#the reasoning behind this is probably cause mike doesn’t know when he’ll be back on the server but in universe. God | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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smallblip · 3 years

Note

A quick prompt @luanabonn and I came up with seeing this TOTALLY CANON scene of Levi bathing Hange in this hilarious animatic video (the best part is obviously from 0:17-0:25)

Imagine the first time the vets walked in on Levi bathing Hange and Erwin would probably just facepalm or start rubbing his temples like "Geeez guys, really?". Mike would be like "Called it!" and high five Nana. Poor Moblit would probably just freez cause he's traumatized for life 😂

Years later when the 104th kids walk into the same scenario, Levihan would legit try to normalize it 😂 I see Levi saying something like "What are you looking at, brats? This is perfectly normal. I've been doing this for years now, okay?" and Hange would say "yeah... It's surely not like we're dating or something like that...ha ha ha... not at all"

And the kids be like "Yeah we know you're not dating... Because you're already married... Mom & Dad" ❤️

Yasssss my bbs💖 @hanjo-love @luanabonn thank you both💖 I love this!

Also thank you for the video it was GREAT.

Two sides, same goddamn coin

“Erwin... Why are you standing out on the corridor?” Mike asks on the way back to his room. It’s late. There’s no reason for Erwin to be standing back against his door, looking absolutely resigned.

Nanaba peeks from behind Mike, “hey boys, what’s the commotion about?”

Moblit is with Nanaba, both deciding to search the male dorms for Hanji who has seemingly disappeared into thin air.

“Hanji and Levi are in my bath...” Erwin exhales a sigh, eyes shut, fingers rubbing his temples.

“What do you mean?” Mike says carefully. At this point, Moblit just looks like he’s seen a ghost. Abort abort! It’s okay Nanaba I’ll look for Hanji buntaicho another time! It’s not that urgent! Nothing is that urgent! But Moblit knows it’s too late. He knows where this is all going. He’s part of their little game now.

“I mean...” Erwin gives them ‘that look’, the one they always give one another when Levi and Hanji are being insufferable, “they are in my bath... Bathing... Together...”

Mike and Nanaba freeze for a second.

It’s only a split second and soon they’re pushing past Erwin and dashing in his room.

“Wait-“ Erwin and Moblit in a hushed whisper. But soon the three of them are standing outside his bathroom door.

Laughter streams through from the other side of the door.

“Oh my god...” Nanaba gasps, “what’s going on?”

“Let’s weigh our options,” Mike suggests.

“On one hand, we get to see for ourselves, get to the bottom of this matter... You know... Investigate...” Erwin has his thinking face on.

“Investigate huh... That’s exactly what the tax payers pay us to do in the Survey Corps...” Mike says. Immediately it’s clear what his preference is.

“On the other hand...” Erwin continues, “Levi might murder us all...”

“A worthy death for a soldier...” Mike shrugs.

“Oh no... I really don’t think we should...” Moblit stutters. Nanaba notes that he is very sweaty.

Looks are exchanged and it has been decided. With a heavy hand, Erwin slams open the bathroom door.

There’s a scream that’s only stopped when Levi slaps his hand over Hanji’s mouth.

“What?” Levi snaps, as if they had been trespassing.

“You’re in my bath...” Erwin says, equally matter of fact.

“Your bath is the nicest...” Hanji offers.

“You’re in my bath... Together...” Erwin raises a brow.

“As Captain of the Survey Corps, you said it was my duty to supervise the cleanliness and hygiene of the soldiers,” Levi murmurs, sinking lower into the bubbles, hands coming to cover Hanji up. Absolute gentleman.

“This is a very unique means of supervision, Captain...” Erwin smirks.

“Whatever gets the job done, Commander...” Levi spits the last word.

Behind him, Mike and Nanaba high five. Finally. Some catharsis. They called it. They all called it. Levi and Hanji were a thing. This is absolute proof. No one can tell them otherwise now. Ha! Take that! Moblit has averted his eyes. Nothing in this world can compel him to look.

“Excuse me ladies...” Hanji clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably against Levi, “I am very naked, and to be honest with you, the water is starting to get cold... Soon I will be freezing my tits off... So could we please continue this at a more convenient time?”

“Whatever you say m’lady...” Erwin tips his imaginary hat.

“Fuck you...” Hanji narrows her eyes at him and mutters under her breath. Great. They can never use Erwin’s bath again. What alternatives are there? The cadet showers maybe? The piping is really new there, that means there’s a whole lot of hot water. Probably not. They don’t need a part two of this happening.

“Hanji san! We need to seek approval for-“

Everyone’s jaw is agape. Armin’s hands have flown to cover his face, “my virgin eyes...” he’s murmuring repeatedly.

“Why wouldn’t you close the bathroom door!” Sasha shouts accusatorily. Now the bunch of them are standing awkwardly in Hanji’s room, averting their gaze from the adjacent bath. Should they leave now? They really should. But there are forms that need filling.

“Why wouldn’t you guys knock!” Hanji retaliates.

“You always ask us not to!” Connie shoots back.

Oh, Hanji winces, she did in fact tell them to just enter because half the time she’s too engrossed in whatever it is she’s doing to hear.

“What the fuck do you want brats?” Levi has sunk all the way down the bath, the water now grazing his chin.

“We would like to seek permission from Hanji san to go to the town on Monday for supplies...” Armin pipes up, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Permission granted! Now go!” Levi shouts.

Sasha sees the opportunity and ceases it, “we would also like to request for the weekend off for recreational purposes! Sir!”

“Don’t push it Braus!” Levi snaps.

Darn it.

“Anything else? Or would you guys like to run through your entire schedules for the next two months with me while you’re at it? It’s not like I’m in the bath naked or anything ha-ha!” Hanji guffaws. It’s so painfully awkward her body literally cannot conjur anything rational to do. They have both slid so far down the tub that she’s practically lying atop Levi, his crotch against her butt making her blush up a storm.

“Why are you in the bath with Captain Levi?” Mikasa asks. Everyone stares at her.

“Mikasa!” Armin exclaims. They absolutely do not need more time in this tiny room with their two naked superiors.

“Hanji is filthy. I’m cleaning her. What’s abnormal about this situation?” Levi deadpans.

“I can’t reach my back! It’s a practical arrangement!” Hanji chuckles, “it’s not like we’re dating or anything!”

“My parents are married and they don’t even do this...” Sasha murmurs.

Jean has had enough. His face is so red he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t stop this nonsense. This is a conversation that never needed to happen. “Permission to be dismissed from this conversation!”

“Fuck! Finally! Permission granted Jean!” Hanji says, throwing her hands up in despair.

Everyone shuffles out the door, and Armin bumps against the frame multiple times because his eyes are still shut. Levi and Hanji let out a collective sigh. Good lord Armin!

“Uh... Okay... Bye mom and dad...” Eren stutters, how does one leave this situation on a good note because this isn’t it, “I mean... Captain... Squad leader...” he gathers his jaw from where it has hit the ground and leaves with the others.

Hanji laughs awkwardly and turns to Levi, “remember when Erwin and the others saw-“

Levi’s face is red, and the blush has now spread to his neck. Thankfully the kids are gone. Another moment longer and most of the bubbles would have popped. He tsks and cuts Hanji off, “I would very much not like to remember that... Or this...”

#I love you two and this prompt #hope this is alrighty #t’was fun #levihan #levihan Drabble #vets hc #naughty children #inbox #hanjo-love #offerings #mine #Drabble #Levi x hange #luanabonn

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kaypeace21 · 3 years

Text

Stranger things is about mental health & trauma- deal with it!

I’ve seen a lot of people claim anyone who mentioned this topic immediately be gaslit and told they’re “just crazy” and “rudely projecting their own issues on to the characters.’ Like- no you don’t have to believe my Will DID/Lonnie theory ( I could be wrong). But to claim one of the show’s central themes isn’t about mental health/trauma (screams either complete lack of lit comprehension or denial cause you have your own negative biases towards such people). So let’s just go into what’s literal text-not subtext/symbolism. Just the super blatant stuff. RIGHT IN THE SHOW!

-We have El when she first appears on screen asked by Benny if her parents starved and hurt her and if that’s why she ran away. Benny then calls CPS to say El “may have been ab*sed or something.” After this Lucas says there is “seriously something wrong with her-wrong in the head. She’s probably from the NUT-HOUSE in curly county.penthurst” We also see El cannonically has PTSD-all of s1 she’ll see something benign (a cat, a coke commercial, a closet) and is triggered to see a traumatic flashback. That’s literally ptsd. There’s also hints throughout the seasons she’s developmentally behind in both language, telling time etc (neglect like El’s irl can cause an intellectual disability-analysis on El/that subject here).The real pethurst in pensylvannia (not the one in stranger things/ Curly county) closed in 1986- it was a facility for people and mostly kids with intellectual disabilities (it wasn’t technically a psych facility like the one in st)-but it was infamous for it’s abuse of these intellectually disabled patients kept there. We also have Brenner be a ab*sive psychiatrist.

- Hopper after suffering from the loss of his daughter. Is popping pills like candy, drinking and smoking constantly. He later says he used to hallucinate and forgot what was real -seeing and hearing sarah and says if he didn’t confront the pain he’d “fall down a black hole he couldn’t get out of.” NO... subtext here about what the void represents nope.

- Both mothers (Terry & Joyce) are dismissed as being mentally ill and simply grieving the loss of their kids . But both end up being right about the supernatural.

- “Terry pretends Jane is real. i mean it’s all make believe. you know the doctors all say it’s a coping mechanism.”

- While with Joyce the whole town pre s1 already questioned her mental health. Jonathan says “She used to have anxiety problems (pre s1).” And Jonathan, Hopper, and Lonnie all assume she’s hallucinating: talking to Will via lights, seeing a man without a face, saying Will’s body is fake -due to grief. Plus Lonnie mentions the fact Joyce’s aunt Darlene also used to hallucinate as a possible reason (terry’s aunt also had mental health issues mentioned in s2 by Becky). Lonnie even says everything Joyce is seeing is “all in her head.” Hopper and Jon both say she needs to sleep and accept reality and Lonnie says she needs to see a “shrink”. Hopper “i’m not saying that you’re crazy”. Joyce : “no, you are.” Joyce also says to Lonnie “Stop looking at me like that... like everyone else like i’m out of my damn mind.” Hopper also says about Joyce she’s “on the edge”. Callahan says in response , “she’s been on the edge for a while now” (referring to her mental health- even before Will’s dissappearance)”. While Lonnie says Jonathan is “feeding into her hallucinations ... you’re going to push her right over the edge.” In s2 Hopper says “ I think everyone is on edge- you, me, Will most of all. (when talking about Will’s ptsd/trauma)”

- in s1 They claim Will just “fell” over the edge of the quarry’s cliff. Later the only other queer coded character (Mike) jumps off the quarry cliff (where Will’s body was found) cause the homophobic troy forced him too jump. Troy even says earlier dead-Will is “flying with all the other fairies all happy and gay” (to Mike). And Troy says to Hopper El made Mike “fly” after jumping off the cliff. Friendship saved him from jumping off the edge metaphorically ( and he’ll prob eventually be happy and gay too).

s2/3

-Will is seeing a therapist . And we are told he has ptsd and will experience the anniversary effect, personality changes,nightmares, having episodes, etc. And things “will get worse before they get better”. Mike also asks if what Will is seeing is “real or like the doctors say all in your head?” And Will continues to see hallucinations of the mf/upsidedown that only he can see initially.

-Hopper also agrees with owens mentioning how he knew guys with ptsd . joyce : “it’s not like he’s describing a nightmare. He talks about them like they’re real.” Hopper: “Yeah, because they’re not nightmares they’re flashbacks.I think he’s right about trauma.I think everyone is on edge (bringing that s1 ref back), Me you, Will, most of all.Nothing’s gonna go back to the way that it was. But it’ll get better.In time.”

-Nancy suffers from survivor’s guilt and drunkingly says she killed Barb. Jonathan says like Nancy he has “a weight that you that carry all the time . i feel it too.” (cough depression). He also says he tries to be there for Will but says about Will “he’s not the same. maybe things can’t go back to the way they were. (mirroring Hopper’s words earlier that season)”

-Jonathan said in s1 Joyce had “anxiety issues” than Nancy says in s3 “you really are your mother’s son... you worry too much.” Then we see him look worried after the comment.

- in s2, Axel & a scientist both call El and Will “schizos” because of their powers. In s3 mrs driscoll isn’t believed about the supernatural cause she’s schizophrenic-but like Joyce/Terry was right.

- Kali saves a woman named Dottie (a british slang term for crazy) from a mental hospital and then compares herself and El to dottie. saying her non-powered gang is “Like us ...outsiders... society discarded them.” In graphitti we even see the title “obedlam” a british poem about discarding the mentally ill and leaving them homeless. El before this sees a mentally ill man screaming “we’re all dead!” Kali’s friend says to El, after this encounter they were “dead all of us” until kali “saved them here” (points to head) “and here” (points to heart). Pointing to the theme of love and friendship helping those with such issues. Similar to the cliff analogy.

-The cycle of ab*se. Max in s2 says she’s afraid of becoming like Billy (her ab*ser). We see Billy mimic his ab*ser neil and inflict pain on max. In s3 we see the roots of his behavior are linked to mimicking Neil- Neil in a flashback says about baseball “what are you scared?” “ did i raise a p*ssy for a son”. So young Billy later in a fight says to a boy “ what are you scared to fight me? fight me p*ssy. (as he beats the boy)” Deflecting his anger of his father on to someone else. In s3, We see as a kid he used to say to Neil “don’t hurt her” (his mom)-specifically after Neil backhand slaps her -but we later see possessed Billy backhand slap Max (just like neil). The resentment to his mother leaving - festered into how he views women and max negatively . And his attraction to mrs wheeler prob is linked to him subconsciously missing his mother. Max in s2 even says he can’t take it out on her mother so he does so to her instead (we even have Billy hallucinate hurting mrs wheeler).We see in s2 the cycle of abuse is there- Billy mimics Neil, and then Max mimics Billy. Billy harrasses Max and yells “SAY IT!” (mimicking Neil). Max like Billy later yells “SAY IT” and uses a bat /violence to stand up for herself against Billy- which earlier she said she was trying to combat … explaining she can be angry like Billy sometimes but she never wants to be like him (her nickname symbolizing this: aka ‘mad max’). Billy’s last dying words were an apology to Max- for becoming her neil. And we hopefully will see Max break this cycle.

- Will says his now memories (that he describes like dreams) are “growing “, “spreading “,and “killing”. While Kali says they need to face their father and (as Brenner) says El has to confront her “wound” or else it’ll “grow”, “spread” and “eventually it’ll kill her.” Kali says she used to be like El . She used to bottle her pain away and it “spread.” But she then says “I confronted my pain and I finally began to heal (from those wounds).” We also see with jonathan and nancy when describing “shared trauma” zoom in onto the scars on their hands. The wound heeled into a scar so to speak.

S2 & 3 ENDINGS

both have Hopper do a speech that delves into dealing with trauma/depression but still finding good along the way.

-s2 Hopper outside the snowball: “how are you holding up? Yeah, that feeling never goes away. It is true what they say, you know. Everyday it does get easier.”

-s3 Hopper monolouge : “ Feelings jesus. For so long, i’d forgotten what those even were. I’ve been stuck in one place,in a cave you might say , a deep dark cave (cough s2 supernatural cave). For the first time in a long time, i started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. Life... yeah sometimes it’s painful .sometimes it’s sad, and sometimes it’s suprising... happy.. And when life hurts you, because it will .remember the hurt . The hurt is good. It means you’re out of that cave.”

BUT YES- St has nothing to do with mental health/trauma, we’re just “crazy” and “projecting”. It’s not like some of ya’ll act pompous when you just have a bias and get pissy at the idea of relating to characters you “other” as “crazy” or “damaged” irl or anything (so attack people for pointing it out). Or (benefit of the doubt) you are just like.... oblivious... or just a kid who doesn’t know better XD

#stranger things #el hopper #will byers #jim hopper #joyce byers #max mayfield #billy hargrove #kali prasad #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Text

dearly depressed and brokenhearted (i’d like to let you know that boys cry too)

it’s been a hot sec since i’ve properly posted a fic on tumblr but whatever i have the time and this one isn’t too long

anyway shoutout to @httpsgfg for the idea for the so much therapy playlist, which i somehow got through the entire three and a half hours of whilst writing/posting this. also shoutout to @rotten-candie for helping me pick a title & summary

to be perfectly clear: this is a gen fic. it is centered on a friendship. i’m not in charge of you and if you’re so inclined to read it as pre-slash then i can’t stop you, but if it’s all the same to you, it’s a friendship fic to me

tw i guess for angst, possibly hints at depression, crying, etc there are better tags on ao3 if you need them

title from how do you feel? by the maine

read here on ao3

It’s Saturday, or maybe Monday. Luke has stopped keeping track.

Rain is coming down, slowly but surely. Going outside is sure to end in getting soaked to the bone, probably shivering. Especially if Luke doesn’t bring a jacket.

He goes anyway.

The chill in the air wraps around him like clingfilm, settling under his skin. For a moment outside it would be bearable, but Luke plans to be outside a bit longer than that. He’s going to be cold. He is probably going to lose feeling in his fingers. It would be best to go back inside. Grab some gloves. Maybe a warm coat. Drizzling rain follows the wind and sprays in his face. Luke takes the front steps, one, two, onto the damp grass, which gives under his footsteps. Another. Another. Water soaks through the front of his shoes; his socks are going to get wet and soon he’ll lose feeling in his toes as well.

He’s not trying to go numb or anything. Maybe he’s a bit of a masochist, but who isn’t? It’s not like the cold is going to give him permanent damage. He’ll go back inside when he can’t handle it anymore, but he has time before he reaches his threshold. Outside is the only place Luke can possibly fathom being right now. Everywhere else is wrong. Too bright or too loud or somehow otherwise just wrong.

Here, in the elements, his hoodie barely protects his face from the biting wind. Sleeves over his hands only do so much, even if he curls the ends of them into his palms. Jeans are not the right trousers to wear when it’s below freezing. The rain is only making it all worse.

Luke keeps walking.

He keeps his head down, watching his feet as they carry him forward, one in front of the other with no clear destination except away. Away will eventually circle around and lead him home again — he’s not trying to permanently escape. Something about the rain feels like a reset button, and that might be exactly what Luke needs.

The thing is, this walk is supposed to be clearing Luke’s head, not weighing it down. Not weighing him down. Nothing is really wrong. If Luke tries to parse through his day, or the last couple of hours, he could probably single out a couple of things that might be to blame — calling home always makes him a little more fragile; call ended digs into his chest every time in a way that feels tragically, unjustifiably final — but he’s tired of having a reason for feeling heavy. Sometimes life is just hard. That’s the issue with the question what’s wrong, Luke thinks, blinking at the lights reflecting off the glistening road. Often, nothing is wrong. Does something have to be wrong for me to feel bad? he wants to say, except nobody has even asked him, and this entire conversation is happening inside his head.

Even in his head he’s creating problems where there aren’t any. Awesome.

A chill has taken up permanent residence in Luke’s body. He curls inward, trying to pretend like the wind isn’t blowing around him, like the rain isn’t stinging his face and the exposed strip of his ankles that his jeans and socks don’t quite meet to cover. It’s starting to come down harder; Luke’s hoodie is sticking to his shoulders and back and he might as well be wearing nothing at all for all the protection it’s providing him from the cold. He knows that this is the wrong thing to wear in this weather, but that had kind of been the point. It feels right to be doing something wrong on purpose. It certainly feels better than doing it wrong by accident. Or by virtue of it being beyond his control.

He’d expected to be cold, and he is. A sick sort of comfort arises from having predicted that cause-and-effect.

Luke’s mental clock is rubbish, and though his phone is in his pocket he can’t take it out and check it or it’ll get wet, so he has no idea how long he’s been out when it rings. Buzzes. Luke sighs. He digs his phone out of his pocket, cradling it to his chest to keep it out of the rain, and answers the call. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Luke waits for Michael to say anything. Eventually: “Where are you?”

“Outside,” Luke says. He looks around. “About five minutes away.”

“Away? Where did you go?”

“I didn’t — I was just walking.”

“Oh.” Michael pauses, and Luke knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “In the rain?”

“Is it raining?”

“...Yes?”

“Then yes, in the rain.”

“Okay. Well. Um, are you going to be back soon?”

Luke sighs again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Are you, uh…” There’s a moment of silence. Luke glances around himself, turning his back to the wind. The constant motion of his walk had been the only thing keeping him from becoming a glacier of a man, and now he’s lost that.

“Don’t worry about me, Mike,” Luke says. “I won’t be out too long. Promise.” He can’t, or he’ll get hypothermia or frostbite or something.

“Okay,” Michael says. Luke can tell he’s struggling not to ask if Luke is okay, and it makes Luke feel inexplicably affected. That Michael wants to ask, but knows Luke well enough to know that Luke won’t want him to.

“I’m okay,” he says as a compromise. It’s not really true, but it’s what he would have said if Michael had asked him anyway.

“Okay,” Michael says again, more quietly. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

There’s a long silence. Then Michael hangs up.

The hand holding Luke’s phone slowly lowers, shoving it back into his pocket. Luke stares down at the ground. He blinks back tears, but they come faster than he’s able to stop them. There’s no mistaking tears for rain, actually, not in this weather, because these tears are hot and salty when they slide down his cheeks and into the corners of his mouth. The incongruity of warm tears on his freezing cold face almost makes him laugh, except when he opens his mouth to laugh what comes out instead is an unsolicited sob.

Shit. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to cry. He really hadn’t wanted to cry. He’s not going to become a blubbering mess in the middle of the road at midnight. Being sad is acceptable when nothing’s wrong, but crying when nothing’s wrong is crossing a fucking line.

Why, why is it that hanging up the phone just stabs him in the heart? What the fuck is his problem?

One minute, he tells himself, crouching down because the smaller he is, the warmer he’ll be; one minute of crying and then you’re going to stop crying, because there’s nothing to cry about. One minute.

And for one minute he cries.

After one minute, he’s mostly out of tears anyway. Sniffling, he wipes under his eyes with his damp sleeve. That’s enough, he thinks firmly, sniffling again. Enough. It’s enough.

Before he stands up, he closes his eyes and takes a deep, deep breath. It doesn’t alleviate the weight on his chest, the weight of nothing being wrong, but blocking his vision allows him to tune into his other senses. It’s freezing cold and he shivers, listening to the rain softly hitting the pavement. This isn’t a panic attack, but Luke always finds it helpful to zero in on his senses. Quiet rain like static in his ears, the denim of his jeans creased behind his knees in his crouch, lingering salt on his tongue from the last of the tears, tight skin on his cheeks, his shaky inhales and exhales as he fights for a steady breathing pattern.

He’s okay.

Five minutes from home. Luke straightens up, hugging his arms around himself. His fingers and toes have all but frosted over by now. The world is awash in pale yellow and ashy grey, punctuated with almost-black in dark, unlit corners. On either side of him, familiar houses urge Luke onward, promising one more familiar than the rest if he just keeps walking.

So he does.

Five minutes feels very long, though Luke’s sense of time is, of course, warped beyond recognition, and for all he knows it’s ten minutes before he sees their house. Or two.

Luke stands at the curb before the walkway. It’s freezing cold. He should go inside and warm up. He should make a cup of tea. He should take a hot shower.

Through the window it’s bright, though, so bright, far too bright for the gloomy mood still clamping down on Luke’s shoulders. Even if he went through the living room and shut himself in his room with the lights off, it wouldn’t be the same. The mood is uninterrupted and he doesn’t want to break it with anything.

As Luke stands there, shivering and indecisive, the front door opens.

“Luke?”

“Hi,” Luke says again, like he did on the phone.

“It’s below freezing,” Michael says. “Are you coming in?”

“No.” He’s not. He can’t. Not yet, anyway. Maybe in five minutes. He can go five more minutes before frostbite becomes a real possibility.

“It’s cold, you’ll freeze,” says Michael.

“It’s not that cold.”

“And it’s raining. Cold and raining.”

“I’m not really cold,” Luke lies. “I’m okay. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Michael stands on the stoop, watching him. From this distance it’s hard to see his expression, but Luke can pretty much guess it’s a mixture of disapproval and concern. Michael has perfected it.

“Be right back,” he finally says, then slips back inside, leaving the door slightly ajar, before Luke can tell him he really doesn’t need to come back. Luke waits, though he contemplates just leaving for another walk. He’s not a dick. Although if Michael returns with Ashton or Calum, Luke will probably be annoyed. He’s not a child and he doesn’t need mothering, which Ashton is sure to do, nor is he in the mood to be cheered up, so Calum won’t be any help either.

Michael returns. He’s wearing a jacket and a beanie and there’s a blanket from off their couch in his hands.

“Michael,” Luke says.

“Please,” Michael says. “I’m obviously not going to convince you to come inside, but I don’t want you to freeze.” He takes the steps, footsteps falling where Luke’s had, and comes close enough to Luke that when he offers up the blanket, Luke reaches out and takes it. “I know you don’t wear jackets,” Michael explains.

It feels like cheating. The masochistic walk should be all-or-nothing. But Luke can’t bring himself to refuse it. It’s not about the blanket, is the thing, really; it’s not about being warm. It’s about the gesture, about accepting the love and concern of a friend when Luke obviously needs it.

The blanket unfolds in his hands and he wraps it around himself. Some of the chill subsides. A new warmth blooms cautiously from within, starting in his sternum and spreading outward. It moves slowly and with difficulty, thawing the ice that’s formed inside Luke’s chest from all of his internal insistence that being cold had been the solution, but it doesn’t back down.

“Can I stay?” Michael asks. “You can say no.”

“Stay for what?” Luke glances around. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yeah, I know. I just. Thought you might want to do nothing but…with a friend.”

Luke considers saying no. Michael would shrug, eyebrows drawing together in more concern, probably. Okay, he would say. Come inside soon. He would probably shift on his feet, trying to determine whether or not it would be okay to hug Luke, and ultimately decide against it. The door would close behind him and Luke would have the big, empty, glacial outdoors to himself. That had been the goal, when he’d left. To be alone. To have all the room in the world, with the hopes that attempting to fill it would spread his sadness too thin to hold weight. Except that hadn’t really worked. He’d just grown dense, stodgy instead of risen. The rain must have iced his sadness in.

“Would you?” Luke says quietly, swallowing.

Michael nods. He does a very good job pretending like he hadn’t desperately wanted Luke to say yes, although Luke knows he had. “Are you still walking?”

“I think I was going to sit,” Luke says, glancing down at the curb. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” Michael says, and Luke really believes that. Luke takes a seat on the curb, even though the frozen rain seeps through his jeans, and Michael sits shoulder-to-shoulder beside him. They both stare out across the street.

After a moment, Michael speaks quietly out into the air. “What — uh — I don’t really know what question to ask. Or if I shouldn’t ask anything.”

“Just as long as you don’t ask what’s wrong,” Luke says wearily. “I’m sick of what’s wrong.”

“Fair enough,” Michael says. There’s a beat of silence. “What are we doing out here?”

“You’re keeping me company.”

“And you’re…?”

Luke shrugs, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. It’s still raining and even the blanket is going to be soaked through soon. Luke’s hands are inside his sleeves, which are inside the blanket, but they’re still numb. “Wallowing.”

He really is wallowing, the most self-indulgent kind of sadness. Hardest to let go of, easiest to drown in.

“Oh,” Michael says, a soft edge in his voice. “That makes sense.”

“It does?”

“I don’t know, yes?” Michael reaches out with his converse, tapping the side against Luke’s calf. “You’re a wallowing kind of guy. Sometimes that’s what you need.”

For the second time tonight, Luke feels abruptly like he might cry, but this time he doesn’t. “Uh. Thanks. I think?”

“I can wallow with you,” Michael says simply.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Luke’s lips. “Yeah,” he admits.

“Yeah,” Michael says, like he’s just made a point. “But you shouldn’t wallow alone. You should at least have company.”

Luke takes a deep breath. He pulls his hood further over his head and glances over at Michael, who’s just watching his own feet with interest.

“Okay,” Luke allows, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Just a couple more minutes. Then we can go inside.” He wonders if this had been Michael’s ploy, to guilt Luke back indoors by offering to freeze for him. But he’s pretty sure it isn’t a trick. Michael isn’t manipulative. He’s just loyal.

“Whatever you want,” Michael says, kicking carelessly at a loose piece of asphalt.

Luke hesitates, lingering in the bubble of silence between them that almost seems to mute the rest of the world. Michael looks over at him finally. When he meets Luke’s eyes, he quirks a transient smile. The warmth defrosting Luke’s insides grows hotter.

Luke leans his head on Michael’s shoulder, and Michael only shifts to accommodate him. “You can wallow with me. We can wallow together. If you want to. If you don’t mind.”

Michael tilts his head against Luke’s and hooks his foot around Luke’s ankle. “Yeah. Wallowing together. I can do that.”

It’s bitterly cold, and the icy rain and wind are doing them no favours. But when Luke closes his eyes this time, the only sensation that seems to matter is Michael’s shoulder solid under Luke’s weight, and he doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

#luke hemmings #michael clifford #.............do i tag this as muke????#fuck it friendship is romance #muke #muke fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #yes i listened to therapy for three and a half hours and wrote this fic so like #i wouldnt BLAME you if you dont believe me for saying this #but i swear im okay lol #im honestly chillin #should probably go to bed soon/now but other than that #happy to report that we are simply vibing chief

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

Note

hi i just read your tags on the arm wrestling thing and???? please?? write that???? please i need it i might actually start crying rn but i am hungover so lets blame it on that ily

Hiiii! Before you even sent this ask I was thinking about it hahahahaha, aaaaand I hope this is satisfactory work!

Tagging @thinger-strang because they seemed quite interested as well~

Hope you feel better soon bby, ily2!!! Drink plenty of water!

Hand in hand, elbows firm on the dining table, gazes locked unblinkingly so, they’re connected tightly this late afternoon.

It was a usual Saturday at first - the gang was in the middle of their intense DnD session; a hobby they decided to move to the Harrington mansion because here there’s no parents to interrupt and, frankly, better snacks.

A decision paired well with how Billy has been helping Steve out with his tower of homework once a week for the last half a year or so, and Max is elated because it means she doesn’t need to get a dorky bike when she can just hitch a ride with her step-brother.

Billy and Steve were, metaphorically, elbow deep in English literature, homework on Edgar Allan Poe and the “romantic era” of poetry, which to Billy isn’t exactly something he wants to study so closely with the one guy he can’t ever stop thinking about; can’t ever have.

So when the little brats shouts for them, interrupting whatever Steve was asking about, gesturing with those hands, hair smelling so fucking good of expensive shampoo- what is that? Lavender?

The six of them trot into the dining room, Max looking horribly exasperated, arms crossed and rolling her eyes as Will and Dustin fight about something way too loudly.

“Hey!” Billy shouts but they don’t stop. “Hey!” Louder this time and it visibly shakes poor Will. “What is it?”

“Well, we were on our way to fight this dragon, ordered by lord-” Mike starts explaining but stops promptly as Billy raises his hand up.

“The short version, we’re kinda in the middle of something here.” Billy gestures to the incomprehensible mess of papers and books in front of him and Steve, who looks relieved at the chance of a break.

“So we’re in a tavern” Mike tries again, but-

“This better be quick, Wheeler, or you’ll have to explain to your mom how your bike got bent.”

“Billy,” Max groans with a hard stare, after all, he had agreed to be nice.

Both to her and to Steve.

“We need you guys to arm wrestle!” Mike spits out and looks between the vastly stronger, older guys.

And at that Billy can’t help but grin all crooked with exposed teeth. See that’s something he can get behind; a chance to show off and prove he’s still the King, even if he and Steve have found something akin to friendship after their truce.

“Well why didn’t you just say so,” Billy almost chuckles. He places an arm across the back of Steve’s chair and turns to look at him. “What’d you say, princess?”

Steve looks more than a bit intimidated, eyeing Billy’s arms, chest, grin, and then Dustin and the rest. “What’s at stake?”

“Oh, we’re at this tavern, and Max and Lucas have each bet on these two strong orcs sitting and doing an arm wrestle in the middle of a roaring crowd, and we need you guys to decide who wins! For it to be fair,” Dustin says, shockingly without any interruption from Billy, and smiles oh so wide that Steve even asked.

“Okay, sure,” Steve doesn’t sound very convincing, but he shakes his head and stands up to walk to the other side of the table.

“But it’s not fair!” Max shakes her head. “Billy is clearly going to win, so how do we decide which of the two orcs he is?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Steve’s voice a slight bit shaky, perhaps because everyone knows he’ll lose, even himself.

Billy just sticks out his tongue at him and rumbles forth a chuckle. Oh he is going to destroy Steve, no doubt about it. He’s been looking at those arms, fought him before even, and while he’s not the worst fighter Billy’s been up against, he’s far from the best.

“How about I say the names and they decide which one they’ll be? That way they don’t know who bet on who, and you guys won’t have a say in it?” Will asks as he settles into the chair next to Steve, ready to judge the show of strength.

“Genius!” Lucas proclaims and sits down on the other side of Steve.

Max simply scoffs and goes to stand next to Billy.

“We have Urzok the Infernal, and Dhakk the Mighty,” Will offers up and looks between Steve and Billy,

“I’ll take Dhakk the Mighty,” Billy drawls out and wags his tongue at Steve, whose Adam’s apple bobs visibly as he swallows hard.

“Guess I’m Ur… Urok?”

“Urzok,” Will says with a far too serious tone, as if it actually matters.

And their hands clasp together atop the sea of notes. Strong, firm, warm, soft. Does Steve use lotion on his hands? Billy teasingly squeezes the other’s hand a bit tighter for a short moment, a little signal of “You’re going down, pretty boy.”

But for some reason that Billy isn’t too keen on exploring, Steve squeezes back, and his heart does a dangerous flip that nearly causes his cocky grin to falter. Does he know what he’s doing to Billy? Is he aware of the stupid effect this causes?

“Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” Steve says with sudden confidence, as if he fucking knows.

“Yeah, ready.” Billy counts it as a victory that he doesn’t stutter those two simple words.

He’s starting to sweat, actually, and prays that Steve doesn’t notice it - that his hand doesn’t turn clammy and gross. The first time he touches Steve’s hand and he’s going to ruin it by being sweaty and sticky.

“1… 2…”

Somehow it’s the slowest countdown he’s ever listened to.

“3… Go!”

And Billy’s entire arm tenses up immediately. Steve’s pushing against him, grasp tight and desperate, is this all he got? Billy’s not even moving yet, rock steady although he can feel that Steve could probably win with enough determination, the way his arm is starting to go in the wrong direction.

So he pushes back a bit, just enough so that Steve knows, arms going in the right direction this time, further and further in favor of Billy.

The kids are shouting and screaming their names- well, the orc names, but Billy doesn’t really register their words or who’s cheering for who. He’s gazing straight into those eyes where he drowns in honey, staring back beneath a tense brow.

Steve’s smiling somewhat, it’s hard to tell from the way his lips are pulled tight, but Billy has watched Harrington enough to know his expressions.

And as Steve’s arm starts to shake ever so slightly - not visibly so, but felt in their grasp - Billy’s not even halfway through his energy reserve, and honestly he’d hoped for a bit more of a challenge, but…

He eases up, just enough for it to be believable as Steve starts pulling him in the other direction. Even so, Billy is not about to go down easy. Halfway to his loss and he’s still holding strong, Steve’s exhaustion more apparent now yet he smiles lighter, forehead less wrinkled, some gleams in his eyes.

The back of Billy’s hand meets the table softly, and everyone but Max jumps up ecstatically, clapping and shaking Steve by the shoulders as he won.

Steve’s got both his hands in the air now, leaving Billy to feel weirdly lonely, but he won’t dwell on that.

“Yeah!” Steve hollers victoriously, pumping his fists so full of vigor. “And the crowd goes wild!” He cups his mouth like a megaphone and mimics a cheering crowd as best as he can.

Dustin and Lucas jump around him, shouting all sorts of nonsense that isn’t meant to be understood past their excitement, yet Max’s scoff manages to be heard above their celebration, and she stomps back into the living room with El and Mike in tow.

“Change that to Urzok the Champion!” Steve shouts just as elated as the kids and points to Will, who’s almost beaming at the way those three makes a scene.

Unfortunately, Billy hadn’t really given the side effects of victory any thought, and seeing how happy Steve is to have won stirs something in him.

“Harrington! Harrington! Harrington!” Steve, Dustin and Lucas all chant like they’re at a football game, all deep and gruff. “Harrington! Harrington! Harrington!”

There’s a pang of heart and a souring of his gut. Billy knows that he let Steve win. There’s no need to feel threatened or jealous or whatever. Kinda angry, kinda entertained. Kinda sick-ish.

“You really thought you had me there for a moment, huh Billy?” Steve points to where Billy remains seated, smiling but not with full honesty. “Thought you could defeat the King!”

Okay that does it. “Come on pretty boy, one more time, just for fun,” there’s restraint at the edge of his tone, and his smile twitches with something mean. He pats the table and offers up his hand again.

But Steve throws his head back as he laughs in a mocking tone, friendly enough, although far too boastful.

“Nah, I won-” He presses a finger against his chest, then points to Billy. “-And you lost!”

The way Steve smiles so wide actually hurts in a way, and it is shocking how something so small and meaningless can wound Billy’s pride.

“And you can never-” Steve slams both hands onto the table. “-Ever-” He leans in close enough for Billy to feel him breathe out, “-Take that away from me.”

There’s a far too familiar desire to reach out, to touch skin, to meet the source of those words. Billy’s only seconds away from either punching Steve or kissing him, he can’t really tell, but his entire being is ready to act.

Steve doesn’t linger there though, pulls away and lifts up his arms, flexes his biceps and tips his head down to plant a kiss on each, really showing off just how strong he is, boasting about being the victor.

“Guys come on!” Mike shouts from inside the living room, clearly very impatient.

“Yeah yeah we’re coming!” Dustin replies at the same volume and sets off.

“Thanks,” Will speaks low, or maybe it just sounds like it from the way the others assaulted Billy’s eardrums with their shrieking.

And soon enough they’re all alone again.

Billy slumps against his chair, playing with a pencil that will soon break under the tension of his unresolved feelings.

Steve puts his hands on his hips, chest heaving as he tries to calm down again, looking just as flushed and worn out as he does after basket. He huffs a laugh and shakes his head, then returns to his seat right next to Billy, who’s smiling something so sly.

“You… you let me win, didn’t you?” Steve asks all breathless and runs a hand through his hair. His exhaustion comes more from the wild gloating than the actual wrestling they did.

“All I can say is…” Billy leaves a pause that is a clear indication of a yes as he eyes Steve up and down. “Congrats on the win, Urzok the Champion.”

#Harringrove #My Writing #I'm gonna label this as a #request #because technically it is hehehe #hope you both liked it!!!#I had a lot of fun writing it #got longer than intended ofc #but that's how it goes #lesbianferrissbueller

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

holiday getaway

pairing: jonathan byers/nancy wheeler/steve harrington

fandom: stranger things

rating: general

word count: 1587

warning: swearing, alcohol

summary: Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and the Christmas times they share. (canon compliant, 3+1 things)

(of course my own 12 days of fanfiction event is belated as hell. anywayyyy thank you to @poirot for the prompt, ily and really hope you enjoy this babeeee 💖 it went in a weird direction but,, yeah !!! softies)

read on ao3

1) Nancy + Steve

Nancy knows she can’t quite escape the family Christmas spectacle. At least, her mother’s obsessed with the picture perfect thought, despite the others wanting to be about everywhere else than home.

She can tell that Mike wishes his friends were there. Their father probably doesn’t care for the holidays altogether.

And as insufferable as her younger brother comes, she feels bad for him. She’d also feel the same way, if the only friend she cared about, her true friend, wasn’t taken away from her.

But Steve’s here. And the day before Christmas Eve, Nancy rings on his doorbell, and he kisses her cheek, and they sort of pretend everything’s okay for the night.

Sometimes, she envies that her boyfriend’s parents are barely home, but she also knows not to say, because what kind of thing is that to be jealous about, really?

He’s wearing a t-shirt, because he’s stupid like that.

Steve also hugs her a lot, probably because her sweater is exceptionally soft, and he freezes easily, even though he’ll never admit it.

She likes it here.

It’s a kind of peace Nancy’s never known at home, and even though she can’t help thinking of Jonathan, and the way he looks at her changed, like it’s not quite a frown anymore, she feels good.

Her boyfriend doesn’t mention what they got up to in the other boy’s house. To be fair, he wasn’t meant to be involved anyway. But here they are.

And Nancy knows, ever since their first date, that Steve is good . It feels like she’s known him forever, and her boyfriend always laughs at her when she looks at him, but like, it’s like she looks right through him.

Through the hands in his pockets, and the constant fixing of that stupidly perfect hair, all of it. Funny how she once thought he was the definition of being cool and collected.

Nancy likes this version of him more, she thinks.

And she swore he gave Jonathan a smile when the whole thing was over. The boy told her he apologised, so she’s got proof, even if Steve still wants to convince himself all those monsters was a vivid dream of his own imagination.

Nancy guesses that coping method gives him peace of his own. So she won’t convince him otherwise.

They all got their own ways. Even herself.

2) Jonathan + Nancy

There’s not much in this life, whether that be before his little brother’s disappearance, the madness that infested his previously though perpetually boring town, or falling in love with a girl entirely out of his league - Jonathan hadn’t prepared for anything. At all.

That’s a given in a town like Hawkins. Only thing he could plan was, eventually, to get as far away from here as possible.

This plan mostly resided in his own mind. God knows it would break his mom’s heart right now.

But let’s say Jonathan’s been given some reasons to stay. Most importantly, he’ll take care of Will, and his mother.

He’s always put them first, because his mom carries so much on her shoulders, and he’s promised himself to only leave when he knew she would be okay. He owes her that much.

And now, seeing his brother in pain, surely dealing with trauma that he won’t let anyone in on, it hurts.

But his family, that’s a given in his mind.

Nancy, she’s a reason he didn’t account for at first. And when she stays overnight, before she gets to enjoy her own Christmas nightmare, as she calls her family, he still doesn’t quite believe this is happening.

She seemed like this flawless concept of a person before he actually met her, and while she’s still perfect in his own mind, it’s the little things she does, ones he didn’t expect, that makes him feel warm.

Nancy smiles less now, and Jonathan knows Barb still got a piece of her she won’t get back.

And Steve, well, he doesn’t really know. They got issues.

It’s actually kind of strange. The other boy surprised him, that’s for sure, but given the only idea he had of him was a massive douche, it’s easy to improve.

Jonathan actually tries.

It’s when Nancy’s walking around his room, taking it in with her eyes sparkling in a particular way, like it felt less real like the neverending shit Hawkins gave them, and the question of how Steve’s doing escapes his lips.

She shrugs.

Why should he care, he supposes. He can’t let it go, shockingly enough, but Jonathan can tell when he oversteps boundaries like that.

And the girl’s head on his chest when they turn off the lights, warm breath on his throat, it’s like finding a peace he’s been searching for. For a long time.

3) Steve + Jonathan

When Steve receives word of the Byers’ returning to Hawkins for the holidays, just a week, they said, he felt some kind of obligation to do something.

Greet them, at least. But he doesn’t.

The douchebags from the team keep asking him what it’s like to have his girl stolen by a loser, which doesn’t make sense, because they broke up way before the two became official, but also, Steve’s glad he had enough brain to leave those kinds of friends behind.

Jonathan isn’t a loser. He did give him a good punch, but given their history, he felt it tied them. Or not really, cause god knows he’s given Jonathan hell.

If right should be right, the other boy should give him 10 punches. At least.

And believe it or not, he really does consider going to the Byers house. Why is that?

Because of Jonathan, which is weird.

Steve doesn’t imagine them being friends, mostly because of his own faults. He does babysit all those kids, he could say hi to Will. Would be decent of him.

But shit, he’s too much of a coward.

He apologised, but Steve doesn’t feel it’s enough. Can’t really look himself in the mirror when it comes to… everything, really.

Nope, better to head straight home from work, and Robin left an hour earlier, so it’s not like he got any excuses to go anywhere else. It’s Christmas day, for heaven's sake. Steve wasn’t surprised when his parents left a note about some business trip earlier in the week. Again.

What does surprise him is finding the boy he’s been desperately avoiding sitting on the hood of his car.

And like the idiot he is, Steve attempts to clear his throat, but it comes out like a wheeze, and Jonathan gives him a look like he’s thinking too hard about math problems, or whatever.

And even though he doesn’t understand why the boy’s here, or how he found out where he works, for that matter, not much conversation happens.

Jonathan’s brought two beers with him.

Steve considers asking about Nancy, but doesn’t.

Just two bros drinking beer and freezing their asses off, like they didn’t kill a monster together mere months ago.

Maybe that’s why he finds some sort of comfort within himself when Jonathan puts his hand on top of his. The silence is more peaceful than he ever expected.

+1) Nancy + Steve + Jonathan

Like much else in Nancy’s life, by now, at least, another Christmas comes by, and she finds herself wondering how this particular situation happened.

Well, no, she’s part of it.

She’s not sure she completely understands it, but being tucked away with Jonathan… and Steve, it’s different in an otherworldly, comfortable way.

Nancy had always thought of herself getting married to Steve, having a couple kids, and probably following the footsteps of her own nuclear family.

She hated that thought when her mother’s unhappiness shined through the facade, but what else choice did she have in Hawkins?

Well, her boys are holding hands. Didn’t see that coming. But she likes it.

And despite their hesitation when she suggested this thing, all three of them, together, their tiny smiles made her know they wanted to, anyway. Maybe her, and their fear, of this closeknit society that very easily borders on toxicity, faded away.

She knows hers did.

Mike initially looked confused, but come on, he’s seen weirder things. They pinkie promise not to slip any word to their parents.

God, she feels childish. But after all this shit, and chaos, well, it’s like their sibling hood's reborn, or something.

Or maybe Mike’s just maturing. Maybe she’s maturing. Who knows.

Regardless of the where, how, why, who, Steve lets them in his all too empty house, and the mutual agreement of silence, small serenity, quickly changes to laughing til their stomachs aches, and Jonathan’s new camera almost runs out of film.

Lots of kisses. Nancy can’t get enough, really.

And in a way it hasn’t before, the family wars of Christmas morning don’t seem quite as intimidating anymore.

She hopes Mike and his friends are having fun. That El’s hurting less.

She also agrees to be the little spoon, even though Jonathan’s spot in the middle is pretty damn warm, she imagines, but they figure out a deal of changing up every once in a while.

And with the boy’s arms around her waist, and Steve’s hand grazing her own, there’s probably not much that would compare to this.

Nancy doesn’t even need the music drowning the world out at that moment, and yeah, the bed’s just a tad too small for the three of them, but they huddle close regardless. They’ll keep warm. And safe.

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reddie-fangirl24 · 4 years

Note

This was difficult cause WOW amazing film choices, I’d love any of the losers in the beginning scene of Cabin in the Woods? Like when they’re getting ready to leave, probably Richie as Marty the stoner and Eddie as Dana who doesn’t realize he’s having a full conversation without pants on, Beverly as Jules who just dyed her hair blonde, Ben as Curt who has to point out the pants, & Mike as Holden the hot new guy in the group?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMISSION!

I hope you enjoy the story!

This was going to be a great weekend! Eddie couldn’t remember the last time the Losers club hung out. Funny, it was strange how he didn’t remember who Ben was for a moment. Why weren’t they spending much time together ever since high school started?

Putting that worry aside, Eddie was busy getting dressed, packing all the suitcases that he needed. He was so happy to meet at Ben’s house. If his mother found out where he was really going and who he’d be with then he’d spend the rest of the weekend locked in his room. Nothing new.

Something fell out from between the pages of one of his school textbooks. Shocked, grabbing it, Eddie looked at the drawing he made of his history teacher.

“What a piece of shit,” a familiar girl’s voice gawked over his shoulder.

“I was in a hurry!” Eddie yelled, slamming the drawing back between the pages. He scrambled for his inhaler on the table and took a puff. His heart was already racing enough. Thank God, it was not Richie. Oh, if anybody found out about his affection for his teacher then they were going to believe he was some kind of psycho.

Beverly giggled. She missed this. It had been a while since she last met up with her best friends. Just like Eddie, she couldn’t make out Bill’s voice over the phone when he called to invite her. And she almost forgot about living in Derry before moving.

“You know what I mean. Do you hate that teacher? I always draw out the teachers that I don’t like and stick them on the dartboard.”

Eddie groaned, his cheeks growing hot. “Um, no, you see, I drew it-” He paused when he took a look at his friend’s hair. She was no longer his ginger-haired friend. Beverly was his blonde friend! “Holy shit, your hair!”

“Very fabulous, no?” Beverly asked, showing off her short locks like a model.

“I can't believe you did it!” Eddie exclaimed.

“But it’s nice, right?” Beverly asked, growing nervous. Even she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go through with the change. The other girls at school all had blonde hair. She was always an outsider among them. “Could you please say something because I’m starting to get insecure about it and - “

“Oh God, no, it's awesome,” Eddie relaxed her, touching Beverly’s shoulder. “It looks good, really. I never thought you’d change your hair.”

“It was an impulse,” Beverly shrugged, trying to get off the subject. “I woke up one morning and thought it would be a good idea. Besides, we all need a change now and then, right?”

“Bill will like it,” Eddie remarked. He knew that he had feelings for Beverly in the time when they hung out together. Bill could never stop staring at her when they were together.

Beverly snickered, “That is if he’ll notice. Ben will probably notice it before Bill,” she remarked. And then she pointed to the picture that Eddie was holding. “You should get rid of that.”

Eddie looked at the textbook in his hand. Wait, which did she mean? The drawing inside or the textbook itself. “Huh?” he tried to act dumb.

Shaking her head, and smiling again, Beverly walked over to him and pointed at his chest. “Right, Eddie Kaspbrak, Homewrecker. Please. Do you know who you are going to hook up with this weekend? A boy your age with thick glasses.

Again, Eddie’s cheeks flushed. How did she know these things? “God, that's the last thing... if you treat this like a set-up I'm gonna have no fun at all!”

Beverly set up one of Eddie’s suitcases on the bed. He had two which took up most of the floor in the room. Funnily enough, she only packed one. “I'm not pushing you to do anything. But we're not packing this!” she indicated to the textbook.

“This means we definitely won't have room for this,” she said as she took out the drawing from Eddie and dropping it to the floor. As Eddie went after it, he heard a ‘tsk’ noise. When he looked back up, Beverly was holding two of his school textbooks.

“Oh come on, what if I'm bored?” Eddie argued. “And my mom wants me to study!”

“‘Soviet Economic Structures’? ‘The Aftermath of the Cultural.’” She made a gagging face. “No! We have a lake! Kegl We are the Losers on the verge of wild -- Look at my hair, man!”

She did make a fair point. “It’s great...”

Just then Ben burst into the room with a football. Bill was right behind, crashing into the door as he slid into it. He was a clutz, that was for sure. Accompanying them was Stanley who was not happy about their antics.

“Think fast! And a going Mike Hanlon who is in the outfield, or in this case, the streets!” Ben dramatized as if he were one of those football announcers.

“That's a letterman jacket he's wearing and yes, that's a football he's throwing right at the girls.” Bill included in the dramatization as he swiveled around Eddie’s luggage.

He and Bill practically tore about the room, running around and knocking objects over. Beverly had no idea that they became interested in football. Especially Ben. Was he losing weight?

“Would you guys stop?” Eddie asked of them, almost jumping on his desk when Bill ran by him.

“Please, you are going to break something if you are not careful!” Stanley shouted, keeping a safe distance at the door.

“Well, faster than that...” Bill commented, Stanley’s words going in one ear and out the other.

“Ben!” Somebody called from out the window. Eddie glanced out the window to see Mike. It had been a long time since he saw him. Bill threw the football out the window. Jumping into the air, Mike caught it. Lucky for him, a car stopped just in time when he hopped into the street. The driver was not happy with him.

“Sorry. Sorry,” he excused himself, letting the car drive on. That was an unsafe choice for him to make in the first place. He was just so ecstatic to spend the weekend with his friends. So, he went over the curbside and waited for his friends.

“Are you guys insane?” Stanley asked them, clashing at his hair. He looked like he was going to burst an artery.

Understanding the circumstances, Ben nodded. “Sorry, Stan.”

Finally, Bill noticed Beverly for the first time. He froze, staring at her. What a terrible time for his mouth to dry up. “Beverly.”

She smiled. “Hi, Bill.”

“Wow, look at your hair!” Ben remarked. He never thought that Beverly would do something like this. Her ginger hair was lovely. But it was so nice to see her again.

“See, I told you that Ben would be the first to notice,” Beverly elbowed Eddie.

“N-No, I d-did notice! I uh...” Oh great, the stutter was back, too. “It’s really great to see you.”

Beverly smiled at her friends, but her heart fell. At that moment she felt how unnecessary the blonde hair was. They always accepted her for who she was. “It’s great to be back. Now let’s get this weekend started!” she ecstatically threw her arms into the air.

“I never knew you were the type to actually take textbooks home,” Ben innocently joked. He hoped that it wouldn’t insult Beverly. When they did go to school together she was hardly ever in class. She never had the homework and quipped to the teacher that she didn’t take the textbook home with her for assignments.

Eddie took the textbook back from Beverly. “There’s nothing wrong about taking a textbook on the trip,” Stanley commented. And then he was the one to get a look from everybody.

“Seriously? Professor Bennett covers this whole book in his lectures. Read the Gurovsky; it's way more interesting and Bennett doesn't know it by heart so he'll think you're insightful.” Bill explained. Beverly glanced his way. Did Bill actually learn some poetic terms while she was away?

“We’d better get going,” Stanley told them, leaving the room. “Where is Richie anyway? He said that he’d be here by now!”

Eddie got all his belongings together. Richie. He was spending the weekend with Richie. They hadn’t done that in a long time.

Before he left the room, Ben nudged him. “You have no pants.” Gasping, Eddie scrambled to get pants. He was really standing here in his underwear the whole time? Taking a puff from his inhaler, he had to relax. This was going to be a fun weekend.

“Mike! Crazy mad skills of catching!” Bill told Mike once they were outside. They gave each other a high five.

“You laid it in my hands, I did but hold them out,” Mike commented.

“Hey, Mike! How is it going?” Beverly greeted her friend with a hug.

“I’m great. It’s nice to see you, Bev. Wow, look at your hair,” he remarked, taking a look at her gorgeous locks.

“Hey, Mike, how have you been?’ Eddie was next to greet him once he came out of the house. He struggled down the steps with all his luggage.

“Great. Thank you guys for letting me join. It’s been a while since we all met up,” Mike noted. He was not going to bring up the reason for their avoidance. This weekend was not about revisiting the shadows of the past. It had been a long time since he actually had fun. Being home school had its perks, but he did not enjoy the loneliness.

“Do you need help with your bags, Eddie?” Stanley asked his friend. He was struggling to lift his heavy bags into the trunk of the RV that Mike was able to talk his grandfather into borrowing. This thing sat in his farmland for years. Luckily, it was working fine.

“We’re going away for a weekend, right?” Beverly joked. “It’s a weekend, not an evacuation!”

“I have packed everything that I needed in case of any dangerous predicament!” Eddie commented. “Trust me when I say there is nothing in those cases you won't be glad I brought.”

“What could happen?” Ben asked, shrugging his shoulders.

“Tons of things,” Stanley remarked. “We could run into poison ivy, there could be jellyfish in the water, or - “

“Okay, Stan, we didn’t need an answer. Remember, we’re supposed to be having fun,” Bill reminded him.

All that was missing was... “Oh my, God,” Eddie commented when he looked across the street to see a car parking. It was half parked up on the sidewalk, annoying to women who were walking by.

And there was Richie Tozier, his mouth on a huge bong. He looked like he had trouble maneuvering it in the small car that he owned, hitting the horn by accident. Who’s to say that Eddie was surprised. Getting high and joking around was all Richie cared about.

“Richie!” Beverly called out to her friend. Oh, how she missed him. She ran up and gave him a hug. But that hug only lasted a second. “Shit, you stink!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Richie?” Stanley nagged him when he ran up to his car. He looked around as to make sure the police were not around.

“People in this town drive in a very counterintuitive manner, and that's what I have to say,” Richie giggled, obviously high out of his mind. His glasses were skewered on his head.

“Do you want to spend the weekend in jail?” Ben asked him. “'Cause we'd all like to check out my cousin's country home and not go to jail!”

“Richie you should know for a fact that this is not okay!” Beverly was next to lecture him.

Richie took out his duffel bag.“Statistical fact: cops will never pull over a man with a huge bong in his car. Why? They fear this, man. They know he sees farther than they and he will bind them with ancient logics.” He paused, taking a longer look at Beverly’s hair. “Have you gone grey?”

His comment resulted in Beverly giving him the finger. Things hadn’t changed at all.

“You're not bringing that thing in the rambler!” Eddie told him.

“A giant bong, in Mike’s van?” Richie went and poured the water out. Removing the bowl, Richie sticks it in a little holder inside the tube and telescopes the entire thing down, pulls a lid off the bottom, and pops it on the top, making it look exactly like a can of Fresca.

“What are you, stoned?” Stanley asked him, shaking his head in disbelief. Arguably, he was happy to be going on this trip. He missed their adventures.

“As Bolde,” Richie remarked with little care. They all rolled their eyes. Well, that was Richie Tozier for you.

“Come on, we’d best hit the road,” Mike told them, waving them inside. “I can take the first lag. Ben, you have the directions, right?”

As they were all getting into the van, Richie elbowed Eddie. “Eds! You fetching minx? Do you have any food?”

“Don’t call me Eds!” Eddie warned sticking a finger in his face.

“Come on, you like it! You know it!”

“No, I don’t! Call me Eds one more time on this trip and I will bury you in your grave!”

This was going to be an exciting weekend alright.

“Everybody ready?” Mike asked in the front seat. The Losers shouted in glee, throwing their hands up like they were on a roller coaster. “Then let's get this show on the road!”

#Reddie #cabin in the woods #it 2017 #it movie #benverly #billverly #it crossover #commission #bill denbrough #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #Beverly Marsh #Ben Hanscom #Mike Hanlon #Stanley Uris

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

taking the long way home

[ao3]

“May we have your attention for flight BA8227,” the tinny voice of the announcement says, and Ashton’s stomach sinks. They never announce anything he wants to hear; there’s never any we’ve upgraded hardworking and broke session drummer Ashton Irwin to first class, he’s also been given unlimited air miles and a refund on his overpriced tuna melt. “We are sorry to announce that this flight is delayed by approximately seven hours. This is due to unforeseen adverse weather conditions. I repeat-”

aka their flight is delayed au

Ashton Irwin does not, repeat not, like flying.

He thinks it’s a perfectly rational thing to dislike. He’s not afraid, by any means – it’s just such an inefficient way of getting anywhere. He’ll spend an hour getting to the airport in order to be two hours early for his three hour flight, and then spend another hour on the other end getting to wherever he actually needed to go because airports are never anywhere convenient. Not to mention the patting down he inevitably gets at security, the fifteen minute wait for them to check whether or not the dark shadow in his bag is a tube of lip balm or a stick of dynamite, and the ridiculous price of the lunch he’s forced to buy in Duty Free. All of that would perhaps, perhaps, be just about tolerable, if his flights were ever on fucking time.

So far, however, Ashton’s day is running fairly smoothly. He’d not even been ‘randomly selected’ at security for a pat down, and the lady in Costa had taken pity on him when he was fumbling with his coins (seriously, why the fuck are five-pence coins so small?) and given him his tuna melt panini for ten pence less than he owed. He’d even made it to his gate an hour before departure time, picking the most strategically placed seat so he can jump up and join the queue as soon as boarding is announced. All in all, Ashton’s having the most bearable day he could possibly have in an airport.

The universe, however, seems to have other plans. Despite it being January, despite the weather forecast saying it might snow, as soon as a single snowflake hits the runway, the entire fucking airport loses its shit. Flight after flight gets cancelled, delayed until the morning, and the airport is suddenly filling up as people aren’t getting on their flights. Ashton’s flight makes it all the way until half an hour before boarding is supposed to start, keeping Ashton’s hopes high, when-

Great. Fucking great. Not like Ashton has places to be, people to see, a life to live, a home he would like to get back to before the age of ninety. It’s already eleven p.m.; if Ashton’s rudimentary maths is accurate, his flight won’t be departing until nine a.m., if at all (he adds a few hours onto the delay, because he knows better than to trust airlines).

Groaning, he drags himself out of his well-selected seat and over to the information desk, where a small crowd is starting to gather, jostling impatiently to try and hear what the one harassed-looking employee is saying to the man at the front of the queue.

“Can you fucking believe this?” the guy behind Ashton grumbles. He’s got a familiar Aussie twang, but Ashton doesn’t even turn around to bond with him – testament to how bad of a mood he’s in.

“Yes,” Ashton says darkly. “It’s a fucking airline.”

“Fair point,” the guy says. “Reckon they’ll have any hotel rooms left? We must be the ninetieth flight delayed because of adverse weather conditions.”

“I’d rather take the extra compensation money and sleep on my suitcase,” Ashton says. The guy behind him laughs.

“Need the money?” he says, sympathetically. “I’ve been there, mate. What do you do?”

“I drum,” Ashton says. “Session musician.”

“Sweet,” the guy says. “I play guitar. Session musician, too, but my band’s trying to make it.”

“Oh?” Ashton says, interest finally piqued enough to turn around and get a good look at the guy. He’s about Ashton’s age, maybe a little younger, with a long, sweeping blonde fringe that Ashton’s impressed managed to cling on through to the 2020s.

“Yeah,” the guy says. “Heading out to LA to record. You?”

“I was here to record,” Ashton says, and then they’re interrupted by a tall guy rushing up, clutching a duffel bag in his arms.

“Sorry, Mike,” the guy says, slightly breathless. “The toilet’s a fucking mile away, and possibly in another dimension.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the fringe-owner (Mike?) says, rolling his eyes. “Hey, I’ve made a friend. He’s Australian and a session musician too. I’m considering replacing you with him.”

“Ashton,” Ashton says, nodding at both Mike and New Guy. He does a (subtle) double-take when he properly looks at New Guy, because Christ, he is fucking gorgeous. He’s got blonde hair that curls beautifully in the way that Ashton’s never managed to get own hair to, baby-blue eyes that blink at him from under dark, inky lashes, and a dimple on one side of the lips he’s currently biting.

Well. Consider Ashton fucked.

“Michael,” Mike says, nodding back. “And this is Luke.”

“Hi,” Luke says. “Sorry, I swear I’m not queue-jumping.”

“Wouldn’t matter to me if you were,” Ashton says. “You’re behind me.”

“You’re not very principled,” Luke says. Ashton shrugs.

“Never claimed to be,” he says.

“Ashton wants to sleep on his suitcase,” Michael informs Luke.

“I said the same thing,” Luke says. “I need the money.”

“I want a bed,” Michael says.

“You just want somewhere without me to call Calum,” Luke says accusingly.

“Can you blame me?” Michael says. “I’ve got to spend an extra seven hours with you now. Hey, maybe Ashton’ll take you off my hands.”

“No can do,” Ashton says, although his dick very much thinks yes, please, it would be my honour. “I need my beauty sleep.” Luke frowns.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he says, slightly petulantly. Michael pats him on the shoulder.

“Of course not, babe,” he says patronisingly. “Hey, Ashton, you’re next.” Ashton turns around, surprised at how fast the queue has moved, to see he is indeed the next person in the queue.

“Good evening, sir,” the lady says, tiredly, when Ashton slaps his ticket down on the counter. Ashton feels a stab of pity for her. It’s not her fault that airlines are determined to suck the joy out of life.

“I want the compensation money,” he says, figuring it’s best to cut to the chase.

“Thank goodness,” the lady says, scanning his ticket, “because we don’t have any hotel rooms left.

“Hear that?” Ashton hears Luke say to Michael.

“Yeah, Luke, I’m stood just as far away as you,” Michael tells Luke.

“Right,” Ashton says. “Is the flight actually going to leave tomorrow?”

“Not a clue,” the lady says, tapping away on her keyboard. “The money will be in your account in three business days, Mr Irwin.”

“Thanks,” Ashton says, picking up his suitcase and ticket and moving to the side to put his ticket and passport away.

(And yeah, maybe he fiddles a little more than strictly necessary with his suitcase, zipping and unzipping it a few times for no reason, until Luke and Michael finish with the customer service lady. It doesn’t mean anything.)

“…might not even be into guys, Mike, oh my God, fucking stop, stop,” he hears Luke hiss, sounding like he’s pleading, and he looks up from his suitcase to see Michael heading towards him with Luke trailing behind.

“Well?” Michael prompts, when they get to Ashton. Ashton looks at him questioningly, wondering whether he was supposed to overhear and comment on whatever Luke was talking about. “You’re going to spend the night with us, right? Us Aussies have to stick together. I can’t leave you on your own with British people in good conscience. Plus, I want to call my boyfriend, and I need someone to look after Luke.”

“I’m fucking twenty-three,” Luke says. “I can look after myself.”

“You left your passport in the hotel,” Michael says.

“Yeah, and then I remembered that I forgot it,” Luke says.

“Once you got to the airport.”

“So? Our flight’s got a seven hour delay,” Luke says. Michael rolls his eyes.

“I’m going to call Calum,” he says. “You two find somewhere nice and cosy for us to sleep tonight. Pick the best chairs.” Without waiting for a response, he strides off, phone already in his hand.

Great. Now Ashton’s stuck with possibly the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, and he’s in a terrible mood so he can’t even flirt.

“Sorry about him,” Luke says, and he does actually sound sorry. He’s worrying the bottom corner of his lip with his teeth, and Ashton wonders absent-mindedly whether there’s a cause behind that particular nervous tic. “You don’t have to stay with me. I mean, like, obviously not, you don’t even know me. Michael’s just…like that.”

“Don’t worry,” Ashton assures him, because something in his gut is screaming that he really, really does want to stay with Luke. “I could use the company.”

“I thought you wanted to sleep…?” Luke trails off.

“Who ever gets what they fucking want in an airport?” Ashton says, and Luke laughs, laughs, and Ashton’s stomach flips in a way that’s nearly pleasant and almost-probably isn’t to do with the tuna melt he ate earlier. He resolves to try and make Luke laugh as much as possible for the next seven-plus hours. “Let’s find some good seats to hog before the rest of the flights tonight get cancelled.” Luke nods, biting his lip again, and grabs his and Michael’s bags, following in Ashton’s wake.

Ashton, for all of his hatred of airports, is a master at finding the perfect seats, so it’s really no surprise when he spots a secluded little square of seats tucked away behind a wall that looks like it’s a dead end but isn’t. He’s kind of proud, though, when Luke makes a noise of surprise and approval, and tries not to let it go to his head.

(He doesn’t succeed.)

“Mike’ll be gone for, like, three hours at the very least,” Luke says apologetically. Good, Ashton wants to say. Get you all to myself. Sounds a bit serial-killer, though, when he thinks about it, so he doesn’t.

“His boyfriend?” he enquires, hoping it’s coming off very much as I, too, am interested in having a boyfriend and not a man with a boyfriend? What is the world coming to? Luke nods, so Ashton reckons he got close enough.

“Yeah,” Luke says, a small smile forming on his lips. “Calum. They’ve been together as long as I’ve known them.”

“How long’s that?” Ashton asks, curious.

“Ten years? Something like,” Luke says. Ashton whistles.

“That’s a long time for someone your age,” he says. Luke makes a small noise of outrage.

“My age?” Luke says indignantly. “You’re what, like, twenty-six?”

“Twenty-five,” Ashton corrects. “See? I said I needed my beauty sleep.” Luke scowls, but it’s good-natured.

They busy themselves with getting comfortable for a few minutes. Ashton leaves the seats by the window that’ll get draughty in the morning for Michael (first come first served, he thinks) and picks the row opposite Luke to stretch out on, kicking off his shoes and using his backpack as a pillow. From the corner of his eye, he sees Luke take a travel pillow and thin blanket out of his duffel bag, and for some reason Ashton’s heart decides that’s the cutest thing Luke’s done so far tonight.

“So, where in Australia are you from?” Luke asks, fluffing up the tiny pillow as best he can.

“Sydney,” Ashton says. “You?”

“No way,” Luke says, turning around to face Ashton. “Me too!” He sounds so excited that Ashton doesn’t have the heart to point out that it’s not that surprising, given Sydney has a fifth of Australia’s population.

“Whereabouts?” Ashton asks, hoping it’s not coming off as stalker-esque.

“Western Sydney,” Luke says, swinging his legs up and lying down on his row of seats. “Like, Oakville kind of area?”

“No way,” Ashton says, because that is a little bit more exciting than simply being from the same massive city. “I’m from Richmond.”

“That’s so weird,” Luke says happily. “What are the odds of bumping into someone else from western Sydney in Heathrow Airport?”

“Well, you’re here with Michael, aren’t you?” Ashton says, lying down and arranging his coat over himself.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be bumping into him,” Luke says. Then, as though the thought’s just struck him, he adds- “Hey, he said you play?” Ashton nods.

“Yeah, drums,” he says. “I can play guitar and a little bit of piano, too, but drums are my main love.” Luke grins, eyes crinkling around the corners, making Ashton’s stomach swoop.

“That’s fucking sick,” Luke tells him, and he sounds so earnest that Ashton actually believes that this random guy thinks Ashton’s ability to hit a drum with a stick is cool. “Our band needs a drummer, actually. I bet Michael’ll try and recruit you.”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says, pretending to muse. “My going rate is pretty high.”

“Oh?” Luke says. “Will ten pounds and a can of coke do?”

“I’ll do it for just the can of coke,” Ashton says, and Luke grins again. Ashton thinks it’s pretty unfair of the universe to present him with such a beautiful, out-of-his-league man when he’s tired and grumpy, so not up to his best conversation. If this were any other situation, Ashton would be wooing Luke so hard he’d put Romeo to shame.

“I’m going to try and sleep,” Ashton says. I want to try and be in a better mood tomorrow morning so I can flirt with you and possibly suck your dick, he adds mentally, just in case Luke can read minds. Luke just nods solemnly.

“Good luck,” he says.

“I’m going to need it,” Ashton tells him, flashing him a quick smile before closing his eyes. He hears Luke sigh, shuffle a little under his thin blanket, and peeks out of one eye to see him stretching. His phone, clutched in his left hand, clatters to the floor.

“Oops,” Luke says, blushing slightly as he twists around to pick it up and inspect it for damage. His shirt rides up a little, just enough for Ashton to see a sliver of smooth, pale skin on his hip. Ashton squeezes his eyes shut again.

God. He is so fucked.

-------

Ashton actually manages to drift off into an uneasy sleep, much to his surprise. When he’s pulled back into consciousness, far too soon for his liking, it’s to the low sound of people talking quietly.

“…number,” someone’s saying.

“I’m not doing that, Michael!” someone else says, voice almost squeaky with indignance.

“Why not?” the first person (Michael, Ashton’s sleepy brain supplies), says.

“Because!” the second person (Luke, Ashton thinks) says.

“What are you, four?” Michael scoffs. “That’s not a valid reason. I’ll give it to him.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Luke says.

“C’mon, Luke, what’ve you got to lose?” Michael says. “You’re never going to see him again.”

“My dignity,” Luke says pointedly. “Not that you’d know what that is.”

“You’re right,” Michael says agreeably, “so I’ll give it to him.”

“No!” Luke squawks, and it’s loud enough that Ashton opens his eyes. Both Michael and Luke, sat upright on their rows of seats, turn to look at him, Luke with a guilty look on his face, Michael unreadable.

“Morning,” Michael says.

“Time’s it?” Ashton mumbles. It’s still dark outside.

“Four,” Michael says, and Ashton groans, letting his eyes fall shut again.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Hey, at least you slept,” Michael says.

“Did you not?” Ashton asks.

“Luke did,” Michael says, nodding at Luke, who smiles bashfully back at him. “And now he’s hungry.”

“I can speak for myself, y’know,” Luke informs Michael, before turning to Ashton. “I am hungry, though.”

“Want to spend your entire life savings on a disappointing sandwich?” Ashton offers. “I’ll join.”

“Sure,” Luke says. “Mikey…?” Michael throws him a meaningful look, and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “I’ll stay here, guard your precious little pillow.”

“Hey,” Luke says, pointing at Michael. “My little pillow helped me sleep.”

“Ashton slept without one,” Michael says.

“I don’t think my neck appreciated it, though,” Ashton says, sitting up and cracking his neck from side to side, making Luke wince.

“D’you want anything?” Luke asks Michael.

“A chocolate brownie, if you find anywhere that sells them,” Michael says. “And for you to-”

“Alright,” Luke says loudly, sounding slightly panicked.

“-fuck off,” Michael finishes, throwing Luke another indecipherable look.

“Chocolate brownie,” Luke repeats. “Got it.” Ashton swings his legs out from under his coat, feeling the sudden loss of heat, and shrugs his coat back over his shoulders.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s see where we can waste our money at three in the morning.”

-------

They scour the entire terminal, but the only place that seems to be open and worth going to is Caffè Nero.

“Yet another overpriced panini,” Ashton mutters, staring at their selection in distaste.

“Not necessarily,” Luke points out. “You could go for an overpriced toastie.”

“Or treat myself to an overpriced salad,” Ashton agrees.

“I’m getting paid soon, so I’m going for a toastie,” Luke says, grabbing a ham and cheese toastie from the fridge.

“I just fucking love tuna,” Ashton says, grabbing another tuna melt. “Is it too early for a coffee? I’ll be wired for the whole flight and crash as soon as I land.”

“Too early for a coffee,” Luke tells him. “Get some chocolate instead.”

“What about a coffee and chocolate?” Ashton probes. Luke shakes his head.

“Chocolate,” he says firmly. Ashton mock-scowls, sighs dramatically, and goes up to order. He gets a hot chocolate, which is hot like coffee but chocolate like Luke told him, and a bag of crisps to wash down his tuna melt.

“Eat in or take away?” the guy taking his order asks. Ashton throws a glance at Luke.

“Take away,” Luke says. “Cheaper.”

“Good point,” Ashton says, turning back to the guy at the till. “Take away.”

“We can find somewhere to sit without Michael,” Luke says. “He hates the smell of tuna.” Ashton tries to ignore the way his stomach flips at the easy we, and the fact that Luke’s willing to sit with Ashton, a total stranger, rather than going back to his friend of a decade.

(He fails miserably.)

Luke gets two chocolate brownies, the fancy hot chocolate that Ashton wanted but his bank account didn’t, a can of coke and a bag of crisps on top of his ham and cheese toastie. They make idle chat while waiting for their food, and then find a little corner of the deserted terminal to sit down and start eating.

“God, I forgot how good a simple toastie can be,” Luke says, eyes fluttering shut in bliss as he takes his first bite. Ashton’s dick’s interest is piqued.

“Who’d’ve known that heating up ham, cheese and bread can make such a difference?” Ashton muses, taking a bite out of his own tuna melt. Not as good as Costa, he thinks, but better than Pret.

“We’ve got a toastie maker at home, but we never use it,” Luke says, and Ashton’s heart sinks. We. Of course Luke’s taken; how the fuck could he not be? He’s possibly a demi-god, that’s how attractive he is – there’s no way someone like that stays single.

“Oh?” Ashton says, trying not to let the disappointment leak into his voice. “Your girlfriend want more adult food than toasties?” Luke looks at him, startled.

“Girlfriend?” he says. Yeah, Ashton’s not exactly subtle when he’s tired.

“Well, I-” Luke cuts him off with a small, shy smile.

“I don’t, uh, really swing that way?” Luke says, as though it’s a question, and Ashton’s stomach uncurls a little.

“Oh,” he says. “Good. I mean. Me either.”

“Oh,” Luke says, smile getting bigger. “And, just for the record, I don’t, um, have a boyfriend, either. Not that I’m- I’m not trying to- like, I live with Michael and Calum, so.” He shrugs, looking away, and Ashton sees a fierce blush creeping up his cheeks. He desperately wants to kiss Luke.

“Wow,” Ashton says, when he remembers to respond. “That can’t be fun.”

“Fucking isn’t,” Luke mumbles around his toastie. He swallows, clears his throat, and then adds: “Well, mostly it’s great. Until they start fucking.” Ashton chokes on his bite of tuna melt, and through his splutters he sees a coquettish look on Luke’s face.

“You don’t have to listen, you know,” Ashton says, when he recovers.

“I don’t,” Luke assures him, finishing off his toastie and starting on his crisps. “I cycle very loudly through a playlist called Worst Songs To Have Sex To.”

“What’s on it?” Ashton asks, curious.

“Oh, you know,” Luke says, grinning. “Cotton Eye Joe, What Does The Fox Say, nursery rhymes, that sort of thing.” Ashton snorts.

“Fucking hell,” he says. “I don’t think I’d be able to have sex through that.”

“Well, either Cal and Mike are into some weird shit, or the walls are thicker on their end than mine,” Luke says. Ashton doesn’t have the heart to point out that that doesn’t make sense.

“You should play the same songs every time,” Ashton suggests. “Pavlov them into getting hard whenever they hear Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Luke bursts out laughing.

“Fuck,” he says, through giggles. “I’m absolutely going to do that.” Ashton grins, a warmth growing in the pit of his stomach at the fact that he’s made Luke laugh like that.

“Or just have really loud sex back,” he says, and Luke’s giggles still.

“Well,” he says awkwardly. “I, like. Don’t really get to do a lot of that.” He’s blushing again, and Ashton cocks his head.

“Really?” he says.

“Really,” Luke says.

“You must have people throwing themselves at you,” Ashton says, and Luke bites his lip, shakes his head. “You’re fucking lying, Luke. Come on, look at you. Not getting laid, I get, no shame, that’s your choice, but not having the opportunity? I’m not buying that.” Luke shakes his head again, almost shy.

“Not really a lot of people’s type,” he says, and it sounds kind of sad. Ashton wants to kiss Luke, hold him in his arms, and also fucking kill whoever’s made Luke think that way.

“You’re kidding,” Ashton says flatly. “Luke, you’re the most-” he cuts himself off, because most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my entire twenty-five years of life is probably coming on a bit too strong. “You’re fucking stunning, Luke. You’re stunning, and you’re funny, and you’re cute. What’s not to like?”

“I don’t know,” Luke mumbles into his hot chocolate. “Maybe it’s because I’m shy. Guys like confident men.”

“Not all guys. I don’t,” Ashton says, without thinking. Luke looks up at him, blue eyes unreadable under his inky eyelashes.

“Yeah?” Luke says, quiet, and definitely shy.

“Yeah,” Ashton says boldly, thinking fuck it, why the fuck not? If this goes badly, he’s never going to see Luke again, is he? You miss a hundred percent of the shots you miss, or whatever that saying is. “Luke, you’re, like. The cutest guy I’ve ever seen. I’d date you in a heartbeat.”

“You would?” Luke asks.

“I would,” Ashton says. A small smile creeps onto Luke’s face.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yeah,” Ashton says, feeling a little awkward now. “So, like. Yeah.” Luke smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Well, we’re both going to be in LA, aren’t we?” he says, sounding nervous. Ashton opens his mouth to respond – yes, that tends to be what happens when two people both get on a flight to LA – before his brain catches up with him, realises what Luke may potentially be hinting at.

But surely not, right? Not with Ashton.

“Are you asking me out?” Ashton asks. Luke looks away.

“Not really,” he says. “I’m- I might be, uh, asking you to ask me out, though.”

God. Ashton’s never met anyone so endearing in his fucking life.

“Let me take you to dinner,” Ashton says, finally, when it’s sunk in enough that Luke, Luke, the six-foot-three deity of pure, unadulterated sex and charm wants Ashton to ask him out. “Well, maybe not dinner, unless it’s in, like, two weeks, when I get paid. Maybe, like, a coffee. Or I could cook you dinner at my flat. I’m a good cook, and I promise I’m not a murderer.” Luke laughs again.

“Dinner at yours sounds good,” he says, grinning.

“Well,” Ashton says, finishing off the last of his hot chocolate. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank fucking God my flight got delayed.”

Luke’s answering smile makes Ashton feel slightly giddy.

-------

When they get back to Michael about an hour later, the sky is starting to brighten, and Michael’s fast asleep, having stolen Luke’s pillow.

“The bastard,” Luke says in a low voice, pointing it out to Ashton as he sets the brownie down carefully next to Michael. “What if I wanted to sleep?”

“Given that our flight’s leaving in, like, two hours, I think you’re a bit fucked on that front,” Ashton says.

“Don’t underestimate me,” Luke says. “I can fall asleep anywhere.”

“Perks of living such an extravagant, jetsetting lifestyle,” Ashton says solemnly, and Luke snorts.

“There have to be some perks in commuting from London to LA,” he says. “I’ll have to sleep on the flight.”

“Ooh, no,” Ashton says, wincing. “You can’t sleep on the flight. You’ll wake up after an hour and a half of unsatisfying sleep with a bad taste in your mouth and a stiff neck.”

“True,” Luke says, “but we’re supposed to have band practice today.”

“You practice out there?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah,” Luke says. “Cal’s already out there – he’s been recording bass for some ska band – so Michael and I are meeting up with him this afternoon for practice.”

“How do you practice without a drummer?” Ashton wants to know.

“GarageBand,” Luke says, and Ashton winces.

“Oh, no,” he says, emphatically. “I can’t be having my beloved instrument reduced to GarageBand.”

“Hey,” Luke says, mock-affronted. “GarageBand comes a lot cheaper than drummers.”

“Cheaper than a can of coke?” Ashton asks, grinning. Luke grins back, and then looks like he’s suddenly been struck by inspiration.

“Hey, wait-” he fumbles around in his bag for a few seconds, and then tosses the can of coke he’d bought earlier at Ashton.

“You’re in the band now,” he says. “I hope you’re good.” Ashton laughs.

“I might only be worth a diet coke,” he tells Luke, pocketing the coke.

“Hey,” another voice says sleepily – Michael. “Where’m I?”

“Airport, Mike,” Luke says patiently.

“Oh,” Michael says, rubbing his eyes. “Where’s Cal?”

“In LA,” Luke says.

“Oh,” Michael says, sounding a little sad.

“That’s where we’re heading,” Luke reassures him.

“Oh,” Michael says, a little happier, dragging himself into a seated position. He rubs his eyes, again, and then blinks at them blearily. “You’re Ashton,” he says to Ashton.

“I am,” Ashton says.

“You’re a drummer,” Michael says.

“I am,” Ashton says.

“You should join our band,” Michael says.

“I have,” Ashton says.

“What?” Michael says. Ashton holds up the can of coke.

“My payment,” he explains. “Meet the new drummer of-”

“5 Seconds of Summer,” Luke supplies.

“-5 Seconds of Summer,” Ashton finishes.

“I don’t even know your last name,” Michael says.

“I don’t know yours either,” Ashton says.

“Clifford,” Michael says.

“Irwin,” Ashton says.

“Like Steve Irwin?” Ashton groans.

“Yes, like Steve Irwin, no, I’m not his son, not at all related, don’t even like animals that much,” he says.

“Are you good?” Michael asks, disregarding Ashton entirely.

“I mean, I’m a session drummer,” Ashton says. “Draw your own conclusions.”

“Great,” Michael says happily. “We have practice this afternoon.”

“I already told him,” Luke says, and turns to Ashton. “Three p.m. I’ll pick you up.” Ashton grins at him, butterflies in his stomach.

“You’re going to have to give him your number, then, Ashton,” Michael says, watching the interaction between the two of them.

“I probably should,” Ashton agrees, holding his hand out for Luke’s phone. Luke passes it to him, and Ashton types in his number, saving himself as Better Drummer Than Garageband.

“Thank fuck,” Michael says, “because he’s been wanting to give it to you all evening. He thinks you’re cute.”

“You’re behind the times, Mikey,” Luke says. “We’re going on a date.”

“I’m cooking him dinner,” Ashton tells Michael.

“What the fuck?” Michael demands. “When was this decided?”

“When you were sleeping,” Luke says. “On my pillow, by the way.”

“It’s so fucking small,” Michael says, chucking it at Luke, before rounding on Ashton. “I can’t believe I missed you asking Luke on a date. I’m never sleeping again.” Ashton’s saved from answering by an announcement cutting through loudly on the speakers.

“May I have your attention for flight BA8227,” a lady says. “This flight is now ready for boarding for rows twenty through thirty-one.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ashton says, shoving his things haphazardly into his backpack. “Where are you guys sat?”

“Uh, row twenty-one,” Luke says, stopping his packing to check his ticket. “You?”

“Thirty-nine,” Ashton says. “But I’m running to the queue as soon as they let me.”

“I’m going to the toilet, Luke,” Michael says. “Save me a space in the queue.”

“Take your fucking bag!” Luke shouts after him, and Michael flips him off as he speedwalks off to the toilets. Luke rolls his eyes, and turns back to Ashton.

“Want a hand carrying Michael’s things?” Ashton offers.

“Would you?” Luke says. “Thanks, Ashton.” Ashton permits himself a private smile at the way his name sounds in Luke’s voice.

They shove everything in their bags as quickly as possible and jog over to the queue, which is already at least fifteen people deep, but is moving, which is something.

“Hey,” Michael says, strolling over to them. “Thanks for bringing my stuff.”

“Bastard,” Luke tells him, and Michael grins.

“You love me,” he says. “You’re not boarding with us, are you, Ashton?” Ashton shakes his head.

“Just providing a bag-carrying service,” he says.

“Luke’ll give you your tip,” Michael says, kicking his bag forward as the queue moves. Luke doesn’t move, though, and neither does Ashton.

“See you in LA, then,” Ashton says to Luke, and Luke grins.

“See you,” he echoes, and Ashton, who’s had approximately three-and-a-half hours sleep, can’t help himself – he leans in, tiptoes slightly, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Luke’s lips.

“See you at practice,” Ashton says, leaning back, and relishing the flush on Luke’s cheeks. He desperately wants to lean in again, kiss Luke for real, but he stops himself. He only met the guy, like, eight hours ago, and he’s already joined his band and invited him over for a dinner date. “Text me.” Luke holds his phone up.

“I will,” he says. “I’ll text you as soon as we land.”

“Good,” Ashton says. “Now go, get on the plane.” Luke nods, throws Ashton one last smile, and steps forward to join Michael, who’s clearly been listening to their conversation.

“See you later, Michael,” Ashton calls, as he walks away.

“Don’t be late for practice!” Michael shouts back, and Ashton grins, and shakes his head.

-------

Half an hour later, Ashton’s finally on the plane. His backpack’s underneath the seat in front of him, his headphones are in, and he’s going to be home in just under twelve hours. And, perhaps even better than all of that, he’s going on a date with the hottest man alive.

As if on cue, his phone interrupts his music with a ding, and Ashton fishes it out of his pocket.

+447568392881 I know I said I’d text as soon as we landed, but I saw this really hot guy boarding the plane and I just had to tell you about him

Ashton grins.

Me Oh?

Luke Yeah, he’s got this curly hair, gorgeous hazel eyes, about six foot, in incredible shape? You can’t miss him.

Me You could see his eyes from the plane? What are you, Hawkeye?

Luke Way to ruin the moment

Me Well, I’m just thinking – curly hair, gorgeous eyes, six foot (definitely a bit of a lowball estimate), in incredible shape – I saw a guy just like that earlier, only he had blue eyes.

Luke You’ll have to point him out to me when we land.

Me I will – I’ll be thinking about him for the whole flight.

It takes a while for the next message to come through, and the plane’s already gearing up to take off when his phone finally dings again.

Luke He’ll be thinking about you too.

#lashton #5sos fic #also a bit of #malum #but background

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nachohypno · 4 years

Text

Pine’s College Jocks 2 Ch. 3 - Nemesis

I woke up at the next morning, still entangled in the arms of a pair of jocks. One was my boyfriend Mike and the other was my friend-slave Gary.

Both were my slaves, actually. And thinking about that wasn’t helping my morning wood.

And as much as I would have liked to get up and take care of it, I couldn’t. “C’mon guys, I want to get up” I said out loud, trying to wake them up.

They both groaned, but moved away from me.

I got up from the bed and tidied my pajamas. No classes today, great. I would just enjoy a good breakfast, play some video games, I could plan out my next moves on the sports club matter (I liked having stuff planed before getting to action)

I checked out my phone as I went to the kitchen. Nothing out of the ordinary.

‘Seems like it’s going to be a nice and relaxing day for the jock master’ I thought.

I was sort of afraid after yesterday, too. I think I gave Leo an awful time together, and I’m sure I would see the consequences sooner or later.

He seemed like a very… explosive guy. The kind of guy you act friendly with at school, because you’re afraid he might ruin your life if you don’t. And you can say I’m actually used to that.

I heard a yawn as I prepared some coffee. A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders “Morning, bro” then kissed my cheek. I turned to him and returned the kiss. Nice way to start the morning.

Mike pulled back from the kiss. “Your guest is still at our bed” He said, with a bit of disgust at the ‘guest’ part. “You had to see me, I was like a ninja getting up without waking him up” He made the mimics of a few ninja movements before laughing at himself.

Coffee was ready. I served a pair of mugs and handed him one. He gave me another kiss and mumbled a “Thanks babe” then sat on the counter.

I gave a good, long sip to my coffee. I liked how it felt, drinking coffee at the morning. It was like I suddenly got a great zap of energy out of nowhere.

We stared at each other for a bit, as we enjoyed our quick breakfast. I was tempted to use my powers to have a bit of fun with sexy Mikey, but he had classes and I had things to do.

Mike had the same idea, apparently. Because he left his mug and walked behind me, grabbing my shoulders again. But, this time he started pressing a bit, like trying to do a massage. “Y’know, I could skip my classes if you want, bro…”

He gave me a little smooch on the cheek “Just say the magic words and I’ll stick around for as long as you want”

Convincing, but not a fan of skipping classes. “Well tried, but you know what I think about not going to classes”

“Yeah bro, gotta do as master Pine says” Gary said, with a bit of a mocking tone. He entered the kitchen, shirtless. I didn’t notice him before, and I could tell Mike didn’t notice him either.

“Thanks, bro” Mike said to him, in a very unfriendly tone “I didn’t realize how our lives work, bro. Even when I’ve been living with my boyfriend for so long now”

I wanted to giggle, felt good to hear that. But I didn’t want to start a fight between the pair. If things get aggressive, I’ll just calm them down myself.

Benefits of being able to control their minds.

And things were just as I expected them to go after Mike said that.

“What?” Gary said, frowning at his ex-teammate “You going aggro on me, bro?”

Mike walked around me and towards Gary while clenching his fists, as the latter did the same thing as he walked towards Mike. Both guys seemed pretty pissed, might as well step now.

“Enough!” I said. Both guys looked at me. Great, I had their attention. “I don’t care about your little feud, but you both have stuff to do. Now,” and putting some power on my voice, I started “Mike, get ready for your classes. Gary, put on a shirt on and let’s get going”

“…Yes, bro” The pair of jocks said, sounding defeated. They headed out of the kitchen and I went back to enjoying my coffee.

I know that this was my free day, but I had to get going with the coach recruitment, otherwise I would get lazy about it.

Geez, being a mind controller turned out to be a bit more stressful than I expected. Just kidding, I love it.

Mike got dressed and came to give me a goodbye kiss before he left. I would probably see him again when I get back from searching for today’s coach.

Gary did as I said too, putting on a green tee from his bag and sitting on the couch. “Where are we going, bro?”

Oh right, I haven’t told him yet about my plan. I thought about it yesterday, but I wasn’t sure and wanted to plan it a bit more.

Unlucky me, I wouldn’t be able to plan it out either.

Someone knocked the door. I was kind of surprised, we barely get visits besides Mike’s friends, Stacy and Aiden. But they wouldn’t come without telling us first.

I went to open and found Leo on the doorway. Today he was wearing a blue jacket, with a black tee underneath, and some light blue jeans.

“Hey man, ready to start the day?” He asked, pretty energized.

I was really confused. What was he doing here? I mean, I get we are the only two mind controllers we know about, but it doesn’t mean we should stick around at all times, right?

“What?” I managed to ask, moving aside so he could enter.

“Sorry, I’m just excited to hang out with another guy like me. Don’t you have any plan besides your football team thing? Enslaving more people? More teams?”

I started to wonder if he had second intentions by asking all that stuff. I guess I’ll have to be careful, just in case.

“Uhm… Yeah, I wanted to save the sports club I go workout by getting a few coach slaves to work there. On my way to get a coach today”

His expression was a mix with confusion and disappointment. “Save a sports club? I mean, you do you but… It’s that really what you’d like to do with your powers?”

“Help others? What’s wrong with that?” Besides, I do get some nice and handsome slaves in exchange, so it’s not like I’m giving away my time… but I do think that the good action comes first.

I managed to get most of my football players who graduated from college last year into the NFL after they trained like beasts and won the championship. I was proud of them, and myself.

But, Leo didn’t seem surprised. Rather like he expected me to just take the guys and empty their brains.

“I mean, don’t judge me wrong. I’m quite impressed you haven’t gone mad with power like I’ve did at my first years. Uh… Do you mind if I stick around to you? I’m interested to see more of your work. If you don’t mind, of course. I wouldn’t like to make you uncomfortable”

He was trying to understand my way of thinking, nice. It was cool coming from him, I’m glad he’s not this evil overlord who would like to end me to be the ‘only mind controller alive’ or something like that. And maybe I could ask him more about himself.

“It’s okay, I won’t mind. And you can even give me some tips!” He could help me a bit, since he was older than me.

“Yeah, don’t worry. We’ll have so much fun together, man!” He offered his hand for a shake, and I shook it.

Gary came out of the bathroom then, dressed in a flannel shirt with a tank top underneath and some jeans. He seemed surprised to see the other mind controller again so soon.

“Uh… what’s going on?” My former classmate asked. I could notice the confusion on his voice.

I turned to him and said “Change of plans. Leo’s coming with us!”.

I still suspected the other guy would be out to get my friend-slaves, but if that turned out to be the case, I wouldn’t hesitate in starting a war of mind controllers.

…That sounded way better on my head, and he was older than me. But I may have tricks up my sleeve!

Gary just nodded and mumbled a “Oh, cool” Before going back to grabbing his stuff.

He probably wanted to avoid being on the same room as Leo, after almost going under yesterday. I should ask him about it later, or via the mind link to talk normally without being afraid of Leo hearing us.

This was a big game changer. I won’t lie, I’m afraid of this whole ordeal. But he didn’t give me reasons to not trust him yet, so I could be friendly with him.

After Gary was ready, the three of us went to the street. I wondered if Leo was living nearby, since he arrived really quickly. He was really excited yesterday, so I don’t think he’ll be off our butts for a while.

“I parked on the building’s parking lot, let me go get my car” Gary told me, before Leo put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“No need! I’ll drive today, guys!” The guy said, as he pulled out his car keys and walked away. We decided to follow him, then Leo entered in a convertible.

A blue, almost new and nice-looking car.

“Woah dude, this is your car?!” Garrett said, surprised. I didn’t know much about cars to be surprised about it, but it seemed pretty expensive.

After yesterday’s chat, I wondered if he bought it or used his mind control powers to get it.

He probably had a reliable source of money by now, though. He told me he got his powers at senior year too, but he seemed almost 30. That’s a lot of time since he got them.

“Impressed? C’mon in and tell me where to go, dudes” Said the older guy. We did as told and got in.

Needless to say, I already had an idea for today’s catch. A swimming coach I’ve heard from my college team.

The guys told me he’s a great coach, but that he refused the faculty’s offer to work with our team. He had “better opportunities” apparently. And well, that’s going to change.

From what I’ve seen on his social media (I feel like a creep after saying that), he was going to be at the public pool today. The plan was to go, tell him about the sports club, then use my powers because there was no way he was going to help me normally.

I liked to think it was for a better cause. The sports club was really a nice ambient, full of friendly people I didn’t want to interact with because of my social anxiety.

And… having a bunch of sexy coach slaves helping me set it back on track would be amazing, honestly.

I told Leo the direction we were going today, and he got to drive. I decided to ask him a bit more about himself on the way to the pool.

“May I ask you something?” a bit too formal, he even chuckled at me.

But, he gave me a nod and said “Go ahead, mate”.

I tried to think the ones that called the most of my curiosity, and asked “I guess we don’t have the same powers, because… what was that thing with your eyes you tried to do yesterday, with Gary?”

He slowed down the car, probably to focus on the conversation. “Uh, you don’t have it? I could show you later, but it’s actually pretty useful. As you may know, people can’t resist our speech mind control. But I can help them go under a relaxed state just by staring straight in their eyes.” He looked at Gary for a bit, who was too concentrated on watching the buildings as we passed by. “Didn’t work on your guy for some reason”

“Do you know why is that?”

He smiled “I was hoping you could answer that. Maybe you have some other power that I don’t?”

I noticed we were about to arrive, so I said “I may be able to show you in a bit”

He laughed “Low blow, man!”

He parked in front of the building.

It seemed like a simple place, for a guy like Chris Wright at least. The guy was known for being kind of a jerk on social media, but he was still pretty hot and that gave him free way to act like a jerk and be very well-known.

Besides, he wasn’t going to remain as a jerk for too long, anyway.

The outside of the building looked like a simple blue wall with some glass doors, and no windows. After we got out of the car, Gary offered me his arm, like some kind of gentleman.

I crossed mine with his, like some kind of couple. Benefits of an open relationship, I didn’t feel bad about being really close to Gary.

Leo whistled behind us. “You two look good together”

I blushed a bit, and Gary smiled. He was clearly enjoying it. Reminded me of the first year with powers. Gary being with me almost every time I enslaved a new guy.

My fellow mind controller caught up with us and we entered together to the building.

A nice reception waited for us inside, as there was a girl near my age –probably older, actually- doing some paperwork on her desk. She was dressed in a bath suit, like she was ready to stop doing her paperwork and just jump to the pool, which seemed to be on the other room.

“Hi!” The girl said, as she noticed the three of us looking around the place. “I haven’t seen you around, new here? Let me prepare some registration forms for you, guys!”

I was about to answer, asking if we needed to pay a fee to enter to the pool or fill up a basic membership formulary.

Leo put a hand in my way and started speaking instead of me, and if he did that again I would bite his hand.

“We’re already members. You’ve seen us a lot of times before” He started, doing his eye fixation thing on her. “You want to tell us where Chris Wright is”

Alright, if that’s how I look when using my verbal mind control, I feel very embarrassed.

I could tell he was using his powers, I felt the commanding tone of his voice, compelling. It didn’t affect me, I just felt it.

Gary shook my shoulders a bit, trying to ease me. He was nervous too.

He was the first one to find out about another mind controller, and feel the power of his words without it even affecting him.

The girl’s eyes glazed over, as she mumbled in a monotone voice “Back at the pool… He arrived an hour ago…”

Since Leo interrupted me first, I decided it would be fair for me to do the same thing. As he was about to speak again, I started to talk over him.

“Thanks so much. Once I snap my fingers, you will wake up feeling amazing, and… are you a student? You seem my age” She nodded slowly, still in a dazed state “Great, you will also find studying really easy. Like, you will get into a really focused state when you want to study, understood?”

She nodded again. I smiled and snapped my fingers in front of her. Emotion returned to her face as she snapped out of the mind control.

I turned to Leo, frowning. “That’s how it’s done, not randomly mind controlling people just because you can”

“That’s so kind of you” He said in a sarcastic tone. “Funny actually, since you want to enslave this guy to complete this plan who won’t really benefit anyone-”

“You can go, if you don’t want to stay. I mean it.” I didn’t want to act like an asshole, but if he was going to stay around only to complain, then I preferred being alone with Gary.

I quickly thought again about what just happened and said “Sorry, I didn’t intend to sound so-“

“It’s… alright! It’s nice to see you’re not a fairytale guy” What the hell? “It’s cool, nice to see someone shutting me up for once. You know, people is always ‘yes master’, ‘I will do what you say’ and stuff like that around me, since I got my powers. You forget about real human reactions when you can bend anyone to your will, man”

He shrugged, then changed the topic “But anyway, let’s move to the pool. I may be able to show you more tricks, if you want”

I had a bottle of special mix at my bag, so this should be easy. Just tell the guy to drink the thing, reprogram him a little once the mind link is settled, then go back home and enjoy the rest of my free day.

We went further inside, passing through the almost empty locker room. I thought it would be good to change into swimming shorts, but Leo had other plans.

He crossed the locker room pretty fast, as Gary and I tried to caught up to him. Was he excited for something?

As we went into the pool area, I noticed it wasn’t as crowded as I expected. The day was somewhat cold, so that could explain it.

I looked around, and saw Leo walking towards our objective. Chris Wright.

The man had tanned skin, and blonde hair. It was somewhat hidden by his swim cap, though. He was only wearing some blue swimming trunks, and had a plastic whistle hanging from a cord around his neck.

His body was pretty athletic. Not as built as coach Peter’s, but that guy was like a bodybuilder. Chris, meanwhile, had broad shoulders and very defined abs. His pectorals were pretty nice too.

He was taller than me, but sort of the same height as Leo.

Speaking of which, was getting closer to the objective!

“Gary, stay here. Alright?” I told him at the entrance of the pool area.

“Yeah, bro!” He said moving aside the door and looking around at the big place. I liked this guy, he’s nice to have around.

But anyway, I started walking towards Chris and Leo, who seemed to be in a conversation already.

“-I’ll make it pretty fast alright? Just stand there and don’t move” Leo said to the swimmer, who seemed to be done with his shit already, but he had to obey.

“What the hell are… you…” Chris started to say, but he quickly nodded and did as he was told.

Chris’ arms dropped to his side when his eyes’ glazed over, and then he froze in place.

“What are you doing? There’s people in here and I just had to give him the drink” I said. This guy was starting to get annoying.

“Relax. Just showing you another trick.” He explained “We already did the eye fixation part you saw yesterday, and now I have a kind of… link, with his mind. It’s not permanent, but he’s my dancing puppet for as long as it lasts”

Wait… his mind links aren’t permanent?

That wouldn’t make much of a difference though, since once the subject is reprogrammed, he would do whatever Leo told them to do, and think it was their own wish to do that.

Honestly, having permanent mind links was cooler. But that’s just my opinion.

“The guy is a dick. Was about to ignore me until I grabbed him by the shoulder” My fellow mind controller said “But anyway, I’ll teach you one of my favorite methods of enslavement, pay attention”

I wanted to stop him, but another part of me was really curious. It was REALLY easy to do, just giving him the bottle and set the mind link with me.

But… if his powers didn’t work on Gary, I kind of assumed it was because of my mind link with him. Leo settled a temporary mind link with this guy already, and I think my powers wouldn’t work until his mind link has faded.

“Alright, go ahead” I answered, and folded my arms.

He clapped his hands, before looking back at the dazed man in front of us. The few other guys at the pool paid no attention to us, surprisingly.

But if anything happened, a quick memory wipe of the last ten minutes would do the trick, right?

I shifted my attention to Leo, as I noticed he started speaking again.

“Now” Leo said to Chris, as he reached out to him and started to feel up the athlete’s body “Feel my hands melting down your personality and pride, turning it into mindless obedience. Just feel your free will turn into putty in my hands as I take hold of you completely…”

The coach just nodded, his blank face staring straight at him.

I was hoping Leo made a backup of his main personality with his temporary mind link, just basic safety stuff.

I looked back at Gary, who was staring at us. He gave me a thumbs up and winked. It made me smile, hah.

The others guys were pretty much ignoring us at this point. There was no way they wouldn’t notice a pair of weirdos, one feeling up a mind controlled well-known swimming coach, and the other just standing beside them like nothing weird was happening.

Chris’ mouth went slack, and a bit of drool started to drip from it.

My anxiety got the best of me, and I asked Leo as he kept massaging the coach’s biceps.

“Did you… Did you make a backup personality of him?”

“Excuse me?” He asked. Fuck, don’t tell me that he didn’t do that.

“A backup personality. Like, push his main self to the back of his mind before toying around with him.”

“Never did that before”

I stared at him, feeling my stomach heavier with each second. I frowned at his careless attitude. “Are you serious? Please tell me you’re joking”

He shook his head, as if not knowing what was I talking about. He also stopped his little induction thingie and took a step back from the guy, looking a bit preoccupied.

“It’s not so bad… I mean,” He looked at the enslaved guy “Hey. Flex for us”

Chris did that, flexing both of his arms. Leo smiled “See? Now Chris, jump back to the pool”

But the swimmer didn’t move at all.

“Chris?” Repeated Leo, before moving his hand in front of his face “Remember who you are?”

The now mindless Chris shook his head, the drip of saliva moving with his head and it was a bit disgusting.

Leo mumbled “Uh oh, I hate when this happens” as I was almost going to freak out.

“Alright, let’s not panic.” I said, grabbing my head with my hands, a bit in despair.

‘The golden rule, the golden rule, the golden rule’ was the only thing I could think about. “You, break your mind link with him as I go get his registration form”

Leo remained silent and nodded, getting in front of the mindless coach as I went towards the pool’s entrance. I assumed he wanted to make up for his mistake and see how I tried to fix it.

“Is everything alright, bro?” Gary asked me as I passed by pretty quickly, and followed me back at the reception.

“Yeah- Kind of- Not at all” I mumbled. I walked up to the receptionist girl from before, and with power on my words I said “Quick, give me Chris Wright’s registration form”

Her eyes glazed over again. I know I just said a few minutes ago that we shouldn’t use our powers to mind control innocent people randomly.

But this was an emergency!

She went to the lower part of the desk and checked a file cabinet. A few seconds later, the registration form was in my hands.

I snapped her out of the trance before going again into the pool area.

I wondered how someone like Leo could be so irresponsible, wasn’t he older than me?! He had way more experience than I had with the mind control powers!

Unless… This was his modus operandi.

He didn’t have a golden rule, like I had. Maybe he just used people like puppets for his fun?

No, that can’t be right.

…I’ll ask him later; it may actually make sense. When things calm down, of course. My anxiety levels were going higher with each second, and I just cared about helping Chris.

I walked up to the pair, with Gary following me this time.

“Done” Leo said “No more mind link with the guy. What are you going to do with that?”

“What do you think? Making up a new personality” I opened the file and said out loud “Okay, can you hear me?” I said to the coach, and he nodded. If I used names, he wouldn’t recognize the commands, I had to return him his identity first.

“Good. Repeat after me: Your name is Christopher Andrew Wright”

“Name is… Christopher Andrew Wright…” He repeated.

“You are a well-known swimmer, who also coaches Seaside College’s swimming team”

“I’m a well-known swimmer… I coach Seaside College’s… swimming team…”

This was working. Perfect.

-----

I remained silent during the whole trip back to my place.

Leo sometimes said stuff, but I think he got the message and stopped trying to chat after a while.

Needless to say, I was angry. Mostly at Leo, of course. I would calm down after a while, probably in a few days we’ll just laugh about this, right?

He broke the golden rule. On his defense, he might not know that it existed at all. I don’t know how he used his powers usually, or if he cared at all about the consequences they may have on mind control victims’ lives.

‘Don’t fuck up anyone’s lives’

I did manage to return the swimmer’s memories and personality back to him. Even the being a dick part. It’s what he was, after all. We toyed a lot with him for today.

I gave him the special mix, after he was up and going, and just gave him my number after that.

I would continue with the ‘reprogramming’ by myself, without any extra charades.

Gary was just sitting on the back seat. Silent, like some child who misbehaved.

Truth is, he’s the only one from the trio who didn’t do anything wrong today.

We got off Leo’s car, as he said “Sorry for today. It wasn’t my intention… but yeah, call me later, man”

His British accent was still a bit funny, to be honest.

I waved a goodbye to Leo as he drove away.

“I think he’s nice, bro. I liked to see you both in action like some kind of dynamic duet” Gary said, as he waved at the guy “Reminds me of you and I”

I chuckled “Let’s not talk about what happened. Please, let’s just not”.

Gary nodded, and walked into the building. We took the stairs up to my place. I decided to leave the topic there, I wasn’t feeling good.

Mike was at the couch, and he smiled when he saw me “Evening, bro. How was work today?” Until he noticed Gary was still with me.

He just gave him a nod but Gary played dumb and looked away. God, they’re childish. I wanted to laugh, but I also wanted to know what was this all about.

“Alright, you two on the couch. We’re having a therapy session hosted by everyone’s favorite master” They looked puzzled “It’s not that difficult, I’m talking about me- But alright, c’mon!”

I grabbed Gary by his arm and we walked together to the couch. I grabbed a chair from the kitchen and placed it in front of the couch, that way I would have a good look at both guys as I helped them overcome this.

Although, I didn’t have the energy nor the mindset to deal with them today.

“Why do you want us to do… couple therapy?” Mike asked, he was as confused as Gary was.

“Because, I can’t just stand here watching my boyfriend and my friend about to beat each other up every time you both are in the same room. So, we’re going to talk about it, right now”

‘And I want to do something right today, just one thing!’

I sat in front of them. “Alright, who wants to start?”

The pair remained silent, and rolled their eyes. They were more similar than I expected, now that I noticed it. In personality, I mean. And their fucking man pride.

“I choose, okay. Mike, why don’t you start with what do you dislike about Gary?” I said. “And remember, I want you both to be completely sincere right now”

My quarterback’s eyes glazed over for a second, before he sighed and looked at me. “It’s because of all the high school stuff, bro. He dedicated himself to make you suffer just for the sake of it and never stopped until after you’ve got your powers.”

He seemed a bit… anxious. “It’s okay that you forgave him, that was your call. But I don’t like people who used to bully my friends, I guess”

I nodded “Well, as nice as that is for our friendship, I don’t think it’s healthy for you to hold grudges after an incident that happened over two years ago”

‘Especially since you weren’t the one who suffered from it, but let’s skip that little detail’ I thought. My anxiety was making me think pretty rough stuff, apparently.

I’ve already forgave both guys, and I was happy with how everything turned out. It was time for them to move on, I guess.

But first, got to hear Gary’s reason.

I looked at my previous bully, waiting for him to speak.

He scratched the back of his head, as he nervously looked to the floor “I… I actually don’t have a problem with you, bro. I thought we were making a fun, romantic rivalry for…” He motioned at me with his hand. “Like, I saw you as my rival, but that’s all. I don’t have anything else to tell”

I blushed, of course. And he continued “But, since that doesn’t seem to be the case… I’m not intending to stand here as I’m being shit talked by some mediocre quarterback” Ouch.

Before things got any more heated up, I spoke up. “Alright. You two are going to make up and forgive each other, understood? You are bros, make out and be friendly to each… other…”

Did I… Did I really say ‘make out’ instead of ‘make up’?

Fuck, I hope they didn’t notice.

Mike and Gary smiled at each other, then slapped hands. “All good, bro?” asked the latter.

My boyfriend nodded “All good, bro”. Everything good so far.

It was nice seeing the pair together, and not wanting to kill each other anymore.

Mike smiled at Gary, who returned the smile, before they leaned in and started making out. I covered my mouth with my hands, a bit embarrassed with my little mistake, but nothing serious at all.

I was glad they weren’t fighting anymore, though. And this little moment was a nice distraction from what happened today.

Sadly, their bromance would have to wait for another visit. Gary had to go back to his college now, or else he would be off the team. He took many risks by skipping some of his football practices and classes.

The rest of my day was just laying around on the couch, staring at my phone. Or being in bed and watching a lot of TV. I honestly didn’t want to do anything. I was just too focused on my thoughts.

I had to ask Leo about that, the golden rule thing. I was scared that he may not have it, and if I made him angry enough, he would go in a rampage against me.

“Hey…” Mike came up to me after a while of watching me mourning myself. “Something’s wrong, what is it?”

I looked at the big guy as he laid in bed beside me, hugging me.

“You promise you won’t get mad?”

“Even if I wanted to, I love you too much to ensure I won’t be mad at you” He smiled, and gave me a smooch on the cheek. “C’mon bro. Spill the beans”

I sighed “We kind of fucked up today.” He raised an eyebrow “Leo came with us and… completely erased the coach I wanted to get for the sports club”

Mike opened his eyes in surprise, but before he could talk, I said “But I did restore him back to normal! Used his registration form as reference and restored his previous personality and memories with the help of that, and some knowledge from his social media”

He remained silent, and pulled me in to cuddle together. “Well… You did fix it. And you’re telling me that Leo is the one who did things wrong, not you”

He kissed me again “C’mon bro, you don’t have to blame yourself, you’re the one who fixed him, not the one who ‘broke’ him. It’s still amazing that you’re trying to help out with your powers. Take the guy as an example about what you shouldn’t do, a’ight?”

Another kiss, I felt kind of better now. He was right, it wasn’t my fault at all. I felt even better after recognizing i’m the one who helped fix the mess he causes.

“Thanks Mike” I mumbled, laying my head on his chest. I loved this guy.

“Anytime, babe. Anytime.”

-----

Chapter 4 is already available in my Patreon! And by pledging you also get access to other stories before they go public!

#PinesCollegeJocks #mind control #hypnosis #gay hypnosis #straight to gay #hypnotized #brainwashing #brainwashed

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reddielibrary · 5 years

Text

The Dream During Halloween

Written by @heknewwellenough

Gift for @reddieforlove

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Word count: 3852

Rating: Teen

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN BRI!!! i hope you enjoy this, and that it’s what you had in mind!!! mwah mwah

Richie doesn’t really believe in God, well, at least not to a certain extent. Okay, scratch that. He believes in something, he’s just not sure if it’s a God or a superior entity or some stupid shit like that.

What he does believe though, at this exact moment, is that angels are real, and he just witnessed the king of the angels. Maybe that means the god of the angels or whatever, but he doesn’t exactly care about the correct terminology because he’s pretty sure this boy is a real life angel.

REO Speedwagon’s I Can’t Fight This Feeling is thrumming lowly through the speakers by the fireplace, and Richie really needs to find Bill to congratulate him on his music taste. I'm keeping you in sight is right, Richie muses indistinctly.

“Rich.” He hears from his left, moving limply as he’s shouldered softly.

“Yeah?” He mutters, keeping his eyes tracked on the boy across the room. He’s sitting by himself on the couch, painted light blue hands gripping a red solo cup weakly, lifting every once in awhile to drink.

Bev shoves him a little harder, and Richie finally tears his eyes away from the angel on the couch. “Come on man, you’re being creepy. Stop staring at that poor kid. And you haven’t even seen his full face; his mask is covering part of it.”

“Yeah, no shit Bev. You’d be surprised with what I can make do with having only half a face,” he says, his brows doing a little dance as he grins down at her. “Also,” he continues, reaching towards her headband, “can you start warning me when you want to talk to me? I’m not used to— this—“ he gestures to the dark hair curling right above her shoulders, making a grab at it, but Bev shoots his hand away from where it’s getting dangerously close to her headband. “I always think you’re someone creeping on me.”

Beverly grabs a black curl resting right above her shoulder, almost absentmindedly, and tugs on it loosely. She’s dressed as Snow White, and had dyed her hair with Richie’s own help two days ago. He’s still not used to it though, and it struck him this morning while doing his own hair how much they look like siblings now.

“I can barely understand you,” she lifts her own solo cup to her mouth, taking a sip of what is presumably something non-alcoholic. “Take that stupid mask off and face me like a woman. Or go talk to the guy on the couch.”

Richie wriggles uncomfortably. God does he want to go talk to the boy with probably the best Halloween costume here. Better than Princess Diana and Prince Charles he’s here with, for sure. But he’s nervous. He only came to terms with this whole I-want-to-kiss-boys-like-a-lot-thing only recently, and even then he hasn’t even come to terms with it super well. The only reason Bev knows is because she’s Bev. His ride or die, his best friend, his platonic life partner, yadda yadda yadda. Same deal with Stan. He knows stuff about them that he’ll take to the grave, and vice versa.

“I like the mask. It’s gives an air of… sexy mystery.” Richie slouches against the wall, turning away from Bev. His eyes make their way to the boy across the room, trying to pretend he’s not staring. He knows he’s not doing an entirely good job, but he thinks he has the right to stare when someone’s costume looks like that on them.

“Not really— definitely not sexy. It’s kind of creepy. I can’t really tell where you’re looking at.” Stan remarks, saddling up next to them. He leans against the wall too, bumping his shoulder against Richie’s. His fancy blue prince pants look funny next to Richie’s black and white pinstripe pants.

“He’s looking over there— at zombie boy.“ Bev nods towards the couch across the room. “Where were you?” She adds, leaning to look over Richie towards Stan.

Richie turns to Beverly, staring down at her sable head, astonished. “Do not just tell me you called him a zombie—”

“Getting water,” Stan says, lifting up the water bottle in his hands to show her, promptly cutting Richie off. Probably to save himself of a stupid argument. “Why don’t you go talk to him, Rich?” He suggests, loud enough to be heard over the music but not enough for the people around them to hear. He reaches over to Richie’s face and lifts his mask to sit on top of his head.

Richie shakes his head vigorously, his mask flopping over and onto his face again. “Fuck no, Fresh Prince of Derry. I’ll just stare at Himeros for now.”

Beverly snickers, but Stan looks at him, probably judging him. Richie sees his brows draw in the middle, and it sounds like he’s smiling when he says, “wouldn’t he be Anteros—?”

The sound of a shriek makes its way to Richie’s ears, and he gets the inkling that it’s probably a little more important than some girl getting teased or tickled or whatever the fuck off in the corner. He’s right, because when he looks over, Anteros is laughing at something Bill Denbrough is saying to him. “Oh my God. Did you guys hear that?”

“No? What?” Stan says, looking around, intrigued. “What is it, Richie?”

“I think I just heard an angel sing.” Richie sighs dreamily, slumping against the wall even further.

“Actually, I think you mean a god sing—“

“Oh, just go talk to the guy!” Bev gestures to the boy on the couch with her drink, some of it sloshing out of the cup and onto the floor, splashing Richie’s chucks lightly.

“And it’s not sing, dingus. It’s laugh. Maybe he shouldn’t go talk to him,” Stan continues, “he’ll embarrass himself.”

“I don’t have to listen to this abuse,” pushing himself off the wall, Richie turns to the royalty behind him. “I’m going to get another drink! Is there anything your highnesses would enjoy from the area of feeding?” He pretends to bow, and snickers when he hears Stan mutter no, thank you, asshat.

Bev does what Richie could only describe as a soft karate chop on each shoulder— the name escapes him— and she giggles also. “I’d like an orange juice.”

“Even though I just suffered some verbal abuse from you not even five minutes ago—“ he calls, walking away, “I will get you your juice of orange. With bubbly water, you freak!” He calls, finishing her sentence before she even begins to start talking.

“Fucking— bubbly water. Fucking disgusting,” he mutters, walking up to the makeshift bar in the kitchen.

“Hey, man.” He nods to Mike Hanlon in the kitchen, smiling. He always liked Mike. And Bill, too, when he had been on the lacrosse team last year. The rest of the team fucking sucked— and so did the sport in general, if he’s being honest. He can’t count how many hallelujahs he said the last day of practice.

Mike tilts his head, squinting at him. He raises his hand in a slow, confused wave.

“Oh,” Richie laughs, pulling his mask up and over his head. “Sorry, man.”

“Oh!” Mike chuckles, walking up next to him. He bades goodbye to the girl next to him, sliding up next to Richie and leaning against the counter. “I thought it was you, Rich. You know— cause of the hair—“ he gestures to the mess of curls on Richie’s head, “— but it looked shorter so I wasn’t sure. Also, your neck is super white.”

“You mean whiter than usual?” Richie cracks, mixing Bev’s monstrosity of a drink.

Mike gasps out a surprised laugh.“Yeah. Okay, whiter than usual.”

Not quite what he was expecting, a similar laugh makes its way out of his throat. “I got a sexy haircut, dude, that’s why you didn’t recognize me in my sexy costume.” He says, still chuckling. He punctuates his sentence with a pop of his hip, grinning over at Mike briefly before turning back to the mouth-sore in front of him.

“Speaking of, I like your costume. That movie’s pretty cool.”

“I know, but do you know how many oh, are you Beetlejuice’s? I’ve gotten tonight? You think the mask would be a dead giveaway. Or that Bill wouldn’t have invited such dumb fucking people to his party.” Richie rolls his eyes, smiling at Mike’s nice rumble of a laugh. “I mean— I knew half the lacrosse team had zero brain cells, but you'd think at least some of the art kids would be smart. This movie only came out a year ago.” He scoffs. He grabs a half-filled Coke bottle in front of him and the Fanta next to it, pouring them into a solo cup, stirring them together with a straw. He lifts the cup to his mouth and takes a sip, turning fully to look at Mike, from feet to the top of his head. “What’re you supposed to be, anyway? Wait— no! Let me guess, let me guess.”

Mike shrugs, gesturing at him with his own solo cup as if to say alright man, go ahead.

Mike has got on a yellow blazer, a red scarf around his neck, and a toque. Richie has literally no idea what he is.

“No-fence man, but what the fuck are you? I’m trying to come up with something funny but I’m coming up short.”

Mike laughs, like he’d been expecting that, and says, “I’m one of the boys from the Rice Krispies box. You know? It’s a group costume, with Bill and Ben.”

Richie nods. He knows Ben; he’s in his Humanities class and was in his SAT prep class last year, and he thinks Friends is funny, but never mind that little drawback, because he’s also probably the nicest fucking person Richie has ever met. He’s been meaning to ask him to hang out or something, but it’s not quite something he’s gotten around to yet, for whatever reason. In short, he’s just cool, and he makes Richie feel good. Same deal with Bill, and Mike. He smiles. “I was wondering what the fuck Bill was. I thought he was the little Nutcracker boy.”

Mike bursts out laughing, slapping Richie on the arm. “I can’t wait to tell him that,” he mutters, small hiccups escaping his lips as he continues to chuckle, “he’ll love that—“

“Hi, Mike. Can I get by?” A soft voice says behind Richie. Both him and Mike turn around concurrently, and Richie chokes on the drink he unluckily lifted to his lips only a moment before, because there he is. The Himeros. Or Anteros. Whatever it is, or was, Richie can’t focus, or remember. He feels as if his brain has melted straight out of his ears and onto the floor, or into his drink, or something. He has no idea. None of it really matters right now, anyway.

Mike says something that Richie tunes out accidentally, and he slides easily out of the way. They start talking, but Richie has no idea what they’re saying. The thoughts in his own head drown out their talk, and the loud talking all around him, and the sound of the opening chords of Witchy Woman starting up, all to a dull murmur as he stares at the back of the boy’s head. He feels like he should be listening to what him and Mike are talking about— to maybe pick up on a few things or something— but he’s too far gone now, his thoughts wrapping around his mind like a telephone cord around a finger.

Richie cannot understand for the life of him why he has never seen this boy around. He’s a fucking senior this year, for Chrissake, and their school isn’t even that big like one of those schools up in Portland or Bangor. About six or seven hundo kids, give or take. And it’s not like he’s an observant person. He typically likes to think of himself as pretty observant, actually, and there’s not a chance in hell this kid would not catch his attention. He hasn’t even had the honor of having this kid’s face grace his shitty vision, but he already knows it’s going to be an appealing face.

“—Richie?”

“Huh?” Richie’s head snaps up from where he was staring at Himeros’ feet toward whoever said his name.

It was Mike, and he’s smiling crookedly, like he’s waiting for Richie to answer. “See you later, Rich?” He says, and Richie figures he’s repeating it by the way he’s smiling and the tone of his voice.

“Oh. Yeah, see ya later, Snap.” He nods, a grin splitting his face as Mike returns it, turning to leave.

And then it’s just him and the angel, he realises a few seconds after Mike’s trodden off to go talk to Ben in the corner of the kitchen. It’s quiet, and it’s funny because everyone around them is talking, and Richie has always hated quiet. He opens his mouth to say something, pretty much anything that comes to his head first, but the boy beats him to it. And it’s perfect for two reasons.

“Hey, Bone Daddy,” the boy says to him softly— like, to him, directly— and he kind of smiles, laughing to himself.

It’s perfect because Richie had absolutely no idea what he was going to say, so pretty much anything could have run out of his mouth, which doesn’t always fly so well depending on who he’s talking to. That greeting knocks the wind out of him though, promptly knocking whatever embarrassing thing Richie could have said out of his mind, too, which he’s entirely grateful for.

It’s also perfect because by the minute he’s being proven right about this boy being an angel.

“Get it? It’s from the movie.” Himeros continues, almost uncertainly. Richie wishes he could see his face— the mask is partially in the way, and he’s ducked over his own drink that he’s making.

“Yeah, I get it,” he says in a rush, voice cracking. He takes a deep breath, continuing, “I’ve seen it like a billion times, so.” He trails off. “It’s my favorite,” he adds after a moment. The word fuck bounces around his head, feeling like he’s embarrassing himself or being especially awkward.

“Mine too.” The boy responds, turning to smile at Richie briefly. “When I chose my costume, I thought it was weird not having a Jack to go with, but Bill told me it looked fine.”

“It does!” Richie blurts, and okay, yeah, he doesn’t exactly have a filter, but there are times when he thinks maybe he should work on that. Like right now. “I mean— it does. Look fine. I mean— I went as Jack without a Sally, and it’s not weird, right? So a Sally without Jack is not weird.” He’s rambling, and the boy is giggling, and most of the anxiety drains from his body because this— laughter, making people laugh— this is easy. Laughing makes him easy. The tension drains from his shoulders, from his brows, the anxiety flooding his body evaporates as he continues, a smile spreading across his face as he says, “your costume is definitely the sexiest one here. Excluding the cheeseburger playing beer pong, of course.”

Richie watches as a flush coats the boy’s blue cheeks, and it’s probably the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. “Of course. Naturally.” He agrees, nodding along with Richie. He’s finished making his drink, and he turns to lean against the counter to face Richie. “And we— well we found each other, so now there’s no lonely Jack and Sally.” The boy says, and he smiles again. He sounds kind of nervous, and it further confirms Richie’s idea that yeah, this boy is his dream boy.

Richie grins down at him, and the brief thought of how short this boy is crosses his mind. He finally takes in the boy’s full appearance now that he’s standing right in front of him, face and all. Everything about him just screams cute to Richie, from the sewn patches all over his pants and shirt, to the black boots he’s wearing. Richie notices that his hair is spray-dyed a vivid red, and it’s done really well. He probably went through at least two bottles, Richie muses. His drawn on stitched smile is curved up even more so than it already is due to the boy’s smile, and it makes Richie smile.

The boy is looking him up and down—checking me out, Richie thinks nervously, Gee-zus— just like Richie was a second ago. The boy can’t see his face— when did I put on my mask again?— and that is both a shame and a blessing.

“Do you— um—” the boy starts nervously, looking down into his cup and then back up again, “do you want to go up to Bill’s room, or something? To talk more? I feel cramped in here.”

Richie nods, and then realizes it might look like he’s saying no because of the mask, so he clarifies verbally with a loud, “yes! Let’s go. Do that. Lead the way, Sally.”

Himeros-Sally laughs, shaking his head, and leads the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs right outside of the kitchen. Richie follows, not seeing Stan or Bev anywhere. He mentally thanks whatever deity out there is throwing him a bone, and climbs the stairs two at a time, lifting his mask as he reaches the top step.

“So,” the boy starts, leaning against the door once it closes. He sounds nervous again, and it drives a lot of the remaining anxiety Richie is feeling out of his chest. “Can I um— can I do something?” He shakes his head, looking down at the floor and frowning at his feet. “Sorry. That came out wrong. Can I try something, I mean.”

“Like— like what? Like smelling Bill’s underwear, or looking for his porn mags? Because I bet they smell like—“

“Shut up,” the boy says, and it’s not very serious, as he makes his way slowly to Richie, who’s standing in the middle of the room, feeling silly all of a sudden. He places his hands on Richie’s shoulders, and does this thing that Richie really likes where he smooths them over the expanse of his shoulder softly. He rises up on his toes and his face suddenly becomes a lot closer to Richie’s. From behind his mask and through the peepholes, his eyes are telling Richie that he can tell him to stop. Richie does not tell him to stop.

And then suddenly there are soft lips on his. Uncertain, but not unstable. Richie’s eyes are open the whole time, and now he definitely feels like a fool.

The boy leans back slightly, and one of his hands comes up to take off his mask. He tosses it onto Bill’s bed, and then makes eye contact with Richie again, and Gee-zus, this boy is the definition of cute. He’s the end-all-be-all of cute boys. Freckles smattering his nose and cheeks. Crinkles next to his eyes from smiling at the moment. Long, pretty lashes. Thick, bushy brows.

“I don’t know your name,” is what he says after a few moments of just staring at Richie, also.

“Richie. It’s Richie.” Richie breathes out, “and yours—“

“It’s Eddie.” He says softly.

“Well, Eddie-Spaghetti. I thought you just wanted to talk?”

The boy— Eddie— frowns for the first time tonight. “That’s not my name,” Eddie argues. His frown is almost as cute as his smile.

“Not anymore. It’s Eddie-Spaghetti. Or if you don’t like that, I can call you Spaghedward. And if you’re not into pasta at all, Eds can work.” Richie rambles, and then Eddie is pressing his lips to Richie’s again.

“I guess I didn’t come up here to talk. You sure did though,” Eddie retorts when he leans back again, and Richie can feel him smiling, and that is something he’s definitely into.

Richie’s eyes are closed this time as he replies with a breathless laugh. “Where have you been all of my life?”

“Here and there,” he responds vaguely. It’s very obviously a joke, and Richie can’t help but laugh again. After he stops chuckling, Eddie answers honestly, telling him that he’s just quiet, and points out that they obviously have had very different schedules.

They end up laying down on Bill’s bed on their sides while Eddie talks, Richie’s mask thrown up by Bill’s pillow next to Eddie’s. Richie realizes Eddie’s probably as much of a talker as Richie is himself as he rambles on about the organization of classes. “I guess the people who organize classes just hate us. You know, since we seem to have never shared a class together. You’re not taking any AP classes, right?”

Richie shakes his head. “No.”

Eddie frowns, “me neither,” he mumbles, biting his lip. “I don’t get why we’re not in any of the same regular classes, then.”

What he says goes in one ear and out the other. Eddie’s bitten lips have captured his full attention, and he wants to kiss them. Bad. So he leans over quickly and does.

Eddie splutters, seemingly caught by surprise, blush coating his blue cheeks again. “I— um— oh. Okay.”

“Sorry,” Richie hastens to say, shaking his head again, glasses getting pushed against his face and his hands under his head feeling uncomfortable. “I didn’t know if—“

“No! It’s fine,” Eddie shakes his head too, soft smile reappearing on his face. “It’s fine,” he repeats, softer this time. “I probably should have asked first, anyway. So I’m sorry.”

Richie scoffs, dramatic. “It’s fine. You’re fine. You did kinda ask, anyway. Besides, I wanted those cute lips on me, anyways,” Richie grins, laughing at Eddie’s bashful smile and the roll of his eyes.

When Eddie doesn’t say anything for a few moments, Richie fears he made it awkward, but then Eddie looks into his eyes and cracks a smile, a laugh escaping his mouth. He starts to laugh even more, and then Richie starts to laugh, and then suddenly they’re laughing together on Bill’s bed in their Nightmare Before Christmas Halloween costumes at nothing. This is the best Richie has felt in a long time. He feels as if he’s known Eddie for years, and not just for two hours.

Eddie wipes away a few tears from his eyes, rolling onto his back and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars Bill has on his ceiling. “I’m glad I met you,” he says softly, in the Eddie-way he does that Richie is grown accustomed to in the past couple of hours.

“Same here, Eds.” Richie whispers back.

Eddie’s hand reaches over and threads through the hand Richie has resting by his face. Still on his side, and staring at Eddie’s face poised up to the ceiling with his eyes closed, Richie can’t help but think for the hundredth time that night yeah, definitely an angel.

#reddie #halloween event 2019 #heknewwellenough

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weirdostoner · 4 years

Text

For the Love of a Monster Ch.2

Apparently I no longer know how to post on Tumblr without fucking it up. Great.

When Bill wakes the next morning, the sun is beginning to bake his room. The sweat that clings to his skin makes him shiver and yearn for a shower. He stretches and slides out of bed, grabbing clothes on the way to his bathroom. While Bill is in the shower, he attempts to shake the feeling he’s forgotten something important. What could be more important than a fucking killer clown?

Once Bill has showered and clothed himself, he heads down stairs. He’d noticed how quiet the house was, but the money and note left on the counter is what lets him know. His parents both left early and neither would be back until later in the evening. I guess it’s easier to avoid your kid when you don’t actually have to talk to them.

Before Bill gets too caught up in his thoughts, the phone rings, and he’s thankful for the distraction.

“H-hello?” he answers after the second ring.

“Fucking finally. I’ve tried calling you like a gazillion times!” Richie’s voice greets him.

“D-don’t be s-so dr-dramatic, R-r-richie.”

“Whatever,” Bill can clearly picture Richie rolling his eyes, “Are you ready fucknut?”

Bill’s sense of urgency returns, and he feels too exposed in the empty house. He’d wanted to eat something before leaving, but his hunger is gone.

“Y-yeah, leaving n-now,” he replies, jamming his feet in his shoes. “B-be there i-in f-fifteen.”

He hangs up without waiting for a response, locking up on his way out. With his parents gone, he has no one to tell where he’ll be. They likely wouldn’t care either way.

OOOOO

Pennywise watches, hidden in the shadows, as Billy leaves the house. It kept an eye on him, all through the night. Watched as It’s Billy tossed and turned in his sleep, dreaming dreams It had left with him. It had been there to hear him on the phone, and knew when Billy began to sense It. How It longed to show Itself, finally have It’s moment with the human. While It grew impatient, It knew the wait was over soon. It would sleep again, but before that, It would have Billy.

OOOOO

When Bill stops his bike at the hideout, six are already there. The sound of arguing is already clear from where he’s standing. He calls down into the entrance, not wanting to startle his friends, and the arguing stops.

Probably Richie and Eddie.

“I-I’m c-coming down, g-guys,” he gives the others time to move out the way, and climbs down.

“Hey Bill,” Mike greets him when he reaches the bottom. His large hand claps Bill on the back once and then is gone.

“H-hey,” he greets back, smiling lightly at his friend. He looks around at the others and sees they’ve all found things to do while waiting on him. One look at Richie and Eddie near the hammock let’s him know he’s right about the arguing.

“I know,” Mike says, drawing back Bill’s attention, “It’s been years but everything still looks the same.” While his thoughts weren’t quite where his friend assumed, Bill agrees.

“You know, didn’t comment on it yesterday ‘cause I was fucking terrified, but this place is a wreck.”

Leave it to Richie to ruin the moment.

“We haven’t been here in a long time,” Bev speaks up, “It’s been, what, three years?”

“Well three years is plenty of time for this place to look like a shithole,” Richie retorts, cue eye roll.

While he’s missed his friends, Bill thinks it’s time to get down to why they came here. He finds an empty, sturdy (ish) bucket and sits down. When he looks back up, ready to speak, he startles to see they’re all looking at him. Even Richie and Eddie have stopped their bickering and are sitting next to each other in the hammock.

“S-so,” his voice comes out weaker than he’d expected, and he clears his throat, begins again.

“S-so, h-has a-anyone seen I-i-i-it?” He holds back for a moment, though isn’t sure why. He’d seen it, however fleeting the encounter. Something in him tells him to wait, and he listens.

“No,” Stan speaks up, and Bill is both surprised and relieved at his answer. Stan is the easiest target among them, and Bill is grateful It so far hasn’t gone after him.

“None of us have,” Ben says, and it surprises Bill for a different reason. “We talked about it, before you got here.”

“Have you?” Bev asks, and Bill knows he could answer honestly. Knows that he could tell them the truth and every person there would be behind him. No matter how scared they were themselves, they’d always have his back. He hesitates for a moment, but it isn’t hard to decide what to tell them.

“N-no,” he replies, but can’t bring himself to meet her eyes. He’s worried she’ll be able to tell he’s lying if he does. There must be a reason It only showed itself to Bill, though. Until he figures out why, he refuses to bring the people he cares about into it.

After he answers, it’s as if a collective breath being held is released. He allows himself a moment of sick guilt, then straightens his shoulders.

“H-how a-about we g-go for a-a sw-swim?” he asks, knowing his friends would all agree, despite Eddie’s usual complaints. Sure enough, they’re already moving toward the exit. As far as distractions go, it’s a win.

When he walks past Mike, getting ready to climb out himself, he notices the way Mike looks at him. Maybe he’d seen Bill hesitate? Bill is a bit worried, but in the end only smiles. The moment breaks when he turns to climb. He hopes that Mike keeps whatever suspicions he might have to himself.

OOOOO

When Bill gets home late that afternoon, the house is empty. He’d expected nothing less, but the quiet of the house is a shock after the warm vibe he’s had all day. Despite feeling weighed down with guilt to start with, he’d enjoyed the time spent with his friends. Now, he flicks on several lights and turns the radio on in an attempt to chase the feeling.

He’s hungry, started to regret skipping out on breakfast two hours before. A familiar tune comes on the radio, and he dances and sings along a bit while he makes a couple sandwiches. He’s halfway through his second one when the lights cut off, radio going silent. The late afternoon sun is no longer enough light to see with, and his eyes take a moment to adjust to the dimness.

He half ponders checking the breaker, but gets a familiar feeling that makes his hair stand on end. He knows nothing tripped the breaker, and he now has a much unwanted visitor. Though he’d been expecting something, the childish giggle still startles him. Out the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of yellow glide past the kitchen doorway.

Why is it always Georgie?

Yet, he knows exactly why. He knows that it’s fruitless, but he will always chase after Georgie. For what he did, he’ll always try to save his baby brother. No matter how in vain.

There’s nothing in the living room when he gets there, but the sound of feet above his head leads him to the stairs. He hesitates there, remembers that this is exactly what It wants. Slowly, he climbs the stairs one at a time. Checking Georgie’s room first reveals that it’s empty. He makes his way over to his room, the door closed even though he knows he left it open. Turning the handle, Bill opens the door.

He’s standing in a corner, farthest away from Bill. The yellow slicker is filthy, a testament to the time the boy’s been gone. Bill holds back a gag when he realizes most of Georgie’s left arm is gone. All that’s left is a mangled, dripping mess. He pauses when he notices that Georgie is crying.

“G-Georgie? Wh-what’s wr-wr-wrong?” he inches closer to the boy, not wanting the other to run again.

“Save me, Billy,” Georgie cries, and the sound of his voice tears Bill’s heart in half.

“H-how, G-Georgie? H-how d-do I s-save you?”

He gets no answer, and before he realizes it, Georgie is around and past him. Straight out the door. Bill turns to follow him, is now crying himself, but the door slams hard in his face.

The sun had continued to set, and when Bill turns around, the room is on its way to complete darkness. He can just see the outline of something tall- huge- making its way toward him. He’s aware that he should be scared, there’s only one thing it could be after all. Right now, he’s only angry.

“Hiya, Billy!” the shrill voice of Pennywise greets him, and the room lightens enough for his human eyes to see. At least It’s considerate? Billy wonders why It wants him to see It, instead of terrorizing him in the dark. It would be easier, he thinks, wouldn’t it?

“W-what d-do y-you want?”

He’s deep in his anger. Mad about everything this creature has ever done to him, his friends- his family. He grits his teeth when It only smiles at him, amused that he’s mad. It moves closer to him, but Bill stands his ground. When It brings It’s hands closer to his face, he flinches, sure that he’s about to lose an eye. Or his life. He’s more than a little confused when, instead of mauling or killing him, It grasps his face gently. He almost wished It had killed him, the tenderness of the touch overwhelming.

“Oh, it’s not about what Pennywise wants, Silly Billy,” here Bill swears It caresses his face, and he’s starting to freak out. “It’s what you want.”

“Wh-what do you me-mean?” Pennywise looks at him, and It smiles the widest smile Bill’s seen on It yet. He must be seeing things, but it almost looks genuine to him.

“Don’t you want Georgie back, Billy boy?” It stares him in the eye, and doesn’t blink once. Bill is drawn into the gaze, caught up in the way Its eyes glow. It’s almost...beautiful. That word snaps him out of the daze. He’s horrified with himself for thinking something like that for a creature that can and has killed. Many, many times over.

“B-but G-Georgie’s d-d-dead,” just saying the words makes Bill feel like his chest will cave in. “Y-y-you ki-killed h-him!”

Pennywise takes a step back from him when he yells, but doesn’t release him. There is still a thin, long-fingered hand cupping his chin in a loose grip. The grip tightens for a second, and Bill thinks It’s going to choke him, but It loosens Its hand once again. Leaning back in, Pennywise brings It’s face close to his.

“What if We said We can bring him back?” Bill doesn’t understand why It’s calling itself ‘we’, but glosses over that when he registers what It was saying.

“B-bring him b-back…,” Bills voice sounds broken even to himself, and he tells himself that this is a trick. There’s no way It could bring his brother back from the dead. A part of him holds out hope, though. If It’s capable of all the other things he’s seen, why not this? He feels sick, but he asks anyway.

“How?”

It laughs at his question, the sound high pitched and far from any laugh he’s heard before.

“That’s a secret, Little One, one too complicated for you to understand." Bill feels miffed, finds himself wanting to know all the secrets this being holds. He’s not sure why he cares, only that he’s curious. His doubt that It can do it is gone, though, somehow he knows that It’s not spouting nonsense. He’s intrigued, and It can tell. It grins, like It can read his mind. Can tell that he’s close to giving in.

“We’ll give you Georgie, and We’ll even promise not to hurt your friends.”

The words sound too good to Billy, he wonders why It would give him all this to begin with. A thrill shoots through his body when he realizes that it’s not going to be for free.

“W-what’s the catch?” he asks, wondering if he can accept whatever the creature throws at him. What would and wouldn’t he do to have his brother back? To ensure that his friends are safe from this monster?

“Why, Billy boy,” It leans in, lips close to his, and Bill thinks that It’ll kiss him. He tries not to think about the mix of dread and anticipation he feels.

“You’ll come float with Us.”

#bill denbrough x pennywise #billwise #bill denbrough #pennywise #pennybill #for the love of a monster #ftloam #fanfic

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

I came across a list of "ridiculous sentence starters" that I decided were actually too ridiculous to use as prompts but there was one that had malum potential: "so I may have accidentally adopted 5 kittens"

absolutely inspired as usual, meghna

read it here on ao3

Michael’s text says NO BIG DEAL BUT CALL ME WHEN YOU CAN!!! X and the kiss is capitalized, so Calum decides it’s at least a little bit of a big deal and calls.

The first call goes to voicemail. Calum likes leaving annoying voicemails for Michael, so when the beep sounds, he says, “Mike, you absolute fucker, why should I call you if you’re just going to send me to voicemail? Do you love me or not? Am I going to have to break up with you? Is this the end? ‘Cause it feels like the end to me, Mike. Also, I’ll be home in about five—”

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Calum says, rolling his eyes and smiling. “You interrupted my cute voicemail I was leaving you.”

“Oh, cool,” Michael says, obviously having heard nothing of what Calum just said. “So, listen, you’re on your way home, right?”

“Yeah, I was saying I’m like five minutes away.”

“Brilliant,” Michael says. “Great. Um, well, before you get here there’s, uh, something that…has happened in the house. There’s a new addition that was not there before. That you should probably know about.”

“Did you buy another monitor? You don’t need more than two, Michael, honestly.”

“No, nope, not a monitor.” Michael mutters something that sounds like I wish and then he’s back on the line. “Look, don’t freak out, okay? There’s a perfectly decent explanation. I swear.”

It’s not that Calum doesn’t trust Michael, he does, but whenever the words “don’t freak out” come into play, there’s a small part of Calum that immediately begins freaking out.

“Okay?” he says hesitantly, slowing to a stop at a red light. “Well, you better tell me quick, because I’m about to turn into the neighborhood, so…”

“So,” Michael says, picking up the thread. He clears his throat. “So I may have accidentally adopted five kittens.”

At which point Calum really has to wonder how this became his life.

He blinks as the light turns green and makes the left into their neighborhood. “I’m really not sure which part of that sentence to start with. Accidentally?”

“Yes,” Michael says. A beat. “As in, I didn’t mean to but I did.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the definition of an accident,” Calum says dryly. “I’d love to know how you accidentally adopted five kittens.”

“Well, you know how I’m kind of really bad at saying no?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Calum says, turning right. “Okay. I’m gonna hang up, process this, and when I get home in two minutes you can explain it to me.”

“Sorry,” Michael says, which somehow does not feel like the right thing for him to be saying. It’s followed by, “Love you,” which is a lot better, and after Calum echoes the sentiment, the call ends.

A minute later, Calum parks the car in the driveway, grabs the groceries from the backseat, and locks the car. He bustles through the front door, calling out for Michael as he does.

“Hi,” Michael says, smiling nervously at Calum like he thinks Calum’s really going to be cross about the kittens thing.

Calum rolls his eyes. “I don’t care about the kittens, babe, I’d just really like an explanation.”

Michael sighs in relief. “Okay. Well. That’s good.”

“Also, can I, like…meet them?” Calum glances around; the living room looks roughly the same. “Where are they?”

Michael nods. “They’re in the guest room for now. I don’t know, it felt like the right place for them?”

Calum sets the bag of groceries down, even though he really needs to get dinner started — hence the trip to the store — and follows Michael to the guest room, which is suspiciously silent.

“I think they’re asleep,” Michael tells him in a low voice, “so don’t be noisy.”

Inside, the kittens are all curled up in the corner of a big cage which Calum knows for a fact is a new purchase, considering they’ve never had any reason to own a cage. Two are white, one is grey, one is black, and one is black and white, and they’re all napping with various limbs tucked into or on top of or underneath each other. Calum has always considered himself a dog person, but at this sight his entire heart melts into liquid gold.

“Oh,” he whispers, slowly kneeling to get a better look. “Oh my God, they’re so cute. They’re so cute.”

“I know,” Michael whispers back. At the sound of speaking, one of the white kittens opens its eyes, casting a sleepy glance at Calum. It doesn’t seem terribly bothered to see him, because after a moment of Calum holding his breath it closes its eyes again and huffs quietly.

Calum is going to die. They’ll put cuteness overload on his cause of death and he’ll be mocked for years to come.

“We shouldn’t wake them,” Michael whispers, and Calum agrees. They back quietly away from the cage and exit the guest room. Michael shuts the door softly behind him.

“So we have five kittens in our custody,” Calum says. “Very adorable kittens, but kittens nonetheless.”

“Yes,” Michael says.

Calum raises his eyebrows. “Care to explain how?”

“Yes,” Michael says again. He bites his lip. “No. Well. Long story short, I am very bad at saying no to things, and the woman at the pet shop was extremely convincing. And also said that I seem like I would be a great cat owner, which I would, Calum!”

“You will be,” Calum says. “You had better be, because you now own five cats.”

Michael grins. “I know! I know that’s fucking insane, but whatever! We’re adults. We can just have cats.”

“I don’t know anything about taking care of cats,” Calum warns him as he makes his way back to the kitchen. “I’ve only ever had dogs.”

“That’s okay, I’ve done lots of reading,” Michael says confidently. “Plus, we get to name them and I know you love to name things so I figured you could help.”

Calum shakes his head bemusedly. “Did you come up with all kinds of ways to sweet-talk me into letting you keep the cats? Why didn’t you think I’d just be okay with it?”

“Because I did it without consulting you first? Because we live together and I’ve just introduced five new living creatures to our environment?”

Calum sighs and pauses in the midst of putting away groceries. He turns to Michael. “Mikey, you’ve wanted a cat for, and this is a rough estimate here, about a hundred million years. This isn’t, like…how I expected it to go, but I’m not mad or anything.” After a moment, he adds, “I mean, you’re not wrong. It would have been better to talk about it first. And also to probably not end up with five rather than one. But.” He shrugs. “Whatever. They’re cats. They’re easy to love and easy to care for.”

Michael beams. The kitchen lights up with his smile. “This went so much better than I anticipated,” he says, grinning ear-to-ear. He throws his arms around Calum and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You’re gonna be a great cat dad. I know you say you’re a dog person but that’s just because you’ve never had a cat before.”

“I was never a dog person at the exclusion of cats,” Calum says in his defense. “What are we gonna name them? Do you have any ideas? How many girls and boys are there? Also could you cut these carrots?”

Michael obligingly does as he’s told. “They’re all boys. And.” He chews his lip. “I wanted to see if you had any ideas first.”

The face Michael’s making indicates that he very much has an idea, and Calum has only known about the kittens for like ten minutes, if that — hardly long enough to come up with any solid name ideas. He gestures. “Nah, I want to hear yours.”

“You sure?”

“It’s just an idea, it’s not set in stone. I want to know.”

“Okay, well, I thought we could name them after the One Direction boys.” Michael grins. “You know. ‘Cause there’s five of them, and…”

Calum laughs harder than he expects to. “Oh my fucking God we are absolutely doing that, yes. That’s incredible. That alone makes it all worth it. Who’s who? Liam and Louis are the white ones, right?”

“That’s what I was thinking!” Michael says, also laughing. “Then I thought the black one would be Harry, the grey one would be Niall — because he was always on the fence, remember, like a grey area? And then Zayn would be black and white.”

“I love it,” Calum says, snickering as he puts the last of the groceries in the fridge. “I fucking love it. It’s fantastic. And so fitting.”

“Thank you,” Michael says. “I was pretty proud of the idea.”

“Well,” Calum declares, grabbing the knife dangerously out of Michael’s grasp and pressing himself against Michael’s side to stand at the cutting board, “we are officially cat fathers, Mike. How does it feel?”

“Feels good, honestly,” Michael says. “I’m really glad you’re not cross.”

Calum gives Michael a smile. He can’t imagine being cross about something like this, not when it’s obviously making Michael the happiest man alive. The joy is radiating off him in waves. Far be it from Calum to stifle that.

“You get the eternal privilege of dealing with the litter box once we get one, though,” he informs Michael, who just nods solemnly, like this was a responsibility he’d expected to take on. Calum grins and kisses his cheek. “You’re going to make a fantastic cat dad, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Michael says. “I’ll be the cool dad, and then you can be the dad who seems like he’s really strict but actually gives them treats when I’m not around.”

Calum just shakes his head, smiling fondly. He lets Michael chatter on about plans for where they’ll sleep and what kinds of toys to get them and which ones he suspects will be the most playful, and every second falls more in love with the idea of a lifetime of pets and shenanigans with Michael.

#michael clifford #calum hood #malum #malum fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #no offense but UGHGHGNFHGJ that fucking trope of urghurughu boyfriend did One Thing without asking and now he's Afraid Of My Reaction #is SO STUPID #and i am done with it #sometimes relationships are actually built on trust you know!! and not everything is going to go according to plan and that cannot be a dea #anyway. not to get political in the tags of a malum fic #'political' she says #writing this was kind of a relief in a way #i just sunk right back into the mindset of bella from june #who was churning out prompt fics left and right #and did not care about the Universe any of them were set in #that bitch would write just to write #and i think that's really what i did with this #it is 1.6k yes but if it wasn't that length i wouldnt be me. so.#anyway this is going in the queue so i suspect it's gonna post the day after the rilex #and like i said in the tags of that one: the link will probably take you to an ao3 draft #unless i'm around when this posts. in which case i will Post The Draft asap #just in general nobody worry about anything okay? cool #q #reveriesofawriter #ask #answered

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skiller0dani · 5 years

Text

S O U R | Chapter 1

Street Racer!Luke AU. ENJOY. Masterlist

WORD/PHRASE FOR THE CHAPTER:

Skinny Love noun | english /when two people love each other, but are too shy to admit it/

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR |

“YOU SURE YOU have everything?” Georgia Henderson worried, her eyebrows creased in concern. Hazel let out a slow sigh as she turned, bag in hand. “Auntie I’ll be fine.” She insisted, pressing a tight smile to her lips. Georgia squeezed Hazel, her hands shaking as tears sprung in her eyes. “Auntie-” Hazel trailed off, she felt bad for leaving Auntie Georgia all alone in this big house but she’s just gotten the offer of a lifetime in New York, and her best friend is letting her stay at his apartment. Georgia smiled and wiped away tears as Luke came back into the living room- having packed the last of Hazel’s bags in his car. He stood awkwardly near the doorway, Luke never knew what to do around crying women. He never knew what to say or how to act- if he should hug them or just leave them alone- there were too many ways he could do something wrong. But with Hazel, he knew exactly what to do- grab his guitar and start strumming notes off the top of his head. Something about him playing calmed her down immensely, but with other women Luke was entirely clueless. He played with the rings adorning his fingers as Hazel bid her Auntie goodbye, admiring how beautiful she looked in her summer dress. When Hazel turned to Luke there was a flush to her cheeks when she noticed his gaze already on her.

“Ready?” Luke asked, quirking an eyebrow and Hazel nodded. She loved her Auntie Georgia, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t ecstatic about moving to New York. Luke opened her door for her, like he always does before heading to the driver side. Hazel had her eyes on Georgia’s house as Luke pulled away- heading for New York which was sitting on the horizon. Luke played with his lip ring, his hand lazily on the steering wheel and the other resting on the open windowsill. The wind picked up and blew Hazel’s hair as she giggled, reaching into Luke’s glove compartment to find a hair tie. “Sad that you have a supply of hair ties in my car.” Luke grumbled, but Hazel laughed. Since she was a little girl Hazel has always wanted to open a photography business- and one of Luke’s friends has offered her a job at his studio, SNAPS. “So tell me about your friend again?” Hazel asked, putting her feet up on the dash, earning a hard look from Luke until she put them back down. “His name is Ashton, he’s cool. Really good at photography- he’ll be able to teach you a lot.” Luke explains, his eyes focused ahead on the road. Hazel admired him- his blue eyes, sharp jawline, slight stubble. It was enough to make her drool and she didn’t miss the way her stomach tightened when he was around her and if she was being perfectly honest, she’s had a crush on Luke for years. Luke glanced over, a teasing smile on his face when he sees her staring at him. Hazel’s cheeks burn at being caught- especially when she sees the smug smile on his face.

Hazel turns her hot face out the window when Luke starts laughing, “thinking about me huh Haze?” Luke teases and Hazel feels like her face is going to burst into flames. She lets out a breath as the city nears, gazing up at all the tall buildings. “Hazel I should tell you-” Luke starts, licking his lips as she turns her previously embarrassed expression to look at him. “Ash has this friend,” he trails off, seeming unsure about whether or not he should tell her what he was going to tell her. “What?” Hazel cocks an eyebrow, feeling aggravated by Luke’s silence- especially when he pulls into a parking space in front of SNAPS. “His name is Calum, and I’ve only known him for a few months but-” Luke turns off the car after yanking the parking break and turning to look at her, “he can be a real ass sometimes. So just don’t take what he says personally.” Luke says, with genuine concern in his eyes as he looks over at Hazel. She nods slowly, feeling her skin prickle with anxiety at the thought of meeting Calum. He certainly seemed to intimidate Luke, which isn’t easy to do. Bursting from the doors of SNAPS is a dimpled man wearing a bright red button down shirt- clearly full of energy. A wide smile splits across Luke’s face as he exits the car and approaches the man. Hazel follows carefully, making sure to stay near Luke but she has a feeling she’ll know it’s Calum when she sees him. “Ash! This is Hazel, your new apprentice.” Luke introduces- turning to face Hazel, who was blushing and feeling more and more out of her element.

This is Ashton! Hazel smiled as Ashton pulled her into a tight hug, a laugh pressing from his mouth. “Pleasure! I’ve seen your photos, you’re really good.” He compliments and Hazel blushes as she mumbles a quiet thank you. “Cal here?” Luke asks- glancing through the large glass doors into the studio. Hazel looks inside the building as well, catching a glimpse of someone with long blonde hair. “Yeah he’s with Mike.” Ashton sighs and Luke rolls his eyes, “I told you I was bringing Hazel today.” Luke grumbles as Ashton turns to the front doors- opening them for Luke and Hazel. She follows Luke through the hallway, behind the check in desk and back towards the studio. “Jesus Luke where the fuck have you been?” A loud voice snaps harshly as they enter the studio. Hazel stays hidden safely behind Luke’s tall figure, reaching forward to grab his hand. “Shut up Cal, I had to go get someone.” He replied, and Calum only scoffed. Hazel peeks out from behind Luke to meet dark eyes and a down turned expression. “Is that her?” The guy with long blonde hair asks- a gentle smile on his face. That can’t be Calum, he looks too friendly and inviting. Looking back towards the tall brooding man with the dark eyes and permanent scowl on his face Hazel knows. “Yeah! Hazel this is Michael, he works here too and that’s Calum. He’s been my friend since we were children.” Ashton introduces.

Michael smiles and waves at Hazel, but Calum doesn’t acknowledge her at all- not even a nod. Hazel swallows nervously, feeling her palm sweat as Calum continues to pick at the guitar he’s holding. Hazel felt nervous in his presence, and squeezed Luke’s hand tighter- trying her best to stay safely hidden behind him. Ashton strolls back to his camera, spinning it off the tripod, “you’ll mostly be helping me with my sessions- at first.” He explains to Hazel and she nods, noticing Calum roll his eyes. Luke smiles before releasing Hazel’s hand and pulling out his buzzing phone, “be right back.” He whispers to her as he steps out of the studio- making Hazel feel exposed without him here to shield her. Michael eyes Hazel causing her to nervously shift her gaze over to him, “sorry I just- you’re exactly how I pictured you.” He says with a smile but his comment makes Hazel feel uneasy. His eyes widen when he realizes how creepy his comment sounds, “no I meant- Luke talks about you a lot.” Michael explains and Hazel nods, cheeks blushing. Luke tells his friends about her? Wait- she is his best friend of course he’d tell his other friends about her. Hazel stands awkwardly by the wall, her fingers picking at the loose threads hanging from her shirt as she waits for Luke to come back. “How did you meet Luke?” Ashton asks, mostly just to make conversation. He hates silence, especially when someone he barely knows is in the room. “Our Mom’s were best friends. I really got to know Luke when my mom got sick...I started spending a lot of time over at his house.” Hazel explained, her stomach clenching at the thought of her mother.

Luke enters the room, his phone no longer in his hand and an annoyed expression covering his features. “Hey, we should probably move you in- before it gets too late.” Luke says with an easy smile spread over his face- but Hazel can tell it’s forced. The boys don’t seem to notice. Hazel nods and follows Luke out the door after bidding the rest of the boys goodbye. They climb back into Luke’s car as he starts the car and revs the engine to life. “What’s wrong?” Hazel asks, crossing her arms and giving Luke a knowing look. Luke lets out a breath as he curls his hand around the steering wheel- glancing over his left shoulder to make sure the road is clear before he takes off. He doesn’t answer he question though, biting at his lip ring nervously. “Luke.” Hazel presses, he’s definitely hiding something from her. Luke has a tell when he’s lying, and not many people know what it is. He’s a very talented liar, and not many people can tell if he’s lying. Hazel is one of the only people that truly knows when Luke is lying. “I just have something to do later okay?” Luke snaps, looking more stressed than he was earlier. Hazel creases her eyebrows in confusion, not knowing where the sudden shift in mood came from. He glances over at her, “sorry. I’ll explain later.” He says as he pulls up to a building. A tall brunette man with sleeve tattoos on both arms stands in front of a Trackhawk, his arms crossed. “Wait here.” Luke instructs before he exits his car- immediately storming over towards the man.

Hazel sees an annoyed expression creased on Luke’s face, and an even more annoyed expression on the other mans face. Who is that? As subtly as she can, Hazel cracks the window to hear what they’re saying, “-off for a reason! Dammit Alex! I can’t race tonight.” Luke snapped, running a hand through his hair. Race? Race what? The other man- Alex has a stern expression on his face as he stares ahead at Luke. “Well that’s really too bad Hemmings, but I already signed you up for the race. Remember it’s between Cherry Creek and Vermont. 10 pm.” He says and Hazel recognizes the names of two streets. Alex turns and heads inside his Jeep and Luke turns and throws open the driver side door before slamming it shut behind him. Hazel doesn’t say anything as Luke continues driving to his apartment, the sun beginning to dip low in the sky. He pulls into a parking garage and shuts the car off. Grabbing all the bags and heading the elevator, the two of them are quiet all the way until the apartment door closes. Luke flicks the lights on, revealing a small and cozy kitchen and living room with a hallway on the left side. “Um who was that guy?” Hazel asks nervously, glancing up at Luke to gauge his reaction. Luke drops her bags on the couch and reaches for a snapback before sliding it backwards on his head. “I work with him.” Luke says and Hazel nods- before she realizes she has no idea what Luke’s job is. He never talks about it, it’s like he avoids the subject all together. Hazel opens her mouth to ask but Luke is already waving his hand, “don’t worry about him. I just have to work tonight, but I’ll be back later.” He smiles before picking up a few bags and leading her back to a door on the right.

Luke kicks open the door to reveal a white and purple set room. The walls are a pastel purple, with all the furniture white. There are two big windows revealing the city- with lacy white curtains pulled shut in front of them, letting some of the light through. The bed sheets are the same shade of purple as the walls, with the pillow cases a soft white. “Did you decorate this room...for me?” Hazel asks, a teasing smile on her face as Luke’s face heats up a little. Luke bites his lip ring as he nervously glances over at her, “do you like it?” He asks nervously and Hazel nods- a wide smile on her face as Luke retreats to the living room to get more bags. The lamp on the nightstand has a purple base and a white lampshade- since when did Luke know how to decorate rooms? “I remembered that one picture you showed me in high school.” He says almost as though he read her mind. Hazel smiles at the memory, they were in the library and Hazel was looking at apartments and saw this bedroom decorated in a pastel purple. It was a beautiful room and she told Luke her bedroom would look just like it when she finally moved out. “I can’t believe you remembered!” Hazel laughs, beginning to unpack her clothes into the white dresser. Luke grins, laying back on her bed with his arm behind his head. “Only did it to avoid you bitching about having an ugly room.” Luke snickers and Hazel turns and throws one of her shoes at him. He dodges it- with a smile on his face as he laughs and Hazel feels her heart melt at the sound. She’d do anything to hear him laugh.

“So, where do you work? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned.” Hazel asks as casually as she can. She reaches for another shirt to hang up as Luke remains silent behind her for a few moments, and the tension in the air is palpable. “I work at a mechanic shop.” He says, his voice slightly strained. Hazel doesn’t say anything else but she knows that’s a lie- she remembers Alex saying race. That has nothing to do with mechanic shops. Luke stays quiet, tossing a baseball up in the air and catching it as he lays on his back on her bed. Hazel smiles to herself, remembering her mom yelling at them for playing catch at 3 in the morning. “Hazel Louise I swear if I hear that baseball hit the floor one more time!” Her and Luke had burst into fits of giggles as they ran and hid under her bed. “She is so mad!” Luke smiled, his shoulder pressed to hers. “Hey Luke?” Hazel asks, turning to look at him. “Do you think we’ll still be friends when we grow up?” Hazel whispers- watching the way Luke’s eyes glimmer at the slivers of light hit them. “Haze, we’re going to be friends forever.” And Hazel wrapped her arm over his shoulder, pulling him close to her as their foreheads pressed together. “Hazel?” Luke asks, his voice bringing her out of the memory. She blinks before continuing to hang up the shirt in her hands. “Sorry, spaced out.” She laughs and Luke chuckles, before laying back on the bed.

Luke was a shoulder to lean on when Hazel’s mom died, he was there when nobody else was. He was the only person who understood her mother the way she did, her mother was an angel sent from heaven and it destroyed Hazel when she died. “Do you remember when I told you that I was going back to Australia with my mom?” Luke asked, a grin sliding onto his face at the memory. Hazel immediately pouts, a blush spreading over her cheeks. “Yeah and I also remembered how you failed to mention that it was a vacation!” Hazel defended- hearing Luke laugh from the bed. Luke sat up, beginning to toss the baseball from one hand to the other. “It was just to visit family, but you called me crying the night before we left.” Luke smirked, and Hazel rolled her eyes. “I thought you were moving back to Australia. Don’t be a jerk.” She snapped, rolling her eyes when Luke’s laugh intensified. Luke’s laughter died down as he grew suspiciously quiet, “would you cry now? If I moved back to Australia.” He asked and Hazel felt a lump grow in her throat as she turned to look at him. Luke looked up at her, his face serious. “No because I would never let you move back, plus you can’t trick me twice Hemmings.” Hazel snaps and Luke slowly cracks a grin, looking triumphant that he got a reaction out of her at all.

“You seriously going to sit there and watch me unpack? You could like help you know.” Hazel teased just as she finished hanging up the last of her shirts. Luke shrugs, “I carried basically all of your bags up. I’ve done my part.” He says simply and Hazel can’t stop the giggles that escape her mouth. Hazel hears a drawer open and then Luke starts giggling. When she turns around her face burns a deep red when she sees Luke holding up her red lingerie set, “who are these for?” He asks, half laughing and half serious. Hazel lunges forward to snatch the offending article of clothing out of his hands, but he simply holds it above his head. “That’s cheating!” Hazel laughs, stomping her foot. Luke laughs, his hand on his stomach, “I’m sorry you’re only 5 foot 1.” He teases, a grin spread over his lips. Hazel climbs up onto her bed and reaches for the lingerie but Luke takes a step away from the bed, and it’s out of her reach again. “Hemmings you really need a girlfriend if you’re starting to go through my underwear drawer.” Hazel says, placing a hand on her hip as a pink tint dusts over his cheeks. Luke tosses the lingerie to Hazel, a defensive look on his face. “How do you know I don’t have a girlfriend already?” He cocks an eyebrow up as he crosses his arms. Hazel feels her heart sink to her feet, what? She bites her lip as she climbs off her bed with the lingerie in hand. Hazel pulls open the drawer, thinking of Luke’s possible girlfriend.

Is she out of this world gorgeous? Is she super curvy, and she must be super nice. Luke would never date a bitch, how did he meet her and why wouldn’t he tell Hazel until right now? Thoughts race through her frantic mind so fast she doesn’t even notice Luke leave the room. Her hands shake as she closes the drawer and her throat feels tight as tears press to the backs of her eyes. This is crazy- she’s about to cry over something that may not even be true. And so what if it is true? Luke is allowed to see whoever he wants to see- Hazel just wishes that for once he’d see her as something other than his best friend. But she doubts that’s ever going to happen. “Haze? Did you hear me?” Luke asks as he pops his head into her room. Hazel’s eyes widen as she quickly blinks the tears away when she turns to look at him. “Get your head out of your ass.” Luke laughs as he leans against the doorway- he has another one of his shirts in his hands. “Sorry,” she mumbles, her entire body freezing when Luke pulls his shirt over his head. “I said I’m going to leave in a few minutes- you gonna be okay here?” He asks and Hazel rolls her eyes, trying her best to keep her gaze off his lean and muscular chest. Luke reaches up to pull the other shirt over his head and Hazel really tries to ignore the heat between her legs as she notices the trail of hair leading down to his- “uh where are you going?” Hazel asks, shaking the dirty thought from her head.

“Uh work, remember my boss earlier?” Luke asked, looking up after he’d put his arms through the sleeves of his black t-shirt. He pulls a flannel over his shirt and smirks when Luke sees her gaze on his chest. Hazel swallows thickly and nods, her mouth feeling dry as her eyes flick up to his. Luke laughs and turns out of her room, feeling his stomach flip. She was definitely looking at him right? He saw that right didn’t he? Hazel was just checking him out- Luke was sure she was. Is it possible that she could see him as more than a best friend? Hazel feels her cheeks flush, Luke just caught her staring at him. “I’m heading out, see you!” Luke calls before the door swings shut behind him- leaving Hazel in the apartment alone. Hazel leans back on her bed, she doesn’t even know when she started feeling this way towards Luke. For as long as she could remember he was her dorky, socially awkward- too tall and lanky best friend, and then one day she noticed his arms looking a little more bulky than usual. She’d noticed his chest beginning to carve in muscle, then he pierced his lip and started wearing snapbacks backwards. Hazel noticed how her heart would race when he smiled at her, or if his hand brushed against hers. She noticed when he stopped quiffing his hair, and just let his fall lazily against his forehead. Hazel noticed the days he would let his facial hair grow out a bit- the stubble lining his jaw and the feeling creeping in her mind of how badly she wants to feel the burn of his stubble between her thighs. It was when Luke stopped being her clumsy, shy best friend and started being this tall, self assured, confident young man that her feelings towards him shifted.

Luke used to be so unsure of himself, and had a lot of moments of insecurity and doubt about himself. What he looked like- what he said, what he wore, everything. Then one day he just decided to stop caring, and the second Luke embraced who he is was the day that Hazel felt her heart falling for him. She watched him grow into himself, and grow into his confidence and honestly there’s nothing sexier than self growth. Hazel groaned, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes- trying to will this feeling out of her heart. The one person she probably can’t have is the one person she can’t stop thinking about. When did she start hanging onto his every word? When did she start remembering all the things that make him laugh? When did she start finding excuses to touch him, or to just be closer to him? When did Hazel start wondering about where he was, or who he was with- because right now that’s all she can think about. What if Luke lied to her so he could sneak out to see some other girl? What if he’s with her right now? Trailing his hands down her body and pressing kisses to her lips, and other places. The thought causes bursts of anger to ripple through her as her fists clench at the thought of Luke sheathing himself hilt deep in some other girl. Hazel has no right to feel this way and she knows how irrational it is, but she can’t help it. She feels like lightning is striking inside her body every time he smiles at her- the emotion causing electricity to vibrate through her veins.

Hazel sits up, not liking the nervous twitch in her hands when she remembers that she has no idea what Luke is doing right now. She fights the urge to grab her phone and text him, not knowing if she’s prepared for the answer he’s going to give her. Hazel can’t decide if not knowing is better or worse. At least she’s living with him now, when he moved out to New York these feelings were amplified by 1000. Luke never got on with his parents, so he moved out the very first chance he got and Hazel honestly believed that if she didn’t live in New York- then Luke definitely would have moved out of state just to get away from his family. He stayed for her and the thought causes heat to engulf her body and an uncomfortable heat to build between her legs. Hazel doubts Luke’s parents even know what he’s up to anymore and she knows for a fact that they don’t know where he lives. Suddenly the front door pushes open and Hazel can hear Luke groan in discomfort. Shooting up from the bed Hazel practically runs to the living room- a strangled gasp escaping her lips and her hands flying to her face when she sees him. “Luke oh my god!” She cried, watching the blood trickle down his face. There are dark bruises scattered over his cheek bones and a gash across his eyebrow and his bottom lip is split open. “What the hell happened?” Hazel choked out- pulling Luke to the bathroom.

Luke hisses as he sits down on the closed toilet- his right arm curled over his abdomen. Hazel lifts his shirt to find his chest and stomach littered in dark purple and blue bruises. “Luke.” Hazel snaps as she starts rummaging through the drawers for a first aid kit. He leans his head back against the wall, “misunderstanding.” Luke says, his voice raspy. Hazel rolls her eyes as she finally locates the first aid kit behind multiple empty condom boxes. Hazel is going to pretend she didn’t see them. “A misunderstanding that lead to you being beaten half to death? Why are you not at the hospital?” Hazel demands, her hands trembling as she begins to clean the cuts on his face. “Drop it Haze, I’ll be fine- I’m always fine.” Luke says softly, his face contorted in pain with every single breath. “Wait. Has this happened before?” Hazel asks, her eyes widening. Who the hell did this to him and why will he not tell her? “You are not a mechanic Luke. Tell me the truth- now.” Hazel snaps, tears building behind her eyes as she places the last bandaid on his forehead. Luke lets out a pained breath as he looks up at her and he knows he can’t keep it from her any longer. He’s honestly proud of himself for not caving after seeing her for a full day- he’s telling her because he has to.

“Hazel, I’m not a mechanic. I’m a street racer.”

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