#mike is me if I had the balls and guts to fight people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

Okay okay okay I have something. You are so good at writing tmnt so here it goes. What about... Make up sex? ;) I imagine how there has been a huge fight with their girl. So much so that the turtles thought it would lead to breakup. But the SO returns and it ultimately leads to some angsty action. Of course you can imagine it however you want too! Make up your own reasons if need be!!

As somebody who breathes angst this is truly fun. You didn’t specify a turt lad so I hope you don’t mind me choosing and going from there. Just cause I’m intrigued ima go with my orange boi.

TW: Angst/Feels/Arguments

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

His hands hurt so much. When you ball your fists for too long the tendons tend to protest, the digging of nails into palms stings.

Mikey doesn’t like how loud his head feels right now. He sits against the wall closest to his tv, your scent is surrounding him and it only serves to make him more frustrated and gutted. The two of you have never gone past discussion into full blow arguing. He doesn’t like to fight with you, he does enough fighting on a nightly bases anyways.

But you got stubborn and he got selfish. Voices got raised, things were said and each one got hurt. He knows he can’t keep you glued to his shell forever, he’s had to learn the hard way, that there’s a life above that you inhabit and people around he’ll never truly meet. He knows every detail about your home life, knows your mother’s maiden name, how your aunt likes to get drunk at the family reunions and spill gossip. He knows your childhood home’s street name, the first guy you kissed, the first girl you kissed. Every aspect of your life you have told him in confidence, in laughter, in tears.

But Mikey is never gonna be part of it. He can’t really meet your dad and have that ‘if you break her heart I’ll break your legs’ talk. He won’t bond with your mom over their mutual love of cooking and secretly become her confidant. Knowing all these people but never truly knowing them is something he accepts.

It’s you leaving for three months back home. Three months away from him, three months where you’ll be surrounded by nostalgia you miss and love. Where your family will ask about ‘any boyfriends?’ and you’ll have to fake laugh your way through it. Three months of you being amongst people you constantly miss.

Surrounded by normalcy.

And Mikey wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to say fuck it and face time you every morning and night, watch you be happy to be in your hometown and maybe even get a virtual tour of it...

But that little dark part in his brain calls him a freak and reminds him constantly that you’ll get tired of surrounding yourself in craziness, monsters, end of the world scenarios etc. It just can’t seem to allow him to be happy for you. So the entire thing had ended in a fight, where dumb regretful things had been spat and you had marched off pissed and he had remained here equally pissed.

His brothers think he doesn’t get mad, they think he holds himself together through sheer ignorant bliss but it’s never been the case. Cause you’ve seen fire in his pretty blue eyes, you’ve seen those same very pretty blue eyes turn red with tear, you’ve seen so much of what he hides behind his laughter.

And fuck, three months of you away?!

Mikey pushes his knees up against his chest and sighs. His phone hasn’t made a noise despite his efforts to try and call you after he has calmed down. He debated going to your house and apologizing or at least going for a more calmer approach in expressing why this had left him so triggered. He wants to make sure this hasn’t pushed you both to your end, another nagging little thought that hasn’t quite shut its mouth.

Had this been the end? Had you walked out in a fury of frustration and decided this is it? Would you seize all communication and just erase the memories of him and your time together?

He’s hurting himself, he’s also getting angrier. This is stupid, he’s been stupid and immature and so are you for walking off!

It’s two hours before he decides to get up and toss his phone and try to consume his surrounding in order to relax. Mind over matter and all it’s wonderful bullshit. He doesn’t want to leave his room cause he knows the others must’ve heard.

He’s four hours deep into a shooting game when Raph pokes his head in with some food. He doesn’t look up, cause he knows Raph wants to be a good big brother and talk to him but he doesn’t want to when he’s one unfortunate mishandling away from crying. He lets him sit with him, watch him play and run a little bit of commentary that actually makes him smile just a teeny bit.

Even when Raph gets up and runs a large mitt over his head and tells him ‘broads are just emotional, she’ll come around’ he tries his best to not let his eyes betray him. Even when Raph gives the top of his head a kiss and pats his shell, he tries his best to keep it together.

It’s around 4am when he decides to look for his phone, chucked somewhere near his bed and maybe not broken. He finds it under his bed, screen a little cracked and one text message reading ‘r u awake?’ By you, it was sent twenty minutes ago and somewhere between debating calling or texting he hears the curtain in his room move.

You’re there.

Face two parts unreadable and a good topping of frustrated. Your face is bare, a mixture of sleepwear and winter clothing that clearly shows you had tried to sleep it off but couldn’t. “I just saw this... sorry” Mikey wonders if that sorry is related to the unread text or more so this mess. You look away, the energy around you can be felt. That upset way you bite the inside of your lip, how you cross your arms and run through every possible way of starting your side of things to say.

“Why are you really mad about me going back home?” You can’t meet his gaze and Mikey is thankful because he feels an oncoming headache. “I dunno man...” He sets his phone on his makeshift night table and runs his hands through his face, mask being taken off with the motion.

“That’s not an answer, you’re mad about something and I want to know” This time you do look and Mikey’s playing with the shoe string on one of the sneakers that hangs from the bunk bed. He chooses to stay quiet because if he does say something, what are the chances that you’ll understand?

“Mike, talk to me” He huffs a bitter laugh, ‘Mike’ is the he’s in trouble name. But he feels more obstinate than ever because why talk?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. “I didn’t come back in the freezing cold to actually work through this if you aren’t going to throw me a bone at least-” Your tone is a mix of exasperation and sadness. “You go back and you forget about me” Mikey cuts through.

You furrow your brows at his statement. “What?” You take a few steps but he side steps you and that somehow cuts you. “You go back home and you realize it’s better to be in a normal environment that isn’t New York, in the sewers, with me-“ He motions to all of him. “And all the crazy shit we do” He glares, not necessarily at you but more so at all of this, the current state of affairs.

Running a frustrated hand through your hair you try to settle your thoughts. “You can’t jump to a conclusion like that and you know it, I’m not skulking off back home and ghosting you! And frankly it fucking hurts you think of me like that” You reach for him because Mikey can’t be still for five seconds if his life depended on it, but he grabs your hands and refuses to let you lull him with your touch. “It’s not a conclusion it’s a friggin possibility! Do you see us actually being endgame in all this shit!” He grips your wrists, you want to get through to him but he’s lost in that terrible negative mindset.

“We both aren’t mind readers! But trust me that leaving you is nowhere on my list of achievements” You manage out of his grip and grasp his face. “You are being unfair and stubborn as fuck but I love you okay?” Your voice sounds almost angry, angry at the very idea of living in a world where you and him don’t coexist together.

“I can’t even marry you! I can’t even knock you up!” Another bitter laugh escapes him, he knows your parents would die for some grandkids. Why is he so different, why does he have to be so fucking different he wonders bitterly.

“I don’t care, I don’t fucking care about a piece of paper or screaming babies, I care about you and I want you and I’m fucking happy with you stop sabotaging it” You press your hands to his hard plastron and scowl. “Stop lying to me then! Don’t pity lie at me when I know you want all that shit” He frowns, eyes watery and not caring if he wakes everybody up in the Lair.

Mikey’s ready for the rant of a life time but then you have to go and kiss him.

Kiss him hard, kiss him with rage bubbling on the skin of your lips. He can taste your words, taste every way you would’ve shut down his words with basic truth and facts. You pull away, forehead still pressed to his and you mutter against his lips. “You’re so fucking insufferable, shut up and listen to me” Your eyes are watery as is, hands at his neck to keep him at eye level.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much” You take a shuttering inhale, fingers skimming up towards his cheeks. Mikey can only watch you, take in every detail he’s been obsessed with for so long. You’re so beautiful to him, even when your angry crying, yelling at him to open his eyes. You’re warm and real in front of him, against his body. You watch his eyes go from that calm before the storm into the aftermath.

He’s so real to you, so lovely and he doesn’t seem to understand it.

There’s a pause. A mere ten second reprieve where only silence and breathing remain. Mikey feels your hands slowly slide down his body, nails scratching his sides. You keep your eyes on him, a hand slides into his shorts, index finger mapping out the slit that encompasses his most intimate part. Mikey shudders, sensitivity racking his body at your touch. He walks you up against a wall, a hand on your neck and another finding it’s way into your own pants.

He teases you, just as you tease him. Knees buckle when he pushes your lips apart and feels your moistening folds. There’s already a bump where your touching him and the way he’s tensing gives way to how he’s trying to hold himself in. “Come on, come on” You weren’t aware just how hard you’ve been breathing till you speak. Mikey’s mouths falls open, eyes closing as he drops down into your warm awaiting hand. You stroke him, teasing the flesh of his head just to make him buck and recapture your lips. His own finger finds its way in you, stretching and making your breath hitch.

The only reason you both pull away is to tear at one another’s clothes, an easy accomplishment when Mikey’s got just his shorts. He isn’t soft with your clothing either, yanking and nearly tearing, his on his knees pulling off your underwear. Your scent hits him and he’s gone, trapped in all that is you. He inhales sharply as he gets back on his feet, arms hooking under your thighs as he picks you up.

You both land on the bed, a huff escaping you and a grunt when Mikey feels you push him so you can straddle him. You don’t quite finesse this, it’s not your usual seductive ways that leave him a mess. It’s rough, there’s still frustration lingering in the air and Mikey’s okay with it because he knows he might go to rough if he runs the show.

So you do.

Sinking down on his hard cock with a long guttural moan. Mikey digs his fingers onto the plush skin of your bottom, just enough to make you sit on his cock and relish it. Eyes closed he just basks, the tightness, the wetness, the warmth. His eyes flutter open when he feels your palms on his plastron, firm and with purpose. His hands know already, they go up and rest on your waist and he swallows a churr when your hips begin to move fast and hard.

That rhythmic slapping of flesh, your rear hitting his lap on each thrust down. Mikey can’t stop churring, eyes on your own or slipping down to your beautiful breasts bouncing. You notice and lean forward, he buries his face between him, arm going around your waist as he lifts his hips to help you cross that line. The sweat of your skin is on the top of his tongue as he sucks a bruise onto your breast, you’re tightening up so much, cussing and begging for him.

You both can’t stop moaning, once you’re cummin and Mikey follows closely behind. He holds you close to him as you ride out the sensations, tightly secured against his strong body, held and loved. You’re a broken record of ‘I love you’s and so is he, filling you up and up.

Collapsed on top of him, chest heaving, you still feel the strength in his arms as he hugs you to him. You bury your face on his neck, body shaking with sobs as he whispers he’s sorry over and over as he kisses your shoulder, neck and head.

You say it too, against his skin.

Where you wish you could stay everyday.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michelangelo #mikey tmnt #tmnt mikey #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #Mikey #Michelangelo #smut prompt #ns*w #ask #bumbleburn

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real-fanta-sea · 3 years

Note

Hello!!💚😊 do you still write kiss requests?? For Trevor/Mike ship and can I request something for 'bury the hatchet' mission with 11 or 57 number? I really love to see how Trevor saves Michael so😍😱

Thank you!💗

Hi sweetie! I'm sorry it took me so long, but it's finally here! Find it under "keep reading". If you prefer AO3, click here to read the fic. tw mentions of violence, kissing, kinky old men

"Get the boyfriend!"

"The WHAT?" Michael huffed out, along with a small puff of fog, as he crouched behind a thumb stone that felt too small to shield him. Of all things, why would they think they were dating? Like, that were the signs? Can't two guys share a trailer, a bed, a shower, a coffee mug, cigarettes, whiskey bottles and take-out receipts without arising suspicion? Can't two consenting adults watch each other read a porn magazine while relieving stress? Is it a sign of marital status to carry someone over a threshold while high on... whatever was Trevor high on? Michael cringed inwardly as a bullet grazed the top of the stone and made the falling snowflakes find refuge on the back of his neck. There was no time to mull that over. The crunch of footsteps and angry commands closed in, and he had to act fast.

He did the math frantically. His pistol still had 16 bullets ready to be planted into the brains of whoever he aimed at. There was another full magazine in his jacket pocket. Good. Michael peered above the top of the stone, now chipped into a monstrous row of teeth. The silence has been ruptured by the sound of breaks. Judging by the urgent stomping, there were far more than 33 men to bury that night. Michael ducked and ran towards a statue of an angel reclining over another piece of stone, big enough to hide him under its sorrowful wings. Finally able to stretch out, he took a deep breath and cracked his neck. He remembered the last time he had to fight off so many people and cursed when he shot a look back towards Brad's grave. At that time, there was no blanket and a cup of hot coffee waiting for him. At that time, dance macabre was all too real for comfort. But it was not a time to die; he convinced himself. Not in the freezy shithole called North Yankton. Not without a fight.

Just when he peered over the side of the sculpture, the world around him slowed down into a strange state of blue trance. He shot four men in a matter of seconds, retreated to his cover, and resurfaced again behind a different piece of stone. All he could feel was a stinging sensation on his face as he collapsed with snowflakes, a soft crunch of virgin snow below his feet mixed with the recoil of the gun in his hand, going off in time with the rhythm of his heart. He wouldn't have minded if the state of focus and tranquillity remained his primary state of being. To be faster than others, not feeling the bullets licking skin and flesh off of his body, killing without remorse - he missed such balance in his retired life.

Not many voices filled the graveyard when Michael finally threw his pistol away and snatched a gun from a random unlucky henchman whose blood was rapidly cooling on the ground. The relative silence unnerved him. The math didn't add up, and even when he cracked his neck again to relieve some of the pressure, the popping sound didn't fill the space enough to be comfortable again. Only when he ascended from the aisle, ducking, eyes darting all over the dark place, he noticed how fast he was breathing and that his hands were shaking.

Fuck it, he thought to himself, that one extra burger, coke and pizza every now and then, when he couldn't sleep, did hurt after all. Maybe Mandy was right to nag at him for smoking too. Before he could make an oath to himself to start exercising once he got away from the situation. Before he could even turn around in awe, the bushes behind his back rustled and gave birth to a furious Chinese man. The newborn didn't spare a second to hit the back of Michael's head with something Mike later identified as the butt of his gun and knocked the dumbfounded Michael unconscious.

It didn't take long for Michael to wake up, but the world was swirling around him into a smudged black-eye blue mush, and it reeked of puke. There was a horrible echo of voices nagging in his throbbing head, and it took a lot of him to recognize two twitching shadows dragging him through the muddy snow. For a split second, he felt weightless as the shadows threw him inside a gaping black space and the thunder of the van door being shut made him shriek in pain.

For what felt like an eternity, his existence was reduced to watching a streak of orange light running towards his chest and vanishing before it reached his head. Michael scrutinized the small cut out in the wall that divided his dark cell and the cockpit of the van and marvelled at the sounds emerging with every blink of the orange light. The slight rocking of the vehicle only served to make him more nauseated in between his scattered thoughts. Why haven't they killed him was among the first coherent questions his brain was capable of producing. Why would they want him alive? The light blinked away rapidly and brought about the noise of radio static and two voices fighting over what frequency to tune in. Get the boyfriend. Why was the question coming back then?

Michael groaned as the deafening sound of Channel X pinned him to the ground again. Boyfriend. He recognized the music. He remembered. They thought Trevor would pay whatever price they demanded in exchange for his safety. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, and he didn't try to stop it for a change. How they could still think that after witnessing their bickering at Brad's grave, Michael wasn't entirely sure. What he knew with paralyzing certainty was that no one was coming to save him, and it was Trevor's fault. In between the blinks of light and throbbing pain, his memories ran back to the moment Brad unknowingly shielded Trevor as it often did in the past ten years and wished once again Dave either pulled the trigger a second later or aimed for Michael's head.

He didn't know whether to be annoyed or thankful when screeching breaks interrupted his daydreaming session. Judging by the high-pitched angry Chinese, they either had some very unfortunate flat tyre, or they ran into trouble. Or, which was something Michael didn't want to think about, they arrived at their lair and discussed the best way to make a chop suey from his guts. He shifted slightly, shaking off the inappropriate thoughts his mind offered him. It did him no good to think about alternate universes where all his problems were gone, and he was roasting under Los Santos sun by his pool.

The sliding door opened, and Michael was immediately hit into the face with a sluggish white light and smell of iron. Just one glance at the tiles plastered all over the walls, hooks idly clinging in the draft, and he knew exactly where they were. A shiny tray with a handsaw grinned right back at him from the centre of silhouettes of men. Oh god, he was so screwed. So fucked over. He made a mental note to kick Trevor in the balls when... IF... he sees him again. A pair of hands grabbed his ankles and pulled him out of the car, his head bouncing off the ground when it hit ice-cold concrete. Michael shivered. Was it really all there was for him? Would the famous Michael Townley, the phantom of the north, end up minced into Flormart burgers? A curse escaped his lips when he imagined the limp, tasteless slice of pickle and an unnaturally orange slice of cheese tiredly melting on his flesh in someone's microwave. He could withstand any torture but that.

"Hey you, you are awake, aren't you?"

Michael winced inwardly and squinted his eyes against the bright light. "Oh, am I? I didn't know! Are you a doctor or something?"

There was a prompt leathern shoe planted into his face. Michael hissed upon contact, the smell of cheap shoe glue imprinting into his memory. So much for a well-meant, friendly sarcasm.

"Ok, I got it. I'll shut up."

"You better should, pig!" There were several snorts around him, obscured by the bright light. Michael's cheek throbbed. If he was a pig about to be made into bacon strips, he swore to take them with him. The guy who kicked him circled around like a shark.

"Now, tell me. Where does your boyfriend keep the drugs?"

Michael just snickered and shrugged as best as his tied arms allowed. The shadows stepped closer, towering above him. He felt another kick; this time, the shoe bit into his ribs, making him hiss.

"ANSWER!"

A pair of hands yanked him onto his knees. The floor crushed into them, a painful reminder he should have picked up yoga when his wife told him so.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

The sole of the shoe pushed into the middle of his back, stretching his muscles to their capacity. Michael's forehead was pearled with sweat. He could barely breathe. Any further, and he was sure he would throw up.

"Do you think we are stupid?"

The pressure worsened. Michael gasped for air.

"We've seen him carry you over the threshold, and we know from a reliable source you share the bed with him,"

A picture of Ron shaking in the middle of a hostile office, surrounded by the same shadows, flashed through Michael's mind before he blinked it away. Another mental note was taken. Kick Ron's balls right after kicking Trevor's.

"AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO CLAIM YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE KEEPS HIS ASSETS WHEN WE KNOW YOU SQUAT ON HIS DICK EVERY NIGHT???"

"Believe it or not," Michael gasped and tried to turn just enough to look the bastard who stepped on him in the eye, "I don't know anything. Oh, and it's not me who squats; I am more of the top kind of guy."

It occurred to Michael the Chinese guy who led the interrogation had a strange sense of symmetry because before he knew it, he had another pulsating bruise spread over the other side of his ribs. He wanted to think the remark was worth it, even though his body told him otherwise.

"Hang that fag on a hook - let's see if he remembers with more blood in his brain."

For a second, Michael panicked. There were too many hands grabbing and groping him, turning him, and he remembered how he, as a little boy watched spiders do just that with flies in their webs, both horrified and fascinated. He has always considered himself a spider in such situations. Oh, how the turntables! He now was the fly, and the spider was walking away.

"HEY, WAIT!"

The hands kept him floating in the air, and the man stopped in his path, turning around.

"Hm? What is it?"

Michael's eyes rounded, even though he desperately tried to fight the trepidation. "You are terribly wrong about this. I am not his boyfriend, just an acquaintance. I have no idea how you guys are affiliated, but whatever this is about, it all runs down to money, right?"

The man folded his arms on his chest slowly, visibly taking pride in Michael's panic, but his thin lips kept shut.

"I'll pay you if you release me. Generous money, actually. That's what you guys want, right? That's what everybody wants."

The man took a few steps closer, right under one of the beaming tube lights. Michael gulped when he saw the grin on his handsome face. It took him a surprisingly low effort to come close to Michael and grab his jaw in a vice grip.

"Have your whining ever worked on anyone?"

Michael shook his head ever so slightly. He got a shark-like grin in response.

"What we want is to know where your lover, Trevor Phillips, keeps his merchandise and take what is contractually, thus rightfully ours. Tell us, and maybe we will let you go."

His eyes were as black as Trevor's when Michael last saw them, yet there was no shadow of affection in these. The man who looked at him was by all means already dead inside. The hand slipped away from his jaw, but Michael could still feel where his new friend left purple imprints.

"I thought so. Never mind, after the night spent upside down, I hope your point of view will change. HANG HIM!"

All of a sudden, there was a roar of an engine from somewhere above. Michael tried to locate the sound, but it glided away, much to his captors' disdain. There was a cacophony of stomping and foreign words bouncing off the walls, mixing in with the cry of sliding door and hum of the engine coming back.

"HEY!"

His voice was too weak against the noise. No one noticed him twitching; no one cared he was still there.

"HEY, MOTHERFUCKERS, WHAT'S GOING ON!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" was the answer from one of the men, along with a sting of a gunstock on his eye. Michael didn't need answers anymore, though, as the barking of shots and cries of mowed down men crept through the open door. Not so silently, he cursed Trevor for dragging him right into the middle of mafia wars, something he had no desire to see up close. Leaving him in the graveyard alone with a mob? One kick in the balls. Letting them kidnap him and hang him like a piece of ham? Two kicks in the balls. Letting the mafia kill him in a shoot out? Thousands of years of haunting Trevor and another kick in the balls as soon as they both reincarnate. Gunshots from outside closed in on him.

Michael tried to break free from the ropes but only managed to swing back and forth.

"Oh FUCK, I'm going to KILL HIM! YOU'RE SO DEAD, TREVOR!"

"MICHAEL!"

At first, Michael thought he was hearing things. In his state of panic, his brain couldn't get a grip of how the hell Trevor knew where to find him, let alone come and rescue him after he almost shot him. Then he thought that some kind of vessel must have busted in his head, for the familiar voice was accompanied by an even more familiar tall outline topped by a crown of ruffled dark brown hair. He couldn't help but blink rapidly a couple of times, dumbfounded in the middle of the slaughterhouse.

"JESUS, MIKEY!!!"

There were rushed steps, a sound of a gun falling to the ground, followed by two trembling hands cupping his face. Michael closed his eyes and relied on other senses to confirm his suspicion. First, there was a smell of late-night coffees, morning cigarettes, diesel fuel and cheap soap he bought for Trevor not so long ago. Second, there were two big hands, fingers brushing around the edges of his bruises in a way they did years ago when they both were different people, but somehow they did remember how to soothe him. Third, there was a deep-set voice trembling with worry whispering his name. And finally, when Michael opened his eyes again, there were the amber eyes, glazed, terrified and hurt. There was no doubt anymore. Trevor came back for him.

"Oh god, I was so fucking afraid!"

Michael couldn't keep angry when faced with the first shy tears welling in Trevor's eyes, but his ability to speak left him as they fell down and disappeared into the blackness of Trevor's shirt. So instead, he let Trevor's hands caress him, oddly at peace with the gentle touch on his face.

"To think I almost lost you again!" Trevor bit his lip. Something about the droplet of blood blooming under his teeth left Michael breathless. "I was so angry, infuriated much, yes, but then I imagined you laying there with Brad and..."

Trevor gazed into Michael's eyes with such urgency it immediately reminded him of their first kill. The fear mixed in with the red gleam in his eyes, the sense of irreparable, coming back from the past to haunt them. Lost in thought, Michael didn't register the swift movement right in front of him and was caught by surprise by a feeling of having his lips pressed against Trevor's.

They were hot, trembling, and tasted of cigarettes and blood, a mixture Michael desperately tried to forget about. Where they first gently touched his, as if they couldn't believe he was still alive and well, they pressed harder in mere seconds, making Michael's eyes flutter shut. It was difficult for him to admit, but Trevor's lips were the only drug Michael craved for long and lonely ten years. For once, he let his nagging reason get hushed by the shy movement of Trevor's lips, and all the hatred slipped his mind momentarily.

At length, Trevor broke the kiss, and still holding onto Michael's cheeks, he gently propped his forehead against Michael's. Michael let him take a break, listening to his shallow breathing, and their thoughts were buzzing almost audibly where their skin touched.

"Oh god, to think I almost lost you..."

"It's ok, T; I'm still hanging on."

"Yeah, but what if I didn't turn around and follow that convoy? What if they killed you?"

"You could say I would hang around for a bit, and then they would kick me out."

Trevor raised his head and furrowed a bit. "What's that with you and emphasize on hanging?"

Michael raised eyebrows at him and waited till the realization would dawn on Trevor. It took three seconds for Trevor's eyes to round and his mouth to form a perfect 'o'.

"Oh, yeah, uh, I see. Wait a moment, sugar."

Michael's feelings on Trevor holding a knife were usually on the border between panic and deep fucking rooted urge to run for the hills. When Trevor approached him and swung it around his face, Michael was momentarily inclined to the second option, twitching nervously under the cold gleam of the knife. Trevor eyed him with palpable exhaustion.

"Stop wiggling goddammit, do you want to get cut?"

Michael pouted at him.

"Hey, don't give me THAT face, pork chop! It wasn't MY idea to tie you up and hook you here!"

Trevor's knife slowly cut through ropes, murmuring as it bit through thick threads. The very tip brushed against Michael's leg, leaving goosebumps in the wake of its cold touch.

"But I have to say this is kinda hot, eh?" Trevor's grin was back, the brightest light in the room. "How about we try it again when we get back home?"

"What the FUCK are you talking about, Trevor?"

Trevor leant in, still grinning, his knife gliding against Michael's waist.

"I mean, I will send Patricia shopping,"

The knife dipped lower, slipping under Michael's shirt. He gasped, inwardly cursing for giving Trevor the tiniest bit of gratification.

"then I'll take some nice silk rope,"

The dull side of the blade ran through chest hair lush between trembling peaks of his nipples.

"tie you up and make some sweet, sweet love to you, cupcake!"

Trevor's lips were so close, his breath on Michael's lips again, who was petrified with anticipation. His heart hammered against the patch of goosebumps on his chest, and if the last bit of rope didn't snap and let him slide off the hook, Michael would have leaned in himself and stole that kiss. But, instead of the sweet release, he was sent to the cold ground head first, folding like a rag doll upon impact.

Not only Michael sustained another hit on his head, swearing and kicking around, not unlike the turtle Amanda bought for the kids and that he and Jimmy used to torture by putting it on its back, laughing about the way it tried to turn over, but it was Trevor who was laughing his lungs out, folded in half. Michael tried to stab him with a menacing glare, but it didn't help in the slightest. Gathering the last shred of strength, Michael scraped to his feet and balling fists full of Trevor's jacket, he threw them both against deadly green tiles.

Trevor's laugh died out soon after the impact, but the grin remained despite Michael pinning him down. At first, Michael's intention was to beat him up, partially to let the frustration out, partially to get revenge for the stolen kiss, but he was taken aback when Trevor's hands closed over his fists and squeezed gently.

"Whatcha gonna do, Mikey?" Trevor uttered in an irresistibly husky voice that sent shivers of excitement to all the wrong places, "Beat me for saving your life?" Michael growled.

"You fucking..." but the words he wanted to say got sucked back into the vortex of emotion running free in his ribcage. No, beating wasn't what Michael's mind supplied him with when it came to what to do with Trevor. He could barely resist the vivid pictures of Trevor, hair running down his slender back, undressing in front of him, leaving marks on his neck and long scratches speaking volumes about how Michael liked to celebrate their victories. And then, on that day, Trevor was there. Older, but just as tempting, daring, enclosing Michael in the smell of both freedom and slavery with each exhale. Michael took a deep breath. He couldn't help but give in to the craving.

Trevor yelped when Michael crashed his lips with his so hard their teeth clinked together. That was the thrill he wanted to relive, and as soon as Trevor's hands rested against his lower back, pulling him closer, Michael surged deeper and dared to brush his tongue against Trevor's. The choked moan he managed to draw out fueled his fingers in their haste, letting go of fabric and instead bury themselves into Trevor's hair, pulling him closer. Trevor's skin could have combusted any second with the heat it emitted, and Michael couldn't resist yanking him closer, eager to get burned once again.

"Mikey... Jesus Christ!"

Trevor could barely breathe, so much Michael could tell by the heaving of chest caught between the wall and his own body. He was proud of the trembling in Trevor's touch, of shallow breaths and flushed cheeks right in front of him. He still got it.

"What?" Michael grinned impishly and let one of his hands slide down Trevor's back and squeeze him. Trevor yelped in surprise but didn't try to wriggle out of the embrace and even giggled when Michael let his hand rest there. Trevor leaned in closer, his breath sending shivers down Michael's spine as it touched his ear.

"Let's go home, cupcake."

#trikey #gta 5 #trevor philips #michael de santa #real_fanta_sea.fic #kiss prompts

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 3 years

Text

The Forgotten - Part Six Return of the Nerd

Full story here

SMUT FO SHO MY BITCHES, CAUSE THATS HOW I DO!

Despite her failing protests Michelangelo personally escorted Aurora from the compound. She really had no choice in the matter, if she tried to fight him, she would attract unwanted attention and she’d be found out. Thankfully, Mikey didn’t seem too keen on bringing her to Bishop, he actually looked a little nervous as his eyes moved about the hallway seeming to keep her from full view of all cameras. But she had gotten what she wanted, confirmation of Bishop’s base, the one they had been searching for, for years. This was a good thing; it was a win in her eyes.

He walked her through the main gate making sure to keep his massive frame in front of the cameras and guards to shield her presence. This was all so surreal; so much had changed in the last few months. They went from trying to end her life to being unable to control their hormones like horny teenagers but still wary of her motives. She’d take it.

As they came to the edge of the compound’s boundaries Mikey stopped turning to look at the kunoichi. His large mitt palmed the side of Aurora’s throat before running up to cup her cheek. His rough thumb drug over her bottom lip and he let out a soft sigh which by the sudden bunch of his shoulder muscles was unexpected. His eyes scanned over her face and a look of contentment flash over his baby blues but morphed to concern. “Leo said you told him there’s something inside of us, all of us. What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, she let it out ready to give him some answers his overactive brain was so desperately in need of, “It looks like a tiny metal octopus, like smaller than an eraser head. It constantly moves so it’s difficult to locate inside the body and why we weren’t able to figure out how he’s been controlling you all. We only found out recently and by pure accident. If only we had Donnie…..”

“Donnie?”

Closing her eyes momentarily Aurora let out a heavy sigh and she looked up into his baby blues, “He’s your brother. He went missing almost four years ago, a year before you, Leo and Raph were taken.” Another deep breath, but she decided to keep the new formation of Donnie trying to return from him. If he was lying, which he had always been a horrible liar but just in case he grew some new skills since he was reprogramed Aurora kept that little nugget of info close to her chest.

Mikey cocked his head rubbing the back of head, she could see him wince a little and his eyes fog over. “He’s a genius….purple.”

“Yeah, you’re right….Mike did that hurt you to think of that?”

“It felt like someone was trying to drill into the back of my skull. Fuckin burns man.”

Aurora moved quickly around to the back of the terrapin and pressed her palm to the back of his bald crown. There, she fucking felt it, the flutter of something under his flesh caught between his skull and his scalp. She reached for his hand and yanked it back to replace hers. “There! Do you feel it?!”

It took him a few seconds to feel the movement but when he did Mikey’s body jolted with surprise. “What the hell? Fuck!” His fingers cupped it trying to grab at it. “There is something in me! Cut it out! Jesus get it out!”

“I-I can’t Mike, that’s your skull, that’s a little more important than your shin or arm. It could get infected I don’t want to lose you to something as stupid as that. Besides its dark and I have nothing to grab it. My fingers would be covered in blood and that thing would slip free.”

“Fuck, it’s gone.” He began to touch his skin trying to find it again.

“The skull maybe blocks the transmission a little? I’ve seen your x-rays; you guys have thick skulls. Maybe the mutagen? I don’t know…..” Slowly she took his hand in hers pulling them to her cheeks, the gesture stopped his frenzy. “Why didn’t you turn me into Bishop? I was at your mercy and you didn’t give me over to him. You could have easily done so?”

“Your eyes.” He cupped her cheeks and locked eyes, “They’re the windows to the soul. The first time we ‘met’ I could see the sadness and the happiness all at the same time. You were legit happy to see us and then it morphed to sadness then terrified. If we had never met before, which we were meant to believe, I would have expected you to be terrified, which is what most people experience when they first see us. But you were happy, relieved even. Fuck, you even knew our god damn names. Like, I was shooketh! When we got back to base and I confronted Bishop. Bishop told me you were a kunoichi, you were a seductress using your womanly wiles to make us doubt the mission and must have gotten our names from a captured soldier. But your emotions were genuine, so I had trouble brushing it off. Then Raph had his little meet and great with you. You didn’t try to take him, just trying to talk. And then Leo, you could have easily killed him after you sent him to dream land…..awesome job by the way…..but you let him fucking go. What kind of enemy lets their enemies go? You didn’t hurt either of them. When I saw you in the hallway and the way you looked at me when I pulled you into that room, I could see happiness again. No one is happy to see us, not even Bishop. Right now, I can see love.”

Aurora could see tears begin to form at the corner of his eyes and her body responded following suit. “You were always so intuitive Mikey. I do, I love you, I love all of you. I miss you so much. I wish I could take you home with me.”

“I know, I know not until you get this slippery little fucker out of us. Plus, I need to stay here and make sure my bros are ok. He cut up Raph to punish Leo for not fulfilling the mission last night.”

“He did what?! That’s Raph’s blood on your hands?! …..Mission?”

“Calm down he’s fine, nothing life threatening. Leo was supposed to get loose and tell us where you were, but he never reported in. I guess Leo found something a little more entertaining.” He chuckled half heartily. “I don’t blame him…”

“Speaking of, how are you doing down there champ?”

“Blue balls for sure, but I’ll be fine nothing I can’t take care of in a little bit. If it wasn’t for all the security a few hundred feet away I’d have that pretty little pussy of yours stretched over this cock until you were hoarse from screaming my name.”

Heat flushed her checks and felt the warmth of new arousal bloom in her abdomen at the thought. “I’d let you too. But I need to get out of here before they get suspicious. I mean when you came down that hallway you looked determined. Where were you heading?”

Mikey’s eyes widened, “Fuck! I was going to get more bandages! I gotta go! I’ll see you soon Blondie!” and just like that he was gone, running towards the base at top speed. As he reached the main yard he began weaving around and jumping over bodies until he was a speck entering back into the compound.

It took Aurora less time to head back to her bike still being careful of motion detectors, she took to the streets and as she was a good distance away, she slowed her bike to a stop and pressed the com in her ear.

“White skull to base.”

It took a few minutes, but the familiar voice of Casey came over the com his mouth apparently filled with food. “This is Base, go ahead White Skull.”

“We have confirmation. Disneyland has been located.”

She didn’t go home right away, the talk of Donnie made Aurora take a detour to the lair. She informed Casey of her next stop and made her way below the streets. Everything was how she left it, dark and empty. Lights began to flicker on illuminating the large space; she moved to the kitchen pulling out a water and cracked it open downing the entire contents in one motion. She moved slowly eyeing the closed door to Donnie’s lab and decided that was where she wanted to be.

The door opened without a sound and she slipped inside keeping the arch in view. She willed it to come alive with power, to give her back Donnie. As she reached the piece of vexing machinery her fingers ran over the smooth edges finding them surprisingly warm. The lair was naturally cool due to the depth it laid so for the metal to be warm was odd. She moved to the controls and looked for any activity, lights coming alive under the key of the board, a flickering on the screen indicating any type of activity? Anything……anything of Donnie……

Minutes turned to hours, but she remained glued to her spot. Something in her gut told her to stay, not to leave the lair, not yet. Swiveling in his specially designed chair Aurora picked up a small device on Donatello’s desk and spun it around in her hands. It was glass, a cube to be exact, the reflective qualities were gorgeous, a prism effect. It was a light he had been working on, powered by the warmth from one’s hands. It only took a few moments for the cube to begin to flicker with the variety of colors of a rainbow. The longer she held it the brighter it got. When it reached the desired brightness, she placed it back on his work bench and stared into the shifting hues.

He had yet to perfect the device, it only held the charge for an hour or two, but he was certain he was about to have a breakthrough with the conversion of power. Something with the helix bonds or whatever. She knew he’d get it; she just didn’t think it would take this long.

She began to doze mesmerized by the lit cube. Her eyes half closed unfocused on anything she was suddenly aware the light was getting brighter? Did he fix something about it before he disappeared? Blinking her eyes rapidly she focused on the cube finding it like how it should be, dulling with time. Then what was that bright light?

The sounds of electricity crackling began to rise in volume in his lab along with the pulsing of light she had mistaken from the cube. The source now tore her gaze from Donnie’s work bench to the very much active arch. The light grew in intensity nearly blinding her as Aurora stood from her seat. She shielded her eyes with her arms and watched the arch snap and flicker with power.

A circle began to open within its circumference swirling between a greyish color and a bright blue. Then it started to fluctuate, and a figure began to form inside the growing vortex. The lines were fuzzy keeping the picture unclear, but her heart jumped and clenched with anxiousness at the forming figure. It had to be, it just had to be.

Without warning a burst of energy blew from the vortex sending Aurora back with its unexpected force. She toppled over his chair and into a stack of computer parts scattering them across the floor and Aurora on her ass. She quickly got to her feet and found the arc now stable giving her a perfect view of the genius. There was no flickering now, no waves of misaligns data, just a clear as day view of Donatello and it was glorious.

With unsure steps she made her way around the new mess on the lab floor but kept every sense, every ounce of her concentration on the tall missing terrapin staring back at her through the newly working portal.

She didn’t know when she had started crying but her cheeks were soaked and her voice unsure, but she called out, “D-Don?”

Donnie face broke out into an exuberant smile and he reached down for what looked like a bag and hoisted it over his broad shoulder. His left leg rose and slipped through the portal falling onto the cement floor of his lab and the rest of his body followed suit until he was living, breathing, real flesh and bone standing a few excruciating feet away from the trembling woman.

His tall frame was dressed in new clothes, his legs covered in properly fitted grey slacks with expensive looking custom black boots on his massive feet, old gadgets were gone replaced with smaller fancier items. His backpack was missing but his goggles remained but looked to have gotten a major upgrade. She could see his bo was still there also looking newer. Gone were his broken turtle glasses replaced with black rimed frames that better fit his face making the nerd look more sophisticated. Did he look bigger? The clothes were throwing her off. Where the fuck has he been? The words were on her lips, but she couldn’t move, all her screaming muscles cried out to touch him but she was paralyzed by shock. Four years, it had been, four years since she had seen him in the flesh.

The heavy leather duffle was set down and Donatello looked her up and down and he let out a long, very happy shuttering sigh. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

His voice finally broke her from her paralysis, and she stormed forward leaping into his arms praying she wasn’t hallucinating but the solid body that caught her was very much there and very much real. He was home.

Her hands ran over him just to make sure, up and down his arms, over his neck to the top of his muscled shoulders. Her fingers worked the first few buttons free and felt the familiar scars and gouges of his chest nearly sobbing at the realization of his return.

“You’re here, you’re really here!”

“I am, god, it took so long but I’m here.” His finger hooked under her chin so their eyes locked. Purple and brown both flooded with happy tears. “I’ve missed you.” His lips found hers, soft at first growing with enthusiasm as Aurora responded with vigor.

As their mouths engaged and reengaged in desperate collisions Aurora began to finish stripping the genius of his fancy shirt. Her fingers pulled the fabric from his shoulders, down his arms until he was free. To her delight she was right; Donatello had been working on his fitness while he had been stripped from his family. Donnie had been no weakling by any means, the purple banned terrapin could easily crush a skull with his bare hands but he had bulked up in his time away. Eager fingers ran along the ridges of the solid definition squeezing hard with appreciation.

Their mouths broke free pulling in gulps of air and Aurora’s moved to his chiseled jaw line nipping at the scales until he was panting.

“Don” she mewled between open mouth kisses down his long throat, “Donnie……D……Donatello.” The more she moaned his name the louder he crooned until he reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it free of her body in one fluid motion.

“Aurora.” He moaned cupping one breast with his free hand. Gently he squeezed and rolled the fabric over the mound finding the bud beneath peek quickly. His finger caught the bra and pulled it down releasing a breast to his gaze. With a heave Donnie lifted her higher so his mouth could cover the hot flesh sucking and nipping until her could feel the fabric of her pants dampen with her arousal against his plastron. “God, you smell divine. I want to taste you but I don’t think I can wait.”

There was so much to discuss, so much he didn’t know about. Donnie had no idea his brothers were no longer with the resistance and under Bishop’s control but he looked so happy in this moment and truth was so was Aurora. She would wait to break his heart, they would take this moment, they both needed it. It was a happy reunion and she was sure there would be more now with Donnie back. Gripping his cheeks she ground against him, “Then don’t.”

Donatello wasted no time and brought her over to his abandoned desk shoving everything from its surface. He dropped her down and yanked her boots and pants free of her body to begin fumbling with his belt. Aurora’s hands pushed them from the buckle and worked them free with trained ease. The button and zipper were next, teeth opening quickly but making sure not to harm the precious cargo beneath. When the massive erection sprung free of its confines Aurora’s hands were quick to gather the throbbing flesh in both palms.

The connection with hot flesh against her expert hands made Donnie groan in bliss. His hips shifted making his cock slide through her fingers and she gripped it firmly getting a shuttering sigh from the genius. Her finger found the dripping helm gathering the moister and ran the pad of her finger down the underside of his length staying with the pulsing vein. A hiss pulled through clenched teeth followed by a throaty call of her name. Aurora leaned back spreading her thighs giving him full view of her soaked folds.

His eyes blew wide at the sight and leaned forward grabbing her right thigh hoisting it up over his shoulder while pressing her back on the cold table. Reaching between them Donatello palmed his length running the spongy head through her folds drenching himself in her scent and essence. Donnie rumbled low closing his eyes to push the head of his cock just past her opening. He stilled at the tightness and the sound of Aurora’s hitch in breath. Rocking slightly he sheathed himself an inch before withdrawing nearly pulling free of her body.

“D-Donnie….please”

His eye opened looking down at his kunoichi, her face was beautifully flushed, chest heaving and her lips parted with rough breaths. Still only one breast freed from it fabric prison Donnie reached down to free the other. His large hands covered both mounds and the mutant eased more of himself into her, slowly, until every last inch of him was engulfed in the sweet wet heat of Aurora.

Both let out a shaky sign at their long past due union and Donnie leaned down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. He pushed forward again and the pressure of his girth and length made the woman beneath him mewl, arching and twisting to get him to move.

“Patience Rora, it’s been far too long since I’ve had you.” Slow and deliberate he began to withdrawal tilting himself so he would drag across the roof of her canal. “…far too long.” Reluctantly his hands left her reddened breasts and moved to her hips snapping his own forward with deliberate intention of making Aurora more vocal. He was rewarded pleasantly when her head snapped back at the sudden reentry and a whimpering moan of his name erupted from her throat. It encouraged the deprived terrapin further and Donnie repeated the process at an agonizingly slow pace until she was pleading with him to fuck her.

Aurora reached up to grab the rim of the genius’s plastron and she pulled him down, her mouth finding his hungrily. Lips parted, tongues wound together and the long lost familiar taste of the genius invaded Aurora’s senses like a barreling freight train. It came and she sobbed into his mouth but didn’t’ break the dance.

The pained sound didn’t startle Donnie but he did pull her closer removing all space that was between them. “I’m sorry.” He pleaded between each drive of his hips. “I’m so sorry.” With each breathless apology his rhythm picked up rutting into the kunoichi with fevered abandon.

His mouth disconnected with hers traveling down to her throat nipping and sucking making sure to leave marks. It had been years since he had seen his own brand on her skin and he was determined to leave enough so each time she looked in the mirror these next few days he would be the only thing on her mind.

Aurora rocked into each plunge of his length whimpering with each strike into her depths. This was so much different than the other day. When she had Leo it was him physically but Leo wasn’t there mentally; he was in his head locked away but not present in the act, maybe to some extent but she couldn’t be sure just yet.

Donatello was here, all of him; mind body and soul and it made the reunion much more intense. As he drove her to the precipice her hands groped at the dense muscles of his arms dragging him back into her. She was desperate for every inch of him, every drop she was prepared to receive.

She could feel it, the beginnings of her peek. It started slow like an over flowing sink, the tingling sensation of her climax rolled in her cunt moving to the stretched lips of her labia swallowing his pumping cock.

Donnie growled feeling her walls started flutter around him, “Are you going to cum for me? I’ve been dre-ahh-aming of his moment for almost five years now. How many times I’ve imagined you under me to give myself a little piece.” His hips picked up in speed to help her along chasing his own in the process. “Cum.” He demanded. “Cum for Donnie.”

With his command it rolled up her belly and spread like wild fire as Aurora toppled over her peek. Her climax overtook her body tensing, arching into him and she screamed. Open mouthed echoing into the once vacant room she came undone around him.

“F-f-uck, so tight…..I’m gonna…….” One, two, three more pistons of his hips and Donatello drove forward one last time anchoring himself as far as her body would allow. His beak nudged Aurora’s head to the side to expose her throat and his teeth latched onto the slender column to hold his lover steady as he gave her his release. His cock pulsated painfully and finally erupted with rich ropes of his ejaculate flooding her insides. With each ebbing flow of his climax Donnie rocked into her body with small shallow movements until every drop of his seed was deposited into her womb.

It took a few minutes for both to calm down, clinging to each other unwilling to disconnect just yet. He was still seated within her as her fingers ran along the top of his shell in slow soothing motions. She didn’t want to move, she just wanted to enjoy being close to Donnie, he was back, real. His smell was soothing, and his slowing heart beat that thudded against his plastron would easily lull her to sleep. But now it was time for questions, time for answers and he needed to know about his brothers.

Aurora’s fingers moved to his skull and moved along the back to run down the base of his spin that transitioned into his carapace. He shuttered at the sensation and finally leaned up to look her in the eyes.

“Hi.” He whispered ghosting his lips over hers.

“Hey yourself, nerd.”

His brown eyes moved over Aurora’s flushed features taking her in, really looking her over for the first time in four years. He could she was happy, and sated for that matter but there as something else in those violet eyes. Then it hit him, they usually moved in pairs, one of his brothers should have been in her company. “Why are you here alone? Are they at the base?”

She knew who Don was referring too and shifted under him. “Don…there is something I need to tell you.”

Donnie’s lazy smile lowered his afterglow forgotten. Slowly he pulled from Aurora’s depths and helped her from the table. His lips pressed in a thin line. “No, please don’t tell me……..they’re…….”

Aurora quickly grabbed for his face not wanting him to finish the sentence. “No! No, they’re not.” She watched his tense body relax at the knowledge his brothers were not dead. “But…they fell under Bishop’s control. Over three years ago Bishop set up an elaborate plan to capture them, you as well if you were with us. He tricked us with false information from a faulty lead and trapped them in an electrified cage. We weren’t able to get to them in time before he stole them away. We barely made it out with our lives as it was. It broke me, broke us, I don’t think the resistance ever fully recovered from the loss of you all. Casey and I ran into them a few months ago for the first time since losing them after trying to confiscate a tech truck that they were overseeing. Leo…Leo nearly killed me. They didn’t know who I was.” Her finger ran over the scar on her abdomen. “But that meeting triggered something in them. All three of them were then drawn to me; I’ve had rather intense interactions with each of them since then.”

She watched the emotions run across his face; confusion, anger, sadness and finally acceptance. “We’ll get them back. I promise I’ll work day and night to continue my work on how he’s controlling them. We’ll find them, bring them home, I didn’t work my ass off for four years and across several dimensions to not see my brothers again.”

“That’s the other thing Don, we found it.”

“Found it?” He parroted tilting his head in confusion.

“What Bishop puts in his victims to control them. It’s back at the base at R & D for analysis. It looks like a tiny octopus. We just need to figure out the ‘how’ now, and cut the communication and…. fuck…. we found Bishop’s allusive base tonight too.”

Donnie cupped her checks and pressed another life stealing kiss to her mouth. With a pop he pulled away with a toothy grin. “You have been rather successful without us.”

Eyes closed she savored his taste licking her lips, he still drank coffee. They had that where he was? “It took us a bit but you came back just in time to give us a win.” Then her violet eyes snapped open and her palm pressed against his chest applying pressure until the mutant fell into his computer chair with a grunt. She then climbed back on top the genius’s lap and gripped the sides of his plastron looking him square in the eyes. “Now genius…..spill it, where the FUCK have you been?”

His hands went back to her hips and let out a sigh, “That night when I disappeared I had an epiphany; I came down here with an idea that this thing could help us.” His long arm gestured to his most recent ride home and returned to her lower back to rub the pads of his fingers along her still exposed flesh. “I was working to use it to access different dimensions….eventually: the nexus, new worlds but what if I used it for a simpler purpose? Move our soldiers from base to a target location to utilize the element of surprise? It would lower the chances of casualties by 30%. I was just going do a test honestly but I must have hit the wrong the button and found myself sucked into the arch and in a new world a very strange new world.”

“How strange?”

“Like another version of my brothers and I strange.”

Aurora’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “More mutant turtles? Like you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Yes I know, it was rather a large shock for me let me tell you. I dropped right into their lair right on top of another Michelangelo. They looked a little different than us, shorter, no clothes besides leather obi’s, knee and elbow pads. Younger versions with their Master splinter still alive, same dynamic though, with Leonardo still as leader. Their Donnie was brilliant; making miraculous things with trash, a very resourceful terrapin in deed. He had made a battle shell, a shell sub and a sewer slider, plus others. Anyways, naturally they were rather distressed seeing my tall ass drop in on them in their home unannounced. After a few hours of telling them my story, and talking about my own brothers and their similarities, Donnie and his brothers agreed to help me get home. As you can see it took longer than we thought it would, finding the right components and a power source had proved more challenging than anticipated. Then finding the right coordinates proved another hurdle to overcome. I got here on accident so it was trial and error until I saw you the other day through the portal. It was the most glorious sight I had ever seen but the power course failed under the strain, which is why I couldn’t come through. We needed to reinforce it to support the transdimensional pull from the other dimensions trying to break through. After we fixed that problem and your face appeared clear as day on the other side I knew we had gotten it right.”

She looked at him absentmindedly running her palms over his exposed biceps, another dimension with more mutant turtle brothers? How many more she wondered quickly before shaking herself from the thought. “Did they have their own Bishop?”

“Yes, actually they do, and strangely enough as Donnie and I were working one night he confessed his own trip to another dimension or terrible future, he wasn’t sure. It was around our timeline and age; I guess their Donnie had disappeared without a trace as well. Mikey had lost an arm, Raph his eye and Leo his entire eye sight. Casey had passed and the villain was shredder. He had enslaved the entire world killing master Splinter in the process which threw a massive wedge between Leo and Raphael, a very violent wedge that kept them apart for years.”

“Fuck….I…”

“There’s more…… they managed to defeat Shredder with Donnie’s help but Leo, Raph and Mikey perished in the fight. It happened years ago and it still gives him nightmares. It would me too, watching my brothers die right in front of me. I don’t think I’d ever recover.” Wiping away a stray tear Donatello gripped her body tighter remembering she had to witness them all ripped from her. “All these years you had no idea what happened to me and then you lose the rest of them. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner. I promise we’ll get them back.”

She could see the anxiety rise in the genius as he began to process everything. How similar the scenarios were for both worlds and after everything he was still without most of his family. “Deep breaths Donnie, I need you level headed when we head back to base. I know we’ll get them back now that you’re back home. There’s a lot of work to be done and April and Casey are gonna be over the moon to see you. I’m so happy to see you.”

She was about to remover herself from his lap when she felt the head of his cock nudge against her entrance and soon found herself stuffed full of her genius once again. Donnie took Aurora two more times before he relinquished his hold on her and allowed her to dress.

Pulling her back into his embrace after watching Aurora tie her katana back to her hip Don pressed a few open mouthed kisses to her throat. “I’m sorry, I have four years of pent up need for you to work through. You’re not going to walk right for a week after I’ve had my fill.”

His voice dropped at the delicious threat making her shiver at his continued advances and lean into his plastron. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The run back to base was pleasant with Donatello right by her side. His long legs made him naturally faster which pushed her harder to keep up with the lanky turtle but the occasionally view of his perfectly round cheeks wasn’t a bad thing either. She couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into them later tonight.

“White skull to base.” Aurora called into her com as they moved to the final block of their trek home.

“This is base, please go ahead White Skull.”

“Will you tell The Curator and Meathead that I’m bring home a present.”

“Will do, ETA?”

“Five minutes.”

“See you then.”

Donnie slowed down looking at his kunoichi. “You’re not gonna tell them I’m coming?”

“I wanna see their faces when they lay eyes on you. I wanna keep that memory forever and put it with the same one we’ll get when your brothers return home.”

@imthegreenfairy88 @ravn-87 @alonia143 @tmntspidergirl @blossom-skies

#tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michaelangelo #the forgotten #part six #return on the nerd #aurora-the-kunoichi #self indulgent bullshit

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twiststreet · 3 years

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Comic book people trying to puzzle out who this is referring to, and I do love a mystery. The only solo “a-list” movie character where the creators aren’t fuck-off old or dead that I can think of is John Constantine. But given what “Alan Moore was mean to me boo-hoo” stories would pay in the market, I’m leaning away from him-- we’d have heard about it by now.

Names getting thrown out there are Wolfman-Perez on Cyborg (but people seem unaware of any falling out there)-- that’d be the sad one given how hard a fight Wolfman put up over Blade, and how little people had his back on that. (Plus: didn’t Perez have health stuff?). I’m hoping it’s not them.

A couple people pointing out Sandman. That’d be the funniest answer of all possible answers. That’s what I want to be true, for comedy. But my gut says nah because I mean, you just think Sam Keith would be on top of that shit from the get go, having had media experience... (Plus: I’m not sure how the “Created by” works there cause there was Mike Dringenberg and I was never clear who did what). EDITED: ahhhh, but also-- no movie out yet, which is one of the clues.

And there’s Harley Quinn, but that’s even harder for me to believe because both those guys ... I’d expect both those guys to be “eye on the ball” guys.

So personally, I’m not sure. If I had to bet money, I’d still want to bet on Sandman, but just because I believe in The Secret and things of that nature. What makes it hardest for me is the Titans are C-list characters at best, but maybe they’re A-listers now because, like, civilization has gotten worse...? They’re making a Moon Knight show so who even fucking knows anymore?? Rob Liefeld stumped too. Excitement!

#Worst Hobby or Worstest Hobby?

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S3:E1; Chapter One, Suzie, Do You Copy? - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Summer brings new jobs and budding romance. But the mood shifts when Dustin’s radio picks up a Russian broadcast, and Will senses something is wrong.

Warnings: Hopper being a c*p 🤢 [ACAB BABEY], mentions of animal death, very brief mentions of anxiety

**Y/H = your height, ex; short, tall etc H/C = hair color**

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"Alrighty. One scoop of chocolate, that'll be buck twenty five."

Steve places the cone in the girl's hands, smirking to himself when her hands meet his. With a shy yet charming grin he mumbles a soft 'there you go' and suddenly her hand is no longer touching his. The brief physical contact didn't seem to mean quite what it meant to him, as she looked rather eager to get back to her day at the mall. But Steve still saw a fighting chance when he spotted the gold letters displayed across her sweatshirt.

"Ah, Perdue." His eyes light up in recognition, and he sends her a silly smile. "Fancy."

She smiles brightly and Steve's spirits lift. She nods, handing over the money and readjusts her purse. "Yeah. I'm excited."

"Ah, you know I considered it." Steve nods, fingers flying across the register. "Perdue, but then I was like, you know what?"

A light air of resolve falls over him and the across the counter begin to shift as uncomfortable smiles flit across their faces. The second even trying to wipe the amused expression off of her face at Steve's obvious attempts at her friend. A knowing look is then passed on between the pair as Steve continues, seemingly unaffected.

"I really think I need some real life experience, ya know, before I hit college. See what it feels like to, kinda uh, like, I don't know," He shrugs with a charming smile that doesn't quite reach the girls who now boredly lick at their melting ice cream cones. "See what it's like to earn a working man's wage, you know and uh-"

The register he fiddles with decides his time is up, its circuits shorting out as they did every few weeks and stuck itself into one endless high pitched beep that cuts him off. Flustered, Steve attempts to save the conversation not before subduing the intrusive noise, as he mutters a quick apology.

"-I think that's really important, and uh,"

"Yeah, totally," She responds, choking back a pathetic laugh.

Rolling with the punches, Steve shrugs goofily still wearing his best smile.

"Yeah, anyways, this was like, so fun," he laughs, the nerves now overtaking him. "We should, like, I don't know, maybe hangout? Like this weekend or something-?"

Yet again, he is cut off as the change he intends to give her spill out of his hands and onto the counter.

"Oh, sorry about that," he fumbles as she begins collecting the scattered coins off the counter. "Uh, I don't know, maybe next weekend?"

"Uh, I'm busy." She laughs uncomfortably as she tucks the coins away into her purse.

"Oh, that's cool. And I'm-" Steve nods, scratching his head. "I'm working here next weekend so... the following weekend is probably better for me."

"Uh, no. I'm sorry, I can't."

Her friend begins to laugh into her ice cream and even she is biting back a smile as she hurriedly collects herself to leave and Steve nods.

"Okay," The girls chuckle to themselves as they make their leave for the door. "Thanks."

"I..." Steve stumbles, his voice awkwardly trailing off as they do. "This is my first day here, so..."

But they were already filing back out into the crowds, giggling between each other at his poor attempts. Not that he could blame them.

"And another one bites the dust."

He sighs heavily, head sagging over his shoulders before swiveling around to face the girl carrying a mischievous glint in her eye and that damned scoreboard. Scrawled across the top of the divided two sections; YOU SCORE, which remained completely blank, and YOU SUCK which carried a total of five--

"You are oh for," --now six. "six, Popeye."

Steve nods bitterly with his arms folded over his chest. "Yeah, yeah, I can count." He sighs.

"You know that means you suck."

Against all odds - and the bitter taste of annoyance on his tongue - Steve still finds a smile creeping up on his face, however forced.

"Yep, I can read, too."

The spark of mischief in her eyes is fueled like a small flame, and a cocky smile twists her lips. "Since when?"

"It's the stupid hat." Steve groans, ignoring her comment and saunters over to lean against the back counter. "I am telling you, it is totally blowing my best feature."

Robin tucks away the menu-turned-score board back against the wall before folding her arms on the counter, draping herself lazily in the back window.

"Yeah, company policy is a real drag." She drawls. "You know, it's a crazy idea but have you considered... telling the truth?"

"Oh, you mean, that I couldn't even get into Tech and my douchebag dad's trying to teach me a lesson, I make three bucks an hour and I have no future? That truth?"

Robin's eyes drift past his shoulder and she quickly gestures. "Hey, twelve o'clock."

Steve's head whips over his shoulder to find a small parade of girls striding towards the counter, reigniting the nerves in his gut. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Okay... Uh..."

He turns back to Robin, his eyes darting across the counter as his mind races. Robin can practically hear the silent pep talk he's giving himself.

"I'm going in. Okay?" He says, more to himself than her. He nearly whips around to face them had it not been for the sudden hesitation brought on by a burst of confidence. "And you know what?"

He rips the tacky sailor's hat off his head pulling a curl loose that dangled on his forehead as he smirks. "Screw company policy."

Less than impressed, Robin doesn't even attempt to hide her boredom. "Oh, my god, you're a whole new man." She deadpans.

"Right?" He shakes his head around on his shoulders in a goofy manner as he backs away, drawing out a weak chuckle from the girl.

In one step he whirls himself around to face the small posse of girls at a frightening speed, even startling several gasps out of them.

"Ahoy ladies! Didn't see you there," he shouts, propping himself up on the counter with his arms. Several girls in the group watch him wide eyed and still a bit off put. "Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain. I'm Steve Harrington."

"Oh, god." The red head mutters to herself, exasperated as her friends begin to giggle.

"Can I get you guys a little taste of Cherries Jubilee? No? Anybody? Banana Boat? Four people, four spoons?"

Robin watches from the back room as the fire spreads, a wince overtaking her face as she steps back to her board, uncapping her pen as his boisterous voice echoes throughout the ice cream parlor.

"Sharing a booth? Anybody? It's hot out there."

Make that oh-for-seven.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"And I know this is a difficult conversation to have..."

Hopper's unsteady voice travels at a slow pace as he digests the words on the scrap of paper in his hands. His face is contorted in an uncomfortable grimace as he hears them leave his mouth but he tries to persist.

"but I hope you know that I care about you very much. And I know that you-"

"Eye contact-" Joyce softly reminds, from where sits opposite, her legs dangling off the empty pharmacy counter.

There's a brief lull in the station between songs before a familiar melody spills from the wire speakers in the corner of the store, Patsy Cline's She’s Got You. It's quiet and hard to hear but the lyrics still seep into Hopper's subconscious, briefly aiding his nerves in throwing his attention off course as he meets Joyce's deep brown eyes.

"And I know that... we both care about each other very much." Immediately he rejects the words coming off his tongue and shakes his head at her choice of words. "This does not sound like me at all."

"Just keep going. Come on." She reassures.

Hopper draws in a deep breath, clutching the makeshift script between his balled fists that were tucked nervously in between his knees. "Which is why I think it's important to establish these boundaries..."

He squints, straining against his anxieties to remember the words she had helped him brainstorm. "moving forward..."

he sneaks a peak at the crumpled up paper in his hands, earning a soft chiding from Joyce who shakes her head.

"No looking. You know this. Come on."

Another deep inhale brings an uneasy look on Hopper's face as he shakes his head, tucking away the paper back in between his knees.

"so we can build an environment... uh... where we..."

Joyce silently watches with a series of encouraging nods, her hands gently waving like that of an orchestra conductor.

"all feel comfortable and trusted and open..."

Joyce nods once more, a light in her eyes as that silently encourages him. That puts him at ease. "'Share our feelings'..."

"...to sharing our feelings-- This isn't gonna work." He shakes his head, giving into the discomfort building all around him and he rises to his feet. "Um, it's not gonna work. It's not gonna work."

"Yes, it will!" She scolds. "I promise."

He shakes his head as he expels another patch of nerves, and joins her on the counter.

"Oh, come on." She pleads softly.

"Maybe I'll just kill Mike," he grunts sarcastically. "I'm the chief of police, I can cover it up." [👁👄👁]

Joyce gives his knuckles a reassuring pat before she sends him another encouraging smile. Even as he leans against the counter that she is currently hoisted onto, he still manages to tower over her.

"You got this." She gives another reassuring squeeze, and Hopper feels like a cheesy bastard for noticing the timing of it all. The swelling of the music and the spark she left whenever their hands met in the past few months, but he didn’t mind. "I promise."

The music seems to grow louder around them, and she still hasn't taken her hand from his. He finds himself smiling down at her with that goofy smile he had been wearing a lot lately. It only seemed to make an appearance around her, and he knew this.

"I really don't know what I know,"

Joyce meets his eyes with a genuine look, something familiar brewing in both of their chests. And that scares her. Her mind returns to Bob and the grip of fear tightens around her heart as Hopper looks at her like that.

"You want to have dinner tonight?" He asks, finally breaking more than one kind of silence that lingered between them.

Her heart catches in her throat, and she looks away growing bashful. And uncertain. Joyce can still feel his eyes on her and as he grins down at her flustered expression.

"You can give me some more pointers."

"Oh, I... Um..." Her hand leaves his and settles on her knee, and she returns her gaze to him with an apologetic look swimming in her eyes. "Um, I... I have plans."

"Okay, sure." He smirks, much too enamored with the awkward smile that graced her face to be offended by her answer.

Another comfortable silence befalls them as they sit enjoying one another's company. But even this moment is short lived in the wake of the customer bell announcing a new visitor to the store. Joyce perks, gesturing excitedly to the front as she excuses herself.

"Oh, a customer." Breathlessly, she heaves herself off the counter and eagerly makes her way to the woman up front. "Hey, Carol!"

"Oh, hi, Joyce!" The woman beams as Joyce scurried across the store to meet her. "How are you? So good to see you."

Hopper watches the exchange from where Joyce had left him standing, his eyes locked on the woman who had so quickly and so sneakily became such a vital part of his life. It was only logical to him that this friend of hers, Carol was so happy to see her; Joyce had a way with everyone she met. Not a single person left her company without their day brightened. She knew how to make everyone feel welcomed, heard and loved.

"She's got you,"

Looking at her now, there was no denying it. Not anymore. Hopper wanted that for her, and he hoped more than anything he could be the one to give her that.

||𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The sun beats heavily down on my neck and shoulders the most, and I shiver every once in a while when I feel a bead of sweat fall down my skin. With a groan, I readjust the backpack on my shoulders and put all my energy into just keeping up with Max and Lucas and not on the burning sensation on my skin.

"This isn't fair," I pout. "Heat's my whole thing, I shouldn't be sweating like this."

"Well, good news is we're nearly there," Dustin assures, though I do not feel very comforted.

"Aren't we high enough?" Lucas asks, tugging at the large bag he was lugging over his shoulder.

"Cerebro works best at a hundred meters."

I groan up at the sky as I continue the hike up.

I began to hear spouts of quieted laughter from behind me but it's quickly cut off by Max's flat remark.

"I'm pretty sure people in Utah have telephones."

"Yeah, but Suzie's Mormon." Dustin replies.

"Oh shit." Lucas says surprised. "She doesn't have electricity?"

She's five or six steps ahead of me with her back turned and yet I can still make out Max's eye roll. "Oh, that's the Amish." She corrects tiredly.

"Mormans are super religious white people," Dustin begins. "They have electricity and cars and stuff but since I'm not Mormon, her parents would never approve. It's all a bit... shakespearean."

"Shakespearean?" Max indulges, a smirk in her voice.

"Yeah," Dustin answers, puffing his chest out a little. "Star crossed lovers."

"Right."

"Well, regardless Dustin," I begin, sharing a smile with Will. "I can't wait to be introduced."

I see Dustin perk up even more, and my smile grows. "Yeah?" He asks hopefully.

"Yeah!" I answer. "I wanna be a good sister. Can't wait to repay you for being so cool with me and Will, ya know?"

"Guys?"

I bite back a laugh but my smile is still triumphant. Dustin stops in his tracks, the others stopping as well seeming more than relieved. When Dustin turns to look at me, his face is hardened completely in a threatening glare.

"If you do or even say anything, I swear I will-"

"GUYS!"

Me and Dustin break away from our small fight and everyone turns to find Mike and El several feet down the hill. They're standing hand in hand and sending us all weak apologetic smiles and I feel my heart sink.

"This was fun and all, but uh..." Mike trails off, tapping his watch obnoxiously.

"I have to get home." El finished.

All mischief I was previously feeling with Dustin vanished, quickly replaced by guilt as I stole a quick glance at his saddened expression and the duo before us.

"We're almost there!" He says, completely bewildered and I can hear the hurt in his voice.

"Sorry man," Mike says, not sounding very sorry at all. "Curfew."

He starts to back away down the hill and he takes El's hand and whispers something to her that I don't catch.

El sent us all a warm look, as if nothing was wrong and for the first time I was upset to see her smile.

"Good luck," she says, before following on Mike's heels with an elated giggle.

I stare after them, my eyes burning holes in their backs and my hands no doubt burning holes in my pockets if I wasn't careful enough.

"Curfew at four?" Dustin asks, finally catching on to the majority of our summer without him.

"They're lying." Lucas huffs.

I see Will shrug angrily next to me. "It's been like this all summer."

"It's romantic," Max offers but even she doesn't sound so convinced.

"It's gross."

I shake my head, letting out a short sigh.

"It's... not healthy." Another flicker of anger attacked me suddenly, and I looked at all my friends bewildered before my glare landed back on the retreating couple. "And what the hell happened to 'friends don't lie'?"

"I don't know but it's bullshit." Dustin replies, his voice sad and filled with disappointment. "I just got home."

I look back over my shoulder and give my brother a sympathetic smile but I know it won't fix anything.

"I'm sorry Dustin. I really didn't think they would do it this time. They seemed so excited for you to come home."

He meets my eye and nods. If I look close enough I can see him rebuilding himself.

"Whatever... They're loss, right?" He smiled at us all and gestured to the hilltop behind us. "Onwards and upwards."

He takes off for the hill at unnatural speeds for our condition and cheers excitedly into the air. "Suzie awaits!"

Well shit, more climbing.

I groan, head landing on Will's shoulder in a tired pout. My voice isn't alone for as soon as I do I hear Max and Lucas throw back similar whines at the remaining trek ahead.

By the time I pick my head up off of Will's shoulder, everyone else is already several steps ahead. I sigh, ripping my stiffened and tired legs from where they rooted into the ground and start after them. Readjusting the backpack over my shoulder, my eyes drill into the top of the hill- the finish line - as I push ahead.

"Think they'll carry me if I fake a leg injury?" I chuckle to Will under my breath.

There's a small silence aside from the distant giggling of El and Mike as they descend the hill and the panting of the others as they run out of breath from the climb above us. I look to my right where Will was previously, only to find him several steps behind me. His back was turned to me and he was nervously clutching the bag of wires he had been carrying.

I took a few cautious steps towards him, my heart pounding for reasons I did not understand.

"Will?"

He scrambles back, jumping from one foot to the other as if dancing on hot coals and it looks as if he sees something in the grass.

"What, what is it? Will!"

He snaps out of his trance, turning to me wide eyed and now several steps closer to me. I quickly bridge the gap to stand by his side, searching his eyes carefully. He casts one last lingering glance out onto the grass where he was previously standing before meeting my eyes. There was something he was holding back, something deeply uncertain in the way he held himself and I got a sinking feeling in my gut.

A sinking feeling not unlike the night I found him outside the arcade. Anger quickly bubbles to the surface at the thought of something else getting him, and without a second thought I take his hand in mine.

He seems to relax a great deal at my touch, and he looks greatly reassured and instantly so am I.

He was still Will.

There was a silence that hung between us as he put on a smile for me. It was far from genuine, that I knew and the only thing it reassured me of was the fact that something definitely scared him.

Will looks past my shoulders, and gestures. "Come on, we better catch up. We've got some revenge to enact." Another forced laugh is let loose and he starts off after them.

Tries to at least, but he's pulled to a stop when I don't move an inch, my hand still tethered to his. He stops, looking back at me curiously.

"Will, you know you can tell me anything right?" I see a flicker of fear in his eyes. "I'm always going to be here for you, no matter what. And so are your friends. Well,"

I laugh bitterly.

"you know what I mean."

Will presses his lips into a flat smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and nods a little too eagerly.

"I know," he reassures. "I promise."

One final flicker of fear flashes in his eyes as he seems to purge it from his system, quickly replacing it with a bright and happy expression. He tugs gently on our interlocked hands and gestures up the hill.

"Now... you ready to meet Dustin's first girlfriend?" He asks with a growing smirk.

I shake my head as a small laugh bubbles up despite the anxiety brewing fresh in my stomach. It still lingers in the back of my mind, but slowly boils down to a simmer, melting away as I meet the now genuine smile of Will's and I find myself giving in to the temptation of blissful ignorance. My legs begin carrying me to his side and quickly we start pacing up the hill with matching grins.

He might be able to tempt me with the offer of getting back at Dustin for now, but there's still a thought - a feeling - burning in the back of my mind. Something is definitely up with Will. The problem is, I don't know what and even worse, I don't think he knows either.

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The endless parade of rats dart through the overgrown blades of grass, blending perfectly into the summer breeze passing through their surroundings. An undeniable instinct draws them onward to Brimborne Steel Works as sure as it set their skin ablaze in a horrendous flameless fire that ignited their insides just from their path even mingling with the Y/H, H/C girl who lingered nearby. Even a slight change in direction of the breeze had given them, the hosts, a feeling similar to standing atop a fresh layer of cooling magma that sent them scurrying off their path and was even strong enough to send pins and needles in the heels of their masters previous host.

They don't know their master, of course, or what a master is or why they have blended colonies. All they do know is the unceasing pull in their gut to follow orders. Orders to scavenge the unscavengable, feed on the inedible, and flee, flee... Flee.

And now hundreds of them scurry across the dying grass surrounding the abandoned steel works where they soon disappear inside. The wearhouse floor comes alive as hundreds more file in from every nook and cranny that can possibly be found. Their speed is fast enough to create its own gentle breeze that sweeps away several stray leaves that have collected on the concrete over the years as they head for a single steel stairway.

The enclosed space is soon overflowing with a sea of rats that create a symphony of pitter patter as their tiny feet scuttle down the metal staircase and into the deep lake of shadows that sat under the wearhouse. The only light that found its way down in the depths of Brimborne was the skylight leaking in from the doorway that illuminated the only possible clue to the sudden phenomenon;

Scattered across piles of glistening pink and red jelly were the hundreds of rats that had found their way home. The new home promised to them by the seemingly never ending pull in their gut. But the pull had mysteriously stopped when they reached the basement. But the presence of something dark and sinister remained.

The driving force - the pull - had not vanished but had instead morphed into a warm buzzing that grew intensely worse. It grew hotter and hotter, shaking their small bodies harder and harder as it spread to every cell at unnatural speeds that crippled them. They twitched and squealed in discomfort as they fell to the floor, their last cries for help before erupting into the very goo that they laid in.

The basement was filled with pop after sickening pop as the rats exploded into nothing, all of them and their remains glistening in the single beam of light just outside of the realm of shadows that held the true monster.

This monster that had poisoned Hawkins before. This monster that had spread its rot and death, and inevitable decay with everything it touched. However...

This was not the return of the Shadow Monster.

For the Shadow Monster had never left.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · All links are provided in the comments might not be accessible via the app BUT should work on the mobile website and desktop website. Please use them. Possible Warnings to black readers, and any other readers of color who might be triggered I have included several petitions to save POC facing the death penalty. However, first, here is the masterlist of black mental health resources if you need them. I've posted it many times but mental health is so important, and getting treated properly by people who truly understand you and your experiences can make all the difference, im sure. All my love 💓

Black Mental Health Carrd

[picture text id: there are other people on death row who can still be saved, petitions below]

Below is a link to @ SUNSETSAPPHICS twitter thread from the picture up above filled with several links that each take only a couple seconds to sign each, that i strongly urge - that I ask you to sign. You could potentially save a life. Please sign, spread the word anywhere and everywhere, tag people on your message board, tag people here, make a chapter about somewhere, idc just let your voices be heard and make a difference in these people's lives! Save. A life! It has happened before and we can do it again!

[link]

Petition to Abolish the Death Penalty

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @ @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @missmulti @youpi-chan @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @mirdall @fishswimbetterunderwater @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @bluechildrenlickmytoes

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the campers, chapter seven

chapter seven - the fight

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: Steve, Hopper, and the Party talk theories while you and Steve engage in a feud.

warnings: swearin’ <3 angst <3

word count: 2.8k

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! I changed two whole words in the summary to make it more accurate <3

===

The camp was on a full lockdown after the second camper went missing.

Campers now had to be escorted everywhere by a counselor. Counselors also had to escort each other. There was a sinister feeling in the air, one that left everyone uneasy. One camper going missing was one thing; two going missing was another thing entirely. It didn’t seem like an unfortunate coincidence anymore. It seemed intentional and evil.

The people who thought this most were, of course, The Party, Jim Hopper, and Steve Harrington. The evening the news of the second camper broke, everyone squished themselves into a double bedroom, theorizing and planning.

Steve came late - he had to escort campers to the dining hall. His mind hasn’t thought of anything except the missing camper. No one Steve talked to knew who it was, and he had no time to talk to you or any of the kids, beyond Mike telling him to meet in his room at nine. His chest felt tight all day, worried it was someone in the Party. Someone who had been trying to play hero and got caught up in whatever this all was. His heart hammered as he rushed towards Mike’s cabin, slipping into the crowded room with his head spinning.

The room falls silent as he barges in. Hopper is sitting at Mike’s desk while everyone else is spread around the beds and the floor. Everyone looks fearful, and as Steve’s eyes scan the room, he notices the lack of Dustin. Suzie is there, but no Dustin.

Steve’s heart drops.

“Where’s Dustin?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Relax,” Max says. “He snuck out to get pudding from the cafeteria.”

“Snuck out?” Steve hisses, but his body relaxes in relief. “He can’t be out there right now -”

“Steve,” Hopper cuts in, and beckons him to take a seat.

Steve figures that if Hopper’s not concerned, then he shouldn’t be, either. He sits beside El and Mike on Mike’s bed, staying close to Hop as he waits for information.

Hopper keeps his hand over his mouth for a moment, deep in thought, before speaking, directly to Steve, the only other adult in the room. “The camper that went missing was the same age and size as Will.” He tilts his head towards Will, who seems almost catatonic in fear. “And the last camper that went missing was also the same age and size as Will.”

“Well, what do you think that means?” Steve asks. “Do you think it’s looking for him?”

“Will said he can’t feel the Mind Flayer,” Mike interjects. “Right, Will?”

Will goes pale, eyes darting to the floor.

“Right, Will?” Mike repeats, a bit of an edge to his voice.

Will looks back up, shaking his head a little bit. His hand goes to the back of his neck and he shakes his head some more. “I can’t feel him, but I can feel him.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Max says, brows furrowed.

“It’s like… it’s like he’s not here, he’s there,” Will explains. “But there is close.”

“The Upside Down?” Lucas asks, and Will nods.

“I think it’s close, but I don’t know how close,” he explains. “I can’t feel him in this realm, but I think I can feel him in the Upside Down.”

“I can feel it, too,” El says quietly.

Mike and Hopper look at her, scandalized.

“You can feel it? Feel what?” Hopper asks.

“The Upside Down.” El shifts, pulling her legs up to her chest. “I can feel it nearby, but I can’t see it or find it.”

“Jesus,” Steve mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “So you think the Upside Down isn’t in Hawkins, it’s here?”

El and Will nod in unison, frowning.

“Well that’s just great,” Steve says, standing up. “That’s good. That’s great. So it followed us.”

“Maybe it knew El and Will were here,” Lucas tries to explain, but Hopper shakes his head.

“Why would it want Will again?” he asks quietly. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“If they feel something, then it has to be nearby,” Mike says. “Why would both of them feel it at the same time?”

“I don’t know,” Hopper says harshly. “But I’m taking you two -” he points at El and Mike, “back to Hawkins.”

“What?” everyone asks in unison.

“It’s not safe for them here,” Hopper explains, raising his voice over the racket.

“It’s not safe for anyone here,” Steve says, putting his hands on his hips. His heartbeat accelerates at the thought of you being here when this shit is happening. “We need to get to the bottom of this before anyone else gets hurt.”

The room falls quiet. Steve knows, Steve understands that no one wants to deal with this shit again. He gets that. But someone has to, and if it has to be him, then so be it. That’s usually how it goes, anyway.

“I’m not leaving until we figure this out,” he says. “So if -”

The door opens and Dustin walks in, you on his heels, looking frazzled. Dustin has a copious amount of pudding cups balanced in his arms, and you’re carrying two - the ones he managed to drop. You’d found him sneaking around on his own and accompanied him, irritated that no one else went with him.

Everyone freezes at the sight of you, bodies going stiff. Your eyes scan the room, confused - there are way too many people in here, and you don’t know who the hell this grown ass man is. Your eyes fall to Steve, brows furrowed, and then you say, “Why didn’t anybody go with him?”

“Didn’t know he was going,” Steve says, pulling Dustin into the room.

Steve’s irritated - enraged, maybe. You weren’t supposed to be here - Suzie wasn’t, either, but he could at least control what you were a part of. Dustin allowing you to come so far, literally into the room where they’re referencing things you could be killed for, makes his blood boil. Dustin groans at the feeling of Steve’s fingers burying into his arm and he drops the pudding cups.

“God dammit,” Dustin says, shrugging out of his grip and rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?”

“It’s curfew,” you say awkwardly, not understanding what’s going on. “You should all be -”

“So should you,” Steve snaps.

You straighten at his tone, glaring at him. Steve sighs and steps towards the door, holding his hand up to the Party before slipping out with you.

“What the hell?” you whisper. “Why are you so pressed and who the hell is that guy?”

“It’s nothing,” he lies. “I need you to go back to your cabin.”

You cross your arms. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m one of those kids,” you say, beckoning towards the door. “I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t be out -”

“I wouldn’t be out if you’d just taken Dustin -”

“I didn’t know he was going!” he whisper-shouts, becoming more irritated. “Go back to your cabin.”

“You’re not the boss of me -”

“Right now, I am.”

You scoff, your own rage building. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Steve shakes his head and licks his lips, looking over your shoulder. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

Steve sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s complicated.”

You frown and your eyes soften, letting your shoulders relax. You can see how stressed he is and you step forward to reach for him, but he steps back, out of your reach. You frown further and your shoulders slump. “You can talk to me. You know I’m here for you.”

Steve’s inner turmoil reaches a near-boiling point here. He wants to tell you, just like he wanted to tell you at the waterfall. He wants to be like Dustin, he wants to trust and assume things will work out. But he doesn’t want you dead, and he doesn’t want you hurt. He doesn’t want you caught up in any of this. Steve feels his chest tighten, fighting with himself, before he makes the decision to push you away.

“You can’t be right now,” he says. He steps forward and puts his hands on your biceps, pushing you towards the exit. “You need to go.”

“Steve!” you nearly shout, pushing him off of you. “Do not touch me like that.”

Like muscle memory, Steve’s angry venom takes hold of himself yet again, just as it did in high school. Without thinking, he snaps, “You didn’t say that last night.”

You pause in shock, his words running through your head. You scoff and shake your head. “What does that mean?”

Steve feels bile rising in his throat, and he swears he can see Nancy standing before him, not you. He puts up the wall in a desperate attempt to not break down, his jaw clenching and fists balling up. “Don’t you ever stop to think why I don’t tell you things? Why I don’t trust you? Why I didn’t want to touch you last night?”

“Shut up,” you whisper, feeling your chest twist. “You’re being an asshole.”

“I’ve been pushing you away my whole life, why don’t you get the message?”

You know it’s a bluff, but you don’t understand why. You don’t get the total 180 he’s pulling, but you have a bad feeling in your gut. Like maybe he’s involved in shit he shouldn’t be involved in, or maybe he knows too much about the missing campers. Steve doesn’t seem evil, but his inability to open up to you makes you feel sick, and angry, and hurt.

“Stop,” you beg. “Stop being… stop being… you’re bullshit.”

You know it was a mistake the moment it left your lips, and Steve’s eyes hardening and welling with tears reinforces that. But you’re still mad, and you don’t think he has the right to be tearful right now, and it enrages you so much that you repeat it. “You’re bullshit.”

Steve feels the wall crashing down and he does everything to keep it up, locks his knees upright, clenches his fist, grits his teeth. “You think I’m bullshit?”

“You really don’t care about me, do you?” you ask, trying to keep your own wall up, trying to not let the tears fall freely down your cheeks. “Is that why you can’t remember any good thing about me? Because you don’t want to? Because you don’t care?”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, because it’s all a lie. Of course he cares about you, of course he remembers you fondly. Of course he regrets the way he treated you. Of course he’s proud of the person he’s become, and of course he owes that to you.

But he can not and will not admit that right now.

“I don’t,” he says quietly, not even understanding the words leaving his own mouth. “I don’t.”

You weren’t expecting that.

“You don’t?” you repeat.

“I don’t.” He says it louder this time, trying to convince himself it’s true. But he’s still mad, and he wants what he says to hurt, because you hurt him. “And you know what I think is bullshit?”

You don’t answer - you can only stare while forcing the tip of your tongue into the roof of your mouth.

He still remembers the words he told Nancy in the alley by the gym two years ago. I think you’re bullshit. He remembers the anger and heartbreak behind the words, how they hurt to come out, how they made his mouth dry and knees weak.

“I think you’re bullshit,” he says, and then he walks back into Mike’s room, slamming the door behind him.

You stare at the pattern in the wood of the door, mind blank after that, before walking out, trying to push your tears back in with the heels of your palms.

===

Everyone looks up when Steve reenters, noticing how his cheeks are pink and splotchy and his eyes are wet and red. He speaks immediately, scared that someone will ask him about the talk they almost certainly heard through the door. “What’s the plan?”

“You and me,” Hop says, standing from his chair. “We’re going into the woods to see if anything’s going on, or if we can find any… portals.”

“And if we do?” Steve asks.

“I close them,” El says quietly.

“We have to find out if there are any, first,” Hopper says. He heads to the window and opens it, pulls out a cigarette and then lights it. “And if there are, we close them.”

Steve wonders why it sounds so easy, but maybe it’s because he’s suddenly not the only adult in this situation.

“I’ll get my bat,” he says, eager for the comfort of the heavy weapon in his hand.

Dustin hops up and follows him out, making Steve irritated once again.

“I’m not talking about it,” Steve hisses.

“You just sabotaged your entire relationship with Y/N for what?” Dustin asks, pulling on Steve’s arm to make him stop walking.

“So that they don’t die,” Steve says, yanking his arm away. “Maybe you should try having some discretion for once.”

“I told Suzie because I love her,” Dustin explains, fighting to keep up with Steve’s long strides. “And if she knows the kind of trouble she could be in, then that’s to her advantage.”

Steve whips around, pupils flaring. “How would knowing about this help? Did you forget about the entire stack of papers we had to sign? Did you forget that they could kill us and our families and the people we love if this shit gets out?”

“So you don’t trust her then?” Dustin asks.

“Of course I do,” Steve says, feeling sick again.

“Then why don’t you tell her?”

“Because I am not like you.” Steve reaches his arm out, holding Dustin at bay, two fingertips digging into his chest. “Now back off. I’m not explaining myself again.”

Steve continues to walk towards his car, abandoned in the parking lot, but Dustin keeps up with him. Steve turns around again. “I’m serious, back off -“

“I’m not leaving you out here alone,” Dustin says quietly, looking a bit hurt at Steve’s rejection.

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before taking Dustin under his arm, walking slower so Dustin doesn’t have to run.

Nothing is said, but they both understand.

When Steve opens the trunk to his car, a wave of hot air hits him in the face, making him cringe and step back. He leans in for it and pulls it out, smiling fondly as he does, the familiar weight of it comforting. He’d packed it just in case - maybe he’d see a bear and would need it. He never thought he’d potentially have to use it on another Demogorgon.

“You still know how to use that thing?” Dustin asks.

Steve smiles and twirls it in his hand, giving it a few practice swings. “I didn’t score the winning shot on my fourth grade pee-wee team for nothing.”

Steve and Dustin walk side by side as they head back to Mike’s room, both feeling much better with the addition of the bat. Steve’s mind runs off towards you, his stomach twisting again as he processes what he’d said to you. He feels embarrassed and disgusted. He felt like he’d come so far since high school, that he’d gotten over Nancy since October ‘84. It’s a let down for himself, but surely for you, too.

He convinced himself it was the right thing, though. He doesn’t need you to be caught up in this. And once they figure out if the Upside Down has something to do with this, he’ll apologize and come clean. He’ll tell you he was trying to protect you. He’ll tell you he cares about you.

He’ll prove it.

The door creaks open as Steve and Dustin come back in, Hopper finishing up another cigarette. He flicks it out the window and pulls it down, locking it into place.

“Let’s go over this again,” Hopper says.

Steve and Hop are to go into the woods to search for any type of portals or other things that are amiss. It’s a bit of a long shot, since there have already been search parties out for the two missing boys, but maybe they’d find something that the others looked over. The kids were to stay put until Steve and Hop came back. After that, they’d reassess and complete the mission, if there is a mission at all.

Steve silently hopes that there’s nothing out there.

“Ready?” Hopper asks, his hand gripping his pistol.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve replies dryly, his own hands gripping the shaft of the bat.

===

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #the campers #my fics

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bakubabes-tatakae · 4 years

Text

For The Love Of Humanity’s Strongest (Part Five)

Author’s Note: If anyone wants to be in a taglist for this feel free to let me know! Happy to do it for anyone!

(Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Summary: When all seems lost Y/N knows that she can count on one person to always be there for her brother, Eren Jaeger, and herself. Can humanity’s strongest not only keep Eren in line, but keep his relationship alive as well?

AO3 Link

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Part Five:

I had been dreading the day that Eren would be put on trial since Levi and Erwin has sat me down to talk to me about it. I know their plan was to get him out of this, and I believed them when they said they could, but the thought of my brother being in shackles in front of all of those people was something I couldn’t grasp. This poor boy had been through so much lately.

Hange approached me, noticing that I was just standing in front of the door to the military police holding cells, not even attempting to go in. My brain couldn’t get out of its own way. She put her hand on my shoulder, startling me. “They’re waiting for you Y/N. We have to get him up there soon.”

I turned to look at her. “I know Zoe, but I can’t bring myself to walk forward.”

She smiled weakly at me. “I’ll come with you, how about that?”

Zoe Hange might be a mad woman, but she had been my best friend since the day we met. The day I joined the scouts was the day that our bond began. I took a deep breath and slowly opened the door, walking down the steps to the cells.

When we approached his cell Eren was already sitting up, a military police member on each side of the entrance. Hange flung herself at the bars and jumped Eren. I walked up next to her. “Zoe, calm down.”

She spoke to Eren, she had always been fascinated by the Titans, so being near a person that could become a Titan was making her gears turn. “So then... you’re Eren. Are you well? How are you? I’m really sorry you’ve been waiting so long, but here’s your chance to finally get out.”

Eren’s gaze was going between Hange and I. I tried to calm him. “You can trust her, this is Zoe Hange, the girl I always talk about.”

He relaxed a little. She took a pair of handcuffs off her belt loop and held them through the bars of the cell. “If you wanna get out you’ll have to put these on for me, okay?”

The military police members approached the cell and reached their hands out for the cuffs. I held my hand up and took them. “Let me do it, please.” They hesitated. “He won’t hurt me, he’s my little brother.” The men clearly didn’t trust me, but they opened the cell door and unlocked the shackles around Eren’s arms and legs.

Eren slowly stood and turned around, holding his arms behind his back for me. I spoke to him as I put the cuffs around his wrists. “I’m gonna figure this out Eren. I won’t let them hurt you. Trust me. Levi and Erwin will get you out of this.”

* * * * * *

As we marched down the hall with a couple other scout members Hange started the introductions. “I’m Zoe Hange, I’m a section commander for the Scouts.”

As usual Mike was being a weirdo, sniffing Eren, clearly making him uncomfortable. I walked over to the other side of Eren and moved Mike out of the way. “This is a fellow section commander. Mike Zacharius. Don’t mind him, he makes it a habit of giving new members a thorough sniff.”

We reached the door to the courtroom way quicker than I had wanted us too. “It’s probably best if we don’t explain what’s going on Eren.” Eren was starting to fight back with the military police members that had come with us.They started to push him through the door. The fear in my little brother’s eyes was breaking my heart. “We’ve put all our faith in you Eren.”

Eren fought back harder. “Wait, Y/N, what’s happening?!”

Mike grabbed my arms and started to lead me away, knowing that Eren has always been my weakness. Zoe took over “Best of luck.” She shut the doors and turned to me. I could still hear Eren yelling through the doors.

I turned toward Hange and she grabbed onto me. “I know it sucks Y/N, but you know that Levi and Erwin are going to do everything they need to to help him.”

“I know, I just need a minute. You guys go in ahead of me, I’ll meet you.” The emotions running through me knowing that if Levi and Erwin weren’t successful basically warranted my brother’s death was more than my anxiety could handle.

When they all walked away and headed to the balcony entrance of the courtroom and I knew the coast was clear I leaned against the wall and let myself slide to the floor, burying my head in my hands, allowing myself to break down for a second.

* * * * * *

After ten minutes I had calmed myself down, knowing I had to get into there and see what was happening. When I walked through the door there was tons of hollering going on, I was still too far to make out anything they were saying. As I stepped out next to Hange I heard a voice speak my name. “Y/N Jaeger.”

The commander of the military police, Nile, was speaking to me. I looked down at him from the balcony. “Yes sir.”

Levi had his eyes locked on mine, he was worried about what Nile was going to do. “Is it true that after Eren transformed into a Titan in the mission to retake Trost that he attempted to assault you?��

My eyes grew wide. There was only one group of people who would have said anything about that. My eyes turned to slits as I stared at the garrison members that had ratted us out. When I didn’t speak Nile spoke again. “He might be your brother, but this is a court room, you can not lie.”

I hung my head and spoke through gritted teeth. “Yes sir, it’s true.”

Gasps were heard through the courtroom and more hollering started. Eren had a look or pure shock in his face when I looked back up. People started to shout about Mikasa and I possibly being Titans since we had managed to survive his attack. The courtroom was now convinced we were all in cahoots. People shouted about how they should dissect Mikasa and I along with Eren. Eren’s face has a mixture of panic and anger as he heard the words spoken about us.

To the shock of all of us Eren spoke up, screaming at the top of his lungs to be heard over the chaos. “You leave them out of this, if you want to call anyone a monster and make someone suffer than let it be me! Y/N and Mikasa have nothing to do with this. They’re innocent!”

Levi’s gaze flashed to me again as he heard people making threats of dissecting the woman he loved. I could see his anger level rising with the people around him and saw Erwin’s rising as well. Erwin put his hand on Levi’s arm, trying to signal to him to calm down, he didn’t want the others seeing him get consumed.

“They must be Titans too if you’re protecting them!”

Eren was getting way to angry, we still had no idea what exactly made him transform. This anger could be really bad. Eren lunged forward, the shackles clanging loudly against the pole that held him in the ground. “Stop it!” As he lunged everyone went quiet, afraid of what could happen. “You’re wrong... about it all. But you’re so hellbent on pushing your selfish agendas that you’re blind to what’s in front of you!”

Nile was the first to speak as the silence in the room became deafening. “What do you mean?”

“What does it even matter? None of you have even seen a Titan. So why are you so afraid, huh?” He was taunting them. I knew this couldn’t be good. “There’s no sense in having power if you’re not going to fight! If you’re too scared to fight for your lives then fine, let me do it! YOU’RE ALL COWARDS!”

I leaned forward on the railing and Hange and Mike each grabbed one of my arms, afraid I would fall over. “Eren, stop it!”

He lunged forward again. “JUST SHUT UP... AND PUT ALL YOUR FAITH IN ME.”

I hadn’t seen Eren scream that loudly since we were kids. The panic in my eyes could be seen a mile away. Before anyone could even respond to him I saw Levi hop over the edge of the court room and enter it. What was he going to do? I saw Levi raise his foot and knew exactly what he was about to do.

A foot hit Eren square in the jaw, sending a tooth flying out of his mouth, but he didn’t stop there. Next was a kick to the gut before Levi grabbed his head and pulled him too him.

I lunged forward and hollered. “LEVI!” Levi didn’t look up, he didn’t even acknowledge that I had even spoke. What was he doing to him? How would this even help us? Hange grabbed my arms and held me back away from the railing.

“Y/N, stop, I don’t want to have to drag you out of here.” She had an arm around my neck. “I’m sure Levi has a reason for this.”

Levi flung his knee into Eren’s face before pushing his head into the concrete below him, stepping on his head like he was a bug. “You know, personally, I think nothing instills discipline like pain.” He was staring down at Eren as he spoke. “You don’t need a good talking too, what you’re in need of boy, is to be taught a lesson. And you happen to be in perfect kicking position.”

Eren gasped as Levi sent more kicks into his gut and back. I fought against Hange as I watched. I didn’t care what Levi’s reasoning was behind this, all I could see was red. Eren was my responsibility. It was my job to keep him safe. I had promised my mom that I would. It was her dying wish.

Nile stood in shock, he couldn’t believe what Levi had the balls to do in front of the entire court. “Now hold on Levi.”

Levi interupted him before he could speak further. “What is it?” Levi now has Eren’s head pinned against the pole behind him.

“It’s dangerous. What if he gets angry? Turns into a Titan?”

Levi kicked his face. “Don’t be silly.” He grabbed Eren by the hair and lifted him up. “After all, you guys just want to dissect him, don’t you?” Levi let him go and looked around. “They said that during the time that he was transformed Jaeger was able to kill twenty Titans before he finally ran out of strength.” He looked straight at Nile. “As an enemy his intelligence makes him all the more dangerous. But I could take him down without a problem.” He looked at the crowd. “How many of you can say the same?”

Everyone in the courtroom looked terrified. The fear that humanity’s strongest put into people was both terrifying and intoxicating. “Before you torment the beast you better think. Can you actually kill him?”

As Erwin stood I calmed myself some, still seeing red at Levi, but that would have to wait. “Sir,” he raised his hand. “I have a proposition.”

The General spoke. “Proceed.”

“There’s still too much we don’t know. And no doubt his danger will be ever present. As such I suggest this: Eren Jaeger will be placed under Captain Levi’s supervision and we’ll conduct a recon mission outside of the walls.”

“And Jaeger will join you on this excursion?”

“Yes sir, and then you can look upon the missions results for yourself. If he successfully controls his abilities Eren will have proven his value to mankind.”

“Eren Jaeger will be closely supervised?” The General looked to Levi. “And should he become out of control?”

Levi looked behind him. “I can definitely kill him if it comes to that.” His words cut me and I fought again. “There’s only one downside to that. There’s absolutely no middle ground.”

“Then I have made my choice..... the Scouts are now in custody of Eren Jaeger. He will be under the command of Commander Erwin and Captain Levi.”

* * * * * *

When we left the court room Hange stayed glued to my side, afraid of what I might do. Eren had been released from his shackles and was standing by the wall, rubbing his wrists. I ran to him and buried myself into his chest. “I’m so sorry Eren.”

Eren clung to me. “For what Y/N, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“For Levi, he should never had done what he did in there.”

“If he didn’t then who knows if I’d be standing here right now. He showed them that he had power over me when my brain wouldn’t let my mouth stop moving.”

I knew Eren was right, but I couldn’t let myself believe it. Levi walked out of the door beside us and when he saw the anger in my eyes he prepared himself. I walked over to him, trying to make myself look calm, and when I got close enough I threw a punch aimed for his face. He dodged me with ease, growing up in the underground had taught him excellent hand to hand combat. It didn’t even phase me, I continued to throw punches.

As scouts surrounded us and tried to grab onto me Erwin stopped them. “Leave them be, Levi can handle himself.”

They all stepped back and as I threw my last punch Levi spun me around and held me to him, pinning my arms at my side. “Will you stop it and let me explain?”

My breath was ragged as I tried to break free. “Why should I?”

“Because I just saved your brother’s life, now come with me.” Levi grabbed my hand and dragged me down the hall, finding a room that was empty and dragging me in. He had never liked to make a scene when it came to his personal life. “I know you’re mad, but I didn’t have a choice.”

I didn’t speak, just watched him. I walked to the desk behind where I stood and sat on it. He walked closer to me and put his hand on my cheek. “Will you please talk to me?”

I didn’t let him speak. I put my hands behind his back and pulled him toward me. Getting my hint he put his hands behind my head and pulled my face to his, planting a kiss on me, clearly wanting to let our emotions speak instead of our words.

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Part Six: *NSFW Ahead!*, Part Seven

Updated: 5/13/2020

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carrisarune · 3 years

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In Your Eyes

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Note: At this point, please expect at least a few errors as I basically dish these out as soon as I’m done even with a quick review. Editing of previous chaps may occur at one point though so there is that. I have to say a great thanks again to Bree and Preet for all their support and encouragement, you guys are amazing

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst @schnitzelbutterfingers @aestheticartsx

CHAPTER FOUR: NEW PEOPLE AND A NEW HOME

The next morning arrived and after a restless sleep between the not so comfy bed and trying to calm his raging thoughts, Rai was ready to face the new day. As he made his way to the staff entrance, he happened to catch Bryce playing basketball with some other surgeons. At one point, the ball rolled to Rai’s feet. “Well, come one then Hayashi. You gonna play, or you gonna send that back over?” Bryce called, clearly challenging the other.

Picking up the ball, Rai stuck out his tongue in concentration before shooting the ball. Somehow, rather than entering the hoop, the ball hit the support board, hit the ground, then bounced towards a bewildered Bryce, who caught it. A beat of silence came before Bryce, along with the other surgeons burst into laughter.

Bryce leaned against Rai as he exclaimed, “Man you’re a riot Rai” while the male sighed. “Me and ball sports never did have the best relationship” Rai mused. Patting him in consolation Bryce stated, “Hey, not everyone can be good at everything like me” before laughing as Rai bumped his hip in retaliation. After giving Rai’s hair a quick ruffle, Bryce went back to his game. A quick fix of his hair and walk later, Rai was in the changing room and getting ready for work.

He had just placed on his shirt when Sienna came in and announced her arrival with cookies. Upon hearing that, Rai perked and went over to request for some. As he stuffed some cookies like a squirrel, he missed Jackie question how Sienna was so chipper in the morning. He only looked up when he heard Sienna describe the apartment she found and Jackie being skeptical about it. Swallowing the cookies and wiping his mouth from any crumbs, he chimed in, “Well, we can always go together and make a run for it if it’s like some old killer’s den.”

Both girls laughed at that before Sienna informed them that there might be a chance they would need to sign today. Folding his arms, Rai gave a hum, “Looks like we’re gonna have to play gymnastics with our shift today then” causing the girls to laugh once more. The trio then headed to the atrium and met with Elijah and Landry. They discussed their thoughts on what the senior residents might be like when Landry pointed them out. Turning, Rai recognized one of them as Dr. DeLarosa and the other was a broad man with tanned skin, a neatly trimmed beard, and a stern looking face.

Rai quickly learned that the two were pretty much night and day in terms of demeanor as he joined the group and soon learned the stern looking man was Dr. Zaid Mirani. The moment they announced they would be distributing cases, Rai slid over to Dr. Ines’ side, deciding it was better to go to someone familiar. “Hi, Dr. Hayashi! Remember me?” she greeted and Rai grinned, telling her it was alright to call him by his given name. Frankly, the orientation she gave as she handed him his cases was best described as bubbly sunshine.

Once he had his cases in hand, he happened to hear Jackie finish her talk with Dr. Zaid. He blinked and thought, “(And I thought Uncle Greg was strict)” before meeting with Jackie. Apparently, Dr. Zaid was best described as an ass, and when Rai had told her what Dr. Ines was like, she gave a shudder before stating she preferred working with the ass to Rai’s amusement. Later on after they were set off to their cases, Rai found himself paged to meet Dr. Ines along with his group of interns.

It seems that they would be starting their rounds now and Dr. Ramsey would be joining them. At that announcement, it looked as if Landry would burst and collapse from excitement at the same time. Suddenly, Dr. Ramsey wryly stated, “Let’s see who the interns are going to kill today” and Rai froze. “That’s uncalled for” he muttered, his eyes icy and fists clenched. Somehow, Dr. Ramsey seemed to have heard him, “Something to say, Dr. Hayashi?” he asked, clearly daring the intern to speak up.

Ignoring the awed whispers from the other interns over Dr. Ramsey knowing his name, Rai squared his shoulders. A crackle seemed to spark between the two as their eyes met, “Yes, actually” he started, “It’s only the second day. There is no need to make, frankly, crass statements to test our confidence” tone cold, he stood firm, not backing down from Dr. Ramsey’s gaze. Dr. Ines anxiously looked between the two and tried to defuse the tension and move things along. Then, Dr. Ramsey asked, “Has your confidence been tested then?”

“No, doctor” Rai firmly stated and the crackling tension seemed to settle into a quiet rumble. Dr. Ramsey nodded, “Good. Because if I scare you, then you aren’t remotely prepared for what you’ll face on a daily basis here” then a glint entered his eye, “Actually, why don’t we start rounds with your patient?” he rhetorically asks. Rai had no chance to answer before the group was led to a patient’s room. The man sat up as they entered, “Uh, are my eyes going, or are they multiplying?” he asked.

Dr. Ramsey, who had moved to the side, answered, “Good morning, Mr. Knoblauch. They multiply. It’s horrible.” As he said this, Rai mentally pulled at his hair while screeching over the whiplash the man was giving him with his attitude. Outwardly, he was as calm as can be as he reassured the patient and introduced the patient, Mike Knoblauch, and his case. The moment he gave the floor to Landry, he could see that the male was nervous with Dr. Ramsey. It didn’t help that Dr. Ramsey gave a retort to Landry’s stuttering.

Catching his fellow intern’s eye, he mouthed, “You got this” and mimed taking a deep breath. Landry shot him a grateful look before continuing with his presentation. He still stumbled a bit, but managed to relay the rest of the patient’s details. The moment he finished and Dr. Ramsey gave a nod of approval, Landry mouthed his thanks to Rai. Then, Aurora spoke up from behind the group, questioning their seriousness over the internal bleeding found. Rai nodded in acknowledgement of the question and answered it with his assessment. Mike then asked how long he would be stuck in the hospital.

He was rather upset hearing it would take it a week. What’s more, he was angered at the prospect of the hospital profiting from his prolonged stay. Rai was quick to sympathise with him and explain that they had to be careful, urging him to think of his son should something happen. Mike grumbled but relented at that. They then continued on with their rounds and by the end of it, Rai felt like flopping on the ground for a break.

He barely heard Dr. Ines’ congratulations and Dr. Ramsey’s warning to the group as his mind conjured a miniature version of him flopped on a cloud. When Landry came over to thank him for earlier, he gave a small grin and a thumbs up. Just as he was about to go for a water break, he sees Dr. Ramsey beckoning to him. “Not you Rookie, you’ve got one more to present” he told the intern. Mentally, Rai wailed as alarms rang out, but nodded nonetheless and followed the man.

They enter a room where a woman sits up and smiles at them. Even with her arm in a cast, her smile managed to light up the room. With her gaze at Rai she stated, “Please tell me, you’re my new doctor.” At that, Rai gave a chuckle before turning to Dr. Ramsey for confirmation. Upon hearing what happened to the patient’s previous doctor; Rai’s mind provided the mental image of Dr. Ramsey literally kicking a faceless man in a golf outfit with a stethoscope out of the hospital. He had to bite the inside of cheek to stop from laughing before he presented the case as instructed.

When he grabbed the chart, he did a quick read and his brows furrowed. “Patient is Kyra Santana, twenty-eigth years old. She has a fractured radius in need of casting” he paused as he caught Dr. Ramsey’s assessing look, “But you clearly know that already so that means there’s more to this” he muttered before flipping through the chart and scanning it. Spotting the anomaly he declared, “The main issue isn’t the broken arm, it’s her cancer, you brought me here to see if I could detect a bigger picture” before fighting a flush as he saw Dr. Ramsey nod in approval.

“You’re not completely hopeless then Rookie” he offered before lecturing, “The real problem isn’t always obvious. If it was, they’d let any idiot become a doctor” ending with a snort. Rai tilted his head and looked at Kyra, “If she’s here for a treatment, then… where does the broken arm come in?” he wondered.

Kyra gave a grin before explaining how she had been on her way to a C.T. when she spotted an abandoned bike at the side of the street. She had apparently always wanted to learn how to ride a bike and took it as a sign. Problem was, she was worse at riding a bike than she thought she was and ended up wiping out. Rai gave a laugh at the, “Well, at least no one can say you don’t have guts” he told her. She pointed at him and exclaimed, “Right?!” before the two were interrupted by Dr. Ramsey asking Rai what the treatment plan was. “Well, I’m sure she already has a treatment plan so I’ll get to work on casting her arm” he stated before Dr. Ramsey nodded and told him to do that before leaving.

Rai turned back to Kyra, "Alright then! Let's get that cast on you and send you for the scan. How's that sound?" He asked. “Tragic, for a first date” she responded and Rai barked a laugh. He ruffled his hair and told her, “An A+ for effort, would have worked if I didn’t bat for the other team.” Kyra gave a mock sigh and snapped her fingers, “Damn, they were right, all the hot guys ARE gay, taken, or both” she mused.

Rai gave a grin at that, "Ah, it usually depends, if it makes you feel any better, I don't really mind it” he consoled. A mischievous grin was his response, “Good. Then I’ll do it incessantly” she stated. Another laugh escaped Rai, “Just make sure you leave time to beat cancer” he joked to her. She seemed to dim at that and even tried to show a brave face by joking over living as much as possible with death near. Rai immediately corked that by encouraging her before urging her to give him her arm.

Once her arm was cast she thanked him by addressing him by his title before he told her to call him by his name. She grinned at that, brightening once more as she asked him to be the first to sign her cast. Considering what to write, Rai grinned before writing “Carpe Diem” and signing his name in kanji. Kyra peered at the characters and asked, “You didn’t write some weird phrase like they do with those character tattoos did you?” gesturing to the kanji Rai wrote.

Briefly adopting a look of mock hurt to make Kyra snort in amusement, Rai shook his head, “It’s my name” he explained, “My last name is written as forest while my first name is written as lightning” pointing to the respective characters. “Badass…” Kyra breathed before looking at Rai, “You know… I’ll be here pretty often, cancer and all, so…” her grin seemed to say it all. Rai gave an answering smile. “I’ll see you around Kyra, and hopefully with no more broken bones” he said as he left, laughing as he heard her call, “No promises!” when he stepped out the room.

Later as he was checking on other patients, he distantly heard the sound of something approaching. Due to years of learning when to dodge out of necessity, Rai had flattened himself against a wall before Dr. Ramsey even finished his yell of “Out of the way Hayashi!” and past him with several other staff wheeling a seizing patient on a gurney. When another doctor arrived to ask about the patient, Rai did a double take upon hearing him call Dr. Ramsey by his first name, Taking another look at the man, Rai blinked as he soon recognized him as Dr. Naveen Banerji; Dr. Ramsey’s mentor.

Rai knew that if he had a tail, it would be wagging wildly to match the stars in his eyes. “Trying not to fanboy there too hard Hayashi?” he heard a voice asks and turns to see Bryce grinning at him. Lightly smacking the surgical intern’s shoulder he huffed, “Jerk, we can’t all be as carefree as you” before sighing, “Man, I would have loved to see them in action.”

A mischievous spark entered Bryce’s eyes, “Who says you can’t?” he offered, raising his surgeon keycard. Realizing his implication, Rai turned to him with wide hopeful eyes, unintentionally giving the other male a puppy eye look. Bryce gave a chuckle at that before ruffling Rai’s hair and gesturing for him to follow. The two tried to not draw attention as they crept to the observation deck.

“I owe you one Bryce” Rai whispered as they settled in the room; “I’ll remember that” Bryce whispered back, a devilish grin on his face. Responding by sticking out his tongue at the other, Rai turned his attention to the O.R. As he mentally took notes, he heard Bryce murmur, “Where’s the fireworks? Are they gonna cut him open or what?” and he turned to give the surgical intern a deadpan look.

“Ha ha, always got to have the clever line don’t you?” he whispered. Bryce gave an unrepentant shrug, “Always” he whispered back, “But seriously, they’re standing around talking. Why didn’t you want to be a surgeon?” his question throwing Rai off. For a moment, Rai was silent, then he met Bryce’s eyes with his, “That’s… a story meant for another time” he murmured, a flash of sadness crossing his eyes as he said it. This seemed to surprise Bryce before he nodded in understanding and patted Rai’s shoulder.

Nodding his thanks, Rai turned his attention back to the diagnosticians, enraptured by the work they were doing. The different pieces soon came into place and Rai murmured out the problem and Bryce smiled, impressed. As the doctors finished up their analysis Rai murmured, “It’s no wonder they’re known as the best with skills like that” sighing in admiration. He then turned to Bryce and asked, “Is it okay if I ask why you became a surgeon?”

Bryce nodded, “Always liked fixing things. Appliances, stuff around the house, you know?” he explained and Rai gave a hum. He found himself looking at Bryce in a brighter light, “So you think people are like unique machines, sometimes needing a fix and with how different every person can be in different ways, fixing them is like… a new experience each time” he surmised and Bryce quietly exclaimed, “You get it!”

The surgical intern then perked when he noticed that the patient had been placed into his coma. He seemed to lean in closer for a better look, “They finally knocked him out? Nice. Now comes the cutting right?” he asked and Rai snorted. He knocked their shoulders together, “You’re incorrigible!” he muttered to him, nearly knocking Bryce over before they burst into giggles. At that moment, Dr. Ramsey glances up at the observation window. The two quickly duck down and with a pounding heart Rai hissed to Bryce, “Time to go.”

Bryce empathically nodded and the two quickly snuck out. Once they were back in the hallway, Rai gave a breathless laugh, “That… was great! Thanks again Bryce” he enthused to the other, grinning brightly. “Ah, as if I could say no to those puppy eyes of yours, and now you owe me one!” Bryce responded, cheekily pinching Rai’s cheek.

Playfully slapping Bryce’s hand away, Rai rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes, I’ll brace myself for whatever you got up your sleeves for me in the future, now shoo! We both got work to get back to. Bryce laughed before sneaking in a boop on Rai’s nose and running off with a wave. Giving another eyeroll, Rai went back to his rounds.

Later on, Landry and him checked on Mike and learned more details about him and even his son, they mulled over his condition. After considering all the possibilities and what they learned from Mike, the duo soon managed to find the problem. They soon relayed a treatment plan to the patient, with Rai assuring him that while it would take time and work, he would be able to get out of the hospital soon enough.

While the two did a mini (though slightly awkward on Landry’s part) celebration, they received a text from Sienna. Apparently the landlord had responded but if they didn’t go now, there was a high chance the apartment would go to someone else. Landry urged him to join Sienna and Elijah, stating that he would handle things at the hospital. After making sure it was really alright with Landry, he quickly set off.

It didn’t take long for the trio to be rushing towards the apartment building. Suffice to say, it was worth the rush when they were presented with the apartment. Just as they were imagining themselves in the beautiful place, the landlord, Farley, quickly dashed things down. Apparently a tech group had made a rather big bid on the place as well. It took some quick thinking but Rai managed to seal the deal once he and the others managed to convince the man they would be more reliable in terms of meeting rent and maintaining the apartment. Plus they sweetened the deal by adding in Sienna’s treats once a week.

Days later, Rai and his friends were happily settling into their new apartment when he realized that he had left his I.D. at the hospital. Well, it was lucky that it was only 10 minutes away now.

#open heart #oh fic #m!mc #m!mc x ethan ramsey #carrisa writes #in your eyes

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clumsyclifford · 4 years

Note

intimacy prompts - 37 with mashton? feels like it would work for them

i got this idea and then i just felt like a compelling need to write it im sorry im not taking these prompts literally enough however this plot is absolutely crucial frankly i don’t know why it’s not employed in fic more often

“This stuff doesn’t work,” Ashton says.

Michael frowns. “You’re saying you don’t want to fall in love with me?”

“I’m saying there are better ways to fall in love than to just a bunch of questions,” Ashton says. “If I were going to be in love with you, don’t you think I’d have done it by now? I’ve known you for, like, seven years.”

“I’m pretty sure you are in love with me and you’re just in denial,” Michael says dismissively. “But that’s not the point. I’m just curious. Look, worst case scenario it doesn’t work and we just become closer friends.”

“And best case scenario?” Ashton asks, raising his eyebrows. He can’t really think of a best case scenario here, because falling in love with Michael through a series of carefully curated questions just feels fraudulent, and Ashton wouldn’t believe himself if it “worked.”

“We fall in love,” Michael says. “Duh.”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Fine. But I want it on the record that I don’t think there’s any merit to this experiment, and I’m mostly doing it so I can have material to blackmail you with.”

Michael smirks. “Sure you are.”

(And maybe a little bit because he’s curious to see what will happen. If maybe it is possible to fall in love in thirty-six questions. If Ashton were going to fall for anyone this easily, he reckons it would be Michael.)

Some of the questions are kind of funny. When Ashton asks Michael, “Would you like to be famous? In what way?” Michael snorts before going off about how badly he wants to be a rock star, and how he’s worried he’ll never make it, because everyone in his band sucks and he doesn’t know if this song he wrote is good enough for any record labels. Then Ashton hits him and tells him that if they’re really going to do this, they have to be honest, and from there it gets, well.

“If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?” Michael reads, and then props his chin in his hand and looks expectantly at Ashton.

If Ashton had known just how probing these questions would be, he’s not sure he’d have agreed to this game. (If it can be called a game.) It’s not that he’s uncomfortable, but it’s hard to be open and honest like this, with no buffer, just him, Michael, and the truth.

“Nothing,” Ashton says, which is the only truthful answer he can come up with. Michael looks unimpressed. “I mean it. I wouldn’t want to know anything. What’s the point of life if you can just look up the answers? Why, what would you say?”

“I —” Michael purses his lips. “I’m not sure. But not nothing. I guess, I don’t know, I’d want to know if the band will last.”

“But if you knew the band would last, you’d stop working as hard to keep it together,” Ashton says. “And if you knew it wouldn’t, you’d just give up, wouldn’t you?”

“Would not,” Michael says, defensive, almost offended. “I’d do my best to make sure that future never came true.”

“It’s the future, Mike. It’s — it’s going to come true, that’s the point.”

“If the future tells me something I don’t like, I have every right to try and fight it,” Michael says stubbornly. “The band doesn’t tank unless I say it does.”

Ashton’s gut twists, although not in an unpleasant way. Actually, the dogged determination to protect what he loves is one of Ashton’s favorite things about Michael, and hearing him talk about the band like he’d rather die than lose it is making Ashton feel, well, something. He’s not sure what, and not sure he wants to know, although he has a feeling it’ll identify itself before the thirty-six questions are through.

They work through a few more questions in the second set. Then Michael, slightly strangled, says, “Uh. How close and warm is your family?” He clears his throat. “Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?”

“That’s two questions,” Ashton says.

“It’s written as one,” Michael tells him, turning his phone around like Ashton won’t take him at his word. “Well, uh. Go ahead. It’s your turn.”

Ashton bites his lip. “You already know all of this about me,” he says, which is an evasion tactic, and Michael sees right through it.

“You — it’s part of the thing,” he says. “If you don’t want to answer it, I guess…”

“No, I just — I don’t think I’m going to say anything surprising.” Ashton sighs. “How close and warm is my family? Enough. My mum’s gotten better at keeping us close. I think it helps that I have money now. My childhood was unhappy until I joined the band. So, no. I don’t think it was happier than most people’s.”

“Until you joined the band?” Michael echoes, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Like, I didn’t really have anything pushing me forward until that. It gave me direction. And three new friends, which didn’t hurt.”

“You’ve never said that,” Michael says, studying Ashton. Ashton feels like he’ll wilt under Michael’s gaze, too vulnerable, too easy to pull apart.

“Yeah, well.” Ashton clears his throat. “It’s your turn.” He wants to avert his gaze but also really, really doesn’t, and is saved by Michael looking away to reread the question from his phone, and they move forward.

The deeper they get into the questions, especially in the third set, the more Ashton wants to crack a joke, and the worse it feels to do so. They’re in the thick of it now, and even if it’s just a test, to see if it works, it’s not exactly the kind of thing Ashton wants to laugh at — just in case it does. (It can’t. There’s no way it could, because Ashton’s known Michael all this time, and hasn’t been in love with him.

And yet.)

“Tell your partner what you like about them,” Michael reads. “Be very honest — say things you might not say to someone you’ve just met.” He gives Ashton a lopsided smile. “Good thing we didn’t just meet. Lay it on me, Irwin.”

Ashton licks his lips, which suddenly feel dry. “Okay,” he says. This shouldn’t be hard. There’s a lot he likes about Michael. But all of the things immediately flying to Ashton’s tongue are things he would say to a complete stranger; surface compliments, or basic acknowledgements of skill. You’re a good guitarist is ridiculously shallow, and even you’re very dedicated sounds too vague to be true.

“I like that you’re the kind of person who knows how to heal,” Ashton says quietly. Michael furrows his brow. “I mean, I like that you’re someone who doesn’t ever fully break. You’re — you’re so strong, and you put up with so much shit, and every single time, I think, this is it, this is going to be the one that breaks him, but I’m always wrong. I’m glad I’m always wrong. I don’t know what I’d do if you really did break, but I’m always amazed. I’ve never — I think I’m the type to shatter, but you’re not. You can pick yourself up. I admire that about you. I always have.”

Michael swallows. “Oh. That’s — that’s really, like. Thank you, I think.”

Ashton rubs the back of his neck. For some reason, he feels more like an open book from this question — which is really, for him, about Michael — than any of the other ones. “Yeah,” he says. “Uh, you go.”

“I don’t really know how to follow that,” Michael says lightly. Ashton cracks a smile. “Okay, well, um. Alright. I like that you have this, I don’t know, endless optimism. It doesn’t make any sense to me, because I feel like with all the shit you’ve gone through, you should be full of, like, hate, and anger, but instead you always smile, and you believe in people, and,” Michael gestures aimlessly, unaware of the way Ashton’s palms feel clammier every second, “I don’t know. You’re relentless in your optimism, even though you’ve been burned. More than once. I don’t think I could be like that if I — but you are. So…I admire that. It’s very — noble.”

“Noble,” Ashton murmurs, cheeks pink. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“Not really,” Michael says. “It’s just true.” But that makes Ashton feel even warmer, a fizzing sensation building in his chest that he can’t really diagnose. He’s used to pressure like this, but usually it’s anxiety or something, not — whatever’s happening right now, doing this. This kind of pressure feels like it needs to be relieved by someone else.

They make their way through the last of the questions, and by the time they’re through, Ashton feels like he’s just been on the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime. “I need water,” he says.

“Get me some?” Michael requests, with a halfway smile. Ashton chuckles and takes his leave, returning with two glasses of water.

“Well,” he says delicately, “how do you feel? In love with me?”

“It’s not finished,” Michael says. Ashton frowns; he’s pretty sure there are only thirty-six questions. “Now we have to look into each others’ eyes for four minutes.”

“What?” That’s just...strange. And the more Ashton thinks about it, the more nervous he gets. “Why?”

Michael shrugs. “That’s what the article says. Answer the questions, then look into each others’ eyes for four minutes.”

“Four minutes,” Ashton says hoarsely. “That’s kind of long.”

“I think that’s the point,” Michael says. “Shall we?”

Ashton’s panic response is kicking in, but he’s in too deep now to back out. “Sure,” he manages. Michael smiles, soft and small the way he only ever does for Ashton, and some of Ashton’s tension dissipates.

They sit across from each other, cross-legged on the rug, hands in their laps, and Michael sets a four-minute timer on his phone. “Ready?” he asks. Ashton’s not sure he’s ever going to be ready for this particular task, but it doesn’t really matter; Michael hits the start button and then he’s confronted with Michael’s eyes, gazing into his own, and the realization that it’s going to be this for the next four minutes.

For what feels like an eternity, Ashton twists his fingers around themselves, nervous energy manifesting in fidgeting hands, and he keeps wanting to look away, desperate to close whatever window is being opened right now, because he’s absolutely certain that Michael is seeing into his soul. Then Michael reaches across and gently wraps Ashton’s hands up in his own.

“Stop fidgeting,” he whispers. Ashton can feel the calluses on Michael’s fingertips skimming across the back of Ashton’s hands. He stops fidgeting, but Michael doesn’t take his hands back, and Ashton finds himself hoping he doesn’t decide to.

Michael’s eyes are very pretty. Ashton zeroes in on that fact. They’re the kind of green that looks like sea glass, maybe, and they’re ridiculously easy to get lost in. Again and again, Ashton has to force himself not to look away. He’s never stared at anyone this intently, for this long, in this kind of silence that feels loaded with tension.

(Since when is it loaded with tension?)

Michael’s palm is warm against the back of Ashton’s hand, and Ashton thinks about that, about how Michael always feels warm when Ashton needs him to be, and thinks about the thirty-six questions, and wonders why they were supposed to make him fall in love with Michael. Most of those questions hadn’t been the kind of thing you’d fall in love with for anyone. Knowing that the last time Michael cried by himself was last night, watching Bambi, shouldn’t really make Ashton fall in love. It wouldn’t.

Although the knowledge that Michael has been crying alone at all is pretty painful. So is the fact that Michael had clearly been relieved to share that information, as if, slightly less recently, he’d cried on his own for something a little heavier than Bambi. Ashton wants to know what it was. He wants to be the person who holds Michael together while he stitches himself up. Michael’s always had an instrumental role in his life — it had been Michael, in the first place, who’d recruited Ashton for the band — and Ashton could spend all his days trying to return that favor and still come up short.

The pressure in his chest, or the butterflies, or the sparkling soda, whatever it is is back with a vengeance, bubbling over until Ashton feels hot and cold all over. He tightens his grip on Michael’s hands.

The realization that they could kiss right now doesn’t so much hit as settle easily into Ashton’s already volatile mind. In fact, Ashton thinks, he kind of wants to kiss Michael like this. It feels like a natural extension of the questions and the staring, the next bridge to cross, the easiest way to communicate to Michael that — well.

It’s not that Ashton’s fallen in love with Michael, it’s just that maybe being in love with Michael has been Ashton’s reality for a little longer than he’d known.

As soon as that thought lands, the timer on Michael’s phone goes off, a breezy alarm song that startles them both. Michael tugs a hand out of Ashton’s grasp to turn the alarm off, and the eye contact breaks for a second, but Ashton stills feels like he’s in a trance, especially when Michael immediately turns back to him, eyes wide and questioning, head at a halfway tilt.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, which is not what Ashton had expected him to ask, and catches him by surprise, enough that he actually says what he’s thinking, though he shouldn’t, though it’s a dangerous train of thought, though it’s probably a mistake because Ashton still doesn’t really believe in the magical thirty-six (and a half) questions.

“I want to kiss you,” he tells Michael, holding unconsciously tighter to Michael’s hand.

Michael exhales, a sigh of…maybe relief. “Oh, thank God.” And he leans in, freeing his hand from Ashton’s grasp to put both palms against Ashton’s cheeks, fingers curling around the back of his head, and kisses him.

The bubbling pressure in Ashton’s chest feels light and airy all of a sudden. Ashton reaches for Michael, anything to get his hands on him, and settles an unsteady hold on Michael’s shoulders just to anchor them in place. The angle’s awful — they’re both still sitting on the floor — but the kiss feels like coming home, and it makes more sense to Ashton than most of the other things in his life. Michael is uncharacteristically gentle with him (Ashton’s seen him kiss other people, knows how rough and tumble he can be), and after a moment, not long enough, he breaks away, resting his forehead against Ashton’s. Ashton’s whole face feels too warm.

“Believe me now?” Michael teases. It takes Ashton a second to understand what he’s talking about.

“I’m not in love with you,” he says, but the way his heart sinks at that, and the way Michael flinches backwards, immediately disprove that statement. “Okay, I might be, but not because of the questions.”

Michael smiles, which turns into something of a smirk, but without losing any of its initial gentleness. “Well, it worked for me.”

Ashton finds that difficult to believe. “You can’t be in love with me now just because you know more about me.”

“Well, I already liked you a whole fucking lot,” Michael says easily.

Ashton does a double-take. “You did?”

Michael sighs. “Oh, Ashton. You’d be the worst if you weren’t the best.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ashton says, although he fails to bite back a smile. “So now you’re in love with me?”

“I’d be an idiot not to be.” Michael pushes himself to his feet and then holds out a hand for Ashton to do the same. He doesn’t step backwards when Ashton rises, leaving virtually no space between them. “I want to kiss you again.”

“You can kiss me as many times as you want,” Ashton says breathlessly, and Michael does.

#i cant believe this but i genuinely didnt reread this before posting it so you get completely unedited bella writing!! enjoy :) or dont :)#ashton irwin #michael clifford #mashton fic #mashton #5sos fic #fic #my fic #i stayed up late to write this for you <3 it's nearly 4am now and i have to be up at nine <3 i hate myself #cravinsomethinsweeter #ask #answered #5sos

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richie-txzier · 4 years

Text

holding hands with your heart.

so a while ago @ahoylovers tagged this post with hanziercore and i agreed with it so much i wrote 4k words about it! so enjoy some meet-cute au hanzier!

~*~*~

"Mr Tozier."

Richie's finger froze on the valve of his aerosol can, the spray of black paint ceasing on its path to create the harsh and censoring block on the brick wall. The flashes of blue and red washed around his vision, casting a shadow against his project from his own hoodied form and a faded, doubled figure of the police officer behind him. He lowered the bandanna he'd fashioned for a mask before slowly turning around, lifting his arms and dropping the can.

"Evening, Chief. A bit chilly tonight, huh?"

The police officer sighed, a ghost of a smile on his lips and walked towards the boy with resigned steps, the halo of blazing lights dimming as he ventured closer to reveal his tired and familiar face. Richie grinned with squinted eyes through the bright light, the wind tugging at his hood to pull it down back over his curls, the ringlets blowing into his shadowed face, paint smudged across his cheekbone.

"What're you doin', Tozier?"

Richie's smile faltered for a moment, his raised hand falling to push his hair back from his face and his expression dimmed to of one more serious, "Look, Chief Hanlon, sir, I know it's technically illegal, but you've seen the shit- I mean stuff those fuckers- sorry, I mean, horrible people write on here. It's disgusting and you n' I both know the goddamn city council aren't gonna do shit about it so I uh,"

"Decided to participate in some late-night vigilante justice?" Police Chief Hanlon remarked, trying his hardest not to display the amusement, or even worse the pride, that was pulling at his features. Richie shrugged in response, at least showing a bit of guilt as he looked at the ground.

"Yeah."

Chief Hanlon sighed again, deeper and paired with a hand wiping at his brow, "Mr Tozier," He met his eyes, "Richie. You know I have to take you in for this. No matter how honourable your intentions were."

"For the record, I wasn't planning on getting caught," Richie smirked a little, "That's just a bit of a bonus; I do love our police car chats."

Restraining an eye roll, the Police Chief reached to his belt to unfurl his handcuffs from it's attached pocket, "You know the drill."

Richie obediently turned around, hands gravitating to the small of his back and barely flinching at the touch of cold metal against his wrists. Hanlon made quick work of clicking the handcuffs, frowning at the thinness of his wrists, before clapping a firm hand to his shoulder and leading him to the car, the two of them bathed in blinding light.

The movements of getting into the car were practised: Hanlon opening the door, Richie shuffling expertly into the back seat with restrained hands, Hanlon closing the door behind him and then circling his way around to the driver's seat. Seasoned, compliant, and far too familiar.

When Hanlon started the car and turned off the light, he adjusted his rear-view mirror to watch as Richie relinquished to tilted his head back against the seat, eyes gravitating out the window. He breathed deeply out his nose, hand sliding across the steering wheel as he turned onto the dark road towards the station.

"You know you're a good kid, Richie." He started, and watched in the mirror as Richie looked over a bit alarmed, used to the simpler, more offensive talks of 'Your cause doesn't outweigh the crime.' and, 'If this happens again more serious consequences will have to follow.'. But the sincerity in the Police Chief’s voice threw Richie off for a moment, and honestly, it did Hanlon as well. He didn't entirely know what possessed him to need to say the things he did; maybe it was the blocked out slur the boy had been working on that was very much obviously personal to his family.

"In theory." A mumble replied.

"I'm serious, kid. You've got morals; and not just that - guts. But you just- you go about it the wrong way. You gotta leave it sometimes."

"I can't. You know I can't."

A pause.

"And I know you can't either, sir."

Hanlon pursed his lips, knuckles tightening on the wheel, "Maybe not. But I'm not a punk kid with a spray can," Richie hung his head and Hanlon's grip relaxed along with the slope of his shoulders, "You gotta pick your battles, kid, because seeing you staring at me under these lights with your hands in the air is not a sight I look forward to, believe it or not."

The two of them sat for a moment, Hanlon focusing on staring out the windshield at the dark autumn evening, the crackling and soft voices of his radio unheard. He saw Richie blinking rapidly and his chest lurched. With a quick executive decision, he decided that that seemed to be enough and reached for the radio knob.

"Any requests?" His voice lighter, more like the cheerful Police Chief who ruffled his curls when he saw him at the Summer Parade.

A smile curled at Richie's mouth and he eyed the small disco ball dangling from the rear-view mirror, "Got any disco?"

"Earth, Wind & Fire it is."

The first chords of September were quietly strumming through the cruising police car when the car phone shrilled, the two of them flinching in surprise. Hanlon quickly picked it up, ignoring Richie's back seat remark about the danger of calling and driving.

"Police Chief Hanlon."

"Hey Pop, Ma wants to know when your shift's gonna end so she can make supper." Mike Hanlon's voice rattled through, the faint murmur of voices in the background along with another few ringings made him wonder where he was. He checked the time on the dashboard.

"It'll be closer to 7, Mikey. Tell your ma to keep a plate warm for me. Where are you, son?"

"I'm at the station. Is it okay if I come home with you? FInd anything on your rounds?"

Hanlon glanced towards the mirror to Richie looking curiously back at him and he smiled lightly, "Yeah. Got some 18-year-old punk I caught graffitiing the Townhouse," He ignored Richie's protests, "Bringing him back just to write 'im up."

He heard Mike hum and then chuckle on the other end, "Hm, is he cute?"

Hanlon frowned, and he turned a little towards Richie to peer at him over his shoulder, "My son wants to know if you're cute."

Richie grinned and leaned forward, cocking his head cheekily and charmingly, "I want to say yes, sir."

Police Chief Hanlon barked in laughter, Mike echoing his own chuckles in his ear and Richie grinned wider, settling back as he contently watched the many laughter lines in the Chiefs face deepen.

"Alright, alright," Hanlon's chuckles subsided and he readjusted the phone on his ear, hands gliding over the wheel as he turned the car into the car park, "I'll see you inside."

"'Kay Pop, see ya."

Hanlon yanked up the brake and the car jerked to a stop, the lamppost cemented into a small fenced plot of grass beaming through the windshield to ignite how the Police Chief's head resigned forwards. Richie's stomach dropped.

The next few moments were once again painfully practised: Hanlon lumbering out his seat, opening the back car door for Richie to shuffle out, Hanlon's hand firm on his bicep to keep him balanced, it then moving to between his shoulder blades as to guide him towards the precinct.

"Evening, Ellie!" Richie grinned in greeting at the receptionist twirling a strand of stray greying auburn hair around her finger, staring dully at her computer screen. She looked blandly towards the boy, very accustomed to his behaviour, but her dark green eyes twinkled with hidden affection.

"Back already, Richard? I'd've thought you'd at least want to wash before you got caught again?" She smirked, letting the ringlet fall to bump against her freckled and rouged cheek.

"Yowza!" Richie barked, as Hanlon worked through a document Richie never bothered to learn of, "Mrs M, you know I only keep coming back for you."

"Clearly." She hummed, taking back and looking over the clipboard, looking back at him at the low angle to make Richie snort.

"How’s Bev doin’?" He asked, pushing on his toes to watch as she ducked under the desk to pull out his file, one bent and ripped a bit from frequent use.

"Mhm," Her tongue smudged at her painted bottom lip as she fiddled with the paper clip to slide the sheet behind the others, "Home today as I'm afraid she's grounded."

"Oh no." Richie murmured, Mrs Marsh oblivious to his secret smile as he was well aware that Beverly Marsh was currently on a date with Ben Hanscom at the cinema tonight, "Shame."

She hummed and pulled out yet another file from under her desk. And then another. And another.

Hanlon looked at her in disbelief, pen poised midair. Elfrida shrugged, leafing through yet another box of files labelled 'T', "Mr Tozier has collected quite the anthology."

The irate side look Richie received from the Police Chief only made him grin.

"Richie, I'm gonna be here for a bit, go up and sit by my desk." Hanlon sighed as he clicked his pen in defeat and opened the first file of the small mountain.

Richie saluted as best he could without his hands, more of a tilting nod than anything, "Yessir!"

Winding his way through the precinct, he passed empty chairs and dark desks, finding the quiet of the area with no phones thrilling, only the distant quiet hum of the cleaners in the corridors, actually quite peaceful. The damp floors squeaked underfoot, and he nodded at Adrian Mellon in a greeting and apology for waking him in the holding cell - caught fighting again probably by the black bruise around his eye, but won by the fact he'd been given the pillow and threadbare blanket. The office at the end of the room was one of the few lights still on, and, with a practised move backwards and with his shoulders, he opened the door and-

"Well hello there."

The boy had his feet propped up on the polished oak as he sat in the chair facing the desk - Richie's chair, thank you very much - and he was about to remind of him of that fact when he looked back at him. Oh, it was Mike, of course, it was because that would make sense, obviously, he was the chief's son, and who else would be here so late looking especially good in his denim jacket and blue converse and dark eyes and dimpled smile-

Mike smiled politely, a little crooked in question, "...Hi?"

"I believe you are sat in my seat, but if you just stand up, I'll gladly give you a better one." He winked and Mike's face grew hot but his smile widened, eyes crinkling in an adorable, genuine way that made Richie almost want to apologise for his vulgarity.

“Have I seen you before?” Mike asked, standing up for Richie to shuffle around him and sit. He got a waft of a clean dusty smell. He smirked.

“Maybe from your dreams, gorgeous.” He manoeuvred his cuffed hands into the empty space of the back of the chair to lean back and look up at his face. Mike chuckled before his features turned thoughtful and he searched his face for a few moments. Richie was starting to feel uncomfortable under his soft stare of warm dark eyes. He clicked suddenly.

“Bev Marsh. Don’t you hang out with her?”

Richie blinked, “Yeah. But don’t worry, sugar, she’s just a side piece.”

Mike hummed and turned to perch on the edge of his father’s desk, crossing his arms, “I know her boyfriend, Ben. I think I see you two smoking outside school sometimes,” He gave a pointed look with a hint of a smile, “Dirty habit.”

“I’m dirty in other places too.” The words fell out his mouth before he thought about it, as usual, and at this point, most people would’ve gotten sick of his indelicate flirting, but Mike laughed, head falling forward and his hand lifting to cover his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm sure," He chuckled, sliding his hands into his jeans pockets, and tilted his head, a playful frown on his face. He jerked his chin, "What did you get busted for, Tozier?"

"Second-degree homicide, I'm afraid," Richie sighed, a bit hypnotised by the way Mike's eyes crinkled in the corners, "Goin’ away for a long time, I expect."

Mike hummed, smiling until Richie could see a peek of his teeth, "Anyone I know?"

Richie caught his breath, "No, no. Just my wealthy husband so I could claim the millions in life insurance when I get out."

"Millions?" Mike feigned thoughtfulness, "Hm. Got room for another in this plan? I could be your alibi lover?"

Richie blinked and swallowed, hard. All of his thoughts was a sudden cacophony of, holy shit he's flirting with me, with a commanding louder order of, don't fuck it up. But then Mike winked at him and his mouth opened, "You'd have to share the conjugal visits with your mom though." Fuck.

But Mike barks in loud laughter, the force of it bending him over. Unfortunately, his hands were still tucked in his pockets meaning that as he tipped forwards, he shifted his centre of balance, and had him falling directly on top of Richie. Luckily for Richie's face, Mike had surprisingly good reflexes and managed to catch himself on the arms of the chair. But now-

"Was that seriously a your mom joke?" Richie could feel Mike's breath on his chin, and wow wow wow wow his eyes were even prettier up close and he's smiling at me oh god his mouth is there it's right there holy shit. When Richie didn't reply, Mike caught where his eyes were fixated: his mouth. It was only then he realises just how close they had become. He went to pull back, just a few inches, but his heart-dropped in a sudden jolt of want at how Richie unconsciously followed the movement forward.

Oh,

he wanted to kiss him. His mouth was full and parted. And they were alone. And he was, yes, very cute, and, yes, very funny, and, yes, very, very close right now-

"Mike? You around here?"

Mike jumped back at his father voice, and Richie had to suppress a groan. So close.

"Yeah, Pop, I'm at your desk," Mike called back, straightening his jacket, his eyes focused on where his thumbs rubbed over the buttons. Richie, for a terrifying moment, thought he'd just dreamed the mutual tension, but when Cheif Hanlon rounded the corner, the flustered smile Mike wore as he greeted him had his heart singing, "Just... talking to Richie."

"Oh?" Hanlon dropped some files on his desk, dropped into the dark leather chair with a sigh, and began to search through his drawers, "Do you two know each other?"

"School, and through some friends," Mike caught his eye and smiled.

Richie thought he should contribute something if just to make sure his voice still works, "Mike knows Ben, who's Bev's boyfriend."

Hanlon make a confirming hum, having found the stamp he was looking for and instead flicked through the papers, "Shame Miss Marsh is grounded, I heard the Aladdin is doing a Valentine special this weekend,"

Mike and Richie shared a smile-stifling look.

"Alright, kid," Hanlon shuffled the files together before settling them down and clasping his hands on top of them, "This time I'm letting you off with a warning," Richie leaned forward, "A warning, Richie. Vandalism is a serious crime but compared to what was... previously there, I believe it's fair to say that it was an illegal improvement."

Richie knew a slap on the wrist when he heard it and so nodded along, looking as remorseful as he could despite having absolutely none for his deed, "Yes, sir."

"I'm going to call your father to come pick you up, and I will be explaining why you're here." The Chief finished with a stern look as he stood from his desk, but Richie swore he saw a ghost of a smile. He looked down to hide his own, "Oh, Mikey, here," He passed something to his son on his way out of the door, "I'll meet you by the car, alright, I've still got some things to sort before we lock up."

"Sure," And as he opened his hand, Richie saw it was the keys to his cuffs.

"Oh, thank god," He sighed and stood up, turning his back to Mike, "While these are a very sexy accessory, I don't believe that much in the saying that beauty is pain, ya know-"

His ramblings inhaled to a halt at the feeling of Mike's warm fingers on his wrist. The lock clicked and Richie started to wriggle his arms but Mike placed a hot palm on the inside of his elbow and his body seemed to melt into his touch. His voice was soft with amusement and concentration, "Don't move so much, you'll hurt yourself."

The cuffs slide off his bony wrists with little restriction then and with a clatter they landed on the desk. Richie rolled the joints until they stopped cracking and then stretched them. Mike eyed the practised ease of the movements and caught the edge of his sleeve when he turned to face him, "Here let me."

With a firm thumb, he massaged his pale wrists with his soft, warm hands, kneading the tight muscle until the ache had all but subsided. Richie didn't take his eyes off his focused face. Mike looked up and met his awed eyes and mistook it, and smiled apologetically, letting his hands fall, "I read a lot. I know how bad sore wrists are."

Richie nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, the shape of Mike's fingertips tingling his skin, "Thanks."

Mike smiled again, and Richie noticed he did that a lot, but each was warm, different, like they were sculptured just for him for every moment they shared, "No problem."

They both stood in silence for a moment. Then both began to speak at once,

"What did you-"

"Are you free-"

They both stopped with a laugh. Richie nodded, "You first."

"What did you do?" Mike asked, standing up straighter, "Actually, what did you do? What did my Pop mean with illegal improvement?"

Richie swallowed, something curled in his stomach, and he realised he didn't want to tell him; not because he was ashamed, far from it, but because he knew exactly what he'd done and why he'd done it, and he didn't want it to gain him points with him, or something. He did it because it was the right thing to do, not to win something. So he replied simply, "Oh, just a bit of good ol' graffiti."

Mike cocked his head, "Like what?"

Richie shook his head, with a short laugh, "I don't even remember. I just, sort of," He mimed something similiar to trying to control a wild hose, "Everywhere." And it wasn't technically a lie, "But that wall was really ugly, and I'm basically Jackson Pollock, so I one hundred percent improved it, only for the sake of modern art!"

Laughing, Mike conceded, "Alright, I believe you. Derry isn't exactly the pinnacle of picturesque, so I think I should thank you."

Richie bowed dramatically, making Mike laugh harder and those crinkles around his eyes appeared again. He steeled himself, swallowing and decided to just fuck it, "Do you want to go to movies with me tomorrow."

Mike blinked, "What?"

But Richie wasn't stopping, "Their showing that Valentines Day special thing this weekend, aren't they? I mean, I don't mean you're like my Valentine or something! Unless you want to be? You don't have to answer that, ha ha, I just meant I thought it would be fun, and my friend Stan is working there so we could get in free if you want. I mean, do you even like romance films or anything? I like a couple, like Dirty Dancing, or Pride and Prejudice, or Empire Strikes Back-"

Mike clapped his hands on Richie's shoulder with a chuckle, stopping the boy in his place with big eyes staring up at him, "Empire Strikes Back isn't a romance movie."

Richie blinked owlishly at him, "It had a romance in it."

Mike laughed and searched his face; eyes flicking down to his mouth and then back to eyes with an easy smile, "Won't you be grounded, for possibly ever, after this?"

Richie shrugged a shoulder, "My folks still don't know the lock on my window is loose, so..."

Mike bit his lip, knowing that such a blatant disobedience should not be as attractive as he was finding it, "Then," He bent to pick up his satchel, "If you manage to be at the Aladdin at eight tomorrow, I might just happen to be walking that way back from the library."

Richie grinned. The library is on the other side of town, "I'll be waiting."

Mike grinned shyly back.

"Alright, I better catch ya later, Frank."

"G'night, Will. Say hi to Jess for me, yeah?" He called, hugging the phone receiver to the spot behind his ear, humming into the mouthpiece non-committedly. Hanlon smirked a little as he walked away, twirling his keys in his hand as he waved in confirmation.

"Mike?" He called as he skipped down the stairs into the foyer. With a wave to Elfrida, he figured his son was waiting by the car and punched in the pin to open the door.

With a hefty push, the door swung open and he stopped.

In front of him, was Mike, his back to his father as he very clearly had the Tozier boy pressed against the streetlight in the centre of the car park next to his car, illuminating their little corner. Richie's hands were clutching at the back of Mike's denim jacket as Mike held his cheek, tilting his head into his so the light glinted off his thick glasses over his shoulders. Mike's leg was between Richie's, the hand on his hip holding him pressed against him. The two of their mouths moved rhythmically, the bobbing movement of their jaws indication of how deep their kissing was. Something William Hanlon was not keen on ever seeing.

"Michael!”

They broke apart suddenly, still very much entwined with another one and Richie's cheeks a noticeable pink. Simultaneously, Mike eyes and Richie's mouth widened; Mike ducking his head into Richie's shoulder in embarrassment whilst Richie propped his chin on the denim-clas shoulder to smile and wave at the Police Chief.

"Aren't you supposed to be on your way home, Tozier?" Hanlon remarked as he walked towards the two of them.

"Your darling boy was too seducing I'm afraid, sir," Richie replied, earning him a chuckle from the boy nudging at his neck, "I was corrupted!"

Hanlon huffed, pinching his nose, too tired to process the situation and resorted with a short, "Your Ma'll be waiting, Mike."

Mike picked up his head, looking from his father to Richie and looked at his dad with a nervous smile on his lips, "Could you give us a minute, Pop?"

Hanlon looked between them and then nodded, jingling his keys so he could hold up a finger, "One minute."

As the Police Chief walked around the car, effectively blocking the two boys out, he still caught the small murmurings of them, a chuckle, a sigh. He clambered into the driver's seat and, with a short glance, watched as Richie unfurled from his son to bend down and pick up his satchel, passing it to him with a soft smile and unheard words. Whatever he had said, it made Mike smile just as happily back as he looped the strap over his shoulder, before he slid his hands under the open halves of Richie's leather jacket, Richie's holding his forearms, leaning forward to say something in his ear. Richie smiled through a reply. When Mike tipped back the two shared a short look, one intimate enough to make Hanlon glance away, maybe for the best as he missed how they shared a brief parting kiss.

His attention was brought back by the motion and noise of Mike opening the passenger door and falling into the low seat. Mike rolled down the window, "See you later, Richie."

Richie could hardly wave back, his cheeks a dark pink, straightening his glasses, his grin stuck on his face, "See ya."

Chief Hanlon pulled out of the space, the two of them continuing to wave as he turned to drive down the street - Richie even jogging down the lane a bit to keep in sight of Mike. The Hanlon’s disappeared around the bend with a last double beep of the horn.

Richie smiled into the twilight, staring after the car, hand dangling in the air. Tomorrow.

"Richie Tozier, Mike?"

Mike chuckled, watching the orbs of streetlights blur past the window, illuminating the soft look in his eye, and he lifted a shoulder slightly,

"Bad boys do it better."

"I don't even want to know what that means, son."

#hanzier #mike hanlon #richie tozier #it (movie)#it stephen king #hanzier fic #will hanlon #it fic #it 2017 #mike x richie

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p-eppermintea · 4 years

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Pairing: Erwin Smith / Levi Ackerman (Eruri) Characters: Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Mike Zacharias, Furlan Church, Isabel Magnolia Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: N/A Word Count: 2527 Tags: Enemies, Levi hates Erwin so much lol, mild violence, Erwin kinda sucks, Very slightly implied sub/dom dynamic, only slightly, Set during No Regrets Excerpt / Summary:

“But if I have to beat you into submission, I will. I don’t care who sees, or what they think.” He looks up at Levi, all eyelashes and thick eyebrows. “I will break you.”

The sharp smack of the back of Erwin’s hand connecting with Levi’s cheek resonates throughout the stables. He hits him so hard that Levi is knocked off his feet, sprawling awkwardly across the dirt. He whirls around to look at Erwin, baring his teeth. “Fuck you!” he spits.

Erwin stalks towards him. His hands are balled up into fists at his sides – ready and deadly like any other weapon. “You need to learn some manners.”

“Fuck you,” Levi repeats. His insult is met by a swift hit to the side of his head by Erwin’s shin. He falls back, his head connecting hard against the ground. He can hear a collective gasp from the other trainees, and Furlan and Isabel shouting his name.

Levi barely has time to spit onto the ground before Erwin swoops down to grab him by the collar of his uniform and yank him up to his feet. He holds him just above the ground like a mother cat carrying her young around by the scruff.

Levi bares his teeth at the man, kicking out at him with his legs. Who the fuck does he think he is? He’s convinced that Erwin just likes to take any chance to smack him around like a punching bag. All Levi did was be a little rude to his training officer. It’s not like he even really wants to be here. Perhaps Erwin is trying to prove something, although Levi’s not sure what or to whom. Is he concerned about his position within the Corps? Or perhaps he just does it for fun. Perhaps he just hates me.

Levi wanted to kill Erwin before, but now he really wants to kill him. If it wasn’t practically a death wish, he would take him on right here, right now.

But no. He’ll wait. He’s going to take his time killing Erwin Smith, and he’s going to enjoy it.

Erwin and Levi stare each other down; fierce grey eyes meeting piercing blue. The tension is palpable, and no one says a word or so much as twitches until, finally, Erwin throws Levi back down. Levi stumbles a little, trying to regain his balance. He balls up his fists, fingernails digging almost-painfully into his palms. They continue to stare.

It’s not like Levi can exactly fight back and give it all he’s got right now. Surely not with Mike right behind him, constantly sniffing up Erwin’s ass like some kind of lapdog. He thinks back to Mike’s hand forcing his head into that disgusting puddle. Maybe he’ll make him watch Erwin die, and then kill him after, too.

Erwin’s thick eyebrows furrow. The disdain in his gaze is obvious. “I expect you in my office after training,” he says, and then he turns on the heel of his boot and retreats back towards the office building. Mike follows closely behind, throwing a “Get back to it!” over his shoulder.

As soon as Erwin is completely out of sight, Isabel and Furlan run up to Levi, ready to make a fuss. Levi shrugs them off, though. He’s far too pissed off to even talk to his friends right now. He goes back to his horse and reaches up to stroke the side of her neck. Stay calm. Don’t ruin everything you’ve been working up to.

While everyone else heads to the mess hall for dinner, Levi makes his way to Erwin’s office. Isabel had given him a sad look and promised to save him some of her dinner. Such bullshit that he has to miss out for whatever ridiculousness Erwin has planned. He knocks heavily on the door and waits outside with his hands clasped behind his back. He knows Erwin is in there – he can hear him talking on the other side of the door. He’s left to wait outside for far too long for his liking. He starts to pace outside of the office, painfully impatient.

He’s about to give up and just leave, reluctance obedience be damned, when the door swings open and he’s finally face to face with Erwin. “Levi,” he says, stepping aside. “Come in.”

Levi supresses an annoyed grumble and steps inside the threshold of Erwin’s office. It’s a rather spacious office, almost impressively so. There are a couple of chairs in front of a desk, and a God-ugly rug spread on the wooden floorboards. Mike is leaning against a bookshelf with his arms crossed. The sneer he gives Levi is almost laughable to him.

Erwin strides swiftly past Levi and back to his desk, sitting down at the chair. He folds his hands in front of him neatly and they both stare each other down in silence. Slowly, one of Erwin’s eyebrows lifts. What the fuck does he want from me?

They stare at each other for a while. It’s like some sort of weird standoff. Levi refuses to be the first one to act. As it seems, so does Erwin.

Finally, Mike sighs heavily. “Salute, trainee,” he snaps.

Begrudgingly, Levi stands up straight and slaps his fist against his chest. “Sir,” he says, simply.

Erwin leans back in his chair, crossing his legs on the way. “Levi,” he replies, just as curtly. He has this strange sort of coolness to him. His devil-may-care attitude is downright unappealing, but Levi guesses that’s probably the exact reason why so many people trust him as a captain. Half of the idiots here would die for him in a heartbeat, and it makes Levi sick.

“At ease, Levi,” Erwin commands. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Levi, and he’s half convinced that he doesn’t even blink. Is he trying to be intimidating? “Mike, you can leave us alone.”

Mike leaves without a word, but Levi can feel his glare boring a hole into his back. Glare away, asshole.

Erwin is silent until the door closes behind Mike. He gestures in front of him. “Sit.”

Levi obeys. The chair creaks under his weight, but it’s sturdy. He’s determined to remain non-committal and as distant as possible, but he tosses up between obedience and just being downright rude.

“You need to learn to trust me, Levi.”

“What reason do I have to trust you?” Levi challenges. He guesses he’ll go for something in-between. He slips down into his chair and brings one foot up to rest on the seat. Finally comfortable, he tilts his head back. “What choice do I have, even?”

Erwin huffs out a laugh. “I suppose you don’t really have a choice,” he agrees. He leans forwards, serious. “Trust the Survey Corps – and more importantly, me – or spend the rest of your life imprisoned.”

“I wonder which would be worse.”

Erwin laughs for real at that, leaning back again. “A true dilemma, indeed,” he says. “We all end up the same in the end. Why not use your incredible talents for the good of humanity?”

Levi stays silent. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit of a thrill from being a member of the Survey Corps. Even after getting his citizenship – and, providing that he doesn’t get caught or prosecuted for killing Erwin – he sometimes thinks that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay. He has way more potential than anyone else in the Corps, that’s for sure.

It’s nice to feel useful and powerful. He supposes that’s why his life underground felt generally fulfilling to him.

“You’re talented, Levi. More so than anyone else here,” Erwin tells him. “I know this, and you haven’t even faced a real titan yet. I really hope that you can learn to trust me. I know that it won’t happen overnight, but I do know that we will make a great team someday.”

Levi furrows his brows. “You want me to trust you,” he says slowly, “and yet you kick me around in front of everyone.”

“Above all else, you need to learn obedience.” Erwin says it like it’s obvious. “Don’t you think that the best way to teach someone obedience to beat it into them?” He pauses, looking up and directly into Levi’s eyes. “Especially when they’re as difficult as you.”

“You’re sadistic,” Levi hisses.

“That, I am.”

In that moment, there’s a tentative knock at the door. Erwin makes a delighted sound and stands up. “Come in,” he calls.

A small trainee with blonde hair opens the door and peeks her head in. “Um, I brought your dinner for you, Mr. Smith, sir,” she says timidly.

“Excellent.” Erwin approaches her and takes a platter out of her hands. “Thank you.”

She salutes and leaves without a word. The military has always creeped Levi out. He wonders what Erwin has done to earn her salute and her trust.

Erwin sets a shitty metal plate holding a bowl of soup, a small loaf of bread, and a couple of steamed potatoes in front of Levi. “Eat with me,” he requests. Or, it sounds like a request, but Levi knows it’s an order. He sets his own dinner down at his side of the desk and sits back down. He passes Levi a knife, fork, and spoon.

Levi regards the cutlery. The knife is blunt and essentially useless. He flicks his gaze back up to Erwin, who is already digging into his bread and soup. Could he kill him right here, right now? Just leap over the desk and jab the fork into his neck.

He’d probably be killed on the spot if he even tried and failed. Or, maybe not. Erwin seems like the kind of sick fuck who would still try to keep him around, anyway. For the sake of humanity. That’s always been his reasoning for wanting Levi to work under him.

Levi may hate his guts, but at least his intentions seem decent enough. It’s almost a shame.

Although, he’s not sure what the consequences of killing Erwin could be. There’s no one like him, that’s for sure. Everyone says that Erwin’s tactical abilities are some of the best, and he’s a natural-born leader. They all seem to think that Erwin is humanity’s only hope right now. And maybe under different circumstances, Levi might, too.

Ripping into his bread, Levi shakes the thought out of his head. Isabel and Furlan’s citizenships and wellbeing are more important to him than Erwin’s life ever will be. They’re his family. They will always come first, and they deserve a comfortable life on the surface.

Erwin and Levi eat quietly, and a little awkwardly. While Levi is avoiding eye contact, he takes a look around the office. It’s nice, he guesses, but fuck. He can see the dust in the air, and he doesn’t even want to think about the possible disarray inside Erwin’s desk drawers. If he wasn’t so starving, he would be completely put off his dinner.

When he looks back at Erwin, he’s looking right at him. It’s downright creepy, but if that’s how he wants to do thing, Levi is more than happy to oblige. He stuffs bread into his mouth and stares right back at him. What is he looking at? If he’s expecting Levi to say something, then he’s sorely mistaken. He’ll sit there and stare at him all night if he has to. He’ll never deny that he isn’t a stubborn man.

If Erwin is going to lead Levi straight to his death, then he’s not going to just let it happen without a fight.

Erwin knows this.

Erwin puts his spoon down softly in his half empty soup bowl. “Do you want to know what I think?”

Levi takes a bite out of one of his potatoes. “Not really,” he says, chewing while he talks. It’s gross and rude, but he’ll do anything to cement the fact that he won’t completely submit to Erwin – even in petty shit like this.

Erwin goes on anyway. “I think you’re smarter than everyone thinks you are. And you’re better than everyone thinks you are, too,” he tells him. “You’re better than those two friends of yours, who will only hold you back.” Levi bristles at that and opens his mouth to snap back at him, but Erwin quickly continues. “And maybe you’re even too good for me.”

He leans forwards, fire and determination in his eyes. “But I’m your only option for survival right now. You’re just too much work for anyone else to want to deal with, even if you are unbelievably skilled.”

Levi scoffs. He really is full of back-and-forths. How exhausting. “Am I supposed to be flattered or insulted?”

“I don’t care. You really have no choice, so I’m not interested in flattery. Or insults, for that matter.” Erwin folds his arms. “But if I have to beat you into submission, I will. I don’t care who sees, or what they think.” He looks up at Levi, all eyelashes and thick eyebrows. “I will break you.”

Levi can’t help but shudder at that. For some reason, he completely believes him. He won’t give up so easily, but he is certain that Erwin will do whatever it takes to make sure he submits. He stays silent at that and finishes off his final potato. A tiny voice in the back of his mind wonders if perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad to submit completely to Erwin. Almost cringing, Levi shoves that voice further back. Absolutely not.

Erwin, satisfied at Levi’s reaction (or lack thereof), goes back to eating like nothing happened. Levi slowly puts his cutlery back on the plate.

For some reason, and for the first, Erwin’s words are affecting him. I will break you. He’s already broken – it’s hard not to be, with the life he’s had – but Erwin will find a way to break him even more, eventually, and he has no doubts about that. It’s unnerving.

Levi decides that while Erwin Smith might be all charisma, piercing blue eyes, and jawlines; he’s also evil. That’s probably why he’s made it this far.

“Are we done?” Levi asks.

“Sure,” Erwin replies. He sets his cutlery down. “I expect you back here first thing in the morning, though. We have a lot of work to do.”

Supressing the urge to roll his eyes, Levi nods and stands up. “Yes, sir.” He salutes half heartedly and turns to leave swiftly. He sees a hint of Erwin’s smile.

Once the door is shut behind him, Levi heaves a sigh. He takes his time walking back to the barracks, mulling everything over.

On one hand, Erwin Smith is his ticket to a comfortable life within the walls. If he just gets his job done, he can disappear with Furlan and Isabel. Open a tea shop or something, and finally live comfortably.

But on the other hand…

Some part of him sees potential in Erwin and their proposed partnership; and an even sicker part of him is already starting to respect him, in some way. He may be a lot of things (annoying, relentless to the point where it’s almost pathetic, and incredibly fake), but he’s certainly ambitious. Rightfully so, as well.

I will break you.

A voice inside of Levi hisses; not if I break you first.

#eruri #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #erwin smith #levi ackerman #eruri fic #eruri fanfiction #fanfiction

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gaypasta · 5 years

Note

maybe 16 or 2 for reddie!

“Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”It wasn’t that Richie didn’t like being at home - he did. Maggie and Wentworth were great and all of the Losers were treated like an extension of the family whenever they would crowd into Richie’s living room with bowls of popcorn and a plethora of sugary snacks. The issue was the Richie didn’t really like being alone. He got antsy, he couldn’t concentrate and more often than not, couldn’t fall asleep.

It happened first, with Ben. Sweet Ben who couldn’t have kicked Richie out even if he wanted to when Richie knocked on his bedroom window of the bungalow and wormed his way into Ben’s bed and talked and talked until he’d talked out all of his energy and he passed out with Ben sat beside him wondering what the hell just happened.

Then it was Bill, when he was understimulated. Richie would pedal all the way to Bill’s, climb the tree, then hop onto the porch roof and then pull open Bill’s bedroom window - which was always a little open. Bill liked the fresh air. He would wake Bill up and they’d play video games or go for a walk or do anything to get Richie stimulated enough to be able to fall asleep without twitching in the bed like a live wire.

Then, Richie chanced it with Mike. An hour long bicycle ride later and he stumbled his way around the farm up to the house and shouted for Mike to let him in. Richie was mad. So mad. It was after the fight between him and Bill and he had thought it over and over and over again in his head until he wound himself up into a ball of rage and Mike brought him around all the animals with a flashlight in hand and let his anger dissipate.

Then it was Stan. After the sewers. They all had nightmares, sure. Richie could never get back to sleep. He hated sleeping alone. So, he hopped on his bike and made the trek to Stan’s. Stan didn’t sleep well after. He didn’t really sleep at all. His bedroom light was on and Stan opened the window when Richie climbed up onto the tree beside it as if Stan had been waiting for him. The nightmares bled out of his head and they both slept as Richie told Stan about how he didn’t want to be forgotten, how he didn’t want to fade from people’s memories like all those faded gravestones in the Cemetery and Stan told Richie all about what he saw in the Deadlights.

Richie would sit on the fire escape and tap Bev’s window out-of-view and she would open it some minutes later with her smokes and a pack of matches and they’ll talk about things. Beverly talks about Ben but no one knows what Richie talks about. Something important, probably.

Then, lastly, some months after the sewer, it was Eddie. Richie threw rocks up at Eddie’s window and Eddie asked him what he wanted, “Let me in, Eds. Open the front door,” And Eddie did. Richie’s face was red and puffy and his eyes were ringed much the same.

“Have you been crying?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, I saw your Mom in the shower,” Richie replied, voice taut with sniffles.

“That’s frickin’ disgusting.”

“Yeah, it really was.”

Eddie knew something had happened - he wasn’t slow. He knew Richie didn’t go to Ben’s with tears in his eyes or sneak through Bill’s window with a sad, faraway look on his face. Eddie knew that if Richie wanted to talk about it, he would. But he wouldn’t want to talk about it - Richie breezes over difficult questions with clever quips and silly voices and Eddie pretends he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

So it went on like that. Every so often, Richie would throw a pebble at Eddie’s window and Eddie - without looking - would flutter downstairs and unlock the back door to a subdued Richie who would ruffle his hair with a sad, wet smile.

There had to be a line to how much Eddie would ignore. And one day, he found it.

It wasn’t nighttime, it was barely three in the afternoon when he heard a familiar thump on his bedroom window. Eddie opened it and shouted that the door was open, come on up. Eddie barely had time to put away the deck of cards he was playing with before Richie all but slammed open his door. He shot about two feet in the air. “Hey!”

“Sorry, I’ve been working out.”

“Jerking off doesn’t count,” Eddie said, putting his cards on his bedside locker, when Richie didn’t reply he took a look at him, but his head was low and he couldn’t see his face, “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“Richie.”

Richie sat down on the bed after kicking the door closed and flopped backwards, nearly collapsing onto Eddie’s lap. Eddie barely choked back his cry of shock when he saw the state of him. A smash of blood from his nose, exploded onto his Freese’s tee. His glasses cracked and warped and his eyes an angry shade of purple - visible even through the cracked coke-bottle glass. “Take a wild fuckin’ guess.”

“Bill finally had enough of you imitating his stutter?” Eddie joked, even as he moved forward to get a closer look.

“Nah,” He said, lifting his glasses off to clean them, but Eddie took them out of his hand and set them out of reach, “Asked your Mom to sit on my face.”

Eddie gave his cheek a light slap, “Beep-beep.” The more Eddie looked at Richie’s face, the worse it looked. His lip was busted open and he had scratches and gravel all up the side of his cheek, like roadburn. Richie didn’t meet his eyes as Eddie looked over him, but he did wince when Eddie brushed some of the gravel off of his cuts. The air was steady and Richie seemed content in sitting in silence, but Eddie couldn’t leave it there. He’d found his line and this was it. “Bowers?”

Richie stiffened under him, “Bowers didn’t sit on my face but thanks for that image.” Again with the deflection.

“Richie, I’m serious, okay - stop fucking about.”

“I didn’t come here for a fucking lecture!” Richie said suddenly, whipping himself up into a sitting position only to let out a wheeze of pain and fall straight back down with a groan, “I can’t move right now but emotionally I’m storming out and slamming the door,” Richie winced as he touched his nose and groaned in pain.

“So it was Bowers?” He didn’t quip back at Richie. It was no fun when he was rolling about in pain.

“Yes.” Richie’s voice was a little nasally and gurgled. He sat up a little and blood came trickling down his nose and into his mouth. Eddie wretched and threw a box of tissues at him. Richie got through about six before his nose stopped bleeding again.

“Are you hurt?”

Richie stared at him blankly, “No.”

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

“He loaded me with sedatives before he beat my shit into the pavement.”

Eddie huffed and shuffled towards Richie and tore the tissue from his nose, “Stop being an ass. I’m trying to help, Rich and I don’t need you running your mouth and being a sarcastic asshole when I’m doing it. Sit there, don’t touch anything or …. bleed on anything. I’m gonna go and get some stuff from the first aid kit.”

“Hey, Eds?” Richie piped up in a soft voice as Eddie was about to leave the room. The softness of his voice caught him off guard and he didn’t have the heart to tell him not to call him that.

“Yeah, Rich?”

“One of your tampons should fit up my nose, it’ll stop the bleeding, right?”

“No - but I could see if my knuckle will fit up your nose - want to find out?”“Nah,” Richie pointed at his nose - “Henry already tried.”

Eddie got the things he needed from the first aid kit and brought Richie into his bathroom and locked the door. Richie was sat on the toilet seat, with Eddie leaning over a little to get a good angle to dab at Richie’s nose with a wet wipe. The blue-ish tint from the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom only made Eddie’s gut fall, more than he had expected really. Maybe it was the sad look in Richie’s eyes, too. “Why did he do this?” Eddie muttered, not really a direct question, but one Richie answered nonetheless.

“Cause I’m a faggot,” The matter-of-fact way Richie said it made Eddie’s stomach lurch.

That word - or anything related to being gay, really - always set Eddie on edge, always made him paranoid and his hair stand up on the back of his neck. Like there was a monster standing behind him, breathing rotten breath on his neck that would unhinge its jaw and swallow him whole if he even thought about other boys. The tone that Richie said that threw him off enough to ask, “Are you?”

Richie looked from the wet wipe, covered in Richie’s blood, that Eddie had moved away from his face a little, to Eddie and back to the wet wipe, “No. It was a joke.”

Eddie caught Richie looking at his own blood and felt sick, “I don’t think gays have AIDs - I saw the way you were looking at me. Anyone can get it - I read all these journals about it and it’s a disease. It doesn’t pick who it infects. Did you see Princess Diana shook hands with a patient? It’s terrible, don’t get me wrong but it’s not as contageous as the news is saying, and it’s definately not a ‘homosexual disease’ and-”

“You think I’m gay?” Richie cut him off.

“I - no. I don’t. I wouldn’t care if you were, though, for the record. I wouldn’t care if any of the losers were,” Eddie said, words rushing into each other as he spoke quickly, moving back to dab at Richie’s nose. It was hard to concentrate with the way Richie was looking at him. Like he was examining him.

“Are you?” Eddie flinched like he’d been shot when Richie asked that and he didn’t mean to physically take a step back. He opened and closed his mouth but nothing could come out. Nothing will come out - he’s fuckin’ sure of that, “I wouldn’t care either, you know.”

“Okay.” Eddie forced out.

“Okay.” Richie said.

They both agonised in the silence. Both a little wild-eyed like hares in headlights at each other. Richie’s face was clean of blood now. His shirt was still ruined but he didn’t look quite like he’d just gotten out of a bar fight now. He looked a lot better. Richie always looked kinda good, Eddie thought. The thought always embarrassed him. Richie was a bit strange looking, with a short face and his awful glasses and giant teeth that Richie insists he’ll grow into, but Eddie could never help the way his stomach lit when Richie laughed - or even when Richie pinched his cheeks and called him cute.

Richie thought the same thing. With Eddie and the way he was so quick to rile up, going from placid to in a rage at the drop of a hat. The way Eddie, all five-foot-three of him, kicked a fucking demon clown square in the snotter. When Eddie got his cast re-done because he got his ruined in greywater and he asked Richie to help re-write the LOSER on it. Eds sure was cute. The cutest fuckin powerhouse in all of Derry.

“I am.” Richie said suddenly, like a bubble bursting and suddenly his world was bigger. No longer closed in on himself, “I’m gay.”

Eddie looked like he’d seen a ghost and the wet wipe fell from his hand, “Yeah. Yeah, uh - okay. Me too.”

Richie blew a huge sigh of relief. A massive weight off of his shoulders. Although, when he looked at Eddie he didn’t feel the same radiating off of him. Eddie looked like he was about to either cry or pull a Johnny Twango and go mad, “You okay?” Eddie shook his head, not lifting his eyes off of the bathroom floor, which had suddenly gotten very interesting, what craftsmanship.

Richie pulled Eddie’s hand into his own, “Scared?” Eddie nodded, “I’m scared too.” Eddie finally willed himself to pull his eyes off of the incredible craftsmanship of the bathroom tiles and met Richie’s eyes, soft and vulnerable, “Scared together?”

“Scared together.” Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand and Eddie squeezed back. Eddie’s eyes widened suddenly and his hands shot up to Richie’s face, Richie flinched and looked up in confusion, “Your nose is broken, I’m gonna set it,” Eddie said and pinched Richie’s nose - Richie’s eyes blew open and he voiced his distress but they were cut short before Richie had the chance to push Eddie away as a loud CRACK sounded out into the air.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT - THAT FUCKING HURT.”

Eddie laughed and laughed and laughed before he wiped the tears from his eyes as Richie was still complaining and groaning in pain, “That’s payback for my arm, dipshit.”

#hehe fank you #THIS is the first time ive written reddie so be nice #REDDIE #*fic #Anonymous

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leahxx129 · 4 years

Text

Fun Fact (Steve Rogers X Reader)

Okay, this one’s for the lovely @waiting4inspiration ‘s #staysafestayhomechallenge, my prompt can be found in bold. This is my second fic ever posted on here, but I hope you enjoy it. :)

Summary: Fun fact: when you’re dying, your life does flash before your eyes. Well, not all of it of course, just the snippets that actually made it worth living. For you this means four memories that portray different stages of your relationship with Steve Rogers.

Warnings: angst, a little bit of smut, character death

Word count: 3.567

When you arrived in the middle of the battle that was raging on in Wakanda, Natasha, Okoye and Wanda were struggling to fight Proxima Midnight. You hit her with a ball of blue fire to aid your friends, and she stumbled back hard.

“How dare you?!” she screamed.

Your only response was another ball, but this time it was a bigger one. It caught her with such force and velocity that she flew against a Thresher and got shredded to pieces.

“Steve’s in the forest with Thanos!” Natasha shouted knowingly.

You ran into the woods as fast as possible and the scene playing out in front your eyes was gut-wrenching. Steve had the upper hand, but he was undeniably struggling, and it was a matter of seconds before he’d lose his advance. A blue blast coming from you sent Thanos crashing into a nearby tree.

“Y/N!” Steve uttered your name, but you couldn’t be bothered.

You appeared in front of Thanos in just a fraction of time and disabled him with the fire. You could hear voices all around you, coming from various people – Thanos bellowing, Steve demanding you to stop, Bucky telling him to flee – but you ignored all of them and closed your eyes, feeling the blue fire rise.

Fun fact: when you’re dying, your life does flash before your eyes. Well, not all of it of course, just the snippets that actually made it worth living. For you this meant four memories.

You clearly envisioned the day you met Earth’s most exclusive redheaded spy alongside with the man who awakened feelings in you that you yourself didn’t even know you were capable of experiencing.

It was a humid hot day in July, your short-sleeved yellow uniform and red apron stuck to your body in all the wrong places, making you feel uncomfortable. You took in a sharp breath as your bandaged palms came in contact with the plates you were supposed to deliver to table 3 and put them down in an instant.

“Hey Mike! I am so sorry, but I just don’t think I can wait tables today… how ‘bout I take up all the orders and you bring them out?” you called out to your co-worker.

“What’s in it for me?” he furrowed his brows.

“I’ll buy you coffee.”

“So, it’s a date, right?” a grin formed on his freckled, yet handsome face.

“No, Mike. It’s coffee.”

“So, it’s a coffee date?”

“Nope, only coffee, Mike. No date. I’ll buy you one in the morning and just give it to you when I arrive.”

There was a moment of silence and his grin turned into a small smile.

“You know you’re lucky you’re hot and I’d do anything for you, free coffee or not.” he said picking up the plates and disappeared.

The diner was packed, a loud buzz filled the place as everybody was talking simultaneously. Having spotted a raised hand, you hurried over to get the order. Sure, your palms hurt holding a notepad and a pen, too, but remotely not as much as when you picked up those full plates.

“Welcome to Pop’s Diner, what can I get you?” you recited without even as much as sparing a glance at the consumers.

“A conversation would be nice.”

Your eyes immediately shot to the speaking man and his companion and widened in shock.

“Oh my God! You… you’re…” you felt the heat rise in your cheeks as you tried putting together a coherent sentence and failed.

“It’s okay, don’t be nervous.” the read headed woman smiled kindly. “I’m Agent Natasha Romanoff and this is Captain Steve Rogers. We’re here on behalf of Nick Fury.” she continued on, making you gasp loudly.

“We’d just like to talk, that’s all. Would you mind sitting down for a second?” Rogers chipped in.

You opened your mouth to protest since you were working after all, but promptly decided against it and sat down across them. When Captain America asks you to sit down, you sit down.

“May I… May I inquire what this conversation is in relation to?” you cleared your throat.

“Your palms.” Rogers stated calmly. He flashed you a smile what you assumed was supposed to be reassuring, but all he managed to do was make you even more flustered.

“My palms…? Wha- what about them?”

“It seems like you had burned them pretty badly.”

“Uhm, yeah. I was cooking and I didn’t realize how hot the pot was until it was too late.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Agent Romanoff took out her phone and placed it in front of you on the table. A security camera footage started to play and after a few second there you were, making your way through the diner’s parking lot a day ago. When you got to your car, a man pressed you hard against its side. A short grapple ensued and two minutes in an intense light emerged from your palms, making the stranger fall to the concrete. He was weltering on the ground, touching his own face and you just stood there. Satisfied. After a while you got in your car and drove off. The video stopped.

“Wanna re-think that answer?” she asked.

You didn’t even realize that a couple of tears escaped until they made their way down your face. You wiped them away furiously with the back of your hand. You winced when she called you by your name since you didn’t remember introducing yourself, but you shouldn’t have been surprised – you were convinced that by then S.H.I.E.L.D probably even knew what your favorite color was.

“Look, we have no idea what we witnessed on that tape and that’s one thing we’d like to know-”

“Well then that makes three of us…” you cut in bitterly. “ ’Cause I don’t even know what that was… Just to be clear, I did not want to melt that man’s face off even though he attacked me. I just felt threatened, and when I get angry or feel like I’m in danger, this incredibly cold sensation swipes trough me and just... wants to surface. By the time it reaches my palms it’s so cold, it burns… It burns right through my skin and looks like blue fire.”

Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers exchanged a quick glance and the latter started off to Pop’s office.

“Where’s he going?” you asked in panic.

“He’s handing your boss your resignation.”

“What??”

“Relax, душенька. I think you’re gonna like your new job better than this. But first, you’ve got a lot to learn.” she smirked in response.

The second scene playing before your eyes was about the night you and Steve kissed for the very first time.

You won the battle of New York. At a painstakingly high price paid in body-count, but you’ve won it, nevertheless. The city slowly started to revive again and tried getting back to the old routine, but deep down everybody knew that would never happen. The harsh reality that Earth wasn’t the only populated planet and that humans were not the only superior beings in the universe settled in every heart and mind and there was no way of changing that.

Stark of course felt like the victory was something to celebrate so he threw a rather extravagant party in the Stark Tower. You tried to enjoy it, you really did, but you didn’t succeed in doing so. The music struck as too loud and all the drunk people soon became annoying instead of entertaining. Consequently, you grabbed your half-empty glass of whiskey and headed up to the roof top to get a breath of fresh air. The cold gusts of wind felt wonderful against your skin.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, Rogers. I almost threw a blue fire ball in your face.” you said without turning back. He chuckled softly and strolled to your side.

“Sorry, I just had to get away from the crowd. Plus, Stark’s hammered and he insisted on teaching me how to dance. I don’t think I’m ready for that tonight. Or ever will be.”

You didn’t notice how captivated he was when a genuine laughter ripped out of you.

“And here I was, thinking you deliberately followed me up here to finally get me alone.” you looked him in the eyes, smiling.

“You wish, doll.” his expression mirrored yours.

Your heart began racing as his face started to inch closer to yours. Your lips almost touched when a loud noise made you jump apart – courtesy of a very drunk Tony Stark trying to open the exit door with an equally drunk bimbo on his side.

“Whoops…” he said, then went on “… what was I saying? Oh, yes, sweetie, you can totally see Asgard from here. You just have to squint a little, then concentrate real hard and-”

Steve cleared his throat to make your presence known before Tony did something neither of you wanted to see.

“Rogers! Y/N! What are you two doing here? Oh, wait- did he… did he confess to you already?” he asked, looking straight in your eyes.

“Confess what?”

“Stark. Please stop talking. Now.” Steve’s voice was laced with nervousness, but Tony being Tony, did not stop talking.

“That he’s got a thing for you, Darling.” he informed you, then turned to Steve “Ugh, for God’s sake, Rogers, just kiss her already! Because if you won’t, I will!”

“Hey!” the bimbo screamed, clearly offended and went back to the building. A second later when Tony realized what happened he rushed after her shouting he didn’t mean it; he was just trying to motivate a friend. Or maybe he meant it a little, but just a little. Then all the noise died out.

“Soooo… you have a thing for me?” you spoke up after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

“Yes. I do. Although I planned on presenting it to you a bit differently.” he admitted.

“I see. Since it’s confession time, can I tell you something, too?”

“Sure thing, doll.”

You closed the distance between the two of you and stood on your tiptoes.

“I’ve got a thing for you as well, Steve…” you whispered in his ear.

He cupped your face and crashed his lips against yours in response. He did not like booze at all, but if anyone asked what his favorite was, he said whisky, because that’s what he tasted on your tongue that night.

Another clip of your life you were seeing was about the first time Steve made love to you.

You entered your room after a mission gone a bit sideways, exhausted to an extent that’s impossible to describe and with bruises and cuts covering the majority of your body. Steve stormed in just seconds after and slammed the door shut so hard it almost broke off its hinges. His beautiful face was hardened by anger and those blue eyes that often reminded you of the peaceful sea promised storm.

“What the hell was that?!” he demanded in a raised tone.

You sat down in front of your boudoir table and started peeling of your shredded suite very carefully.

“Answer me!” he shouted when he realized you had no intention of getting into an argument with him.

“Well, Cap, we went on a mission that in the end required some prompt, unplanned decisions on our side and I made them. Mission turned out successful. End of story. Is oral summary sufficient or would you like me to hand it in in written format?”

“Don’t “Cap” me, doll. And the attitude won’t bring you any closer to the end of this conversation…” he warned a little bit calmer, but still with a shaking voice.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I just don’t see what your problem is.”

You finished getting out of the top part and stood up to get done with the bottom, visibly struggling. With a couple of quick steps Steve appeared in front of you and tore it apart. You wore nothing but your underwear.

He then grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes.

“My problem is every single bruise on your body that’s not supposed to be there. Every single cut. Every single wound. Just because you learned how to use the blue fire without getting burnt it doesn’t mean you should use it excessively. I saw the effect it had on you today, don’t think I didn’t. For a split second it appeared as if it was consuming you from the inside…”

“Steve, if I hadn’t overdriven myself a little today, some of our greatest agents would’ve died. And I could not take that risk.” you said with gritted teeth. Tears started to sting your eyes, but you held them back.

“Well, I could! You know what risk I cannot take?! Losing you, doll.”

“I’m sorry…” you said in a small voice without a beat. Apologizing was not your genre, but the realization of how much Steve cared for you just dawned upon you. A mix of emotions took over you – you felt immensely loved, but at the same time, you were scared. “I gotta go take a shower. Will be back in no time.”

You slipped out of his grasp and let the tears flow as you closed the bathroom door behind you. Having stripped your underwear, you stepped into the shower and started cleansing yourself. You hoped the hot water would wash away the shame and guilt you felt, not just the dried blood and dirt. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you jumped a little when Steve opened the shower cabin door.

“Oh my God, you scared me!” but he didn’t say a word.

He pushed you against the cold shower wall and kissed you violently, while his hands explored every curve of your body. It took all your willpower to break the kiss.

“Steve, do you really want our first time to be shower sex?” you asked panting.

“It doesn’t matter where we are, doll. I love you and I want you.” he growled, kissing down your neck.

Every fiber in your body ached in protest, but you ignored them. You ran your nails down his back as he put his hands under your thighs and gently lifted you up. A moan escaped you mouth when he entered you and slowly started moving. Steve swore it was the most beautiful sound in the whole goddamn universe. It was not long before the tension started building up in your body and having noticed this, he picked up the pace. You’d never moaned anyone’s name during orgasm before, but Steve was the only exception. He reached his bliss second later.

“On second thought, shower sex was just great for a first time.” you said, and he chuckled. “Where did you, uh, where did you hear about it?”

“Uhm, do you remember the mission like eight months ago when Stark and I got stuck on a desert island for six days?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, turns out, Stark opens up quite easily about his sensual experiences…”

“Noo. No way!” you laughed as you stepped out of the shower and started drying your hair with a towel.

“Yes way.” Steve followed you and took over the towel to dry your hair. “I also heard about other stuff, but those require a bed.” he smirked suggestively.

“In that case it’s a good thing I happen to own one.” you kissed his lips and wished that day would never end.

The last memory could not have been any clearer and it was breaking your heart all over again.

It was no question who’s side you were on when the civil war between Tony and Steve broke out… You got used to the life being on the run with Steve, Natasha and Sam in no time, although you still missed the others as well. They were the closest thing to a family you’ve ever had, and the rupture pained you badly at times. When Steve decided to collect the rest to unite in the fight against the greatest threat that ever endangered the universe, you were glad. You never knew how this beginning would mean the end of your relationship.

The first avengers Steve decided to recruit were Wanda and Vision in Europe, and frankly, you got there just in time. There’s a chance that a couple of minutes later there would’ve been no one to recruit… Your heart skipped a beat when you realized who you were up against, but you couldn’t allow yourself to ponder – lives were on the line. You helped Natasha stab Glaive and when Proxima Midnight grabbed your shoulder and turned you in her direction to deliver a punch, her fist froze mid-air.

“Y/N?” she asked uncertainly, but you didn’t answer. Sam flew in and kicked her to Glaive’s side. “Your father will hear about this, I promise.” she threatened before vanishing in blue light.

Everybody was panting, the fight exhausted all of you. Other than that, no sound could be heard.

“What was she talking about, doll?” Steve spoke up finally, asking the question everyone was dying to hear the answer to.

You all boarded the Quinjet, but you and Steve went to a separate cabin to discuss matters first.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t hit you or try to kill you on spot, though you were absolutely certain you would’ve deserved it. He just sat there. Quietly. He didn’t utter a word while you were telling him that you, in fact, were not human. You were a member of a species called ‘Inhuman’, which was the result of mixing Kree genes with human ones, and this is the reason why you possess the blue fire. He didn’t say a thing while you were telling him that as a child, Thanos snatched you and brought you up as his own daughter alongside two other girls, Nebula and Gamora, and turned the three of you into the most feared assassins in the entire galaxy. His mouth stayed shut while you were telling him that coming to Earth was a mission ordered by Thanos to gain intel on what was going on here and you were deemed fit for it as you looked like humans.

“But I stopped delivering information years ago, Steve! Do you know why? Because I fell in love with you! And because I realized the error of my father’s ways! He lied to me throughout my entire life and manipulated me into believing his false ideology! Steve? Please, say something, Steve…”

“Leave.”

You were not sure if the word echoed in the room or was it just your own mind.

“What?”

“I said, leave.” he stood up. There was no sign of fury on his face. Only disappointment. You didn’t move, so he continued.

“You were the very first woman I loved after Peggie, which I thought would be impossible for a long-long time… I loved you, Y/N. You saved me in more than one way, and after the war I wanted to settle down with you. Start a family. But you know this damn well, for fuck’s sake… And now it turns out I never even knew you…”

“But Steve, you knew me, in fact, you know me!” you interrupted with a cracking voice.

“No, doll, I didn’t. And I don’t.”

You ran up to him and cupped his face, but he refused to look at you. Your palms were wet from the tears he shed. He peeled your hands off him slowly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I could never do that. But I want you to leave. I don’t care who’s side you’ll fight on in this war or if you decide to sit it out, just whatever you do, stay away from me. God, I can’t even look at you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop the sobs surfacing from your chest.

The flashback scenes stopped, and the blue fire was burning more than ever inside of you. Steve had been right all those years ago… if you overdrove yourself, it would consume you from the inside and everything else in your immediate proximity, too. But if this was the only way of defeating your father and saving the universe, so be it. Suddenly, numbness took the place of pain and you subjected to it.

A high number of people showed up to your funeral organized at Tony’s lake house. Everybody placed a white rose on top of your empty casket and expressed their condolences to Steve, but he wasn’t paying attention at all. He tried to, really hard, but he just couldn’t. Tony was the last person to go there and place his rose.

“You know Rogers, I’ve never been one to sugarcoat things and I’m not gonna lie this time, either.” he said, his words making Steve look him in the eyes. “From what I hear… If you had kept your mouth shut, she’d still be here… At least there’s a high chance for that. But there’s also a high chance that half of the fucking universe wouldn’t. Respect her choice... That’s what I’m trying to do.”

Respect your choice... These three words became Steve’s mantra – the first thing that came to his mind in the morning, and the last at night. They were the glue that kept the pieces of his heart together just enough to function as a human being.

#ssshchallenge #staysafestayhomechallenge #mcu fic #steve x reader #steve rogers

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somanycannons · 5 years

Text

Richie Tozier x Reader Part 2

Part 2 -

Time changed everything, people grow apart and fall apart, or we just forget all together. Y/N and Richie fell apart none of the losers that were remaining understood at all why, maybe it was his mouth or maybe it was the reoccurring nightmares that became all too real for Y/N and the only was she felt as if she could protect him is just end it all. The breakup was a nasty one, hours beyond hours of fighting each other the tears and the bleeding hearts, Richie trying so hard to make her see that this wasn’t right that she was making a terrible mistake. Y/N did the one thing that she knew would get him to stop , something she would never forgive herself for as long as she lived.

“We are meant f—“ Richie yelled at her throat burning and scratching as if he had a bad cold

“ I’ve never loved you , and never have Richard “ she screamed over him her words nearly deafening her as she looked at him. If he only knew the truth of her actions maybe he’d understand.

Richie looked at her as if he’d just been shot , balling his fists up tightly in his shirt trying to thing of something anything that he could say to her to make her stay but he knew that they were past that point that no matter what she was leaving.

“ F-Fine the fucking leave y-you stupid whore” he screamed at her his chest heaving as he staggered back resting his back against the wall, a sob breaking out from his lips

Y/N turned on her heel quickly leaving furiously wiping the tears away as she walked to her car, her hands shaking as she pulled the door open slipping into her seat. As soon as the car started Y/N began punching the steering wheel until her knuckles were red and angry, she took one more look at the apartment Richie stayed at in Derry, fighting with herself weather she should go back in or not until the nasty twisted words in her head replayed what she’d done driving her to throw her car in drive and leave the one person she’d ever call home and leave a past behind she’d never remember until twenty-seven years later.

27 years had passed, Y/N was thirty with a dream job that she had as a kid at least that is what she remembered from the fuzzy memories , she was working for child/adult protective services and she’d seen some pretty fucked up cases in the last eight years she’d been working with kids and adults. She lived just in a small house near Charleston, South Carolina she could smell the ocean just outside when she opened her door in the morning and it made a blurry memory come up but it was a nice feeling but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She sighed leaning against her porch nursing a cup of coffee letting the breeze blow by her show now dyed and highlight with her natural colors to a warm plum color it suited her and her attitude in a way. Her phone began to ring from inside she sighed and walked in picking up the phone with a groan

“Jackson, I told you I’m on vacation for the next four weeks , I deserved this y’all possibly couldn’t be that lost without me could you?” She chuckled at the end of her statement

“Y/N, it’s not Jackson, It’s Mike Hanlon from Derry, you need to come home ITS back. “ Mike whispered into the phone with a sigh

Y/N mind went blank as she dropped her cup off coffee her hands began to shake so if her memories hitting her like a tidal wave, the losers , why she had the scar on her hand, and Richie.. oh god Richie she felt a sob catch the back of her throat trying to hold it in

“y/n y:n you still there! Everything alright” Mike yelled into the phone

“Y-Yep here.. where are we meeting.. “ she tried not to let the sob out biting her lip closing her eyes her breathing wavering

“ Chinese restrauunt I’ll send you the address.. how soon can you be here “

“ early hours of the morning if I leave now Mike” she bit into her cheek questioning if it was a smart choice to head back there after all these years and seeing the losers ,especially Richie.

As soon as Mike end the call ,y/n sat on the floor pulling her knees to her chest a sob breaking out she cried for a good thirty minutes before pulling herself up off the floor sniffling as she pulled a suit case out of the hallway closet it had all sorts of band badges sewn into from her step dad and her collecting them over the years she looked it over with a sad smile walking down to her room setting the bag on the bed packing silently as tears fell , she fought they actually killed that motherfucker, she was pretty sure they did who/what the fuck could survive a pike through the fucking head. She sighed thinking of the drive and the memories she was slowly regaining all she could hope was that Richie didn’t hate her guts all that much.

#richie tozier imagine #it richie #richie tozier #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #richie tozier x reader

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lywinis · 4 years

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do you have any richie headcanons that you would like to share?

BOY DO I EVER. I love one (1) gay disaster bastard.

I’m gonna cut this because it got long LMAO, hope you like info dumps!

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Richie is most likely ADHD. He carries a lot of the markers, but his parents didn't believe in that shit when he was a kid, so now he finds his own ways to cope. He doodles in the margins of his notebooks. He forces himself to write things down manually, instead of using a laptop, because he knows he'll just surf the internet and not get anything done.

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He grew up almost overnight, shooting up his junior and senior year of high school. He was a beanpole until college, where he packed on some muscle.

He didn't do much physically, preferring to play video games and sleep through his classes, but he's pretty good at disc golf.

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He went stag to prom. Most girls had figured out he wasn't interested and he didn't dare ask a guy because even with Henry in Juniper Hill, there were still bullies in Derry. It's okay, though. Stan and Eddie both went stag, too.

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Despite his slacker attitude, Richie is intelligent. His original material is razor sharp, and while he does often go for the quick and easy low blow, a lot of his jokes are simultaneously witty as well as filthy. He'll find the thing that makes you laugh the hardest, then stomp on it, wringing it dry. As he got older, he learned how to fine tune it, rather than repeating it like a little mynah bird until it was old and sick.

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He's had a handful of relationships between his last summer in Derry as a teenager and his return as an adult. Mostly they ended in the other party ghosting Richie, or otherwise breaking it off.

He dated a couple of girls until he felt safe enough to try dating guys, but even then it wasn't healthy. He was expected to be 'on' all the time, to keep up the Trashmouth persona rather than just being allowed to be himself. In return he found 'good enough' -- people who used him for his growing fame, giving him crumbs of attention and affection.

As the years wore on he stopped dating and started growing bitter. Eventually the writers on his show started him on the whole 'your mom' schtick again, and it was easy to hide behind that. Richie the chad, crushing puss and cracking jokes. TMZ keeps trying to get the scoop on his personal life, so he feeds them bullshit instead of admitting he goes home to an empty apartment or his silent tour bus at the end of the day.

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Because he grew so fast, he was clumsy, seeming not to know what to do with his hands and feet. Coupled with possible ADHD, you see a man who is contained energy that is back and forth across the stage, tends to be very high impact on the stage.

It also led him to self image issues, coupled with the aforementioned ghosting. He doesn't like taking his shirt off in public, or really under the gaze of a partner. He doesn't often allow himself that vulnerability, instead preferring to hide behind vulgarity and to draw attention to that rather than himself. Avoiding the mortifying ordeal of being known.

He tends to be skittish about intimacy, figuring that anyone who wants to be with him is there for a reason, rather than just because it's him.

("I sound like a fucking tool," he mutters. "Sorry, that's a hangup that needs work. Never worked that one into the bit. 'Hey, folks, I discovered my secret: you can lead me around by the dick if you kiss me on the mouth and stay the night.' Yuk-yuk-yuk.")

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He has a younger sister -- Leslie Ann Tozier, born late to his parents in 1993. She ended up going to college and becoming an advice columnist for the Portland Press Herald. She keeps out of his life, and they have a strained relationship. (She thinks he was the golden child when really it was Derry fucking with their parents and making them placid about Richie's mischief.)

She doesn't show for Christmas usually, citing that she's busy and can't get away now that Wentworth and Maggie live in Arizona. Richie tends to make sure he's got something booked at least two weeks before Christmas to give her a chance to see them without him being there.

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He likes gummi peach rings. They're in his rider for shows, it's really the only demand he makes.

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He was rebuffed every time he tried to write his own material. His manager has seen how wildly unpredictable Richie's energy is and refuses on the basis that he thinks Richie won't be consistent. The company that gave him his break contracted him for a couple of years, but now he can reasonably expect to break away from them if he so chooses.

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His middle name is Wentworth. His father insisted. Bill is the only one who knows. He was sworn to secrecy years ago.

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Richie's a panic puker. He tends to heave up his guts in fear-wracking, stressful situations. See: when Mike calls him about Derry, and when Henry Bowers jumps Mike in the library. This also translates to his first gig, that sort of thing. Usually it's fine and it wasn't a huge deal while he was under amnesia but it gets really bad after he goes back to Derry. Eventually it subsides with therapy and after Pennywise is dead.

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Richie and John Mulaney have this sort of weird rivalry. Richie thinks he's fucking hysterical and is maybe not so secretly jealous that he's worked SNL where Richie was always passed over, Mulaney goes out of his way to fuck with him. Richie swears up and down he's gonna introduce Missus Patricia Blum Uris to Mulaney's wife Annamarie because they'll rule the fucking world.

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Richie's done cocaine, hates how it makes him feel. Whereas most experience this sort of high energy, he's more sedate. (Thanks, ADHD! Think: Richie just snorted a bump of Ritalin.) It makes him a grumpy fuck and the withdrawal is not pleasant. He's sworn off the stuff, though it used to be a regular thing at the parties he frequented.

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He has a personal paparazzo named Mitch who used to be pretty cool and then Richie sobered up and realized where all those candids were coming from. Mitch can usually be recognized by his sweaty, stained Chicago Cubs hat (in LA, the home of the Dodgers). He drives a shitty souped up Miata, the engine can be heard from a block away but he always seems to get the drop on Richie regardless. Mitch considers Richie his meal ticket and will actively drive off other paparazzi if he can. It's not altruistic.

Mitch eventually pursues Richie too far, ends up in a fist fight with a risk analyst from New York who just comes outta NOWHERE, screaming a stream of abuse the whole way and leaves him with a black eye and a broken camera after he shoves it in Richie's face after a public panic attack. The bastard even had the balls to sue him after taking the memory card from his camera and chucking it down a drain. (It was weird, though, the guy wouldn't get too close to the drain, like he was afraid he'd get dragged in.)

Afterward, Mitch can never seem to get a good close shot. He spots Richie all over town, but he's always being blocked by someone. Once, he got a photo of author Bill Denbrough by mistake - and he couldn't even sell it because it was blurry. There always seems to be a crowd around Richie Tozier now. A very vocal, active crowd. He has to switch to long range lenses and it gets less personal for him. He ends up making less money because no one's interested in the new Richie Tozier because he's not really a disaster anymore, not since his bomb on stage and breakdown last year.

#IT #Richie Tozier #lywinis writes #lywinis memes #waverly-earp

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