#and the kinda friends and circles he surfaces in. Its always a good thing to see the guy. Means there is some kinda good he sees in eveyone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

Could I request a Bucky Barnes x reader smut? Basically she and Bucky have been together for some time and maybe it’d be a little angst where the two are talking about the future and Bucky not thinking he can ever have a normal future? Which would result in soft smut and later reader being revealed as pregnant so Bucky finally gets his family

I’m Home

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | based on the request ^^

Warnings | angst, smut, oral sex (m receiving), fluff, pregnancy, mentions of death

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

The Wilson’s boat rocked sturdily upon the water, swaying as the boats worked aboard. Your hand held the weight of a silver spanner, twirling it in your fist as though it were a knife, thinking of the long road ahead of you. Sam had the shield now, that was a good start, but still, there was a ways to go until the world recognised him as the captain that he was meant to be.

There was so much destruction ongoing in the world, what with the flag smashers, and whomever the power broker was, and surely, you knew on the shallow surface, that there would be masses more problems to arise. It was exhausting, to know that there was no end to the war on earth, and that you were surely going to be fighting the threats until you could no more.

Bucky felt the same; he had just gone from one war to another, losing everyone that he cared about along the way. Steve had given everything up to finally find peace, and yet, the two did not share the same opportunity. An escape was never laid at your feet, instead, the pair of you were trapped in the cycle of cruelty, being blended around in a shredder by reality.

“Hey.” A voice confiscated you from the lonesome containment of your thoughts; it was Sam’s hosting sister, Sarah. I’m her own way, though you doubted that she would never admit such a thing, she was a hero. She had become a widow, and not to mention she remained a stable mother to keep her boys afloat, as well as nurturing half the kids that lived within close proximity.

“Hi Sarah.” You put the tool down, giving her your ample attention as you stood, tugging your fingers into the loops of your jeans as you stepped out of the boat, and onto the dock. “Anything I can help with?” It hadn’t passed your attention that Sam and Bucky had disappeared, but not into ash like last time. Instead, they had walked off in the direction of the house, most likely meddling about with a ball, in the back yard with Jim and Jody.

“I just came to let you know I’ve made the sofa up for you and Bucky. Are you sure you’ll be all good, I could always kick Sam outta his bed and make him sleep on the living room floor?” The two of you had nightmares, if you were to be separated from him for even a night, it was certain that the pair of you would greatly suffer. That was something you didn’t want to burden any of the Wilson’s with, screaming in the middle of the night because flashes from your past struck an unconscious nerve.

“All good, and thank you Sarah. You didn’t have to let us stay here, we both appreciate it, a hell of a lot.” One thing that you had learnt throughout your years was to show gratitude. The smallest amount shared had the ability to spring up moods, and had even set you on a much more heroic path than the one that you had been originally been placed upon.

“You’ve earned your stay.” Sam’s sister shrugged with modesty, acknowledging the help that you and Bucky had not only given to Sam, but to her family’s legacy. The two of you had aided with fixing the old wreckage that had now returned to the form of a boat, keeping it afloat rather than permitting it to sink from the quarrels that Sam had with himself regarding fixing the damned yet meaningful port of transport.

“This life you have, it’s great. I get it’s not easy, but it’s beautiful. You have two wonderful kids, that you’ve done such a great job raising, and not to mention, these community that you have is so loving and kind, even to us outsiders.” The pair of you had paused outside of her front door, speaking. “Sam is lucky to have you, he truly is.”

“Well, maybe one day this life could be something similar to what you’ll have.” The sister of your friend smiled, though your mirroring expression retracted. In a stumble of thought, you shook your head, not believing that possibility. This all was... perfect. That was something that you had never had, nor would you think that you’d ever be permitted such a peaceful lifestyle.

“I don’t think that would work out.” You sincerely mumbled, feeling the sad swelling in your chest at the prospect of all the luxuries that life had denied both you and Bucky of. It wasn’t fair all the same, but the two of you were used to being denied human rights, let alone the simplicity of nothing more than a life together. “As nice as it sounds, me and Buck aren’t really cut out for all this I suppose.”

“The world does not choose who can and cannot have a family, there’s always a way. Just because you haven’t had the most ideal line of story does not at all mean that you can’t make it work, from as much as i know, you two deserve a life together, that doesn’t include being shot at, or shooting at other people. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta go for it, and hope for the best.” She gave you a final nod, before heading inside, and you trailed after her into her her residency.

The two of you went your separate ways, and there, you saw Bucky, sat up on the sofa, his hands clasped together as his eyes stared towards the tan bag, that concealed not the shape, but the Stars and Stripes of the infamous shield. It was much a relief that it was no longer in Walker’s toxic clutch, however its presence, among other things, were taking a clear toll on your boyfriend.

“You ever feel like we’re stuck?” The air was tense around you both as he spoke solemnly, it diverting to match the mood of his question. “Like we’re us, and I love us, but it makes me think that it’s it. Just me and you, on this path for the rest of our lives, never getting a compensated break, nor an average person’s future. I want this, what these people here have, not the combat that is aided by this metal arm, or the associations that stick to us like life lines.”

“All the time, it’s on my mind James.” With a sigh, you came to sit beside him on the couch, resting your head against his bionic shoulder. “I ever wonder if there’s a timeline of you and me where there’s none of this ruckus, we just have a nice little house in a quiet and accepting place, and maybe a kid or two in the future.”

“I’d give anything up for that.” He looked at you, almost wide eyed, as his hand slithered down onto your knee cap, rubbing small circles as he wore a blunt and endearing smile upon his infatuating lips. “I mean that Buck, that sounds...”

“Perfect?” He asked, leaning closer as he grabs your chin with his wondrous fingers, his nose brushing alongside your own as his puckered lips fell upon yours, earning a small hun of content from within you. “Because you’re perfect to me, and no matter what life we are encased in, I want to share it with you. I want stare at the night sky and watch the moonlight illuminate the side of your face, and the stars reflect in your entrapping eyes, that I want to look into like a medium’s orbs forever, because that is how I will see the future that I ever so hope for.”

“How long have you been working on that one Barnes, because you are usually not that smooth?” A small laugh erupted from your mouth, but you were quickly silenced as you felt a cold metal hand slither up and beneath the back of your tank top, rubbing along the seam of your spine, as his lips ran down the column of your throat, evoking small and delicate whimpers out of you.

“Shut up doll, because I really want to fuck you now, and those words leaving your mouth are making it kinda hard to concentrate.” A furrow imbedded between his brows, as you tilted your head at him, a smirk proclaiming your expression as you pulled the material over your head, and reached behind yourself to unclip the back of your bra.

“Kinda hard to concentrate, hun?” You asked nonchalantly as his gaze zeroed in on your bare breasts, his hands smoothing along your ribcage as he adjusted his grip of you so that he was palming at your breasts, and squeezing the nipples. “I want you in me baby, I’ve practically gone days without you inside of me.” Licking your lips, you reached down to palm your beloved through his layers, earning a positive groan from the former assassin.

“Hours, you mean. I fingered you on the road trip here.” Yes, that was true, however, it was only his fingers, not even the metal ones, and whilst you loved what they alone could do, he had to be discreet as you were sat on the back of the truck, which had carried the primary parts for the Wilson’s family boat. If you were to scream out, they’d have surely thought that you’d fallen off the back of the truck and pull over, or if they had much sense, they’d have noticed that there was more going on than two passengers sat side by side on the journey to their small neighbourhood by the docks,

“You heard me Barnes, otherwise I’m sure Sam wouldn’t have any problem if I came to his room in this state of undress that I am currently portraying.” Growling was never Bucky’s fortes, however the sound aggressively ripped through the tunnel of his throat, as he threw off his grey top, quickly unfastening his belt, as he awaited for you to strip the rest of your clothing before him.

But rather than doing so, as he stood before you, your hand had trouble resisting the sight of his cock that had bobbed to attention, and thus, you wrapped it around his toned flesh, giving it a couple jerks that had his head reeling back, before you tongued his tip, moaning to yourself at the taste of him invading your sensitive taste buds. “Love your cock.”

As soon as you said that, Bucky gently gathered your head in a ponytail so that it was free from bombarding your face, and groaned as quiet as he could as you sucked him in your mouth, running your tongue up the side of his shaft. “Is that a part of your dream world baby doll, the sight of my cock throbbing to be inching down that perfect little throat of yours?”

To answer him, you pressed your head down deeper, humming around him as your eyes ogled up at the sight of your super soldier, who was trying his hardest to keep his eyes open, and attuned to the sight of you. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, as you lightly gagged around him, pulling off him, and squeezing his balls, before running your hungry tongue along the middle of his sack.

“Always. It would be a dream if you made love to me right here and now though, I’m not sure I can wait any longer James.” Bucky took a long inhale, before ravishingly pulling down your jeans and panties in one go, and tossing you so that he was below your form, and you hovered over him, toying with his erect cock. “I love you so much Bucky, and I’m scared of what’s to come. I have a feeling that there’s gonna be a fight.”

“There’s always a fight doll face.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly across your jaw, pulling your hips down closer so that you were rubbing your slick folds against his standing cock. “But this is what we’re fighting for, the rest of our lives together. I’d be damned, one day after this, and if I were to die, I’d be a happy man. There’d be the memory of you to keep me forever happy in the afterlife, and not to mention, there’d be no more wars for me to participate in.”

“I’m not going to let you die Buck, even hypothetically. We saw how your little hypothetical synopsis went last time.” Tapping his cock against your clit, a breathy sound evicted from your lips, as you stared down at the two of you intimately touching, the sight alone making you more turned on and impatient. “No one is allowed to kill you, otherwise I’ll unleash hell on all their flag smashing asses.”

Giving him one last stroke, you guided his tip towards your entrance, removing your hand once you had him situated, so that you could rest it upon his sturdy shoulder, and sink down on him, the feeling of him stretching you being the most euphoric sensation that you had ever endured. Hushed moans ceased from the both of you, as Bucky’s hands gripped your ass cheeks, only adding to all of the pleasure that was erupting within you.

“Think your pussy is gonna kill me before anyone else does; your so tight.” His pitch had rose, as your fingertips danced along the left side of his handsome face, invisibly connecting the dots of his beauty marks. You allowed the pair of you to adjust for a simple moment, before you began to raise your hips, sliding up his super soldier rod, only to slide down it again.

The actions were repeated, as your own hands trailed down his warm skin, to drag down the golden lines of his vibranium arm, only to bring the weapon to your mouth, and kiss every black finger up, as you tried your best to muffle the moans that were hoping to reap free. “So fucking big, I love you and your cock.” You muttered, your sight turning blurry as Bucky realised that it was his turn to do the work, and thus, he thrusted up into you, making echoing sounds of your skin slapping together reverberate around the room.

“Love you more.” He gritted his teeth, pulling his metallic hand away from your numb lips, so that he could swirl the elegant digits around your clit, the action provoking whimpers to rapidly surpass your exterior, as you bit harshly onto your own lip, and screwed your eyes shut. “Cum for me doll, want you to cover my hard cock in everything you have. Come on baby, you can do it.”

Without much thought, as your mind was too scrambled to do so, you reached for Bucky’s spare hand, pulling it to your mouth as you sucked on his fingers as though you were blowing him. A low moan that was dialled down from the presence of his flesh digits, ran from your mouth, as you began to bounce your hips, chasing and eventually reaching your high. You came around him, pushing him too over the edge, his seed filling your walls, as you collapsed atop of him, huffing from exhaustion as you removed his salivated hand from the realms of your mouth, resting your head against his panting chest.

Stringed sighs fell from Bucky’s breath as he tried to catch his own breath. His hands rubbed your back, not only to comfort you, but also to subconsciously pull you closer against him, and his softening cock that was still inside you, and was keeping his cum plugged within your tender and pulsating walls. If life was easier, there’d be more time for this, and that, but for now, it was just every now and then. Maybe you’d win this fight and survive until the next one, but maybe, you’d lose and never battle again.

Life was precious, that was something that you had not only learned as an avenger, but also something that had been told to you by Isiah. That man thought that you deserved a normal life, no fighting, no super soldiers. He himself was the biggest yet silent critic of those with additional strength, but his opinion was never going to sway you, not as you stared out into Sarah’s backyard, and watched the man that you loved play with the boys.

They had the shield, and were whisking it through the air like a frisbee; dangerous, yes, but again, life could only amount to so much without an ounce of pain. A content and satisfied smile absorbed any pain on your face, you were enraptured with the sight of Bucky like this, he was like an uncle to these two kids. He was no captain America, that was for sure, but you didn’t want a man in Stars and Stripes, all you wanted was him to be at peace, and it was a fact unbeknownst to him, that you had made such an alternative to that.

“Still want all this?” Sarah emerged, a cheap yet formidable bottle of wine pursed in her hand, as she held two clear and tall glasses in her hand. You hummed, watching as she poured the thin red consistency into one glass, but as she went to fill the other, you held out your hand, shaking your head. The woman was confused, last time you had visited, and were entangled on her sofa with the limbs of your boyfriend and a shaggy old blanket, you had kindly accepted her offer.

“Sure do.” You sighed, staring out into the green abyss where Jim was hanging from Bucky’s arm like it were a branch. “How do you do this, this whole mother thing? I’ve never been able to wrap my head around how you make it look so easy, it’s just, you do such a good job.” Your palms rested flat on your thighs as you laughed at Sam ordering Jody to jump on Bucky’s back, as he fell down in faux defeat.

“It never is easy y/n.” She placed the open bottle down, along with the mismatched glasses, that were asymmetrical considering one was half filled and the other wallowed in emptiness. “But every step of difficulty is worth it. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss their father, but they’re my priority. For Jim and Jody, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do, and you’d understand that if you ever opened yourself up to giving your life of heroism up to have all this.”

“I might have to.” Twiddling with your fingers, glancing up at your boyfriend, realising that he was in fact not looking over, you clasped your intwined hands over your stomach, smiling softly to yourself. “And maybe not having another option is the best option for me and Buck, because we don’t have to fight with ourselves over being included in our duties, we have new ones.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Sarah asked, resting her nurturing hand upon the tile of your shoulder, prompting you to turn your face towards her. There was a conflict in your eyes, it was something that she recognised her younger self having once worn. It was the idea of putting everything aside, all for a child, everything that she had ever known, so that she could put her baby boy first. “Does Bucky know?”

“He will.” You shifted your head down, unsure of yourself. This had been what you had wanted, and whilst you still envied Sarah for the role she had, you were hurt. A part of you wanted to be an avenger until you were nothing but a soul drifting in the abyss of non existence, another didn’t want to let the knowledge of being a carrier for a new future crumble you. “I just need a moment to tell him.”

“I’ve got it.” She sent you a wink, picking up the items she had brought out, before she called on Sam and the kids to come inside. Sarah had gifted you the opportunity of revealing the truth to your partner with no one else around; you appreciated that. As he stalked closer, you met him halfway, sinking into his arms as he hugged you.

“Looked like you were having fun with the boys.” You verbally noted, loving the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “You’re amazing Bucky Barnes, to me and to everyone. I just, don’t want you to freak out on me, I have something big, really big, to tell you, and-“

“Baby, I know.” He smiled, pulling back so that he could look you in the face. “I have super human senses, I heard their little heart beat for the first time yesterday. We’re having a baby, and I couldn’t be happier about it. In fact, I want to ask you if you’ll accept my question of making Sam the godfather.” You nodded, tears standing in your eyes, as you brought the man down for a kiss.

“Yes. But I’m not sure that he’ll be praising us for making a baby when we technically created him or her on the couch inside.” Bucky shook his head at you, kissing your forehead before walking inside with you, preparing to tell the Wilson family, that had along the way became your own, the good news- well, not the sofa bit.

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trashytummiez · 3 years

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Ahhh I love your writing!! Could you possibly write something with burpy Dabi getting carsick and getting his belly rubbed by someone to help out?

Warning: contains belly kink burps fluff hiccups indigestion nausea near-vomiting tummy rubs

"Dabi stop being gross!" Toga complained with a pout after hearing Dabi let out yet another wet burp. Probably the fifth or six one he couldn't hold in during that entire car ride.

The scarred villain groaned and held his churning stomach painfully while keeping his other hand rested against his mouth. He looked miserably nauseous. Dabi hated riding in cars more than most things in life. It always made him absolutely sick to his stomach even if his stomach was empty like it was right now.

"Unnngh...tell that fuckin' purse to stop drivin' like a blind old lady," Dabi grumbled so groggily he sounded like he was on the verge of puking with every syllable.

"Hey it's not my fault the driving mechanics in GTA suck! It was the only teacher I could afford!" Spinner shouted from the drivers seat.

"Will both of you shut up?" Shigaraki said from the passenger seat whilst playing a game on his portable console.

Dabi's response was a thick burp that managed to force its way past his lips and past his clutched hand. It ended in a strained groan.

"Dude if you're gonna puke just do it already and stop bitching."

"Wha-no?! No don't vomit at all dammit!!" Mr Compress shouted from the backseat. He fidgeted uncomfortably and inched as far away from dabi as he could. "You know I don't do well around that sort of thing! If he loses it I'm going to lose my own lunch!"

Toga frowned and glared back at Shigaraki. "If they puke on me then I'm stabbing you in the eye Tomura..."

Shigaraki shrugged indifferently.

Suddenly Twice raised his hand like a child eager to answer a question he knew the answer to. "OOoh! I know! Lemme rub your tummy until you feel better! Punch him in the gut!!" Twice expressed eagerly until his contrarian personality kicked in.

Dabi groaned both from his aching belly and from Twice's childish exuberance. "...You ain't-" he paused to burp heavily in his mouth, "...touchin' me."

"C'moooooon! I'll be gentle! Honest!" Twice assured him in his happy go-lucky sort of way. "I'll thrash your belly like a soda can!" Then immediately unassured him.

Dabi looked like he wanted to die...and probably take everyone in the van with him. But with a dejected sigh he leaned back and made his stomach stick out when he arched his back. "...Get this bullshit over with."

Twice squealed and clapped happily then growled angrily at himself. He scooted right up against Dabi and slid his hands under Dabi's shirt to place them on his incredibly warm and slightly puffed out tummy. It gurgled unpleasantly that Twice cringed slightly behind his mask.

"Wow it's rough in there!" Twice noted. "Pansy!"

"Shut up'n rub..." Dabi almost growled his patience nonexistent.

Twice did just that. He gently rubbed his hands up and down Dabi's belly using the heel of his palm to knead circles into his tight aching flesh. For all his silliness and contradictions Twice's movement was very precise and careful. His fingers very gently slid across Dabi's stomach fluttering across the surface in a deeply sensual and relaxing way while being careful not to get too rough around his upper stomach where his burnt flesh and stitches were.

Dabi's eyes were rested shut to mask them rolling to the back of his head with relaxation. His tensed body seemed to relax incredibly in response to Twice's ministrations.

"....Hoooohhh shit...that's...that doesn't feel terrible..." Dabi admitted in a euphoric tone of voice.

Twice beamed proudly behind his mask and continued rubbing.

Toga d'awwwed at the scene while even Mr. Compress couldn't help but smile behind his own strange mask proud of seeing Twice earn some praise. And from Dabi of all people.

Twice rubbed circles into the middle of Dabi's stomach brushing his palm against Dabi's belly button while his fingers kneaded slightly into his firm gurgling skin.

The stimulation was enough to get Dabi to turn his head with his fist against his mouth in time for him to give a really deep closed mouth burp that rumbled in his cheeks for a few seconds. Dabi looked visible strained then burped in his mouth again even longer and harder.

"Tomuraaaaaa! Dabi's being gross again!" Toga whined literally as Shigaraki had just finished taking a swig from his can of soda.

The only response she got was Shigaraki burping loudly and indifferently then smacking his lips unapologetically. Toga frowned while Mr. Compress shook his head dismayed by the crudeness of their boss.

"Dude I'm trying to drive!" Spinner whined and rang out his earhole.

"Try sucking less at it," Shigaraki replied never taking his eyes off of his game.

"...Seriously..." Dabi groaned then hiccuped sharply. He hiccuped again then burped so hard in his mouth he immediately clamped his mouth shut. "...Fuck. Somethin' definitely came up with that one..." he mumbled behind his hand.

Twice frowned behind his mask. "Do you want me to stop?"

Dabi waited and kept his hand clamped over his mouth. He shook his head at Twice but still looked really sickly. For a second it looked like he was going to blow which made both Toga and Compress inch back nervously...Toga even pointing her knife defensively at Dabi like a hiker trying to defend against an approaching bear.

His stomach gurgled loudly enough that even Shigaraki looked over his shoulder to see if Dabi was about to spew.

Fortunately instead Dabi's hand blew back as he let out a big throaty burp that left him huffing breathlessly and the others sighing with relief. Shigaraki shook his head like he got ripped off then went back to playing his game.

"...Unnf...nah, you're good Jin. It's just kinda workin' some shit up. You're doin' just fine so...don't stop..." Dabi said. He ordered Twice to keep going but the way he said it implied an unspoken 'please?' at the end of his sentence.

Twice smiled anew when he heard that and kept going. He gingerly rubbed Dabi's noisily churning tummy with both hands while Dabi groaned and savored the relaxing sensation the entire ride on.

It was going to be a long drive and even through the belly rubs Dabi's stomach was still volatile. It would churn intensely and make Dabi burp frequently sometimes burping so hard he worried something would come up with the sterile gas. But the fact that Twice was able to satisfy the others by settling Dabi's stomach filled him with an immense joy. Nothing mattered more to the fractured villain than making his friends happy in any way he could.

...The fact that he got to indulge in his secret tummy kink didn't hurt either...

#kink fic #sick fic #dabi #twice #belly kink #tummy rub #burping #hiccups #tummy noises #fluff #shigaraki #toga #mr compress #spinner #nausea #emeto #emetophilia

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moxfirefly · 3 years

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For MIKEY with a female companion please?!?!?

59. "How mad would you be if we took a break for pizza rolls?"

47. "I know we're just friends but you're sitting on my lap and I'm so sorry if I get hard."

11. "Sit on my face immediately."

Hello there! Yes I can. Also I’m tagging @annaliaandtheturtles on this too because you basically asked for the same prompts so I hope you don’t mind friend!

Also I’ve been dying to these with my orange boi so let’s get it.

Rated Explicit/Comedy? (18+ only)

This didn’t exactly feel like a very ‘friendly’ thing to do, in fact this isn’t something friends do and while those thoughts did race in your head along with warning bells, you simply ignored it.

Because seriously, friends do not in any way shape or form platonically dry hump each other.

Naturally this evening your plans didn’t exactly consist of this to begin with. Michelangelo had shown up after patrol, looking a little more bruised up than usual and somewhat glum. He’d explained the hiccup during patrol had been partly his fault and he’d gotten the stern big brother(s) talk from all 3 of his eldest siblings.

It wasn’t fun.

Being the baby had its perks but at moments like this is truly annoyed him that at his twenty one years of age he was still being treated like this whenever he messed up. So he knew he could blow off steam with you by just being away from the Lair for the rest of night.

You noticed how affected he was by it all, the usual peppy banter not there and the way he hissed when he moved around his seat spoke of the nights events. So what? You had sat on his lap, side saddle and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. You’d given him your own stern talk, but this one filled with a lot more praise for his skills, wits and strength. His blue orbs had shone, he’d really needed that.

You’d hugged him, he’d hugged back (somewhat shyly wrapping his arms around your midsection) and it had been a nice long embrace. He’d felt your hand rub his shell, he’d rubbed a soft circle on your back.

When you leaned back you gave him a quick, albeit friendly, peck on the lips. Which wasn’t a big deal, right? Of course not, so what Mikey felt his cheeks heat up? And you chuckled nervously because his lips were insanely soft?

Not. A. Big. Deal.

There had been a solid five minutes of silence with Mikey bitting the inside of his cheeks and you adjusting your weight on his lap. He had winced again some what and you feared you’d sat on some bruise. You were about stand up and let him have his reprieve when he kept you there. “Um, uh...” He swallowed, brow ridges raised. “Mikey? You alright th-“ You fixed your posture and he looked away.

“I know we’re just friends but you’re sitting on my lap and I’m so sorry if I get hard” He basically spoke it to the floor, clearly embarrassed of the predicament but more so because you did feel something rather, well hard poking your backside. Your ‘oh’ face was followed by your cheeks heating up, but something inside of you urged you on. A gentle press of your palm to his cheek moved his face back into your line of sight.

And while your brain chanted ‘you’re just friends you’re just friends YOU’RE JUST FRIENDS’ it seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. You had leaned in and kissed him.

It never dawned on you that one simple kiss could lead to such a turn of events:

That included a thorough dry hump session where the chair had started to dangerously creak. By then you had unglued yourself from him but your hands had urged him on to follow, pressed against the table Mikey had kissed you again like a possessed man. Pent up didn’t summarize it, pent up couldn’t exactly explain it. It didn’t explain the tearing of your shirt from your head or your shaking hurried hands untying the jacket around his waist. It didn’t explain you both kissing sloppily towards the living room because the bed felt too far away and Mikey was tripping on kicking off his own shoes.

The laundry list of questions that ran through Mikey’s head were pretty much the same ones you had. Would this ruin the friendship? Were the two of you secretly in love? Was being in love with your best friend a good topic to bring up when you had your hand down said best friend’s shorts?

Mikey moaned, so did you.

Questions could maybe take a back seat for now.

His eyes fell on your chest, desire evident in his pretty blue eyes and so you tore yourself away from him long enough to catch one another’s breathes and unhooked your bra. You’d never seen somebody look equal parts shocked and excited, but there he was a shaking mess as his eyes looked from your chest to your eyes. “Yes for Christ sake have at them” You half laughed and commanded him, Mikey’s ‘right right’ only made you laugh more when he cupped them.

To say he had dreamt about this moment was a true understatement. Getting to do it? Actually holding such soft pieces of flesh, and god they were soft, Mikey felt he should maybe thank god or the closest affiliate. But it still nagged at him that this was all happening with you, with his Brest friend.

His breast friend who has the softest and most beautiful-

Focus man.

“Y/n I know this is like happening but I don’t want us to be weird afterwards because you’re well my bestie dude, and well- this isn’t weird right? We’re good?” You had never seen such a level of concern for somebody literally grabbing a hold of your tits.

This was absolutely bonkers.

“Do you want to stop?” It was firm, you weren’t going to allow whatever exactly this was, cloud your judgement. Mikey’s hands slid from their hold to rest of your waist. He thought, he honest to god pushed all desire away for five excruciating seconds and thought if maybe it was best to discuss this.

It also dawned on him that he was starving.

Impressive how the mind and body work.

Mikey’s gaze landed on yours, “How mad would you be if we took a break for pizza rolls? Just to like get our bearings man, I want to do this but-” How he was doing this while still staring at your boobs was impressive, you shook your head with a smile.

“Look at your being the mature one. I guess we should talk about this first and I wouldn’t mind some pizza rolls” You picked up his jacket, opting for putting that on since it covered most of you, Mikey couldn’t help but feel kinda giddy about that. He also couldn’t help his smile when you grabbed his hand and went back to the kitchen with him in toe.

Having a beautiful girl in nothing but his jacket pulling out two bags of Tostino’s pizza rolls while simultaneously trying to curb your hard on to take a break, was no easy feat for him. “I’ve got five cheese and pepperoni, who am I asking of course you want pepperoni, you want the entire bag?” You were already depositing the entire bag on the tray, going over to turn the oven on (because you knew how he hated when it was microwaved).

Mikey blinked at you.

You were making him pizza rolls, in the oven, you were giving him a Costco size bag all for himself, you were beautiful and absolutely a smokeshow of a woman.

“Holy shit I’m in love with you” It dawned on him so easily and so clearly and so abruptly.

You smiled, he looked so adorably flustered but happy. Mikey being happy due to you had always done that, it had always made you warm and excited. Somewhere along those lines the answer was there, it had just decided to announce itself now.

“I’m in love with you too, I can’t believe it took us nearly fucking” You covered your mouth, laughter bubbling up to the surface, Mikey couldn’t help it too, he started laughing with you. After a few seconds the two of you sighed contended with each other’s confessions.

You walked over towards him and threw your arms around him. Mikey hugged you tightly, your aroma so pleasant and comforting, he was happy it would be on his hoodie for a few days. He liked it even more that he would get to feel you like this, against him all warm and soft.

“Do you maybe wanna try this again and we’ll eat the pizza rolls afterwards?” You asked a little embarrassed by how turned on you still were.

He could have a beautiful girl? He could have pizza rolls with said beautiful girl afterwards? And she liked him back too?

“Sit on my face immediately” He responded without hesitation.

#tmnt bayverse #mikey tmnt #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #Mikey #Michelangelo #ask #lithebunnyq #annaliaandtheturtles #smut prompts #ns*w

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songbirdstyles · 4 years

Text

kodachrome.

summary: you give harry a camera for his birthday and the two of you are more than excited to put it to good use.

warnings: smut, 18+

word count: 5k

song inspo.: kodachrome - paul simon

It’s true that you may have had ulterior motives with Harry’s birthday gift.

His hands are delicate, fingertips running across the surface of the Polaroid camera as though he’d break it if his grip got any tighter. The packs of film you’d purchased with the camera rest on the coffee table, being thoroughly ignored while Harry examines his gift, and you duck your head just a bit to read his expression. Slightly confused, brows furrowed, a small grin tugging at his lips - it’s what you’d expected with a gift like this, because it isn’t as though either of you need a camera. Surely both of your phones are better quality than the photos you’ll be taking with the Polaroid but it’s for the aesthetic, you suppose.

“Do you like it?” you question, voice soft.

Harry rests the camera on his lap and glances up at you, large hand moving to rest over your knee through your jeans. “Well, I love it, ‘course.”

There’s a second part of his response that’s left unsaid - perhaps the question of why you’d gotten him it - so you lean in, chin resting on your boyfriend’s shoulder and your lips drifting dangerously close to his ear. Just enough that you know his jeans are growing tighter and he shifts in his seat on your living room couch as if to prove it to you. “Thought it might be fun to start taking pictures of each other.”

A beat passes with silence, and then he turns his head to look at you, nearly bemused by the concept, as though he doesn’t know exactly what you’re implying. “Wha’ kinda pictures?”

You hum softly, reaching over to the coffee table to pick up one of the film packages, already beginning to tear open the wrapper. “The kind that’ll make touring more fun for both of us.”

Harry pauses, eyes narrowing at your fingers ripping open the crinkly film packaging, and you can practically hear his rebuttal of the idea before he says it. “Thought we said no nudes - people could find ‘em, babe.”

“Physical copies are more secure than digital ones,” you tell him, picking up the camera from his lap to put the film in. “Are you telling me you don’t want to take pictures of me sucking you off to have with you on tour? ‘Cause that’s very out of character for you, Mr. Styles.”

He snorts and the familiar sound is like music to your ears, and then he reaches over to grab the film-loaded Polaroid from your hands, fingers tracing over the small rainbow printed on the front of the camera. “I do,” he confesses, voice dropping in a way you recognize all too well, and your stomach drops with it. “Yeah, I do.”

You lean sideways, resting against the arm of the couch as Harry shifts to face you, raising the camera up to his face with a grin gracing his lips that doesn’t at all match the mood of what you do next - mere seconds before Harry takes the picture, you grip onto the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your chest for the camera to capture as his mouth drops into a soft ‘o.’

The click of the photo being taken is nearly deafening against the sudden thick silence, flash blinding you for just a moment and you’re left blinking furiously to regain sight as Harry lowers the camera to his lap. The camera spits out the photo, still white and undeveloped, and he picks it up with delicate fingers to rest it on the couch cushion between you two.

Your shirt drops back over your chest as you shift closer to Harry, pretending like you don’t hear the way his breathing has picked up and how his eyes keep darting to examine your side profile as if trying to see if you’re as affected as the photo as he is - and you are, of course. It’s possibly one of the hottest things you could ever imagine doing with him, taking photos like that, and you can’t lie and say that the redness blooming in his cheeks isn’t adding to the moisture you’re feeling in your panties.

You drag your thumb over the image slowly developing on the Polaroid between you. You can see the beginnings of the outline of your body, though it’s too light to discern the details yet. “Starting to come to. What do you think?”

It’s a stupid question and you already know the answer but it’s more gratifying to hear the way Harry’s voice cracks as he begins, “S’hot.”

“Just hot?”

“Like, g’na cum in m’pants hot.”

You grin and Harry turns his head and it’s practically all you can do to lean in, press your lips to his and feel his hand, pressing to your thigh and sliding upwards. Even through your jeans, his fingers so close to the spot you’re yearning for him has your stomach turning, and you raise your palm to press delicately against his cheek, holding his face close to yours. His breath smells and tastes like the birthday cake you’d been eating in the kitchen with a tinge of expensive wine from dinner with all of your friends but above all he tastes like Harry, the man you love so much, the man who’s reaching down to the couch between you two and picking up the Polaroid with two careful fingers.

“Look,” Harry hums softly as he pulls away from you and you look down at the picture to examine it with him. It’s you, in full color, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt tight above your breasts, exposing the cherry-red bra you’re donning beneath. It’s Harry’s favorite bra of yours - meant to be a surprise for later tonight but you don’t think he’ll mind seeing it early. The photo cuts off halfway up your face but you can see your smirk, smug as you saw the shock on his face just as the photo took. “S’developed.”

Harry’s soft moans are like music to your ears - like a favorite song and you’d love nothing more than to listen to it on repeat, plug in your headphones and tilt your head back until it’s stuck in your head like an earworm.

For now, though, you’re more than content to enjoy them in the moment, and God, you’re enjoying it. He’s always vocal in bed but even more so when you ride him, when his fingers are digging bruises into your thighs to help your movements up and down and the only words that manage to fall off of his lips are breathy cries of your name like prayer, as though you’re a goddess and he’s merely a worshipper at your altar.

Your hips slow into a gentle roll against his, clit brushing up against his pelvic bone in a way that has a chill rolling up your spine, and your hand slides from its place on Harry’s chest to his throat. Wraps around his neck just so, squeezing experimentally to listen to the way his moans crackle in the thick, humid air of your London bedroom, and a rush of arousal gushes to your core at the sight and sound.

“Look at me,” you order Harry, and you think you understand why he’s always so reluctant to hand you the reins when you want them. There’s something special about being above him, knowing that you can control what he does with just an authoritative lilt in your voice - even if he has the strength to flip you over at any moment. Deep down, you reckon he likes being below you sometimes just as much as you adore being on top. When he doesn’t obey your commands, eyes still rolled to the back of his head, you pause your movements completely, and his eyes fly open as if you’d pried them open. “Look at me, Har.”

You tighten your hand around his throat again as his eyes bore into yours, pupils clouded with lust that you’re sure are reflected in your own. When you’re positive he won’t look away from you, his hips bucking up in just the slightest for any semblance of movement, you resume your motions. Roll your hips just once against his, moan catching in your throat, and you keep going. You lift your hips up, thighs trembling to hold yourself up before sinking back down, feeling him fill you again and again.

“Fuck -” Harry gasps, tone cracking and you grin down at him, slamming your hips into his hard enough that the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowers his voice - but it doesn’t, and you’re oh so glad that you could hear it. “Feels - feels so good, babe.”

As dominant as you’re trying to be, his praise nearly makes you break and it would be the perfect moment for him to grab your thighs and flip you over but you regain your composure just as fast as you’d lost it. Your voice is shaky as you loosen your grip ever so slightly on his neck, leaning backwards enough so your clit is on display for him, glistening wet with the mixture of your juices together. “R - rub my clit for me.”

And he complies, hand sliding down his sweaty abdomen until two fingers are pressed to your clit, rubbing soft circles into the overly sensitive nub but you don’t want soft, you want hard. So you push your body forward, pressing your clit further into his fingers and he’s not stupid - he catches the hint and presses down harder, circles tightening into hard rubs that has your head dropping back, sweaty hair sticking to your back.

“God,” you tell him, rocking your hips more against his as a reward, “feels so good, Har. Doin’ so good - keep doing that.”

And he does, of course. Keeps rubbing your clit like he was born for it and in return you ride him with the new form of vigor that he earns, eyes rolling back into your head. When you look back down at him, grip tightening like a noose around his throat, you’re nearly overwhelmed by how fucking spectacular he looks. All sweaty hair, mouth dropped open in a permanent ‘o’ and his eyes struggling to stay open.

You could decide to merely engrave it in your brain for all eternity, but you have a better idea to memorialize it.

You swallow thickly, hips slowing to a near halt as Harry’s eyes fly completely open, threatening to complain. “R - reach into the drawer, Har. The nightstand.”

You can read the confusion on his face clear as day but he follows your orders, reaching over to tug open the nightstand drawer. Sitting inside, clear as day, sits the white Polaroid camera, and Harry knows what to do before you tell him to. He picks it up with one shaky hand and you immediately reach to grab it from him, turning it over briefly in your hands before raising it up to your face.

Briefly your hips roll over his, gentle but enough for him to rest his head back into his pillow, lips turning upwards into a satisfied grin and you know that’s the best shot you’ll get - his face contorted with pleasure, hair spread out over the pillow, and the flash of the picture being taken only makes the scene look that much more angelic.

You grab the photo with two shaking fingers and lift it up to examine it, resting the camera on the bed beside you. It hasn’t developed and so you shake it just for a moment, feeling increasingly needy to fucking see it but you know it will take time - and you certainly have a lot of that.

“Open up,” you direct and he obeys, mouth dropping open and you insert the picture onto his mouth, watching his teeth and lips clamp onto it. “Now, keep it nice like that ‘till it develops. You can do that, can’t you? ‘Course you can.”

“Keep those eyes on me, babe.”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, eyes rolling nearly completely back in your head as you search to meet Harry’s. When your eyes find his it’s difficult to maintain, vision nearly completely upside down as you hang off the edge of the bed of your Malibu hotel room, fingers gripping so tight onto the duvet you’d be surprised if your nails hadn’t torn through the fabric. Gripping the coversis the only way to not reach out for Harry’s thighs and he’d forbid you from doing so with the threat of not being able to cum - a risk you’re rather unwilling to take.

His fingers brush your neck, surely searching for the bulge indicative of how far his cock is shoved down your throat, and you can tell he’s found it when he squeezes just hard enough to have your vision go fuzzy. Your tongue swirls around the swollen tip of his cock, feeling him slide out of your mouth just enough for you to press a gentle kiss to the tip, his hiss showing how much he appreciated the gesture before he’s pushing back in your mouth.

He’d been starting slow, fucking your throat gentle to make sure you’re alright with it. It’s not often that you do this - you prefer to be on your knees for him, with his hands in your hair to occasionally force you to go faster. But there is certainly something better about this, struggling to keep your eyes open and feeling blood rush to your head while trying to keep your sore jaw wide open for Harry to fuck.

Eventually, though, the slow pace had been abandoned and you can feel him picking up the pace, hips bucking into your face just fast enough to make you feel like you’re losing your damn mind but you wouldn’t have it any other way, even if you’re nearly gagging on him with every other thrust.

“God,” Harry moans, and through your blurred vision you can see his palms coming down to cup your face, using his leverage on your cheeks to increase his speed. “God, look so fuckin’ - fuckin’ pretty, baby. So pretty, takin’ my dick so well. Look at tha’ - moan f’me, babe.”

And you do, of course. You moan desperately and it’s muffled as his pelvis presses nearly flat to your face, holding himself there, and your cheeks hollow as you suck him, and you watch him toss his head back with sheer ecstasy and it encourages you to hold out for just another extra second before your hand flies towards his thigh, smacking twice, and he pulls out of you immediately until only the tip of his member rests on your tongue.

His thumbs massage your jawline as you flick your tongue over the tip of his cock, taking the second of pause to catch your breath and relish in his touch. It’s only a moment, though - you jerk your head just once up and he takes the gesture as it is, an invitation to keep going.

“There y’go,” Harry breathes, hands sliding downwards until he’s grasping your throat, heels of his hands massaging the lump in your throat as he had before. “Should take a picture of you - remember this forever.”

Do it, you want to shout at him. You love when he takes pictures and you’d love nothing more than to see yourself from his perspective but it seems that he didn’t need your suggestion - resting on the bed is his Polaroid camera from when you’d dumped your bags when you’d first gotten to the hotel and it’s become a traveling staple since you’d gotten it for him - you two never forget to bring it with you.

His fumbling hands raise the camera to his face, cock still thrusting in and out of your willing mouth and you make sure your eyes are open when the flash goes off, the click intensely loud in the hotel room. Your tongue swirls around his cock, grinning as Harry pulls the photo from the bottom of the camera and tosses it onto the bed, hand sliding down from your throat to your tits and his fingers pluck at your nipple just as the flash goes off again and the camera spurts out another image.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” your boyfriend murmurs, hips thrusting his cock further into your mouth and you gag around him before loosening your throat to take him, no way of encouraging him to continue but he doesn’t need it. “M’so fuckin’ close - and m’gonna cum on your face, and in your mouth, too. D’you want that?”

You nod.

“Knew you would.” His face is nearly adoring as he stares down at you and it’s an expression that doesn’t match the absolute filth of what’s in your mouth. “When I’ve painted your face like - like fuckin’ Michelangelo - m’gonna take another picture, and then m’gonna fuck you.”

It sounds just about perfect to you and you nod vehemently, Harry’s palm closing in around your breast and squeezing and in turn, you tighten your throat around his length and it gets the response you’d wanted - a sharp buck of his hips, and then he pulls out of your mouth.

Your lips close in around the tip of his cock, sucking on the swollen head and you can tell by the way his head drops back that he’s there - just a moment later, his hand pumping his cock, thick ribbons of cum spurt from the head and it’s warm as it lands on your face, and your tongue darts out to lick at the bit of it that had landed near your lips.

His breathing is heavy, desperately trying to catch his breath and it has a rush of pride coursing through your veins - only you do this to him, leave him needy and desperate and just as the smirk graces your lips, he’s muttering, “Say cheese,” and the flash illuminates your hotel room once more.

There’s something almost relaxing about having Harry’s face between your thighs.

It’s a sensation you’ll never tire of no matter how often it happens - and with his absolute adoration for the act, it happens often. Sometimes it’s hard and intense, fingers digging into your thighs and leaving bruises that won’t vanish for days, but other times - like now - it’s nearly offhanded. Lazy and gentle, his tongue swirling around your clit as your fingers lightly brush through your hair, your free hand clutching Harry’s Polaroid, waiting for the best moment to take the picture you’re yearning.

Your fingernails scratch at his scalp, digging deeper into his head as his teeth brush against your clit just enough to have your back arching upwards, hips bucking up into his mouth as a soft moan escapes your throat. You can practically feel Harry smirking as his tongue rests flat over your folds, juices gushing to the apex of your thighs at the motion.

His breath is hot against your cunt as his lips close around your clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud and his palms smooth up and down your thighs, gently holding your lower body down before your hips can buck up to meet his mouth again. “Try not to move,” Harry mumbles against your pussy, voice sending vibrations rolling through your body and a chill slithers up your spine, head dropping back onto the arm of your living room couch. The movie playing on the television - Groundhog Day - has been long forgotten, abandoned from the moment he pushed you to lie on the couch and pushed off your sweatpants. “C’mon, baby - stay still f’me.”

You swallow thickly, raising the camera to your face and peering at Harry through the small screen. You can’t see his face - just the mess of curls on top of his head and your fingers combing through the locks - his palms, smoothing over your thighs gently - his eyelashes, on display while his eyes remain shut with pleasure. He tells you, again and again, that he loves eating you out more than you do and you’ve always rolled your eyes because there’s no way in hell he likes it more than you -

But sometimes you do believe him.

“Do that again, Har,” you murmur, voice dropping into a breathy cry as Harry repeats what you’d asked him to, his nose nudging at your clit while his tongue flicks at your folds. It’s at that moment that you take the first picture, flash illuminating the slick that coats your mound in a way you hadn’t noted before - at the sudden brightness Harry looks up and you can see your wetness surrounding his chin and mouth, pure proof of how hard he’s been working your cunt, and you take another picture.

The two images fall into your palms and you rest them on your stomach, tugging your shirt further up your torso so they lay flat on your skin. Harry’s eyes drift upwards for just a moment, scanning the faded outline of your legs wrapped around his shoulders and you can see the beginnings of a smirk working his lips before he turns back to the task at hand, tongue parting your cunt before it slips inside of you, thrusting in and out.

“Fuck,” you breathe, legs tightening around his shoulders and forcing his head further into your cunt, and he moans into your folds at the motion. “Fuck!”

“Y’like tha’?” Harry questions, voice rolling through your body again and you toss your head back with a moaning sob, pushing your hips further up to him. “Yeah, y’do.”

“Har -” you swallow thickly as his lips close around your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. “Har - oh my god, I’m gonna - gonna cum -”

“Cum f’me,” and his voice is gruff and desperate, practically a plead for you to cum on his tongue, to bless him with your juices. “Cum on m’tongue.”

Whatever he’d been spouting before about keeping still is long forgotten, your hips bucking upwards to meet his mouth as your orgasm washes through you. It’s intense and near brutal, not any sort of match for the energy Harry had been maintaining but it doesn’t matter - it’s so relieving that you don’t try to fight it, just let your body relax and your head fall back with what’s nearly a scream.

His flexed tongue continues lazily thrusting in and out of your cunt, helping you through your orgasm like it hadn’t affected him one bit but you know that isn’t true. You can see his lips, turned into a grin and his eyes darkened when he glances up at you, hands on your thighs sliding across your skin until his thumbs lazily pull apart your lips, giving him easier access to the parts of you he craves.

He’s going for your second orgasm - you know that. And you also know it won’t be too long until you get there, especially when his thumb focuses on your clit, massaging the over-sensitive nub as your cunt clenches vehemently around his tongue.

Click. One final picture, of Harry’s hands and face pressed to your pussy, devoted to getting you off and not worried in the slightest about his own neediness. When you’ve rested it to your stomach, next to the other two fully-developed images, you let your arm fall off the side of the couch, letting the camera slip from your fingers and land silently on the carpet, more than intent to focus solely on your boyfriend between your thighs.

Within moments you’re at the edge again, Harry’s face deepening between your thighs to help you ride out your second. Your hips roll against his lips, his thumbs rubbing your clit until you’re sobbing out towards the ceiling, heels digging into his back and forcing his body towards yours. You’re so lost in the sensation, in fact - and on the developed Polaroids sitting on your tummy - you hardly register his mumble of, “Think y’got a third one f’me?” But when you do -

Fuck.

On Harry’s next birthday, you have a very different gift idea planned.

The plane tickets to Greece were the main course - a vacation you’d both dreamt of taking for as long as you’d known each other and you’d never gotten around to it, but you figure there’s no time like the present to knock it off your bucket list. And you could tell Harry was overjoyed, turning and wrapping you in a hug so large you nearly fell off of your seat in the middle of his favourite restaurant.

The side to the main course, though - the appetizer? - is what you’d been waiting for him to open, and not in the middle of the restaurant. It’s only when you two get home, your arms hooked together, giggling like teenagers as Harry fumbles with his keys, that you pull out the small envelope with his name scribbled on the front in red pen.

“Go ahead,” you tell him, pushing yourself to sit on the marble countertops in your kitchen while Harry situates himself between your legs, turning the envelope over in his hands with the same lingering curiosity he’d held last year. “It’s not gonna bite you, Har. Just open it.”

He rolls his eyes at that, a grin tugging his lips upwards as his fingers dig into the paper, tearing the envelope delicately open and you can tell he’s trying not to rough up the wrapper too much, in case he’ll want to keep it for sentimentality but you’re positive that, once he finds what’s inside, he won’t care too much.

Then he dumps the contents of the envelope onto your lap, ten small Polaroid pictures falling onto your dress where it covers your thighs, some face up and some down and as soon as Harry’s eyes scan then, you can see the red blush creeping up his cheeks.

“You fuckin’ minx,” he breathes, and you grin, leaning forward to drop your forehead against his shoulder just as Harry picks up the first Polaroid. Turning it over in his hands you glance down to look at which one he’s examining - it’s a close up he’d taken, his palm wrapped around your neck tight enough that his fingers turned white and you can remember the exact moment. How you’d whined and begged him to go harder, to God, fuck me like a whore, Har, and he’d responded by grabbing your throat so tight you saw stars before he released you.

“I like that one,” you confess, nail dragging over the edge of your jawline where it’s cut off by the camera before you reach down to your lap, overturning every image so you can see them all before grabbing one. “This one - it’s my favorite, though.”

You hold the picture up for Harry to see, watching his eyes narrow as he scrutinizes it. It’s a picture of his back, taken when he’d been bent over putting on pants the morning after Valentine’s Day - you’d intended to be inconspicuous, memorializing the array of deep red scratches you’d left on his skin the night before and you were beyond grateful when you saw the developed image. He’d complained when he heard the click of the camera, telling you that if anyone gets their hands on this, they’ll think I’m being abused - but you knew he liked it, because you caught him peeking at it on your dresser during the next few weeks.

It’s a nice thing to do to include it in his gift, though you’d love nothing more than to frame it on your wall to have there forever.

Harry hums gently, grabbing the picture from your fingers and dropping it back to your lap. You can feel his fingertips, drumming along your thighs as he sorts through the photos. “I remember this one,” he tells you, picking up the end of one of the pictures so you can both see it. Your cheeks flush when you see it - you’d picked it to commemorate the very first (and certainly not the last) time the two of you had tried anal. “God, came so fuckin’ hard tha’ day. Look at tha’ - how red your ass is, fuckin’ beginn’ be to spank you -”

“Alright,” you interrupt, feeling heat creep up your neck to your cheeks as you smack the photo out of his hands. It’s a shaky picture, taken while he was balls deep in your ass, his palm spreading your cheeks apart to get the best angle of his cock inside of you - you remember how good it felt, watching the flash illuminate the room and hearing Harry moan as the photo developed where he’d placed it on your back. The Polaroid lands back on your lap and you reach down, sorting through the array of images until you find the one you’re searching for. “Here - thought you’d like this one the most.”

And - God - when he sees it, grabbing it out of your hands to examine up close, you swear you can hear him whine with need as he brings it up to his eyes. It’s a photo of the two of you in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror that had been at one of your hotel rooms and neither of you could pass up the chance to watch yourselves during the moment. Your dress, pulled down over your chest, his hand covering your breasts with his head buried in your neck, and you remember feeling him pressed inside of you, both so desperate and needy that you needed to capture it.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” You prod, pressing your lips to the side of Harry’s throat as his head drops to the side. It was, perhaps, the best sex you two had ever had - you couldn’t walk for a week without thinking of him. “You love it.”

“I do love it,” he confirms, hand snaking around your side to begin tugging your dress up your sides. “Reckon it’s not too early to start working on another year’s worth of pictures?”

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #i hate this so much i didnt even reread it to edit it #also writing 1k words EXACTLY for each section was not a smart decision in hindsight #but whatever.#too late now!

2K notes · View notes

starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter 14

This took a bit longer than I thought it would 😀 life kinda said lol to me for a while.

“Augh!” Scott cried out. He breathed in desperately, but his mouth filled with water.

Sitting up and rolling to his side, he coughed out a stream of water. Groaning when he finished. Scott sat up wearily, blocking the sun from his face.

It was warmer than usual. He was sitting in a waist high pool of water, around his shoulders as he was sitting down, which was a warm brown color. Behind him he could hear the roar of the river he had floated in from.

Scott rubbed his eyes and gauged the pain in his bruising shoulder. He felt like something was missing when he noticed.

“Tango?” He called out. A twinge of frantic concern escaped in his voice. Scott turned in every direction, scanning the surroundings for any sign of his friend.

What if they’d been separated in the river? What if his friend had drowned?

His anxiety was at its peak when another person sat up from under the water. Sputtering and flailing about, Tango had been hidden under the murky pond.

Scott fell backwards in surprise, his shock eased when he saw his friend, who looked alright enough. Tango seemed satisfied with the amount of water he discarded, looking up he met Scott’s eyes.

Tango’s eyes widened with relief, he laughed, it looked slightly painful, but he pulled the other into a tight embrace.

“Are you alright?” he pulled back, looking Scott over for any sign of harm.

“I’m fine, uh, except for the shoulder,” Scott replied.

“Oh, yeah,” Tango got to his feet. He held a hand out for the other to take.

Once they had waded to the mucky shore, Tango ordered Scott to enter the trees while he ran to the other side of the pond. Tango hastily did so, looking up and around the area. Scott could see a triumphant expression make it’s way onto his face.

“Come here,” Tango motioned when he got back to Scott, “look,” he pointed skywards.

Scott followed his line of sight up into the sky. Right above the trees, a line of grey smoke floated into the sky.

“What is it?” he asked.

Tango smiled, “The Crastle,” he exclaimed.

After a while of enduring wet socks through a lightly wooded area. The Crastle came into view. It was nearly sundown now, and Scott recognized where they were. Almost dead in front of the castle and it’s moat, the drawbridge was still down. For the sun was not gone yet.

Tango crouched in the last bit of trees, surveying the barren, icy field that housed the humble fort. Deciding they had to go at some point, he told Scott to come. They jogged low through the tall stretches of grass, then hastily across the drawbridge.

Kneeling behind a small decorative wall, Tango went to the door while Scott stayed in place. He knocked on the door politely, but hard enough to provoke any inhabitants to answer.

A few moments passed and a small circle of wood slid out of the door. A peephole, and an eye appeared in it. Tango leaned down to make his identity known, which may have been a stupid thing to do in hindsight. What if a member of Dogwarts had been visiting?

The door swung open. Cleo’s already wide eyes were impossibly wider. Although her face could not go pale, one could imagine that it did.

Quickly, all three rushed inside. The doors and windows were slammed shut and locked.

Without even a hello, Cleo whipped around to face the two fugitives. Hands poised on her hips.

“What on Earth are you two doing here?” she seethed. Her eyes were angry, her teeth gritted.

“We need help,” Tango replied. Putting his hands up in mock surrender.

Scott had never been aquatinted with the girl before. Cleo and her friend Bdubs lived a relatively secluded life in the Crastle together. They did not have to ask to be left alone, both were a force to be reckoned with when under threat.

Soldiers by nature, Cleo and Bdubs defended their small claim to a normal life with everything they could. Scott understood their seclusion. Had he not been doing the same?

“Yeah you do,” Cleo nearly laughed. Tango didn’t look very amused.

“Not funny, Cleo, we both almost died,” he said with a tired frown.

She dropped the mirthful expression. Nodding, “You shouldn’t have come here,” she looked away.

“Cleo. Please,” Tango reached for her thin hand, which was worn and frail looking from accumulating years of war and hardship.

Cleo’s eyes met his in a silent response. Not to his plea, she would never have said no to him.

“A week,” she bargained.

Scott felt like an outsider to their relationship. He knew they had been close for a long time. Then he knew of Cleo’s heartbroken anger towards the man for betraying their alliance. Even if he was pretending. Tango hid his truer feelings under various layers of hostility and irony. Now that they were all in the room together, it was obvious, at least in part, what had been eating away at his friend for the past months.

Back in the cow farm Scott always wondered why Tango made such an effort to help him through his guilt of lying to Jimmy. To Scott, there was no way anyone could understand what he was going through. Now though, he knew Tango was feeling the same way about the Crastle Folk.

“Thank you Cleo,” brightness returned to Tango’s eyes. He shook her hand gratefully.

A smile found its way onto the girl’s face as well. She pat him on the shoulders in place of a hug. They turned back to Scott, who was sat on a chest holding his shoulder.

“We should fix that,” Cleo pointed out the obvious.

After a bit of shuffling around in cabinets and chests, Cleo had started wrapping Scott’s arm in a strap of bandages. She talked about healing it up in no time, a healing potion once a day. Good as new. As long as he kept it in the cast.

She wrapped a piece of fabric around his neck to carry his Arm in, then gave him his first healing potion.

It was silent for a while. The three of them doing random tasks to pass the time, sweeping up the invisible dirt on the floor, examining the titles of a small collection of books on the countertop, and using one had to clean a wound.

A knock at the door halted the peaceful atmosphere. Tango and Scott instinctively found their ways to each others’ side. Suddenly aware of every curtained window.

Cleo quietly approached the door. She slid the peephole open slightly, squinting through. Turning around quickly, she whispered.

“It’s Impulse,” her expression was fearful.

Tango didn’t share her concern. At all. He smiled, going to the door.

“Alone?” he asked.

Cleo nodded.

“Let him in,” he said. Cleo looked at him like he had three heads.

He repeated himself and she hesitated, but she opened the door. Only slightly, so Impulse would only see her. They exchanged unintelligible words before Impulse was granted access to the Crastle.

He looked around. Scott and Tango both waved at him a bit awkwardly. Both of them immediately conscious of how haggard they must look.

Impulse sighed with relief. He put his sword down against the wall and went to meet his friends, pulling the both of the into a hug.

“Are you okay?” he studied each of their faces for any signs of being hurt, save for the now patched wound on Scott’s forehead and his broken shoulder.

“Somehow some way,” Scott muttered, retreating from the embrace.

This was the first time he was clearly able to see the other since their squabble at the desert battle. Impulse looked tired before anything else. Before relief or concern, he was clearly exhausted.

Scott looked away, a knowing part of him said “your fault,” which he made no effort to ignore.

“Impulse, I’m so sorry,” he admitted.

“It isn’t your fault. I’m the one who messed up, super bad. I understand how upset you are,” Scott worried with a strand of hair near the base of his head.

Impulse looked like he was forcing various thoughts off of his tongue, he simply said, “I’m glad you’re okay,” patting Scott on the shoulder.

He shifted his attention back to Tango. Scott backed away from the encounter, sitting on the staircase.

“What do we do now?” Impulse asked him.

Tango made a thoughtful face. His duty returned to him as he contemplated a new plan of action.

“Me and him will leave once it’s safe,” Tango gestured to himself and Scott, “we’ll hightail it to the Northern corner, in the border mountains. It will be safer there. Especially if we go underground,” he said.

Impulse nodded along, he asked, “when are we leaving?”

Tango hesitated, “you aren’t,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Impulse replied as if he’d been slapped.

“We’re going. We’ve been exposed, if I haven’t been as spy then I have as a traitor. Neither of us can stay here; but you can,” Tango said.

“You may have defied the Army at the trial today but you haven’t compromised yourself. Go back there and forget about the damn mission. Take care of him,” he ordered, hands coming to the other’s shoulders.

Impulse frowned deeply; but he nodded.

The moment was over seconds later. Impulse asked if he could stay for a while longer, just in case the Red Army showed up looking for them.

“Where should we stay while we’re here?” Scott asked Cleo.

She looked left in thought, then led them over to a double chest in the corner. It was full of many miscellaneous items. Broken pagers, cups, wood, and coal. Cleo lifted the bottom of the container up. All the contents came with it. They were glued to the surface.

Under the chest was a hole with a ladder. It went down some seven feet into what looked like a dark tunnel.

“Secret Tunnel!” Tango pumped his fist in the air, clearly amused.

Cleo and Impulse laughed along with him, clearly over a joke Scott didn’t understand.

Once everyone had clambered to the bottom of the pit, it became apparent what the “secret tunnel” truly was. There were rows of shelves lining the walls, each was stocked with various canned foods and bags of grain.

“Cleo! Have you been hoarding all the non-perishables on the entire map?” Scott exclaimed once he entered the cellar.

He picked up a can of corn, “How much of this do you have?”

Cleo stifled a laugh, “There’s still plenty being made in the village. It’s not my fault I actually take advantage of their generosity,” she said.

She plucked a can of carrots in gravy from one of the shelves, shaking it in his face. Scott grimaced at the prospect of eating carrots in gravy, but Cleo insisted they were fine heated up.

“So, this is home base, I’m assuming,” Tango said. He probably knew about the cellar already, having lived in the Crastle for a short time.

“Yes. For now. We could have given you the attic, but I wasn’t so sure you’d like to share it with the barn owls,” Cleo joked.

It was comforting that despite the circumstances, the small family-like clique could still be humorous with each other. The smiles of his servermates eased Scott’s racing mind. He leaned against a bare wall and slid to the dusty floor, near a furnace.

“It’s getting late, I need to leave,” Impulse piped up after an engaging back and forth about whether or not barn owls were actually in the attic, and if Tango was actually brave enough to go check.

The weight of a “goodbye” soured the mood immediately. Neither Scott, Tango, or Impulse knew how long it would be until they saw one another again. Nor did they know what unfortunate circumstances may arise while separated.

Tango shook Impulse’s hand, pulling it towards him and smiling reassuringly. Although it looked more like a grimace. Neither said goodbye, only good luck and be safe.

Scott’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, but when Impulse turned to him, he hung his head and hugged him; and they just stayed like that for a bit. Impulse ruffed up the other’s hair before pulling away. He shook Scott’s hand as well.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Scott said. Speaking it into existence.

“Soon”, is all Impulse replied before ascending the ladder. Cleo followed him to bid farewell.

The door upstairs shut and locked.

It was going to be a long winter.

#mcyt #mcytblr #3rd life smp #3rdlife #3rdlife smp #scott smajor #tangotek #impulsesv #zombie cleo #kingslayer au #cas types #the crastle #okay 👍

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nohoney · 3 years

Text

Tell Me (When You’re Ready) - 4.1

notes: Part 4 of the Us Series also on ao3

Us Series Masterlist

warnings: 18+, drug use, polyamory, low key manipulation, toxic relationships, cheating

summary:

He’s never been involved with anyone else the way he’s been with you, you’re all he thinks about and wants to have. It’s more than just liking you, this instinct to care for you, this obsession and desire he feels over you, he calls it love, it must be love.

4.1 ✧ 4.2 ✧ 4.3 ✧ 4.4

At first glance, Touya didn’t really think much of you the first time he had seen you.

You were just another random party goer to him, one of many he saw whenever he attended those kinds of things, easier to just sell to his clientele if they conglomerated in these kinds of functions, though with the slightly older ones they have to blend in better since they’re technically crashing a house party. University students, upcoming freshmeat, recently graduated alumni and some of their plus ones or more, it’s so easy to tell who the veterans are versus the greenhorns.

The ones who can hold themselves together versus the ones that need to be carried, the ones who can hold there liquor versus the ones that need to be babysat, the strong versus the weak.

And you were that in between, walking around cross faded with eyes that looked lost in space but when someone put a hand on your shoulder then you would come back to earth, but not with your feet touching the ground. Like your feet just barely skimming the surface but still wanting to float in the sky, streaming through a pleasant haze just a bit longer until the high ends and you’ll have no choice until it’s time to walk amongst the animals again.

You sat on the couch with a few girls, talking amongst themselves and no doubt grouped together to protect one another from the predators; who could resist drunk and weak girls, especially the ones who looked the most broken. The eyes of the boys on your group and hoping to try to break into the circle and pick off the weakest to break away the pack. They get especially eager when the group wants to drink more, but you and two friends decide to go outside to smoke a joint instead.

“I’m drunk, I need’a go outside.”

The first words he ever heard you say, though not the first he’s heard but it sounded cute the way you slurred them out.

His eyes followed you briefly, holding hands with a friend as you made your way to get to the outside for a smoke.

“Yo Dabi! Good to see you man!”

He passed discreet little baggies, pink and blue tablets, little pills, he always gets a pat on the back from the boys and winks from the girls.

The girls like him, more than a few offering a little something extra when he makes a successful sale. Two of his whores are at this party, the decent flings he goes back to every so often when he wants to get his dick wet and when they want his goods.

Good dick and good drugs, it’s nice to get a two for one sale.

The second time he sees you at the party, he’s just leaving a room and fixing his belt while you sit at the top of the stairs with a friend. You and your friend are engrossed in your conversation, more than likely a similar talk happening somewhere inside the house party because you talked about your regrets of the way you and your ex broke it off, just more drunk girl talk. “It was so… so fuckin’ stupid dude, I was drunk and he showed up. We fucked but whe’ I woke up the next day, I fuckin’ left and just didn’t talk to him again.”

The second thing he ever heard you say but Touya literally passed by three girls half an hour ago that had a similar conversation, yours was nothing special.

Touya always denies drinks, offers of lines and other things when he goes to these kinds of functions, he needs a clear mind when he deals. He’s not dumb as fuck when he’s high or when he’s on, he can handle himself quite well and could sell just as well even if he were, he just doesn’t want to be relaxed around people that he doesn’t know that well or trust. It would have been nice if Keigo tagged along but the fucker’s Adderall hadn’t worn off in time to accompany him. Keigo gives him a good break from the others, kinda resets him and then he goes back to his business.

But Keigo isn’t around so Touya settles for plowing girls in random rooms of the house to give him a brief recess and then he’s back out there.

The third time he sees you, you’re leaning against the body of a young man just a little taller than Touya but nothing in the way he holds you shows that he has any ill intentions towards you. It feels rare sometimes to see two people having a platonic friendship, especially between two people of the opposite sex. Touya’s already sold your friend whatever he wanted but sticks around to make conversation, though it’s an excuse because he can’t help but note the way you’re being held in your friend’s arms. He tries to not make it obvious as he talks but truthfully, Touya wanted to just look at you. It’s obvious that there’s nothing romantic in the way your friend holds you but for some reason, it doesn’t sit well with him.

Even with his eyes up on your friend, he can see how you cling to your friend’s body with your arms wrapped around him so securely and with so much trust. Touya notes how you’re practically purring as your friend pets your head, sometimes massaging the tips of his fingertips against your scalp and then rubbing your shoulder in comfort. And he can see how you peeked up at him a few times, your curious eyes on him but Touya recognizes the cloudy way you look up at him. It’s not out of interest in the way you looked at him but probably just wondering why he was around.

Eventually you stop looking at him and choose to shut your eyes, concentrating on your friend petting your head instead.

“You want to try anything (Name)? Dabi’s got the best shit I’ve ever had, pretty fucking primo.” your friend had offered but you shook your head and said no. And goddamn if it wasn’t the cutest no that Touya’s ever heard in his life, the third thing he's ever heard you say. “Girl’s been pretty curious about wanting to try coke but she hasn’t worked up the nerve to actually give it a try. You know what, lemme buy a half off you too and maybe this’ll be the night that she finally gives it a try.”

Touya went home wondering if you lost your cocaine virginity that night.

That question wouldn’t be answered until a couple month’s later after you and him shared a philosophy class together. Touya remembered you very clearly but for some reason, his gut twists a little when you spoke to him the first time and it’s clear that you didn’t remember him from the party. He decides to forgive you for not remembering him because he feels like he can’t stay mad at you, not with that cute face you have.

But it’s just like at the party, you don’t seem particularly interested in him but Touya’s interested in you so he decides to seek you out more. He starts to crave your attention but he doesn’t want to look like a fool if it’s a one-sided attraction so he lays the charm on you, calls you pretty names that he’s never used on other girls. At first Touya thinks that you can just be girl number nine, hopefully another easy hole for him to use when he has an itch to scratch.

Now Touya’s fucked a lot of girls. He’s taken innocent girls virginities before and he’s had some pretty wild sex with the campus sluts, but there’s something different about you. You’re not a prude, not in the way you flirt back and insinuate wanting to take a seat on his face sometimes, but you’ve got some untouched parts of you that he wanted to lay a claim on. He’d show you new things and hold your hand over what you’d be too scared to do on your own or with others, he’ll watch over you. Imagine his giddiness the first time he ever cut lines of coke for you, it turned out that your cocaine virginity belonged to him this entire time.

"Oh... it's not that bad!"

You took that line so good, how about you take my cock next?

You tease him, playing coy one moment and then acting like nothing happened next.

And normally with bitches that do that shit with him for too long, Touya drops them pretty fast and moves on to the next. A little flirting and teasing is fine but he’s not looking to play a long term game with that kind of bullshit, it’s either happening or it’s not.

But with you it’s different.

You’re different.

Touya starts to obsess over you so slowly that he doesn’t even recognize it at first. All he knows is that he has to have you, he ghosts four of his whores in favor of being with you even though there wasn’t a guarantee that he would get in your pants. He just dropped the ones that he sought for sex only, the other half are still his clientele so he keeps those ones around, plus they're still decent lays. Keigo notices it, the way his friend talks over some girl that he hasn’t even fucked yet and letting go of four of his side whores has him thinking, ‘Wow, she must be something to get Touya’s attention this bad.’

The semester starts to come to an end and he still hasn’t bagged you yet, he calls you his doll but you haven’t let him play with you. He places one of his whores face down and ass up after she does a few lines, imagines that it’s you underneath him and what you might sound like and its your ass he’s grabbing. Touya can imagine it, you weak underneath him and begging for his cock but when the bitch under him whines out ‘Dabi’, he almost loses his boner. He tells her to shut the fuck up and bite the pillow, doesn’t want to hear her stupid sounds because he wants to envision you instead.

But even imagining you calling him Dabi feels wrong, Touya rolling off your pretty lips as he paints your insides white… it blows him over the edge.

In his mind that’s what he wants, but you don’t get the right to call him by his real name. He doesn’t know you like that so you’re just like everyone else for now, referring to him as Dabi. At some point he figures that this fixation he has on you will burn out soon. And yet Touya finds himself drawn further to you, wanting you more and more, doesn’t want you to wander too far away from him and wants to know who you’re with when he’s not by your side.

And he wanted to fuck you too, so fucking bad.

His first try was with a night cap at his place, the first time Touya ever had a girl over in his space. But it seems you know your limitation on alcohol and don’t let him pour you an extra drop, wanting to be able to drive yourself home and be in decent shape for your lectures. He smokes you up one day and it goes in a good direction, you were relaxed and sending him some good signals that lead to the two of you making out. It didn’t go further because he got a phone call from his mother that he couldn’t possibly ignore, but you thought ‘Oh a mama’s boy, that’s so sweet.’

It’s the third time that he finally gets you, playing music in his car that gets you in the mood and that gets you naked in his backseat. He doesn’t know what made you ready all of a sudden but he didn’t stop to ask as you fervently sucked him off. You were more riled up than him, so excited to get his dick and that eager look in your eye when you commanded him to blow your back out. And he sure did not disappoint, he never disappoints when it comes to his dick.

And a relationship persists forward to the surprise of both of you, liking each other more than you thought you would but there were no labels yet, Touya wasn’t used to having a girlfriend so he didn’t want to call you that at first and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to be your boyfriend. Neither of you really spoke about what you were to one another despite the attraction and the lazy build of emotions that neither of you were aware of in the beginning. All Touya knew was that he wanted you to be around him more and be waiting for him when he returned back to his apartment.

It’s difficult to say when mutual attraction turned into the of you catching feelings for one another. You and Touya were hooking up for a couple of weeks after the end of the semester of the one class you shared together, and while he was aware that you were a little disgruntled at him fucking the girls he sells to, he didn’t think it was that big of a deal at the time. Didn’t he make it obvious that you’re different from them and that he only cared about you? So what if he got his dick wet from other girls aside from you? He’d been doing it before he started seeing you but he always came back to you afterwards, so why were you so pissed?

“It’s just business doll.”

It wasn’t official between the two of you yet so there wasn’t much you could say at the time. You just figured that if Touya liked you so much then he would stop and Touya figured that since you liked him just as much then you would understand.

But Touya remembers that night when he left to go sell at another house party, trying to spend time with you before he had to leave but you wouldn’t let him. He knew you were mad again because he just came back from selling to one of his whores which meant that, ‘Yes, she offered her pussy when I got there so we fucked.’ He honestly did not understand where your jealousy was coming from. You were there, sitting in his apartment and spending nights in his bed, he was doing shit with you that he’d never done with anyone else and you were still getting mad at him.

How did you not get that you were different from the rest of them?

But Touya wasn’t going to put more effort into making you feel better when you didn’t want to be cheered up, so he left to do his usual thing.

And when he came back to his apartment earlier than expected, which was only one in the morning, he found that your car was not in the guest parking and therefore you were not waiting for him inside his home. He tried ringing you to find out if you went back to your place but it went straight to voicemail so he goes to your home in hopes that you would have been there instead. But you’re not there when he arrives and you don’t answer his texts and phone calls still don’t go through."Fucking bitch! Where the hell are you?"

Touya can stay up until three in the morning at most if he’s not on anything but that night was the only night he had ever stayed up by just being angry alone. He was riled up and emotions all over the place, hands shaking so bad that he needed to punch something, almost considered putting his fist through his wall. He was fucking furious because he knows immediately that you went out to be with someone else, went to get fucked by some scum because you wanted to be a vindictive little cunt about what happened earlier.

He had practically barged into Keigo’s place and shook him awake in his bed because he didn’t know who to turn to.

“She’s out getting fucked. I fucking know she is!”

“Wha-? Touya…” Keigo groggily sat up in his bed and brushed off Touya's hands off his shoulders, blonde hair a mess from tossing and turning but he gives his friend his undivided attention. He hadn’t met you yet, had only seen pictures and nudes of you that Touya shared with him, but he’s pretty shocked over how outraged Touya is. He’d never seen his friend get so worked up over one girl before, so it speaks volumes to him to see Touya so unhinged. “What makes you say that? Maybe she’s out with friends or something. Just because she’s not back in her place doesn’t mean that she’s getting with another dude.”

But Touya’s gut said otherwise and he insisted that it was right.

“Okay man, I’m going to put some things in perspective for you. I don’t know this girl but it’s obvious that you’re into her… like a lot, but I can’t really blame her for going out to be with someone else if that’s what she’s doing right now. She can still go do what she wants just as much as you can. If you guys haven’t defined what you are to one another, especially with how you operate, then you don’t have much of a right to be telling her what to do.”

Touya was livid when you returned to your apartment, angry that you had the audacity to be so spiteful with him and furious at the thought of you underneath someone that wasn’t him. It fucking hurt him because he didn’t fuck the whores to make you angry, they didn’t mean anything to him compared to you. But in the aftermath of hatefucking turning into lovemaking, he still mulled over Keigo’s advice, deciding that maybe it would make you happy to call you his girlfriend if it meant that you wouldn’t go behind his back again. You're his favorite, his number one, his only one, if reassuring is what he has to do then he'll put up with it as long as he doesn't have to say it too often. And fine, if it really bugged you that much then he decided to make it fair by giving you permission to sleep with who you wanted provided that you always came back to him the same that he did with you.

Except that after he put it out there, he immediately regretted putting the offer out but knew that a fight would surely begin if he decided to take it back. Once again the thought of you being with someone else had got his teeth grinding and gave him anxiety. You’re his fucking girl, his precious doll that deserved to be put on a throne and be given whatever you wanted. Touya wanted nothing more than to protect you from assholes who didn’t appreciate you like your dumbass ex-boyfriend.

“(Name)’s really great, I’m glad the two of you are together. Though are you sure you’re okay with her seeing other guys too? I know you said it to be fair to her but I see you get bent out of shape if she’s even around just one of her guy friends.” Keigo puffed on cigarette, tapping some of the excess ash off the tip before returning the filter to his lips. “You really going to be okay if she decides to get picked up by another dude?”

Touya let out a frustrated sigh as he lit his third cigarette in a row; you’d be pissed if you found out but he was fortunate that you would be out for a few hours so he had time to clean away the evidence. “They’re gonna treat her like shit, I know the assholes out there would but if I take it back, she’s going to get pissed. She didn’t even fucking apologize for fucking someone else behind my back. I don’t want her to be used by someone else, she’s not a whore.”

“Correction, you mean she’s your whore.”

The only one who understood his way of thinking was Keigo.

There’s a night where you sleep in your own apartment while Touya and Keigo sit outside your complex, leaning against his car and just looking at the balcony that they know is attached to your place. A six pack of beer sits on the hood of the car, two slots empty as they each hold a bottle in their hand. Keigo quietly admits to him, “I think I might like (Name) Touya. Like I think I like her a lot, more than just wanting to fuck her and more than just as a friend.”

Touya quietly takes in Keigo’s confession and just nods his head, still looking up at your balcony and hoping that you’re sleeping well. He’s never been involved with anyone else the way he’s been with you, you’re all he thinks about and wants to have. It’s more than just liking you, this instinct to care for you, this obsession and desire he feels over you, he calls it love, it must be love. He hesitantly admits back, “… I think I love her.”

“Wow…”

“Yeah, wow…”

“You really think you love her?” Keigo asked after polishing off his first beer. “What about that whole arrangement thing? If you tell her you love her, she might question you since, you know, you’re still fucking other girls. If you love her then she’ll expect you to be monogamous with her.”

“If she still takes me up on that arrangement, I don’t think I can handle it. Only people who love her should be allowed to fuck her.” In other words, only he should be the only one to have you. No one else loves you like Touya does, he’ll fucking kill any asshole that thinks they can use you as their fucktoy. When Keigo asks again about the other girls, he growls at him and tosses his bottle onto the concrete. “I’m fucking working on that, alright. I just… don’t know how to fucking commit. It’s too fucking hard to do this by myself.”

Keigo just pops the cap off another bottle and hands it to Touya. “Would it help if I joined the relationship? I’m sure we can work something out with (Name), provided she’s willing.”

Touya would observe you and Keigo together, you oblivious to his friend’s flirtations at times and mistaking it as him just being very friendly. He could see golden eyes wandering down your body, already knowing what you looked like without any clothes and how pretty you look when you’re gagging on a dick because Touya’s shown him your nudes and recorded videos of you. Keigo can try to hide and put up a front that he’s just lusting over you but Touya can see that his friend has got that little lovestruck glint in his eyes when he looks at you; and honestly, he’s not even upset about it. The vision of you and Keigo together, it makes him comfortable rather than the anxiety he feels when he thinks about you with someone else. They obsess over you together, you blissfully unaware of how tortured Keigo was sometimes that he couldn’t plow his cock into you because you saw him as just a friend.

So he takes up Keigo's offer.

He was hoping that the transition to introduce Keigo into the relationship would go smoother, but it only comes up after a fight when he brings you with him to a house party for the first time.

God, Touya didn’t mean what he said to you that night when you and Keigo rolled together; he was just frustrated because he didn’t know what he could do to show you that you meant more to him than you knew. No matter how much he reassured you, you kept on letting your stupid insecurities get in the way!

“C’mon man, one minute you’re telling me you love her and now all of a sudden you’re breaking up with her?” Keigo scolds him, unaware that you leave the both of them behind and duck into the house.

“I’m not trying to break up with her! I’m just— fuck, she just doesn’t get that… fuck!”

He’s at a loss of words, he doesn’t want to be mad at you but you couldn’t get over your hangups over the side whores. They weren’t his other girlfriends, not his side bitches, or anything like that. Touya literally only sees them for probably twenty minutes max on the occasion they hit him up, nothing compared to all the time dedicated to you. They can claw at his dick however much they want, that’s all they want from him anyway aside from the pills and powders he sells to them. If it gets them to shut up then fine, but Touya will never spend a second longer with them when he’s finished using them. He doesn’t give a fuck if they whine about not cumming, he never promised them an orgasm when he gives the whores his cock.

He obsesses over you, not them; he cares for you, not them; he only wants you, not them.

Stop being jealous, it's just you!

Keigo finally talks him down but they realize that you’re not around.

Touya searches the outside perimeter of the house while Keigo searches inside. You’re rolling, barely able to take care of yourself and they have no idea where you are. All the worst case scenarios run through his head like you wandering into the night and getting kidnapped, hit by a car while walking down the road, he wonders if you’re still at the house and possibly getting raped because you can’t fight back if someone forces themselves on you. He drives himself crazy with his own imagination and you won’t answer your fucking phone!

To his relief Keigo informs him that he found you locked inside one of the bedrooms, having mixed cocaine, ecstasy, and alcohol because you were upset about what happened. He’s a veteran, Touya’s mixed plenty of times within his boundaries of tolerance but you’ve never done it before so he worries instantly for your wellbeing. The only thing that he can think of what to do to help you is to bring you a fresh bottle of water, you’re probably dehydrated as hell.

He feels awkward as hell when he arrives to the room, standing off to the side as Keigo fusses over you. He’s able to comfort you with the right words in your state of mind, adding in kisses and sweet caresses to your body to help calm you, something that Touya feels unable to do at the moment. But Keigo fixes you up and nods for him to approach you, a little hurt that you whine for Keigo to stay.

But he has to admit his mistake, that he should have been more attentive to you when he brought you with him, even if he trusted Keigo to look over you the entire time. You’re upset, of course you’re upset with him, and he doesn’t want you to be mad at him anymore. So he decides to give you a right he should have bestowed to you a long time ago, you’re not allowed to call him Dabi anymore. It’s the only way he knows to make it up to you and show you that you’re important to him.

Don’t be mad at me anymore babydoll, I’m yours.

You’re a stubborn little thing at first, still insisting on calling him Dabi but he made you come around. His name falling from your lips just sounds so perfect, it sounds right as you choke up on pleasure and come undone with a scream of his name.

Touya imagines that night you went behind his back because you were mad at him, freezing for just a quick moment that you would do the same thing the next time you became angry with him, except now he had given you full permission. You hadn’t taken advantage of the arrangement and didn’t seek anyone out so far, he’s thankful for that, but he has to lock down Keigo into the relationship so that he can secure you.

Touya literally walked out of the house earlier to find you and Keigo making out, surely you can’t believe you can do that on ecstasy and still believe that everything is platonic. He has to put the truth out there, you deserve to know it, no one else would treat you so good like they would.

“He thinks you’re adorable. I talk about your pussy all the time with him. How fucking cute it is, how tight it gets when you get choked, and when you cum all over yourself. He wants to fuck you open so bad.”

“Touya, don’t say that! He’s just a friend!”

“A friend who wants to fuck you.”

He probably could have been more eloquent with his words but he gets his point across to you regardless.

“I gave you permission to fuck who you want doll, Keigo is not the worst person you could choose. In fact, I’d like it if he were the one to keep you warm for me.”

And he can see how realization hits you, Keigo further supporting the claim by coming onto you as well. What you used to perceive his actions as friendly, you thought otherwise now. It’s a truth that you can’t unlearn now that he’s put it out there, but he hopes that you fucking take the bait. If you reject Keigo coming into the relationship, he truly won’t be able to handle the possibility of you seeking someone else out.

He’d fucking go crazy.

That is not an exaggeration.

Everything goes smoothly though, you returning hand in hand with Keigo with that cute, embarrassed look on your face when you asked where the ‘proper threesome’ should take place. He doesn’t know what Keigo said to you or what you said to him in order to reach the desired conclusion but he doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter because he got what he wanted.

You’re right where Touya wants you.

It feels good to know that when he’s out, Keigo is there to be with you in his place.

Everything feels perfect when he’s with you, he won’t lose you to anyone, you’re so fucking good for him, so fucking loyal to him and Keigo that even when you have your own doubts, you fall in line with what he wants anyway. He knows what’s best for you, what you need and what you don’t need. You don’t have to worry about anything because you’re watched over and cared for. He cares for you all the time like when you’re drunk, high, rolling, cross faded, sick, depressed, and everything in between.

But admittedly there are moments when his own anxiety gets the best of him, sometimes Touya looks at you and suddenly wants to run to the hills. He pops a few oxys to try to calm him down sometimes but they’re not always effective. When the pills don’t help, he hopes one of the whores hits him up to ask for a pill or a baggy and he can pretend that he’s living his old life before you came along because that’s what he’s most familiar with. He thinks you’re too good to be true at times and he follows the instinct to self sabotage by still returning to the whores. And every single time without fail when he returns to you, he feels his chest constrict as soon as you’re in his sights.

It’s no secret to you when he goes out to see them, he comes back smelling like artificial fruit or sweet candy, and he sees how you bristle when he tries to come near you. You’re angry at him but choose to remain silent because it’s an argument that’s long exhausted, he feels guilty that he still can’t commit himself to you fully but swears that one day it will happen. One day he’ll defeat that monster inside him that tempts him to ruin everything he’s built with you. But until then, Touya wants to make it up to you every single time. Food and drinks are an easy way to placate you but his favorite is when you agree to house roll with him because no matter what you end up gravitating to him during the roll and lean on him during your come down.

Sensual make outs while on ecstasy when you’ve reached the peak and then comfortable silence during the come down as you wallow together in a brief period of depression, it’s when he feels the closest to you.

And you don’t know this because he hasn’t been ready to say anything, but he’s already told you that he loves you.

The first time he says it, it’s past the six month mark of the relationship and just a little after Keigo is inducted into it as well. Nothing special in particular had happened to make him say it, you went to bed early because you stayed up way too late the night before and you just needed the extra hours of rest. He smoked a joint to relax, hopped in the shower to clean up, and he tip toed quietly in the room to make sure he didn’t disturb you. You barely flinched as he turned on the light in the room, unaware at how much Touya stared down at you as you slept. He took in your features and marvels at how peaceful you look when you’re asleep.

“I love you.” he says for the first time to you out loud.

You shift a little and emit a quiet, nondescript sound and he panics briefly that you might have heard him. Relief floods through him as you simply mumble and nuzzle the pillow, continuing to rest and none the wiser to the confession that Touya spoke into the air. But a weight is off his shoulders as he climbs into bed with you and is ready to sleep alongside you.

So he tells you he loves you when he knows you can’t hear him like when you’re deep in slumber, when you have your headphones on and just blast your music, or just right when you walk out the door after kissing him goodbye. He’s brave enough in those moments to say it but not brave enough to actually tell you just yet.

There’s one night where he thought you were going to say it first, and if that was the case then Touya would happily reciprocate it back.

You were hanging onto him for dear life as Touya rammed his cock into you, your hands clutching his shoulders and the back of your head digging into the mattress with your back arched off the bed. Touya had been mean to you all night by edging you, pulling out just as you’re about ready to burst and relishes in your desperate cries. You promise him you’ll do anything he wants but please please please, don’t just leave you like this. It’s only when you’re at your most desperate that Touya decided to give you the orgasm he’d been denying you.

“Such a desperate fucking whore. Were you thinking about my cock the entire day you were out?” Touya growled into your neck before nipping down on a sensitive spot as he jackhammers his dick into your pussy. “You were fucking drenched in your panties when you walked through that door. You love my dick so much that you think about it all the time huh?”

Your hands clutch onto his shoulders and Touya’s hips move to fuck you until you pass out from cumming so hard. You’ve been fucked stupid plenty of times and you just blearily look up at him as he utterly uses you to his satisfaction. There are plentiful memories of when you’ve told him you loved his dick in the frenzy of the moment, nothing but praises for his cock and how good he rams it in and out of you. It’s so fucking cute when you’re dick drunk and you slur out all your words. But Touya swears that you say it a little bit differently, straining his ears to make sure he heard you right. His hips don’t falter in their pace but he wants to know that he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

“I love… it…. cock… I love… yo…” shaky breaths leave your lips, shuddering gasps as your whole body trembles at what is sure to be an earth shattering orgasm. “S’fucking good… love ih… Love… yo— ahhh!”

Your whole body tenses and your back arches off the bed as high as your body allows, toes curling as you cum all over Touya’s cock and he cums alongside you. But even in the wreckage of your orgasm, you’re still choking out those breathless words that he was straining to comprehend just a few seconds ago. He wanted you to enunciate more, he should have slapped your cheek and made you speak clearly otherwise he would edge you again but the idea comes much too late now that you’re a boneless, brain fucked mess beneath him with his cum leaking out of you.

He fucked you too good, you’re asleep within seconds after Touya pulls out of your pussy and he’s a little disappointed that he couldn’t draw those words out of you.

Turquoise blue eyes look down at you, so vulnerable and pretty right before him. You look perfect and so comfortable in his bed that for a few seconds he’s inconceivably happy. You’re completely unaware of the power you have over him, how easily you could kill him without even trying. He’ll break if you leave him and he’ll break you if you try to leave him.

Don’t leave me.

You stay curled up in the bed and snuggled into his pillow even though you have your own on your side of the bed. A few minutes have passed and Touya thinks it’s safe to say it again, confess his heart into the silence of the room and while you’re unconscious to avoid being vulnerable; he’s just not ready yet. It would make his life so much easier if you said it first out loud but he also thinks that it would make you really happy if he were to say it first.

He knows you’ll be happy once the words are put out there, whether he says it first or you do.

Until then, he says it quietly and in the safety of his room while you rest peacefully.

“I love you.”

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi #bnha x reader #bnha #tw drugs #tw toxic relationship #us series

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

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COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: character death, gore, jazzercise, and small mentions of El having a panic attack [will include markers]

📝: the character death and gore is a flashback from last season cause apparently making us watch Bob die once wasn't enough 🥲 also sorry the code cracking scene was so bad, it was kinda hard to write

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

It hadn't taken long to get El ready for her next trip to the void. El found a spot on the ground, dry enough to sit, and began constructing a familiar device with goggles and duct tape they had miraculously found laying around. El had been kicking herself for leaving her headband at home, she should have known she'd need it. But this would do. And it reminded her of her conversation with Joyce that night; the first time someone had helped her through her fears of the void. Y/n and Max got to work behind her, turning on each of the showers to create the white noise El needed.

When they had finished, they took a seat on either side of their friend who now sat before the photo. Drawing in a deep breath, she placed the goggles over her face and began her search.

It was cold and lonely like it always was. Again, she tried to remind herself her friends were with her but it did little to lull the growing fears of what she might find next.

A mailbox was her only clue this time. It wasn't too far away, but the way it stood alone in the distance, waiting for her, unsettled her somehow. Maybe that was just the void, but that felt like a lie she kept trying to tell herself to get through it all.

It bore the numbers 1438, and it was sprinkled in rain. When she finally reached it, she carefully reached out her hand. She could almost feel the tin under her fingertips when suddenly a crimson smoke manifested out of thin air just feet away. It didn't take long for the smoke to build and the picture to form.

"What do you see?" Max asked, after some time.

"A door," El answered, her voice obstructed from the goggles over her nose. "A red door,"

It sat there, waiting for her to move. El knew she had to, and when she did that awful feeling in her gut grew stronger. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she reached for the handle, and it took all she had not to waver as it slowly swung open.

El's frown grew at the sight waiting for her on the other side. A ways away sat a bright white bathtub. She wasn't at all eager to find out what was inside, but when she did, she wished she could say she was surprised.

Ice. Just ice.

Just like with Billy, but the ice hadn't melted yet. The tub was almost overflowing with it and—

El jumped back when a girl shot up from within so suddenly. It was Heather. She was pink-faced and trembling, but something told El it wasn't from the cold. The droplets of water covering her face had easily disguised the tears slipping down her face, and the look in her glassy eyes was pleading up at her.

"Help me," she sobbed.

El didn't have time to react before Heather was pulled violently back under. El shrieked, immediately diving after her only to be met with the watery floor. She was panting for breath, trying so desperately to calm her racing heart but she realized she didn't have time to. Heather was still there, in need of her help and she was quickly disappearing under the water that separated them.

El cried out to her, desperate to reach her but something was stopping her. She could scream and claw at the surface of water separating them, but by the time she found a way to duck her head and arm in after her, it was too late. El watched helplessly in horror as Heather was pulled into the deep black abyss of her watery grave, crying out for help.

"NO!"

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

El threw the goggles off her head in an instant, her shoulders heaving as she gulped down breaths of air.

"What happened?" Max asks immediately, her hand flying to El's shoulder for comfort. "El!"

El didn't answer. With a haunted look in her eyes, she gaped between her friends. Worried, to say the least, Max and Y/n looked to one another afraid as she buries her head in her hands. El didn't say a word and instead collapsed into shaky sobs as she tried to come down.

Y/n recognized the panic attack, and in an instant she had thrown herself to the floor beside El, laying her hand on her back and began rubbing soothing circles.

"Hey, you're okay. You're okay. Take my hand," She whispers, carefully taking El's left hand in her own. She knew it was a good sign when El squeezed back, despite her heaving breaths. It was a sign she was responding. "We're here, it's okay. Just breath. Deep breaths, in and out,"

El's breathing barely slowed, but Y/n kept encouraging her. As they found themselves doing more and more, Max and Y/n lock eyes, their faces horror-stricken for their friend. El doesn't notice. She merely squeezed Y/n's hand tighter and allowed the sobs to come.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

HAWKINS NATIONAL LABORATORY

Once a place thriving with life and secret agency was now a desolate wasteland; a grave for rot and chaos that lay untouched for months.

The sign once erected on the outer gates now lay dented and scuffed among the mud and rain, forgotten like the rest of the laboratory.

RESTRICTED AREA

NO TRESPASSING

U.S. GOVERNMENT

PROPERTY

Hoppers truck comes to a screeching halt outside the lab's doors. Grabbing their bolt cutters and flashlights, Joyce and Hopper make their way to the abandoned laboratory that had caused them so much pain.

Joyce couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. She knew it was silly to be so worried about faulty magnets, but she didn't regret her actions. The last two times she had this unshakeable feeling in her core, she had been right to listen. The first being the moment she found Will's bed empty on the morning of November 7th, 1983. The second being Halloween night, the following year. And each time she felt it, untold horrors had followed.

And now? So far, those instincts hadn't failed her yet.

One visit to Scott Clarke about the town's sudden faulty magnets and her doubts were confirmed. And according to him, the only way an unstable electromagnetic field big enough to reach over all of Hawkins would have cost billions of dollars, and likely government-funded.

This had the lab written all over it. This had to do with the Upside Down and those monsters with it. It just had to. And she wasn't about to sit around and wait for it take her boy again. Or anybody else for that matter.

So here she was, nothing but a flashlight in hand and a fierce determination in her as she stormed the gates of Hawkins Lab, Hopper in toe.

The lab was just as they had left it that night. Glass was shattered among the floors from the busted windows, the chill seeping in from all sides; still as sharp as it was that night.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

The only answer the duo receives is the echo of Hopper's voice bouncing back to them as they step inside.

"We come in peace."

As she stood here now, Joyce realized everything was as she had last left it. That is... all but one thing.

One person.

Bob Newby. Superhero.

《•••》

He stood, the warmest of smiles gracing his face as he looked at the woman he loved. She was safe.

The next thing he felt was a harsh thud in his spine and skull as he was thrown to the floor.

All he knew was fear as he stared death in the face; its haunches in the air and its faceless head peeled away to reveal several rows of sharp thorny teeth as it pinned the man to the floors.

Joyce jumps back at the sight, her horrified screams blending with his own. The creature towers over Bob, and despite the man's best efforts he cannot quite match the beast's strength. It raises a single lean arm into the air, and in one swift motion its talons glide down to meet his left kidney. As its claws sink further into his sides, a cloud of deep crimson stains his scrubs, and a guttural cry of pain tears from deep within his chest.

"No!"

Joyce's cries of anguish alert the chief, who comes in all too late. He draws his rifle, now more in tune with the weapon without a still unconscious Will over his shoulder. But even then, it is far too late when the bullets hit the thing attacking Bob. Life has already begun to drain from the man, and in a matter of seconds, his chest had been torn to shreds.

"No!" She cries, fighting against Hopper's grip, unable to tear her teary eyes away from Bob.

"Go!"

As she is pulled around the corner, her one free arm stretches out after the man who had risked so much.

"Bob!"

The last thing she sees before the scene disappears from her view altogether is Bob's trembling and bloody hand reaching out for her in his remaining moments.

"No!"

《•••》

"Joyce,"

Her eyes are far away and haunted when she finally looks at Hopper. It looked to him as if she was pulling herself out of a memory, and he didn't have to wonder which. Hopper had a hunch this would happen, but he was in no place to blame her.

"You okay?" He asks.

But she was already burying it. Again, something he anticipated.

"I'm fine," she says quickly.

"You wanna wait in the car?"

Joyce all but scoffed and marched ahead.

"I said I'm fine."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hours. They had been at this. For hours. At least... Well, that's what it felt like to Steve and Dustin as they continued their search.

Really it had only been a little over one.

Spycraft could be pretty boring, they quickly realized.

Their mission was beginning to feel a bit silly as the longer time wore on. After all, what were the odds they'd find an actual evil Russian waltzing around in broad daylight?

"Target acquired," Dustin gasped.

Okay, so maybe the odds were pretty decent.

"Where?"

"Ten o'clock. Sam Goody's,"

"Give me that," Steve says, taking hold of the binoculars.

Sure enough, just as Dustin had said, a towering man in shades, long blonde hair, was carrying a duffle bag as he strode through the crowd.

"Shit. Duffle bag,"

Lowering the binoculars, the duo look to one another with grave faces as it dawns on them.

-"Evil Russian"

He wasn't at all hard to spot in their sudden chase. His all-black jumpsuit stood out among the sea of neon around him as he ascended the escalator.

Despite his casted looks at his surroundings, the man didn't seem to notice the two boys close on his tail.

"Slow down," Dustin warned, as they squeezed through a group of girls.

"We're losin' him,"

"You're getting too close,"

Steve's shoulder suddenly collided with a guy not much older than him, who turned to scowl at him.

"Watch it, dickwad!"

The target slowed, peering curiously over his shoulder. Steve and Dustin fall back against the wall; Steve behind a plant that didn't exactly hide him or his bright blue uniform and Dustin ran for the payphone. He picked it up, immediately speaking into it in a monotone voice he would cringe at later.

"Hello. Yes. I am fine. How are you?"

But he didn't seem to notice, the target had already moved on. He seemed to be in a hurry.

When they were certain he had no reason to spot them, they fell back into a scurry on his tail which carried them all the way to...

Jazzercise?

Peering around the corner, Steve and Dustin watched bewildered as the man hurried to the front of the class.

"All right, everyone, listen up!" He yells.

Their minds raced as he threw the duffle bag onto the counter with an impressive thud before pulling back the zipper.

"I just have one question for you."

What evil did this man have in mind for this poor, unsuspecting group of women?

"Who..."

He rips his glasses off, and reaches into the duffle bag-

"is ready to sweat?"

-and pulls out a boombox.

Simultaneously, their faces fall into small 'o's as they gape at the unexpected turn of events.

The ladies clad in neon tights and leg warmers bounce happily on their mats, and a chorus of agreements ring out throughout the class.

"That's right!" Cheers the non-Russian. With a blindingly white smile, he presses play on the boombox and Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go begins to burst from the speakers. Stepping onto a mat of his own, he unzips his black jumpsuit — which they now realized was a tracksuit — to reveal an equally neon, dangerously thin, muscle tee. "Okay! Let's start nice and easy now."

A grimace falls over Steve and Dustin as they watch the sight unfold.

"Let's move our thighs. Yeah!"

The women cheer as he begins to grind the air.

"Yeah, ladies, warm it up."

They begin to copy his motions.

"Bring it down to your hips. Start feeling that burn, everywhere, down in the loins, right?"

Steve just blinks.

"Slow now. Just isolate."

The man begins thrusting his hips, and Dustin watches horrified.

Okay, so maybe this mission wouldn't be so easy.

But if they were going to find anything, he was sure it would be easier to handle than this.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"The week is long," Robin mutters. "The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly."

She takes a thoughtful sip of her soda, eyes raking over her notepad with the now fully translated message. Turns out, translation went a lot faster without those idiots trying to help. But something was still nagging at her.

"Tread lightly," she mumbles, discarding her drink and beginning to thumb through the translation book.

Had she gotten it wrong? She didn't think she had, but why else would it be bothering her?

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sudden sound of knocking on the back door. In a haste, she unhooks the headphones from her neck and squeezes through the partition window before yanking open the back door.

"Delivery for you,"

"Thank you," she says, grabbing for the package.

It was heavy, but that was to be expected. It must be the new shipment in from Michigan, she thought. With a huff, she drops it onto the break table before turning back to the waiting delivery man.

She scratched her signature in before handing the pen and clipboard back, and that's when her eyes linger on his uniform.

LYNX TRANSPORTATION

That nagging feeling was back, but more than anything it felt like an itch had finally been scratched.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Have a nice day,"

"Yeah, you too," she mumbles.

She could hear the wheels of his hand truck carrying down the hall and that's when Robin peered out after him.

A hint of a smirk grew on her face when she laid eyes on the insignia painted over the back of his uniform.

"Silver cat." She gasps. "Silver. Cat."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Hey, Robin, you're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian," Steve grumbled as they strode back into Scoops Ahoy.

Dustin shoved his arm.

"You did too."

"No, I did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I did not."

But Robin wasn't listening. She had shoved herself right past them without so much as a glance in their direction.

Out of breath in exhilaration, Robin finds herself on the ledge of the topiary in the very heart of Starcourt. Her eyes scoured the shops and she can feel everything falling into place.

"A trip to China sounds nice," she mutters. "A trip to China... sounds... nice..."

If Lynx Transportation was the Silver Cat, something in this mall — a store in this mall — then that meant...

Imperial Panda.

Her grin returns.

"A trip to China sounds nice."

She checks her notes again.

'If you tread lightly'

It had to be something with shoes...

How about Kauffman shoes?

"If you tread lightly,"

Now blue and yellow... what could that be — where had she seen that?

"When blue meets yellow..."

Her eyes fly across the walls, and for a moment she wonders if it's somewhere deeper in the mall out of sight. But that didn't make sense. What did make sense were the two clock hands at the center of the mall she had glanced at almost every hour of every shift.

"in the west."

"Robin?"

Steve and Dustin reach her side, peering up at her with a questioning look.

"What are you doing?"

"I cracked it," is all she can say.

"Cracked what?"

No longer able to contain her excitement, she jumped down from the ledge and her lips split into a small, shaky smile.

"I cracked the code."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Stepping through the airlock doors that separated the world from the gate to the Upside Down was not as daunting as it once had been.

For one, the airlock obviously was no longer functioning, nor was anything else in the building and above all, it all felt... empty. It looked more like an abandoned hospital than a notoriously evil government lab dedicated to the study of alternate dimensions and psychic child weapons.

And what once had been a gaping hole that lowered into a stories-high rift to another dimension was now just a slab of fresh concrete. The gate, and any way of reaching it, had long since been sealed.

Hopper gives a definitive, hollow knock on the plaster when they reach the wall, and turns to Joyce, "Nobody's home," and paces away.

"All the cavities have been filled. I watched 'em do it, Joyce."

At the very least, it was hard to swallow. For so long the truth had always led back here. Everything led back here.

The mind flayer, the demodogs. Will himself.

How could this not be the lab? Or at the very least, the Upside Down?

"It's over," Hopper concludes, seemingly reading her thoughts. Sharing a collective sigh with Joyce, Hopper looks around at the remains as she takes a seat on a nearby lift. "It's over,"

"I feel like I'm looking my mind," she says.

"You're not losing your mind," Hopper assures, nervously beginning to pace. "Not any more than I am."

He nibbles on the inside of his cheek as he nervously kicks a loose piece of rubble.

"You know, the other day, I almost shot Betsy Payne's dog because it came rushing at me from behind this fence, and I... I swear to God I thought it was one of those things."

The look in Joyce's eyes was all too familiar. It was a look he knew he had been wearing as long as she had

"You know that I'm keeping a close eye on things, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Because it is important to me." Hopper all but chokes. "It is important to me that you feel safe. That you and your family feel safe. I want you to feel like this can still be your home."

Joyce winces.

"What?" He asks somberly, already knowing the answer. "You didn't think I'd find out about that? Gary called me. He's said he's fixing up your house to put on the market."

Joyce makes no effort to deny his claims and Hopper realizes he never really expected her to. He didn't know what he was expecting. But the Byers leaving Hawkins was something he considered unthinkable.

And knowing that family, he wasn't the only one who'd miss them.

"The kids know yet?"

Joyce doesn't say a word, but it's all the answer he needed. The look on her face says it all; she didn't want to. She was afraid to. But she was also afraid to be in Hawkins. Afraid for her boys being in Hawkins.

And Hopper knew that feeling all too well.

"After Sarah..." he sighs, taking a seat on the ground beside her. "I had to get away... I had to get the hell out of that place, you know? Outrun those, uh... those memories, I guess."

Hopper tries to summon the words but they were having a hard time through the lump in his throat. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't think about his little girl. About what life would have been like had she still been around, how she and El would get along... All of it. But that wasn't the truth, and he knew it.

"I mean, why do you think I ended up back in this shithole?"

Eyes brimming with tears, Hopper peers up at the woman who had wormed her way into his heart all those years ago. She let out a pathetic chuckle, as he did and all he can do is smile weakly up at her.

"But you have something that I never had. You have people that know what you've been through. You have people that care about you. Right here. In Hawkins."

"You mean," she begins, her voice soft and cracked. "You mean, people like Scott Clarke?"

There's a painful silence that Joyce finally puts out of its misery.

"That was a joke," she smiled.

Hopper releases a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed in relief and her smile widens just a little further.

"Mm," he groans softly, giving a small laugh.

Lost in the moment and each other's company, they had nearly forgotten where they were had it not been for the sudden clang echoing down the nearby halls.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Okra Project:

AAIP Mental Health Association

Black Trans Lives Matter Carrd

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"The Okra Project is a collective that seeks to address the global crisis faced by Black Trans people by bringing home cooked, healthy, and culturally specific meals and resources to Black Trans People wherever we can reach them."

Taglist:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @peeperparkour @ba-responds @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @gizmofishersupremacy @spiderbitch69420

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

#cosmic #cosmic 3 #will byers x fem!reader #will byers x reader #stranger things #stranger things 3 #the case of the missing lifeguard #3x03 #st 3x03

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

Gala | R.D

WARNINGS // 2k // SMUT 18+, Unprotected sex, Public (??) sex, Exhibitionism (??), daddy kink, breeding if you squint, jealousy.

A/N // Hi I am kinda coming back from writing because I literally don’t know where this inspiration to suddenly write came from and I’ve never written for our bb Rog before so this is a whole experience for me, I hope you enjoy <33 this one goes out to my Roger whores @darthwheezely and @amxrtentias xoxo

There was no denying that Roger was able to light up the room with his smile, he still held all the charm and confidence that being a quidditch captain gave him. Thankfully for you, he also had enough personality to hold a conversation with anyone he had the pleasure of greeting or introducing himself to, meaning that you could lazily drape off his arm while sneaking glances at the way he had pulled himself together for the event.

The days you saw your boyfriend in a suit always seemed to end in a mess of kisses and half-removed fabric as you desperately tried to grasp as much of each other’s skin as humanly possible. His hair was swooped almost too perfectly from the messy ruffle that he would usually wear. The shirt he wore was buttoned up to the collar, accentuating his sharp jawline and striking smile, at his neck sat a tie, grateful that by the least you were able to convince him to not wear a bow tie, at least not to an event like this.

Fred and George would usually hold an annual gala in celebration of the anniversary of Weasley Wizard Wheezes opening and every year both you and Roger would be sure to get the invite. This year was no exception, you were dressed up in a simple but elegant satin gown, hair pushed out of your face and makeup perfectly done, not only making you look like a billion galleons but also feel it.

Being close with the Weasleys meant that you were sat right up at the head table with the two owners of the shop. You would often lend a hand whenever they needed a spare pair of hands or someone to bounce ideas off of, to the twins you were just part of the family, the same way any of their siblings were.

You were sat next to Roger, his hand resting protectively on your upper thigh while your arm had looped through his, temple resting on his shoulder as you waited patiently for the first course to arrive. You were always pleasantly surprised just how many tables the Twins were able to fit inside the shop when all of the displays were packed away and the space was cleared away.

“You seem distracted,” Roger spoke quietly, a small smile on his lips as you looked up at him, you laughed a little, pressing a kiss to his cheek before going back to the comfortable position you were once in.

“Just hungry, love.” You hummed, I’m truth you were distracted, very much because throughout the course of the evening, he had ran his hands through his hair so much that little pieces had started to fall into his eyes much like they usually did and you couldn’t help but marvel at just how breathtaking he was.

“When aren’t you?” He joked, giving your leg a playful squeeze before you return with a laugh and a weak elbow to his side, watching as he broke out with a laugh, making you even more distracted by him.

“I should be offended, Davies.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t always hungry then?”

“That’s beside the point, Rog-”

Midway through the second course Fred leans over, whispering about how a girl from another table was throwing daggers your way, making a joke that he could give her something to look at, the thought in your head causing a laugh to fall from your lips as you dabbed the edge of your napkin against your lips.

Your boyfriend had observed the interaction, the grip on his cutlery tightening slightly at the way you reacted to Fred, a bubble of jealousy growing at how your friend had dared get so close to your neck, a place where he was already planning to paint with his tongue, leaving deep red hickeys in its place.

He accidentally dropped the knife against the plate, grumbling at the clattering sound as he picked it up again. You turned your head towards the noise, noticing the tensed jaw and disgruntled look that flushed upon his face. Roger was always easily jealous, not that he didn’t trust you but the thought of other people gawking at what was his gave him that edge.

“Rog, baby, what’s wrong?” You asked softly, hand placed gently on his bicep as you turned your full attention to him.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” He smiled, nose scrunching up sweetly as he licked his lips, head ducking down to bite the food from his fork before smiling again at you with his cheeks full of food.

It wasn’t until after desert had settled that you were being pulled away from the chatter and laughter up the stairs, being met with Roger’s bruising kiss as soon as you were out of sight from the rest of the guests. It was at this point that you realised when he said there was nothing wrong, he was most definitely lying.

His hands were practically tugging the satin away from your body as you melted into his touch, arms snaking around his neck, lips pressed together messily as he took charge of the situation, not realising that he was walking you backwards until your back was flush against a solid surface.

In the mess of kisses and the way you were practically putty in his hands at his very touch, you had hardly realised your surroundings until you broke away for air. His lips continued to pepper kisses over your neck while his hand pressed into the small of your bare back ever so slightly, arching your back for him at the feel of his electric touch.

“Baby, we can’t do this here, It’s Fred’s off–” You stuttered out through faint moans.

“Hmm... I don’t care, love.” He chuckled, nipping a kiss at your jawline, trailing kisses along until he pressed a kiss to your chin, each corner of your mouth then finally your lips.

“Now am I going to have to teach you how to follow rules again or can my good girl remember?” He hummed, deep voice rumbling into your chest, a faint whimper falling from your lips at the feeling.

“I’ll be good, daddy, I promise I’ll be so good for you.” You mewled, taking a quick and sharp breath in as he pulled you into his chest effortlessly with the hand pressed to your back, using his free hand to teasingly guide the zip of the dress down and over the curve of your ass, noting quickly the lack of underwear covering you.

“Yeah? Were you being good when you let Fred get all close? practically bearing your pretty little neck to let him mark… was that being good?” His hand slipped under the loosened material of the dress, his large hand squeezing at your bum as he chuckled, answering his own question. “I don’t think it was.”

“Roger, I–”

He cut you off, spinning you around quickly with his hand wrapped around your throat, back pressed to his chest as you whined against his firm grip.

“Breaking rules already are we, little one?”

You quickly shake your head, letting out a deep breath as he released his grip on your neck, hands working quickly to push the straps of the dress off your shoulders before taking your exposed breasts in the palm of his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to your earlobe before nibbling at the soft skin.

“Words, princess.” He hummed, thumbs teasingly running over your hardening nipples as your breathing grew staggered. Your boyfriend knew just how sensitive they were to touch, using that sweet spot against you as he teased you into speechlessness.

“Daddy, I–”

“What’s wrong, baby?” He teased, smirking as he used the same tone you had used with him earlier.

“I need…” you trailed off, his lips peppering kisses along your shoulder.

“You need what? C’mon, princess, you can tell me.”

“I need you.”

“Me? Hm, you’ve got me already haven’t you now, dumb baby? What do you need me for?” He chuckled, one of his hands hitching your thigh up while the other threw the spilt of the dress open, his fingertips finding your clit with ease.

“That what you needed? To be touched?” He began slowly circling at the bundle of nerves between your thighs, feeling the way he had already gotten you soaking wet, having hardly touched you.

“Yes, Daddy, I like it when you touch me like that.” The words could hardly come out as the grip on your thigh became tighter, making sure to keep your legs open for him.

“There you are, using your words like a big girl.” He praised, proudly drawing noisy moans from you, no longer caring if anyone could hear you at all, in fact he would rather everyone heard how you whored yourself out for him, drove him crazy in fact.

Spinning you around, you quickly found yourself with your backside pressed against the cold wood of Fred’s desk. Roger’s hands worked seamlessly on unbuckling his belt, pulling himself free before your hands quickly found his length, stroking him ever so slightly as he grew harder at your touch.

“Do you know how hard it is to stop myself from splitting you in two, princess? From filling my precious girl’s cunt up and leaving her ruined.” He mused, hand reaching up to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then don’t, daddy.” You whispered, hand tangling into the hair at the back of his head to pull him into your lips, kissing him roughly as you felt him groan against your lips.

His cockhead teased at your slick entrance for a moment before he began to push himself inside of you, forcing your legs to wrap around his hips as he leant forwards to make sure he was getting the best angle.

With every thrust, the handles of the drawers rattled and the wood creaked, Fred’s office becoming filled with breathy moans and the sounds of slapping skin. He wasn’t being particularly rough for the moment but the angle he hit was enough to send you to heaven, every time you thought he had bottomed out, he found another way to push deeper, filling you completely.

“Feels so good, daddy, please.”

“Tight little thing you are, feel so nice around me, my good girl.”

He began to pick up the pace, fucking into you at much faster speed than you were expecting, moaning out loud enough for anyone to hear, one hand pulling your hip so that you met every thrust while the other toyed with your clit, helping bring you to release.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? you’ve been so good.”

“Cum with me, daddy, please.” You begged, his forehead pressed against yours as he swallowed you moans with a kiss for a moment.

“Yeah? You want that, do you?”

“Please.” You whispered, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach as he continued to hit your favourite spot with his slightly slower but still deep thrusts. Releasing over his cock as you felt him painting your walls with his own release.

“Well done, baby, looking so beautiful.” He lovingly ran his hand over your hair, smoothing it out.

“Hope you’re ready for when we get home, I’m not quite done with you or your perfect cunt yet, princess.”

He took your hands in his, holding them both above your head before switching to hold both wrists in one hand while the other ghosted down your half-naked side.

“Get used to this, love, I’m gonna tie these wrists to the bed and absolutely ruin you.”

You leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, smiling at him bashfully. “Thank you, daddy.”

“You’re most welcome, sweetheart, now let’s get you home shall we?”

You nodded quickly, letting him pull your dress into place before leading you quickly out of the shop, leaving Fred’s office in a state. You both were avoiding the gaze of others as you ducked away from the function, eager to be at home with only each other’s presence.

It was surely going to be an eventful night.

taglist // @pansydaisy @feetoffthetablee @darthwheezely @http-caitwo @omghufflepuff @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @loony-loopy-lupinn @Sky-ran-away @theweasleytwinsgirl @pandaxnienke @turtletaylor98 @whizboyhalo @georgeweasleysbabe @lilypad-55449 @gaycatlord-stuff @garyluly @asthmax @planetasteri-blog @the-unmanaged-mischief @hufflepuffalice @weasleysprofessionalhoe @jorduhnn @the-clearest @freds-slut

((to my taglist - sorry if this is something that isn’t for you but I really do hope you enjoy <3))

#roger davies x reader #roger davies #smut #harry potter fic #harry potter writing #harry potter smut #fred and george #roger davies smut

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tmngoose · 3 years

Text

Cause for Concern: an OC one-shot

Alternate Title: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Rikki, Red Fox, Jupiter Jim, Clem, Rikki's mom (mentioned) Tags: ANGST, Anxiety, Distress, Poor familial relationships, Abuse, Minor Injuries/bruising/scabs, Hurt/Comfort, Blanket forts, Lots of comforting, Additional Tags to be added... Summary: Rikki gets a letter in the mail and Red has a right to worry. Word Count: ~1,799 -x- A/N: I know what you're thinking. "Goosey! This isn't any of the updates you promised us >:C what's up with this OC baloney?" -- Ok, yes, but listen; I wrote this mainly to practice writing Red Fox and Jupiter Jim since I'll be (ahem) writing them very soon for a certain somethin'-somethin' (Also? I need to update Let's Make a Deal and this was good practice to get back into writing for Rikki). I won't be uploading this to my Ao3. Read Cause for Concern under the read more:

It started with a letter—a small black envelope that came in with the rest of the mail: the bills, the take-out menus, and the weekly Stock and Shop circulars.

It was addressed to Rikki, which was odd to Red since Rikki never received mail; at least nothing intimate.

"Hey, Rikki! You got mail today!" Red said as soon as the mongoose returned from her shift at Clem's. She presented Rikki with the black envelope, her tail swishing excitedly.

"That's for me?" Rikki raised a brow.

They settled down at the kitchen table. Red sat across from Rikki, who examined the mysterious piece of mail. There was no return address, and the envelope was perfumed with something that made Rikki's nose wrinkle. She turned the envelope over, and that was when she saw it; the ivory wax seal depicting the image of fang—her family's crest.

Red's grin shrank as Rikki tensed, the color draining from her face, "Well? Who's it from, Rik?"

"It's… ah…," Rather than answering Red, Rikki reached for their salt shaker and unscrewed the metal cap. She poured a perfect circle onto the wooden surface, then dropped the envelope into its center.

Suddenly, it burst into a column of purple flames.

"Oh, my stars!" Red gasped. Her red banded-tail morphed into a giant hand and reached into the cabinet under the sink for the fire extinguisher.

"Don't worry, it'll put itself out," stated Rikki, unbothered by the phenomena. "It's a hex message."

"A 'hex message?'" Red furrowed her brow as the flames flickered before them, contained within the circle of salt. "I've heard of chain letters cursing folks, but this is just plain rude! Who would do such a thing?!"

"My mom."

"Oh," Red's tail twitched. It was a touchy subject they never discussed, mainly because Rikki avoided any conversation regarding family relations—especially if they were about her mother.

When the purple flames disappeared—embers and all—a scorch mark was left behind; Rikki buffed it out with the sleeve of her hoodie. Now that the letter was 'cleansed,' she sliced open the side of the envelope with her claw and emptied a folded piece of parchment into her hand.

The apartment fell silent as Rikki read the letter. Red knew better than to pry, even if the suspense kept her at the edge of her seat.

"Mom wants me to come home—for a visit, not to stay," Rikki grimaced, "She wants to 'talk.'"

"When?" Red asked while Rikki calmly tore the letter into tiny squares.

"A-sap," Rikki brushed the bits of paper into her palm and stuffed them inside the pouch on her hoodie. She went over to the tiny coat closet by the front door and retrieved an old backpack that would suffice as an overnight bag.

"W-wait, you're leaving now?" Red pushed back her chair. Her stomach twisted, and a feeling of dread penetrated her bones. She had no idea where the influx of anxiety came from, but it was enough to get her fur to stand on end.

Rikki shrugged, "I can't keep the lady waiting."

"What about work?"

"I'll tell Clem somethin' came up. Besides, that's what PTOs are for..."

"Is everything alright?" Red's ears flattened, perturbed. "You're not in trouble, are you?" Why would she think Rikki was in trouble? Maybe Rikki's mother always communicated via hex messages. Perhaps that was just how yūrei's spoke to one another; a cultural thing.

Rikki didn't answer. She quietly stuffed her toiletries into a plastic baggie, then went into her bedroom to gather a change of clothes. The silence between them only told Red that she was right to fret about her roomie's well-being.

"… It's nothing, Red," Rikki answered, slipping her headphones around the back of her neck. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

Red's unconvinced by the string of reassurance; they sound a lot like empty promises, "Rikki…."

"Red, I'll be fine," Rikki crammed her chargers and electronics into the small pocket of her backpack. "I should be back sometime soon-ish. We'll order sushi and throw ourselves a little party, ok?"

"… okay," Red stepped out of Rikki's way, reluctantly letting the mongoose pass by. She escorted Rikki to the elevator down the hall and playfully elbowed her in the arm, "Call me if you need back-up, yeah?"

"Whatever floats your goat, space ace," Rikki snorted as she waited for the elevator's arrival. She slung her bulky backpack over her shoulder, "And speaking of goats, I better call Clem…."

Rikki forced a smile as the elevator doors slowly closed. Red saw past the mongoose's attempt at feigning confidence; the distant, fearful look in her eyes gave her away. Red suppressed the urge to summon the elevator and prevent Rikki from leaving.

Red told herself that it was all in her head, the idea that nothing good would come from Rikki's trip to her mother's. She knew Rikki could take care of herself.

Rikki will be back before you know it, Red thought to herself. It'll be alright. I'm sure her mother's a lovely person...

__________

Rikki didn't come home the next day. Or the following day. Or the day after that. When Red tried reaching Rikki on her cell phone, her attempts led her directly to the mongoose's inbox.

Not even Clem heard from Rikki, although he was instructed to 'use her sick days if she ran out of PTO.'

Red kept herself busy with menial chores to steel her nerves and stop her imagination from crafting worst-case scenarios. When she wasn't cleaning the apartment, the yōkai volunteered at the community theater, ran errands, and hunted for Scor-Pion with Jupiter Jim.

"Why so blue, Red?" Jupiter Jim asked during one of their stakeouts atop the eccentric actor's apartment building. "You mustn't let Scor-Pion get you down. The elusive fiend will show himself soon enough!"

"It's not that," Red sighed. "It's my roomie/friend! She's been gone for almost a week, and I've lost all forms of direct communication with her! And even if I wanted to go searching for her, I have no idea where she could be!"

"Hm, that is quite the predicament. I wouldn't be surprised if Scor-Pion is behind your friend's mysterious disappearance!"

"I doubt it…," Red peered through her binoculars and scanned the city's skyline, hoping to spy Rikki. She perked up when she felt Jupiter Jim's hand clasp onto her shoulder, "Sir?"

"Have faith in your friend," Jupiter Jim consoled. "The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later. We must welcome the weary when they return, but to do so, it's crucial to keep our spirits high."

Red smiled weakly at the profound piece of wisdom, "Thank you, Sir."

The mood was ruined when Jupiter Jim mistook an old lady with a green skin complexion as Scor-Pion. Fortunately, Red's prehensile tail was strong enough to hold the space adventure back from ambushing the strange senior citizen.

If only Red used her tail to keep Rikki from leaving...

_____________

It was Wednesday night. Red had finished washing the dishes and was now standing at the kitchen counter, prepping vegetables for dinner. She was so preoccupied with peeling potatoes that she failed to notice someone unlocking the front door.

And that someone was Rikki.

"Hey, I'm back," Rikki announced as she closed the door behind her.

"Rikki!" Red exclaimed, dropping the potato peeler and spud into the sink. She ran over to Rikki and hugged her tightly, "Leaping light-years, you have no idea how worried I was! You didn't call or text, and Clem said—"

Red froze. Her eyes darted from Rikki's black eye to the bruise on her cheek. Several small knicks speckled the side of her brow. They were scabs now, but the implication that Rikki had bled was still there.

So this was the kind of relationship Rikki had with her mother: a bad one.

Rikki isn't put off by the horrified look on Red's face, "Honestly? It's not as bad as it looks. In fact, I think things went better than I expected." She tried maintaining a modest tone, but it faltered.

I knew I shouldn't have let you go, Red frowned. Hesitantly, she tried reaching up to touch the bruise on Rikki's cheek.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Rikki said as she casually ducked away from Red's hand. "I had to take the long way back, and I'm kinda gross. Do you need the bathroom?"

"N-No, you go ahead. I'm making stew for dinner. Would you like some?"

"Naaah. I'm not that hungry…."

Red nodded, "Copy that." She watched Rikki's bushy tail drag across the floorboards on her way towards the bathroom.

The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later…

"Hey, Rikki?"

"Hmm?"

"Welcome home…"

It's such a warm, simple greeting, yet it meant so much to Rikki. She got as far as the hallway before she grabbed onto the wall for support. She sank to the floor and curled in on herself, trembling.

In a split-second, Red's beside her. She held Rikki close, protecting her by wrapping her striped tail around her body. She never heard Rikki cry before; the mongoose is quiet with the occasional whimper that breaks Red's heart.

Red held her tighter, "… We can still order sushi if you want…."

Rikki sniffled, "Yeah, I-I'd like that."

"Heh heh, good! Honestly, I was getting tired of peeling all those potatoes!"

_____________________

Stacks of aluminum take-out containers are left on the kitchen table with empty plastic cups of soy sauce. They make good on their promise to throw themselves a party. So Red and Rikki dragged their mattresses out from their bedrooms and constructed a blanket fort around them.

Once their nightly bathroom rituals are completed, they pile into their fort. Red noticed a few more bruises on Rikki's forearms that were previously hidden by the mongoose's hoodie.

"Clem said he'd give me the day off tomorrow," Rikki said as she slid her phone underneath her pillow. "I told him I had a rough trip. He understands."

"Aw, that's nice of him," Red yawned as she rolled onto her side, facing Rikki. Goodness gracious, who would've thought all this worrying could be so exhausting...

"Hey, Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," apologized Rikki, her voice hoarse. She stared up at the canopy of mismatched blankets and bedsheets, "I'm sorry I didn't keep you in the loop..."

"Don't worry about it, Rik," Red scooched over towards Rikki, "I understand."

They nestled against each other, their tails entwined--another layer of comfort. Red felt obligated to ensure Rikki fell asleep and didn't stay awake to think about whatever cruelties she endured at her mother's. Only when Red was sure Rikki was fast asleep did she finally allow her eyelids to shutter.

#rottmnt oc #Rikki #rottmnt Red Fox #Jupiter Jim #rottmnt Clem #(not a shipping fic! they are just roomies who care about each other I swear to pizza supreme in the sky)#tmngoosepost #tmngoosefic

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

Text

Death Rings Twice || Morgan and Eilidh

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @braindeacl @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: While searching for answers, Morgan and Eilidh realize the situation is worse than they realized.

CONTAINS: conversations with dead people

They came and went in waves. The first time, only the first time, Eilidh believed them to be just a part of being a ghost. James had done so many times—go in and out of view like the watts on a bulb. But those changes had been consensual, come upon by his own will, and he never truly left. Not like she had, and did, and still do. Moments of nothingness. Blink and she was gone, truly and ultimately gone. Blink and she was back, not even left with a memory. Just a faint recollection, a faint feeling of a blank. Like trying to recall a blackout. You knew it was there, you felt it too—pages torn from a book. But you also didn’t, couldn’t, for nothingness was all that remained. Nothingness that seemed to be her destination. Those blinks got longer, longer, longer. With no sign of slowing.

Eilidh knew Morgan was facing her own bouts of strangeness. Maybe they were connected. Morgan believed them to be—magic set loose like a wildfire, with them in its path. Consumed in its flames, would it burn them all the way to the ground? Or would they come out the other side, for the better? This curiosity, and a gnawing worry, compelled her forward, right into Morgan’s residence. She ventured through those great and winding halls, as if she already haunted the place. She ought to haunt at least one. Before it became too late. Passing by an open door, that familiar face was finally seen. Eilidh stopped, stared. Felt that nothingness threatening to claim her again. Visage flickered—like a light on its dying breath. But the feeling passed, leaving her there, shining on. The motion, or her very presence, must’ve caused a stir. The two women met each other’s eyes.

“Boo.”

Morgan just needed to find the right book. Zombies had been around for ages and so even if whatever was happening to her was obviously very rare, it must have happened to someone else before. And that someone must have wanted to write it down. Because magic directly affecting a zombie body at all was worth writing about; doing so in this cruel, backwards way defied everything she understood about magic and living matter. So, Morgan sat on the floor in the library, swimming through a large haul from the scriberary, searching. When Macleod appeared behind the volume she was holding, calling boo, Morgan yelped with surprise.

“Oh! Stars! That was--” she laughed uneasily. “That was something alright.” She sat back and looked at the other woman. She had believed everything Macleod had told her but seeing her friend, so wild and earthbound, so connected to her flesh, floating and transparent was uncanny in a way her mind struggled to process. “I wish I had good news on the funky magic boogaloo front, but there’s just lots of dead ends so far. But that can wait. Are you...okay? At least, relative to our situation?

Good-hearted chuckle lept out of Eilidh—breaking the illusion of the spooky ghost in the corner. She closed the distance between the two, eyes curiously scanning the cover and pages of the book nestled in Morgan’s lap. More were strewn across the room, circling Morgan in a protective barrier, or perhaps a tomb—either for future study or determined unsuited. Where one group ended and the other began, she wasn’t sure. Mouth parted to offer assistance, her hands and mind well-versed to such a skill, but the words quickly died just as her flesh had. Wouldn’t be much use when turning a page was a difficult endeavor. She had learned that fact rather quickly.

When attentions were placed on her, Eilidh perked. “Aye. Convinced this guy his cereal was sentient. And some lady she could control plants.” Snort of delight shot out her nose as their faces returned to memory. But as the chuckles faded, so too did this delight. That lingering worry remained. A hand brushed her lips, seemingly in thought. “Also…” In absence of external stimuli, she bit on a knuckle. But where a prick of sensation, a prick of life, would usually awaken her hand, only a mere acknowledgement greeted her. Fucking hell, how has James not gone mad by now? A low growl rumbled, and at least it felt nice in her chest. Familiar. “Been going in and out. Kinda like blinking. If you did that with a soul. James says it isn’t normal. And they’re getting longer.” Another knuckle met her teeth; that same hollow impact replayed. “Guess it’s soon time.” Her eyes scanned Morgan, transferring the focus back to the other woman. Wandering gaze found the darkness under her friend’s eyes. “What ‘bout you?”

For what seemed like a long time, Morgan could only stare at her friend. Or rather, through her friend. She could see every title on the shelf behind her if she concentrated enough, because Macleod, despite speaking and smiling and grinning and mischief-ing as much as she had ever done, was incorporeal and transparent. Like a ghost. A baby undead ghost. Which wasn’t supposed to exist. “..Blinking? What? Uh, that sounds bad. And weird. I’ve never heard of ghosts doing that before. They cross over, and they have some kind of teleportation thing, but they don’t play peek-a-boo with a whole plane of existence. That’s…” Another very strange, logic defying twist of magic.

Morgan cleared her head and tried to answer Macleod’s questions. “I woke up at the beginning of the week able to feel again. All my physical senses that went dull were back. It took some adjusting, but I think it was more or less how they were when I was alive. But then my body started decaying even when I was full, or more than full, and healing was fading and now it’s basically gone! So I’m basically rotting away for no discernable reason, and I get to be super physically aware of all of it. Also, I smell, so maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have any senses right now. When did your stuff start? I mean, none of this should be happening at all, because the undead are immune to spellcasting magic that engages with our body’s energy, as far as I can tell, and we’re immune to most drugs and toxins, and I haven’t found anyone else in town being effected like this, so it’s not the big cosmic town bullshit--but if we can get a timeline, maybe that will tell us...something.” She sighed and closed the book in her lap, staring off into anywhere but Macleod’s face. The whole world was slipping through their fingers, just when she’d thought it really did want them after all.

Curt laugh escaped Eilidh. “Yeah. You’re telling me.” Just her luck to be subjected to the worst game of peek-a-boo in existence. Maybe her soul truly did want to pass over, but this supposed magic was keeping her here? Maybe the universe was trying to remedy the fact she shouldn’t have remained—at least not in this form—but the magic tried to go against the very will of the cosmos? Thoughts followed that tangent until it caused a dizziness. Bah, there’s too many maybes and what-ifs. She snapped a finger, sharp noise bringing her back to the present. Mind focused on Morgan’s words, her own story. As such a tale unfolded, her face fell, allowing that worry bubbling inside to find itself in her eyes, her parted mouth. Just as quickly, her eyes tightened, mouth closed, jaws tightened. Resolve overcame the worry, gave her goal new fire. “Aye. That is real bad.” Especially when it started so promising—the worst kind. “Best we hop to it prompto, then. Know anything I can look over? Double-check? Triple-check?” The ways of magic, the ways others shifted the energies of the world to their will, was not a strong subject of hers. But perhaps there were other pieces of the puzzle her ever inquisitive eyes could find. She needed that hunt, after all. Needed something to do—when all things physical brought boredom at best, her mind frequently rushed into restlessness.

Eilidh recalled the start of this plight. “I died beginning of this week.” The same as Morgan’s own unfortunes; a fact that did not escape her. “Or alchemied this way. Or some other magic.” At this point, she wasn’t sure which was true. Death was more reasonable to her. Familiarity always felt more reasonable, and she was very familiar with death. But Morgan seemed convinced its cause was magically induced and, well, she was the expert in that regard. Not Eilidh. “Blinked out the first time a few days later. Didn’t think too much of it. ‘Til a few more days later when it kept happening.” How much longer would this affliction let her speak with Morgan? Would it rip her away mid-sentence, as it had with Milo? Sharp snap of fingers returned. Temptation to bite the nagging thoughts away surfaced—to subject another knuckle to her teeth. But the snap sufficed. For now.

Morgan sat back, thinking. The town had already been shifted in the cosmos by the time she and Macleod were affected. And no one else she spoke to, dead or undead, was feeling anything strange in their body. So why them? And how? It didn’t seem right that the universe should literally change its rules just to be cruel to them. And if an alchemy break-through was responsible for Macleod, it didn’t explain her progressive deterioration. She would have to be confined to a circle in order for that to be the case, and the energy required to continually re-write her body would be outrageous.

She looked over at Macleod, aching to give her an answer. “I only have a few general compendiums on the stuff, but maybe there’s some kind of sickness, or some kind of critter that can affect people like us. Like, bookwyrms and brain biters mess with people’s brains, and there’s plenty of necrophages out there maybe…” Some magic, universe defying critter happened to chomp on both of them without their noticing on the exact same night? Morgan could hardly stand to hope for the idea, it sounded ridiculous enough in her head. But she had to try. If she stopped trying, this thing would take her. “Maybe there’s one that can explain this. Weird abilities that make people incorporeal or mess with their magic composition. Um, it’s those thick ones back there--” She pointed. “Or you could check out the area, see if anything unusual is sniffing around. Every critter’s gotta eat and sleep somewhere.” She smiled feebly. “We’ll figure this out before it’s too late. We’ve got too much to live for, right?”

“Critters!” The word shot out like a bullet. That was more Eilidh’s forte. A hand returned thoughtfully to her lips, though a bite did not come. Her mind was moving far too fast to focus on anything physical. Feet began to pace without her knowledge, beating against the air as if they contributed to her movements anymore. “Those bees cause hallucinations…” What were they called again? Those dick-hive bees. She had still yet to encounter them personally—such a treat will have to wait when she finally visits… that woman. Knowledge was acquired specifically for said venture, so she really should remember… “Eintykara.” But as research came tumbling back into her mind, so did an issue. “No. Cold.” Such weathers would cause them to grow sluggish—springing into action now would make no sense. “Hm. Caballi?” Her encounter with one had been very brief, but James’ was much more intimate. And she had certainly heard stories that mimicked their own. Of ghosts being attacked by them. Or more accurately, being fed upon by them. Could be the cause of their deterioration, those astral feedings. Perhaps they can affect zombies too? “But never saw…” They weren’t exactly invisible, to people like them. But much of them was left unknown, on this world at least. Could be a special sort?

More ideas flowed into Eilidh’s mind. And just easily flowed back out—conflictions and contradictions found in every sort. Though the universe was vast and wide and full of exceptions. Hardly anything could be said with certainty. And hardly everything was stored in her mind—that vastness refusing to be contained in just one thing. Or even in one world; creatures not found in any book had laid just beyond those cracks in the air. One, or two, or more could’ve slipped through. “You could be onto something.” Her feet stilled, and it was only then she realized she had been on the move at all. But they already missed that constant motion. Focus turned to the mentioned books, causing a chuckle to stir. “Would. But these guys do whatever the hell they want.” She wiggled her fingers and they blended and meddled together, like waves crashing into each other. “I’ll look ‘round. You focus on the books. We’ll see this through.” There was an attempt to turn and leave, but something held her there just a moment longer. Those hints of decay sprinkled on Morgan’s form—some grown worse over the course of their conversation. “Think you’ll manage?” The question spanning far beyond just Morgan’s research capability.

With the way Macleod lit up at the suggestion, Morgan could actually start to believe they were onto something. The world was full of strange things and there was so much they didn’t know. Of course if it wasn’t someone it had to be something. Maybe even a creature from another dimension. Some of the critters in those portals had probably gotten stuck on this side when Adam closed them, too, and maybe that was why they couldn’t understand the rules this infection worked on.

Morgan met Macleod’s eyes bravely. They were looking for a needle in a haystack. It might take weeks to comb through all of White Crest and identify the exact creatures they were looking for, especially if they turned out to be beyond sapient record on this world. But they would figure it out, wouldn’t they?

Somewhere beyond them, bewildered geese flapped their way to the sky and called to each other for safety, snow crunched under tired feet, a wind blew through the hollow tunnels of the world. Morgan took it all in, staring through the frosted windows. This was a world that buried its secrets better than its dead, but it was also one where life persisted in the most bitter cold. If anyone was proof of that, surely it was her and Macleod. And Morgan had a future to get to; Macleod probably did too, and if she didn’t, she deserved to stick around long enough to come up with one. So she had to be okay. There wasn’t room in this scenario for her not to be.

Morgan summoned her best smile and hoped with all she had that Macleod believed it and let some of the warmth rub off on her. “I’ve got this. And so do you. Death cut us a break once, right? Twice should be just as easy.”

That smile filled the air, found its way on Eilidh’s face, lifting her spirits in turn. Hell yeah. They had this. That implication hung in the air, threatened to bring it all back down. The one where she died. This soul she carried certainly had—will again. And technically death had touched her a few days prior. But the implication ran deeper than that, tied her to an assumption she kept getting chained to. But she did not let that weight touch her; only a twitch of a brow, a tighten of lips, betrayed these thoughts. Resolve kept her steady—kept them both just the same. Fate may try to give them a losing hand, but she’ll keep playing until a full house. And if not, well, seems she’s had her time then. Her soul will enjoy more, if these pesky blinks didn’t consume her in totality. For fate was hungry this week—eating away at her very soul, at Morgan’s very flesh. Was it feeding on others? How far did this hunger spread? She had no mind, no time to worry about passerbyers on the street. Those teeth readied to pierce again, steal more of them away. But she’ll try her hand at dentistry and rip them out before all was taken. “Good to hear! Let’s give this a–”

She vanished.

#wr eilidh #wr chatzy #wr eilidh chatzy #death rings twice

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sceptilemasterr · 3 years

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Defenders of the Flame (TE Rewrite) Act 3, Scene 1 - Identity Crisis

Title: Defenders of the Flame (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Shreya x F!MC, Beckett x F!Atlas

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite (The Elementalists, Book 1)

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Atlas helps Beckett, Fiora, and Shreya practice the first step of their Combat Forms.

Previous Scene: Surprises All Around

Masterlist: Link

EXT. PCSA MAIN QUAD - LAKE - MORNING

It is a frigid winter morning on Penderghast’s campus. The quad is completely deserted, save for a single figure: Atlas stands on the shore of the lake, running through some warm-up exercises on her own. Despite the fact that she is dressed only in thin athletic pants and a t-shirt, she does not appear to be bothered by the cold. Several times, she glances back in the direction of the main campus as though waiting for someone.

ATLAS (muttering): “Beauty rest” my ass. If I have to drag you out of bed myself, I will--

She stops talking abruptly when she hears the sound of footsteps in the snow. Looking back toward Fletchly Hall, she spots Fiora, Shreya, and Beckett all approaching the lake, Shreya apparently regaling the other two with a story of some kind. All of them are dressed for the weather, unlike Atlas. Atlas waves stiffly in their direction as they get closer.

ATLAS: There you are. Let’s start.

BECKETT: Yes, excellent. Straight to business.

The three of them assemble side-by-side, with Atlas standing between them and the lake. She claps her hands together and addresses the others.

ATLAS: Right. So, Stoicheal Gather.

FIORA (muttering): Well, hi to you too, Atlas...

Atlas either does not hear her sister or chooses to ignore her as she plants her feet comfortably apart, crosses her arms in front of her chest, and starts to concentrate. Within a few seconds, glowing blue wisps of Water Stoichi begin forming around Atlas, swirling faster and faster in a vortex with herself as the central point. Shreya and Fiora look around in surprise while Beckett calmly observes. The vortex of energy grows tighter around Atlas, until it finally flows all at once into her body with a thunderclap. Fiora lets out a soft shriek at the noise.

SHREYA: Wow. Nicely done!

BECKETT: An impressive display!

Atlas opens her eyes and lets her arms fall to her sides. Her skin glows a faint blue.

ATLAS: That was a Stoicheal Gather. It’s not gonna be easy; took me a year to learn it. And another year to master actual Combat Form.

Fiora frowns.

FIORA (panicking): But we’ve only got a few months!

ATLAS: And you’ve got a teacher. I was completely solo. Don’t worry about it.

She nonchalantly flicks a hand back toward the lake, unleashing a torrent of water pouring from her palm into the lake’s surface.

ATLAS: Anyway. Gather isn’t too different from what you’ve done before: sensing your innate stoicheal energy and all that. The difference is maintaining the kind of focus needed to draw up this much energy at once.

SHREYA: I’ve tried this on my own. I always lose it at the vortex. How did you get it to rush into yourself like that?

ATLAS: They call it the “foundation point.” And it’s honestly all mental.

She taps a finger to her head.

ATLAS: You need to keep your mind fixated on a single, strong concept that’s connected with who you are as a person. The way you think of yourself. Something that won’t waver or fade--that’s key! The foundation point is what’ll keep you from going feral once we get into actual Combat Forms.

FIORA: “A single, strong concept...” like what?

ATLAS: It’s unique to each of us. Mine, for example, is justice. My whole life I’ve been fighting against Raife and his damn cultists. Instead of using my hatred for Raife--which will just falter after he’s defeated--I focus on my sense of justice so I can maintain it even once he’s dealt with. That’s the most important part: it has to be a constant!

BECKETT: Ah! So, myself, for instance... I could use my identity as a Harrington and the sense of duty that comes with it. That is something that will be with me all of my life.

Atlas smirks.

ATLAS: Sure, that’ll work. As long as you think that’s strong enough.

SHREYA: Beckett, that gives me an idea! But instead of my path as a Mistry, I’d like to focus on my own path. My desire to step out from my family’s shadow and find my own future.

ATLAS: Kinda vague if you ask me, but sure. Fiora?

FIORA: Who, me? I... uh... I’ll think of something.

Atlas frowns but chooses not to comment.

ATLAS: Alright, everybody might want to spread apart a little. You saw how big my vortex started out--that’s how much space you’ll need.

Beckett, Shreya, and Fiora all exchange a glance before spreading out to allow enough space between them.

ATLAS: Right! Now, everyone try it! Focus on your foundation point and start drawing on your innate stoicheal energy!

The other three adopt similar poses to the one Atlas had done at the start of her demonstration, closing their eyes and focusing. For the first few seconds, nothing happens. Then, shining orange wisps of fire stoichi begin circling around Shreya.

ATLAS: There it is! Great, Shreya!

Fiora opens her eyes and looks over at Shreya. A few more wisps of energy steadily add themselves to her vortex as they grow faster and faster. Silver stoicheal energy starts appearing around Beckett, as well, though these are slower and fainter than the ones around Shreya.

ATLAS: Good, Beckett. Keep going!

Beckett visibly falters and his wisps of energy start to fade. He increases his concentration, bringing them back. Fiora closes her eyes and tries again, concentrating hard... but still nothing happens.

FIORA (frustrated): Ugh... come... ON!

The camera focuses on Fiora’s face, and we hear her voice, echoing in internal monologue:

FIORA (inner thoughts): Shreya... friends... Pend Pals... no, my old friends... Hartfeld... Penderghast... Shreya... Atlas, my sister... Shreya... school... justice? No, that’s Atlas’s...

ATLAS: Nice, Shreya! Now!

Shreya’s vortex is swirling furiously, fire stoichi surrounding her and almost touching her skin. Shreya opens her eyes in surprise at Atlas’s shout.

SHREYA: Wha--!

But that is enough to break her concentration. The Fire Stoichi around her dissipates, swirling off into the air and casting a brief warmth across the otherwise chilly campus.

SHREYA (frustrated): Zut alors! I was so close!

ATLAS: Not bad for your first real try. You’ve just gotta open your innate stoichi, allow it inside. It’s the opposite of what you’ve learned in class. You’re not releasing your innate stoichi, you’re letting it flow back in.

SHREYA: Ah, right. That makes sense.

Beckett’s own vortex is swirling still, but it is patchy, incomplete... large gaps in the side reveal he has not gathered quite enough Metal Stoichi yet. After another moment, the vortex starts to slow before dissipating into the air much like Shreya’s had.

BECKETT: It would seem I am struggling with this task.

ATLAS (nods): Your foundation point. Do you have anything else?

BECKETT: What, a replacement for my identity as a Harrington? I cannot possibly--

Atlas shakes her head.

ATLAS: Not a replacement. Alongside. A foundation point can be made up of more than one concept.

BECKETT: A second foundation point? Hmm...

ATLAS: Think about it. Shreya, why don’t you try again. You almost had it.

SHREYA: Okay, Atlas.

As Shreya focuses once more, Atlas walks over to Fiora.

FIORA: Sorry, Atlas... I can’t do it!

ATLAS: You barely summoned anything. I think I spotted one or two wisps, but...

FIORA (sighs): I knew it. I’m never gonna--

ATLAS: Alright, enough of that crap. Listen, Fiora. You’ve got the raw power: I think the whole birthday cake incident was enough proof of that. So that’s not the problem.

FIORA: Then what--?

ATLAS: The foundation point. What’s yours?

FIORA: I... uh... well, there’s a lot of things, but I’m not--

ATLAS: Then there’s your problem. You should have one, single answer for me when I ask you.

FIORA: I... I don’t.

ATLAS: Then find one! Fiora, tell me this: who are you?

FIORA: ...Huh? I’m, uh, your sister?

ATLAS: No, no. Who... are... you?

FIORA (thinking): Um... a Light-Att?

Atlas rubs her forehead in exasperation.

ATLAS: I’m really bad at this. It’s just... I think you’ll need some time to think on this. Maybe Shreya or Zeph could help. I’m probably the wrong person for this part. Sorry.

FIORA: No! It’s not you! I’m just... well...

There is a sound like a thunderclap, and Atlas and Fiora turn sharply in its direction to see Shreya, glowing with orange light and smiling broadly at them.

SHREYA: Atlas! Atlas! I did it! Look!

Atlas nods and walks over to Shreya.

ATLAS: Nicely done. Now, the next step is to--

Shreya’s skin starts glowing brighter. She looks down at herself nervously as Atlas begins summoning a swirl of water stoichi in her hand.

SHREYA: Uh... Atlas? What do I--

ATLAS: Let off the excess! Straight into the lake, launch the biggest blast of flame you can!

SHREYA: I--!

Shreya thrusts her arms out toward the lake, sending twin bursts of flame into the water. Steam billows up around them all... but Shreya is still glowing.

ATLAS: Bigger!

SHREYA: What?!

Flames start erupting around Shreya’s feet, lighting the grass around them on fire despite the snow. The flames grow bigger and bigger, before--

ATLAS: Deluge.

The energy in Atlas’s palm unleashes a torrential wave of water that washes over Shreya--and the fire--before flowing into the lake. Though Shreya stands sopping wet, there is no longer any trace of the fire at her feet, and her skin is back to normal.

SHREYA (shrieking): Atlas! Do you have any idea how much I paid for these clothes?!

ATLAS: Then why’d you wear them to a training session? Anyway, you’re not on fire anymore. You’re welcome.

BECKETT: I believe I understand. Once we’ve performed a Stoicheal Gather, that energy must go somewhere, correct?

ATLAS: Exactly. Energy can’t be created or destroyed. Once you’ve gathered that much stoichi, you’ve got to use it or else... it’ll “use” you.

She gestures at Shreya’s feet, where the flames have left a neat circle of melted snow behind.

ATLAS: Since we’re not ready for Combat Forms yet, that means letting it out in a huge blast of energy. That’s why we’re practicing by the lake. Build it up, and launch it--metal, fire, doesn’t matter--straight into the water.

SHREYA: Well! You could have told us that before we began!

ATLAS (sheepishly): ...I forgot.

BECKETT: Hmph. Perhaps, if your memory was as impeccable as mine is, you wouldn’t have--

ATLAS: Shut up and keep practicing, Harrington.

BECKETT (irritated): Very well, Luxen!

FIORA (innocently): ...What did I do?

BECKETT: Not you. I meant--oh, right. Same surname. I'd forgotten.

ATLAS (sarcastically): What was that about “impeccable memory?”

BECKETT: I... erm...

A short montage ensues of several more practice attempts, as Fiora struggles to think of something to use as her foundation point. Shreya is the first to perfect her Stoicheal Gather, but she struggles with releasing her energy; Atlas has to extinguish her flames on more than one occasion. Beckett eventually performs a Gather, which is followed by a massive cube of metal which he creates and launches into the lake, letting out a splash that drenches himself, Shreya, Atlas, and Fiora. Fiora, for her part, continues struggling, still unable to maintain her focus.

ATLAS (shouting): Alright! Enough!

She claps her hands together to get everyone’s attention. In the distance, a few students can be seen walking across the quad, now that it is a little later in the morning. Fiora stares down at her feet dejectedly, and Shreya walks over to her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

ATLAS: Today was a great start. I don’t know how often we’ll be able to do this--you’ve got classes and all--but we’ll find time. Class dismissed, or something.

FIORA: Thanks, Atlas.

Shreya and Fiora start walking back, away from the lake, while Beckett starts talking with Atlas. Fiora sighs in disappointment.

FIORA: Shreya, you looked so cool with your Stoicheal Gather! I’m a Light-Att and everything, but I couldn’t even manage this.

SHREYA: Fiora. It’s okay! It isn’t exactly a competition... besides, we still have months before they expect us to have Combat Form ready. Plenty of time to practice!

FIORA: I know, but still... Shreya, how did you do it? What’s the secret?

SHREYA: It’s like Atlas said: you need a strong foundation point.

FIORA (sadly): That’s exactly what I’m stuck on.

SHREYA: Here’s an easy one: why are you here at Penderghast?

FIORA: Uh... because I fell in a lake and ended up here?

SHREYA: Right. Bad example. What about the school you used to go to? The Tuneless one, I mean?

FIORA: Not really sure there, either. I was just there because it’s what people do after high school, I guess. I never really thought about it--

SHREYA: Then that’s your assignment for now: finding out what motivates you! And there’s no better person to help with that than myself, naturally!

As they continue walking, Shreya thinks for a moment, pondering how best to help Fiora with her problem. Then she catches sight of a glimmering poster affixed to the outside of the Fletchly Hall entrance.

SHREYA (excitedly): Oh! Fiora, look!

FIORA: What? Is it about Stoicheal Gather?

SHREYA: No, no, nothing like that. I’d forgotten! The Amorelia Day Gala is coming up soon! Oh, this is so exciting--my sister’s told me all about them, of course, but this will be my first chance to go to one myself!

She points to the poster, and Fiora follows her gaze. The poster is decorated with colorful silhouettes of dancing couples, all moving around the center. In the middle of the poster, the words “PCSA AMORELIA DAY GALA 2018 - MARCH 17, 7:00 PM” have been written in glimmering golden letters. Shreya beams at Fiora, who simply stares in puzzlement.

FIORA: Okay... but what is it?

SHREYA: Only the biggest social event of the school year! It’s a dance that’s held each year, celebrating the coming of spring. But mostly it’s an excuse for everyone to relax, enjoy themselves, and maybe... spend some quality time with a special someone!

She says the last few words while looking pointedly at Fiora.

FIORA: Oh. Wow. I, uh, didn’t even know about this!

SHREYA: That’s alright! It is rather exciting. And so much fun to prepare for--

FIORA: One thing at a time, Shreya... I’m too worried about this Combat Form thing to even think about a dance right now. I’ll worry about it later.

Frustrated, Fiora pushes open the doors to Fletchly Hall and steps through. Shreya frowns at the poster and sighs before following her inside.

_______________________

Notes: Here begins Act 3, and it seems like Fiora's got a ways to go to figure out this Combat Form business. Hmm...

_______________________

Next: Back in Session

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0 @shaylan211 @griselda1121 @acanthisorbis @marmolady @choicesbabie

DotF/Elementalists Tag List:

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