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mmywanda · 16 days ago

Text

Dandelion — W.M

chapter one of Forbidden Pleasure

—

Pairing: CEO!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you decided to join your family's business, you had no idea the ceo of the rival company would be so.. alluring. men & minors dni!

Warnings: None.. yet ;)

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: My first series! I promise it’s going to get more exciting soon, this was just setting things up.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

—

You'd never been into business. Despite your family being famous for their own very successful company, Nexus. No, you preferred working in that little library, where it was quiet, and the most stressful it got was when someone returned their books too late. Why would you want to be involved in a business full of money hungry people who think of nothing but financial success?

So that was precisely what you told your father when he called you up one Saturday morning, trying to persuade you into following in the footsteps of the majority of your family. And what didn't help your case was the fact you'd be laid off from your job, as there wasn't enough funding in the library to keep all four employees.

"I don't want to be a part of it, dad, I've told you this so many times." You spoke between chews, the crunch of your slightly burnt toast echoing through the call.

"You're twenty two, (Y/N), it's time you step up and join us. You could be valuable to the team."

You rolled your eyes, "And what value would that be?" Both of you knew that you'd passed through college with barely average results, and was lucky to have found a decently paying job that didn't require better grades.

"You're good with people, we need that."

Glancing over at the small stack of bills across you on the kitchen table, you sighed. "I don't want it to change me." What if you turned into an emotionless robot? And had to work behind a desk everyday? And that desk may be on the twenty fourth level of a glass tower building?

"You won't change, I know you."

Doubt swirled around in your mind, eyes scanning the small apartment you lived in. You would have to find a job soon, though it would be difficult given your low qualifications and lack of experience. Here you were, being offered a job that would most likely be well paying.

"Fine. I'll do it."

—

The first matter of business was shopping. Your wardrobe consisted of cardigans, faded jeans, a skirt you refused to ever wear again and a few shirts that looked very outdated compared to the modern city you lived in.

Walking into a clothing store that wasn't your typical go-to was scary. You'd chosen a different one so you could find more professional outfits— because you'd probably be kicked out of the office if you were to walk in wearing your usual attire.

"May I offer you some assistance?" A woman appeared in front of you almost two seconds after you'd stepped through the automatic doors. Her eyes scanned you, as it was obvious this was your first time in that store.

You smiled, shaking your head, "No, it's okay thank you. I'm just browsing." When she left with a nod, you walked to the pants section, looking at the wide selection of styles, material and colours. You didn't even know where to begin. Eventually you decided that darker shades like grey, black or navy would be appropriate. Picking a few out, you folded them over your arm, ready for the dressing room later.

Next was shirts, that just like the pants, had a very large selection, perhaps even more. A sigh left your lips.

Twenty minutes later you'd accumulated clothing items and two pairs of shoes. It was a bit of a struggle to get to the dressing rooms, and once inside a cubicle, you dropped the pile onto the stool. Another sigh left your lips. Is this what business people went through every year? Well, probably every month, based on what you knew of business people. Granted, your only knowledge of business style was from The Office, and it wasn't like that show was renowned for its fashion sense.

Trying on a few outfits, matching different things, you decided on what you would purchase. Making your way to the cashiers, you avoided the gaze of the store assistant.

"That will be three hundred and eleven dollars, fifty cents." The cashier's bright smile almost smoothed over your shock, but not quite. Three hundred and eleven dollars?!

As much as you wanted to apologise and leave to find a store that had cheaper prices, you wouldn't be able to handle the judgemental stare of that woman. So, you got your card out and pressed it against the card reader. When it let out a double beep, indicating it hadn't been approved, you tried again, to which the cashier said, "You have to put your card in. The contactless limit is two hundred."

Your face flushed. If it wasn't obvious that you hadn't spent this much money before, it was now.

That evening, you laid on your couch, staring at the cracks in your ceiling, instant ramen in a bowl, cooling down from its boiling temperature. You thought about what would happen tomorrow, your first day in the office. Well, you knew you wouldn't have a desk job exactly, you'd be more like an assistant to any of the managers or executives— whatever that meant.

Trying to shake your mind of all the worries, you ate your ramen, despite it burning your tongue. At least it was a distraction from the overthinking anyway.

—

You woke up with a start, phone alarm blaring. Your first instinct was to sit up, but an ache in your neck forced you to pause. It seemed you'd fallen asleep on the couch, head having been in an awkward position all night. You thanked the you from yesterday who set the alarm in preparation and had placed the phone beside you.

It didn't take long to put your chosen outfit on, but what did take long was pleasing the perfectionist in you. You stood in front of the mirror for a while, adjusting your hair this way and that, fiddling with the simple silver necklace you were wearing.

"It's no big deal, (Y/N), you're not going to meet anyone important on your first day."

That's what you kept telling yourself during your journey to the office building. It took a train and a four minute walk until you reached your destination. Walking into the lobby, you were struck by how sharp, clean and unnecessarily big it was. Pale marble flooring, bright white walls, even brighter ceiling lights despite it being a sunny day outside. And the very large 'NEXUS' logo on the far wall. Your shoes squeaked against the marble, and you wondered what sort of material the soles were made out of. Perhaps the marble was made to mock people with shoes worth less than a thousand dollars.

"How may I help you?" The receptionist asked as you approached him. You smiled, masking your nerves.

"I'm (Y/N), I'm meant to be starting my job today."

He nodded quickly, suddenly sitting up straighter, you assumed because he believed he would get in trouble if he wasn't the most professional he could be in front of his boss's daughter. You then noticed his name badge that read 'Evan'.

Evan picked up the reception phone, tapping a few numbers before speaking, telling someone that you had arrived. The conversation was short.

"Take the elevator to the ninth floor, first door on the right." He pointed you in the right direction. You gave him your thanks and then found yourself inside the small metal box also known as an elevator. You hated them, though you guessed it would have to become part of your routine now.

Once arriving on the ninth floor, you examined the decor— plain walls with an occasional framed art piece (the kind that looked like a toddler had painted that would sell for millions).

Hearing distant voices coming from various closed doors, you decided dallying wouldn't make the start of shift any easier. You found the first door on the right, knocking lightly until you heard a familiar voice call out— "Come in." So you did.

The office was spacious, a desk in the middle, and seating behind it was your father. He gave you a warm smile, standing up with an outstretched hand. You mentally sighed at his usual strange way of greeting family members. You shook his hand before taking a seat in front of him.

"It's good to see you here, when was the last time you visited?" He prompted, clicking his silver pen against the table.

"A few years ago, the Christmas party."

You remembered it begrudgingly. The night you fell onto a table that happened to be seating several ice filled buckets for the champagne. Let's just say it was an extremely humiliating memory that always made you shiver. The chill of the ice had never quite escaped you.

Your father chuckled, nodding as he recalled the same night. "Ah, yes. How could I forget." You rolled your eyes, refusing to smile until he changed the subject. "Anyway, let's talk business."

He pulled out a new planner journal, handing it to you. Flicking through it, you noticed a lot of dates neatly jotted in. You gave him a questioning look.

"My assistant kindly added important dates and meetings."

Your eyes widened slightly, "I'm going to join meetings?" That was something you hadn't expected.

"As a note taker, for now." His expression showed how keen he was for you to progress in your role and reach a high position in the company on your own. He wasn't going to get you a higher job just because you were his kid.

Scanning the dates written down for the current week, you saw there was a meeting scheduled for today. Anxiety immediately bubbled inside you at the thought of being in such a professional setting with equally professional people, as an inexperienced ex-librarian.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). It's not a huge deal." He hesitated, before correcting himself. "Okay, it is a big deal."

You groaned, leaning back in the chair that you had to admit was very uncomfortable. "What is it about? Stock shares or something?" It was very obvious that you pulled the term out of your very limited knowledge on business that lived in the back of your brain, because your father's eyebrows creased in amusement.

"It's our annual meeting with Maximoff Industries. And let's just say our companies have difficulty clicking."

The name 'Maximoff Industries' was familiar. You knew that they created things in the technology area, and as it so happened, Nexus did too, so it was no wonder they didn't 'click'.

"How do they normally go?" You had to gauge how terrible the experience would be for you. Scenarios ran through your mind, the most rational being; raised tones, interrupted sentences, perhaps even a few cold glares (gasp).

"We have a small partnership in a few products, so the disagreements normally stem from financial shares, and what name is listed first under the annual report. It normally ends in a handshake though." He attempted a smile, but it was clear that he had a very strong distaste for Maximoff Industries. "It doesn't help that their CEO, Wanda Maximoff is a.. difficult person to get along with in terms of business."

"Why?" You asked, wanting to know what to expect in the meeting, even if you were going to be sitting in the corner.

Your father sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She's.." He thought for a long hard moment. "She has this look, like she knows more than you, like she's superior. And she very obviously craves control over every situation without explicitly expressing it. It's infuriating, but hard to explain."

It didn't seem like much to go on; having a certain expression and craving control. Wasn't that a description of half of the earth's population?

Your father checked his watch, "It's going to start in twenty minutes." You internally panicked, because you hadn't expected things to start so soon. He smiled kindly, leaning forward in his chair a bit.

"It's okay, (Y/N), you're not going to be talking." That didn't exactly reassure you, because it meant you would have to maintain a calm act in case anyone looked your way.

"Alright, let's do this." Faking positivity was the first step, right?

—

The meeting room was empty when you and other representatives from Nexus walked in, including your father. They all took their seats, presumably their allocated ones. There was a chair set aside from the very long table, which you guessed was for you. Sliding it backwards a bit, you sat, spending a very awkward minute trying to decide how to position your legs. Should you cross them or not? Before you could come to a decision, you heard people entering the room.

You looked up, counting five very professional looking businesspeople. Thinking that was all, you opened your notebook, until you sensed one last presence. Glancing across the room, a woman entered.

She was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and heels. Hair brunette with lighter streaks, eyes a deep shade of green. But the overriding feature of this woman was her aura. Everyone in the room fell silent, most of the Nexus members seemed to have a polite but forced smile.

"Ms Maximoff, it's good to see you." Your father announced, making a small gesture with his hand to indicate for the woman to sit at the opposite end of the table— although she'd already done so.

"Yes, it's a pleasure, Julian." Wanda Maximoff replied, her tone smooth, with an underlying accent you hadn't heard before. It was very alluring all the same. You noticed she'd addressed your father by his first name.

"How have you been? I heard y—" Your father began, until he was cut off.

"Let's just get to business, shall we?" Wanda's hands rested on top of the table, revealing her many intricate and no doubt expensive silver rings.

"Oh, yes." Julian cleared his throat, gesturing to his coworker, a manager to start the presentation. You tried your best to quickly note down the points the manager was making, including comments from the other company.

But you felt your attention slipping, because from your angle, Wanda Maximoff was just to the left of the presentation screen. You were inexplicably drawn to her, the way she held herself, and not to mention her immense beauty.

You were suddenly startled when the face you were staring at turned, green eyes locking with yours. All oxygen left your lungs, not from panic of being caught staring during a professional meeting, but because Wanda Maximoff was piercing. Though her head tilted back to the presentation. Finally you were able to breathe, fingers gripping the notebook edges.

"So what's the point of decreasing the amount of products manufactured if it's in high demand?" Wanda questioned, leaning back in her seat slightly, directing the question towards your father instead of the manager.

He paused, thinking through his answer before replying. "Retailers are going to be bidding higher prices in order to stock it."

Wanda Maximoff's eyebrows quirked, a slight upturn of her lips now revealing to you what your father had described earlier; The Look. It indeed felt like she was in control, as if she was negotiating a deal with a child.

"Why don't we ask someone else's opinion?" Wanda's eyes snapped to you. Horror rushed through you as everyone followed Wanda's directed stare. All eyes were on you.

You felt your face heat up, having absolutely no idea what to say or do other than look towards your father helplessly. He nodded his head, as if urging me to speak so they could move on quickly.

"Uh—" Words were failing you. Wanda's expression shifted from expectancy to amusement. She was enjoying your embarrassment, it seemed. "I think it could work.. people tend to want to buy things that are exclusive." You didn't have anything to base that opinion on, but you hoped it sounded more certain than it did in your head.

Wanda's stare remained on you for a few agonising seconds before nodding once, accepting your answer. "Let's take ten, my team need to discuss this." Everyone nodded quickly in agreement. The Nexus members waited for the others to leave the room, but they didn't. Your father let out a very quiet but infuriated sigh at Wanda's blank though slightly smug expression . He stood, muttering to everyone to leave with him, including you. You'd never exited a room so quickly.

Once you were a few metres down the corridor, you exhaled, leaning against the wall, the conversation between your company distant to your ears. You were busy calming down from the humiliation. You hadn't felt this way since falling into a table with ice buckets in this very building.

Why had Wanda singled you out? Surely she knew how uncomfortable that would be for someone who was clearly new.

You needed water. Luckily you knew of the staff lounge that had a supply of refreshments.

The 'lounge' was thankfully empty, consisting of several pristine couches and counter with a kettle and an array of coffees and teas. You headed towards the water cooler. Grabbing a small paper cup, you flicked on the switch for the water to start filling the cup slowly. It was when it reached the halfway mark that you were startled by a voice.

"It's an interesting opinion that you have."

You spun around, facing Wanda Maximoff. It was hard to breathe again.

"Do you know a lot about consumer behaviour?" She asked, emerald eyes fixed on yours. The question stunned you for a moment, not entirely understanding. But you'd done enough reading to be able to guess what her words meant.

"Not really, I just notice what people around me seem to buy." Good, you're doing good— you told yourself.

"You don't do the buying?" She asked, head slightly tilted to the side.

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, no. I'm the type to keep something until it's completely incapable of doing its job." For example; your toaster.

Wanda's lips twitched into a smile that almost felt like a smirk. "That's an unfortunate attitude to have when you're working in this industry." You swallowed, throat feeling very dry as you still hadn't had that water yet. Wanda seemed to finally notice the cup in your hand.

"Drink."

The simple word felt like a command, and you found yourself raising your cup without hesitation and taking a gulp of water. It felt like a relief to your dry throat. The woman's smile was now definitely a smirk, though what she was smirking at, you didn't know.

"I haven't seen you around here before. When did you start?" The question was a simple one, but the way Wanda delivered it made it seem a lot more important, like she actually interested.

You were just glad it was an easy one to answer. "Today, actually."

She nodded slowly, "You're Julian's daughter?"

"Yeah, he's wanted me here for a while, and I needed a job." You had to tell yourself to just chill out, because you were starting to overthink your answers, despite there being no need to.

Wanda reached a hand out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, inadvertently directing your attention to her hands. The silver rings shaped her fingers perfectly, the dark red varnish on her nails standing out as they brushed against her hair. You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away.

"Those plants look half dead."

Your eyebrows raised at her very random statement. Since when did plants become a part of the conversation? You went along with it, noticing the few potted plants and vases with flowers that did look very wilted.

"Do you know the name of that one?" Wanda pointed to a specific plant, green leaves and yellow flowers. You knew nothing about plants.

"Tulip?" It was more of a question than an answer. Wanda let out a chuckle at your painfully wrong answer. She shook her head in amusement.

"Dandelion." She stated, suddenly studying you with some type of curiosity and intrigue. "You remind me of a dandelion."

Your expression was quizzical, wondering why a yellow flower could be associated to you in any kind of way. "Why?"

Wanda smiled mysteriously, carefully leaving the question unanswered as she checked her watch. You could tell by the watch strap alone that it was probably worth more than your student debt. "The break is over." And with that, she began walking away, her heels clicking against the floor. You were stunned for a few seconds before snapping out of it. Realising that the cup was still in your hand, you threw it away, walking as quickly as you could back to the meeting room without embarrassing yourself.

Everyone was in the room by the time you'd survived the walk back. You kept your eyes down and sat in your corner (of shame). The conversations started again, and you tried your best, yet again, to make notes. It was a bit easier to concentrate as Wanda hadn't done any talking yet.

It was boring, really, listening to your father and Maximoff Industries' representatives disagree on very simple things like the font for whatever the damn products they wanted to sell.

Finally, Wanda spoke up after listening to the conversation she appeared to have found just as boring as you had. "Let's do it. Less products for higher sales, as ridiculous as it sounds. Though, something would have to be put in place.”

You glanced up from your notebook, pen hovering above the page. Even Wanda’s own coworkers seemed confused.

“I will have regular meetings with a representative from Nexus, just so I can keep up to date with your side of this new decision.”

You could practically see the cogs in your father’s brain whirring, as he probably didn’t know now if this new idea would be a mistake. He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll look at my schedu—“

“It will be (Y/N).” Wanda stated clearly. Once again, you found all attention on you. You were just as bewildered as the other surprised faces.

“Me?” You uttered, cheeks flushed at the idea of Wanda Maximoff wanting to meet you again.

A smile twitched on your lips as she studied you from across the room. You felt the presences around you fade away when your eyes locked with green ones. She spoke in a slow but deliberate way, “You will accept, won’t you?”

Without thinking twice, you simply replied, “Yes.”

—

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 5 months ago

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Go Home - Charles Leclerc

What. A. Fucking. Day.

You were running around the Ferrari hospitality, with practically no energy after being up all night. The fact that you had even made it into work was an absolute miracle, but you thought that doing something with yourself might help you take your mind off of how you were feeling.

It was safe to say that it didn't. If anything, it just made it worse. Your body felt more fatigued the more you moved, and plenty of people had noticed. They all asked if you were feeling OK, and you always responded with a meek 'yeah, yeah, just feeling a little under the weather.'

One of the many people to notice this was Charles. He had seen that you weren't your usual, perky self, and that concerned him slightly. After seeing you around for a few hours, not getting noticeably better, Charles took it upon himself to approach you.

You had just walked out of Fred's office after delivering some papers, and he was stood in the corridor, seemingly waiting to go in. "Hey Charles," you greeted, sending him a small yet weak smile. You didn't want him to be the next person to ask how you were feeling, but you could sense it coming anyway.

"Hey, you OK? You're not looking too good..." he sheepishly said, not wanting to upset you, but still wanting to show that he cared about your current condition.

"Oh thanks, Charles," you rolled your eyes, walking away from him. Instantly, you felt bad that you had reacted like that, knowing he was just trying to be nice and knowing that your attitude was uncalled for.

But, you really weren't feeling like making kind smalltalk with someone. You weren't in any mood to turn around and apologise either, so you just figured you would say sorry to him when you were feeling better.

Shortly after, you heard footsteps behind you in the corridor. Charles knew you didn't mean it and it was just because you were feeling shitty, so he didn't take it to heart. If anything, it made him even more worried for you and whether you should actually be at work or not.

"Y/N, hey, no, wait," he called after you, speeding up so he could catch up to you. "You really don't look too good, are you sure you don't need anything? I've got some extra time if you want some help with some stuff." he said, hoping that you'd allow him to take some of the load off of you so that you could relax for a bit.

"No, no," you declined, thinking that he had something better to be doing with his time. He was just as busy as you were, if not more. Plus, you didn't want to give him whatever it was you had just in case it would hinder his racing ability.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind, it'd be-" he started, but you cut him off with a sigh.

"Charles, I've got it, OK? I do appreciate the offer, really, but you're just as busy as I am." you interjected, turning around and walking off from him again. Charles huffed to himself, unsure of what to do.

He was certain that you running around and working yourself to the bone wasn't what was going to help your illness, but he also knew that you were stubborn as a mule and it'd take a hell of a lot of convincing to get you to change your mind.

For the time being, he resigned himself to the fact that you were going to carry on working. He'd keep an eye on you for the rest of the day, and if you got any worse, he would simply have to force you to go home.

An hour or so later, Charles spotted you in the cafeteria, pushing your food around your plate with your fork. His heart dropped slightly as he saw your face. You had paled in colour, your nose and cheeks contrasting against your skin as they were as red as your polo that you had on.

He leant against the wall with his arms crossed for a short while, his eyes glued on you. Your shoulders were hunched, one of your arms wrapped around your stomach. He spotted the subconscious, self-soothing gesture, and his hard expression softened.

You really didn't look good, not at all. Definitely not good enough to be staying at work and slaving away for the rest of the day. Slowly, Charles stepped towards your table, the other people around knowing that it'd take a miracle to convince you to chill it out.

"Hey, can I sit?" he quietly said, gesturing to one of the chairs at your otherwise empty table. You craned your neck to look up at him, leaning back and taking your arm away from your stomach.

"Yeah, course," you nodded, watching as he pulled out the chair next to you and sat down on it. With one elbow on the table, Charles rested his chin on his hand.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, the question obviously leading. It was with an expectant answer, an answer consisting of you telling him how horrendous you felt and how you needed to go home.

However, you replied with a simple, "I'm fine." Charles groaned, running a hand through his chocolate locks.

"You're not fine, OK? Look at you, you look dead on your feet," he said, frustration seeping through his words. He never understood why you were always so stubborn, especially when it came to your own wellbeing.

Going home was clearly the best option for you and your health, but you refused to just give up your pride and perfect work-attendance record and go home. "I'm just feeling a bit rough, it's nothing serious," you tried to reassure him, knowing he wasn't going to back down on the matter easily.

"Nothing serious? You're pale as a ghost, you clearly have 0 energy, and it is just obvious that you feel absolutely awful!" he snapped, unable to keep his temper in check. He wasn't snapping out of anger, and you knew that.

He was snapping out of pure consideration for you and comfort. Deep down, he knew that you were hurting and in no condition to be there, but that didn't stop his temperament from clocking out for a moment.

He saw the dejected look on your face, the softness creeping back into his features. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say. Getting mad at you wouldn't make you listen to him, he knew that, but he still wanted to try and convince you.

"Please, just go back to the hotel. I'm worried about you, you know?" Charles said, hoping that by revealing his feelings, it might incline you to listen to him. "I'll make sure all of your work is done, I promise. You won't have to worry about a thing."

"But I've got so much to do, and I don't want to force someone else to work that I can-"

"No, don't tell me you can do it. You can't do it. And I won't let you," Charles cut you off, squeezing your hand. "I'll take you back, make sure you're comfy, and I will have it all taken care of." he repeated.

For once, you were actually considering doing what he said. Your body was crying out for you just to retire to your bed for the remainder of the day and just rest. Sleep off the sickness and come back to work your usual self.

There was the problem of your work, but you truly did trust that Charles would have it taken care of. He wasn't the kind of guy to make promises that he couldn't keep, and he would make sure your work got done on time and as it was supposed to be done.

He took your silence as a yes, since you'd usually give him attitude if you were refusing his requests. He hated seeing you like this: tired, sick and downright dejected. A small part of him was screaming at him to just wrap you up in his arms and take care of you until you were back to your usual self.

In some ways, you being like this hurt him too. He didn't like it when you pushed yourself this far and risked your own health and wellbeing just for the sake of a job. Yes, he did admire it, but his dislike for it heavily out-weighed his recognition of the trait.

"When was the last time you ate something? And don't bother lying to me," he sternly asked, and you knew it wasn't time to try and fool him with a clearly false answer.

"Yesterday. Well, more specifically, last night." you quietly told him, his eyes searching your face for any hint of deception. Yet, he found nothing but sincerity, and the pointed look in his eyes mellowed out once again.

"And what did you have?"

"Just some soup and crackers from room service," you told him, and the sigh he let out was audible and slightly disappointed.

"Jesus Christ... you're running on fumes," he mumbled, "How much did you sleep last night?" Charles asked, even though he could tell it wasn't much from your sluggish posture and dark under eye circles.

"I can't tell you how much exactly but it wasn't much at all," you told him, now actually looking forward to going to bed for the rest of the day.

"Come on, we're going. I will sort everything," he reassured, standing from his seat and offering a hand out to you. You took his hand, letting him help you up. Charles felt a small pang of satisfaction ripple through him when you allowed him to assist you.

Silently, he led you out of the paddock and to the parking lot, where he navigated you over to his car and sat you down in it. You were slightly worried about getting fired for just randomly leaving, but if Charles asked Fred, pretty much anything was possible.

The car ride was wordless while he manoeuvred through the streets, until he pulled up in a spare parking space near the hotel. Charles helped you out of the car and all the way up to your room.

Now that he was close up to you, he saw how gaunt your expression was. He really didn't want to just leave you here to fend for yourself, since he didn't think you had the strength or energy to do so properly.

"Can I come in with you?" he asked once you had reached the door to your room. You nodded, unlocking the door and gesturing him inside. To say that you had been in such a state, the room was in fairly good order.

You hadn't made the bed, which was understandable given how bad your morning must have been, but the rest of the room was relatively clean. "You sit, I'll get you something to change into," he told you, walking up to the wardrobe.

Opening it, it was mostly just your teamwear since you were only there for work and wouldn't have the time for much tourism. Rifling through your clothes, he found a soft pair of shorts and one of your Ferrari hoodies that he thought looked comfy enough.

Turning around, he saw you already shuffled under the covers and sinking into the pillows. "You comfy?" he smiled, the sight of you lead there making his heart beat a little quicker. He really didn't want to leave you here - he wanted to stay by your side where he could make sure you were OK.

"Arms up," he softly said, helping you to sit up. "Can I?" he requested, asking for your permission as his hands hovered over the buttons of your polo. You nodded, and he quickly unbuttoned them and pulled the shirt off over your head.

If he wasn't focused on how sick you were, he would be practically salivating at how stunning you were, but now wasn't the time for that, and he understood. You were vulnerable, and he would be pretty damn pissed with himself if he allowed himself to think like that.

Pulling the hoodie on over your body, he reached a hand around your neck to pull your ponytail out. "I'll let you do those yourself," he gently chuckled, placing the shorts next to you and facing away from you around to give you some privacy.

Charles heard the sound of a zipper and the rustling of fabric, finally followed by the sound of you shimmying back under the covers. "Do you need anything else?" he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to you.

"No, no, I should be good," you told him, and Charles wasn't buying it for a second. It was at that point where the part of him that was compelling him to stay by your side and take care of you, protect you, love you won out.

"You do realise that I'm not going anywhere?"

"Charles, no, you're busy and-"

"Sweetheart, no. You need me, they'll be able to do it, I'm sure," he told you, and when you didn't argue back, he really grew concerned. Even when you were sick, you were normally able to bite back and give him some sass back.

The fact that you had just accepted your fate worried him, even if he was relieved that he wouldn't have to try and convince you again. "I'll get you a water and some medicine, and then I'll sit here for the rest of the day or until you get better. Whichever happens first," he told you.

Charles didn't miss the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips, and he was glad that he could bring a bit of brightness to your day. Disappearing into the bathroom, he filled up a glass with water and rummaged around in the cabinets for some paracetamol.

"Now you're going to take these, and then you're going to sit back and rest and let me dote on you." he said with a slightly teasing tone, handing you the two small, white pills and watched as you popped them into your mouth before lifting the glass of water to your lips and encouraging you to take a sip.

Once you had drank around half of the glass, Charles left it on the bedside table. "I want you to try and get some sleep, OK?" he said.

"Yeah, sure," you agreed, snuggling down into the covers. He hated having you just lie there when he felt that you needed his physical support as well as his emotional support. Just getting to hold you would surely make you feel better, and him too.

"Hey sweetheart?"

"Yeah? You OK?" you asked, and he couldn't help but grin. Even when you were feeling horrendous, you were still making sure he was OK.

"I'm fine, yeah. Can I just... can I hold you? Or hug you? Or anything? I just feel so useless," he mumbled, instantly feeling like an idiot. But, before he could get ahead of himself, you responded.

"Be my guest," you told him. Charles moved under the covers and then next to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, gently tugging you towards him to that you could rest your head on his chest.

You could hear the steady pound of his heartbeat, and it was a very soothing sound. Charles let out a sigh of contentment, glad that he was able to provide some semblance of comfort. He felt your weight against him as you relaxed, meaning he was doing his job right.

Despite you feeling no where near 100%, he was glad that he could be the person who you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with and the person that would take care of you. You trusted him, and that was more than enough.

Plus, he'd be happy with cuddles anyday, whether you were sick or not.

A/N - Hey loves! Hoping you're all doing well! I do have a little thing for the 5 year anniversary of Charles' 2019 Monza win, but it is nothing special. It is just a lil ol' something that I whipped up. Not really a story, but hey. It'll do. Have a wonderful day/night!💖

|masterlist|

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touchtheinvisiblestars · 8 months ago

Text

Imagine Benny when you come to him for help

"Ben?" You call out, rapping your knuckles on the door frame. You held your other arm flush to your chest, trying to ignore the searing pain coming from your shoulder.

Knocking on the door again. You didn't know if he was home or out with the guys. You just knew where his house was and that you needed help.

"Hang on a damn minute!" He yelled from inside. Clearly irritated at the disturbance at such a late hour. You breathed a sigh of relief that he was home.

"Benny please let me in." You called, glancing out into the night behind you.

"Y/N?" His heavy footsteps picked up in speed and he yanked open the door.

Practically barging past him, you stumble into the entrance way of the house.

"I'm so sorry Ben. I didn't have anywhere else to go?"

"How about a hospital? What the fuck happened to you." He looked you over, taking note of the cuts on your face and the way you held your arm.

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough. Why did you come here? Frankies' is closest to you."

"You told me I could come here if I needed to. For safety."

"Yeah but that was about- oh. Wait he did this to you?" The realisation dawned on him and he felt a wave of anger roll over him.

"I'm sorry. I just needed to get away from him, and he doesn't know where you live. Among other reasons. I would have gone to Frankie but Sam's not even a month old yet, and you don't have a baby."

"He's looking for you? To what? Have another go at beating you senseless."

"His exact words were a little more colourful and descriptive."

"Right... You need to sit down so I can clean you up. And then start over and tell me exactly what happened."

You took a seat on the very comfortable sofa. Perching yourself on the edge of the cushion. Not wanting to stain them with any dirt or blood.

Benny came back with his well stocked first aid kit. Constantly in use from his training and fighting injuries.

"Start from the top. I'm all ears." Benny prompted you as he took a seat on the footstool and started taking out some antiseptic wipes.

"There really isn't all that much to explain. I came home from work. Showered and the next thing I know he's on me like I've just told him I fucked someone in our bed. Which I hadn't by the way. Apparently some of his buddies saw me at your fight yesterday. Made up something about it and played into his jealousy about it. Nothing I could say way going to make it better."

"Fuckin' knew it. I told Will this would happen. Tell me you're not going back to him."

"Do I look brain damaged Ben? I'm not the girl that going to 'fix' him. The second he put his hands on me I was done. There's no going back from this."

A comfortable silence followed, only cut by the occasional sharp intake of breath from you as Benny cleaned you up.

"Good. 'Kay, I've cleaned up that busted eyebrow and your lip. You're lucky you don't need stitches for your hand. Can you move your shoulder or are taking a trip to the ER?"

"Ben I can't afford it. But it fuckin' hurts. I can move my wrist?" You offered, hoping it was helpful information.

Letting out a sigh, he placed down the cloth he had, "Ive fixed a fair few dislocated shoulders but if it's broken were going to have to. Can I see?"

You nodded, shifting to face him side on. He moved your hoodie to the side and his fingers prodded along you collarbone. Whimpering as he got to a particularly sore spot.

"What's the verdict nurse Miller?" You teased.

"I don't think it's broken, how this that happen exactly."

"He uh, kicked it."

Ben let out a puff of air, signaling his disgust, but continued feeling along your shoulder, "yep that's dislocated. I can put it back but I need to do it properly and quickly."

You nodded, Benny moved so he was sat behind you. Wrapping an arm around yours, he took hold of your upper arm. "Okay, what do I need to do, can you give me-"

With a sickening pop, he jolted your shoulder back into place. Letting out a horror movie worthy scream. You lurched away from him and blinked at him in shock.

"I'm sorry. It's best to just do it, warning makes it worse."

"Holy shit, that fucking hurt." You puffed out breaths of air trying to slow your heart. "But thank you."

"Try not to move it too much."

"Okay. Ben I'm sorry for just turning up here."

"None of that thank you very much. I'm just flattered you felt safe enough to come to me. I meant what I said."

"Of course I feel safe with you. You've always looked after me like I'm yours."

There was a tense silence for a moment after that as you both started at each other. Ben cleared his throat and shifted himself off the sofa.

"I'm going to grab you some painkillers. I bet you're starting to ache now."

He was right, you felt like you'd been put through a hydraulic press six different ways. Returning with a glass and a hand outstretched with a few pills in it. You gratefully took them. Downing the pills and the water easily.

"If you just drugged me I'm going to be so mad."

He let out a chuckle, "come on. If I was like that I wouldn't have wasted a good first aid kit on you. That shits expensive."

"The way you go through them yeah I bet they are." You both chuckled at the thought.

"Okay I sho-" You started to say but we're cut off by the sound a car pulling up and the engine turning off.

You heard a car door close outside. Making you freeze.

"Go upstairs now. Don't come back down until I say it's clear." Benny whisper shouted. He quickly tidied up the first aid kit and shoved it under a blanket on the sofa.

"Now!" He urged you when you didn't move.

Jumping into action you, ran upstairs, hovering on the landing.

Four sharp thumps to the front door had your blood running cold. How the fuck had he found you here?

"Will? What the hell do you want this late?"

"Is Y/N here?"

"Why?"

"I'll take that as a yes then."

"It's okay Y/N it's just Will." Benny called up to you.

Tentatively you came back downstairs. Seeing the two brothers stood side by side.

When Will locked eyes on you, he strode over and pulled you into a hug. He had always been the less affectionate of the two. So it surprised you as he rubbed your back.

"Thank god you're okay. He's been down the bar bragging about what he did to you."

"What? She's lucky she didn't have to go to the hospital." Benny seethed, "man I really want to go down there."

"Bet he missed out some bits. He was cradling his balls as I ran off."

The two of them snorted in unison, "you better have."

"Of course I did. He wouldn't have stopped. Fucker was trying to kill me."

"Well he's never gonna get the chance to again." Benny affirmed, gritting his teeth.

#benny miller x reader #benny miller imagine #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #Garrett hedlund imagine

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estellan0vella · 8 months ago

Text

Doodles Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU

You return to the tattoo parlour, balancing a tray of coffee cups and a bag of pastries. The aroma of fresh coffee mingles with the scent of antiseptic and ink, a peculiar but comforting mix that you've grown to love. You push open the door with your hip and are greeted by the familiar sight of Gojo lounging on the couch, Geto perched on the edge, and Toji leaning against the counter. They glance up as you enter, offering a mix of smirks and lazy waves.

"Coffee's here," you announce, setting the tray down on the table.

"Finally," Gojo drawls, reaching for his cup. "I was starting to think you'd run off and left us to fend for ourselves."

"I wish," you retort, handing out the drinks. "Where's Sukuna?"

"Office," Geto replies, taking his cup with a grateful nod.

"Sleeping Beauty needed his nap," Toji adds with a chuckle.

You smile, picturing Sukuna sprawled out on the couch in his office, one arm draped over his eyes. "I'll go check on him."

Balancing the last cup of coffee, you head towards Sukuna's office. The door is slightly ajar, and as you approach, you hear the faint sound of giggling. You push the door open wider and freeze.

Yuji and Megumi are perched on either side of Sukuna, markers in hand, drawing elaborate patterns on his face. Yuji has a red marker and is carefully colouring a heart on Sukuna's cheek, while Megumi, armed with a blue marker, adds swirls and stars to his forehead. Sukuna, deeply asleep, is blissfully unaware of the artistic masterpiece being created on his face.

Your mind races. Should you wake him up? Stop the kids? Scream? Laugh? You have no idea what to do. Instead, you stand there, mouth slightly open, until Yuji notices you.

"Y/N/N!" he whispers loudly, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look what we did!"

"I see that," you say, voice hushed but incredulous. "Where did you get the markers?"

"Gojo let us use them," Megumi whispers, as if that explains everything.

You glance back at the trio in the other room. Gojo, Geto, and Toji are watching with poorly concealed amusement. None of them made any attempt to stop the kids. You shake your head, sighing.

"Okay, you two, let's go. Quietly," you instruct, ushering the boys out of the office. They giggle as they sneak past you, and you close the door softly behind them.

You return to the main room, where Gojo is practically vibrating with suppressed laughter. "You just let them draw all over his face?"

"We thought it would be funny," Gojo replies, grinning. "And it was."

"Very mature," you say, rolling your eyes. "You know he's going to wake up soon, right?"

As if on cue, a loud "What the fuck?" echoes through the parlour. You all freeze, and then Gojo and Geto dissolve into laughter, Toji smirking.

"You're all so brave," you mutter, as they push you towards the office. "Why me?"

"You're the best at calming him down," Geto insists, still chuckling.

"Yeah, go use those girlfriend superpowers," Gojo adds, winking.

Toji gives you a nudge. "Suck him off if you have to."

You glare at them as you walk towards the office. You can hear Sukuna's muttered curses and the sound of him moving around in the office. Taking a deep breath, you open the door and step inside, closing it behind you.

Sukuna is standing in front of the small mirror on his desk, staring at his reflection with a mix of disbelief and irritation. His face is a canvas of colourful doodles, and his eyes snap to you as you enter.

"Hey, Kuna," you say, trying to keep your voice light. "How was your nap?"

He points to his face. "What the fuck is this?"

"Uh, art?" you offer, giving him a sheepish smile. "The kids got creative."

His glare softens slightly as he looks at you, but he's still clearly annoyed. "And you just let them?"

"I didn't even know until I got back," you explain. "But, hey, it's washable. We can clean it off."

Before Sukuna can respond, Gojo's voice rings out from the other side of the door. "Put in the good work, Y/N, you're saving us all!"

Toji follows up with, "No teeth unless he's into that!"

Sukuna's expression shifts from irritation to something more dangerous. You can almost see the murderous thoughts forming in his mind.

"Ignore them," you say quickly, placing a hand on his arm. "They're just being idiots."

"You think?" he growls, but he doesn't pull away from your touch.

Geto's voice joins in, "Show him who's the real boss, Y/N!"

"And don't forget to swallow!" Gojo adds, laughter in his voice.

Sukuna's eyes narrow, and you step closer, trying to distract him. "They're trying to rile you up."

"They're succeeding," he mutters, but he's looking at you now, his gaze softening as he meets your eyes.

"I'll help you clean it off," you offer, reaching for a cloth and some cleaning solution from his desk. "Sit down."

He sits, still grumbling, and you gently start wiping away the marker. "You know," you say, trying to lighten the mood, "you make a pretty good canvas."

He snorts, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "You're lucky I love you."

"I know," you reply, smiling back. "And I love you too, even with marker all over your face."

Gojo's voice calls out again, "Y/N, you still alive in there?"

"Yeah, she hasn't killed me yet," Sukuna shouts back, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Well, keep up the good work!" Geto hollers.

"Only because you're scared of him," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

Sukuna chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "They should be."

"Can't argue with that," you agree, finishing up the last of the marker removal. "There, all better."

He stands, looking in the mirror again. "Thanks, babe."

"Anytime," you reply, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Now, go deal with those idiots."

You step out of the office with Sukuna, your fingers entwined with his as you walk towards the front desk. Yuji and Megumi are already there, giggling and playing with their toys. You lift them both onto your lap, balancing them with one arm while grabbing your coffee with the other. The kids snuggle into you, their laughter bubbling up as they see Sukuna approaching the trio.

Gojo, Geto, and Toji exchange wary glances, trying to maintain their innocent expressions. "All clean?" Gojo asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

"For now," Sukuna replies, his voice dripping with ominous intent. "Now, who's first?"

The trio scrambles, but Sukuna's quicker. He grabs Toji by the collar and hauls him back, planting him firmly in a chair. "Hold still," Sukuna growls, pulling out a black marker from his pocket.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing?" Toji protests, but he's laughing, clearly enjoying the chaotic turn of events.

Sukuna grins wickedly as he starts drawing on Toji's face, the crude outline of a penis taking shape on his cheek. "Just adding a little artwork. Sit still."

Gojo and Geto can't stop laughing, even as they try to make a run for it. Sukuna is relentless, though. With Toji marked, he quickly corners Geto next, who throws up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I give up!"

"Good choice," Sukuna says, drawing another crude image on Geto's forehead. The laughter continues, echoing through the parlour as Sukuna finally rounds on Gojo, who's been trying to hide behind a potted plant.

"Come on, Sukuna, you don't have to do this," Gojo pleads, but he's grinning, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh, but I do," Sukuna replies, pouncing on Gojo and quickly drawing yet another obscene image on his face as Gojo screams. The room is filled with laughter, yours included, as you sip your coffee and watch the chaos unfold.

Yuji and Megumi are practically bouncing with excitement, their giggles infectious. "Suku drew on their faces!" Yuji exclaims, clapping his hands.

"That he did, Yuji," you say, ruffling his hair. "Isn't it funny?"

Megumi nods vigorously. "Funny!"

Once Sukuna's done, he stands back to admire his handiwork. The three men sit there, each with a ridiculous drawing on their faces, their expressions a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

Sukuna turns to you, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Well, babe, what do you think?"

You raise your coffee cup in a mock salute, grinning from ear to ear. "Beautifully done, Kuna. A masterpiece."

The room erupts in laughter again, and even Sukuna chuckles, his earlier annoyance completely gone. The kids cheer, and you feel a warmth spread through you as you watch everyone having fun together.

"Alright, you three," Sukuna says, crossing his arms and towering over Gojo, Geto, and Toji. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before letting the kids use me as their canvas."

"To be fair, it was pretty funny," Toji says, trying to look innocent despite the crude drawing on his face.

"Yeah, you did look kinda cute with the whiskers," Geto adds, winking at you.

Gojo just laughs, slapping Sukuna on the back. "Consider it payback for all the times you've messed with us."

Sukuna rolls his eyes but can't hide his grin. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't make it a habit."

As the laughter dies down, you take another sip of your coffee, savouring the moment. Life at the parlour is never boring, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

taglist - @sad-darksoul @thejujvtsupost @kyo-kyo1

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winchesterszvonecek · 1 year ago

Note

you got me flowers?

Will 🥺

Flowers - [ Will Halstead ]

Prompt: “You got me flowers?”

Word Count: 976

Warnings: female!reader, fluff

Masterlist | Will Masterlist

It was like Will could sense when you’d had a bad day at work. That he had some sort of alarm go off in his head anytime you so much as felt a hint of stress or frustration. It’s what you loved about him. How caring he was. How he always went above and beyond to make sure your day ended better than how it had gone.

Maybe it was the doctor in him, you didn't know. All you knew was that you had struck gold in terms of the perfect guy and for as long as you both lived, you would never even think of anybody else but him.

You always looked forward to going home, more so now that you had someone waiting for you. Someone who loved you and would do anything to make sure you never forgot that. Some days Will wasn’t there because he was on shift, but even on those days he made sure to leave you a little something special to come home to. Something he knew would make you smile when he couldn’t himself.

However you knew he’d be home today. Waiting eagerly to make you feel better after your God awful day at work, one you were wanting to put behind you as quickly as possible.

The whole way up to your shared apartment you were twitching with excitement, trying your hardest to think of what it might be this time. What little thing he’d prepared for you or which item he bought that might make you smile and the second you unlocked the front door you simply dumped your bag on the floor and beelined for the living room.

Will was sitting on the couch, his back to you and the moment he sensed your presence he jumped. Literally. He was on his feet faster than you could blink, looking all embarrassed as he’d lost track of time and hadn’t finished preparing his surprise for you.

“You’re early.” He babbled out, scratching at the back of his head as you furrowed your brow a little, slowly making your way towards him.

“No I’m not.” You replied, rolling your lips a little as you couldn’t help but smile over his minor fluster. You folded your arms, taking another step forwards to feel your legs press against the back of the couch as you craned your neck to try and see what he was hiding behind his back. “Whatcha got there?”

“Nothing.” Will said casually, leaning his body parallel to yours to stop you from peeking, making you huff a little and pout dramatically. “It’s not ready yet.”

“Oh come on, just let me see.” You whined childishly, pouting again as you clasped your hands under your chin and batted your eyelashes at him. He never could say no when you gave him your best puppy dog eyes, something you abused greatly, and you could tell he was about to break. “Please?”

Sighing, Will ran his hand through his hair, mumbling a faint ‘fine’ which in turn enticed a quiet ‘yay’ to escape your lips in a way that made him smile, his heartwarming over just how downright adorable you got in these moments. He stepped aside, offering you a full view of the bouquet of flowers he had been trying to put together, most of which were still scattered across the coffee table and hadn’t made it into the vase yet.

“You got me flowers?” You said softly, your heart all but bursting in your chest as you rounded the couch, eyes never once leaving the colourful array covering the table.

“I was trying to make you one of those mixed bouquet things.” Will replied, gesturing to the mess behind him. “But it turns out that flower arranging is a lot harder than it looks.”

“Oh, Will.” You breathed out, feeling the slight warmth begin to form in your eyes as you subtly wiped at them.

You didn’t care if they were only flowers. Didn’t care that he’d bought you them plenty of times before. It was more the fact that he’d been trying to put together his own bouquet for you, that really got to you. He didn’t have to do that. He could have gotten a florist to do it, picked a premade one or even grabbed a small bunch from a stand on his way home from work.

But he hadn’t.

Instead he’d gone to all this trouble to, not only gather up all your favourite flowers in your favourite colours, you might add, but he’d spent what seemed to be hours trying to arrange them for you himself. And if that wasn’t love, then you didn't know what was.

“Baby?” Will stepped forward, taking your hand in his and drawing your teary attention away from the mess of flowers. He pulled you gently towards him, his free hand cupping the side of your face the second you were close enough. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect.” You whispered, voice a little shaky as you leaned into his touch. You turned your head a little, placing a soft kiss against the palm of his hand. “You’re perfect.”

“I take it you’re happy with the flowers?” He asked, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips as he brought you into his arms, allowing you to rest your head on his chest and feel the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath it.

“I’m more than happy.” You sighed contently, and honestly the flowers went forgotten the minute he encapsulated you in his warmth, feeling the touch of his lips atop your head as he kissed you.

You may have loved all the little things he did for you, but pretty much all of the time it was simply Will himself that was capable of making your day one hundred times better than you ever could have asked for.

Like this? Apply to my Will tag list here!

tagging: @kiddbegins @neapolitantoebeans @pensfan5871 @zaidatorcuatomorgado @alexxavicry @wandamaxim0f @everything-fandom @stephydearestxo @evanbuckbuckley @rens-daylight

Enjoy my work? Why not consider supporting me on Ko-Fi?☕️

#will halstead oneshot #will halstead fanfiction #will halstead one shot #will halstead x reader #will halstead fanfic #will halstead imagine #chicago med will halstead #will halstead chicago med #will halstead #will halstead x you #will halstead masterlist #chicago med #chicago med masterlist #chicago med oneshot #chicago med x reader #winchesterszvonecek

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astro-pioneer · 2 years ago

Text

chapstick!

your chapstick is too good to not share with him. 『chuuya, dazai, ranpo, honourable mentions』

chuuya!

didn't even realize it was yours at first

just saw it on the counter and went 'yoink you're mine now'

he thought it was one of his that he forgot he had tbh

it smelled and tasted similar but couldn't recall

your text to him made him realize he was very wrong

"I didn't know it was yours! I just saw it and realized I needed some so I took it." This is embarrassing; all of his subordinates were watching him 'argue' on the phone. "Yes, I understand it was hard to find. I promise I'll find a new one!" His sigh was full of defeat. Some of his men felt a little bad, having experienced the wrath of a significant other. He was already in a losing battle long before it even started.

His face erupted into pink over what you said through the receiver. "I- no! Listen, let me finish this mission and we can continue talking about this when I get home? I'll have a new one with me too, okay?" He can't believe that you called him when he was busy about something as small as chapstick. He'll just have to make it up to you, it seems, huh?

dazai!

menace to all of your items

likes to refer to everything as "our items"

knew exactly what he was doing

he once??? bit your chapstick?? out of nowhere????

loves to fluster you too which so it's a win-win to him

You were just sitting at your desk. You didn't bother anyone so far, did all your work for now, everything. So why, oh why, must the brunet get interested in what you're doing as soon as he sees your tube of chapstick come out of your drawer. "Ah, hey, can I borrow some?" He practically towered over you as he leaned against your desk.

You didn't even have the chance to open it before he started to bug you. However, this wasn't the first time he did this, so you just ignored him. The last time you offered it to him, he didn't even use it; it stayed in his pocket for a week before it took a swim in the river. He pouted when he realized you were still hung up on the last incident. He waited for you to look up after applying it to kiss you. "Vanilla? Good taste." He smugly massaged it into his lips as he left your desk.

ranpo!

makes sure every one you purchase is even mildly related to candy

"if you're applying it all the time at least make it taste like something we'll both enjoy!"

he slowly started to use your chapstick as time went on and he liked it more

got to the point where he'd somehow use the whole thing in a week? sir calm down

you carry two on you at all times now

Ranpo groaned while leaning back in his chair. Atsushi and Kyouka watched him blandly. "(Y/N) is so mean! Who buys a new flavour of chapstick out of nowhere?" He's been whining about the same thing for the past hour. You had to buy an emergency chapstick due to a misplacement of one of them. Ranpo was throwing a fit because he saw the different coloured tint and couldn't believe you decided to not have matching chapstick with him.

"But can you believe that? What about all the memories we had together with the same chapstick? I've been betrayed!" Something rolled off his desk and plopped onto the floor. Everyone in the room deadpanned while Ranpo refused to look. The very same chapstick he was complaining about laid at the bottom of his chair. "Oh."

honourable mentions!

sigma! man remembers every little detail about your favourite chapstick, down to every ingredient - had a mini meltdown in the store when he realized one changed and didn't know if you still wanted it

akutagawa! what's lip care? in all honesty the only time he'll go out of his way to apply it is if you offer it to him or he kisses you when you freshly applied it - wouldn't go out of his way to use anything other than that

#✎ expedition #∅*｡ saturn #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #ranpo x reader #sigma x reader #akutagawa x reader

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byechristopher · 1 year ago

Text

⠀

In Another Life.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.

Author's note: omg hi, again. You'll soon find out how much I love angst, trauma and just "dark" fics. It's a way to express myself every once in a while. I hope you all like it, if you have any requests in mind, feel free to let me know. I will make it up to you all with some fluff, I promise, lol. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: (not proof-read) this is pure angst, mentions of death, coping with death in general, trauma bonding. If any of this is triggering to you, do not read, please. Have a great day, instead.

Playlist:

It is only 6:00AM and I am up and running, ready to start my long day, although my sluggish gait says otherwise. I always loved waking up so early in the morning – it gave me time to start doing things when people were still sleeping. It is always a struggle to keep myself awake, though.

"I'm outside."

The screen lights up and I can see Chris' name from here – he must be outside already. I sigh and I quickly put my jacket and scarf on, not forgetting my boots, of course. With my bag in my hand, I quickly leave the house, trying to be as quiet as possible so that my mom doesn't wake up.

Chris is waiting in the car, I take a better look at my surroundings – the fog makes it hard for me to see, it's dark and it's cold, and the humidity makes it look like it rained.

"Hey, Chris. Thanks for picking me up." I mumble, he nods with an understanding look on his face. He's got that sickening purple colour under his eyes and his skin is even paler than usual. We match, he looks like a mess, too.

How couldn't he, anyway? It was a difficult day today. It's only been three years and how could we ever forget?

Me and Chris have known each other for a long time. Ever since we were babies – our families were very close. That was until my parents got divorced and we never saw my father ever again; made my mom isolate herself. My father came back one day, asking for forgiveness for leaving like this. Not from my mom, from me. I didn't want to trust him but I still talked to him every now and then. Now, Chris never really liked me and I never really liked him, it's not like we ever had an actual conversation. Before something terrible happened, to the both of us. On the same day. On the same plane. The plane crashed – my father happened to be there and Chris' best friend happened to be there.

We were both devastated so we found ourselves hanging out more than usual – is it called trauma bonding? I think so. That's what we did. Bonded over trauma. Because that's what we needed most; a person who knows and feels what we feel, who goes through the same experience. I don't think it was he healthiest thing to do, but who is really healthy inside on this earth?

"Give me, like.. fifteen minutes. I'll be back, okay?" he says and I give him a reassuring hug, pecking his cheek. I nod, watching him go visit his best friend's grave while I visit my father's.

"I can't believe it's already been three years since you've been gone." I chuckle, making sure everything is clean and the flowers are nicely put in the vase, "right when you were about to actually spend time with me, hm?" I can feel the tears in my eyes, and every time I speak, it's like I'm digging an invisible knife deeper into my heart.

I don't know how long it's been because I'm still cleaning and trying not to think about anything, but I see Chris walking over to me. It's so obvious that he's been crying, but he offers a smile anyway. His nose is red, it's kind of cute.

"You feeling okay?" he wraps an arm around my shoulders, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I nod.

"What did I always tell you? Everything happens for a reason." I chuckle, wiping the tears away from my eyes as we walk away, and towards the car.

"I used to hate hearing that. But I believe it now." he nods and clears his throat, "Connor believed it, too." it took him a while to say his best friend's name without crying. I told him that Connor wouldn't be happy to see him crying like this – that was the only way to make him stop.

"I gotta go to work, now. But we'll meet later, yes?" I say, wrapping my arms around his waist, looking up. The combination of the sky, his tears and his pale skin make his eyes go icy blue, I can't help but smile a little bit. He nods and cups my cheeks, bringing me closer to him to give me a soft kiss on the lips.

I'm not sure what me and Chris have going on. We definitely hang out a lot, we kiss, I basically have all of my stuff in his house, we have sex, but we've never said anything about relationship, or anything like that for that matter. We've been going through the most traumatic and difficult experience in our lives, so I feel like we desperately need the affection but we're the only ones who feel the same. So we just.. do stuff together. I try not to think about it too much.

I definitely not want to think about it when I'm in his arms. We're in front of the fireplace, sitting down on the carpet. I'm sitting in between his legs with my back pressed against his chest, and his arms wrap all the way around my shoulders and knees (that are pressed to my chest), keeping me warm.

"I'm so glad to have you here with me, being by my side on this horrible day, every year." he whispers in my ear and I close my eyes.

"So am I. You're making me feel like I'm not as alone as I thought I was." I whisper back and let my head fall on his shoulder, turning my head so that I'm able to look up at him. We sit in silence for a bit.

"I was thinking.. what you always say. Everything happens for a reason. What if.. what if all of this never happened? What if they were both still alive, what if our families kept being this close, what if we kept hating each other.. would we still find a way to be where we are now?" his voice is low and steady, I can see the fire moving in the reflection of his glistening eyes, "or was this tragedy meant to happen for us to find what we wanted in each other?"

I stay silent for a little bit. I've thought about this a million times and every time makes me go crazier than the previous one, "is love supposed to grow in souls and bodies that are filled with so much pain? Because if so, then it's nothing like what they taught us love would feel like."

"Do you think love is what we feel for each other?" he presses a kiss on my warm cheek.

"I don't know." I say truthfully, "I think that we both find shelter in each other's pain. We feel the need to be heard, to be understood, and then we want to hear the other, to understand their pain. To help each other, to be there whenever they might need, to care."

"Isn't that what love is?" he asks innocently, "in its most tragic form?" he looks me in the eyes and smiles softly.

"I suppose so.. yeah.." I say because, indeed, love could also bloom in shattered hearts, it doesn't always have to be flowers and rainbows, "and to answer your question.. I think I would definitely imagine myself loving you, without all of these." my voice is as soft as it can get.

"I would definitely fall in love with you, too." he says, looking into my eyes. And for a moment, I imagine us just like this. In a life where we would be happier. In a life where we would be able to love each other, without anything holding us back, in a life where we could keep the people that we wanted in our lives. In a life where we would have the space and time to express our feelings, understand our feelings.

"So, stay with me forever and even longer than that.." he says and I smile, leaving a trail of kisses on his neck, all the way up to his cheek and lips, "I might be able to become someone who loves you even in the good times."

"That's a promise, then. Because I'm definitely staying, till I'm ready to love you in the good times, too." I smile and slowly turn around to face him this time, wrapping both of my arms and legs around him, like a koala.

He laughs, he's hugging me and kissing me softly, "want me to make you some hot chocolate?"

"Yes, please."

⠀

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loz-3 · 6 months ago

Text

An Unwilling Operative - Part Two

Pairing: Loki x female reader Word Count: 2,257 Warnings: strong language, forced confinement, violence, forced sedation

Tags in the comments!

Part One

Consciousness ebbed and flowed like the tide. At times, you were only aware of colours and muted sounds, but sometimes a word would swim to the front and make some form of sense to your addled mind. Nothing spoken was ever in English, so while you could recognize spoken language, the meaning was lost. Deep within, you were aware that these were Hydra agents and whatever was happening was probably terrible. Moments passed, maybe hours, even days without respite until your vision cleared and you fully woke.

"What a fucking nightmare…" You sat up and ran your fingers through your hair. Glancing around, you were at home, on the couch, still wearing your work clothes from the day prior. You looked down at your watch, noting it was almost time to get up anyways. You tried to remember what the nightmare was about, but it was gone. Last thing you could recall was bidding Loki goodnight at the end of your coffee date. Scowling to yourself, you got up, scratching absently at a raised bump on your neck. You must have been bitten by something last night.

Once showered and dressed, you made your way to the office, not bothering to stop at the café. It was too overpriced for cheap, shit coffee anyways. You arrived late, which was very atypical for you. The receptionist waved and smiled, as she usually did, but you didn't even look up nor acknowledge her presence. Her face fell as you passed her desk silently, giving you a happy boost of serotonin.

The elevator was crowded, people shuffled to allow you a spot to stand, offering up “good mornings” and other pleasantries. Your scowl deepened and they kept their distance the best they could. ‘How on earth did I put up with this shit before?’ you thought, reflecting on the major shift in your attitude, ‘Fuck this place..’

When the doors opened on your floor, you pushed out of the elevator and set up for the day. Normally, you would organize the returned items, and prep paperwork ahead of the rush, all while cheerfully humming to yourself. Today was different, you felt the shift. It was like your eyes had been opened to reveal the truth about how shit your job was, and how greedy and corrupt S.H.I.E.L.D. was. Based on the tech you had access to, they obviously weren’t spending their government funds on bettering things for agents or the team.

Your day chugged on as you slowly descended into dubitation and general mistrust. As noon rolled around, you opted to close up for lunch. You just stepped out into the hall and locked the door behind you, when you noticed Loki loitering at the corner towards the lobby. With a huge smile, you went straight for him, grabbing the front of his leathers and pulled him down into an aggressive kiss. His eyebrows scrunched together, hesitantly pulling back. "What? I am not good enough for you now?" you spoke harshly, accusatorially, pushing off your grip on him.

He raised both hands in an effort to keep the peace, "Where is this coming from, Y/N?". Concern coloured his tone but he didn't lower his hands. He had noticed something was off earlier, having chalked it up to a bad day, but now he knew for sure that something was wrong. "We were starting slow, you did not want to rush…"

"Ah, of course! It's all my fault then!" You got right up in his face, arms crossed.

Loki lowered his hands to his sides, making sure to not touch you, "I did not say that…"

“But you thought it! ‘Stupid little Midgardian, couldn’t possibly know what she wants’!”

He sighed, gently placing a hand on each of your shoulders, “Please, listen to me…I..”

You cut him off, "Maybe you should just mind your own fucking business, if you're going to be like that." You turned your back on him and threw off his hands, striding part way down the hall before rounding back, "Know what? You and your massive fucking ego can fuck right off. Don't bother with tech requests anymore, I'll just get them sent directly to your room… saves me having to look at your narcissistic fucking face."

His jaw dropped in shock at your outburst, but he quickly composed himself, "I take my leave then." His eyes were steel as he headed around the corner, jamming the elevator button with enough force to crack the plastic. Your words had cut him deeper than you knew, but true to his nature, he buried the hurt.

You continued to pace the hall, a twinge of guilt flooded into your heart. '…I've never spoken to him like that before…' You thought, shaking your head in an attempt to organize your feelings, '…no..no! That's on him for leading me on!'. You retreated back to your office, slamming the door behind you. "What a dick…" muttering to yourself, you opened the shutters to the empty hallway.

Finally your day in this hellscape of an office was over. You slammed the gate closed, swiftly locking it and the door behind you as you swept from the building. You didn't encounter anyone on your way out, nor did you hope to. The goal was home and a bucket of whatever drink you had at there. Which, if you were honest with yourself, probably wasn't much. You walked quickly down the street, pausing only to glare at the little coffee shop on the way. "What a dump," you muttered under your breath, "and what a shit date THAT was…". Shaking your head to push out the memory, you hurried along, arriving at your door shortly. You stalked up the stairs to your apartment, noting the deadbolt was unlocked but not really caring that much. "If there's someone in here, you might as well just fuck off. I'm not in the mood for this today."

A man stepped into the light from your living room, leaning against the door frame, "My, my… aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" His grin was ominous, growing more sinister as you rolled your eyes at him and flipped him off.

"I say again… you can fuck off."

"But we have an offer for you, my dear." A second man stepped out from the hall to your right, you hadn't even noticed him at first so you stepped away in shock. He made no further move, however, allowing you to relax a bit.

You turned towards the first man, shifting your hands to rest on your hips, "What kind of 'offer'?" Just as the words passed your lips, a wave of déjà vu hit. You frowned, bringing a hand up to press against your brow, confusion ringing in your head. The man in front gave the other a quick nod and he grabbed a hold of your arms, allowing the other to inject something into your neck. "What the fu…"

The chemical in the syringe doesn't knock you out completely, but makes you very easy to maneuver. The two men escort you to the couch, speaking to each other in a language you don't understand. You are plopped down hard onto the middle cushion, staring up at the men. The first, wearing a dark jacket with a Hydra insignia, crouched down and grabbed your face roughly, "I need you to listen, we are here to help you…" You tried to nod, but the grip under your chin didn't allow movement, he carried on, "дальний, обзор, иль, винить"

At the last word he uttered, you felt your confusion melt and the whisper of the memory was gone. "I just work in a office, I'm not sure what I could do for you… especially after you broke into my apartment…"

He chuckled darkly, "And we apologize for that. We're the good guys here! Your 'employer', well, they're a front corporation. Every conflict, every war in history was started by them.. for profit. You had wanted to help people, but now you sit in a tiny room, under constant surveillance, giving their living weapons all the help they need to destroy and murder." His compatriot nodded along, somehow pushing those intrusive thoughts home within your mind.

"I…did. I do!" You pulled yourself forward on the couch, urgently grabbing at the hand he had dropped from your face, "What do I need to do?"

When you return to work the next day, you are armed with a pair of tiny flash drives. The first one, once inserted into any computer at S.H.I.E.L.D, would eventually break through their security systems and install a program that essentially would open a data tunnel for Hydra. After a few hours, you'd be able to switch out the drives and the second one would transmit all data via the latent tunnel program.

You thankfully avoided meeting anyone on your route to your station. The last thing you needed was more stupid conversations with your idiot co-workers. Once you clocked in and started your day, you popped in the first of the two flash drives.

Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to you, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security system was far more advanced than Hydra had anticipated and the attempt on breaking in got flagged immediately.

"What in God's name is happening?" Nick Fury stormed around his desk to confront the agent standing in his doorway. "What do you mean, 'we have an issue'?" "Sir.." the agent began, stuttering as Fury's good eye glared down at him, "Sir, we had a breach in the digital security sector but we don't know where the anomaly is originating from, aside from within the complex on level five." "That's most definitely an issue then." "Yes sir… we've managed to lock down the floors' server access and have isolated the program, so it thinks it's working properly." The agent stepped back as Fury swept from the room and strode to the main security terminal. Every camera had been pulled up on the screen and he could easily see that there was only a few staff currently on duty on level five. 'Now we wait…' he thought. Someone would eventually make a move that gave them away. Squinting at the screen, he noted that everyone on the floor were veteran staff. Why on earth would one of them sabotage S.H.I.E.L.D.? He shook his head, not giving in to the thoughts of having a traitor in the mix.

A few hours passed. Finally the first flash drive had finished its task, the little light on it had changed from blinking red to solid blue. You gripped the drive and pulled it out of the computer, dropping it into your pocket for destruction later. Slipping the other drive out, you leant forward and gently inserted it into the USB plug. Suddenly the gate on your window slammed shut.

Shit.

Rushing to the window, you found it was locked externally. Same with the door out into the hallway and the door back into the tech storage/repair area. 'Shit shit SHIT!' You were trapped…just like the rat you were.

As if your situation couldn't get any worse, you heard the click of something engaging beyond your sight and a yellow mist slowly began to descend from the sprinkler system. You pulled your shirt over your face and covered your mouth, knowing that nothing good ever came from inhaling mystery chemicals. Huddling in the corner of the room, you tried to avoid the mist but it was no use. Soon the whole space was hazy from the gas and your vision faded to black.

Now you were…here…wherever here was.

This place…as it turned out, was a very bright, very sterile-feeling square room with a single low slung cot and an awfully flat pillow in one corner. The rest of the space was windowless, colourless, and bleak. A large door took up most of the far wall, opposite the cot, and there was a little camera above the door frame. It was also very quiet. Most definitely a S.H.I.E.L.D. holding cell of some sort.

When you had awoken from unconsciousness moments ago, your body was curled up on that cot, facing the bare wall. Every muscle, ever fibre of your existence hurt. It was like a truck had rammed headlong into a tree, and you were that tree. 'Ugh, what the hell…' your emotions flitted between panic, hysteria, and pure rage, 'Now, how can I get out of this place?'

Glancing down, you realized your normal clothes were gone…replaced with a horrible grey-coloured jump suit. The shoes were plain white slip-on style and no socks. Very minimalist but at least they let you wear something. Being naked would have made this little adventure of yours so much worse. You pulled on the door…it didn't budge. Slamming your fists on the metal, you growled in frustration, knowing you were in a ton of trouble.

Turning your attention to the camera, you asked aloud "Well, what the fuck do we do now?". The light on the camera flickered once, as if it was trying to reply but no voice accompanied it. You sank down to the floor, back against the wall and waited. Knowing S.H.I.E.L.D, it was only a matter of time before someone came to question you.

Notes: I'm so sorry for this portion, I had to end it on a hard note but a third part (maybe the final?) will be up early next week!

дальний, обзор, иль, винить - Russian (further, overview, il, blame)

Part Three

#loki #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki x f!reader #loki x reader #loki imagine #fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki smut #loki angst

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changingplumbob · 5 months ago

Text

Just a note to say Drusilla is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns.

Glenn walked over to the large tower. Jackson and Coleman had really made all those bricks on top of the ones for the houses? No wonder they were so cranky, it was a lot of work. Expecting the inside to be plain stone he was pleasantly surprised to see it furnished in a similar fashion to the living spaces of the houses with wood panels on the walls, a lot of books, and some comfy couches.

Glenn: Ummm, Drusilla? Are you... here?

The response came from somewhere above him.

Drusilla: For you, I suppose so, if you have something to offer. Up the ladder

Glenn turned and noticed the ladder leading upwards. Well he hadn't got his workout in today so he supposed this would have to count. Testing how fast he could climb he reached the top easily and pulled himself on to the floor.

Drusilla: My time has a price Glenn, what do you want

Glenn: It's not me specifically, well I guess it is, but Phoebus said I should see you about learning some spells

Drusilla: *scoffs* You think you can manage what I do

Glenn: I don't actually know what you do

Drusilla: A lot, I've been at this a long time. How about necromancy

Glenn: Oh, no, I don't fancy bringing anyone back from the afterlife

Drusilla: *sighs* Why does everyone think that's what necromancy means? It's about communicating with spirits of the dead, completely different to reanimation

Glenn: Do you... reanimate stuff?

Drusilla: Some of the spirits enjoy a taste of life. For example, if a bird breaks it's neck I can make it a stable house for a spirit for up to a week

Glenn: Right, well, I don't think I'll be trying that out

Drusilla: Reading minds of others? It can be incredibly useful and often far easier than talking

Glenn: Uh, I'm going to say no again. I do actually enjoy talking

Drusilla: *huffs* What do you actually want to do then Glenn? I don't have time to figure it out for you

Glenn: Phoebus said you're the best at mischief magic, is there some kind of magic trick you can teach me? To keep me safe if I decide not to stay here

Drusilla: Why would I teach a trick? Although... I suppose some kinds of illusion spells could be helpful...

Glenn: What do you mean

Drusilla: What are the walls made of Glenn

Glenn: Uh, bricks on the outside, a lot of bricks. Then wooden paneling for the interior walls

Drusilla: Wrong. They are completely brick

Glenn: But the panels-

Drusilla: There are no panels Glenn. They're a self sustaining illusion I cast. I could teach you something similar, how to make it look like something is there or more useful, how to hide something from sight

Glenn: If it's not too dangerous

Drusilla: So long as you don't hide a dragon you're fine. Now, my fee

Glenn: Fee?

Drusilla: For my time. I'm doing some research on alternate universes. How they may interact, if there are ways to see others, contact alternate me's, that sort of thing. Heartbreak has been in short supply around here so I'll borrow some of yours, it can be a useful ingredient

Glenn: You'll borrow my heartbreak?

Drusilla: It's tied to you, so I'll just borrow a bit of you. Now, I best use it right away so you stay here and finish this gem for me

Glenn: Wait you're charging me and expecting me to do something for you?

Drusilla: If you ever want your hair colour back then yes

Glenn: What do you mean my hair colour?

Drusilla: An integral part of you is your hair, it holds a good portion of your essence and therefore the heartbreak. I've borrowed the colour

Glenn: Wait, are you saying-

Drusilla: Your hair is black right now? Yes

Glenn: But- but- I didn't feel anything

Drusilla: I'm just that good

Glenn: But I love my green hair! It makes me me, and looks good

Drusilla: Then I guess you'd better get on with the task I set if you ever want it back

Glenn: You can't just steal stuff like that

Drusilla: *scoffs* Maybe you can't but I assure you, I can. Don't worry, the spirits will tell me when you're done, then I'll return the colour

Glenn: But I don't know anything about gem carving

Drusilla: That sounds like a you problem. No time to learn like the present Glenn

Glenn watched Drusilla depart and felt his heart sink. They may be powerful but something told him he should stay clear of Drusilla in future if he could.

Drusilla: *yelling* That's not very nice

Damn, they did read minds.

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #GWG #GlennSutherland #DrusillaLombardi

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phoebepheebsphibs · 8 months ago

Text

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 31: Amnestic Syndrome

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

It has been a wonderful few days.

Leo has been chillin' like a king.

Casey got a suntan.

Raph caught a hermit crab while swimming and giddily showed it off to everyone.

Donnie started (and won) a squirt gun war.

Splinter has been napping nonstop, which is not exactly different from the norm but he's happy as a clam and has 100% been enjoying the seafood dinners.

Even Draxum has benefitted from this whole thing, having been reunited with Huginn and Muninn. He's even offered them their jobs back as his shoulder pads! Or whatever it is they're supposed to do.

And, of course, Mikey is having the time of his life running free and uncontained. Leo can't remember the last time he saw him so energetic and happy; it's like he's a little kid again.

Mikey has asked to go explore the heart of the island today, and so the four brothers are off on a hike into the beautiful jungle. Raph and Leo mostly lead the way, though Mikey runs off in different directions and they change course to accommodate. It reminds Leo of when they were turtle tots exploring the sewer tunnels. Raph would always take the lead as the eldest, though Leo (headstrong child that he was) would often fight to take charge or go a different way that looked cooler. Donnie and Mikey would walk hand in hand together until Mikey's hyperactivity went into overdrive and he'd start hooting and hollering and race up and down the tunnels excitedly. Leo would go chasing after him in a game of tag, Raph would cry because he was afraid they'd get lost, and Donnie would remain unconcerned. Ah, what good times they had...

Leo notices that Mikey had gone off in a certain direction not too long ago, but now can barely hear him. Scratch that, he can't hear or see him at all.

"Mikey?" Leo calls out. "Where are ya, bud?"

Donnie instinctively looks down at his wrist tech. Raph starts walking in the direction that Mikey's gone off in. He walks past the brush and flora...

Mikey comes bounding out of the bushes and pounces on Raphael, causing him to yipe in fright and topple over. Leo yelps at the literal jumpscare, but his fright turns to uproarious laughter at Raphael's face. Donnie smirks to himself and mumbles something along the lines of "I knew he was there."

Raph lays on the ground, gasping for breath as Mikey sits on his plastron with an enormous grin, tail wagging happily at the prank's success. Leo is on the ground cackling.

"Okay, okay, you got me," Raph sighs, picking Mikey up and off of his chest. "You can stop laughing now, Leo."

Leo, in fact, does not stop laughing for five more minutes.

The four press on.

Leo has to hold onto Donnie's arm for support after all that laughing. Dee isn't such a huge fan of that, especially with all the heat and humidity from the tropical climate. But he seems preoccupied. Leo happens to glance over and catches him looking at his wrist tech again.

"What are you doing?" Leo asks, leaning over to get a look for himself.

"Just checking something."

Leo notices several colour-coded icons.

"The trackers?"

"Yes. Since we are on a remote island and Michael has a tendency to just go running off when excited, I have been making sure that I know where he is at all times."

Leo looks back up at Donatello's face. His drawn-on eyebrows are furrowed, a crease on his fivehead and a stare of intensity in his eyes.

When Mikey first went missing, Dee would just stare at the tracking program and reupload new lines of code, debug it, update it, even turn the program off and then on again. He sat at his computer for an entire day, trying to understand what had happened. It worked fine for a few hours after Raph and Leo had reported Mikey MIA. But then, suddenly, it flickered and died out. Donnie didn't speak for the entire rest of the night, only staring at his screen and trying to get it back online. Leo had tried talking to him about it, But Donnie remained adamant that his tech and his ninpo were unparalleled. It would have taken massive voltage or some kind of mystic EMP like what the Krang had to deactivate it.

....Now, thinking it over, and after they'd discovered Mikey's altered DNA and the fact that he'd experienced severe electric charges, it began to make sense as to why the tracker was deactivated.

But it was like Donnie had said before -- it wasn't just deactivated, his tracker was removed. And though Leo and the others had considered it an invasion of privacy, Donnie's subdermal trackers came in handy more often than not, and Leo had found it was Dee's way of showing them that he cared about them all deeply. Not being able to know where Mikey was, or if he was alive... terrified him. Terrified all of them.

All that to say, Leo understands perfectly well why Donnie has been checking the trackers as often as possible.

Leo lets go of Donnie's arm, walking side by side with him.

The hike -- while being almost unbearably hot and through thick jungles -- is actually quite fun! Even with Mikey's occasional jumpscare pranks on the three.

Donnie goes into nerd mode, analyzing the flora and taking samples for later.

Raph is having fun chasing after Mikey and playing games with him. Mikey's memory issues and slight confusion make it seem like he's much younger than he really is, and Raph has missed being able to baby him like this. Some part of Leo thinks this might become an issue later on, but for the moment, Mikey is happy to have fun and Raph is happy to reminisce on days when his baby brother used to play with him like this.

And Leo is just happy to enjoy this time with his brothers. Even if he's constantly getting trampled by Michelangelo.

Speaking of which, Mikey is due for another jumpscare any minute now. Leo is on guard, listening for the little hunter. Mikey's inherited crazy impressive instincts from the added DNA. He somehow knows how not to make a single sound when moving, even in the tall grass and thick roots. He's fast, too, like blink-and-you-miss-it fast. You usually don't even realise he's stalking you until you're face-down in the dirt with him giggling on your back. Leo looks around cautiously for him. He sure is taking his sweet time...

Raph starts checking behind ferns and large flowers.

"Gee, he sure is hiding pretty well this time. I can't see him anywhere!"

Leo starts looking with him, checking the tree limbs to see if he's going to do another aerial ambush. But he can't see him anywhere.

"How does someone covered in neon yellow polka dots get so good at camouflage?? It's like he's not even here!"

"...That's probably because he isn’t, Nardo."

Leo and Raph turn to Donnie, who is looking down at his wrist tech.

"Mikey is several meters away from us. He ran off five minutes ago and has been stationary for quite some time. I suggest we go looking for him. The fact that he hasn't moved for five minutes is mildly concerning."

Leo and Raph follow behind Donatello as he leads the way towards a small clearing. Donnie pushes aside a group of monsteras, revealing a tiny river and waterfall hidden within the jungle. Large and exotic flowers grow around the clearing, almost fencing it in. The riverbank is made from volcanic rocks -- glassy obsidian and smoothed pumice and shimmering gabro. Leo and Raph ooh and awe at the scenery.

"Mikey is somewhere in here," Donnie says, looking around. "According to my GPS, he should be right around -- yipe!!"

Donnie yelps as he stumbles forward, nearly falling into a hidden pit just in front of them. The pit is obscured by the grass and alocasias growing around it, almost covering the opening completely. And to top it off, there is a short but unexpected drop-down from the area around the clearing, like an unexpected stair.

Both Raph and Leo grab Donnie by the shoulders and yank him back. He glances back with a grumble.

"What island has a secret hidden pit lying around?!"

From deep within the pit, they hear a chirp.

"Mikey!" Raph calls, stepping around the pit and looking down into it. "Is that you?"

"Hi, Raphie..."

"Are you okay?" Leo shouts.

"M'fine, just stuck."

"Stuck? Stuck how?" Leo asks, peering into the pit.

He can see Mikey sitting at the bottom of the pit, hands and feet doused in mud and muck. He looks awfully embarrased.

"Can't you just climb out?"

"Tried," Mikey answers. "Too slippery. Rocks are too wet an' slimy, Mikey just kept sliding on the mud!"

"Well, this is the time when I reiterate why we should always bring our mystic weapons with us when hiking," Donnie grumbles, crossing his arms.

"It was just a walk in the jungle! It's not like we were going to fight anything! Why bring them?" Leo refutes.

"Oh, I don't know, in case Mikey falls in a hole and we need to A: make a portal to get him out, B: Use giant elongated hands to lift him out, or C: create impossibly futuristic tech to get him out!"

"Okay, Einstein!" Leo growls. "It was just a suggestion! You could have actually brought your bō, I wasn't gonna stop you --"

"Can we stop shiftin' blame and get to helpin' Mikey already?" Raph yells, grabbing the twins' attention.

"Right right right," Leo stammers. "Well, Donnie actually gave me an idea! We can't really use our ninpo without our magic weapons, but you know who can?"

"…Mikey?"

"Exactly!" Leo says with a smile.

He leans down and calls into the pit.

"Yo, Mike! Just make a mystic chain and climb out!"

Mikey stares up at him, cocking his head in confusion.

"How?"

"Y'know, with your... mystic abilities? Your ninpo?"

"Whazza ninpo?" he asks.

Leo swallows. Both Raph and Donnie exchange glances.

"It's... it's like a superpower you have. It's a part of the family, you can do all kinds of cool stuff! Your ninpo is usually making these cool glowy chains... though, you were starting to do some new things, too... B-but, just try making a chain," Leo says, rambling awkwardly.

"How do I make a chain?" Mikey asks, slightly annoyed. "I can't make anything down here!"

"No, not like make it with your hands -- Make it with your mind!"

"My mind?" Mikey asks incredulously.

"Sorta, I'm not sure exactly how your mystic abilities work -- but for me, I usually just think of where I want to go and the portals take me there. Just try concentrating. Think about family, that might help. Your ninpo is powered by our family bond!"

Mikey stares blankly at Leo, as if he just told him his spots were purple and not yellow. But... Mikey trusts Leo, so...

He concentrates. He thinks hard.

"...Nothing's happening."

"Just keep trying!" Leo calls down. "I believe in you!"

Leo believes in him. Mikey trusts Leo. Family bond. Think about family. Make a chain. Concentrate...

Mikey's spots start flickering.

He squeezes his eyes so tight he gets a headache. He balls his hands into fists until the claws dig into his palms. His muscles tense.

"Woah, Mikey, don't hurt yourself! You're gonna give yourself a hernia or something --"

Mikey barely hears him. He growls and grunts and groans, blood vessels in his forehead popping from the effort as he tries.

He can't let them down. He can't let them know the truth. They're his FAMILY. Just... just... FOCUS!

Mikey's markings flicker once more... twice...

Something bright and glowing golden starts to form... shapes, materializing like dust in the air.

Think about family. Think about family. Think about --

Think about how you are not a part of their family anymore, no matter how hard you try to deny it.

Mikey's markings dim, the light goes out. The chains decay before they ever take solid shape.

He sighs, slamming his fists against his thighs in frustration.

"I-- I can't do it. I don't know how!"

Leo, Donnie, and Raph each look at one another.

"...Okay, Mikey. It's... it's okay, we'll get you out another way. Hey, Raph! Don! I think I saw some vines on our way in, let's try those..."

The three Hamato brothers leave Mikey alone in the pit. Alone with his thoughts. With his failings. With only his Instinct.

The trio are back within moments, having collected several vines and bound them together to create a rope for Mikey to climb up on.

They cheer when he emerges, but Mikey doesn't meet their eyes. The cheers simmer down, replaced by an awkward silence.

"So... Mikey," Leo sighs, placing a hand on his little brother's quilled shoulder. "I think it's time we had a talk..."

Mikey cleans the muck from his lower half before talking. He rubs the mud out from between his toes and talons, digging under his fingernails and doing his best to get himself presentable for the talk.

He's stalling. They all know he's stalling.

But Mikey has been dreading this conversation since the day they got him back from the labs.

Mikey's feet dangle in the stream, playing in the gentle flow of water. He wishes he could just stay here and stay quiet, never have this talk. It feels different from a scolding. Mikey doesn't mind scoldings, he's used to them from the labs. Though, his brothers are much nicer about their scoldings than the scientists were. But this isn’t a scolding, he can tell. It's something worse. It's a confrontation… As Mikey is marinating in dread and river water, Raph comes up behind him and rubs his shoulder.

"Hey, buddy? Ready to talk yet?"

Mikey shakes his head no.

"Do we hafta talk?" he whispers.

"I think so," Raph whispers back. "This is important."

"I didn't mean to do bad," Mikey says softly, pulling his knees close to his chest. "I tried my hardest! I really did! But... I-I couldn't do it."

Raph hums in response. He's not sure what to say.

"...Don't feel bad about that. You tried really hard, I saw. We just... wanna help you figure this out, okay?"

Mikey takes a deep breath and exhales loudly.

"Okay."

Mikey takes Raphael's hands and shakily stands up, his big bro helping him to walk normally over to where the twins are waiting.

"Hey, Angelo!" Leo greets with a nervous smile. "You all cleaned up?"

Mikey nods, sitting himself down, just outside of their circle. They don't let that slide; both Raph and Leo scoot out to make him a part of their formation.

"Great. So, uh... I guess you're all wondering why I called you here --" Leo starts.

"Skip the jokes and get to the point," Donnie interjects.

"Yeesh, tough crowd! Okay, okay. Look, Mikey, we've noticed that you've been... uh, how shall we say... acting oddly around us."

Mikey swallows. He tries not to let his anxiety rise any more than it already is.

"Odd? U-uh, how?"

"You threw away your chucks," Leo lists.

"You couldn't recall our names," Donnie adds. "And I've seen the way you react when we call you 'Angelo'. I suspect you don't know your full name is Michelangelo, and not simply Mikey."

"And April said you asked her why she cares about you, or why she didn't look like us if she was our sister," Leo reminds him. "And you reacted weirdly when Dad showed you our family photos."

"You also didn't recognize Draxum," Raph contributes to the list. "And you don't remember what the Prison Dimension or the Krang are, do you?"

Mikey thinks about bluffing. But his lack of response betrays him. He sees Leo flinch and go pale at the mention, Donnie shudders and squirms. Even Raph's body language shifts. But Mikey doesn't get it. He's caught.

"Casey talked about the future, and you had no clue. You get confused by inside jokes or references, and I'm pretty sure you have no idea that Dad is actually Lou Jitsu."

"He's who?!" Mikey asks, though it takes a moment for the memory of who Lou Jitsu is to process.

"See, that's what's concerning us," Leo exclaims. "Mikey, we don't mind that you're confused, but... you aren't telling us the whole picture. And what happened with your ninpo kind of confirms what we've been suspecting for a while now..."

Mikey's head buzzes loudly. He feels ill.

"Mikey... you don't actually remember us, do you?"

His eyes sting, blurring over. He hyperventilates, he can't catch his breath. His hands clasp onto his skinny arms, his legs fold close to his chest, his tail wraps around him. His limbs trap him in a cage, the spines and spikes and quills stand on edge to protect him from the panic attack. His brothers The others try to calm him, but Mikey can't hear anything over his weeping and wailing.

Mikey rocks back and forth, feeling like he might vomit. Raphael places a hand on his shoulder. Mikey screams, swatting the hand away in a panic. Mikey stammers and stutters, not even sure what he's supposed to be saying. He wants to convey how scared he is, how hard he's trying to hold it together, how bad he feels at letting them down, the terror he has at having been caught in the lie. But all he can hear himself say is 'please please please' and 'sorry sorry sorry'.

Hands take his own. Mikey looks up and blearily sees the colour purple.

"Mikey. Can you hear me?"

Mikey nods. It's hard to breathe. He doesn't say it out loud, but the deep and desperate gasps he's making are obvious indicators.

"Focus on me, okay? Follow my lead. In one --" Donnie makes an exaggerated inhale, posture arching. "-- out two." His exhale is loud and exaggerated, his stature relaxes.

Mikey tries to repeat him. His breathing is sporadic, he feels like he's failing him at the most simplistic of things--!

"Hey, hey, focus on me, right? Just focus on my voice, on my breathing. In for one, out for two."

Mikey follows his lead, eyes locked onto Donnie's.

"There we go. In for one, out for two. In for two, out for four. In for four, out for six..."

Donnie and Mikey do the breathing exercises until Mikey's lungs find a rhythm. He calms, hiccups and suck-ups following suit, but they slow soon enough. Donnie manages a tiny smile, an attempt to comfort. He pats the ground around Mikey's knees.

"Mikey, can you tell me what you're sitting on?"

Mikey looks down.

"G-grass...?"

"What do you smell?"

"Fl-flow-wers...? M-m-m-mud. W-water, s-sea water...! R-Raph..."

He hears Leo chuckle.

"Name three things you can see."

Mikey glances around.

"M-Mikey sees you... sees brothers... um, sees trees? And stream... is, is that three?"

"Yes, that's three. You're doing great. Now, can you tell me how we got here?"

"W-walked here. Mikey ran, f-fell in a pit..." he starts crying again. "I-I couldn't get out, I couldn't do the --"

"It's okay, stay present with me," Donnie soothes, rubbing his thumbs over Michelangelo's hands. "Just stay focused on the present moment."

Mikey sighs, tries breathing again. Stay present. Stay focused. Okay...

Donnie talks to him, asking simple and easy questions, such as 'what do you hear?' and 'what colour is the sky?' and 'can you taste this?' after handing him a honeysuckle. Mikey calms down quickly after that.

The other two sit at a respectable distance, making sure not to overwhelm him. After some time, and Donnie's calming techniques, Leo crawls towards them.

"You okay?" he asks cautiously, reaching out to hold Mikey's hand.

Mikey nods and hums a 'yes'.

'Sorry,' he signs. 'Got really scared.'

'That's okay,' Leo signs back. 'We didn't mean to freak you out. Just wanted to talk about it.'

"Can we still talk about it?" Raph asks gently, looking Mikey over. "I mean, if you're okay with that."

Mikey nods, crawling into Donnie's lap for comfort.

"Mikey ready..."

"Okay then," Donnie sighs. "Mikey, we need you to be honest with us so we can be sure to take proper care of you. How much do you actually remember?"

"Mmmm... not a lot," he whimpers. "Mikey remembers a few things... small things. L-Like random moments."

"That would be the brain sauce Draxum made doin' its thing," Raph nods.

"But other than that..?" Leo asks.

"But… o-other than that... Mikey can't remember anything before the labs," he shamefully admits.

"Mikey, why didn't you tell us?" Donnie questions.

"Scared to," he whines. "Didn't want to admit it, didn't want to disappoint you... Y-you all love Mikey so much, and I don't... I don't know why... I don't know who Mikey is, and I just... I wanted you to... be happy. I wanted to be Mikey for you."

Mikey feels Donnie wrap his arms around him and press his face against his head. He's shaking. Leo scoots in and hugs the two of them together. Raph joins in last, his arms just barely long enough to engulf them all.

"Miguel... we want to help you get better, we want to help you remember everything --" Leo states.

"B-but what if I c-can't?" Mikey sobs.

"Then we'll love you regardless. If you never remember us, or yourself... then that's okay. I mean, it'll suck, I won't lie. But it won't be like we've lost you. You're still here, you're just figuring out who you are again. And we'll help you."

"But I-I didn't want you to know!" Mikey wails. "I didn't want to tell you that I wasn't Mikey anymore! I wanted you to love me, I wanted to-- to-- I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Donnie pulls him tighter.

"Mikey... I do love you. Whether you remember me or not. Whether you remember yourself or not. I will always love you."

Mikey sobs and clutches the others his brothers tightly.

"Mikey... there's something we need to tell you, too," Leo sighs. "Something we probably should have told you earlier."

Mikey looks up at him anxiously.

"It's about your DNA."

Mikey nods slowly, prompting him to go on.

"Well... when we got you home and Donnie did the scan, we found out what you were mutated with. It was... a lot."

"Specifically it was jaguar, basilisk lizard, boa constrictor, baboon, mandrill, and proboscis monkey," Donnie interjects.

"Thank you, Brainiac Unlimited™ for that one."

Mikey nods again, seemingly unfazed for the most part. Leo wonders if he's still processing it all, or knew the information beforehand, or... maybe just doesn't care? He mentioned doing lots of tests at the labs, so he probably already figured he had multiple creatures' genetics inside of him now.

"Well, Donnie left out one crucial piece of info..." Leo mentions.

"Leo, I still don't think it's a good idea," Raph murmurs.

"We want him to be honest with us, we need to be honest with him. He has to know."

"Know what?" Mikey asks curiously.

"Leo is referring to how your DNA was primarily mutated with Krang," Donnie blurts before Raph can intervene.

The four are silent as Mikey processes.

"...So?"

"The Krang still don't mean anything to you?" Raph asks. "Not ringing any bells?"

Mikey thinks.

"You said something about Krang at the junkyard," he recalls. "And Casey mentioned them a little. The lab people talked about them, too. But I don't really know what they are..."

"They're aliens," Leo explains. "They're very dangerous aliens. They tried to invade Earth several months ago, but we fought them."

Mikey's eyes widen.

"Am... am I an alien?"

"Part alien," Donnie clarifies. "But we still consider you 100% Mikey."

"Dangerous aliens... you fought them... I-I remembered Leo said --"

Mikey pauses, eyes bulging and breath quickening as the realization hits him like a train.

"Prison Dimension. Did... was that because of the Krang? Of me??"

"No!" Leo says, unintentionally shouting as he grabs Mikey by the arm. "No, no! That was not you! You didn't do that, the Krang... the Krang didn't even do that, actually, it was --"

Leo sighs.

"...It was my choice. The Prison Dimension was made to hold the Krang inside, but they got free because of me. My stupid ego and my dumb mistakes. A-and... the only way to... I had to do something, and there wasn't any time to think of a better solution, and so... so I...."

"You portaled yourself and the Krang into the Prison Dimension and had Casey trap you both inside," Raph finishes.

"Yeah," Leo says, swallowing as he shakes. "That."

Mikey stares at Leo, eyes popping out of his head. He'd mentioned the Prison Dimension, he'd shows his aversion to it, and Mikey had even remembered scenes where he and his family dealt with the aftermath of it all. But... he didn't expect this. He didn't expect it to be because of monsters.

"...How did Leo get out?"

"You did that, actually," Leo chuckles. "With your ninpo."

"Mikey did that?" he echoes, looking around for someone to deny it. "With the ninpo?"

"Yep. Your mystic powers were growing, and Casey told us that you became the most powerful master of magic in the future! You didn't let that tidbit go, and you kept trying to make magic portals the whole time we fought, even though our mystic abilities were nullified by... the...Krang..."

Leo's voice trails off. The four exchange glances.

"The Krang had some kind of supersonic screech that deactivated our ninpo. Could it be that..."

"Is that why I can't do the ninpo anymore?" Mikey asks. "Because I'm... Krang?"

"I-I don't know, but it's a theory," Donnie suggests. "We'll talk to Draxum and Papa about it. We'll figure it out."

Mikey pauses, looking down at his hands. his claws.

"The Krang are evil... right?"

They don't answer, but their silence speaks volumes. Mikey looks up at them, trying to meet their eyes.

"Do... do you hate me because I'm Krang now?"

This is why I said it was a bad idea to tell him.

He deserves to know! And it might be tough, but --

"You dum-dums do know you're not talking and it's making Michael uncomfortable, right?" Donnie scolds, cradling Mikey a little closer.

"Oh!" Leo snaps back. "No! No, Mikey, no, of course not! Look, we were kind of nervous about the Krang DNA, but only because we weren't sure how you'd deal with the news."

"And I was concerned about the ramifications of modifying mutant DNA with alien genetics, but yes. Emotional stability was in question," Donnie adds.

"But you are not a monster just because you have alien DNA now. You're still our Michelangelo, and we still love you."

"...You love me now...."

Mikey remembered the conversation he and Leo had the other day, and how Leo had said he'd love him if you were a worm, or a regular turtle, and if he were a monster. Leo finished his little declaration by saying 'I love you now', and Mikey had found the wording strange. Not anymore, now he understood what Leo meant. He's a monster now.

And Leo loves him now, just as always.

Mikey cannot understand this. But he accepts it for the moment, resting his head against his brothers and just… stays here. Trying to understand why they don't hate him, why they keep trying to convince him he's not a monster when the evidence is starting to stack up against him.

But Mikey just accepts it. He'll understand it later.

The scientists have been very interested in Mikey's control of the human covered in pink parasites. They've been doing a lot of tests and examinations.

He's not required to move or do anything. He sits and lets them do what they want. They look him over, poke and prod him, lift his scales and scutes and quills. A doctor shines a light in his eyes, giving Mikey a headache. Another pricks him with a needle and syringe. They take his blood again. They take a skin sample again. They take a saliva sample again. They do everything three times over, again and again and again.

Mikey feels numb.

His mind wanders, helping him escape this room and find some semblance of serenity as he waits for these tests and exams to be done. He's so bored and tired. But compared to everything else they make him do here, this isn't so bad.

Mikey's attention comes back to him when he hears someone talking loudly by him. He flinches, thinking that he's being scolded or ordered to do something, but no. It's just Dr. Timothy getting enthusiastic over his mutations.

"I just can't believe it! The creature can control the zombies!"

"This is unprecedented. And I'm quite surprised, I've never seen Dr. Chaplin so intrigued and... dare I say?" Dr. Finn pauses. "Excited."

"This little abomination could hold the key to ending the Krang infections once and for all!" Dr. Timothy celebrates.

"But why stop there?" A third voice adds.

Mikey flinches again and cowers softly as Dr. Chaplin walks in and joins the conversation.

"This little mutant monster shows a higher success rate than any creature the TCRI has ever cooked up before. And it takes orders so well," he says with a sickening smile.

Dr. Chaplin reaches down and grabs Mikey's face, squeezing his thin cheeks and tilting his head to get a better look at him.

"Despite its age and emaciated figure, the little beastie has unprecedented strength and fighting ability. Just what we've been looking for. I do think our tests are nearly complete."

"Complete, sir?" Dr. Finn asks, raising an eyebrow.

"He's shown excellence in everything thus far. Problem-solving, keen instincts, agility… I think it's time we move onto the next phase of our studies. The A.L.P.H.A. device is ready for testing, put him in the Interaction Room when you're done. Depending on how it goes, we may be able to move on to..."

Mikey zones out again. He's tired of this. He doesn't like being handled or tested or talked about like he's an 'it'. He's a Mikey! Whatever that is…

Mikey feels heaviness around his throat, followed by a yank. The collar and lead were placed on his neck while he wasn't paying attention. He's dragged back to the Interaction room for the test with this strange new 'A.L.P.H.A. Device'...

Mikey can't sleep. He keeps thinking about what happened earlier that day.

He can't shake the feeling that... something is wrong. He's missing something. His brothers love him, despite knowing that he doesn't remember them. They support him, despite knowing that he may never fully be Mikey again. But... why does he feel so distant? Why is he still so scared to be around them, but so much more scared to be without them?

In the labs, he never knew why he wanted his brothers. He never even knew they were brothers, they were more so figments of imagination, a distant mirage that he could almost touch. They were shadows. And now they're real.

So why can't he accept them? Why can't he accept that he's one of them?

Because you're a monster. KRANG, Instinct whispers. You are a KRANG. It is what I am, what YOU are. What WE have become.

...Are Krang monsters?

To the weak, yes. The weak always view the strong as monsters.

So Mikey really is a monster?

Did you doubt this? Instinct questions.

Mikey hoped...

HOPE IS A FOOL'S WEAPON, Instinct scolds. YOU CANNOT SURVIVE ON HOPE. ONLY STRENGTH AND FORCE. THE KRANG ARE STRONG. THE KRANG SURVIVE. YOU WILL DO AS I SAY AND YOU WILL LIVE.

Even if it makes Mikey a monster?

Does it matter?

Mikey doesn't know anymore... h-he wants to believe it does, he wants to believe he's not what Instinct says he is, he wants to believe that he is their Mikey!

Even if you were once "their Mikey", it hardly matters now. You are simply an amalgamation creature made to serve a purpose. The humans created you to be a monster. Too bad they couldn’t remove the ALL THE MIKEY FROM YOU.

Mikey throws the pillow over his face and screams into it. Stop talking, Instinct!

You know it is true. And your "brothers" confirmed it for you. Even THEY KNEW you were a monster. Why do you continue to fight this truth?

"Because I'm not a monster!" Mikey whisper-shouts, sitting upright and flinging the pillow into the wall. "I'm not! They said I'm not!"

You DO know what a lie is, don't you?

"But... but Mikey trusts Leo--"

Why? Haven't you learned by now? I thought you would have known better. The labs taught you nothing.

"Shut up!" Mikey shouts.

Weak, pathetic, useless, coward --

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Mikey screams, hot and angry tears running down his face.

Mikey tears his bed apart, shredding the blanket and ripping the extra pillows to pieces. He growls loudly, looking for something else to attack in lue of Instinct. He punches the mattress, his tail whips the wall and gashes the wallpaper, he grabs one of the lamps on the nightstand table and chucks it, pieces shattering and the lampshade flying off from the impact. In the flickering light from the dying lamp, Mikey sees something move in the corner. He runs and confronts it --

It's his own reflection in the mirror. Teeth snarled and fangs elongated, his claws extended, his quills raised and his tail spiked. His eyes burn brightly and the irises are nothing more than thin blood-red slits.

Mikey jerks back suddenly, terrified of his own image. His pupils and irises return to normal slowly…

You see? Nothing more than a monster. Accept it.

Mikey screams in anger and punches the mirror as hard as he can. The glass shatters instantly and his knuckles bleed.

The door swings open and nearly smacks into Mikey's back.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Raph asks in a panic, scanning the trashed room before he sees Mikey, shying away with embarrassment.

Raph calms, then panics again when he sees the blood and glass.

"Sorry," Mikey squeaks. "I got... I was mad, I..."

"Leo and I heard yelling and thought --"

"It was just me, sorry. I didn't realise I was being so loud... Instinct was making me mad."

"The voice in your head?" Raph clarifies.

Mikey nods.

"Humph. Well, I don't like this voice bullying my little brother. Come on, Mikey, let's get you cleaned up."

Raph hoists Mikey up and carries him to the bathroom. Mikey perches atop his shoulders again, tail wrapping around and hanging lazily over his shell.

"So, what was Instinct saying?" Raph asks.

"Um... just the usual stuff."

"Which is?"

Mikey's fingers curl nervously.

"Just... stuff about... fitting in, I guess."

Raph places a hand on Mikey's head and rubs circles onto his skin.

"I'm sorry about that..." he sighs. "I'm sorry about a lot of things..."h

Inside the bathroom, Raph sets Mikey down on the toilet seat and grabs the supplies he needs -- disinfectant, bandages, some swabs, cream, etc. Mikey holds his paw out for Raph to inspect.

Mikey is actually surprised by the gentleness of his big brother. Raphael's huge, strong hands are slow, soft, delicate; carefully pulling any remnants of glass out with a pair of fine tweezers. Mikey winces initially, but stays still otherwise. This is starting to remind him of the labs... he zones out as Raph tends to his cuts.

"...Mikey? Mikey," he hears.

Mikey blinks back to reality. His hand is bandaged.

"Oh, hi Raph," he murmurs. "Thanks."

"No problem, that's what big brothers do. Now, can you tell me why you punched the mirror?"

"I was trying to punch Instinct..."

"So, because you couldn't punch a voice in your head, you punched a reflection of yourself?" Raph surmises. "Makes sense."

"I know it sounds stupid..."

"Not really," Raph shrugs. "I used to do the same thing."

Mikey looks up and slowly recalls moments from his childhood where Raph would get so frustrated that he'd obliterate things with a single punch. Walking into bathrooms where the mirror had been cracked and taped over in a feeble attempt to fix it or cover it up.

"...Really?"

"Oh yeah," Raph says with a nod as he leans against the wall. "Raph had a hard time not listening to intrusive thoughts, and they make him really angry. I used to get so mad after Savage Raph would attack you guys. Do you remember Savage Raph?"

Mikey does, actually. Flickering images of his biggest brother growling, his eyes whited over and his teeth bared. Barbecuing villains in a sewer tunnel, attacking his brothers, calling them 'sewer monsters'.

"...Yes, Mikey -- I remember." Mikey looks up hopefully at him. "How did you stop it?"

"I can't say I've stopped it," Raph admits. "I still have moments when I almost lose control, times when my thoughts start to turn against me. But I've learned how to fight against those thoughts, take them captive before they take me captive."

"Why can't I do that?" Mikey asks.

"You can, though!" Raph assures him brightly. "Mikey, you're the one who taught me how to do that!"

"Mikey did that?"

"Yeah, bud!"

"But... I can't remember, I don't know..." Mikey pauses to think, before looking up hopefully at Raph. "Will you teach me again?"

Raphael smiles and cups Mikey's cheek.

"Absolutely. That's what brothers do."

He's not your brother anymore.

"Shut up!" Mikey growls, squeezing his eyes closed, and pressing his knuckles against his temples.

He feels Raph lift his face up. He gently opens his eyes and looks at Raph's concerned expression.

"What did Instinct say?"

"...That we're not brothers..."

"Well, that's 100% a lie," Raph says. "So just tell him that."

"But he'll fight back --"

"Then you fight back, too!" Raph encourages. "Say it out loud. Tell him he's wrong."

Mikey swallows and feels a little embarrassed, but he follows.

"Y-you're wrong."

No.

"Now tell him he's a liar."

Mikey fidgets.

"You're a liar."

What are you -- why are you listening to him? He doesn't know what he's talking about --

"Tell him you won't listen to him anymore."

I'M THE ONE WHO KEPT YOU ALIVE!

"But Instinct --"

"No, Mikey. You can't listen to him anymore. He's not helping you, he's not doing anything for you. He only wants to confuse you and hurt you. So what do we do with things that lie and hurt?"

"...We get rid of them?"

"Exactly. So tell him he's not welcome anymore."

NO!

"You're not welcome anymore, Instinct."

DO YOU REALIZE HOW STUPID YOU SOUND?! DO YOU KNOW HOW RIDICULOUS --

"And every time he tries to talk again, every time he tries to lie or make you feel bad, you ignore him. Confront him. He only tells you lies, so you can always defeat him."

Mikey nods, determination bubbling up inside of him.

"Instinct isn't welcome," he annouces.

Stop this.

"Louder!" Raph encourages.

You fool --

"Instinct isn't welcome!"

YOU CAN'T --

"Even louder, buddy!" Raph shouts.

YOU WRETCHED LITTLE --

"INSTINCT IS NOT WELCOME! MIKEY IS NOT GOING TO LISTEN TO INSTINCT ANYMORE!!"

It's quiet.

"...I... I think I did it," Mikey heaves. "I think I... I think he's gone! I can't hear him!"

Raph cheers with Mikey, and pulls him into a bear hug.

"I knew you could do it! And if he ever tries to weasel his way back in, just tell him off and tell him what for! And remember, he'll only tell you lies to make you feel bad. But they are NEVER true. And you can use that against him."

Mikey squeezes Raph around the neck as he laughs. He feels... free. A strange kind of freedom, one he hasn't felt even after leaving the labs.

It feels good.

"So... now what?" Mikey asks.

"Now we go to bed," Raph yawns, prompting another laugh from Michelangelo. "Though, your room is kinda trashed now, so you probably shouldn't sleep in there..."

"Turtle pile?" Mikey suggests, going into puppy-eyes mode.

"Absolutely," Raph nods, hoisting Mikey back onto his shoulders and taking him out and into their brothers' bedrooms to get them all together again.

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starry-nights-17 · 2 months ago

Text

Just wanted to say Happy Christmas to you all and leave this here. A short festive story, set in the canon world but sort of AU (in that Ian is living with Clayton).

*Mickey breaks into the wrong house....but maybe it was the right house after all 🤔

(Some derogatory language ahead, not mine, all Mickey!)

----

Christmas was just around the corner, meaning Terry was working them harder than normal. And by work, he meant stealing. Breaking and entering.

Mickey was the perfect burglar. Quick, quiet and small enough to squeeze through tight windows. Tonight's target, a fancy West Side house, which featured a large expensive looking tree in the front room. At the base of it, was a pile of exquisitely wrapped presents. Jackpot.

Mickey jimmied open a window at the back of the house, expertly so, given the practice he had. He crept into the connecting living room, eyes darting around and ears on high alert.

Confident that the house was vacant, considering the car that was usually parked out front was gone, he started tossing the packages into a large holdall he brought with him.

"Mickey, what the fuck"

His blue eyes blinked into the darkness, until he eventually made out a shape and spotted familiar red hair and freckles. The Gallagher kid had moved away a year back. His sister Mandy had whined about missing her BFF for weeks, droning on about how he discovered his mom's affair and that the man who raised him wasn't his real dad.

He made a run for it but the kid grabbed his arm, "I can't let you take it Mickey, not all of it anyway".

His voice was soft, those green eyes even softer, an understanding there. Gallagher picked out a few packages and held them out to him.

"Your dad's an asshole".

Mickey felt his eyebrow pull up and his face scrunch up in confusion, "What's it to you, carrot top?"

Ian, that was the kids name, chuckled and took a step back, his face lit up in amusement.

"Just know what he's like, what will happen if you return empty handed. Just take them, I can replace them tomorrow".

"This a trick, you gonna call the cops on me or something?"

"Course not, South Siders don't snitch".

Mickey gestured around and caught Ian's eye, "in case you haven't noticed freckles, we ain't in the South Side".

"Whatever, I'm still fucking South Side Mickey and more than that; I'm still a Gallagher".

Mickey nodded slowly, feeling the kid was being genuine. "Well now I really can't take this shit", he sighed and dropped his bag, "fucking tainted or whatever".

Ian laughed again, a sweet and bright sort of sound that had Mickey's lips curving up at the corners. He didn't know why he was still standing there, hovering, loitering. And at the scene of a crime, although technically he hadn't stolen anything.

"You want a beer or some hot chocolate or something, Clayton, um I mean my Dad and his wife are out, won't be back for hours".

Mickey snorted out a laugh, "you fucking serious, you like retarded or something? I just tried to rob you and now you're offering me hot chocolate?"

Ian grinned and shrugged casually, "not like I haven't stolen shit before. I get it. I know you haven't exactly got a choice Mickey. And," he paused and looked away, almost shyly, "miss the South Side I guess, don't see my family as much as I'd like. Figured you could catch me up on shit, on Mandy".

"That annoying bitch," he joked, "she's still a pain in my ass and a huge slut. There, all caught up freckles".

He turned to leave, feeling awkward now and feeling his cheeks flush with colour as the goofy kid smiled confidently back at him. It was as though he actually liked Mickey's abrupt manner or some shit.

"C'mon Mick, I'll even toss in some marshmallows. I remember you have a sweet tooth".

Mickey raised his eyebrow in a question, "the fuck you know that?"

Ian laughed and started towards what he presumed was the kitchen, "you think I didn't know about all those snickers you swiped from the store?"

Before he registered it, he was walking forward, following him, as if he was a magnet being drawn in that direction.

"You fucking stalking me or something, watching me, kinda creepy man".

His tone was easier and lighter than intended. Shit, he almost sounded like he was dangerously close to flirting.

Ian cocked his head and studied his face for a second before replying, with a wide devilish grin.

"Kinda my job Mick, to keep my eyes on you".

Mickey tried to hide an emerging smile with his hand and was forced to look away, from that intense green gaze. His skin felt electrified and he was sure his cheeks were glowing.

"Well it's not anymore, guess you don't need a job since you moved up in the world".

Ian set a large mug down in front of him, complete with mini pink and white marshmallows floating on top.

"Not so sure I did," Ian paused and seemed thoughtful, "kinda miss it, working, earning money, even miss the fucking ghetto".

Ian laughed dryly and Mickey shook his head at him in disbelief.

"I just mean it's different here, fucking boring and like dad's just trying to make up for lost time so he never yells or says no. Its weird".

"Oh poor you, shit, you don't know how lucky you have it man. Complaining like a spoilt princess about being rich and living in a place like this, where you don't get a black eye every other day".

"You think I don't hear myself Mick. Course I know I sound like a prick. I just don't feel like I belong here. I don't fit in. I don't know how to live this fucking normal life".

"Well, I'd swap places with you any day," he muttered, blowing on the hot chocolate before talking a long satisfying sip. Damn, it tasted good, like proper expensive shit, not that crappy dollar store stuff that masqueraded as "chocolate".

"I'm sorry, I know I suck. I go to a great school and have everything I want. Meanwhile the rest of the Gallaghers are still living in that shithole, with fucking Frank".

"Actually, heard he's shacked up with some rich bitch over on the North Side. Never stops bragging about it in the Alibi".

Ian laughed and shook his head, "course he is. Frank always manages to land on his feet".

"Looks like you take after him in that respect Red, even if he's not your real dad or whatever. Suck it up, you got out. You can make something of yourself. Mandy always said you were smart, so don't waste that education. Go cure cancer or whatever the fuck".

Ian settled down, sitting opposite him, as they both smiled quietly around their mugs. The situation was weird but only in how it wasn't weird, not really. Mickey felt at ease, like he was naturally able to talk with Ian, his usual shyness not present.

"Not really a science geek, believe it or not," Ian joked, an attractive smile on his face again, "more of an English Lit geek".

"You mean like books and shit. Rather you than me pal".

"Wait, you can actually read, Mickey?"

Mickey sat up straight, ready to knock the fuckers teeth down his throat. That was, until he caught sight of Ian's cocky smirk. He flipped him off and felt a smirk of his own creeping up.

"Fucking comedian over here," he muttered, "course I fucking can, dickhead. Might be a Milkovich but doesn't mean I'm a dumb fuck".

"Never thought you were," Ian replied with a gentler smile now and a fondness in his eyes. "Always figured you were smart. And, funny too".

Ians eyes darted away, his lips lowered to the mug again, his cheeks faintly pink.

"Funnier than you anyway," he teased in return, "not that it'd be hard".

"I meant it, I want to help. Don't want you getting into trouble or whatever...with Terry".

Ians eyes appeared sincere and possibly full of concern too. Mickey was surprised, wondering how this kid, who was almost a stranger to him, was genuinely worried about him returning home empty handed.

Then again, he probably witnessed Mickey's battered and bruised face on numerous occasions. Perhaps at the Kash n Grab or at the Milkovich House when he hung out there with Mandy. Likely his sister confessed some harsh home truths to her BFF too. Fuck.

"Can't take your shit Gallagher. It's fine, I'll hit some other place up on the way home".

Ian rose to his feet, taking out his wallet, offering a wad of cash to him.

"The fuck," he stood and swatted his hand away in offence, "don't want your money either; not a fucking charity case. And just cos your whore of a mother fucked some rich prick doesn't make you better than me".

Ians face grew red with anger and he stepped forward, invading his space, "don't fucking talk about her like that Mickey. I know I'm not better than you, never fucking said I was. Just don't want you getting punched in the face, or worse, by that evil psychotic prick. Fuck me, for giving a shit".

Ian shoved him and Mickey shoved him back. Both of their chests heaved up and down, both clearly emotional.

"Shit, I shouldn't have said that about your mom; not like mine was much better. Not cool. I know she had fucking problems or whatever, " he thumbed his nose, stumbling on his words, "just don't like handouts alright, I can take care of myself".

Iam nodded and his expression softened further, "I know you can take care of yourself Mick. Just nice sometimes to let other people help. Not like I can't spare some cash. Please, just let me help, let me feel like all of this," he gestured around, "means something. If it means saving that pretty face from getting another pounding, then its worth it".

Mickey's eyebrow pulled up and a sharp breath left his mouth, "did you just call me fucking....pretty....think its you thats looking for a pounding pal".

Ian smirked and approached him, head cocked to the side, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"Generally I do the pounding...but I'm always open to trying new things".

As if Ian's bold words weren't having enough of a mind-blowing affect on his body, the asshole winked (actually winked) at him.

Mickey opened and closed his mouth like a fish, rendered utterly speechless. Not only was the kid gay but he was openly flirting with Mickey, implying shit; not just about himself but about Mickey too. The giant sized balls on Ian. He was pretty impressed though, considering Mickey could easily be kicking his ass right now. Talk about a risky move.

"I uh, better go"

He mumbled and pointed vaguely in the direction of the door, "Terry...you know...fucking schedules or whatever".

Ian chuckled and stepped forward again. His hand reached out, trailing down his chest; smoothing out the creases on his shirt, and then he was stuffing something in his pocket. Before Mickey could argue, Ian was shutting him up in the most unexpected and unsettling way. By pressing his warm lips against his.

Naturally his reaction was to push him away, which he attempted to do but Ian was stronger than he looked and held his hands at the wrists. Green eyes locked on his, questioning, searching. And somehow Mickey relaxed enough to nod up and down.

There was that predatory smirk again before those lips were on his once more, firmer now, with puprose and determination. But it was a brief and tame kiss, which he was grateful for. Because if Ian tried to take it further, put his hands on him or slipped him the tongue, he wasn't quite sure what would happen. Could end up in a fuck or a fight, Mickey wasn't certain. All that he was certain of, was that his skin was on fire, his heart was thumping wildly and he was breathing harshly.

"Think of it as an advance payment...or a loan," Ian said next, waking him from his haze.

"Huh?"

"You can repay me"

"How the fuck do you expect me to pay your pampered ass back. Piss poor here, remember".

Ian laughed, once again causing an unfamiliar flutter in his chest and Mickey smiled automatically upon hearing the pleasant sound.

"There's other ways to pay me back Mick," Ian replied with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck off, you think cos you kissed me I'm some sort of prostitute...I'm not even gay man".

He almost choked on the lie and judging by Ian's amused expression he wasn't buying it either.

"If you say so. Besides, that's not what I had in mind....but now that you mention it...."

Mickey scratched his eyebrow and flipped him off, barely containing a smile.

"Fine. No sexual favours, got it, " Ian joked, his hands held up in the air, "I just meant you can pay me back by maybe hanging out with me once it a while, that's all".

"You just want me to hang out with you...and you'll basically pay me for it...the fuck is wrong with you man?".

Ian cackled and shook his head, "nothings wrong with me. I just fucking like you or whatever and I already told you; the moneys insurance, protecting that pretty face of yours".

Mickey's middle finger was raised once more while his face was busy heating up, "ok fuck, fine, i'll take the cash. But not promising you anything. You're fucking weird man, not sure how much more of you I can handle".

Ian's face lit up and he cocked his head in that boyish, mischievous way again, "pretty sure you can handle a lot Mick," he paused and hummed, "hopefully".

"The fuck," he whispered, the word coming out in a shuddery breath. "I'm outta here. Good luck with being rich now or whatever".

He waved at him, clumsily and awkwardly, before swiftly heading towards the door.

"Don't be a stranger Mickey".

He didn't even need to turn around to recognise the grin that cocky redhead was undoubtedly sporting. Ian Gallagher. Of all the houses. Of all the situations. This night had not turned out like he had expected. He paused at the door, his fingertip tracing over his bottom lip, somehow still feeling Ian's lips there. Fuck. Mickey already knew it. He needed to kiss him again.

"Whatever. See ya later, firecrotch".

❤🎁🎄🌈

#fanfiction #shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #cute alternative meet #ian lives with clayton #christmas #ian and mickey flirting #soulmates #sassy ian #burglar mickey #fluff #first kiss #hot chocolate

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findafight · 2 years ago

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Not me writing a prologue for a fic I'll maybe never write about Steve being on the Dream Team lmao. I saw a pro basketball player Steve post a while ago and couldn't stop thinking about it. Anyways-

At the end of March Madness in 1989, the scout for the Pacers has lunch with the head coach of a community college basketball team that somehow made it to the first round before being pulverized. They sit across from each other, the coach seemingly a bit overwhelmed but not outright surprised. That's good, it means Jerry, the scout, doesn't have to worry about him freaking out or babbling too much.

The team captain had caught his, and possibly others', eye. Good layups, a few three pointers, solid defence, and a helluva lot of potential add up to someone to keep an eye on, except they can't because the guy plays for a rinky-dink community college and only had one televised game. The only reason Jerry saw the kid is because the Roane County Community College Ospreys had put in a hell of a fight the past three seasons. Jerry wonders why the hell the kid hadn't been offered a scholarship somewhere...not Roane County. Doesn't matter though, because they're here now.

"so. You wanted to talk about Steve?" Says the coach, August Nearaly, a bit weary.

Jerry nods, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. Wanted to get a sense of him before I actually talked to him."

August sighs. "As a player or as a person?"

Raising his eyebrows. "Is he that different off the court?"

"no! No, not like how you probably think. Harrington's a sweet kid, but also incredibly...well, not weird, but. Peculiar? He's got quirks. Bit paranoid, but not in a conspiracy way. In a 'no one should walk home alone in the dark' or 'hey, where'd John go? He was right here and then I did a headcount and he's not?' kinda way. Y'know? Like, they're all adults, but he does headcounts and worries anyways."

"huh. Oookay?"

"it-- I'm not saying this to rag on him, to be clear. It just too a while to get used to. Honestly, it's been good for team building. Makes them think of each other not as individuals, but part of a unit that needs everyone healthy and whole to work."

"that's good. He's a team player."

"oh yeah. It's not surprising, really. He's from Hawkins." August says the name like Jerry should know what that means. It's a town, sure, but other than that... Jerry's at a loss. Maybe something a few years ago about a fire? "He has most assists in Osprey history. Some of the guys joke that he's allergic to the ball."

"He's good on the court?"

"Jerry. I know you're here because you saw the March Madness game. You know he's good. He'd be even better if he could afford those fancy prescription goggles Horace Grant wears."

"seriously? Why not contacts?"

"don't make them for his prescription. You didn't see his interview? Kid's got thick horn rimmed glasses. Too many concussions apparently. God knows how he tells players apart when the jersey colours are similar."

"shit. That's why he was squinting the whole time? I thought he was just stressed."

He shrugged. "eh. Probably a bit of both. He takes it seriously, but not too seriously. Y'know? Half the guys were shitting themselves from nerves and Harrington stands up in the locker room, hands on his hips, and gives a speech worthy of the most melodramatic underdog sports movie."

Jerry laughs. "No shit."

Waving his hands, August nods. "no shit! He says all this stuff like 'we worked hard...we deserve this...we may not win but let's do our damn best. The worst that could happen is we lose, and that isn't the end of the world. So let's go out there and play some basketball!' or something, his was better, and the boys cheer. Then they put in fifty points to one-thirty."

Jerry winces. "Must have hurt, huh?"

August grins. "No way. One of the best games they ever played. You saw it. You wouldn't be here if you hadn't. They played their goddamn hearts out." He leans forward. "My boys don't have the same facilities as the big universities, or the funding to offer scholarships. They're at Roane Community because they want a degree or certificate but have other responsibilities. Parents or siblings to stay close to, jobs to work, people to take care of. They joined my team because they like playing basketball, loved the game and wanted to spend some of their precious time playing it. They put the work in on the court and off it. And we made it to the NCAA tournament because of it. We put in fifty points against the goddamn Michigan Wolverines! The champs! And they knew that. I've never heard of a locker room after an 80 point defeat so happy."

"seriously?"

It's all pride when Coach Nearaly says "yep. They may not be the best basketball players in college, but my god, they're probably the best team."

"because of Harrington?"

"partly. They all contribute, make sure they do things right. It's not a one man show, that's the point. They rally around him, but they all are part of the team, and know it. That's what Steve makes sure. Why I made him captain."

"So, you think he'd be a good pick for the Pacers?" This is, after all, a business meeting.

August nods, picks at his pancakes. "I'll be honest with you Jerry. You're not the first scout to talk to me about Steve."

"really? Who?"

"you know I won't say. But, between me and you, Steve's Indiana born and bred. His wife's planning on getting some lib Arts degree in Chicago or Indy, and your offer might be the deciding factor for them."

Jerry blinks. "He's married? At, what? Twenty-one?"

August nods. "Just turned twenty-two. High school sweethearts or something. Obsessed with each other." He chuckled, a bit ruefully. "I'm a bit jaded but damn. You mention her name? He lights up like the fuckin Fourth of July."

Jerry whistles. "Honeymoon phase gets us all."

"for almost two years? Nah. It's just love." It sounds a little wistful, coming from August. "Anyways. I dunno if the other team is serious about him, and if they are, they'll probably be disappointed. Kid isn't moving out of the Midwest. He's got family here, and is getting a goddamn elementary education degree. He won't uproot his life for a chance at the NBA. But, if you offer. Well. He'd at least seriously consider it."

Humming, Jerry chews his eggs as he thinks. "You think he'd be up for the lifestyle? The road games out numbering home ones?"

There's an air of seriousness when August levels Jerry with a look. "If he doesn't want to, he'll tell you. You gotta give him time to talk to his family though. This offer? It'll come out of left field for him, even if I give him a heads up. You get that, yeah? You want to recruit a kindergarten teacher to the NBA without any build up. He needs time to process that and then see where the people in his life are at with it."

"I guess it is unusual."

"try being the community college basketball coach getting two goddamn calls from NBA scouts. Thought I was hallucinating."

Jerry laughs, counts some bills for the tip. "Thank you. For your time and insights. Let Steve know I'll call tomorrow?"

"will do. He'll still probably drob the phone on you, though."

"as long as he doesn't hang up!"

#Steve Harrington #platonic stobin #steddie #stranger things #qpr stobin #teacher steve harrington #stobin #dream team steve au #listen. famous basketball player steve is friends with lead guitarist Eddie Summons (alias to not be as connected to the who 86 thing)#steve and his friends have a very nice vacation in the summer of 92 to Barcelona.....#literally none of the characters are here its just two randos talking about steve lmao #finda writes stuff #finda's rambles #also hos number is 52 because that adds up to seven hehe #sorry to the guy who actually got drafted by the pacers in 89 but i dont care #also. my experience with team sports is that one time we won handily but felt bad because we didnt play very well and we could FEEL it #and the next game we got pummeled but played so much better and could feel the team come together it was magical

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