve ever seen.”

She pulled off his left sock, grabbed hold of his foot, and began tracing his arch with a single finger. It was a softer kind of tickling, but no less unbearable. His laughter climbed when the rest of her nails joined in, skittering across his defenseless sole, stroking both sides of his foot, and digging between his toes. She knew exactly how to make him squirm. Apparently, so did Rhodey, who seized his right ankle, ripped off that sock, and started scribbling over every inch of that foot. Peter bucked and squealed, laughter pouring from him while his feet twitched helplessly.

“Nohohohahaha! Nohohot fahahahair!” He didn’t know laughing this hard was even possible. He didn’t know tickling could be so mean. Tony took his hands off his tummy for a moment, which Peter read as mercy. Again, he was wrong. He was just moving to let someone else take a turn at torturing him. Spider-Man shrieked when something ice cold slipped under his shirt and raked across his bare stomach.

“AHA! Holy crahahap, w-what ihihis that? it’s freeheeheezing!” He glanced down and realized it was Bucky’s metal hand, scratching and tickling his belly. The fact that is was cold made it so much worse, and the feeling of it kneading directly into his skin drove him insane. It was like being tickled by five wiggly ice cubes. He fought as hard as he could to squirm out of his reach. He did not succeed.

“Give it to me straight, doc,” Sam said over the kid’s laughter, feigning concern. “Is he gonna make it?”

Scott shrugged and puffed out his cheeks. “I’m not sure. The disease just won’t seem to budge.” He grabbed his shoulder firmly. “But keep faith, my friend. The treatment seems to be working, and I think we’re on the brink of a breakthrough.”

“Has anyone tried this yet?” Clint asked. Before Peter could even prepare himself, two hands started clawing at his underarms, burrowing into the hollows of eat pit. The whole time he’d been pinned to the couch, Spider-Man had been praying to the highest heavens no one would go for that spot, that they’d tickle him literally anywhere but there. The moment Clint’s fingers met the sensitive skin, Peter lost it.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NONONONOHOHOHOHO!” His hysterical reaction only affirmed the fact that Barton had struck gold, and he drilled his fingers into his underarms with merciless intensity. Well, guess I’ll die, he thought. Just the armpit tickling was enough to end him, but the the addition of six other hands attacking three more of his most ticklish spots all at the same time was insufferable. He whipped his head back and forth, pulled helplessly against Thor’s unbreakable grip, and arched his spine against the couch, all while laughing his ass off.

“I guess that’s a no,” Sam chuckled.

“I think he’s going to explode,” Cap said, experimentally squeezing the kid’s knees. Peter’s entire body was pink, and his giggling was high-pitched and endless, interrupted only by squeaky hiccups.

“I’d say he’s cured,” Tony proclaimed. “No Cranky Cassie could make that sound.” He turned to Ant-Man with a grin. “Do you concur, doctor?”

“I do,” Scott said, stony and serious. “It’s a damn miracle.”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Peter begged. “STAHAHAHARK! CAHAHAHAHAHAP! SOHOHOMEBOHOHOHODY! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHELP!”

Then, just like that, everyone stopped tickling him all at once. Thor released his arms, and Steve climbed off his legs. The relief hit him like a truck. He lied still, dazed with disbelief, then rolled on to his side, wheezing and giggling and loopy with laughter. His cheeks hurt and his sides ached. His skin felt tingly.

“Eheh…heheh…oho my…my gosh…” The Avengers stared at kid with amusement and affection. “Y-you’re all so…so mean…heheh…”

“Congratulations, Peter,” Scott cheered, unpausing the TV. “You are officially no longer a Cranky Cassie. You may now enjoy the movie.”

Spider-Man simply groaned in response. Thor sat beside him.

“And if you don’t,” he warned, pinching Peter’s side and making him squeal, “there will be consequences.”

He jerked away and hugged himself around the middle. “Okay!” he giggled. “I get it! I’ll enjoy it! Promise!”

“Good,” Natasha said. She threw him a bag of gummy worms. “Let’s rot.”

At first, Peter tried to play the part, giggling at every little joke or moment for effect. It took him about two minutes to realize that wasn’t necessary. Maybe it was because his stomach still felt full of fluttery, giggly butterflies, but the movie suddenly seemed ten times funnier than the last time he’d watched it. Without meaning to, he started laughing at all the one-liners, sometimes doubling over himself and choking on his soda. Everyone else was no exception. The room was filled with constant giggling. Tony kept slapping his leg and snorting behind his hand. He felt warm, sandwiched between all these cackling heroes who cared for him, even though they had a weird way of showing it. As he soaked in the joyful atmosphere, the bad grade didn’t seem to mean much anymore. Yes, it was a harsh blow to the goals he’d set for himself. That didn’t mean it defined him. But these people and their smiles and the moments they all shared together? Yeah, those did.

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panda-noosh · 6 years

Text

Words: 1704

Genre: Angst

Notes: Request: Hey hey I love your writing so much! Could I ask for a scenario where the reader is an army surgeon who knows Shiro from their Garrison days and ended up tagging along to space? And they get into an argument with Shiro for being reckless with himself after a particularly tough mission? Feel free to end it with fluff or angst, hehe

---

You had lost count of how many times you had been sat in this very position over the past few months.

It was getting to a point of ridiculousness. A point where you knew you could no longer sit back and watch as Shiro threw himself into danger – unnecessary danger.

His arm was bleeding, the blood dribbling out of the gash in his muscle and spilling over onto your fingers. You rubbed it on the cloth placed in your lap, though Shiro was having a difficult time keeping his arm up on his own. He winced every time you shifted, squeezed his eyes closed and leaned back in his seat with a look of pure pain painted across his face.

At this point, you had no sympathy for him.

He watched you closely as you dabbed the wet cloth against his arm – if the blade had struck just a few inches to the left, he would have bled out immediately. There would have been no saving him. The crew would go without a leader, you would spend the rest of your days wondering what you could have done to save him – because, just like that, it would have all been over.

“You're quiet,” Shiro said finally.

You pursed your lips, trying your hardest not to bite down on your tongue. He wasn't wrong. You had barely spoken a word to him bar to ask him the procedural medical questions that gave you at least a little bit of insight into the idiocy he had gotten up to today.

Shiro tilted his head, your silence answer enough. You were mad at him. There was no longer any point in denying such a fact.

He leaned forward, hissing a little bit at the straight the moment brought upon his arm, but the pain alone wasn't enough to stop him chasing your gaze, needing you to look at him. And you didn't want to. You wanted to look away, refuse to look into those ice-grey eyes because you knew seeing them flared with so much pain would lead you to crumble.

But, try as you might, his eyes met yours and he gave you that wobbled smile – unsure, testing the waters. Once it was clear you had no intentions of smiling back at him, his own wavered and he frowned.

“You're mad at me,” he said. “What did I do?”

You bristled, hand trembling a little bit. You continued to dab the wet cloth against the gash in his arm, continued to concentrate on steadying your breathing. You were no longer sure whether you wanted to cry or scream at him. Both seemed like reasonable reactions to have right now.

Shiro leaned forward once again, raising his metal arm – his good arm – and grasping your chin. The movement was light, but the metal making contact with your skin made you inhale sharply as Shiro turned your head to look at him.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What did I do? Why are you angry?”

“You really have no idea?” you ground out.

Shiro almost seemed to flinch at the harshness of your words, your teeth gritted and your hand suddenly dabbing against his muscles a little harsher than before.

“I don't . . . I've only just got back, Y/N. I haven't had time to mess up yet.”

“Shiro,” you groaned, tossing the wet cloth into the basin. Water splashed up, smacking against your legs but you didn't care. You couldn't care. Not whenever he was being so clueless, sitting in front of you, pretending he hadn't just risked his life for a reason that was so unnecessary it was almost humorous.

“I watched you throw yourself into a Galra blade today,” you said. “I watched you nearly die today, and I could do absolutely nothing about it. In fact, I've watched you do this exact same thing time and time again, and it's exhausting me. It's exhausting all of us. We want to concentrate on the mission, but it's difficult whenever we feel like we have to keep an eye on you just to make sure you're not running into danger.”

Shiro blinked.

You ran your hands through your hair roughly before motioning towards the slit open arm you had been working on. “How can you not know what I'm saying?” you hissed. “This is a perfect example! The Galra general wasn't even going after you, and you threw yourself towards him! A little bit to the left and you would have bled out in minutes!”

“I didn't-”

“No, Shiro.” You stood up. You could feel the warm tears pooling in your eyes, and it took everything in you not to wipe them away, to make your emotions obvious. You were supposed to be angry. You were supposed to be mad at him, but whenever he looked at you with those slanted grey eyes, that clueless expression on his face – god, it took everything in you not to pull him close to you.

“Y/N, please sit down,” Shiro said. He reached towards you, but you pulled your arm free of his grasp before he could get a good enough grip on you. “You're mad because I injured myself?”

“Don't make it sound so simple,” you warned. “You know it's not as easy as just injuring yourself. You nearly died. Time and time again, you've nearly died. When are you gonna start to realise that the team needs you? We need you here! We need you alive! It's all fun and games until life finally decides to stop giving you chances, and then what are we gonna do?”

“So you're saying I should just sit back and let you guys take on all the risks?”

You closed your eyes. “No, Shiro. That's not what I'm saying. I'm telling you that you don't need to wipe out every single Galra in your path – the one that attacked you today was basically retreating. You felt the need to kill him even though he was going to cause no harm to the team, and you ended up nearly dead because of it.” You opened your eyes then, turned to look at him.

He was gripping his upper arm. The blood had stopped pooling out of the wound, but the gash was still open, and there were still tiny bits of timber lodged inside of it. Slowly, despite your anger and your trembling hands, you lowered yourself onto the seat next to him and got back to work – because this was your job. It was your job to patch up the injured, whether they injured themselves out of pure stupidity or not. This was your job, even though it sometimes took more emotional energy out of you than you would ever came to admit.

Your hands shook. Your heart pounded in your chest, the words you had just spoken spiralling in the air between you. Never before had you confronted Shiro on his recklessness – you never believed it to be your place. He would stumble into the medical room with some injured body part gripped in his hand, and you would sit down and do your job – that was what you had been taught to do. It didn't matter how badly it affected you. It didn't matter that you sometimes stayed awake at night, twisting and turning as images of the brutal wounds you had patched up that day flashed through your mind.

No. Not once did you ever believe it was your place to call people out on their idiocy, but you had had enough.

Shiro watched you closely as you got back to work on his wound – even after everything you had just said, even though you were clearly distressed, you were still helping him out, and that fact didn't go unnoticed by the black Paladin.

He inhaled deeply, and before you could react, he had leaned forward in his seat and was pressing his forehead to the side of your head. Feeling him this close to you, feeling his breath fanning your face as you worked, made you very almost tear up, lose control all over again.

“You work so hard,” he whispered, so quietly that you were almost certain he didn't even want you hearing what he was saying. “None of us ever stopped to think about how this effects you – seeing us almost die nearly every day. It can't be easy.”

“It's not,” you croaked out.

“I'm sorry.”

Your gaze flicked up, clicking with his own. He leaned back to get a better view of your face, keeping his injured arm still so as to not destroy the work you had done so far.

His apology meant something. Maybe it was because you had a soft spot for him. Maybe it was because he sounded and looked like he genuinely meant it. Maybe it was because you had known Shiro since the Garrison, and not once did he ever come across a man who meant harm to anyone. All the good things he had ever done, whether they were sacrifices or not, had always meant something to you. He was trying to help. He had good intentions. He always had good intentions.

You bit down on your lip and nodded. “Just – Be careful.”

Shiro nodded back to you. “I will. I promise, I will.”

And you knew there would be times when Shiro would be back in your medical office with a near-deadly wound again, because that was just who he was. He got caught up in the moment, got lost in the atmosphere of violence and there was no dragging him back. You would see him in this state again, would panic over his wellbeing all over again, would most likely scold him for being reckless once again – but despite all this, despite you knowing all this, you still believed him when he promised you that he would at least try.

Because just as much as it wasn't like Shiro to sit back and let danger continue, it wasn't like Shiro to break a promise, either.

#voltron #shiro voltron #takashi shirogane #voltron scenario #request

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punapurreciator · 7 years

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My Favorite Ladybug Writers

So I pretty recently joined the Miraculous Ladybug fandom (about 4 months?) and I went on an absolute reading spree but Noticed a lot of the fic rec lists out there are pretty sparse or there's a lot of repetition. And I figured, ya know I just read nearly 300 fics over the last few months I might as well make some recommendations XD

So this is the first of possibly many rec lists Im going to put together for the Ladybug fandom. enjoy!

Quicksilversquared

This writer has 89(!!!) Fanfics out there for Miraculous Ladybug and they are pretty much ALL wonderful. The writing is excellent, characterization on point and there's never a boring moment. And the great thing is that most of these stories (even the serious/heavy ones) have some degree of playfulness to them. This writer never seems to let you walk away without a smile, and that's amazing.

Here are a few of my favorites:

The Cooking Contest - An out-of-class assignment leads to the entirety of the class participating in a cooking competition. …some people do better than others.

the Anniversary - The anniversary of Adrien's mother's disappearance was always difficult. He's sure nothing can make his day any less miserable… ...until a certain spotted superhero shows up.

the Crocodile Glasses - When knock-off copies of Jagged Stone's super-awesome Eiffel Tower start popping up, Jagged is not pleased. Still, it doesn't take long to come up with a solution- he just needs to release his own official line of sunglasses! And naturally, he needs one Marinette Dupain-Cheng to design them for him. Now, if only Marinette could figure out how to execute some of Jagged's more out-there ideas...

Hacking the Ladyblog - Chat Noir likes taking goofy pictures on patrol. That was normal. What was not normal was those photos showing up without any explanation on the Ladyblog.

Princess to the Rescue - Chat Noir gets into a bit of trouble when the akumatized magician Exodus the Spectacular overpowers him in a fight and Ladybug is nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, a baker’s daughter joins the fight. aka Marinette totally has Bo staff fight training and kicks some villain butt.

Cuddles in a Coat - In a lot of ways, Adrien Agreste isn't a normal teenage boy. He's a model, he has a bodyguard, he's secretly a superhero.... But just like any other teenager, he'll stubbornly refuse to admit when an adult was right. Even if he ends up freezing because of it.

Otoshigo Another talented writer is Otoshigo who seems to straddle the border of utterly adorable (see: For the Love of Shoujo ) and Slightly twisted (See: Benefactor ) or even dark. This writer can play the characters as the awkward blushing teens they are, and they can just as easily (and convincingly!!!) twist their perceptions ever so slightly toward something deeper (and slightly terrifying)

Some of the stories CAN be really weird and out there, but hey, read the tags so you know what you’re getting into and you won't have any trouble. (shrugs)

Some more of my favorites include:

27 Secrets - “Secrets,” Chat purred, waving the photo out like a little flag. “I want secrets. Twenty-seven pictures worth of secrets. And you’ll give them to me. One picture at a time.” [Shameless Marichat]

Caught and Captured - Adrien gets caught in a little lie, that somehow only spirals more and more out of control. Is there any way to pull himself out of it? Does he even want to? [Adrienette]

(Adrien acts like cat noir around Marinette and she thinks they've body-swapped. X3 This story Is simultaneously hilarious and heart-wrenching)

Marinette Saves the World - Through a series of unfortunate events, average and clumsy Marinette meets a boy from the future! Who says that he needs to have sex with her to save the world? Except no. Just... no.

(OMG this one!!! Drop what you’re doing and read it NOW!!! It's so freaking sweet and seriously romantic!!!)

Guilty Pleasures - An anonymous writer is a little too good at writing fanfiction and Marinette somehow gets roped into reading it. Problem is, now she can’t put it down. [LadyNoir]

Chat Noir: Calendar Edition - Marinette’s class has to come up with an idea to make some cash for their upcoming class trip. However, things go awry with their plan and somehow Chat Noir gets involved. All Marinette wants is to go to Nice with Adrien. Can she make it through this without losing her mind?

Clairelutra Next up is Clairelutra who seems to make it a goal to melt her readers to piles of goo with sexual tension so thick you COULDN'T cut it with a knife. (Almost all her stories are rated as at least T) but, (as much as I love sexual tension and smut in a fic) That’s far from all this writer brings to the table. Clairelutra is a master at grabbing a readers heart and "puppeteering" (puppeteer, haha) it any way she so chooses.

Whether she deigns to make you tear up and/or cry : ( see: river flows in you) Or gets your heart racing in her action scenes ( see: welcome to the show) or makes your toes curl during a kiss ( ALSO see: welcome to the show, and Bang Bang, and... ahem. well there are a lot.) And there's that (WONDERFUL AMAZING PRECIOUS) element of tenderness and longing in just about EVERY romantic scene that just KILLS me every time.

Anyway, some of my favorites of hers include:

gonna miss this someday - “I mean, am I just too clingy?” Chat asked her ceiling, reclining on her lounge and tossing a spare ball of yarn up and down as Marinette beaded with a vengeance. “I know it’s just one day, but I miss her.”(When Ladybug misses their nightly friend-date, Chat asks Marinette for girl advice.)

i think it’s time i told you (i’m a fan of your universe) - “...Something up, minou?” He didn’t answer her at first, staying silent as he opened his palm and stared at it. Or rather, stared at the ring in it.

Ladybug stared, almost unseeing, at the blood-red stone nestled in its bed of diamonds, and wondered why it suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe.

(It wasn’t necessarily an engagement ring, right? She... she would’ve known if he had a lover, wouldn’t she? Chat was too much of a hopeless romantic to not gush about a significant other to anyone who would listen if he had one... right?

It could be a memento or a gift or... something. Something that didn’t imply Chat was about to get married.)

“...Have you ever thought about getting married?” ...Or not.

you're really my dearest friend - Sometimes, the process of getting out is much more difficult than it really should be — but sometimes friends can help, if you let them.

we're the kids your mama warned you about - (A collection of PWP oneshots, mostly focusing on Ladynoir/the love square, as I try to teach myself how to sin.)

hot mess - (the sequel to Bang Bang ) ...What did one say to one's vigilante partner when said partner was in costume and he was in a bathrobe? What did one say to the lady who had pinned him to a wall and kissed him senseless, not knowing he was her partner? What did one say to the girl he had been in love with for years when he was alone with her in his room at night? "Come here often, beautiful?" Not that. Imthepunchlord Oh wow, here's a writer who knows how to balance playful with exciting really well. A lot of their fics are action/adventure driven plots and they know how to build up to that big fight at the end without making you spend half the fic dreading it. There's always too much happening for you to feel much besides excitement. Which, honestly, I LOVED about these stories. They keep the ball rolling at a great pace and never seems to rely on exposition when they can just show you something. And that lends itself to the feeling of being right there in the story with the character. (A MUST for any good action/adventure) This writer also knows how to stretch the rules with magic and the kwami juuust right to make everything fit and still be believable (a gift if ever I saw one)

Some of my favorites from Iamthepunchlord are:

Marinette and the Seven Little Gods - Marinette been down on her luck, waiting for the day karma would give her something good, something that would make her life better! She wasn't expecting karma to give her a box, a box with seven little gods in it.

Over the Wall - The accident, while unintentional, was costly. For her wrong doings against Chloe, Marinette is sent over the wall to die. But instead of death, she winds up in a strange, unnerving world. Good thing she'll have a cat to watch her back in this bizarre place. (inspired by a mix of movies and shows: Stardust, Beauty and the Beast, Alice in Wonderland, Secret of Moonacre, and Over the Garden Wall.)

Trouble in White - Finding your soulmate is supposed to be uplifting, and amazing, and just... miraculous. But for Marinette, it wasn't any of that. Her soulmate, he... he was... What does one do when your soulmate is an akuma?

The Ladybug and The Mer - When Captain Ladybug is lost at sea, she finds herself saved by one of the most dangerous sea beings in the world: a mer. (Merman Adrien AU)

Always a Hero, No Matter the Miraculous - (a LARGE series) it covers a big variety of Miraculous/kwami swaps. Including such favorites as:

Rise of Mariposa - Where Marinette is chosen by the butterfly to help Cat Noir in his fight against Harlequin who has taken possession of the ladybug miraculous for her own selfish gain.

& the short: Delicate Wings - Where Adrien is the butterfly helping ladybug fight the evil black cat from afar.

Kindness from a Stray - where Adrien and Marinette have kwami swapped (There are several shorts like this, all equally funny/cute)

A Declaration of Love - Adrien is the fox and Marinette is the peacock <3

(oh GOD I love this one. it's an all-time favorite. It’s very sweet and playful and its done so well that it just WORKS. I love the conflict of his feather allergy keeping Adrien (AKA Malin) from his beloved Belle Bleue XD)

Freedom_Shamrock If fluff is your thing PLEASE check this writer out!!! Freedom_Shamrock is a master of cuddles, snuggles, and hugs. Their stories just exude a soft comforting vibe that sinks into your bones and stays there for the rest of the day. But they are also INTERESTING. The conversations are memorable, The plots are intriguing and the characterization is lovely. If you want something sweetly romantic to read look no further.

Some of my personal favorites include:

Something Familiar - Marinette is a teenage witch, and it's time for her to find a familiar. (Witch AU, no kwamis, Adrien never got to go to school) ( HIGHLY RECOMENDED!!! Cutest cat!Adrien fic EVER )

A Little Light - (series) its basically an adorable series where Adrien notices Marinette on his own and asks her out. It follows up with their first date, some problems with dating while being a superhero, and then an accidental reveal. (every bit of this one is SO SO CUTE.)

Hugdrien (AKA: Adrien Needs Hugs) - (series) With this one the name pretty much says it all. It’s a series of stories where Adrien is having a tough time at home and Marinette and their friends/her family are there for him.

Miraculous Acts of Kindness - (series) this series is basically a slowburn MariChat fic XD It’s super cute and fluffy but also leads into Mature waters so be aware of that! BullySquadess @bullysquadess

Here's another writer who's clearly out to melt her readers with sexual tension But BullySquadess is out to do it with a goddamn VENGEANCE. (and she WILL make you laugh yourself to death getting there) Her stories are drop dead sexy and SUPER funny. It's the kind of well-built humor that has you cackling so loud people can hear you across the house and forces you to take breaks from reading just to BREATHE. I think the best part of this writers style for me is the hopeful longing she just pulls out of Chat like its the most natural thing in the world. It’s so so so so so sweet and it plays to his character perfectly. and she gets it just right every time. word of caution: the writer multi-ships so if you don't dig it then check the tags before getting invested. XD

My favorites of hers include:

The Ladybugs and The Bees - Ladybug and Chat Noir tackle teenhood! Watch our heroes face the realities of growing up- surviving puberty and akuma alike as together they navigate the unknown pitfalls of love and first-time intimacy. Also dick jokes. There's like... alot of dick jokes.

Oh man who hasn't read this one? It's been on like every fic rec list i could find when i first joined the fandom. But oh WOW does it deserve it. This sucker is 38 (!!!) chapters long so far (!!??) and I've read it THREE TIMES. I joined the fandom like FOUR months ago! And yet I keep coming back to this one becouse it's just SO GOOD.

Seven Minutes - Post-Reveal, Adrien and Marinette continue to play chicken with their feeling. Alya, however, has other games in mind...

Live by the Ladybutt - Chat likes Ladybug's Ladybutt. Ladybug likes that Chat likes her Ladybutt. Crack ensues.

Casual - Ladybug has grown exceptionally comfortable with her partner... which means Chat Noir is #suffering.

The Pitfalls Of Being a Wingman - We all know the classic Marichat tale, but what's happening behind the scenes of our favorite duo's love-making? (AKA Plagg regrets everything and it’s HILARIOUS) XDD

Cohabitation (And Other Disastrous Ideas) - These two best friends decide to move in together, what happens next will shock you! (Or not, considering all roommate fics end up the same anyhow.) thelastpilot

Oh man, all of this writer's stories have this element of almost poetic beauty to them that it's really hard to describe the style. There's never a word or a scene wasted with this writer. It's all about slowly building up that relationship brick by brick, SEEING the characters getting closer and closer with every new meeting and then finishing it off in a MASSIVELY fulfilling way. The humor is top notch too but it seems to take a backseat to the plot and considering how well done the plot typically is I have no problem with that.

word of caution- This writer multi-ships so If you're like me and looking for a specific pairing remember to check the tags! XD

My personal favorites of this writer include:

Won't Tell a Soul - Nino accidentally runs head long into the biggest most stressful secret he can imagine, but now that he knows the truth about Marinette he is determined to help her in any way he can. (Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng)

& Its sequel: The Weight of Jade - which shockingly (for this list) centers around Nino/Alya. This writer really knows how to get their characters across in all the best ways. This is one of the few times in fanfiction I really found myself really enjoying a side character's story and that's something HUGE.

Rainy Days - A storm rolls through Paris and refuses to let up, so when a water fearing cat is rescued by the kind efforts of his designing classmate he starts to pay a little closer attention to someone he should have always known better.

Quiet Ice, Silent Nights - Cat Noir is on a late night patrol when he catches sight of an elegant lone figure skater, and is surprised to discover it is his classmate Marinette.

Okay, this one is simply put, a work of ART. It is beautiful. The way the writer lovingly describes the ice skating and (spoilers: the piano scenes) makes you really FEEL the beauty of the moment. It’s so lovely.~ Seriously, drop what you're doing and read this if you haven't already

Paw Problems - (An alternate version of the Animan Episode) The class has taken a field trip to the zoo, but when Kim starts being a jerk and creates a major situation, are Ladybug and Cat Noir going to be enough to get everyone out on two feet? Or are the classmates going to need to get used to paws, hooves, and talons? Sadly, this one's unfinished. But let me say I LOVED the little snippets of humor in this, especially Chloe's animal form and Nino's reaction to it. XD KryallaOrchid The style KryallaOrchid uses is pretty similar to Quicksilversquared in that the stories all have some degree of playfulness and humor to them ( I love that in fics) but they also aim for something a little deeper too. this writer likes to play on the idea of rightness between the characters and builds off it as they go. (I'm all for the 'soulmate' vibe Adrien and Marinette have going on)

Some favorites are:

Tendencies - (series) Miraculous have side effects. From pats becoming a necessity to eating flowers, follow Adrien and Marinette as they come to terms with their new tendencies, and each other. Hawk Moth is coming.

This is a LOOOOOONG series and makes for a very entertaining read.

Sting - When Chat Noir inexplicably disappears, leaving Ladybug bee-hind to face Papillon on her own, a new wielder is chosen to keep the akuma from swarming. Ladybug is adamant she doesn’t want another partner buzzing around and why is this new-bee flirting with her? Meanwhile, Adrien just wishes Ladybug would stop bugging out and listen to him because his bee puns are fuzz-tastic.

I seriously went into this one thinking I wasn't going to like it and I ended up falling head over heels for it. Sting is SO worth the read. Watching poor Ladybug freak out over her missing partner (sending him voicemails wondering where he is and trying to reassure him she's not 'replacing' him with this new bee hero and that she's going to get him back ) Is so SO SOO heart wrenching and sweet.

(and thankfully Adrien DOES manage to get through to her that Chat IS 'Bumblebee’ fairly early on so we aren't left stewing in angst FOREVER)

Reflections - The mirror shows you how you truly are, but for a Miraculous holder, it shows what was. All Marinette can see is ghosts and she doesn’t want to become one. (A heart-wrencher for SURE but the ending was SO worth it.) ---

#Miraculous Ladybug Fic rec list #fic rec list #Ladynoir #Marichat #Adrienette #Ladrein #Favorite fic writers

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fallen-gravity · 7 years

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Would you ever consider writing the Tamatoa scene from Maui's point of view? Particularly from the part where Tamatoa brings up Maui's abandonment and you can see Maui glance back at Moana to where she comes back with his hook...? His expression is so shocked when she helps him up, and I wonder if he's ever been supported like that before. BTW, I love your writing! I literally spent the past couple of days going through all of your Moana tags and stuff and you bring the duo to life so well!!!

aah, thank you so much!! I’m touched

what’s this, an oportunity to write a fic about Maui’s inner dialouge about Moana? What is this, my birthday? :D

It was supposed to be easy.

It was supposed to be a quick, in-and out type ofmission. Send in the kid, grab the hook while she keeps Tamatoa distracted, andget out of there. He was even going to wait, just for dramatic effect, untilTamatoa started threatening Moana to swoop in just in time to save her. You’renot my hero, she’d said when they met almost a month ago, and he wasprepared to prove her wrong.

And it was. Although she complained a lot, and Mauimeans a lot, Moana eventually agreed to go in and distract Tamatoa whileMaui snuck around the back so he could grab his hook. The kid kept him talking,which was good; because once Tamatoa starts about himself he could go on hours.Maui had climbed up to the second layer of the cavern, pretended hewasn’t keeping an eye on the kid, just in case, and crouched until he wasright above Tamatoa’s shell, his hook only a mere few feet away from him.

Maui lept once, and missed, but that’s okay becausehe still had both of his hands on the ledge. He pushed himself back up, andcrouched back down again. Moana’s keeping Tamatoa busy again, good, and Mauistood to leap again.

…Until Tamatoa started singing. When Maui catchesa glimpse of Moana as Tamatoa turns around, she’s got the same confusedexpression on her face that he does. Tamatoa wasn’t really one for singing anddancing as far as Maui was concerned, but he supposes that’s what happens whenyou live alone in a dark cavern and somebody finally comes to see you.(Not that Maui would know anything about that, of course).

Moana’s sudden outburst of yelling snaps Maui fromhis thoughts, and when he looks toward Tamatoa again he’s slowly lowering herinto his open mouth. Oh no, no no, if Tamatoa thinks he can get awayfrom this scot free, after trying to eat his mortal, than he’s really gotanother thing coming to him. Maui was just gonna leave the guy alone, becauseMoana seems so insistent on getting to Te Fiti as fast as her littlecanoe can carry her. But now? Tamatoa’s gonna have to pay, and what better wayto get back together with his hook than to fight Tamatoa to save a mortal’slife? Maui leaps again, and thankfully lands solidly on two feet on top ofTamatoa’s shell, and grabs onto the hilt.

“Hey, Crab Cake!” he calls, and flashes Moana a grinas he yanks it out of Tamatoa’s shell.

–

Everything’s going great, until it isn’t. Veryquickly.

The failed transformation isn’t even what registersfirst. It’s Moana’s small gasp from the ground as she watches him, like she’s worriedfor him. Which is ridiculous, because she doesn’t need to be, Maui’s foughtTamatoa a hundred times over and he’s won every single battle.

Plus…they’ve only known each other for a month,and he’s been nothing but cold to her. There’s no way she’s actually worriedfor him. She’s probably just…shocked, is all. Because if she were worried,that would mean she cares, and nobody’s ever cared long enough to worry overhim about something.

…Especially not over something as small andpointless as this. So his hook is a little rusty. That…that shouldn’t worrythe kid as much as it does. That shouldn’t send little frissons of fear throughher like she’s worried he might not make it out okay. He’s a demigod. Of coursehe’ll make it out okay.

The second thing that registers is just how quicklyTamatoa turns the tables on him. No, literally. One moment Maui is finestanding on two feet on top of Tamatoa’s shell, and in the next, Tamatoa startsrocking his shell as violently as he can back and forth, and before Maui evenhas time to look for another foothold, he slips off his shell, gripping tightlyonto his hook to prevent himself from losing it.

Big mistake. As soon as Maui starts plummetingtowards the ground, Tamatoa grabs onto the curved end of the hook and he comesscreeching to a stop. Before Maui can even finish processing that motion,Tamatoa starts swinging his hook in a violent circle, and Maui suddenly findshimself careening towards the cavern wall.

He smacks into the wall with a dull thud, and whenMaui’s finally able to focus on Tamatoa fully again he’s clicking his pincerstogether and grinning like he’s having the time of his life. Ooh, Maui reallydoesn’t like that look on his face. Maui growls to himself, quietly, beforehe hefts himself to his feet. He grabs for his hook in front of him, and swingsit out towards Tamatoa.

And because the universe itself seems to beholding a grudge against him, he mistimes his swing just enough to allowTamatoa to grab his hook and flick it upwards, sending him flying towards theceiling of the cavern. And as he’s flying upwards, out of the very corner ofhis eyes, there’s Moana again, staring up at him, and that horrified expressionplastered to her face almost hurts just as much as Tamatoa’s claws do.

And as he begins spiraling back down towards theground, even though everything is spinning again, even though his head ispounding from rapping it against the cavern ceiling, and even though Tamatoa isstill singing his own praises, Maui doesn’t miss the way Moana flits forward,like she wants to try to catch him but isn’t sure if she should, or thepanicked way she cries out his name as he plummets back towards the ground andslams into it.

There’s the sound of fast, panicked footstepsrunning towards him, the sound of footsteps far too large to belong to Moanacutting off her path, and then a surprised yelp as she’s lifted into the airand tossed aside to some other part of the cavern. If Maui had a moment tothink, to breathe, he would laugh. Really, he would. Because this kid,Moana, tried to bypass a crustacean fifty times her own size to run to hisside and help him back onto his feet to see if he’s okay. In a moment of panic,she chose his life over her own, without hesitation, to help him keepfighting.

If Maui had time to laugh, he would, but he doesn’t,so he shoves that thought down and takes Tamatoa distracting himself with Moanaas an opportunity to reach for his hook again. But he’s too slow, and Tamatoa’stoo quick, and as soon as he places a hand on his hook Tamatoa digs a claw intohis foot and drags him backwards. Moana’s watching him from a makeshift cage,but before he can turn to look at her, to whisper some kind of promise to herthat he’s going to be okay, because her worry is still burning into him, Tamatoaslams his claw into him and, if only for a moment, everything goes dark, so hecan’t. He reaches for his hook again, because it’s right there, butTamatoa picks it up and wipes at him with his claw until he’s forced to let go.

Maui flops to the floor, exhausted, and feels asthough he can no longer do anything but to stay lying there and accept defeat.

Above him, Tamatoa slams a claw into the wall, andthe entire cavern goes pitch black, save for Tamatoa’s bioluminescence. BeforeMaui has time to imagine what horrible thing Tamatoa could do to him in thedark, he steps forward and pushes his hair aside, and Maui’s heart drops to hisstomach.

No. Tamatoa wouldn’t sink that low. He would never.Maui hasn’t told Moana about his mother or how she abandoned him to the sea.It’s the story he’s most ashamed of, the story he spent his entire life tryingto cover up and forget, the story he’d swore to never tell again. Everyone he’sever gotten close to, and everyone he’s ever trusted ran once he told them thestory. They got scared, because they thought he would be too much to handle.He’s scared hundreds of others off with his abandonment issues and needs to beclose to someone else. Mortal and immortal. It never mattered to them, becauseonce they figured out how much work he would be, how much hurt he’s been through,they decided it was too much for them.

He was just beginning to think that Moana wouldstay, too.

He spares a nervous glance back at her, trying tosee her reaction, but can’t see anything past the pitch black and Tamatoa’sbright claw reaching down to pick him up by the hair. But it turns out hedoesn’t have to guess her reaction at all, because when Tamatoa holds him overher little cage he locks eyes with her, if only for a brief moment.

And he would’ve expected disgust, or pity,or even sadness, but when Maui looks into her eyes he finds none ofthose things. There’s concern, sure, but there’s also anger, and determination,like she’s angry at Tamatoa for what he’s doing to him.Tamatoa yanks Maui off into some other part of the cave, but not quicklyenough, for Maui can spot, vaguely, as Moana begins to scale her makeshiftcage.

Before Maui can process anything else, he’s flyingthrough the air again, momentarily, before he slams roughly down onto thesurface of Tamatoa’s shell. He makes one last attempt to reach for his hook,but when Tamatoa begins to spin roughly in a circle again, Maui finally acceptsdefeat and his arm flops to his side.

Maui’s all and willing to give up when Tamatoatosses him into the air and catches him in his mouth. Because even he knows,realistically, that he has no chance of getting out of here alive. His best betlies with one last prayer to the Gods, hoping at least one of them iswilling to listen, and-

“Hey!” Moana suddenly shouts, and when Tamatoa turnsshe’s waving the heart of Te Fiti around in her hand, and Tamatoa spits himaside as he dives after her. Despite everything, despite the exhaustionpounding through every muscle in his body, Maui leaps forward and grabs atTamatoa’s leg, because Moana’s doing it again, she’s choosing his lifeover hers again, she’s risking herself for him again.

And surprise surprise, it doesn’t work, and Tamatoakeeps storming towards Moana anyway. Maui drops his head down, because he can’twatch, he can’t watch Moana throw herself away for him, because she doesn’tdeserve this, he doesn’t deserve this, not since he’s been cold and rudeand an overall-

A soft hand gently touching his shoulder catches himso off-guard he flinches. When he finds the strength to look up, Moana’shovering over him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder.

“You okay?” She asks, and he’s so shocked, and thewords sound so foreign to him that it takes him a moment to realize she’stalking to him.

“Yeah” Maui breathes, and tries to push himselfupward again but fails. “B-but how did you-” he starts, but she shakes herhead, and picks up his hook from the ground next to her and shoves it into hischest.

“We gotta go,” she urges, and nudges her headtowards the cavern entrance.

Maui scrambles for a response, for a question, but beforehe can so as much open his mouth Moana tucks herself under his arm and places agentle hand on the small of his back and his throat closes up. And before he’seven halfway through processing that motion, Moana presses her side against hisand curls her other arm around his.

She could’ve run. There are about three or fourdifferent ways to escape out of Tamatoa’s cave, and Maui knows for a fact therewere at least two she could’ve run to after she escaped her little cave. Shecould’ve looked after herself, she could’ve ran, she could’ve abandoned himhere to face Tamatoa alone.

But she didn’t, and instead chose to supporthim. She’s pressed closely to his side, one arm slinging around his sideand the other around his arm. She slowly helps heft himself to his feet, andimmediately tightens her grip on him when he starts to stumble backwards alittle bit. Moana clicks her locket closed with the real heart inside, grinningmischievously up at him, and curls her arm even further as she guides him intothe geyser and back towards her canoe.

He knows, now, that Moana isn’t like the others.

He knows, now that Moana will never leave.

#moana #paper scraps #team bun buddies #okay but. maui looking at moana and realizing she's different from everyone else is my favorite trope ever okay #because moana easily could've run #one of the books describes a large crack in the wall right beside her cage #and it literally states that the only reason she didn't run is because tamatoa stil had maui pinned down #and she was worried for him #maui: ..she protect me #maui: .......#maui: <3 #BYE

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lavenderandsage · 5 years

Text

Behind the Scenes: A Southside Story Episode Seven

Sage’s deal with FP was simple and fair.

She must attend school every day and graduate. She was also required to help out the club with any outstanding tasks. Most of the time, it was simple runs and drops, but there was also sometimes the grunt work, sweeping, cleaning, stocking the Whyte Worm and so on. On rare occasions, there were special little projects. Like, for example, delivering the surprise in the box for the waitress at Pop’s. It always made her feel important when FP trusted her with tasks like that.

As long as Sage kept up her end of the bargain, FP gave Sage a place to live and allowed her to be in the Serpents. Those were the conditions. Before that, she had tried her best to make it work with no experience in the real world, no job, no money, no family, all while staying under the radar from social services. Eventually, she stumbled across the Serpents, who became home base and her family.

Unbeknownst to most, the Whyte Worm had nine rooms in various sizes upstairs above the bar. Some members crashed there temporarily between housing, some borrowed the space for a drunken one night stand after one too many bourbon shots. FP kept a room for himself, which he used as an office a place to meet with other members privately.

But FP had reserved the smallest room at the end of the hall for her to stay in. He furnished the room with a small twin bed with a lumpy mattress, an old desk, and a wicker dresser. There was one tiny window placed in the center of the wall, her bed to the left of it, the dresser to the right. She tacked a blanket up to keep the early morning light out. Other than that, it had been up to her to find an old microwave which she kept on top of her dresser for her daily dinners of ramen soup and green tea.

Simple but home.

Simplicity was her style.

Perhaps the biggest drawback was the lack of shower and the bathroom was down the hall. But as usual, she found a way to make it work, using the bathroom sink to freshen up daily, or in dire situations, braving the gym locker room at school for a real shower. Another negative was the constant noise and smelled of cheap tequila and cigarettes. But so came the price of living above a bar.

A perk of becoming a Serpent also allowed Sage to earn a little money. Aside from a roof over her head, she was able to earn extra from some of the jobs she did. Essentially it was pennies since she was on the bottom of the totem pole, but she was disciplined and she managed to save most of what she earned only spending what she absolutely needed to. She hoped by the time she graduated, she would have enough saved to rent or even own a trailer in Sunnyside and have a real place of her own someday.

Sage’s anxiety was spiraling out of control, her head reeling from accidentally hearing the two men outside her room the night prior. For the first time in months, she genuinely felt unsafe, an uneasiness stirring in the pit of her stomach. The threat of the outside world was an everyday occurrence, but threats within the family concerned her. They swore an oath and to go against that was mutiny. They weren’t just waiting for FP to fail, they were counting on it.

She knew she needed to find Toni immediately to help her unravel her concerns.

“We’ve got to talk!” Sage exclaimed, grabbing Toni’s arm, pulling her against the row of lockers out of the bustle of bodies slumping through the hallway.

Toni stared at her wordlessly, drinking in her wild eyes and tight jawline. “Wha—”

“I heard something last night, I definitely should not have heard,” she interrupted.

“What the hell happened?” Toni’s own eyes widened wearily.

“I was upstairs in my room and I heard two men talking outside in the hall about FP. Toni, they want him out.”

“Whoa, whoa, what? Out of what?” She kicked her foot up and back against the locker, hugging her books tight into her chest.

“The Serpents, Toni! They said about how he’s dropped the ball and put us all at risk. And something about FP torching the car that Jason Blossom took to get rid of the evidence.”

“Oh my god, what?! You need to slow down and explain everything. I need details.” Toni said, holding her hand up.

“Mornin’ ladies,” Sweet Pea sauntered over. He immediately picked up on their protective stance and hushed voices. “Uh, am I interrupting something?” He looked between them

“Always, Sweet Pea,” Toni teased, patting him on his broad chest.

Sage rubbed the back of her neck, nervously. “We’ll finish talking about this tonight. I’ll explain everything and we can try to piece it together. But, I think I was right.”

“Piece what together?” Sweet Pea asked. “Right about what?”

Sage looked at Toni wearily. Should they fill him in?

Toni gnawed on her bottom lip for a moment, making the decision for both of them. “We’ll tell you tonight, but we need to go somewhere private.”

“My place is out,” Sage stated plainly.

Sweet Pea thought for a moment. “Let’s go to my trailer.”

***

Toni and Sweet Pea sat side by side on a raggedy plaid couch in his living room, while Sage sat on the carpeted floor across from them, cross legged.

Sage had never been to his place before prior to this. It appeared smaller than she thought with two small bedrooms, one bathroom. The kitchen and living room were only separated by a counter that served as a breakfast nook. Sweet Pea rarely spoke of his folks, so Sage wasn’t sure if he lived with them or not. The bedroom doors were closed and gave nothing away. Although it wasn’t exactly clean, it wasn’t dirty either. It was just very lived in. A pile of dirty clothes in the middle of the living room and towels draped over a temporary and makeshift clothesline in the kitchen.

“Alright,” Sweet Pea said, rubbing his face before tucking his dog tags back under his shirt. “Start from the beginning.”

“First,” Sage began, “you need to promise me this stays here… in this dingy, dimly lit trailer.”

“Hey, don’t hate. And yes, I promise.”

Sage smiled as Toni positioned herself to get more comfortable on the couch, tucking her legs under her slim frame. “I told Toni this, but a few weeks ago, I went to FP’s trailer after a drop and I saw Jason Blossoms jacket hanging in his closet. I asked him about it but he shrugged it off and called it ‘insurance’. FP also met some woman at the drive-in. My theory is maybe she paid FP to have Blossom killed.”

“No, no,” Sweet Pea shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong. She was the buyer for the Twilight Drive-In. Well-- her husband was. Word is, he’s in jail but he used her to secure the deal. He paid FP to have the Serpents trash the drive-in so he could buy the land for at a lower price.”

Toni and Sage looked at each other and then back at him. “How do you know that?” asked Toni.

“Joaquin told me. FP and Joaquin have been real tight since the summer.”

A light bulb went off. The takeout bag she retrieved from the waitress and given to Mustang, had been filled with stacks of bills.

“So… the reason why he had me drop off the snake for her was because she didn’t pay him enough. It was just a warning,” she said thoughtfully. “But it had nothing to do with Blossom like I thought. It was all orchestrated around the drive-in, which worked.”

Toni nodded. “Yes, okay, that makes sense. But something else happened. What had you pawing at me this morning?”

Sage twirled the pendant on her necklace, rolling it between her fingers. “Two guys were outside my room talking last night. The first thing that took me by surprise was about how FP took a job with Andrew’s Construction.”

“Why the hell would he do that?” questioned Sweet Pea, sitting up a little straighter, eyes narrowing. He too hadn’t heard this piece of information yet.

“I think he really wants to clean it up for Jughead. You know, try and make things right finally,” Sage trailed off.

“Yea, that’s bull,” retorted Sweet Pea. “He was so out of his mind drunk at the bar last night, Mustang had to drag him away from Hog Eye to get him home in one piece.”

“I don’t know, maybe he needed the money?” Sage suggested half-heartedly.

“We all need money.” scoffed Toni. She softened after a moment. “But maybe he really is trying to keep tabs on things on the Northside, especially the Cooper girl throwing out that Blossom worked for the Serpents. Or maybe he really is trying to get his family back. Both are viable hypotheses, really.”

Sweet Pea shrugged, tossing a side glance at her. “Okay, nerd.”

Toni leaned over and punched him in the arm.

“There’s more,” Sage continued before Sweet Pea retaliated. “They mentioned something about FP torching evidence. Jughead and some other girl found it and went to the police.”

“Snitch!” Sweet Pea exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the couch arm. Toni jumped.

“Sweet Pea…” Sage chided gently.

“What car?” Toni asked.

“If it had evidence, I’m sure it had to do with Blossom again.” Sweet Pea said, still frowning deep.

“Which still makes me think that maybe FP actually did kill Blossom.” Sage pointed out.

“So… what if he did?” contemplated Sweet Pea.

The group was quiet for a moment, pondering over what that meant to each of them.

“What about the two guys?” Toni wondered redirecting her attention to Sage.

“All I know is that they are counting on FP failing and I think they are planning on trying to throw FP under the bus out so they can take over the club.”

Silence came over them again.

“That’s a pretty bold accusation.” Toni swallowed.

“I’m telling you, they want FP to take the fall for something. They are waiting for an opportunity and they are actively plotting against him.

“Goes against our code.” Sweet Pea growled. “Who was it?”

“I couldn’t see one of them,” she admitted truthfully, “but I saw the other guy. It was Mustang.”

Toni exhaled a swoosh of air from her lungs. “Crap.”

“Watch your back, guys. I think shit’s gonna hit the fan soon.” Sage warned.

Sweet Pea rubbed his hands on his thighs anxiously. “Well… that didn’t answer anything. I just have more questions now.”

Sage smiled, tiredly. “Welcome to my life.”

They all were startled again when the door flew open, slamming into the wall. Joaquin stumbled in, looking around at the three of them. “Guys…” he said breathlessly. “You won’t believe what just happened.”

“What is it?” Toni stood up immediately, sensing his urgency.

“Jughead was just taken into custody by the police. He’s a suspect in the Blossom murder.”

Entire Work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441756/chapters/47562346

#sweet pea #riverdale #fanfiction #jughead #jughead jones #southside serpents #toni topez #serpents #the southside

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