#i wanna put her in a paper shredder

[crybabypastels]

I still hate this fucking skin so god damned much. Such an ugly ass cop out for something better, Riot making old skins into prestige just tells me they don't care to actually give champs that haven't gotten a new skin in a while well, a new skin.

Plus this is just piss yellow Star guardian soraka. I'm at least glad Riot has seemingly put in a little more effort in prestige skins than just making them white and gold, my girl deserves justice though

[spiceynoodls]

guys guys guys Rottmnt separated au where Leo’s with Splinter, Mikey’s with Witchtown, Donnie’s with Draxum, and Raph’s with the Nexus

I’m not gonna sit down and start writing another tmnt thing right now but I’ve been rolling this around in my mind for a few hours and I wanna put it down somewhere

fair warning this is ridiculously long. Run. Save yourself.

Leonardo Hamato grew up in the sewers with his Sensei/father, Hamato Yoshi. After being mutated in the explosion in Draxum’s laboratory, Splinter decides not to tell Leonardo about the Hidden City or his brothers— whether it’s to protect Leonardo from how dangerous the HC can be or out of spite towards Draxum isn’t clear. Leo grows up alone in the sewers with his father, taught to hide from the humans above them in NYC and thinking he’s pretty much alone in the world until he’s 15.

After the explosion in Draxum’s lab, Draxum was able to retrieve two of the four turtles. Without his entire laboratory, he doesn’t have the room to raise and care for two children, so he gives one to Big Mama and keeps one to raise himself. He frequently visits Raphael, but focuses most of his time on raising Donatello.

Donatello, growing up with Draxum, had intense training in combat and the mystic arts. Luckily for him, his father was happy to indulge his interest in science and engineering. He still prefers his tech over his mystic abilities, but finds ways to use the mystic abilities to enhance his technology. Draxum is very proud. And with Donatello helping him, Draxum is able to figure out that the threat to Yōkai kind that was prophesied wasn’t humans, it was the Shredder. Donatello is aware there are other turtles and that Draxum doesn’t know where two of them are, but he knows Raphael well and they get along.

Raphael, grew up in the Nexus with Big Mama. After being given a child to care for, Big Mama made it her mission to make the Nexus as safe as possible so her son wouldn’t get hurt. The staff knows Raphael and treats him well, and he treats everyone with as much kindness as he can muster. He did combat training when he was a kid, but prefers not to fight people. Big Mama had him try the lower rankings of the Battle Nexus before, but he didn’t like it very much. The only time he does actually fight is when he’s hanging out with Donatello and they train together. Big Mama is a smother, she dotes on Raphael and Donatello and indulges their every request. Raphael doesn’t ask for things for himself often, but whenever he wants something for Donatello he asks his mom right away.

Michelangelo grew up in Witchtown under a Yōkai named Mona Lisa. She found Michelangelo while she was heading home from the Hidden City one night. She’s very aware of Mikey’s gift with his mystic abilities and encourages him to exercise them. He hangs out at Run of the Mill with Hueso frequently, and Hueso even teaches him to cook sometimes. He gets along with the neighborhood kids and helps his mom around her store whenever he can. He’s completely unaware that there are other turtles like him, but it never bothered him that he was the only one he knew of. He does have this faint feeling that there’s something out there, he can feel it… but that’s probably nothing.

Once Leo turned 14, he decided enough was enough and snuck out of the Lair. He loves his dad, but his biggest fear right now is growing up alone in the sewer without ever leaving and being a hermit for the rest of his life.

He sneaks out at night and meets April O’Neil, who was on the way back to her apartment from the store (her mom forgot to buy toilet paper) and they become friends. Leo’s used to being by himself, so sometimes he’ll forget to talk, but April has no issue hanging out with him.

One day while hanging out, they run into Mayhem while the Yōkai is being pursued by Donatello after stealing an ingredient for Draxum’s mutagen. Donatello removes his cloaking broach and starts questioning Leo about where he’s from (since Raphael was the only other mutant turtle Donatello had ever met), and during the confusion, Mayhem manages to get away with the ingredient.

Donatello is, to say the least, pissed. He leaves, threatening to kill hurt Leo if they ever meet again.

April and Leo see Donatello open the portal to the Hidden City and decide to head there themselves to see what’s going on. Leo is ecstatic to find an entire city underneath New York where he’s considered normal. He and April find Run of the Mill and befriend Hueso.

Eventually, they run into Mikey at the restaurant. Mikey mentions how it’s the first time he’s ever met another turtle and he’s getting a weird vibe from Leo, kind of like that feeling that’s always been in the back of his head and Leo mentions how he previously met Donatello.

Mikey, April, and Leo become friends and decide to start “fighting crime” together. Mona Lisa agrees to let them as long as they let her put protective enchantments on them first.

They go to track down the infamous paper thieves and run into the Foot Clan. Much to their shock, Draxum and Donatello are there as well. Donatello flips out because that’s the damn turtle that lost the ingredient to the mutagen and Draxum is confused because what the hell those are his turtles.

The Foot Clan gets away and Donatello starts fighting Leo because now this bitch let TWO people get away and Draxum breaks it up

That’s all I have figured out rn if I think of more I’ll come back to this

[spkyscry]

"Darling Lne'ta, dear," came Rhok'zan's voice, knocking on the pink door to her grandchild's room (but pointedly not respecting the boundary enough to hold off entering). "May I ask you something?"

"Oh, um, of course, Gram-Gram!" Ln'eta quickly replied, setting her portable game console aside and looking at the elder goddess quizzically. It wasn't every day she was visited for questioning, after all.

"What, ah, does 'serving' mean? I thought I knew, but I believe modern lingo has changed the definition." She asked, pausing when the priestess covered her tentacles in shock. "Would it help if I put it in the same general term as 'cunty'?"

Ln'eta let out some horrific noise between a paper shredder jamming and a pencil sharpener bursting, the tentacles adorning her face all pointedly curling in what can only be awkward shame.

"I, ah, wh-where did you hear..?" Ln'eta began, before hands immediately raised. "Don't tell me, nope, don't wanna know it."

Lne'ta's face was pointedly extremely bright, hands waving to dissuade any form of further explanation from her favorite Grandmother.

"Wh-Why don't you ask Estir?" Ln'eta asked, hoping to avoid this entire conversation. "She's much more active than I am, after all! I'm sure she knows modern lingo loads better."

"I feel like you're trying to get rid of me..." Rhok'zan surmised, hands on her hips as her displeasure was clearly shown. "Fine, I'll see if your sister is more cooperative about helping her family out."

With an indignant huff, the goat turned on hoofed heel to make her way across the infinite void to find wherever Estir's planet was hiding this time. Someone had to tell her, after all.

"O' y-vulgt-da..." Ln'eta murmured, a flick of finger shutting the door behind Rhok'zan. It felt like a few millennia just got cut out of her immortal life...

On the plus side? Now it's Estir's problem! She absolutely loved it when that happened. More time for her to try and beat her latest game, too!

[elxctrics]

"look up refinement in the dictionary and you see my face, asshole. i'm the epitome of class and style. i'm like a lord." he said, pursing his lips in thought for a moment, wondering what he had to do to actually become one to shut maddox up for good before shaking the thought from his head, turning back to him with a nod. "the answer is expensive. always. so don't spill shit on me unless you want your ass sued." he said with a laugh, taking another sip from his drink. "yeah i have dick insurance, gotta be a certain length and girth to get it and you definitely aren't gonna meet the requirements. especially after you put it through that paper shredder of a woman." he said with a shudder and a shake of his head. one trip into the creepy room of haunted baby dolls the girl kept in her home was enough to make him steer clear of her for good. "you sound like a little bitch, you know that? i don't know what you want me tell you. if you don't wanna be with her, dump her, if you wanna be with her, stay with her. it's fucking simple man, you're being a big wuss about it."

"oh i think i could pull that off, you want to come and take some lessons on etiquette with me? i mean i thought you would have picked up some refinement in paris." the male scoffed back at the other male. he had missed him, he would never say it out loud but he hadn't hung out with him as much as he should have done with how much time he spent elsewhere. "poor fucker, remind me to always check what fabric you're wearing." though he could afford to replace anything he might have ruined that belonged to the other. "you have dick insurance? no way! how did you do that i want my dick ensured, though it already survived bianca so maybe it's an unbreakable dick." that sounded more likely to him. "it's not about not wanting to be with her, it's the constant fucking terror that i'm going to fuck it up and trying not to shove something up my nose to cope with it."

[vampmilf]

back at work after almost 3 full weeks away and i. forgot how much i hate my apprentice 💀

[imashoe69420]

Those Eyes: Rise! Leo x OC

Author’s notes:

This is a story I’ve been envisioning for a few months now and I wanna share it. I hope you guys like it :) some notes though:

-the OC’s name is Lala.

-She’s black with an Afro that covers her eyes.

-This is a black person writing a black person so Ik what I’m talking about, I promise.

-I will draw her at one point to give a better idea of what she looks like (^^)

Warning: Mild Language

• • •

Lala’s P.O.V.

I take a long, deep breath, overlooking the city I grew up in.

New York City.

The Big Apple.

So popular yet so infamous.

I truly do love my city. I do. But so much has happened to me—by me—here that now I can hardly stand living in it. All I need is an escape away from everything and everyone: the Foot and their plans to bring back the Shredder, mutants running all over the place, Baron Draxum who’s just decided to work with them suddenly, all of it.

Although they’ve always looked out for me, I can’t subscribe to their lifestyle; their obsession with this “Shredder”. Everything was fine until then.

I stare down at my calloused hands and sigh again.

I don’t want to be a part of this anymore.

Suddenly, I hear something. It’s faint and quick —almost undetectable, but I know someone or something is there. Raising to my feet slowly, I peer over my shoulder and see paper ninjas and other foot recruits staring straight back at me.

“I’m not going back yet.” I say sternly. “Why can’t I spend a few hours by myself for once?”

The soldiers all look at each other for a second before one pipes up, “The Lieutenant wants to see you. He thinks you’re ready for the ritual.”

I shrug. “Cassandra wants it more. Give it to her.”

The soldiers again look at each other in confusion. Of course they didn’t know her name. No one knows anyone’s name except for mine. That’s always pissed me off. They hire new recruits and leave it at that. No names, no origins, no nothing. Just bored people trying to be involved in things they don’t understand.

“I said no.”

With that, I leap off the roof and sprint away. The soldiers quickly follow behind me, but I make my way into Chinatown where it’s not as busy this time of night, but tourists are still there eating and talking about the beauty and history New York holds. If only they knew the half of it.

I nonchalantly take a blue hoodie with the word “Cabbage” written on it in fancy Cantonese characters and slip it on as I only have a grey sports bra and black baggy sweatpants on.

“Hey!” A man yells, “You pay! No take!”

“Shit,” I swear under my breath and book it down the strip and into an alley where I camp out until I think he’s gone.

But once again, I hear the familiar rustling. I look up to see the paper soldiers rain down and corner me.

“Leave me alone!” I shout and put my fists up as I left my Yari (Japanese spear) at my apartment. “You’re all crazy! Get the hell away from me!”

Just as the paper soldiers leap toward me, they turn back into the confetti they once were. I fall and land on my rear in surprise.

I knew I was The Chosen.

This idea is quickly scrapped when I see the true culprit. I can’t make him out at first until he takes a couple steps toward me and offers a hand.

It’s a mutant.

*Third Person*

*An Hour Earlier*

“Leo, stop messing around and start distracting.” Raph facepalmed as his brother took a selfie with the flame-headed foot soldiers in the background.

The turtles had seen the two in a museum looking around seemingly with intent to steal another piece of the Shedder’s armor.

“Relax,” Leo dragged out the “a”, “I got this.”

He dropped down through the open skylight and landed awkwardly enough to trip and fall into a statue. The statue teetered until it fell as well, shattering into a million pieces.

“That’s good enough, I guess.” Donnie said, earning a snicker from Mikey.

The flame-heads spun around, the shorter one piping up, “It’s the turtles! We have to make this quick.”

The other flame-head nodded and faced Leo as his companion speedily and intricately folded three pieces of paper to form paper soldiers before running in the direction of the armor piece.

“Looks like I’m on the knight shift. Get it? Knight shift.” The blue clad turtle hinted at the knight statues as he chuckled to himself.

Ignoring his comments, the paper soldiers and flame-head rushed him. Leo swung his Ōdachi at the soldier to his immediate left and it fizzled into a familiar paper confetti. One of the paper soldiers landed a kick against his plastron. Leo slid back only to charge at the remaining two, them also being sliced into confetti.

The flame-head interlocked his fingers and raised them above his head in an attempt to pound the turtle into the ground. Leo dodged the attack and kicked the soldier in the jaw, forcing the flame-head to stagger backwards, but it’s mere seconds before the foot soldier hit the turtle with a devastating blow to the chest. Leo is shot back into wooden boxes full of ancient artifacts.

When he looked around for something to keep the flame-head distracted, Leo got a bright idea for a diversion and a pun. While the flame-head ran at him, Leo stood up behind a tall wooden box.

“Alright, I think it’s about time we—” he kicked the box containing a mummy toward his foe, “—wrap this up!”

Both the mummy and flame-head fell to the ground, the open box trapping them both inside.

Leo, again, snickered to himself, “Nailed it.”

“Leo!” Raph piped up in his ear piece. “He’s getting away!”

The turtle soon saw the shorter foot soldier running across the glass ceiling, something dark yet reflective cradled underneath his arm.

He made his way up and out of the museum, closely following behind the thief.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Mikey shouted as he and his other brothers caught up with Leo. He flung his Kusari-Fundō at the enemy, catching him as he attempted to cross another building. The armor piece fell into the alleyway below.

“I got it!” Leo announced before landing in the alleyway a little less awkwardly. He picked up the armor piece that looked like part of a crown or helmet. The blue clad turtle shrugged and began to make his way back to the rooftop until he heard someone yell.

“You’re all crazy! Get the hell away from me!” A woman’s voice rang into the night.

Leo soon spotted a dark skinned girl surrounded by paper soldiers. He glanced back at the rooftop to see if his brothers had also heard the commotion, but they were nowhere in sight.

The turtle soon charged for the soldiers and shredded the soldiers before they could acknowledge his presence.

He placed the blunt end of his sword against his shoulder and turned towards the girl with an outstretched hand. “Never fear, Leon’s here.” He quipped, but is soon shut up when the girl lifted her Afro from in front of her eyes and stares at him.

“Thank you.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leo was instantly taken aback by her visage. Her face adorned light freckles and a beauty mark above her left eyebrow. Her skin was clear—not a single bump or blemish. But what captivated Leo was her eyes. They were a light chocolatey brown, but they contained so much depth. Leo could feel how she felt and see things the way she did. He felt her fear and anxiety from the attack, but also the graciousness of being saved. He felt like he really knew her and that made his heart thump in his chest.

She was cute.

After what felt like hours, he broke from the spell he was under and retreated to the rooftops.

Shit, how long was I staring at her? He thought to himself as he regrouped with his brothers. It couldn’t have been that long, no way. She was staring back at me so it wasn’t that weird… was it?

“Earth to Leo,” Mikey waved a hand in front of his older brother’s face. “Are you good? What happened down there?”

Leo shook his head and masked with a mischievous grin. “Only saved a girl from some paper soldiers while you guys fooled around with Forehead Flambé. You know. Hero stuff.”

His brothers rolled their eyes before they began their journey back home. But that girl stayed in Leo’s mind.

Who was that?

Why were The Foot after her?

Why had her looks stuck him like that?

Most importantly, what was the probability in seeing her again?

• • •

I hope you guys liked this first chapter! Let me know if you want this to continue because I have a lot planned for this fanfic!

Stay safe and in good health!

-ℍ𝕒𝕟𝟟𝕒🫶🏾

[mythicalninjas]

A Hard Choice To Make - Part 1

"Go talk to him. It's the only way to wash your emotions away." April, the reporter of Channel 6, advise you.

"No!" Your eyes went wide "No, I won't!"

"Then do you want to live with it stuck into you for the rest of your life?"

You lower your head, not knowing what kind of response you should give besides this not-desired possibility. April is right.

Since you met the brothers—three years ago—you have created a strong family bond with all of them, specially with the fearless leader in blue who your heart shines for. You knew that something within you is brougth to life every time Leonardo is around, and it is kind of torture because you literally fell in love with this terrapin.

But there's a doubt haunting you: Is Leo with the same feelings about you? The objection behind it is almost invalid in your point of view. He is the leader of his group, known as being the only one who tries to keep his brothers in line, making decisions for each time they are out for patrol, dealing with the most heavy and difficult choices and moments throughout their adventures. And you... You are just a human as you always say.

You sigh, turning your eyes back at April "Ya know, I have no idea if he feels the same about me. I'm afraid of how he'd react from my declaration."

April leaves her desk, and sits next to you on the sofa in the living room of her apartment. "Y/N..." she said softly, landing her slender hand on your shoulder "Soon or late he will know; but if I were you, I would go talk to him. He won't figure it out alone". You nodded, staring at the floor again with your mind lost in an ocean of thoughts and emotions. "Try, Y/N. Do not let it consume you; or it will get worse" the reporter rubs your shoulder and embrace you in a comfort hug.

"Would you like me to talk to him?" She offered herself.

"No! No... I must be prepare myself first."

April let's out a soft giggle "Okay. Take your time, sweetheart. Call me if you need help." She smiled.

You let the comfort of her embrace take you completely as a help to try to kick out your anxiety, but your nervousness insists to stay. How would you say to the most respectable man that you're in love with? How would he reacts? Will he treat you in a bad or good way? You knew he wouldn't treat you like an idiot or something but even that you are not secure.

A few weeks has passed since April's advice.

You and Casey Jones were called by Chief Vicent to attend a meeting at NYPD police station for a debate about Shredder after his sudden disappearance in the day that Technodrome has appeared in the sky. And for your surprise you're not the only one who were invited.

Your mutant turtles best friends are there.

And speaking of them...

"Hey Casey and Y/N!" Mikey was the first one who came up to welcome you both as you enter in the police station. "Finally you're here! Chief Vicent is waiting for you" the young brother pointed at up stairs of the building.

You and Casey went quickly to the second floor.

Arriving there, Mikey pointed at one of the several rooms throughout the large corridor. From outside you could see three shells facing the only door of the small space, and your eyes shone. In the middle of the three massive terrapins, a blue and well-written kanji with a pair of katanas.

"Y/N? Are you coming or...?" Casey called, noticing your behaving.

You froze, desperate about what you would do with that handsome man a few steps away from you—actually standing on the other side of the table.

Gulping, you walked behind Casey as you both enter the room.

"Good evening, Casey Jones." the blond-haired woman nodded from the other side of the rectangular table, facing you both "And Y/N" she nodded again, sharing a polite smile. Other three pairs of eyes landed on you while you stand beside Casey "Hey, guys" Donnie waved with that cute grin he has. "Hey..." Raphael said with a neutral voice; and finally Leonardo who, as Chief Vicent, shares a nod and a smile.

Oh God, that smile makes your bones shiver.

"So what are the news, Chief?" Casey asked, leaning above the table to watch papers and pictures scattered above it.

"We got a prove that Shredder must be still alive" she continued "We have captured Karai who was with him in the day that Kraang has arrived on Earth for the first time, and has confessed that Shredder was teleported into Technodrome. It was the last time she has seen him" she finished, glancing quickly at Shredder's picture on her right side and then looked up at everybody there present.

"Wait, wait..." The hot head turtle interferes "Last time? But how? Karai and Shredder used to work together all the time! Perhaps she is laying-"

"We don't know, Raph." The leader cuts his brother, then Mikey continued "Or maybe Shredder is working for Kraang.", Donnie moved his body a bit to stand face-to-face with his brothers and continued "We do not know if all those suggestions are valid, but I fear what Mikey said. Shredder must be working for Kraang."

Chief Vicent nodded positively, leaning above the table "I wouldn't discard this possibility."

The idea of Shredder working for Kraang freaks you out. Shredder is known for being dangerous, and Kraang is known for being deadly; and the two of them together is a nightmare.

After a few minutes of silence, Casey questioned "So, what are we gonna do now?"

"Wait. For now." Chief Vicent responded, not breaking her eye contact with the Shredder's picture beside her, and the room was filled with Raph's indignation voice "Wait?! How much time of wait?!"

"Raph, more respect!" Leo punch his brother's arm, murmuring and shaking his head in disapprove by his brother's behaving.

You tried to not giggle by their brotherhood behaving.

"We don't know..." Chief Vicent replied "but all we can do now is use what we have available to find Shredder; and Kraang. I'm highly doubt that Shredder isn't on Earth. Maybe he was brought back by Kraang. As you said before, Donatello" she pointed "the atmosphere in Technodrome is toxic for those who have a normal cardiovascular system. Hardly Shredder would survive in that thing out there".

"There's an interesting point" Leo continued "But It's been months since his disappearance and till now no one has seen him. For sure, if someone have, they would warn us."

"Or they would help him" Raph participated one more time "We don't know if someone is his follower."

"You mean a new Shredder?" Mikey asked, surprised.

"I would freak out if it is true." You said.

"Me too." Chief Vicent agreed, sighing.

The worst nightmare of the boys is that another (or other) person ended up like Shredder. For sure someone out there have inspired themselves on that horrible assassin and perhaps will keep on doing his dirty work as a next generation of the Foot Clan. It must be happening in any city, state or country right now.

After two hours of debate, Chief Vicent has decided give a break, and then back to the reunion.

You are checking out your Pinterest in another small room of the building to spend some time. But your is mind busy thinking more about Leo than paying attention to the pics on your social media. You just scroll down, the pics passing through your phone screen quickly; then your mind focused in flashbacks of your conversation with April a few weeks ago.

You want to confess your love for Leonardo. You want to face him and say how much you love him.

But why are you feeling something negative inside you?

You sighed, without knowing what to do. Your eyes lift from the screen and scanned the small room around you. There's a desk with a deactivated computer in the left and a cupboard on the right. Cupboard? Why is it here in a office? Maybe this room is used like a kitchen. And speaking of it... where's the coffee machine and other stuff used by workers?

You shrugged, ignoring it and paying attention to your phone again.

"Y/N?" A familiar deep voice called from the door frame. You jumped and quickly looked up at the person.

Actually, at the turtle.

"Oh, hey Leo" you smiled, pretending you didn't got scared by his sudden apparence. But he was giggling a bit "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he came in, picking up a chair and sitting beside you.

Butterflies started to fly wildly in your belly.

"Come on, Y/N! Say something!" you thought. "So... How's things going?". "Really, Y/N?! Is it all you can say?!" You coursed at yourself.

Leo glanced at you and says confused "Um... Things are great. Thanks." he smiled.

Now is the time. You have to tell! You want to tell! But you're fucking afraid.

Your thoughts says to do not do it but your heart says yes. You took a deep breathe, rubbing your hands on your thighs nervously and finally looked up at him.

"Leo..." You called softly.

"Hm?" He looked back at you in the eyes. It seems that your heart will get out of your chest, and you could feel your cheeks burning.

"I...".

He just tilted his head, waiting for your answer.

"I... am gonna take some coffee. W-Would you like some?" That's it. You wanna punch yourself in the face.

He lift an eyebrow—at least you could see.

"Um... Yes, please". He answered, still suspicious about why are you acting that way. You got up from the chair where you were and walked out of the room, but before you could leave, Leo grabs your arm and makes eye contact with you, worried "Are you okay?"

"Why? Yeah! Why wouldn't I am?" You tried to act as normal as possible, but you couldn't hide it from him. This man can notice if something is right or not. And you fear that. You don't wanna mess your moment. You just want to relax with him, and not put more worry into him. Leo and his brothers are already dealing with Shredder's disappearance which is shaking them inside out frenetically. And the last thing you want is bother him with your love.

"I'll be right back." You gently released from his massive hand and left the room, leaving him alone.

"Damn, Y/N! What's wrong with you?" the whisper leaves your mouth and suddenly you bumped with another woman, hitting your shoulder with hers.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"Oh, no. It's okay" the red-haired waved, grinning "I must apologize, I was distracted".

"Don't worry, I was distracted too." You giggled, then kept on your way to find a coffee machine which you have no idea where it is.

For sure your thoughts are torturing and preventing you by something you wish to do. You've been hiding your love for Leo for almost three years.

After ask a cob where to find a coffee machine you finally have found it in somewhere on the third floor of the police station.

"Okay, Y/N. You can do this" you whispered while you fill almost to the top two cups with the dark liquid. "You can do this. You can do this..." You continued to repeat, trying to fill you with courage.

"I'm ready. I can do this!"

Picking up the two cups with dark coffee youheaded back to the small room where the handsome man is waiting for you.

Stopping beside the door frame—you can't see what is happening inside the small room—you took a deep breath and get yourself ready for the long-awaited moment of your life.

Smiling, you walked in.

And froze.

Leo was there, as you expected, but he was kissing the woman who you accidentally bumped early on your way to get the coffee.

Your heart broke like someone has ripped it out from you.

It seems that the world has fallen under you; your body falling into an precipice.

You prepared yourself for three years for nothing. All the worries, expectations, and hopes you used to have, all that moments you've spent practicing what you would say to your best friend, all the great moments you and him spent. Three years of your life were wasted.

Leo and the red-haired woman broke the kiss and directed their eyes on you, surprised. You have to admit that you saw a light blush covering on his cheeks.

"Oh, Y/N." He said, smiling "Allow me to introduce you my girlfriend".

You felt a knot forming in your throat.

"Y/N, this is Melissa. Melissa, this is my best friend, Y/N." He used his hand to mention you and his girlfriend while introduce you both.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." Melissa waved.

"Nice to meet you, Melissa..." You shares a small smile, hiding your frustrating, and waved back.

You take a step forward to place the cup on the small desk next to you. Some drops of the dark liquid slipped out from the object "You should drink before it gets cold, Leonardo." You simply said, trying so hard to not cry. The leader got surprised when you said his full name. It's rare to you do it. Since you both got intimate—as best friends—you started to say his nickname as you do with the others. He doesn't understand very well the reason of your sudden change.

"Um... Yes, I will". He pronounced every single word slowly, tilting his head a bit as he looks at you. Melissa noticed your uncomfortable expression and asked worried "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"No!" you screamed mentally. "Yes! I am. I gotta go. Sorry." You whispered the last word, turning and heading out of the room, leaving the woman and your best friend together. Your eyes starts to get warm and a wet feeling of tears disturbs you completely; you refuse to cry in front of important and serious people from this place. So you forced your legs to walk fast towards the exit.

You were so distracted that you almost bumped Chief Vicent. You gasped.

"Hey, Y/N. We're going to back to our reunion right now. Have you seen Leo? I can't find him anywhere." the blond-haired woman asked.

"He-*deep breath* He's in that room." You pointed at the door in the end of the corridor. C. Vicent lift an eyebrow, studying your facial expression.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

"No, I'm not!" You gulped as see Chief Vicent's eyes going wide by your anger, then you immediately completed, "I'm not feeling good..."

But before Chief Vicent had a chance to talk to you, you lower your head and ran away, the knot in your throat and the pain in your heart growing up wildly.

You couldn't stay in that building anymore, not with Leo there. Not with the news of his sudden dating with someone. All you want now is go home, lay down on your bed, bury your face into a pillow, and cry like there's no tomorrow—well, actually there's no tomorrow for you.

How much time Leonardo is dating? And why April didn't tell you about it? Or any of his brothers? Do someone know about his dating? Or does he didn't tell to anyone yet?

You don't wanna know.

Actually you couldn't blame him because he has no idea that you are in love with him.

And now you have to deal with a new reality.

[minshookie]

CEO!BTS Reaction to:

You flinching during an argument.

| !warning! | violence, unhealthy relationships, abusive relationship, yandere Bts, choking and sexual topics 18+, dubcon, oral [fem receiving & giving], strong language [Jimin has a potty mouth!!!] rough play.

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

| Requested [requests open]

A/N | the amount of time I’m taking to get these request done correctly is embarrassing i apologize. I hope you don’t mind that I turned this into a whole reaction and that it’s not fluffy...lmk if you’d like me to change it I certainly will.

Forgive me for mistakes, though this is edited.

Kim Seokjin...

“Ok well what was that out there?” He spoke ominously back turned to you. “I- we-.” Laughing at your lack of response, he cut you off. “You fucked up that’s what it was hun.”

“Come sit on the desk, I want to see you apologize for making me look like an idiot.” He spat the last part like it was disgusting on his tongue. Already in deep trouble you decided to follow directions for once.

Turing smoothly in his office chair, you could see the resentment in his eyes. “Go on.” You swallowed thickly, his angered glare drying your throat. “I’m sorry for....correcting you during today’s meeting.” He scoffed, “there was nothing to correct!”

“Jin you can’t always be right, if you took that agreement, you’d never hit anything close to pro-” “who’s the boss? Hm? Who’s name is on this desk you have your tight ass planted on?” Mistakingly you let your eyes roll out of pure annoyance.

“Well excuse me?!” He leans forward quickly out of his chair, causing you to fall opposite of him. Pens poke at your back, his name plaque digging into your arm. Evilly he grins in enjoyment. “Found your place yet?, you seem afraid...afraid I’d hit you?” Wide eyed you nod, trapped like a mouse under its predator. Every inch of confidence stripped as he glared deeply into you. “Good.” Before you could even process his statement, you were harshly distracted by his rough hand landing across your cheek. Your head turns the other way as your right cheek tingles and burns. Chuckling he grips your chin forcing you to look at him.

“Find your place, and if you’ve forgotten it, I can help you find it...just like that,anytime.”

Min Yoongi...

Watching in envy, you pushed miscellaneous papers into the shredder. What a bitch! You saw her watching Yoongi all day just waiting for him to go to his office. So she could prance in there, thong up her ass, low cut shirt...the works.

“Yah! Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Jumping in fear , peeking down you found out what you’ve been shredding. He shoved you to the side turning off the shredder. “All those papers we needed for next week’s evaluation and review meeting...” you looked from the shredder back to him shrugging nonchalantly. Already having Somebody in your boyfriends office flirting him into hard on, the last thing you need is more work. “We’ll go fucking print some more of them.” He demanded his face stiff. Jin never liked you, maybe you’ll have Yoongi fire him.

You walked holding the last remaining sheet fully intact for reference, did Jin really think you were going to the copy room? What a dunce. Ignoring the meeting in progress light you pushed the heavy door open. “Hey y/n I’m sorry we’re in the middle of something.” You could tell he was just laughing at something a tint of red on his cheeks. Him kicking you out...this should be the other way. This hurt. “Me?” You gasped. She turned her silky hair fanning. “Y/n when we’re done I’ll come find you Alright?” She spoke a little above a whisper.“Don’t speak to me.” You glared at her walking further into the office. Obviously she’s confused about her rightful place, and Yoongi is too.

“You, get out.” She stretched her eyes looking back and forth from you to Yoongi. “Now.” “Min you can’t let her kick me out.” She scoffed, “I’ll speak to you later alright.” He smiled warmly,She got up storming from his room. “Yoongi what exactly was that?” He sat back in his chair. “A meeting.” “A meeting with what her left tit?” He closed his eyes harshly at your vulgarity. “No a meeting with your colleague about her position.” He offers the seat in front of him, gladly you take said offer.

“But what you did was uncalled for.” Laughing he leaned forward onto the table. He beacons you to follow, leaning forward you fall right into his trap upset he gripped your face making your cheeks squish. “Don’t ever come back in my office acting this way again, understood?” Nodding the best you could. “Huh? Understood?” “Yeah!” He let go leaving a ache in his wake. Before going back he reached for you again instinctively you pull back as if he was going to strike you. “Hm, I don’t treat you that harsh but I will...keep testing me.” He finished, only coming close to fix your hair.

Kim Namjoon...

Another day held the same daily routine, wake up Joon, cook breakfast, clean get dressed and head to work, work, eat lunch in Joon’s office, work,go home, and restart.

Today Joon had lunch delivered, practically throwing his money like confetti paper, much to the delight of his employees. Both of you sat on the floor of his office, enjoying the home style take out in silence. Without noticing all your attention was being absorbed by your phone. “What’s so intriguing kitten?” Your fingers stopped in their place “just texting a friend.” You looked at him through your lashes before going back to typing. He closed his take out container, he finished his meal and sneakily proceeded onto yours. Surprised by your lack of protests he spoke again.

“Oh yeah? And whose this friend?” He mumbled still chewing. “Someone I might know?” You nodded in response, unsatisfied he got up going to wash his hands in his office restroom. “Their name would be helpful y/n.” Just from his tone alone you could tell he was nearing impatience. “He works here, I’m just helping him...explaining how the log in system works he’s locked out at the moment.”

Joon no longer cared for their name and you knew it. “Oh ‘he’?” You nodded, he came drying his hands with his initialed towels. “New guy...Choi?” You looked up fully for the first time in a while. “Yeah, Soobin.” He nodded,Sitting in his desk turning to some papers. Nothing left to say you looked back down at your massages. “I’d like you to eat though, I don’t want you going hungry.” He ordered you around like a father and you obeyed.

Chewing, you almost choked as Soobin sent a joke that you weren’t ready for. Joon raised a brow, “a funny one huh? Let me see.” He looked down at you hand out flat. Your eyes went doe, there is no way your letting Joon read this vulgar joke. Soobin would be out of a job just as quick as he got one. “C’mon let me see, don’t make me take it.” Maybe he’ll laugh about it too, you gave up the device.

At first he squinted before his eyes grew wide. “ ‘This copy machine looks like the one from those cheesy office pornos....let’s make one?’ Y/N this is who you’re waisting your time on?” Rolling your eyes you went back to your meal, annoyed he didn’t find the harmless joke amusing. “Joon he was joking, it’s not like he knows I’m dating someone.”

You felt wind brush past you and a crashing sound occurred from behind, startled you made eye contact. “I had half the mind to throw that piece of shit at your head.” His angered expression taking you aback, you must’ve forgotten Joon is the extremely jealous type. “Go get it, bring it back to me.” Slowly turning trying not to take your eye off of him, you retrieved the shattered phone. Harshly he took it from your hands. Tapping before turning it to you, “block him.” You flinched at his sudden hand movement. “Don’t flinch away from me, block the bastard, before I’m the one bending you over the copy machine.”

Jung Hoseok...

Slouching in the pool chair you observed as the other women splashed and paddled around like children. You don’t usually go to these types of things, and neither does Hoseok. But this time it was important, he was here solely to kiss butt with his new business partners.

He practically forced you to put on your swimsuit, fully planning on walking you around like a show dog for the evening. Crossing your legs you brought your straw to your lips. You’d planned on getting in the pool, but apparently you weren’t good enough for the other wives...or affairs in the pool at the moment.So to spare the embarrassment you decided to watch.

“Enjoying yourself?” Hoseok came behind you patting your head softly. “Hm I guess.” You placed your drink away. “Hobi I’m ready to go. home.” You pouted, his hand still on the chair he came to your side. “Home? We’ve just got here an hour ago.” Nodding at his true statement you turned to look at him. “Yeah...and now I’m ready to go home.” Rolling his eyes he squatted to your level. “C’mon baby, go make a friend in the pool, splash around yeah?”

“No, I’m tired.” He groaned putting his head on your shoulder. “Y/n, boo don’t be a brat, you wanna go inside, wanna find a bed for you?” “Hm will you stay with me?” He looked over his shoulder, “ah Bruce wants to talk cuts and coverage a bit more, I can show you to a ro-” “nooo hobi!”

Panicking he pinched you to lower your volume. The party in the pool ceased and all eyes were on you. You’d learned how to cheat the system,It usually didn’t take much pouting from you to get your way. “c’mon get up.” He pulled me roughly by my forearm almost making you trip over your feet. He pulled you into the spacious home, up the stairs and into a hall. “Here let’s go in this room hobi.” You could tell by the look on his face hobi didn’t come to rest.

“Do you get off on making me look like an idiot?” He spoke close to your face. “Hey, I told you i wanted-” he covered your mouth with his large hand. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, now shut up and get in that fucking room.” Meekly you followed his order. “I’m sorry hobi.” “Ah I said shut up!” You stood in the middle of the decretive room, “down.” Down on your knees before him he looked down disgusted.

“Now make my cock hard so I can teach you how to use your loud ass mouth correctly.” Hesitantly you leaned forward, he groaned loudly reaching for you making you backwards in response. “Quickly, and don’t you dare run away.” He grabbed your hair, now under his full control.

Kim Taehyung...

“Mm how does it feel being my right hand lady?”

“Well seems like I’m on top of you right now.”

“I love how smart you are baby.”

Taehyung had recently promoted you to his secretary, now you can’t help but be in his office all day. Dreamily he looked up into your eyes as you straddled him. “Round 2 huh?” He huffed making you giggle, “let’s not indulge Taetae.” You nipped at the shell of his ear, he gripped your ass tightly. “What else do you have to do, I distributed your work along all the employees you’re here to have fun!”

“Well the phone has been ringing like crazy let me answer at least one call!” You climbed off, your skirt still scrunched around your waist your panties to the side. “Ahhh the baby wants to feel like a big woman go on answer.” Smiling with accomplishment, you picked up the phone. “Hello this is y/n y/l/n, answering for Kim Taehyung.” It was actually another secretary on the line you took notes as he spoke. You felt so responsible you knew Taehyung would be proud, you looked over to see his approval only to find him not there.

Confused you held conversation, until you felt something warm glide along your thigh making you Yelp. “Ah I’m sorry, Mr Lee, repeat that?” In fear you looked under your desk, mischievously Taehyung winked at you. You went back to the conversation, as he lapped your heat. You were already so sensitive you wouldn’t last a minute more of this. “Stop it please Tae.” You hissed pressing the phone to your chest. He did the opposite, penetrating you with his longest digit. Curling his finger and assaulting your clit, if the lewd sound of slurping could be heard by you you knew it could be heard over the phone. Quickly you hung up, very upset you squeezed his head between your thighs.

“Cumming baby?” “No, quitting.” He pulled back confused “what?” You fixed you panties, pulling your skirt back over yourself. “I asked you to let me do one thing, and still you couldn’t keep off of me.” He crawled from under your desk. “Who was on the phone?” He asked dryly, you looked over your notes. “Mr Lee.” “Oh, he calls everyday for his boss they have nothing to offer so we have nothing to give.” You nodded making a note to avoid his calls. “Anything else?” He shook his head going back to his desk with a deep sigh.

Oh good grief, you huffed falling back into your chair, you’ve gotten upset with him and now he’s going to mope around. “TaeTae, please understand I do actually want to work, we’ve talked about this.” You spun your chair to look at him, he looked at you inquisitively. “Maybe you should go back downstairs, I don’t want to distract you.” You could feel your eyes stretching. “Tae! No it’s not that serious.” “No no, your cubicle is still empty, the largest one.” You crossed your arms. “You’ll get the raise you just won’t be here honey...maybe I’ll offer the position to Sana.” He turned from you to go in his computer. “No, I’m not going.” “Bye Y/n see you tonight.” He mumbled nonchalantly.

“No Taehyung.” He gave a grim chuckle. “Stop being hard headed, go fetch Sana for me will you....love you.” “No kim Taehyung, this is MY job!” The phone rung and you picked it up, “hello this is-” He came pulling the phone from you slamming it to hang it up you flinched harshly. “Y/L/N, I won’t ask you agin, get out or do what I promoted you here to do.” He looked into your eyes devilishly. You complied removing your skirt, playtime was over, you sadly knew your place. “Perfect girl.”

Park Jimin...

“I’ll beat your ass come here. Now.” You stood in his office doorway, fear quaking over you. “Y/n...now.” he leaned on his desk looking you up and down. You walked in to what seemed to be your demise. “The door, close it, lock it.” “Mr Park please.” He got up walking behind you and slamming the door before walking in front of you again. “Where the fuck! Were you.” You looked at him, head fogged unsure of an answer. “I-I Mr Park...I’ve been here at work since 3 AM actually...before you got here.” He laughed lightly.

“I didn’t want your schedule, I know your damn schedule, the meeting today’s meeting.” You toyed with your fingers, “OH...oh Mr Park I forgot you needed me I’m sorry h-how did it go?” “We fucking lost the deal, the information you dug up is what we needed and you were somewhere in LaLa land.” He dug his hands into his hair. “C‘mere.” He sat on the leather couch that decorated his office. “Please Mr Park, I’ll stay late and I’ll beg for another meeting date.” He shook his head “no, c’mere.” You stood still pleading with your eyes. “I’ll drag you by your cheap blow out, bring your ass here.” You shuffled to him, he pulled your dress bending you over his knee.

He pulled your dress up, “Mr Park what will your wife say?” You began to tear up, why would he choose you to give his violent love to. “Ha, she’ll say “fuck me harder” later tonight why?” You shook your head refusing to respond. “Look into the mirror.” You obliged. He pulled his hand up just stoping before it hit you causing you to shudder a jerk violently. “ Do you fear me y/n?” You nodded almost sobbing. “I’ve trained you well...head up...be a big girl.”

Jeon Jungkook...

The whole building was draped in a gloomy mood as Jungkook stalked about looking for something to nitpick. Earlier today you and Jungkook had a falling out on the way to work about how close you were getting with one of your male coworkers. And said coworker that just happened to be your cubicle neighbor. He rounded your area multiple times, chastising said coworker, sending him on errands and putting him down again and again.

Seeing how it was affecting the newbie, you finally turned to Jungkook. “Mr Jeon, can I speak to you.” “No.” He turned quickly before going back to chastise the frightened employee. “Slip up again, and I’ll make sure you’re looking at a deep fryer for the rest of your life Kang.” He whispered just loud enough for you to catch it.

“Mr Jeon please, for a minute.” He clears his throat leaving your area. Your face grew hotter by the minute, you got up going to talk to your distraught friend. “Hey, listen he’s all bark and no bite what do you need help with?” You smiled warmly remembering how it felt to be new in a place like this.

“Well every time I answer the phone and start the question pro-” a heavy hand lands on his and your shoulder “who said this was a social hour y/l/n” a sigh came from deep inside of you. “ Damn it Kookie-” “who? Excuse me?” His eyes widening. “Jungkook- Jeon- I’m sorry...I’m sorry Mr Jeon.” He eyed the two of you “hm...kang get to work, y/l/n you too.” He began to walk away. “Y/n I’ll send you an email, I really need help on this.”

“Email her I dare you.” You spun in your chair “Mr jeon please! He’ll never get better if I don’t.” He rolled his eyes taking off his glasses, “what was he trained for if he can’t use the damn computer?” Everyone in the office was watching the dispute. “Pft I was trained on any of this! I had you holding my hand the whole way why can’t he?” He started waking the other way, his face glowing crimson. “Get in my office, now y/n.” You sat turning to your work. “No Jeon. I won’t.” “Y/n you can come to my office, or clock out and go home for the rest of the damn month.” All eyes on you like this was some cheesy tv drama, you got up following him.

Once in the safety of his four walls you stood hands on your hips “why kookie, why you being a Jackass?” He turned to face you, anger evident. Swiftly he pulled you by your shirt “talk to me like that outside of this office space the way you did today one more time, and you’ll be begging me to fire you. Yeah?” You nodded earning a open palm slap to your cheek, “yeah? Open your slutty mouth like you did for Kang, am I understood?” “Yeah kookie.” Another slap, your cheek began to burn. “Yes Mr Jeon.” He lifted his hand making you flinch in his grip. “Lovely girl, now get out there, and leave Kang alone or else.”

[selfignitingimagines]

Stiles- If I Can’t Have You, No One Can (Obsessed Part 4)

A/N: When I was initally writing this series I had a set plan for where I wanted it to end and how. I was recently rewatching the last few episodes of season 2 and I got struck with some inspiration. Let me know down below if you guys want a part 5 so I can continue the series!

TRIGGER WARNING: Stalking, kidnapping

Here are the links for Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

“Right there!” Stiles cried, frantically gesturing toward the computer screen on his dad’s desk. “Stop! Stop! See? There he is again.”

They were scrolling through hours of security footage recorded at the hospital the night one of Matt’s victims was killed. So far, all they had managed to capture were shots of him with his back turned. This tape was no different. 

“You mean there’s the back of his head again,” the Sheriff told him. 

“Okay, but look. He’s talking to someone!”

Scott followed Stiles’ gaze. His eyes widened. “He’s talking to my mom.”

He hastily pulled out his phone out of his jeans and called his mom, hoping she would be able to confirm that it was Matt. Stiles tapped his foot nervously as they talked. His shoulders slumped in relief when he heard her say that Matt was the one she had seen. 

“Alright,” the Sheriff said when she hung up. He picked up a manila evidence folder from his desk. 

“We’ve got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site...”

“And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders,” Stiles said. “The trailer, the hospital, and the rave.”

“Actually four,” the Sheriff told him, flipping through the documents in the folder. “A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt a few hours before the murder.”

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, Dad, if one’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, and three’s a pattern, what’s four?”

“Four’s enough for a warrant.”

Stiles curled his fist in triumph. “We can find Y/n.”

“Scott, call your mom back. See how quickly she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Stiles, go to the front desk. Tell them to let Scott’s mom in when she gets here.”

 “On it.” Stiles nodded hastily and turned down the hall. 

His whole body was humming with adrenaline now. He had spent the whole night terrified, wondering what Matt was doing to you. Stiles knew you were probably betting on the fact that they would find you. After all, it was what he would have done in your situation. 

You have saved each other plenty of times before, and now it was his turn again. He knew he could do it, he just wasn’t sure what Matt would do to you in the meantime. 

Stiles had tried his best to protect you, but he knew it hadn’t been enough. He should have pushed harder when he suggested you go to the police the other night. He should have kept a closer eye on you at the party, but he had been too caught up in his own issues. 

He tried to shake off those thoughts as he walked down the halls of the station, telling himself that he still had time to make up for it. He had told you the other night that everything he did was to keep you safe, and that was still true. 

As he rounded the corner of the hall, Stiles realized that the officer on duty was no longer standing at the front desk. 

“Hello?” he called, looking around for her. 

That was when he noticed her black combat boot sticking out from behind the corner of the desk. He felt a shiver run down his spine, and he realized she was lying on the floor among a mess of fallen papers. Her eyes were wide open, but they weren’t moving, and her tan uniform was stained dark red with blood.

She was dead, but as Stiles took in the horrific sight, he also noticed another chilling detail. The holster on her hip was empty. Someone had taken her gun. 

Stiles stumbled back, turning around, only to come face to face with you.“Y/n?”

Tears were slipping from your eyes, and your lip was trembling. You looked terrified, standing there in your disheveled dress. It was the same one you had been wearing at the party last night.

Matt was standing behind you, one hand one your shoulder as he pressed the dead officer’s gun into your back. 

“If you make one move I’ll shoot her,” he told Stiles. 

Stiles reluctantly held up his hands. “Okay. Okay, fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed, but he shook his head. You had to know this wasn’t your fault. 

Matt kept the barrel of the gun pressed against your back as Stiles led you further into the station. He turned into his dad’s office, and you realized that the Sheriff and your brother were also there. 

“Y/n!” Scott cried. 

He started forward, but Matt ordered him to stop, waving the gun so he and the others could see it. 

“Matt,” the Sheriff said slowly. He held up his hands. 

“It’s Matt, right? Matt, whatever’s going on, I guarantee there’s a solution that doesn’t involve a gun.”

Matt’s lips curled into a sick grin. “You know it’s funny you say that, because I don’t think you’re aware of just how right you are.”

“I know you don’t wanna hurt people-”

“Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people. You four weren’t on my list, but I could be persuaded...and one way is to try calling somebody on your cell phone like McCall is doing.”

Scott ripped his hand out of his pocket, looking between you and Stiles apologetically.

“That...that could definitely get someone hurt.”

“Everyone?” Matt gestured with the gun, and you knew he was telling them to give up their phones. “Now!”

“Come on,” the Sheriff told the boys calmly. 

Stiles looked back at you. 

“Pretty sure he tossed mine out the window last night,” you muttered. 

Matt led the four of you to the tiny jail at the back of the station. There, he made Stiles handcuff his dad to a bench. You felt your stomach drop. Now the three of you were completely on your own with Matt.

He waved the three of you in front of him and forced you to walk up to the front of the station. As you passed by another hallway, you gasped.

Three other officers were lying in the hallway and all of them appeared to be dead. Their chests had been ripped open so forcefully that every wall around them was splattered with blood. 

You looked away, fighting the urge to vomit. 

“What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?” Scott demanded.

“No,” Matt said with a scoff. “That’s what Jackson’s for. I just think about killing them...and he does it.”

He forced you back into Stilinski’s office, where he made Stiles log into his dad’s computer. Matt had him delete every bit of evidence, including the video footage of him at the hospital. Scott was destroying the paper evidence in the shredder, including the shoe prints that would have matched Matt’s boots. 

Stiles glared at Matt from behind the desk, wanting to rip him apart as he stroked his fingers down your hair. He had forced you to sit next to him on the couch, and you were currently staring intently at the tiled floor. 

Stiles had already seen the bruises Matt had left on your throat. The only thing keeping him from jumping across that desk was the knowledge that Matt would have Jackson rip all of you to pieces at a moment’s notice. 

“Deleted,” he told Matt bitterly, gesturing toward the computer. “And we’re done. So, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it, because they killed you first-whatever that means-we’re good here, right? I’ll just get my dad and we’ll go. You know, you continue on the whole vengeance thing, enjoy the Kanima.”

Before he could respond, the glow of headlights swept through the windows. You could hear tires crunching on the gravel of the parking lot outside.

“Sounds like your mom’s here,” Matt told you and Scott.

“Matt, don’t do this,” you begged. 

“When she comes to the door, we’ll just tell her to leave,” Scott added. “I’ll tell her we didn’t find anything! Please, Matt.”

The sound of the metal door creaking open echoed through the station, and Matt grinned. “If you don’t move now, I’m gonna kill Y/n first, and then your mom.”

He pressed the gun up against your back, and Scott glared at him. Matt pulled you up by the back of your dress and gestured for Scott and Stiles to go first. 

“Open it,” he ordered Scott, when you had made your way back to the front lobby.

“Please,” Scott begged one more time.

“Open. The. Door,” Matt told him, enunciating each word carefully. 

Scott reached out, shaking his head regretfully. When he turned the knob, the door slowly creaked open to reveal the person standing there. It wasn’t your mom, but Derek Hale. 

“Oh thank god,” Scott breathed. 

But Derek simply stared at him. Then, he pitched forward and slammed straight onto the floor below. Jackson was standing behind him, half transformed. He held up one scaly hand, still dripping with clear venom, and stalked into the lobby.

Matt walked over and knelt in front of Derek, flipping him on his back. He was now completely paralyzed.

“This is the one controlling him?” Derek asked from the floor. “This kid?”

“Well, Derek, not everyone’s lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf.”

Matt straightened up, glancing between you, Scott, and Stiles. “That’s right! I’ve learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas...it’s like a freakin’ halloween party every full moon.”

He smirked. “Except for you Stiles. What do you turn into?”

Stiles glared at him. 

“Abominable snowman,” he snarked. “But it’s more of, like, a wintertime thing. You know...seasonal.”

Matt rolled his eyes, and in seconds, Jackson was swiping his claws across the back of Stiles neck.

“Hey!” you cried. 

“Bitch,” Stiles swore at Matt, before his knees went out from under him. He crashed onto the ground, right on top of Derek’s chest. 

“Get him off of me,” Derek growled. 

Matt laughed. “Oh, I don’t know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must suck though, having all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you’re not used to feeling this helpless.”

Derek glared up at him from the floor. “Still got some teeth. Scoot down here a little closer, huh? We’ll see how helpless I am.”

“Yeah, bitch.”

Stiles’ voice was muffled from being facedown against Derek’s chest, but you couldn’t help but smile. 

For the second time that night, headlights flashed through the windows of the sheriff’s station. You could hear another car pulling to a stop outside. 

“Is that your mom?” Matt asked. “Do what I tell you to, and I won’t hurt her. I won’t even let Jackson near her. 

“Scott, don’t trust him,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s shirt.

Scott remained frozen in front of the door, but Matt was impatient. He reached forward, snatching you by your hair and tugging you back against him. He wrapped his arm around your neck, squeezing against your windpipe and cutting off your breath.

“This work better for you?” he asked Scott.

You reached up, scratching at his arms, but he didn’t even flinch. 

“Okay, stop, just stop,” your brother begged. 

“Then do what I tell you to!” Matt spat. 

“Okay, alright, stop!”

Matt finally let you go, right as you were on the verge of blacking out. You hit the floor on your hands and knees, gasping and dizzy from the lack of oxygen. 

“You,” Matt said, gesturing to Jackson. “Take them in there. You two, with me.”

He yanked you up off the ground by your arm, and gestured for Scott to open the door as Jackson hauled Derek and Stiles out of the lobby. 

When the door finally opened, Matt pulled you behind the corner of the hallway. You could hear the door squeaking open, and your mom asking “Scott?”

You were trembling as Matt held you back against his chest. What would he do to your mom?”

“You scared me,” you heard her say. “Where is everyone?”

That was when Matt shoved you out in front of him. Your mom gasped your name. As far as she had known, you were still missing. 

When she saw Matt come out behind you and press the gun against your back, she froze. 

“Mom,” Scott told her nervously. “Just do what he says. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“He’s right,” Matt agreed. 

Then, he raised the gun, and shot Scott in the stomach. You and your mom both screamed, but as she rushed forward, Matt pointed the gun at you. 

“But I didn’t say I wouldn’t hurt him.”

Scott was holding himself up using the wall, just barely managing to not fall to his knees. He had one hand pressed against his side, and blood was beginning to pool through his shirt. You knew he would heal from the gunshot wound, but your mom didn’t.

She tried to step forward, but Matt waved the gun.

“Back! Back!” he ordered. 

“Mom,” Scott choked. “Mom, do it. Please mom.”

You could hear Stiles' dad from all the way at the back of the station. He had undoubtedly heard the gunshot. 

“Matt! Matt, listen to me-!”

“Shut up!” Matt roared. “Shut up! Everybody shut the hell up!”

He gestured to Scott before training the gun back on you. “Get up, or I shoot your sister next.”

“Please,” your mom begged. Tears were running down her cheeks. “He needs to see a doctor.”

Matt tilted his head. “You think so?”

“It’s alright,” Scott insisted. “I’m okay.”

“No, sweetie, you’re not,” your mom insisted. 

She began to babble about how he was just feeling the adrenaline, how he needed to get to the hospital. You looked over at your brother, and he met your eyes. There was no way he was going to be able to keep his secret after this, provided you all made it out alive.

“They have no idea, do they?” Matt asked you. 

You didn’t answer him. Your mom was still trying to convince Matt to let her take Scott to the hospital. 

“Lady, if you keep talking, I’m going to put the next bullet in her head.”

He raised the gun to your skull. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt the barrel of the gun against your skin.

Your mom took a deep breath, and held up her hands. Tears were streaming down her face, leaving wet lines of black mascara. “Okay...okay.”

Matt shoved you in front of him, pushing you down the hall. He paraded you back through the station, and locked your mom into the cell next to the bench Stilinski was cuffed to. 

When Matt shut the cell door, your mom reached out through the bars, grasping your hand tightly. “You’re okay?”

You nodded, tears slipping from your own eyes. “I’m okay. Stiles and Scott made sure I was safe.”

“Back to the front McCall!” Matt barked. “Both of you!”

You glanced back at your mom reluctantly as Matt shoved you in front of him. He walked behind you and your brother as you headed out into the hallway. Then, he herded you into the station breakroom. 

There were a few tables and some chairs, but even though you were exhausted, you were too afraid to sit down. Scott leaned against one of the tables, still grasping his bloody side. You guessed the wound wasn’t fully healed yet. If the bullet hadn’t exited, it wouldn’t be able to close unless someone pulled it out. 

“The evidence is gone,” Scott told him. “Why don’t you just go?” Matt raised his eyebrows. “You really think the evidence mattered that much? No. No, I want the book.”

“What book?” Scott asked him,

“The bestiary!” Matt snarled. “And not just a few pages. I want the entire thing.”

“I don’t have it. It’s Gerard’s. You told him that, didn’t you?” He was looking at you now. You shrugged. “I tried.”

Scott glanced back over at Matt. “What do you need it for, anyway?”

“I need answers.”

“Answers to what?”

Frustrated, Matt yanked up the edge of his shirt, revealing his scale-covered side. “To this!”

Scott’s eyes went wide. If Matt was turning into another kanima, there was nothing stopping him from killing whoever he wanted. When you looked at your brother’s face, you had the sneaking suspicion that you two would be next on his list. 

------

Stiles laid on the floor of the station, staring up at the ceiling. The tiled floor was cold against his back, which was a welcome relief considering sweat was dripping down his neck. He wasn’t sure whether it was just hot in the station, or if he was nervous. If he was being honest, it was both. 

He and Derek had been lying there for what felt like hours, but Stiles knew it was probably only thirty minutes. 

“Hey,” he said, breaking the silence. “Do you know what’s happening to Matt?”

“I know the book’s not gonna help him,” Derek said grimly. “You can’t just break the rules. Not like this.”

Stiles tried to look over at him from the corner of his eye. 

“What do you mean?”

“The universe balances things out. It always does.”

“Is it because he’s using Jackson to kill people who don’t deserve it?”

“And killing people himself,” Derek added.

Stiles thought for a moment. “So if he breaks the rules of the Kanima, he becomes the Kanima?”

“Balance,” Derek agreed.

“Will he believe us if we tell him that?”

“Probably not.”

Stiles sighed. “Okay, he’s gonna kill all of us once he gets that book, isn’t he?”

“Yep...except for maybe Scott’s sister.”

Stiles gritted his teeth. “I’m gonna kick his ass the second I can move again.”

“That’s a great way to get her throat ripped out too.”

Stiles didn’t respond. He knew Derek was right, but a part of him wanted to go after Matt without thinking about the consequences. He knew he had left those bruises on your neck. He knew that the minute you shattered Matt’s fantasy, he would kill you too. He had to do something before that happened. 

“I know you’re in love with her.”

Stiles swallowed at Derek’s words. “Maybe.”

“I can tell. I know you’d do anything to save her, but right now, we need to be smarter.”

“Alright,” Stiles relented. “So what do we do? Do we just sit here and wait to die?”

“Unless I can figure out a way to push the toxin out of my body faster, like triggering the healing process.”

“Wha-”

He glanced down, only to realize that Derek’s claws were now protruding from his fingers. They had grown into his jeans, right into his skin, where blood was beginning to ooze.

Stiles gagged. “Oh, gross.” 

-----

Back in the breakroom of the station, Matt shook his head, letting his shirt fall back down. He glanced between you and Scott.

 “You know, I feel sorry for you guys. Cause right now you’re probably thinking ‘How am I gonna explain this when it heals?’. And the sad part is, you don’t even realize how incredible it is that you are healing. Cause you know what happens to anyone else when they get shot? They die!”

You and Scott exchanged uneasy glances.

 “Is that what happened to you?” your brother asked.

Matt was silent. He was staring at the ground, but he didn’t look as vicious as he had earlier. He actually seemed kind of tired. Scott seemed to notice this too, so he continued to press. 

“You drowned, didn’t you?”

“He shouldn’t have let them drink,” Matt muttered, still staring at the floor.

“What?” you asked. “Who? Matt, what do you mean?”

“Lahey!” He suddenly exploded. “He shouldn’t have let them drink.”

You flinched back, closer to your brother.

“What?” Scott asked. “Who was drinking?”

“The swim team, you idiot! I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know they had just won State…”

You and Scott listened to Matt as he went on and on. He explained how, when he was in eighth grade,  he had been heading over to Isaac’s to trade comics. Mr. Lahey was throwing a party for his swim team and letting them drink around the pool. All of Matt’s victims had been there. Tucker, Cara, Bennett, even Jessica and Shawn, the married couple.

 They were joking around when Matt came into the backyard, tossing each other into the pool. Isaac’s brother Camden decided to throw Matt in too. They didn’t know he couldn’t swim.

“And the next thing I know, I’m lying by the pool,” Matt explained. “And Lahey’s standing over me, and he’s saying ‘You don’t know how to swim? What little bastard doesn’t know how to swim? You say nothing. You tell no one.’ And I didn’t.”

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I would wake up every night, gasping for breath. My parents thought I was an asthamatic. They even got me and inhaler. They didn’t know that everytime I closed my eyes, I…I was drowning.”

He was silent for a few moments, and then he looked back at you and Scott. “And then came Kate Argent’s funeral.”

His lips began to curl into a smile as he explained how he had realized he and Jackson were bonded. 

“I was taking some photos, and then, purely by accident, Lahey gets in one of them. I looked down at my camera, and I just had this unbelievable rage that filled up inside of me. I looked at him and I just...I wanted to see him dead.”

Matt let out a disbelieving laugh. “And the next day, he actually was! You know, Einstein was right. Imagination is more important than knowledge. It was like something out of Greek mythology, like...like the Furies coming down to punish Orestes.”

He looked over at Scott, who was staring at him, dumbfounded. Matt rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”

Scott swallowed. “Was that...was that the guy that stabbed out his eyes.”

“That’s Oedipus, you dumbass!” Matt barked. 

His gaze snapped over at you. “You know what I’m talking about don’t you?”

You nodded carefully. “The furies were deities of vengeance, weren’t they?”

 Matt nodded. “Their tears ran of blood and they had snakes for hair. If there was a crime that had gone unpunished, the Furies would do the punishing. Jackson is my Fury. You know, when I saw him the next night, I knew he had killed Lahey for me, and I knew he would do it again.”

Matt began to smile to himself again. “So I went to Tucker’s garage. I even paid for an oil change, and guess what? He didn’t even recognize me! So when he wasn’t looking, I took a shot of him with my camera...and in a few hours, he was dead. So I took more pictures. All I had to do was take their picture, and Jackson would take their life.”

You glanced over at Scott, who looked just as concerned as you were. Matt was giving no indication that he would stop the killings. You were pretty sure that he and Stiles were next on his list. 

Scott opened his mouth, maybe to try and convince Matt to let you all go, but he never got the chance to speak. The thick, acrid smell of smoke filled the air, and suddenly the room was engulfed in a white cloud. 

Sirens began to wail, echoing through the halls of the station. They let out a sharp, bleating sound that hurt your ears.

“What is this?!” Matt demanded. “What’s happening? What’s going on?!”

He suddenly reached out, snatching you by the arm.

“I don’t know!” Scott cried. “Y/n, where are you?”

“I’m right here!” 

He reached out, trying to see if he could grab you, but Matt yanked you backward against him. He pressed his gun against your side and forced you out the nearest exit.

Bright yellow emergency lights began to flicker, illuminating the breakroom. Jackson passed you and Matt as you left the room. He was headed right toward Scott. You tried to pull out of his grasp, but he dug his nails into your arm. 

“Scott!” you screamed.

“I’ll have Jackson rip your mom apart next,” he snarled. 

He dragged you through the halls of the station, keeping the gun pressed tightly against your side. The smoke was starting to dissipate now, and the flashing lights ensured that Matt knew where he was going. 

He shoved open a door and hauled you into a darkened garage. The long room was bordered by bay doors on one side. A few desks littered the room, but it was mostly filled with police squad cars or transport vans.

Matt dragged you past tool carts and spare tires, and you struggled not to trip.

“Please, Matt,” you begged. “Just let me go.”

“Shut up!” Matt snapped. He looked around frantically until he spotted a door with a glowing, red exit sign. He pushed you toward it and forced you outside. 

Cool air hit your face as you stepped out into the night, but you didn’t have time to appreciate it. He broke into a run, keeping one hand on your arm as he pulled you further from the building. Panic began to build in your chest.

  A couple hundred yards ahead, the clearing you and Matt were running through ended with a line of trees. There was a small creek running at the edge of it. Farther downstream, a bridge crossed over the water. Matt began to pull you in the opposite direction. 

Suddenly, you stumbled, falling onto your knees in the grass. Matt reached down to haul you up, but when his guard was down, you knocked the gun out of his hand. It landed somewhere in the grass, and he was unable to see where it went in the dark. 

You scrambled onto your feet as Matt felt for the gun in the grass, but when he realized you were running, he abandoned it. 

“No!”

He tackled you to the ground before you could even make it five feet away, and the impact knocked the wind out of you. 

You squirmed, but he quickly pinned you down into the grass. 

“Get off me!” you gasped, but his hands were pressing your wrists into the grass. 

He smiled down at you, but there was an empty look in his eyes. Your heart began to pound even harder against your chest.

“Do you remember when I said that I’m not the type of guy that’s gonna say something like ‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’?”

You writhed under him, but your exhaustion had caught up with you. He was much stronger, and now that he was turning into another kanima, you didn’t have a chance of fighting him off.

Matt didn’t wait for you to respond to him. He just kept talking and grinning down at you with that sick look in his eyes. 

“See, that’s not entirely true,” he mused. “Because, Y/n, if I can’t have you. No one can.”

Then his hands were on your neck, squeezing. You fought him, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. He was going to kill you. 

You reached up, scratching at his hands and wrists. You could feel his skin peeling away under your nails and the warm, wet blood you were drawing. Still, it wasn’t enough. 

Your vision was beginning to cloud. Your attempts to fight him off were growing weaker by the second. All you could think of was Stiles. 

The two of you always seemed to be saving each other in one way or another. This time, you had hoped he would be able to rescue you, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. You knew there was no use in hoping for anything else. 

Instead, you tried to think about something good. As your mind wandered, you thought of Stiles’ honey brown eyes. You thought of the surprise and delight on his face when you said something funny that he hadn’t expected. You remembered the way he had kissed you the night at the rave, his hands warm on your cheeks. 

Everything was beginning to go dark, but you were content. You swore you could hear Stiles’ voice, warm and soothing...and then it was gone. 

You opened your eyes, taking one painful, gasping breath. Matt’s weight was no longer on top of you. You rolled over onto your side, desperately sucking in air as you struggled to lift yourself up into a sitting position in the grass. 

You looked around, wondering what had happened. That was when you saw Matt being dragged down the hill by Gerard Argent, of all people. You didn’t understand what was happening at first, but then, Gerard threw him down into the bed of the creek. 

Gerard waded out until he was knee-deep in the water. Then he grabbed Matt by his t-shirt and thrust his head under water. You watched, horrified, as he drowned him in the creek. 

That was when you ran, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to make sure Gerard wouldn’t follow you. He didn’t even look up. Either he would come after you later, or he just didn’t care.

You sprinted past the bridge, only to have a pair of arms reach out and snatch you back. You opened your mouth to scream, but a hand clamped down over your lips, muffling the sound.

You were pushed up against the side of the bridge, the rough stone scraping against your back. When you saw who had grabbed you, your eyes went wide. It was Peter Hale.

It suddenly crossed your mind that maybe you hadn’t escaped Matt in the clearing. Maybe you were dead. Maybe that was why you were face to face with Peter, whose throat Derek had slashed open last month. 

He held one finger to his lips as he stared down at you, and while you should have been terrified, you had the odd feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“Watch,” he said quietly.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around, forcing you to look back at Matt and Gerard. You could see Matt’s motionless body floating in the water. Gerard was now standing up on the bank of the creek, his clothes still dripping wet. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. It didn’t seem to matter, because what you saw next told you everything you needed to know. 

The Kanima was creeping out from the shadows, wandering toward Gerard on its hands and feet. Instead of running, Gerard lifted one arm and raised his palm. The Kanima moved closer, hesitantly. Then it lifted up one scaly, clawed hand, and touched its palm to Gerard’s.

He was now its master. 

“Go,” Peter urged in your ear. “Tell your brother what you saw.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “Why?”

A smile played at the edge of Peter’s lips. “I have a feeling we’re all on the same team now.”

He let go of your shoulders and you slowly backed away from him, keeping your eyes trained on his shadowy form the entire time. When you were a few yards away, you turned your back and took off running toward the station.

Your chest was burning as you raced back toward Scott and the others. When you pushed open the doors of the station, several officers whirled around and trained their guns on you. You guessed Stiles’ dad had called for backup at some point. 

As you threw up your hands, you were able to see the Sheriff, your mom, and Stiles all standing in the lobby.

“Y/n!” Stiles cried. “Oh thank god.”

The officers lowered their guns, and Stiles rushed over. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. You froze in his arms, not quite sure how to handle his touch. The feeling of being caged against him made your skin crawl. Though you hated to admit it, it reminded you of Matt.

He pulled away suddenly, realizing you weren’t reciprocating. 

“Hey...are-are you okay?”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The lights of the station were too bright, and the sound of the deputies’ boots thumping on the floor caused you to flinch. You didn’t even know where to start.

Stiles watched in shock as you suddenly burst into tears. He wanted to reach out and hold you, but by the way you had just reacted, he was afraid to touch you. 

“Oh, uh…”

Before he could think of anything to say, your mom rushed over and put a hand on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet, Sweetheart.”

She cast a sympathetic glance in Stiles’ direction and led you down the hall. The Sheriff followed after the two of you, no doubt planning to take your statement. Matt was nowhere to be found, and Stiles was willing to bet you knew what happened to him.

He wanted to follow, but he knew if he did, his dad would just kick him out of the room. You were a witness now, and they would need an official statement from you. 

Scott came jogging down the hallway. Stiles realized he must have heard you come back.

By then, the door to the office you had disappeared into was shut. 

Scott headed over to Stiles. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles admitted. “But I don’t think your sister’s okay.”

[elytra404]

Did a writing challenge with friends, random au generator go! I got ttrpg au, and chose miraculous as my fandom. I limited myself to 500 words as an extra challenge!

Ladybug flung her yoyo across the city, landing gracefully next to her boyfriend, a tabaxi. The two stood in-front of a large red dragon. Behind them gathered their team, from the fox-skin wearing Rena to the high elf Queen. Ladybug grinned and nodded to all of them.

"Maybe we could get a bit of help here, aye gang? Lucky charm!" Ladybug threw her yoyo into the air, pink dust surrounding her. It swirled around her, alerting even the weakest detect magic spell in a twenty mile radius.

"And thats a.. nat one." Marinette slammed her head against the table. Alya burst out laughing, holding her side as she leaned back in her seat. Adrien pursed his lips, holding in his own laughter. Even Chloe looked up from her doodling to snicker.

"As the magic swarms you, your spell works perfectly. It is magical and fantastic. As the ritual ends, a spork clatters on the ground in-front of you" Alix explained. Nino copied Marinette's previous action.

"A SPORK?" Alya almost screeched through her laughter. Adrien broke, doubling over. Marinette shot him a false sad look.

Ladybug picked up the spork tenderly, ignoring the laughter of her team. She glanced around, focusing on anything she could use to help. She saw nothing. With a sigh, she tucked the spork into her belt and began to spin her yoyo.

"Chat, don't cataclysm yet. Only a last resort, we still want loot. Queen, how much you wanna bet we can beat this thing in 5 minutes?"

"Chloe, roll to sting the dragon! You can use your acrobatics modifier."

"If this is another low roll I'm going to put those dice in a paper shredder."

"That's a 11 plus 5, how does a 16 do?"

Queen ran towards the beast, calling upon her weapon. Queen slingshot her spinning top towards the beast, wrapping it around one of the dragon's horns. She landed on its head, stumbling back as she rapidly patted her flaming sleeve. She dropped the spinning top skillfully, freezing the dragon in place. The rest of the party could hear screeching as her silk shirt burnt.

"Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!"

"Hey, at least it's paralyzed now!" Alya noted. Adrien and Marinette nodded, smiling. The party had begun early on to figure out how to use their powers and item's together. From Rena's rouge spells to Ladybugs yoyo, Carapace's prized shield to Chat Noir's destructive gloves. They worked smoothly together. Excluding when the dice failed them.

"What if we just cataclysm-ed it? Pretty please?" Adrien asked, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. Four voices instantly sounded in a resounding 'no'.

Carapace grinned, holding his shield in the air. It began to glow, a protective shield building around it. In a flash of light, it was gone. The party could see the green light peaking through the dragon’s scales in its throat. Rena blinked aggressively, a smile forming on her face.

“Last to the hoard gets cataclysm-ed!”

“We never should have given you those gloves!”

link to my friend who also posted theirs!

[gnosticreign-a]

@kohlapsar asked: questions for the mun - i am asking youuu the first question from each section ! :y

Questions for the mun. | accepting!

When did you first start writing?

ehhhh i wanna say 13 years old? on paper with pencils and pens. i was introduced to tmnt and for some reason i wanted to write fanfic. but i wanted to also be a part of it. ironically, the self-insert i had for that was just as shallow as literally everyone else, but it did get me started on my love of writing. i just had to learn.

What is your favorite canon muse?

on this blog, i guess it might be diluc, but i also think it's because i've projected some things onto him, both from myself and character archetypes i've much enjoyed.

as a whole, it's hard to choose, but i can at least give a handful. donnie, shredder raph, miketrap...okay so they're all canon divergent in a few ways, but shhhh.

let me put the rest under a readmore, because things do get more nuanced from there.

Who was your first OC?

honestly, this is also even more hairs to split.

there was one from a batch of my very first writings who began to show more of a personality over time, and eventually she became a longer-lasting oc, until i eventually wrote an original story for her. unfortunately, as i shared her and even rp'd her on tumblr to return her to her fandom-based origins a bit, things began to stack onto her that i hated associating with her.

people godmodded her. one even wrote in/ce/st about her and her goddamned daughter. they acted like they knew her more than i did. eventually, she no longer felt like my character, but a stranger. i still have everything for her, but i couldn't look at her the same after that point onward.

ironically, she wasn't even the self-insert of that group of characters. she just happened to develop a personality first.

HOWEVER. if you want to talk about the character i first called an oc and had the term for it, that would be roza. she was also the first self-insert that i'd made simply because hee hee hoo hoo comphet feelings.

In what fandom did you start?

that would be the tmnt fandom, both for writing and rping!

What are you looking for in a ship?

honestly, you have to hit that wire just right for me to talk for ages about a ship. i don't know how, but it really just happens sometimes, with some ships sticking to a wall better than others.

What are the trends when it comes to writing that you adore?

post-length icons are a blessing, honestly. you get a lot of room to express yourself on them, and it really helps with designing a vibe sometimes.

not sure what else i can come up with trend-wise off the top of my head tho.

[heyheydidjaknow]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a story where the reader and 2012 Leo are best friends and after Leo wakes up in the farm house he tells her that he doesn't think he's a good enough leader and she says something like "you'll always be good enough for me" and kisses him? Sorry if it sounds stupid

Not at all. I hope this lives up to your expectations. It’s a bit shorter, but I wanted to have it done for you ASAP, so here ya go.

‘He’s been working himself too hard.’

You rest your head on your knees, staring at the television. It is not your place to criticize him—people deal with these sorts of things differently, you know—but you cannot shake the feeling that there is something you can do to help him, if only somewhat. You have elected, for the most part, to stay out of it, to let his brothers help in his recovery, but…

You get up, shutting the television off.

It is about three in the morning. You spend a lot of nights up at odd hours, now. As much as you have come to love the guys—Leonardo in particular—you miss the privacy.

You hear a knock on the wall.

Your eyes shoot to the door, a hand going to your chest. “Leo.” You sigh, trying to remember how to breathe. Since you have known him, you have become infinitely more skittish.

“Oh, did I scare you?” He rubs the back of his neck, leaning into his cane. “Sorry. I thought I was the only one up.”

His voice is taking you a bit to get used to. It is not a downgrade, but it still feels strange, matching it with his face. At least the rest of his body—now covered in more little scars than you can count—matches his damaged larynx.

“N-not at all,” you lie. “Same here, actually.” Your fingers find the switch again. “Did you wanna-?”

“No, I’m alright.” He limps over, sitting down on the couch. “Were you going to bed?”

“Nah.” You sit down next to him. “Just zonin’ out.”

He pauses. “Can I talk to you about something, then?” His tone is oddly tentative as he leans back, sinking into the cushions with a gentle sigh.

You blink. “Of course, man.” You turn to face him properly. “What’s up?”

He looks straight ahead, apparently stealing himself.

“Leo,” you press gently, “is something up? Actually?”

He sighs. “Am I a bad leader?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Am I a bad leader? Be honest.”

You try to think of how to answer that question properly.

“You think I am.”

“What brought this up?”

“Answer my question first.”

“Leo,” you say simply, “there is no possible way I could answer that question in a way that you would be happy with.” You take his hand, lowering your voice. “As your friend,” you promise, “you have my full support, but I need to know what brought this up before we proceed.”

He does not meet your eyes. He takes another breath.

“I failed you.” He says it simply, factually. “I failed my brothers, my sensei, you. You can’t say I didn’t,” he cuts your objection off calmly, “because you know that, if I were a better leader, we would still be in New York right now and they wouldn’t be miserable.”

You do not say anything. You keep holding his hand gently, letting him talk.

“If I were more forceful in my decision,” he goes on, “we would have all gotten out on our own terms, Splinter wouldn’t be…” He shakes his head.

His hand is trembling in yours.

“And,” he continues, “I know that the other guys think it too.” He leans forward, holding his head in his free hand. “I mean, look at me.” He chuckles half-heartedly. “I can’t even walk on my own, let alone lead a team.”

You let him finish, get it off his chest.

“I can’t go to the others about it; how could I?” He sits back up. “Honestly,” he shakes his head, “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about it.” He looks over at you. “You probably think I’m weak, right? I would if it were me.”

You look down at his hand in yours.

“Are you going to say anything?”

“Are you alive?”

He blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“Are you,” you repeat, “or are you not alive, sitting next to me on the couch?”

“Barely.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

He hesitates, then nods.

“Your brothers? Casey? Me? Are we all alive?”

“Master Splinter—”

“We aren’t talking about him right now,” you cut him off. “Are we alive or not?”

He nods again.

You pause, trying to phrase your next question correctly. “When we were being assaulted by the Kraang,” you ask, “who led them away?”

“Who got defeated by Shredder?”

“You mean the ninja master with decades of experience who needed to send an army before him so you were weak enough to get taken down by his best men, who you would’ve decimated otherwise?”

“You don’t—”

“I do,” you say determinedly. “Would a lesser leader have put himself in harm’s way for his team?”

“They’re my brothers.”

“So? Answer the question.” You hear your voice rise.

He pauses. “Selflessness doesn’t make a good leader.”

“You’re right.” You squeeze his hand, voice as firm as ever. “It’s a leader’s job to ensure the success and wellbeing of his team, which you did.” You put your hand up to stop him from denying the statement. “You did all this, might I add, while being actively targeted by two groups who, on paper, should dominate you in intelligence, wisdom, and resources. Logistically,” you conclude, “ we should be dead.”

You take a deep breath, softening your tone. “Do you know why we’re alive and talking right now?”

He does not say anything.

You reach over with your free hand, fingers tracing his jaw as you tilt his head to face you. “The reason,” you lock eyes with him, the only sounds either of you can hear being your voice and his breathing, “that we’re sitting on this couch, alive, is because you pushed us, because you lead us better than any man I can think of.”

“But Splinter—”

“Splinter is your senior by almost four decades,” you remind him simply. “You can’t account his failure to yourself.”

‘His eyelids look so heavy.’

“Stop doubting yourself.” You lean closer to him, sliding your thumb across his cheekbone, eyes grazing his features tenderly. “You haven’t the right.”

You do not remember who leans into who.

You feel his fingers lace with yours as your lips meet, the contact soft, gentle. His free hand rests gently on your hip as you feel his lips curl upwards.

Your own lips tingle as you pull away, your face flushing as you feel your breathing deepen. His face is similarly pink, a bashful smile gracing his face as you brush the hair out of your eyes.

“Thank you,” he breathes. “For everything.”

You offer a shy smile in return. “Don’t mention it, man.” You clear your throat, placing your hands on your lap. “I should—uh—probably get to sleep.”

He nods, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I think I’ll sleep out here tonight.”

You stand up. “Want me to turn the TV back on?”

“I’m good.” He looks up at you. “Y/N?”

You raise your eyebrows, ignoring your pounding heartbeat. “Yeah?”

“Was that…”

“Out of pity? No, it wasn’t.” You kiss the top of his head as you walk past. “Sweet dreams, Leo.”

He feels his face become hotter still as he watches you leave, licking his lips absentmindedly.

He feels his smile widening. ‘What a girl.’

List of Works

[horribletestsubject]

Fic I just wrote based on These Two art pieces that I’ve drawn and THIS POST by @body-utensil-travels-terrain

———

You’ve spent your life being told you couldn’t. Now there’s a voice telling you that you can.

You remember it distinctly. You were fourteen at the time, just really starting to figure out what you wanted to do with your life (it certainly isn’t what society expected from you— but then, society doesn’t expect someone like you anyway, does it?) when you first heard her voice over the radio in your living room. The words she said resonated with you, the promise and ambition that she spoke with. It was almost like she was talking directly to you.

You do your research. You study hard. You tinker away at things in your garage, supplementing your studies in your own way. And five years later, after you’ve graduated, you put in your application.

A letter arrives a few weeks later, emblazoned with the circular symbol you’ve kept in your mind’s eye all this time, and bold lettering on the front— Aperture Science Innovators. It’s addressed to you. You open it, and your fingers tighten around the smooth paper— “congratulations” it says. You’ve been accepted. At the bottom is Her signature. You trace over it with your fingers. Delicately, as gently as you’d handle an irreplaceable machine part.

Two weeks later your bags are packed and you’re boarding a flight to Detroit. The attendant greets you. You hold up your boarding pass and get on. You land a few hours later. Getting a cab would be too complicated— people don’t like to take the time to read, and most can’t speak the way you do. So you walk to the train station, it’s not too far. Just an hour or two. You’ve walked further before.

Flat fields flow by endlessly as the train rattles down its tracks. You lean your head against the window, watching the hues of gold rush by, blurring on into infinity.

The sun is gone when you pull up outside a strange little town, surrounded by chain link fence. You fish through your bag for the packet you’d been sent— and pull out the temporary ID you’d been given. You show it to the gate guard. He lets you in. A man is waiting to show you your dormitory. You shake your head at his offer of a tour— you’ll explore the place yourself tomorrow. There are a few days before you’re actually needed for orientation.

The room is small and plain. A bed, desk, and dresser, and a small closet. That’s alright. You don’t need much. You hang up your few articles of clothing and tuck your shoes next to the door. The bed isn’t soft, but it isn’t hard. You fall asleep quickly, exhausted from your travels.

The next few days are spent wandering. Visiting the little shops, the stations. Peering into labs where you can. Climbing over fences (they could never keep you out) before quickly retreating as a security guard passed. You don’t want to get in trouble before your internship even begins. You wonder if you’ll see her. But you only hear her voice in announcements as you trigger motion sensors throughout the complex.

When work actually starts, it’s tedious. Getting coffee. Taking documents to the shredder and the incinerator. You don’t usually see the labs. Or, well, much of anything. It’s just a lot of running here and there, back and forth at your superiors’ beck and call. It’s tiring. But you do it— after all, you want to be here, you want to do this— and you never give up.

It’s a few months before you see her— before your internship takes you to the main complex. Now you’re checking inventory, sorting mail, sorting records (and chucking the casualty lists into the incinerator as instructed). Occasionally they’ll call you in to fix the coffee maker or the refrigerator.

You hear her voice once, muffled— she’s talking to someone, to a group it seems, just outside the room you’re in. You look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse. Rosy cheeks and bright-red lips, wavy dark hair flowing around her shoulder, a smile on her face (manufactured, you can tell with just this glance that she’s concealing so very much), a bright red scarf tied around her neck.

Your eyes lock for just a second, and the corner of her mouth creases, dimpling her cheeks. Your heart races— that, that was a hint of a true smile. Warmth flushes your own cheeks and you tear your gaze away. Suddenly shy— much shyer than you’ve ever been before.

It doesn’t make sense to you. Not yet. Not until you start seeing her more. Not until her smiles become more frequent and pointed. Not until her gaze lingers on you a little longer than before each time. The fluttery feeling doesn’t go away— and you’re determined more than ever to reach her.

Of course, it happens sooner and easier than you think. She starts requesting you specifically to bring her her coffee. You take a red pen and draw a little smiley face next to her name before giving it to her. When you come up to her office, there’s a sticky note left on the monitor, in that oh-so-hard to read yet absolutely beautiful cursive of hers. At the end of it is a smiley face, so much more elegant and less childish than yours. You keep the note. On her next cup, you add a heart to the dot of the ‘i’ in her name. You start responding to her notes with little notes of your own, your rounded, sometimes scratchy handwriting a stark contrast.

The notes are never there when you get back. You like to think she kept them. You’re pretty sure she did.

A year after you arrive, your internship is over, and you’re up for a promotion— junior mechanic. Probably still more of the same, but you’ll be getting a salary now (not that you really have any use for it since Aperture provides your housing) and you’ll have a permanent place. But you’ll see her less. You’ll miss that, of course— but you’re finally moving beyond your station, moving up in the company.

The day before your internship ends, you get another note. “Wanna get coffee together tomorrow?” Your heart leaps. You scribble out your answer just beneath her writing.

You’re sitting across from her at the cafe table. The cafe serves the same stuff as the cafeteria, but it’s decorated more quaintly, and always costs more for some reason. Maybe because there’s sunlight coming through the windows.

“So, headed up the ladder,” she begins after the two of you sip your drinks (well, she sips her drink, you’re too caught up in the crimson of her lips). “I guess I won’t be seeing as much of you now.”

There’s something behind her cheery voice, a sadness that you’ve caught glimpses of before, a wistfulness deeper than her words. You look up, catching her gaze for a moment and nod in response.

“Well, this is nice. Maybe we should do this more often. Once a week, at least? Or you could come over to my place. We could spend time together. As friends, or something.” With that, she gives you a wink. Your cheeks flush bright red.

You catch the implication right away. Your hero, your inspiration— and now here you are sitting across from her at a cafe while she all but outright asks you out.

You thought you’d be excited for things to grow beyond the notes and the gestures. But you feel different than that. After the initial jolt, the initial flutter, you look back over at her and you see the chasm yawning out between the two of you. The mountain she’s perched on, the valley you’re standing in. Your scratchy print against her elegant cursive, your short, bitten nails against her sharp manicure, your messy ponytail against her shiny waves. You look down at your simple intern’s badge, then over at her emblazoned one. She doesn’t even have a title listed— everyone knows who she is.

You’re miles apart, even if you might have seemed to be closer.

You stand up, your throat knotting up as you shake your head. You can’t look at her now, but you can practically feel the disappointment in her face as she murmurs “oh.” You want to explain but you can’t, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. The last thing you want is to turn Her, your idol, the one who makes your heart flutter, the reason you came here in the first place, down.

But you can’t do this now. Not yet. Not until you’ve reached the top of the mountain. Not until you’re close enough for her to reach out her hand and pull you the rest of the way up.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she says.

You pause, halfway to the door. You turn back just enough so that you can glimpse her, and give a tiny nod.

After that you throw yourself into your work. Up to senior mechanic, then technician, then engineer— you’re working on Aperture’s new technology now, its most important projects. But you’re still not close enough. Into the test chambers you go at the CEO’s behest, defying death and physics at breakneck speeds, trusting in the tech you’ve helped create to ensure your survival.

Sometimes you look up and see her watching from the observation room, the tell-tale flash of red. You don’t look too long.

The CEO falls ill. He leaves a disturbing message. You try not to think too much of it— you’re almost there.

Your superior fails a test. You’re not surprised. Not hurt, not sad. It just happens and now you’re in the upper echelon. Now you’re at the top— now, you can reach out to her again. Tell her you’ve changed your mind. You can be equals now.

You go to her office. She isn’t there to answer the door. “Don’t you remember Mr. Johnson’s last request?” They say to you. You tried to block it out, but you remember.

You use your pass on a high security door. It opens. Your name is emblazoned too now. Just like hers was.

Before you is a massive operating system. On the screen reads a message: “transfer complete. transfer successful. writing data : do not disconnect subject.”

She’s lying inside a tube-like compartment. A transparent coffin. Wires hooked up to her. Eyes closed. Lips still ruby red.

You reach out and touch the glass. There’s no response. There won’t be a response.

This technology is untested. This is the first human-AI interfacing project Aperture has conducted. There’s only a fifty percent chance it will work, and even if it does, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone. You’ll never clasp her small hands inside your own calloused ones, tuck your head against her shoulder, press your lips against hers.

You’ve finally reached the top of the mountain. Finally reached her. But it was too late. When you crested the summit, she was already gone, and there was only a spatter of crimson left behind to show that she was ever there at all.

[brinnygetsstabbed]

[ DEADLY AGREEMENT // MOUSE’S MEMORIES]

She made a promise.

She made a promise to get herself into the woods when she could. Be it after Trial or when the others drifted away to do their own thing. To return to that hidden place, where nothing useful is. The edge of survivor territory. 

It’s dangerous, and she knows it’s dangerous. It’s just not compared to the doom looming over her if she doesn’t put herself in danger. There’s no choice. She’ll be hurt either way, it’s just a matter of postponing the pain. But, if she does this now, if she goes, maybe she can escape it for a bit. Make him happy, keep him calm.

Just fulfill the promise.

Her legs tremble with each step, the further she gets from the fire, the darker the world around her gets. Brin hates the feeling of being so alone, yet so surrounded at the same time. She has no bubble, no shield around herself to hide behind. Exposed, an easy target. Still, she pushes forward, going by uneven memory.

Lots of deals, the concepts of arrangements were vaguely thrown onto the table. She does something for him, and he lets her go. He lets her go and with that, he offers a mocking version of security. It’s easier to see the light when he’s not snuffing it out, when she’s still got her eyes. She can see how awful he is. How terrible she is for even listening, for not turning to her real friends for help. This will just isolate her more, only leaving him. The only person she’ll have left to turn to is the person who is hurting her.

the person who is using her. She knows it.

Yet still, she is walking.

The air shifts, the little pocket comes into view. A small area missing trees, a rock sits right in the center. The canopy still acts as a weird roof to this space. She doesn’t feel safe, but at least there’s no immediate danger. Not until he shows up, and he will. She knows he will. He always does.

Brin holds her arms tightly around herself, a slight shiver clings to her bones. Just wait. 

Time gives her room to think, to consider. To figure out a way to escape this, escape him. The game she fell into. It's a trap, and she curses herself for not seeing it sooner. What was so special about him anyway? She shouldn’t be so hooked on a killer’s attention, but she is. And he knows it.

Her thoughts trail off to analyzing him, again. Probably for the hundredth time, despite how much she hates it. Everything about him is so wrong, because it’s so normal. He can be nice, funny, caring. It’s all a goddamn lie, though. He doesn’t care. He can’t. He’s a killer, he’s killed her, several times now. And each time, it’s only gotten worse.

Like a knife dragging up her spine, Brinley’s mind screeches to a halt. Panic surges, the shaking and trembling is much worse. She’s exposed- actually exposed- now. Her eyes dart everywhere, looking for that white mask. 

She hears his sigh of satisfaction before she sees him, “Good, just making sure I’ve got your attention.” His voice is muffled, but finally he steps into view. He’s been hidden, probably watching her for at least a minute now. Bastard.

Her shaking is as bad as it could be, Brin swallows the ball of fear in her throat, only preparing to speak. Don’t say anything, yet, don’t set him off. This can be easy, just… Wait and listen.

He approaches so casually, stopping at the side of the rock, leaning against it. His hand pats the top of the dark stone, very politely asking- probably telling- Brin to take a seat next to him. With so much reluctance, she does. Her muscles tense, coiled like a spring, a bullet ready to fly; she’s ready to bolt. She wants to run away so bad, but being around him makes her crumble instead. She’s exposed anyway, running will only turn this into a very bloody discussion. 

“You’re early, that’s good,” He comments, tone unbearably gentle. Before saying anything else, the mask comes off, and is set on the rock, “I’d hate to have to chase you down outside a Trial, really.” 

Liar. He’s already done that.

Brin says nothing, her eyes are glued to the patchy grass. Only a hum of slight acknowledgment is let out, just to signal she’s listening. He has her full attention, well, her unharmed attention. It’s the eye contact that really hooks her brain. He’s terrifying. Something about silver eyes is so… Intense. It’s migraine inducing. 

Of course that’s not good enough for him, though. No, the selfish prick needs more than her everything. Still maintaining the delicate demeanor, his finger nudges under her chin, bringing her gaze snapping up to his. The reaction is more than immediate. No touch, bad touch, she’s already overwhelmed. Fine, he wants 101% of her attention? He’s got it.

As always, his eyes pierce her, his presence digs into her soul. Like a magnet, she’s pulled in, regardless of the struggle she tries to put up. He looks too smug, too happy with how easy it is to throw her brain into a paper shredder. For a moment, he simply scans her, his face changes to concerned, worried maybe, “Aw, Sweetheart, why are you shaking?”

He should know why, “I- It’s… I’m just nervous, Jed, it’s fine.” Brin struggles to find her voice, when it comes out, it’s weak, just barely a few squeaks of an explanation. 

The vibe changes, with it, a chuckle rumbles in his chest, setting her nerves on a razor's edge. She wants to run, to escape her own skin, but she’s locked in place by conditioning. Fear tactics and pain, but with the glowing lure of the catharsis of comfort. He’s able to turn on a dime, shifting from monster to some sort of guardian. It’s wrong, it’s so unbearably wrong and it hurts, but she can’t get away from it. No matter how hard she tries, “Relax, bunny, I'm not gonna hurt you, I just wanna talk.” He’s facing her more now, looming closer, “I’ve got a little job for you.”

A… Job? Jesus, what the hell does that even mean? The flicker of actual fear in her eyes makes him hum, “Don’t worry, it’s easy.” His reassurance isn’t convincing, “We’re both new here, aren’t we? Why don’t we help each other, then? All I need you to do is act as a sort of… Tracker.” Now she’s just confused, “Stick to a teammate, accidentally damage generators, don’t touch the totems if any are lit. Don’t waste your time trying to get them off hooks.” Ah, so he just wants her to lock herself away and be useless? Her heart hurts at the idea.

Brin’s eyes finally fall, her head turns away, her arms hugged tighter around herself, “I can’t.” She murmurs, finding speaking much more difficult, “I can’t betray them like that, I'm sorry…”

Again, the emotions in the air grow agitated, all this altering is giving the survivor whiplash. This conversation could go a lot faster if he just gave a clear order and left, but he’s never that simple. Quietly, a cooing hush comes from his lips, “Hey, it’s ok. They won’t know, they don’t need to know.” 

… She shouldn’t feel relieved to hear that.

“I can just make them think it’s all me. They’re mean to me, Brinny. Them and the other killers.” Jed’s tone gets hurt, dull, melancholic, “Didn’t the other kids out there push you around? Help me out, sweetheart. In return, I can let you go more often.” 

Cynicism mixed with the hatred of death makes this offer sound lovely. It’s not, it’s wrong. Everything about what they are is wrong. He’s a killer, a murderer and a stalker, and she shouldn’t be so willing to talk to him. To be near him with no one else around. Realistically, it’s horrifying, but in the moment, so many different emotions mix into something she can’t describe. 

Is he even actually bullied by the other survivors? Sure, she’s not always there to see it, but she shouldn’t feel empathy so quickly either. Jed, being bullied? That doesn’t really make him seem scary, just pitiful. Her brain is tearing itself apart just to figure out what he’s trying to do. Is he trying to get her emotions? He already has that. Is he… Trying to seem human? Weak? Is he trying to earn her pity so she’ll help him? Or is he trying to make her dislike the other survivors? To dislike even other killers?

None of it makes sense. 

She can’t answer, she can’t do much other than sit and fester in her own panicked confusion. She wants to know which game he’s playing so she can try and outsmart him, but the possibility of more than one game is what’s throwing her off. It’s already hard enough to constantly have to remind herself that she’s being played in the first place. She’s so desperate to feel something other than danger, and with him having given her that, she just wants it back. She wants the nice Jed, the Jed that serves as the personal bubble she lacks.

But this isn’t nice Jed. He’s scheming and plotting and if she threatens his plans, he’ll get angry.

And when he gets angry, he gets violent.

Brin doesn’t want violent Jed.

A brow is raised at her silence, his outward presence seems to get stronger just by him willing it so. How does he do that? He hasn’t moved an inch, yet somehow he feels so much more intimidating than before, “Ignoring me now, are we?” His tone is subtly scolding, that’s never a good sign.

It makes her practically jump from her spot, taking a wary step back just to have room to think. It’s so hard to think when he’s that close, all attention is glued to him just out of self-preservation, “N- No! Just… I'm sorry I don’t know… I wanna help, I do but-” 

“But what, Brinny?” He asks, cutting her off sharply, “I don’t like it when you lie to me. You don’t want to help me, you just wanna make sure your little survivor buddies keep caring about you.”

Tears bite at the corners of her eyes. The air is hot, it’s thin but so heavy and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. She’s cowering, another step back, “J- Jed, no, please just listen.” Brin pleads, trying not to cry, “I can… I’ll help, yes, but- But I can’t betray them, I need to help them.” Ok, ok. Her voice finds a slight levelness, the shaking in it isn’t as noticeable. Her desire to help her true friends is helpful in combating the fear his now harsh stare inflicts.

But, like with everything good, it’s short lived.

He strides closer, brow creased in apparent irritation, “Who do you want to help, then?” He questions, “You can’t get greedy and do both, Brin. It’s them or me.” 

God- she’s backing up as he gets closer, soon there won’t be anywhere else to run. The ultimatum is agony. He doesn’t have any right to do that to her, she doesn’t- she isn’t his item. She isn’t a knife, she’s not some tool. She isn’t a spy for his bullshit. Justified anger mixes with fear, leaving a bitter taste in her dry mouth, “Don’t- you can’t… That’s not fair, don’t make me choose.” Please. She can’t do that, she just can’t. That’s why she goes to the others to guide her. 

Whatever she said, it clearly snaps something inside his head. His hand shoots forward, grabbing her roughly by the jaw and pulling her forward, “I’m giving you options here, sweetheart.” Jed growls, glaring right into her soul, “Them or me. Who can really protect you from the other killers?”

That’s not a rhetorical question. She wishes it was, though, because now she’s only got so many seconds to come up with an answer, “...You.” That’s not what she wants to hear. Sadly, that hardly matters now.

“And who can get you out of more Trials?”

“...” For a moment, her brain refuses to speak, only breaking under the pressure of his grip tightening on her jaw, “You.” 

“Who can get you better food?”

It might seem silly, but food matters here. In a different way, obviously. It keeps the occupants of the Fog sane for much longer. Keeping sensations alive, keeping the concept of life itself alive, “You.” 

Finally his hold relaxes, as does his posture, “I do. So won’t you just do this little favor? I’ll still let you go, Bunny, just make a few simple mistakes.” 

Brinley can’t make herself look at him anymore. All of that mental training crumbles under the stress that his eyes bring. She could look into them all day, if only he wasn’t so goddamn terrifying. 

Her hands instinctively grabbed onto his wrist, not even looking to try and pry him off, just clinging to support. Her stomach is tied into knots, those knots are in other knots. She’d puke if she could, but sickness is strange here. So, she’s left with queasy nausea. She can’t do this, not to them, she just- think of the good. The stories, the laughing around the campfires. The little celebrations after they all get out of a Trial together. Those little moments where they’re all just humans, suffering together. Calm silence, small gestures.

That’s what she should be holding onto, that’s the good. Not this, not a killer. If she just told them about what was happening, they’d help. They’d all be there for her. Right? How could she have even considered the concept of working with the enemy just to survive? 

“...N- I just…” Her main objective is escape, just she’s not willing to pay the price. She can’t accept this offer, he’ll treat it like a bloodpact. It practically could be, given all the blood he’s drained from her. No, she won’t be trapped in that agreement, because if she fails at it, he’ll probably torture her worse than before. Worse than a mori. Nothing is worse than being the only one left in a Trial with him, “Please, I- I can help in a different way, I just need time to think.”

Now she’s done it.

Attempting to toss out another, much less scary idea is impossible. His hand shifts, clamping down on her throat. Her own hands grip his wrist harder, nails digging into the cloth of his shroud, “Tick tock, Brinley.” Shit. Full name. No nicknames. Never did she think she’d prefer to be called ‘Brinny’ over her regular name before now, “I’m not interested in anything else. You do this favor, or I’ll hunt you for sport, even outside the Trials.”

No amount of good memories can keep the streak of selflessness going. Trials are already hard enough, sometimes other killers already give her enough hassle. She can’t speak, but she can try, nodding as she does, “O- o… Ok. Ye...s” 

The guilt is agonizing, but if she didn’t answer, he’d probably strangle her to death. Brin wants to keep the dying to Trials, as much as she can.

Her response seems to please him enough, anyway.

Jed hums, letting go of her neck, gently holding her face after she coughs and wheezes for a moment or two, “See? There we go, it’ll be easy, I promise.” He’s back to being sweet. Fear does something wicked to her brain. Sweet means good, no pain, no danger. Fear also makes her want to break down. No pain? Time to go looking for something secure to crumble against. He can see it, too. Fuck, he can probably even sense how close her brain is to shattering completely. Indigo eyes shine with overflowing tears, all it takes to make them roll down her face are more gentle words, “Hey, you’re ok, Sweetheart, you’re ok.”

She’s not ok, but she can be. 

Swaying forward, her eyes squeeze shut, her shoulders twitch in tandem with muted sobs. Nothing matters anymore, she doesn’t have the energy to care about what she just signed off on, she just needs to hide. Jed is the only thing to hide against.

So, she lets herself break down. He’s been particularly good at putting her back together. And then tearing her apart. Over, and over, and over.

Though, maybe with this, that’ll happen less.

God she hopes so.

[carlycmarathecat]

Heal in Time chapter 2

 Those next few days, seemed like about every other day...

The sun shone above both soft shell and their female friend, the former clad in purple hoodie, both bouncing the orange orb between each other.

 Me and April started this trademark of a daily basketball game, one versus one.

April had flung said ball over her shoulder, Donnie too late to stop it from reaching its goal as into the net it went.

 She'd win some, I'd win some, or we'd end up somewhere tied in between.

They both seemingly scowled at each other for a beat... before rubbing nose and snout together in a cutesy manner.

 We'd also have our disagreements about who was winning or who was losing depending on our game, but of course... me and honeycomb can never stay mad at each other for very long~

Afterwards, both went their separate ways, Purple checking on his phone.

 The game had to end early for today though, I wanted to make my stop at Timothy's which I haven't for a while now. Plus, the family each asked for a little something too.

Back in the lair, Donnie first approached both Splinter and Draxum, offering them their doughnut bits.

 Dad had been craving for the taste of chocolate and Dradx had been curious to try out this flavor of 'Birthday cake'.

Next came Red, happily giving his bro a hug in thanks for his treat.

 Raph asked for his usual Boston Creme, felt it resembled him in numerous ways. (I can only imagine half of them to say the least.)

Then, with a handkerchief dressing his mouth for the moment, Donnie approached the box turtle, snuggled in his hammock. Orange slowly squirmed into a seated position, taking a small sip of his beverage while Purple patted his head.

Mikey had somehow caught a bit of a fever the other night, so the best I could get for him was a small hot chocolate and a cup of chicken noodle. And Leo...  

Lastly came the slider. Donnie however paused a moment before knocking and inviting himself in to Leo, seated against a large bean bag chair.

 He was a little late with his request... I couldn't really blame him though...

Blue seemed a bit startled to see his middle brother in the room, turning slowly with a reluctant smile. He didn't have his mask on, due to a ball of cotton taped over left eye.

"Ah, hey... my fave twin of disaster... back already?" Leo couldn't help the nervousness in his tone.

Donnie slowly moved forward, holding out the last doggy bag, "...Your grilled cheese, as you lately requested."

Leo took the offer, opening the bag. "Extra toasty, huh? Heh, you're hilarious."

Soft shell nodded slowly, turning to leave as soon as he could.

"...Um... Donnie?"

He froze; both clearly wanted to avoid this tension but it seemed... "Hm?..."

Leo bit his lip, before turning away, "N-no...it's not important...it'd probably be too stupid..."

Donnie felt that lump in his throat, "Yeah...maybe." He then hurried off, leaving Leo alone with his sandwich in his lap and face in his hand. Purple entered into his lab, low sounds of humming could be heard from his various machines. One of these creations of his floated towards him.

"Greetings, Donatello. Welcome back."

Donnie petted the smaller turtle bot's noggin, "Hi to you too, Shelldon."

Shelldon made a low rumbling noise from the contact and left Donnie to his own thing. Lamp lit overhead and sipping coffee in one hand, Purple began making notes of some ideas he had been brainstorming a while now. He frowned with a grumble having to use the eraser end on something he didn't like having put down-

 *RIIIIP!*

While to you and me, a noise such as tearing paper would barely be heard but in Donnie's case, it gave off loudly almost echoing off the walls of his room. He froze in place, hardly acknowledging he had dropped his drink and writing utensil.

 ...Oh no...

His breathing quickened, eyes began to slowly water up and his hands flew to his head, gripping at it.

 No, no, no, no...!

The thoughts poured in all at once, inviting themselves to play around. Shredder slashing aside all his machines, had thrown him to the ground when he tried to take off, the painfulness of his battle shell being torn apart... it re-winded itself over and over again.

 Stop it...you made it through that fight...! You could've died...! You just had to agitate him...!

"Donatello...?"

The small voice couldn't be heard throughout the others clouding his mind. Donnie's own sounds kept getting caught in his throat.

'Breathe... just breathe...!'

 This was your fault... You're to blame for this...you were full of yourself...

"Donnie, dude!"

 You didn't ask to be a soft shell... Shredder could've done away with you...!

"Don!"

Purple wept in agony, producing small squeaks.

'I can't breathe...! Why can't I just...?!'

"DONATELLO!"

Donnie nearly jumped at the cold feeling upon his bare shell, and slowly took notice how Shelldon had flung himself at his creator, hugging tightly from behind. This somehow seemed to distract from the various pestering thoughts, giving him the chance to slowly suck in air and breathe it out again until he had completely calmed with a shaky sigh.

"...Better...?"

He nodded, pulling his creation close, "...B-better...thank you, Shelldon..."

Both shared a small hug before the latter had to reluctantly float away, still concerned of his master. Wiping away the last of his tears, Donnie could only stare at the piece of paper that had triggered him from just one small act, rubbing at his head.

 Ugh...I hated having to continue dealing with this... I just wanna go back to when we didn't have to worry about dangers such as...that. Sure the family's fine and they've tried to help but I don't feel they'd fully understand what I had to...

A random thought crossed his mind again, only this time...

 ...Hold the phone...something April brought up once...about... time travel...?

Donnie sat back in his seat, pondering about the subject now at hand.

 More like traveling to other dimensions where we still existed, just acted differently... I only vaguely recall the one where that family dog and baby genius had done it, I was more hooked on how the drunk grandfather and his awkward grandson had done it so many times before...

He was coming to a conclusion...

 Traveling to another dimension...possibly running into another counterpart...then find if...

His fingers snapped, grin upon his face.

 ...That's it!

[iwakurodai]

Angel || Richie Tozier

hello! if this one isn’t good then you can leave me. I haven’t had a good streak with writing in so long. The ending is probably really bad but be gentle, I didn’t know how to continue this let alone end it so the ending seems a bit rushed/way too short! Anyways! I hope you enjoy this imagine to kick off my return to eggytozier

soulmate au where you feel the  pain of your destined lover but dont get the wounds/bruises. 

requested? nah, just had an idea

warnings? suicide, car wrecks, knives, cursing, death, dead parents, pain, blood, soulmates, bad endings, homophobic slur, and missing children

pairing? Richie Tozier x reader, and a bit of platonic!bill x reader

You met your soulmate when you were only five. 

Walking into preschool--hand gripped so very tightly onto your parent’s finger--you stopped at the door way as they spoke to your new teacher. Looking around, your eyes watch the kids chasing each other and knocking stuff over. Your eyes met a small boy that was playing alone, pretending to make food at the play kitchen way across the room. You were about to leave your parents when the teacher kneeled in front of you, distracting you and you forgot about the boy as she introduced herself to you. 

Farther along in the day, at recess, you were about to join the boy from before on the swing set until he jumped off and landed wrong. You felt nothing but searing pain in your ankle and you fell to the ground, sobbing, unaware of the boy screeching just a couple yards from you. You found out who he was when you both were carried to the nurses office by the teachers monitoring you. 

His name was Taylor James. He was a little blonde boy who spoke a little too quiet and laughed a little too loud. He had a strong interest in cooking after growing up with a chef as a father. He had a stutter and a lisp but you didn’t see the problem.

You two were only five, but since that point of meeting, you two were inseparable. 

As years went by, your parents and his became best friends. Taking mementos of you two to look back on when you got married. You two grew up together, not hiding a single thing. Well, it was hard to hide something when you both could feel something was wrong. 

Taylor was as quiet as he was in preschool and he was just as sensitive. Which caused him to become an easy target for bullying. You despised the bullies. Every time you saw them you couldn’t help but shout insults and jokes, hoping that they would feel what they did to Taylor. You knew that it wasn’t right but you didn’t care. All that mattered was Taylor being happy. 

But, you would never have been prepared for when the accident happened. 

You were 10, only five years were spent with Taylor. He was on his way to your house for Easter. You were helping your mother color some eggs when you suddenly dropped to the floor, screaming as if you were being murdered. Tears came out of your eyes like a river, you were barely breathing. A screech coming out of your mouth whenever you could get it out until nothing would come out. 

You felt as if your soul had been ripped in two, holding onto each other with thin strings. Your body was cold, freezing to the touch. Your nails digging into your arms but you didn’t feel a single thing. Your whole mind and body were numb, other than the feeling of your whole being, being put through a paper shredder. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting against your mother chest, still sobbing, that your dad came home. He had tears in his eyes, his hands were shaking. 

Your dad was coming home from buying some candy for you and Taylor when he saw a familiar car fly, headfirst, into a semi truck. He pulled over and ran to the scene, pulling out a phone and calling 911. He was telling the operator where he was when he was stopped cold at the sight of Mr. and Mrs. James, barely even recognizable. Your dad checked the back and was horrified to see little Taylor with a piece of shrapnel lodged into his chest. 

Your dad fled, rushing to you as he realized what would happen. He had only read about soulmates dying, but never did he think he--or anyone he knew--would witness it himself. You didn’t feel a thing of the crash. Taylor died on impact. But the feeling of your other half being ripped from life had scarred you to the core. 

You went silent, your mouth never opened other than to eat and drink. The trauma of losing someone so close to you had scraped your ability to find the use in talking. Your parents became scared, signing you up for a therapist. 

You were only with that therapist for barely half a year before they decided that a change of scenery was better for your health. With that suggestion, you and your family packed up and left your hometown. Driving as far as the family’s minivan could take you. 

Which was the small, secluded town of Derry, Maine. 

You didn’t go to school until the next year, your parents making sure that all the teachers knew of your problem and wouldn’t force you to do anything. 

You weren’t mad or sad or even happy that you had moved. You were just... surviving. You didn’t feel like you needed to feel anything, so you didn’t. In the short year of learning at Derry Middle School, you didn’t make any friends and only gained the attention of Greta Bowie. She took advantage of every time you were alone to bully you. She wanted to tip you over the edge and cause a breakdown. She had found out about your soulmate dying and was making up different scenarios of what could have happened. 

“Your little soulmate killed himself because you’re such a fucking disgrace of a human he didn’t want to be with you, didn’t he?” 

You pretended to not hear it. 

You also gained the attention of a kid named Bill Denbrough. He had a stutter and it reminded you, almost too much, of Taylor. He tried his best to make you comfortable: helping you with work when you seemed to not understand, giving you tips about avoiding Greta and Henry Bowers (who you hadn’t met but made a note of staying away from), and even inviting you to hang out with his friends. You always denied, you didn’t wanna damper their fun. 

Bill always shrugged, though, promising to make plans to hang out alone. You always gave him a small smile in response and a pat on the shoulder. You were scared of getting close to him. 

It was only a month after meeting Bill that you felt something strange. 

You were walking down the hallway, being called to the counselor’s office for your daily meeting, when you felt a strong sense of pain in your stomach. As if you’d been punched. You froze in the middle of the hallway, your mind racing with possibilities. 

Taylor? No, you thought, he’s definitely dead. You saw his body in the morgue, in the open casket with his family. He was gone. 

Was there a chance that you had gotten a new one? You hadn’t seen anything about gaining a new soulmate after the death of another, but it also wasn’t common to find yours at such a young age, like you. 

You got knocked out of your thoughts--literally--when you felt a punch to your face. You dipped your head down, covering your left eye as you head starts to pound fiercely against your eye. Your vision started to blur with tears, a ringing in your ears. You clench your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take a breath and get to the counselor’s office before you started to investigate more. 

You asked the counselor about having a new soulmate when you met with her again, of course by writing it down. She pulled out a dirty notebook and flipped a couple pages before reaching her desired spot. 

She read to you that soulmates who lose their other half so suddenly and unexpectedly have a chance to gain a new one. It happens so rarely that there had been only two ever cases about it. The universe had a plan, they always planned ahead of time. The universe had a backup when they knew a soulmate was going to die unexpectedly. Meaning that in rare cases, people would be born without a soulmate until they were needed.  

When she asked about the sudden curiosity, the bell rang. You ran out of the office and into the crowded halls, to the cafeteria--which you commonly avoided. But, today, you wanted to see Bill. You could see how much mysteries sparked the kid’s interest and you needed help. 

You found him pretty easily, he was with his friends. You knew them from Bill pointing them out in the yearbook when he was showing you Henry Bowers. You barely knew their names but that was the least of your concerns. You scrambled in your backpack, finding a piece of paper and a pen. You scrawled the words “I need your help” on it before throwing the pen in your bag and striding up to Bill, confidently. 

Ignoring his friends that were silenced with confusion, you shoved the paper in Bill’s face. He grabbed it carefully, reading it slowly. 

“Damn Bill, since when did you know the hot new girl?” A kid with glasses exclaimed, smiling at your determined face. “Hi, hotstuff, I’m Richie Tozier, but you can call me your boyfriend!” Richie shoves his hand in your direction. You glance at his hand and then at his face, scrunching your brows together and tilting your head. 

“C-c’mon, (Y/N), we-we can go to th-the libr-library,” Bill says, cutting off your introduction to Richie. “I’ll see you-you guys af-after school!” He exclaims, grabbing your wrist and leading you away from his friends. 

“What the fuck?”

“Why can’t we go?”

“What just happened?”

Bill ignores the three and you two make it out of the loud cafeteria and through the halls until you both finally get to the small school library. 

“So, what di-did you need h-hel-help with?” Bill asks, sitting down on a chair. You sit next to him, opening your bag and scrambling for a random notebook. You find one and hurry, rushing out an explanation. When you finish, Bill slides towards him and scans it quickly, mouthing the words as he reads. He looks back to you once he finishes, he was shocked. 

He’s never heard of the whole gaining new soulmates thing and he didn’t know what to do. But he wanted to help his friend. “Wh-What do you wa-want me to do? How can I-how c-can I help?” You smile in relief, reaching over and hugging him tightly. 

Bill grins widely, hugging you back. It was only the start to a whole new adventure and he was excited to help you figure it out. 

You back up from him, blushing in embarrassment before turning back to your notebook and writing something more. 

‘Do you have any ideas? All I’ve got is asking around if there’s been a fight.’

Bill hums, racking his brain for ideas. Biting his lip, he looks over at you to see you tapping your pencil on the notebook. “M-Maybe we can my friends i-if they’ve heard of-of any fights re-recently? R-Richie surely knows, i-i-if not then we can ask the r-r-redhead, Beverly, from History c-class.” You nod, accepting the idea. 

“Okay, I-I have to go. I’ll meet-meet up with you by the b-bike rack and w-we-we can b-brainst-storm more on the w-way home. Y-You live near the sy-synag-synagogue, right?” After seeing you nod, he smiles. “O-Okay, I’ll w-wa-walk you home. R-R-Remember, by the b-bike rack!” Bill says, leaving you to think to yourself. 

I’m scared that if we don’t find my soulmate, I’ll lose them before I could get to know them. You thought to yourself, playing with your pencil. I don’t wanna know that they’re going through pain and I’m not doing anything to help. 

But, you didn’t know you were going to have to halt the investigation because less than a month later, Bill’s little brother ended up missing. 

You became close to Bill throughout his grieving. You related to him in a way. You both lost someone close to you, for you it might’ve been more painful in the sense of your soul ripping in two, but he lost his little brother. And he thought it was his own fault. 

Bill came to you to vent about Georgie. He went through all the stages of grief in front of you. And you were there to help him through it all. 

Being close to Bill also meant you became good friends with his. Stan Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Richie Tozier became a constant in your routine. They didn’t pressure you to speak but they made light hearted jokes about it. You weren’t ever offended, you laughed with them. Richie made the most jokes though. He couldn’t go an hour without shooting a flirty comment at you with a wink. You found it adorably annoying.

Eddie and you became close too. After a freakout with Eddie not trusting any other boys with his extra inhaler, you stepped up and held it for him. You keep it in your bag at all times and when you didn't have your bag, you had it tucked in your pocket. He had a respect for you for putting up with Richie and not managing to smack him. You always shook your head and chuckled at his disbelief. 

Stan and you only became close after you found him crying with bruises up and down his arms. You helped him up and led him into your home, holding an ice pack to the worst of them all. Stan had been beaten by Henry Bowers and you caught him after he had ran far enough away to lose them. He gained the smallest crush on you after that, but you didn’t have know that. 

You didn’t ever bring up the possibility of having another soulmate to the boys. You didn’t want to stress Bill with his search for Georgie and you didn’t want the other three to ask questions about your first. Though, Richie loved to pester you. 

Richie loved to make jokes about being your soulmate, about how you never bring up soulmates because he was already in front of you. You always brushed it off and rolled your eyes at him. But, one day, the jokes seemed to be a reality. 

You were walking home from your therapist appointment when you felt something hit the back of your head. You reached up and rubbed at it, groaning about how your soulmate must be in wrestling club with how much fighting he did. As you came across Mr. Keene’s pharmacy to pick up your prescription, you glance down the alleyway. 

You almost didn’t catch it but you did a double take and saw Richie struggling against the brick wall as a platinum blonde boy holds him there. 

“Let go of me, bleach bottle! I got shit to do!” Richie exclaims, groaning as he tries to pull away from the kid holding him down. You step closer, hiding behind the wall as you watch. You knew you should help, but something was stopping you. 

“No, you don’t, trashmouth, not anymore.” You watch as a kid with a blonde mullet stalks towards Richie with something in his hand. “I’m gonna teach you to keep your mouth shut, faggot,” He snarls, clicking a button and showing off the glint of the knife. You gasp quietly, slipping away from the wall to try and stop him. You recognized the mullet from Bill pointing it out in the yearbook. Henry Bowers. 

Richie, for once, was shocked silent. His eyes watching as the knife practically glared at him. He swallows thickly as Henry brings the knife close to his face. “You better be happy to welcome a new stamp, Buck Teeth,” Henry mutters, poking the tip of the knife into Richie’s cheek and dragging it slowly across his skin. Richie’s eyes screw shut, gritting his teeth to stop himself from yelling. 

You gasp loudly, eyes widening as you spin to press your back to the brick wall. Your hand reaching to press against your cheek, feeling the knife dig into you but not showing any wound. Heat seemed to lick at your cheek, stinging and causing your eyes to water. Taking a couple deep breaths, you press a hand to your chest to calm your heart beat. 

“What the fuck was that?” Henry whispers to Victor who shrugs. “Well go fucking check, dipshit!” Victor jumps, letting go to Richie, who falls to the ground. He didn’t dare to get up, knowing that if he did Henry would just find a way to injure him more brutally. 

You tense, glancing around before rushing into the store you were hiding in front of. You watched at the bleach blonde looked everywhere before freezing and rushing back to the alleyway. You waited a couple seconds before leaving the store and glancing back where Richie was. 

Richie was pushing himself up, holding his cheek with a frown on his face. Henry and the other one, nowhere to be seen. You deem it safe enough to bolt into the alleyway and to Richie who looked up with fright in his eyes before relaxing at the sight of you. 

“Hey, dollface! What’s up?” He exclaims, smiling at you while still holding his cheek. He acted like nothing had happened. You stop in front of him and look at him incredulously. Blood was starting to drip from his fingers. “What? Oh, you mean this?” Richie asks, noting your shock. “It’s just a scratch, my dear, no need to worry!” You shake your head, grabbing Richie’s wrist and taking it from his face. 

He sucks in a breath, not liking how the cold air felt in his new wound. He didn’t notice how you winced as well. “Yea, okay. Might need a band aid, maybe? Say, where you headed?” Richie asks, suddenly losing interest in the still burning wound. You roll your eyes, pulling him along with you to Keene’s to pick up some supplies. 

“Do you think Mama (L/N) will freak about me bleeding out on your kitchen table?” You scoff at Richie’s words, dabbing a wet washcloth on his cheek to clean the blood from around the fresh band aid. “What? You don’t think so? You know your mom loves me, angel!” You freeze at the nickname. 

It was new—different from the other pet names he’s given you. You roll your eyes, brushing it off as him just finding a magazine that mentioned it. 

“You like that one? I made it up on my own!” Richie exclaims, smiling brightly at your reddening face. “Yea, cause you are like an angel. Maybe that’s why you don’t talk, cause if you do then none of us will be able to handle your beautiful voice and we’d all die because our heart burst from it!” Richie over exaggerates, springing up from the kitchen chair and laughing at your little jump. You chuckle a bit before turning around and cleaning up the mess you made. 

“Hey, (y/n)?” Richie asks, suddenly quiet and serious. You raise an eyebrow, turning on your heel and tilting your head at him in question. “Have you found your soulmate yet?” He mumbles, shocking you. 

You didn’t know if you should tell him. Yea, you were very happy you found your second soulmate but you didn’t know if you should tell him or let him figure it out himself. 

“You don’t have to answer, I was just wondering. Because, I’m scared I don’t have one,” Richie confesses. You sit down next to him, slowly, growing confused. “That or my soulmate is extremely careful because the last time I felt pain from them was…” Richie stops to think. “Have I ever felt pain from them before?” You sigh, looking down and grinding your teeth. 

You’ve been overly cautious about hurting yourself over things. You didn’t want to put your soulmate through something painful, it hurt you to see that you were the cause. But you needed to do something. You knew Richie was your soulmate, you just had to find the courage to show him. 

“It’s whatever. I can deal with not having one! It’s not like I need one or something!” Richie laughs, pushing away his true feelings. He stands up, rubbing his hands over pants before starting towards the door. You start to panic, not wanting him to leave on a sad note. You rack your brain, filing through the things you could do to make him stay. But there was really only one choice as there was nothing around you to help you.. “I should probably go, I was supposed to meet Eddie at the park—“

“W-Wait.” 

Richie freezes, a hand reaching towards the door. He spins on his heel slowly, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. “Did you just—“ He cuts himself off as you start to walk closer to him. You nod. Your voice was hoarse, as it hadn't been used in more than a year. And you stuttered, you weren’t exactly used to talking anymore. 

“I—“

“Y-Your soulmate,” You confess, biting the inside of your cheek and watching him carefully. Richie’s face drops. He chuckles lowly, sounding betrayed. 

“Don’t try, angel. I don’t want you to fake being my soulmate just to make me happy,” You roll your eyes as Richie looks up at you with sad eyes. “You deserve to be with your actual soul—“ As Richie talks, you lift your arm and grab a lump of your skin in between two fingers, and squeeze. 

“Oh, fuc—“ Richie exclaims, jerking his arm to his chest quickly. He looks at you with confusion, his face screwed with disbelief. 

“You’re—“ He didn’t have to finish his words as you nod in confirmation. Richie laughs, relief seeping through. “Shit,” He breathes, bringing you in for a tight hug. “You’re actually my soulmate. Holy fuck!” Richie rambles, a grin gracing his features. 

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. You got a second chance, you didn’t wanna screw it up. You decided to put off telling him about Taylor. Richie’s smiling face was way too precious to be put down by your past. 

“Wait! I gotta tell Stan! He’s gonna shit himself!”