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curiositydooropened · 6 months

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Ranged • 01: Firetower

You and Steve have been sent on a missing person's case, a park ranger in the Cascades went missing from his post after reporting a large area of downed trees. Could be something up your alley.

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: 5742

Warnings: very slowburn, this fic is episodic, coworkers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore, weapons, fighting, murder, viruses, decay, monsters *This chapter contains mentions of animal harm, blood, vomit/nausea, potential character death, and whump/bad injuries - also hey, I'm not a doctor and this fic is free, so my inaccuracies might bug you. xo

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

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Moodboard • 00: Prologue • 02: Home [Coming Soon]

Fire Lookout Tower 647 - Cascades

Fog blanketed the forest floor and just beyond, it coated the tops of trees, covering pine needles in vast, rolling smoke. Everything lacked saturation up here, everything but verdant moss and fern and branch, a sea of grey and green, damp and deep. The sunlight filtered in way far off, to the West, but everything out of its reach had begun to groan under the steady pelt of plummeting rain.

Rain pittered and pat against the tin roof and into the quickly filling bucket in the corner. Its splash zone had been haphazardly mopped with a shaggy old towel.

You watched the landscape shift beyond the clouds, wrapped in wool socks and a flannel blanket while your partner took his turn retrieving fire wood from its drying spot beneath the tower.

His presence was announced by the groaning of stairs and the creaking of a rusted spring on the door.

Steve had only smiled a handful of times since you met him, a painful stretch of soft features, the wrinkle never leaving his brow. To be fair, your job rarely warranted more than a polite grimace to townsfolk whose crops you’d left ablaze, whose family members you’d left on a slab.

Today was no different.

“This place is a shit hole,” he grumbled, rolling cut wood from his arms onto the ground in front of the stove.

You hummed, knowing better than to argue something so trivial before he had his dinner.

He hunched to stoke the fire, now mere ashes and embers that glowed red in the little iron stove. He was soaked to the bone, dark hair clinging to his forehead and around his ears. He’d have to cut it again before your next return to Base.

His hands were bright red, nipped cold and hard-worked, and you rolled your eyes at the pair of gloves he’d left on the rickety card table near the door.

“Fucking rain,” he muttered, shoving kindling in hopes for it to catch.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself upright and reached for your own rain slicker on its hook. A puddle had formed and seeped through the floorboards, creating a patch of darkened wood that ringed with all puddles that had come before. “I’m going to get water to boil.”

“Be careful.”

The spring creaked. Rain gushed from dips in the roof and splashed loudly against rocks on the hillside.

You glanced back at Steve. He was hunched in front of a started fire, worry etched between his brows.

He shrugged. “I slipped at the bottom of the stairs.” He gestured to the mud that streaked his left pant-leg. “Be careful.”

You nodded and stepped out into the deluge.

The window coverings provided a good roof for the porch, save a few leaks here and there, and you clung to the side of the building as your guard rail to round it. You’d put empty buckets on the south end. All five of them had all overflowed.

You picked the lightest one. You’d managed to haul it back across slippery planks, dozens of feet in the air, to the door before your right foot slipped out from under you. With a yelp, and the sting of bitter cold against your ass cheeks, you fell. The building teetered under your shifted weight, and you clung to the railing with pinched breath.

The spring creaked. Steve stood at the door with lumbered shoulders and that same frown, looking down a freckled nose at you. He picked up the bucket with one hand and held his other for you to take. “I said, ‘be careful’.”

While the water boiled and Steve grumbled about canned meatballs, you stripped out of wet jeans and remained in damp Long Johns, removing your socks and hat and gloves to hang near the fire.

The sun had already dipped far to the west, catching on split clouds in purples and oranges before it was swallowed up again by the grey.

“You get the radio working?” Steve sighed, adverse to the quiet.

You shook your head and stirred tomato paste around in the pot. After many meals with Steve, you were sure he grew up in the kind of household that only ate their meals on trays in front of the television. He could never really sit and appreciate the stillness. “Go ahead and tinker with it. Is there a game tonight?”

“There was,” he deployed a long antenna and fidgeted with a few dials. Static buzzed from the plastic between his hands. “Might be too late. What time zone are we in?”

“Pacific,” you explained. “Two hours behind.”

You felt lighter after food. Warmth settled over your chest and shoulders, and you huddled further into your blanket.

Steve’s hair dried a little, and you managed to coax him into taking one of your spare hats. The stitches stretched over the circumference. With a sigh, you slowly ripped out the project you’d been knitting and cast more stitches onto your needle.

The radio hadn’t worked, too far out of reach to hear the score, and it had been discarded. Instead, Steve hummed, and the fire crackled, and your needles clacked against one another. The rain had died down, too.

“Think we’ll find him?” He asked, picking at the frayed stitching on the baseball he’d been tossing around.

Your target was the missing tower keeper, a man named Les Joplin who hadn’t reported in a few days after he’d gone in search of what he had described to dispatch as a rotten cropping of trees in the east acreage.

You glanced back up at Steve, never knowing if he wanted you to answer honestly or not. Your fingers kept pace. Knit, purl, knit, purl. “Hope so.”

“My grandmother used to knit.” He nodded to the project slowly making way in your hands.

You hummed. You’d heard this story before. A few months back, you began to notice a pattern to the information Steve had given you about his former life, only snapshots, hand-picked. You wondered if he had been trained this way, or if he still didn’t trust you.

The repeated stories didn’t stop you from prying for more.

“What’d you call you grandmother?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” He frowned back at you.

“You know, ‘grandma’, ‘granny’, ‘nana’?”

He snorted, rolled his eyes, tossed the ball a few times. “Grandmother.”

You cocked a brow. “Grandmother? What, like the Queen?”

There it was, the softest uptick of the corner of his lips, a flash of amusement in his eyes as he rolled them. “Exactly like the Queen. I was lucky if I got to address her as anything other than ‘ma’am’.”

Another peak behind the curtain. You snickered and pressed on. “Mom or Dad’s mom?”

“Uh…” He frowned again, mulling something over. “Mom’s. My dad’s parents were old as shit, died before I was born.” Another insight.

“How’d they meet, your parents?”

“Huh?” He blinked back at you, brow in a proper frown now. “I don’t know.”

You’d lost him. You’d pressed too hard. With a sigh, you turned back to your knitting. Knit, purl. Knit, purl.

He shook his head, and his sleeping bag shuffled as he stood and stretched. He set the baseball back on the little table, and it rolled until it met the pot of leftover spaghetti sauce. “Listen, I’m gonna take a leak, and we should probably think about getting some sleep. Early morning tomorrow.”

You nodded, tucked your knitting back into your bag. “I’ll wash the dishes.”

“Thank you.” He said, and he exited the little hut. The stairs creaked his whole way down.

“Robin? No. No, Robin, no.”

You awoke to Steve’s muffled cries. His sleeping bag shifted around a twitching body.

This wasn’t the first nightmare, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. You didn’t know who Robin was, and the fear in his voice dimmed your hope that she’d lived.

You swallowed to clear the sleep from your vocal cords before speaking his name into the darkness. It took several tries, a full shout, to snap him out of whatever version of Hell his subconscious had pulled him in, and when he did rouse, it was with force.

He shot from his pillow, gripping the hilt of a knife stashed under it, and glanced around the room. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You sighed, tucked your face into your pillow, and murmured. “I’m cold.”

“What?” He peered at you.

It wasn’t a lie. The fire had gone out, and your toes had numbed slightly, and you’d argued with him when he agreed to the floor, so you were sure he was cold too. Maybe that had caused the nightmare. “I’m cold. Will you just get over here, please?”

You heard his groan, and a shuffle of sleeping bag as he pulled himself upright. His back and shoulders were silhouetted, broad and hunched. He wound his sleeping bag up between his fists, joints cracking as he made his way over to your cot.

“Is there room?”

You shifted impossibly closer to the wall and hugged your sleeping bag to you to expose just how much room was left on the little cot. Not much, if you were being honest, but you were cold, and you had hoped your presence beside him might calm the terrors that plagued him.

He spread his blanket out beside you before asking if you needed a sip of water.

You shook your head, but watched as he ambled across the room to the rickety card table for a swig from the canteen.

The rain had stopped, but fog blanketed the windows on all sides. The sloshing of the water in his bottle sent a shiver through you.

“Alright, I’m coming,” he grumbled, and returned to slide himself into bed beside you.

His arm came up first, once he’d settled, and you stiffened under his hold.

“What’re you doing?” You rubbed at tired eyes, trying to catch any glimpse of the curve of his nose.

“Warming you up, don’t make it weird.” He looped you in, scooping your sleeping bag up between the two of you. His other arm reached around your middle and pulled you close.

You weren’t surprised at his strength. He’d offered you a helping hand with more than one injury in the field. You’d seen him pull women and children from burning buildings. That one time he hauled a sheepdog from the river, both man and beast soaking wet and panting, dog tossed around his broad shoulders.

“Better?” His gruff voice fanned your forehead, deliciously warm.

You hummed, reaching aching cold hands out to warm against his chest.

He hissed under your touch and wrapped your fingers up in his own. “Didn’t I tell you to sleep next to the fire?” He scolded.

“No,” you hummed, letting your eyes grow heavy again. “You told me to take the cot.”

He grumbled something incoherent and adjusted on the tiny pad beside you. You knew he’d complain about a crick in his neck in the morning.

“Night, Steve,” you mumbled.

His nose tipped itself against your temple, and he sighed. “Get some sleep.”

He slept after that.

—

The rain made rivulets of mud and Earth. Where trails once climbed the mountainside, rocks and boulders now fell, surging into teeming river beds.

Your boots squelched beneath you, each step a slip away from disaster.

Steve stood a few yards ahead, more surefooted. He whipped at overgrowth with the business end of a machete. “Joplin!” He cried out, startling a few birds from their perches.

You glanced around, hand around the gun strapped to your thigh, just in case. If Joplin was eaten by a bear out here, or worse, you had to have confidence in protecting yourselves. “Les!”

Steve called your name. He stood with his machete extended, scrubbing at his tired eyes with the palm of his other hand.

Just beyond him, the forest had been blighted. Root to crown, these massive conifers were decimated. A widow maker forest, limbs fell at odd angles, having melted from the trunk. Green grass and fern and vine turned to black ash.

You cursed under your breath and took careful steps to meet your partner to ensure the ground didn’t swallow you whole. When you reached him, the rancid stench stung in your nostrils, watered your eyes. “Well, guess he wasn’t kidding.”

You glanced back up to the fire tower, now a mere speck on the horizon.

Steve’s jaw clenched. He nodded. “I’m gonna look for holes. Call it in, will you?”

With a sigh, you stripped the heavy pack from your back. Your shoulders ached in relief. “Be careful.” You warned, and watched as he took off at a slower pace into the patch of rot.

You kept an eye on him as you dialed, service spotty, but you were quickly patched through to dispatch. “Yeah, hi.” You offered up your badge number, called in reinforcements for a controlled burn.

“How big is the affected area?” The woman on the other lined cracked her gum between her molars.

You glanced around at the rot. This was small, relatively fresh. A chill rolled down your spine. You looked from Steve to the blanket of mist rolling downhill from the clouds. “About ten acres.”

“Alright, hon, we’ll get someone out there in the next day or so. Are you in need of emergency evac?”

“No, we’re good to hang out until the crew gets here. Thank you.” She hung up first, and you pushed the antenna back into the device. Before you could shove it back into your bag, however, you heard a cry, a moan, really, in the distance, carried on the wind, prickling the hairs at the base of your neck.

“Steve?” You called out, standing up straight to survey the area.

You heard it again, to your left.

You swung around. Steve was gone. You were alone.

You took off on a run to where you’d last seen him, careful not to trip over any loose roots, trying not to bump any more precariously hung branches from their roosts hundreds of feet in the air. You called for your partner, still clutching the piece at your side in one hand, the satellite phone in the other.

The noise was louder now, a grunt and a groan, two noises, two distinct voices.

You stopped, surveyed your surroundings, posted up on the good side of a half-rotted stump.

“Can you walk?” Steve’s voice hissed from nearby.

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. You swung around, gun out, pointed toward the sound.

“I broke it,” another voice, unfamiliar, croaked. They were beneath you.

Rounding the stump, you found a hollowed out bit of ground wherein your partner was hacking away at the vines curled around the leg of an emaciated older man. This man was coated in mud and slime, curled hair sticking to his head. You sighed in relief and holstered your weapon.

“Les Joplin?” You asked, taking a few steps to the edge of the hole.

Both men jumped. Steve frowned back up at you before hacking away at another root.

Les gulped, nodded. Shit, you’d left your pack at the edge of the rot.

“Think you can limp it back to more solid ground? I’m going to call for an airlift.” You uncurled your knuckles from around the phone to dispatch the antenna and dial the number again.

Les winced, teeth grit, sweat streaking the mud on his forehead.

You pulled your partner’s gaze. His jaw ticked. He pushed hair from his eyes with the back of his hand. He nodded, threw the man’s arm over broad shoulders. “Alright, count of three?”

—

The rain came back as the air lift set down. Propellers pummeled large drops at you, sideways rain that stuck your clothes to your skin and cut off your breath.

You squeezed Les’s wrist as they strapped him to the gurney. His teeth chattered, face gray beneath a shiny mylar blanket. The ventilator obscured everything but his eyes, tired, frantic.

Steve spoke to the team. He was shouting, but you couldn’t hear his voice over the wind and the slap of rain.

Your hair stuck to the corners of your mouth.

Steve backed up to your front, shielding you behind his slim frame. He lifted a hand to wave as the helicopter ascended, clouds bending and melting beneath it.

When it was a high enough altitude, Steve linked a large hand around your wrist and tugged you upwards, through wind-whipped grass and mud, toward the lonesome fire tower.

The stairs were just as slick as the grass, and Steve kept a firm grip at your waist. To hold you upright or himself, you weren’t sure, but you felt anchored nonetheless.

When you finally summited, the world around you coated in a thick, grey cloud, you began to strip the soaked clothes from your body. Steve began to lodge firewood from the corner of the room into the little stove.

“We have to go back out there,” he grunted, lighting a match to kindling before tossing it in.

You groaned, unsticking your long-sleeve shirt from your back to wheel it over your head. “After lunch.” You pled.

You tried to stand your ground and not cower as Steve’s gaze swept your frame. He licked at pink lips, hair stuck to his face, his own clothes three shades darker than they were when you’d left the tower that morning.

“After lunch.” He conceded, unbuttoning his shirt. You watched his back muscles shift beneath the outline of a white tank top, the moles placed hither and thither.

You slipped a dry t-shirt over your head and began boiling water in a pot.

Steve’s knees were pulled to his chest, toes wiggling in dry socks.

You finished first, famished from your earlier excursion, and continued your knitting. The rhythmic clack of needles a metronome to the rain against the tin roof and pouring from spouts, the crackle of the fire, the steady in-take-out-take of your breath.

Steve eyed you warily, cheeks puffed around a meatball. He chewed, swallowed, and gestured with a fork toward the project in your lap. “What’re you making?”

“A hat,” you pinched your smile.

He reached between you to wrap thick fingers around the ball of yarn like a baseball. He pressed the fiber for a moment before nodding, licking something from between his molars. “I really like that color.”

You agreed. The burgundy would bring out the warmth of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks when he bickered with you.

“It felt good right? Helping Joplin.”

His words startled you, stitch slipping off the needle before you could catch it.

You blinked back at him, watched the worry etched between his brows, wondered what he could possibly be thinking, and you forced a bright smile. “Yeah, Steve, it felt great. That’s what this is all about, right? Saving people.”

He nodded, shrugged, tongued at his molars.

You can’t save everyone.

You picked your stitch back up and carried on. A few phrases turned in your mind, questions you’d posed to yourself before you dared ask him. ‘Doesn’t every save feel good?’ ‘Do you think Les’s leg’ll be okay?’ ‘Who couldn’t you save?’

You glanced to the spot on the floor where he had been tossing and turning the night before. ‘Who’s Robin?’ You couldn’t. You knew he’d throw himself into one of those broody nightmares, and you had a job to do.

“So,” you bundled your knitting and stuffed it back into the bag you brought it in, “what’re we thinking? Demodog? Demogorgon? Grizzly?”

“Yeah, you wish it’s a Grizzly.” Steve snorted, making to wash the dishes.

You did wish it was a Grizzly. At least you could shoot a Grizzly, watch it fall with a groan and lie peaceful against hard ground. Demodogs meant tunnel dwellers, a pack. Demogorgon meant portals.

“Hey, before we head out there, can I ask you something?” He stood with his hands full of items to be washed, hair finally drying into wisps of curls near his ears.

“Shoot,” you pulled yourself to a stand, rolled your stiff shoulders, got a little closer to the stove to warm your hands.

“Do I talk in my sleep?”

You had half a second to make your decision, and “No” came out faster than that. You weren’t sure why you lied, maybe it was the same reason you hadn’t asked him about the name he’d been crying out for. You had a job to do, and you couldn’t afford a sulking partner ten steps ahead.

His scowl proved he was weighing you up, trying to call your bluff. Apparently he convinced, he shrugged, and said, “Oh, well, you do.” Then he opened the creaky door and let himself outside to do the washing up.

—

The rain continued as you hunted. You slipped twice, twisting an ankle on a bunch of rocks hidden behind tall grass, but you’d had worse, so you persisted until the internal ache wore off and the external ache from the cold had you gritting your teeth.

“I fucking hate this place.” Steve dropped another meatball into the grass beside you. “It reminds me of that…” He glanced around, in the air, searching for phantom airborne monsters.

You hadn’t gone into the other dimension, not for long enough to really get a feel for it, not like Steve. You knew it was cold and damp and miserable though, and these mountains were starting to feel just as desolate, just as grey.

You came to the rot again, stench heavier under the blanket of ozone.

Steve pressed his lips into a whistle, low and slow, coaxing whatever may be lurking.

Your finger found the trigger at your hip. Bullets didn’t kill an inter dimensional creature, but it’d sure as Hell slow it down.

Without a response to his call, you carried on, following him and his endless trail of meatballs past the stump in which you’d found Les Joplin. Steve poked his head inside, but vines had already begun to seam it up, devouring the flesh of the tree that rot there.

“Do you remember what direction he said he saw it?” You asked, back to Steve as you surveyed the area. It could be anywhere, whatever it is. It was probably watching you now, smelling you, sensing you.

“Let’s head East,” Steve signaled.

You doubled back and headed toward a particularly treacherous outcropping along the hillside. Boulders carved rivulets in the landscape, water gushing over rock and stone in glorious splendor.

Your big toes were beginning to ache from the cold, and the sound of rain and wind and now waterfalls was hurting your ears. With a huff, you seated yourself on a soaked rock and pulled your pack from your back to salvage a chocolate bar.

“What’re you doing?” Steve snapped. He’d already trudged a good distance from you, and must have stopped when he didn’t hear the patter of your feet behind him.

“Maybe it was a deer,” you offered, ripping back the mylar packaging and indulging in one semi-sweet bite. It didn’t melt instantly, your teeth and jaw too cold to warm it.

“It wasn’t a deer.” That permanent crease in Steve’s forehead stuck out under a curl of wet hair.

“Come have a bite.” Your teeth chattered, hand extended. The chocolate was instantly pelted with rain.

Steve sighed and took a step toward you, and then promptly disappeared.

—

The cavern was deep, about ten feet high and thirty feet wide, a whole expanse of the forest that had just sunk in on itself. It looked like the vines hadn’t quite worked their way here, but the blight and the rain had washed away bits of the mountainside. The outcropping fell into the land and Steve had fallen into the rocks.

“Don’t come any closer!” He shouted, teeth grit in pain. He adjusted his leg, and you saw the blood spill from his knee cap to discolor his pant legs.

“I’m going to radio for help. How bad is it? Do you need to tourniquet it?”

“No , it’s just a scrape.” He lied through his teeth. “I can’t see how far this goes, so go slow, and be careful.”

With a nod, you made for your pack, muttering under your breath about your bossy partner, always getting himself into trouble. Then the breath was swept out of you as you free-fell into the cavern, too.

Your ankles rolled, the one from earlier crying out from added injury, and you jaw slammed closed on a portion of your tongue when you hit the cavern floor. It was softer than you expected, wet mud and dirt breaking most of your fall.

Your name echoed with the pounding of your heart as you regulated and pull yourself to a stand, brushing mud from your hands to your thighs. Water rushed into the cavern from above. Not enough to cause concern, but you stared up at the hole in the sky with a grimace.

Steve called your name again, and you turned to face him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, eyes wide with worry.

You shrugged, nodded. “My ankle hurts.”

“Is it broken?”

You assessed the injury, tried to roll it back into place. A sharp, shooting pain spilled up your spinal column. You nodded. “Probably.”

“I told you to be careful.” Steve scoffed from his lean against the far wall. He’d made no effort to rescue you.

“Is your leg broken?” You mapped your way to him, a slow and steady course through rocky terrain. Each step limped, you gripped the roots tied into the walls beside you.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “Just a bad cut.” His large hand shook, pressed to a gash that was dying the rainwater red.

“Well,” you sighed, “if the meatballs weren’t good enough…”

“Shut up,” he shifted in place, hand outstretched to help you over the last huge boulder. “Careful, sharp bit there.” He nodded to a likely culprit, a jagged bit of rock that stuck up at an odd angle. An odd substance pooled near the bottom, and you tried not to wretch when you realized it was likely the fat from Steve’s thigh.

“We need to get you off your feet.” You instructed, carrying his weight to help him find a good bit of stone that was flat enough, but not too slippery for him to rest. It proved to be quite the undertaking.

“It stopped raining,” he mused when he’d settled, the two of you wedged into a pit of mud that looked out of the gaping mouth onto grey skies.

He was right. You hadn’t noticed it beneath the swell of water surging downhill, and the patter that continued on the other edge of the cave, but the rain had stopped, or at least slowed.

“Did you play baseball in high school?” You asked, picking through the rubble for a hefty enough sized rock.

“Why?” Steve asked, perturbed by your questioning, but you noticed, for once, he didn’t have the energy to argue.

You could imagine him playing baseball, chewing sunflower seeds in the dug out, hiking around the bases in those tight little white pants. You smiled and tossed him the rock.

He caught it one-handed, clearly annoyed you’d thrown it in the first place.

You pointed to the spot you fell. “Throw it really hard. My pack’s up there. Might knock it into the hole.”

“Your pack-!?” Steve closed his eyes, took a few calming breaths. Then he shot you a look before hocking the rock as far as he could throw. It was very impressive.

You both waited with bated breath, but the impact created no further damaged, and you slumped into one another, asses wet and legs throbbing. “I have my flare,” you explained, patting the inside pocket of your jacket. You always kept one, and a lighter, filled, just in case.

Steve sighed. “Me too.” He was just loopy enough to flash you a tired smile.

“Alright, big boy,” you shook at his bicep to keep him alert and shrugged out of your jacket to remove your sweater. The air was warmer down her, and damp. Your breath fogged. “You’re going to have to stay awake until morning. So it’s time to tell me a story.”

Steve winced with each adjustment as you wrapped your sweater around his leg to aid with pressure. His hands still trembled, flesh of his palms bloodied, and you elevated his leg a little higher, pushing him into the mud at his back.

“What kind of story?” He asked, teeth chattering.

You hunched beside him and took both of his bloody hands into your own. The whole place smelled of Earth and iron. “Tell me about Indiana.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Come on. What position were you on the baseball team?”

He grit his teeth and shook his head. “I didn’t play baseball. Track and field.”

You smiled and unzipped his coat to let yourself in, arms wrapped around his trembling frame. You pressed your face to his throat, nestled under the crook of his jaw where stubble had begun to poke and scratch. “Alright, tell me about that then. Did your high school sweetheart cheer you on from the stands? Steve, Steve, he’s our man, if he can’t do it, no one can!” You actually managed to rah a chuckle out of him.

He winced again, his chin bouncing into your head. “She wasn’t a cheerleader. She was on the school paper.”

You changed your tone, put on a Trans-Atlantic accent. “Aaaaand they’re off. Steve Harrington takes the lead. Have you ever seen anything quicker on its feet? A horse, maybe.”

He snorted, swung his arm around you. “Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?”

“You have,” you nodded. “A number of times. Kind of rude, actually. I’m always saving your ass.”

He chuckled and mumbled an apology into your hair.

“What else can you tell me about Indiana?” Your own exhaustion had begun to creep around the corners of your mind, hearing the dull thud of Steve’s heartbeat match the ache in your ankle and shin and thigh.

When he didn’t respond, you prodded at his chest. “Steve.”

He shushed you, gripping your arm a little tighter.

You were suddenly very alert. You could hear birdsong just over the ripple and rush of water over the rocks. You heard it too, the distinct clicking growl of a flower-faced beast.

“Can you move?” Steve muttered into your hair, barely a whisper.

You nodded, swallowed, reached for the flare at your side.

“My knife,” he said. “Can you see it?” He nodded to where you’d found him.

You shifted in his arms, hoping the beast couldn’t hear the grunt he emitted between clenched molars. There, where rubble met a river of mud, you saw the glint of his knife.

With a deep breath and a strain of every muscle in your body, you hoisted yourself onto your good leg and began your precarious hobble to your weapon. The rocks twisted under your feet, and the pain churned your stomach.

“Easy,” Steve guided, his breath shallow. “You’ve got this.”

You managed to dip yourself low enough, balanced on one leg, to wrap your fingers around the hilt and lift it from the rubble. You caught yourself on the wall and released a breath you’d been holding.

The knife was a bit muddy, but mostly fine. It glinted in the diminishing sunlight, flashing the walls a pale pink red before your heard the call again. A rattled click preceded the visage that peered over the cavern mouth.

The dog’s face opened, all teeth and fleshy flower petals, and before Steve had a chance to instruct you, the thing was on you, and you were elbow-deep in Demodog. It’s teeth scraped and tore at the nylon of your parka and one final dying breath rattled from its small frame before it squelched off of your blade and to the ground.

“It’s not alone.” Steve warned from his spot on the floor.

You nodded, grit your teeth, and readied your stance for another.

—

Three demodogs died at your hands and burned. The acrid sting of burning flesh kept you awake, your body rejoicing at the warmth.

You managed to keep Steve awake, although his skin had paled and his eyelids drooped.

The smoke alerted the helicopter before your flare did.

Oxygen mask over your face, you linked your fingertips into Steve’s and offered him a smile. He was already asleep by the time you rose, higher and higher above cloud coverage and rain. You slipped up and away from the fire tower. Up and away from verdant hills and from rot and decay.

Steve’s grasp was loose in your hand, and you wondered what he dreamt about now. You hoped it was peaceful.

You finished his hat beside his hospital bed while you watched the latest game. Someone ran a home run. Steve cheered. You looped the last few stitches together and weaved in your ends.

“This is for you,” you tossed it onto his lap. The burgundy was stark against white sheets.

Steve frowned back at you, fingers toying with the fabric. “For me?”

You nodded. “You needed a wool hat. Just put it on and be grateful.”

He did as instructed, smile refusing to play on handsome features. He cocked an eyebrow to get your input. It was exactly as you’d hoped, a sweet contrast that a brought out the honeyed brown of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks.

You bit back a smile, rolled your eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Your ego doesn’t need this boost. Give it back.”

He smiled at that, a ruefully shy thing that had your heart pitter-pattering like rain on a tin roof. “No. It’s mine.”

“Steve,” you let your question linger on your tongue for a moment, wondering if you ought to ask it, if you ought to push.

He hummed, attention drawn back to the television.

You swallowed, let the question die. Maybe another day, you’d find out who Robin was, what happened to them.

“Yeah?” He glanced back at you, brown eyes wide with concern.

You smiled. “What did I say in my sleep?”

Once again, the corners of pink lips turned up, and he shook his head. “I’ll never tell.”

---

Moodboard • 00: Prologue • 02: Home [Coming Soon]

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington #ranged wip #ranged fic #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington episodic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington whump #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington coworkers to lovers #stranger things #stranger things fic

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bkaulitzz · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

check out more of my stuff on wattpad >0< b_kaulitzz

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info: ANGST, fem!reader x bill, usage of Y/n, 3.1k words

synopsis: you and bill cool off at a club!

more after cut :0

your dialogue

bill’s dialogue

I gripped the bed sheets as I sniffled, the room was dark, and I could barely see him yet I knew the look that he was giving me. My chest heaved up and down, eyes were blurry as I fluttered the tears away. His hair was disheveled, eyes wide with pursed lips. "You couldn't just fucking tell me that?"

"Tell you what? That I was at fucking work?! Do I have to text you every second now?!" Bill bellowed, clenching his fists that laid by his sides.

"That's not the point, Bill, " I hoarsed through sobs. "I was worried, okay? What if you got into a car crash or something?"

"You're doing it again, no I didn't get into some fucking car crash or whatever you're worried about, " He took steps closer to the bed, looking down at me. "It's almost as if you want it to happen."

"No, I don't! I would never wish that on you, Bill, " I brokenly sobbed and he let out a heavy sigh, pacing around the room.

"That's your problem, " He stopped by our dresser, slamming his fist onto it, causing the loose screws to shake and let out a noise as they hit against the wooden holes they sat in. I flinched, watching him turn his gaze towards me over his shoulder. "You're always fucking worried, I can take care of myself. Do you know how annoying it is-"

"I just care, Bill! I just want to know that you're okay and that you'll be okay. That's all I fucking ask for, " I sniffled, the skin under my eyes burned as I wiped the tears away from my puffy eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. The light from the hallway lit into our room, revealing Bill's face a bit with a beam. His mascara and eyeliner were runny from sweat or tears.

"Well, it's fucking annoying. Every second you text me to see where I am, or what I'm fucking doing-" He was cut off.

"Because I fucking care-"

"No, you're fucking insane! None of my exes have ever acted this way!-"

"Don't you dare compare me to them as if they've never done you wrong!" I snarled, pointing a finger at him as I clenched my jaw. He grit his teeth, furrowing his brows. His nostrils flared as he breathed heavily, we kept eye contact in silence for a few minutes before he parted his lips.

"I rather be with them than you, at least they knew when to leave me the fuck alone, " Bill spoke through clenched teeth. I felt my heart drop as I looked at him, my lips parted as my jaw hung low. My stomach turned as he looked at me with narrowed eyes and a frown, reaching into his back pocket. The sound of cigarettes shuffled as he pulled out the red-detailed 'Marlboro' box. "I'm gonna go smoke, I hope it lights on fire and burns the house down, " He scoffed before walking towards the bedroom door, not giving me another glance as the wood under him creaked. I bit my lip, feeling my face heat up as tears began to well up. I whimpered, falling back onto the bed, and reaching over for my phone on the bedside table. My face was lit up by the phone screen as I flipped it open.

— (these are text messages under)

AMBER (sorry if ur name is amber)

Me - 10:56 PM

"Amber answer pls."

Amber - 10:59 PM

"im here, what happened?"

Me - 10:59 PM

"he got home and the first thing we did was argue."

Amber - 11:01 PM

"again?? this is like the 7th time or somrthibg"

Me - 11:01 PM

"ik, i dont know what to do"

Amber - 11:01 PM

"well if he keeps doing this then u should dump his ass"

Me - 11:02 PM

"ik but i love him :("

Amber - 11:02 PM

"yea ik but hes toxic for u, theres sm better guys"

Me - 11:02 PM

"ig :( but hes so sweet"

Amber - 11:03 PM

"but is it worth it? for all the arguments?"

Me - 11:03 PM

"maybe its bc we r just out the honeymoon phase rn :("

Amber - 11:03 PM

"idk Y/n, ig."

Me - 11:04 PM

"we just have to see"

Amber - 11:04 PM

"okk wtv u say. also off topic but should i do pink or blue streaks?"

Me - 11:04 PM

"oh, pink, r u dying ur hair rn?"

Amber - 11:04 PM

"yea i just got it bleached. anyways, i just hope it works out"

Me - 11:05 PM

"i hope so too, im gonna go sleep now"

Amber - 11:05 PM

"sleep well, ily"

Me - 11:05 PM

"ily too"

—

I closed my phone, tossing it onto the table before pulling the blanket over me. I sniffled as I snuggled into the bed, fluttering my eyes close before drifting off.

***

My feet stood against the cold tile of the kitchen floors as I diced the potatoes. The ventilation hood let out a low hum as I boiled water on the stove, making stew for one. It's been days since we spoke, I couldn't even remember his voice by now. We barely met eye-to-eye anyway since he left early and came home late. I slid the bad piece of the potato to the side of the cutting board, continuing to cut the rest. I froze, seeing the familiar painted nails and each silver ring that fitted on each finger, snake around my waist. I bit my lip, continuing to cut the potatoes as I felt his chin rest on my shoulder.

"Love..." Bill spoke softly into my ear before placing gentle kisses on my ear lobe. "I missed you, " He continued, placing more kisses on my ear as he held me close. I stayed silent, focusing as I placed the pieces into a bowl. "I'm sorry for yelling at you...and saying all those things, " He kissed down to my neck, moving his hands onto my sides. He massaged my sides, placing long opened mouth kisses on the right side of my neck. "I didn't mean it, any of it. You're the sweetest and one of a kind...nothing can excuse what I said, " He hummed, continuing to kiss my neck. I felt my face heat up, my eyes welling up as my lip quivered. "You have to speak at some point, please?" He frowned against my skin, slowly moving his hands up my shirt. I shivered at the cold touch as he held my waist from under.

"How could you say those things to my face?" I wept, a tear falling down my cheek. He clicked his tongue, turning me around. The knife fell out of my hand and into the sink. Bill frowned as he looked down at me, his focus being on the teardrop on my cheek. He lifted my face by my chin with his finger, pecking the salty tear away. He wrapped his arms around my waist again, leaning back to look at me.

"My baby...I was having a bad day and I shouldn't have taken it out on you, " He pecked my lips, and I sniffled as I allowed him.

"You were so mean, " I whimpered, looking down at the neckline of his t-shirt.

"I know, I know, " He cupped my cheek, moving my gaze back up at him. "I'm sorry. I know you were just looking out for me, I was just so stressed, " He leaned in, placing his lips on mine again yet not pulling away this time. I reciprocated after a few seconds, closing my eyes before throwing my arms around his neck. His lips were soft and plump as I remembered each line that made up his lips. He moved his hands down and under my shirt to hold my waist again. He smiled against my lips, his hands wandering my body. I let out a pleased sigh, pushing myself against him. Bill let out a grunt, our lips moving against each other. He pulled away after a while, giving me a few pecks before his lips left. "Do you wanna go out tonight?"

"Go out? Where?" I tilted my head, moving my hands down and back against the counter I was leaning against.

"The club, since I know you love to dance...and drink, " He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking. I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"You know I love the drinks, " I hummed, standing up. "I guess we can."

"We can go...only if you forgive me, " He bit his lip with a smile.

"Fine...I forgive you, " I rolled my eyes. He grinned, pulling me back for another kiss. I let out a huff as I widened my eyes before kissing back.

"Go get ready, " He pecked my nose, reaching back to turn off the gas stove. "I want everyone to see how beautiful you are, " He hummed and massaged my sides. I nodded with a grin, pulling away to rush to our bathroom.

***

I licked the sweet taste from the corners of my lips, sitting on a stool by the bar. Bill's hand rested on my bare thigh as he sipped his glass of whiskey. DJ announcements roared into my ears as he announced the next song, scratching playing after that. Red lights hit Bill as I turned my attention to him, his eyes already on mine as he caressed my thigh with his thumb. He stayed close as people passed by dancing or dragging their feet.

"You having fun?" He asked, tilting his head as he placed his empty glass down on the counter, that was fogged with condensation.

"I guess, we haven't danced yet, " I shrugged. He hopped off his seat, taking my hand in his to pull me out of my seat. I let go of the glass in my hand, following along as he pulled me through people.

Bill grinned as he turned to me, stepping into an empty spot. There was enough room for us but people continued to hug us in. He took my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles before spinning me around. The music pounded into my chest as I pushed myself against him. He held my arm above my head, his jeans tickling the back of my thighs. I bit my lip as my feet stayed stagnant, and my ankles flowed with me as I moved my body against Bill. My body heated up as I did. He followed my rhythm, mirroring each body roll I did. He grinned, wrapping an arm around my waist as we continued. I laid my head back on his chest, continuing to roll my body with him. His hand snaked down to my thigh, caressing it as I grinded against him. People continue to dance around us. I reached back with my free hand, my fingers tangling with his hair as my hand held his nape. He grinned down at me and I looked up at him with a lazy smile. My hand slid from his nape to his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips pressed against mine and I closed my eyes, my gloss, and his chapstick mixing. I gasped softly, feeling his soft grasp move to my waist. Bill pulled away, turning me to face him.

"I'll be back, I need to go to the restroom, " He pecked my lips again.

"Stay safe, " I let out. He nodded in response, kissing my nose before pulling away. He pushed the people, making his way to the restroom. I lost sight of him, making my way back to the bar. I sighed, taking my seat again, and turning my whole body onto the counter. I laid my handbag in my lap, motioning the bartender over. "Get me something sweet, please, " I grinned, watching them get to work. I rested my hand as my elbow rested on the table. I frowned, looking around as the dark-haired male wasn't back or anywhere nearby. I looked down at my lap, popping my handbag open to pull out my flip phone.

—

BILL <3

Me - 12:37 AM

"bill u ok??"

—

I furrowed my brows, staring at my phone for five minutes. My palms grew slick from sweat, and I closed my phone with no response. I nibbled on my lip, watching as the drink was placed in front of me. "Thank you, " I mumbled, taking a sip as my thumb fidgeted with the fingers on my free hand. I flinched, seeing a tall figure enter my vision, but it wasn't my Bill. I kept my focus on my drink, shaking my left leg up and down against the shiny floor.

"Hey, " The low voice spoke behind me, leaning onto the counter to face me. He snapped his fingers in my face, furrowing his eyebrows. "I said hey, lady. Gosh, do girls just ignore good-looking men these days?" He scoffed. I turned my head slowly to him with an eye roll. His hair was curly, ginger. Skin pale with sharp, green eyes as they stared right into my eyes.

"What do you want?" I covered my drink with my palm. He grinned as he stared over my features, his gaze slowly going down to my cleavage. I placed my free hand over my chest, scoffing. His face was stubbled with the same hair color that sat on his head.

"What do I want? Is that how you flirt? I'm just trying to be nice here. I see a nice woman alone at the bar and I approach her, " He spoke, even though he was inches away and the air was stale, I could smell his beer breath from where I was sitting.

"No, I'm not alone. I'm here with my boyfriend, " I scoffed, sitting up straight and tightening my core.

"Well I don't see him, don't lie to me, " He snickered, a hand reaching out for my shoulder. I widened my eyes, instinctively picking up my drink and throwing it in his face. He clenched his eyes shut, covering his eyes with a hiss. "You fucking bitch!" He growled. I slammed the glass down, sliding off my seat before running to the restroom. I pushed past people, the music growing distinct as I made it to the long hallway. My heels clacking and echoing through them.

"Bill! Bill!" I called out with a cry. I froze in my steps, hearing loud kissing noises and small groans. I took a turn, the kisses only becoming louder. I felt my heart sink, seeing familiar brunette hair with pink streaks tangled into his polished fingernails. Bill's eyes were shut closed as his lips moved against Amber's. His hands on her in a way that he would never touch me the same. I covered my mouth, feeling my face heat up, my eyes blurry as my stomach turned. Her hands were on him, places where I knew he was weak. I felt my knees shake, the pain in my feet from the heels where I once felt like I floated.

"Fuck...I love you, Amber, " He breathed against her lips. She smirked against his lips, moving her kisses down to his neck. He groaned, throwing his head back, his eyebrows knitting as her hand trailed down. I bit on my lip harshly, clenching my fists as they moved down to my sides. I dug my nails into the vegan leather that made my hand bag, turning around. I breathed heavily, my chest heaving as I stormed away. My face was damp by now, and I looked down as I moved past people, making my way out. Once the cold air hit me as I made it past the bouncer, I let out sobs, my chest heavy as I wiped away my tears. I looked at my hand, it was covered by the runny mascara and foundation I had on.

"God, how could they?" My throat was sore already from breathing uneasily, taking out my phone for a taxi.

***

I couldn't eat or sleep, staying in bed all day. The makeup from three days ago was still on my face with small residue as I laid in sweats. I held my pillow, hoping that the next sound from downstairs would be Bill opening the door with flowers in hand. Yet, I was disappointed after each small creak, having nothing come in return. I sat up, the sheets shuffling against me as I leaned against the headboard. I reached for my phone, gritting my teeth as I dialed her.

"What?" The feminine voice answered.

"I thought you fucking cared about me, " My breath was going at a familiar pattern from days ago, my nostrils flaring as my nails dug into my palm.

"I mean...why did you think I was trying to get you to break up with him?" Amber yawned.

"He's gonna do the same to you, " I snarled. She sighed, rustling could be heard from the other end.

"I don't think so...I mean. Why do you think he always comes home late?" She responded. I could feel the smirk on her face and scoffed, wiping the tear that rolled down my cheek.

"I don't even know you anymore, Amber, " I sniffled.

"When did you ever?" She breathed. Small kissing noises could be heard with more rustling.

"Who's on the phone, babe?" A masculine voice groggily spoke.

"No one, Bill, go back to sleep, " She giggled softly as kisses noises followed. "Stop, babe, " She whined softly as more kisses followed.

"How can I? You're so beautiful, " He murmured. I felt my throat form a lump, my stomach turning as if I could vomit right there and then. I clenched my jaw, putting my lips to the speaker.

"Fuck you both, " I snarled through bared teeth, closing the phone shut, tossing it aside. I sniffled, wiping my eyes one last time, before heading to the shower.

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WRITTEN BY MEEE

bill, bill kaulitz, angst, sad, kaulitz

145 notes · View notes

lovelybruises-backup · 1 year

Text

Credits of the Neteyam picture go to @cinetrix

「 ✦drabble 01✦ 」

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!oc (Ellie oc)

POV: 3rd person

CW: knotting, alpha Neteyam, a/b/o universe, dirty talk, praise kink, breeding kink, semi fluff of Neteyam being worried, p in v.

A/N: Characters Are Aged Up!!!!! Also I used my last recent asks regarding the whole alpha Neteyam thought I had so enjoy! May be bad but oh well. Lowkey trying to get out of this depression hole and I had this in the drafts…

Slightly proofread.

Na’vi to English Translations: Tawtute - skyperson, human & Yawne - beloved

Ellie was on all fours, her ass was in the air while her chest was pressed into the woven bed mat, her back arching.

"Ready love?" Neteyam asked huskily, "yes please" she begged and that's all it took for Neteyam to push into her. A moan fell from Ellies lips, while she could hear Neteyam purr and whimper, "holy fuck!" he gasped out and slowly moved in and out of her. Ellie knew he wanted to be gentle since the possibility of hurting her was a high risk. But she could also feel him become rough, his rut was clouding his senses really fast.

“I’m sorry ma yawne, I’ll go slow” he gritted through clenched teeth as he slowed down to allow her to adjust to his size. Ellies breathing was slightly heavy and she could feel the pain radiating through her body which overpowered the pleasure she craved.

After a few minutes passed, she felt the pain slip away. “You can move now.. I’m okay” she whimpered and that’s all Neteyam needed to start moving. Ellie could see the internal struggle he was facing to be gentle with her.

“I’m okay my love.. use me” her words caused his ears to pin back against his head as he growled lowly. “I cannot hurt you Ellie” Neteyam spoke huskily, “I’ll be okay..! You’re hurting” she argued back.

“You’re so goddamn stubborn.. safe word is blueberry if I become too much” Neteyam stated firmly and she gave him a firm nod. He smirked and her consent was all that he needed.

He slammed into her with no hesitation, this time with more force, causing her knees to buckle. She let out a loud cry as she felt tears of pleasure well up in her eyes.

Neteyam held on tightly to her hips, definitely leaving handprints bruised into her pale skin. Each thrust, pulled a moan from her lips as well as mixed whimpers of pain. Every thrust made her clench around him, causing him to grunt. He kept one hand on her waist while his other hand located her clit and massaged short, rapid circles on it.

"Oh fuck!" Ellie exclaimed. The pleasure was definitely getting to her. She quivered and clenched around him as he proceeded to torture her sensitive clit and pounding relentlessly into her. She felt her orgasm approaching, but he pulled out before she could cum.

She shifted her gaze towards him, unsure of what was going on. He got off of the bed with a smirk on his face. Ellie flipped over and rolled onto her back. He hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around him as he walked them over to the beautiful woven carpet in front of the fire place. Before Ellie could ask what he was doing, he laid her down on the soft carpet and he pushed his cock back into her and fucked her on the floor of the room. This position brought her nothing but pleasure. His cock repeatedly grazed her soft spot.

She arched her back, causing her pelvis to be angled downwards, that angle itself pulled a purr out of Neteyam and she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He took advantage of the situation and started to kiss her neck. Ellie softly pulled at his braided hair with her fingertips. She could tell he was close because his thrusts became harder and sloppier. With each stroke, he rubbed against her g-spot, prompting her to let out a loud moan. Or a scream for that matter.

"Neteyam," she yelled, and he looked at her, "cum for me, my love." As he established direct eye contact with her, he stated, "I know you can do it." His thrusts became more and more rapid, Ellie shook her head as she held her orgasm for a bit longer, Neteyam smirked and took that as a challenge.

So Neteyam slowed down his thrusts, the sensation made them groan. After a few slow thrusts, he pulls out his cock and forcefully shoves it back inside of her, causing her to tighten her legs around his waist even more. His tail coiled around her ankle, he was trying hard to prevent knotting her because that was dangerous— but he was struggling. He does this a few times before slamming his cock into her at a harsh and quick speed.

With each thrust, she could feel his tip press against her g-spot but with his knot trying to probe into her— it caused his mushroom tip to poke at her cervix instead, prompting her to quiver. Neteyam trapped her with one hand on her lower stomach, forcing her to receive what he was giving. "You're mine" he growled into her ear as he nipped it and then leaned down to the right side of her neck, sucking harshly, he smirked and sank his canines into her flesh between her neck and shoulder. She moaned in ecstasy as his fangs had drew blood.

That action made Neteyam overwhelmed with lust and excitement, her blood dripped down her chest as he looked at her. Ellie had tears streaming down her cheeks from the immense pain and pleasure, "are you okay baby?" He asked worried, Ellie sniffled as she looked at him, "yes.. I'm okay, please don't stop" she replied and Neteyam kissed her lovingly.

Soon enough his thrusts became too much for her, she came undone beneath him. His massive cock stretched and brushed against her walls, urging her to run from the pleasure.

He played with her breasts with his free hand, pinching, twisting, and flicking them. She knew her breasts would be sore tomorrow, but she didn't mind because she loved the way he made her feel. His thrusts got more abrasive, causing her thighs to tremble from overstimulation.

She screamed, tightly digging her nails into his back, causing Neteyam to hiss sharply. As his tip struck her g-spot once more, she came all over his cock. He continued to pound into her like a beast even after her high had worn off. Sweat dripped down his body, coating his chest.

In an attempt to stop him, she brought her hand down to his lower stomach, but he slapped it away. "You will cum again" he growled out and kept going, soon enough it became too much for her. With a whimper and clenching around him, Ellie’s body pulsed as she shook, Neteyam heard a whimper mixed with a purr as she came on his cock.

“Fuck baby, that was hot. Gonna fill you up! Nngh- gonna breed your little human pussy” Neteyam grunted as he kept the rough pace.

“I-it’s too much!! Neteyam.. fuck please.. you can’t knot me..” Ellie cried as she felt herself fall into a daze like state of overstimulation.

“I don’t fucking care, you’re gonna take every last drop like a good girl. I know you can make me proud baby, wanna make me happy? Huh?” He cooed as he kept thrusting in and out of Ellie, the squelching noises were like music to his ears.

“Mhm.. wanna be a good girl for you” Ellie whined as she felt her body tremble, “god baby. Your scent is so intoxicating, your body begging to be filled with my cum” he growled, his grip tightened on her body.

Neteyam thrusted inside of her a few more times before pushing his knot into her which caused her breath to hitch and squirm beneath him. “Fuck! Neteyam…” Ellie cried as she felt his warm load fill her womb, his knot had pushed its way into her cervix. Neteyam began to kiss all over her cheeks and forehead to calm her down, “shh baby it’s okay.. I’m right here. F-fuck you feel so tight and good. Good girl for taking it” he spoke softly.

Ellie was panting, whimpering and tears streaming down her face as she tried to calm down. “T-too big” she hiccuped as she felt him caress her stomach, “I got you baby” he whispered lovingly.

Neteyam thought he was done but the last bits of his knot burrowed into Ellie’s cervix in which he couldn’t help his next action. Neteyam immediately sunk his fangs into her left shoulder, keeping her locked into place as his knot kept them tied. His scent was luring Ellie into a calm state but she was still crying underneath him.

He retracted his fangs from her shoulder and licked up the blood that was drawn, “shh baby. Let’s rest now” he whispered as he began to rub his scent on her while laying them into a comfortable position since they were going to be tied together for a few hours.

“You did good my love.. thank you for helping me” Neteyam spoke as he caressed Ellie softly, in which Ellie was whining faintly as she calmed down slowly.

“I love you my tawtute” Neteyam kissed her head and laid back down with Ellie lying on his chest. “I love you too ma Neteyam” she mumbled as she began to doze off. Neteyam then dozed off as well.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

#neteyam #neteyam x oc #atwow neteyam #avatar way of water #neteyam fanfiction #Neteyam x human #neteyam smut #aged up neteyam #a/b/o verse #original writing #neteyam sully #not good at writing smut #snow’s original writing ✍🏼

133 notes · View notes

robinewe · 3 months

Text

Two Soulmates

Prompt #22-- Doubles

My heart was pounding amid the quiet, the occasional creak of metal or far off shouting. The light was dim, I could tell even under my blindfold, but even though I couldn’t see I could sense that I was alone. My fingers worked at the knots at my wrists. I’d always been good at knots, I had a Girl Scouts badge to prove it. The rope was slick, synthetic fiber, so it came easily undone.

I yanked off the blindfold and blinked while I willed my eyes to adjust faster. The room was much as I’d expected. Cavernous, dim, no windows, light only from a flickering fluorescent bulb somewhere high above. Lots of entrances and exits to choose from. Rusting metal and clouds of dust everywhere.

I checked my wrist, still feeling the bite of the ropes, and saw that the number etched in white across the skin there read a clear 00:00:00:00:02:46. I yanked the sleeve of my jacket down over it, heat rising to my face. That was just so soon, and I couldn’t imagine the most momentous occasion of my life occurring in such a place as this, an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Just my luck.

Seeing as I was alone, I had some searching to do. I dashed out of the room, following those distant shouts with a growing apprehension in my stomach. What happened after I found them? How were we to escape?

00:00:00:00:01:25 read the counter on my wrist. A part of the infrastructure collapsed and sent a storm of dust and debris through the corridor. I coughed, hacking into my elbow and squeezing my eyes shut.

There was now a gaping hole in the wall, and artificial light streamed through. The sounds of fighting were much louder now. They were through there.

I took a deep breath and braced myself and climbed over the metallic shrapnel through the wall. I could hear nothing but shouting, weapons firing, metal hitting metal, objects raining to the floor. I caught sight of neither combatant, only finding the evidence of their battle.

The timer on my wrist ticked down as a blast of heated energy hit the platform above me, and the supports gave out from under one side. It came swinging down towards me, and I screamed, throwing my arms over my face. The thing exploded in the air above me, but a clear glowing shield of energy surrounded me then, the debris bouncing harmlessly away. I found myself on the ground regardless.

I opened my eyes to see two concerned faces as the timer struck zero. There were warm, dark brown eyes further away, amidst curly light hair and an orange scarf covering the bottom half of his face. He held a long, thin gun that radiated heat and distorted the air around it, recently used. Much closer to me were eyes that were icy blue, set in a face with gaunt cheekbones, under dark hair, hidden with no mask. Emanating from his hand was the energy shielding me from harm.

The moment stood still, frozen, while we watched each other with wide eyes.

The villain spoke first, recovering his calculated posture and withdrawing the energy. “So it’s you.”

The hero took a second to recover, but then he took a stilted step towards us. “I-”

A look of irritation passed across the villain’s face. “This is a private moment, if you wouldn’t mind.” He snapped his fingers and a flash of ice erupted from his palms, encasing the hero’s entire body in a jagged block of ice.

I was still on the ground, and I started pushing myself backwards, away from the villain. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I wasn’t sure if the hero was dead or not. I knew that I was afraid of the villain. I had seen what he’d done before.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, holding up his hands placatingly. “Look.” His sleeve slipped down to reveal a timer ticking up, only a minute or so in. I quickly looked down to my own wrist, and saw a duplicate of the same number: 00:00:00:00:03:11. They counted up in tandem. They had since the moment I had first locked eyes with the villain. The notion made me feel something in my stomach, a sort of nausea, though whether it was giddiness or dread I couldn’t say.

I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t say anything, and I was worried that my soulmate had just killed someone in front of me not moments after we had met. I was afraid that my soulmate was a murderer, and I didn’t know what that meant about me. I still found myself on the ground, unable to move away further.

“I would never hurt my own soulmate,” the villain said. “I’ve been waiting an awfully long time to meet you. Haven’t you?” Cautiously, he offered me a hand, stepping closer to do so. He was tall and slight, bending like a tree to lean over me and extending a hand tipped with long, graceful fingers. I placed my hand in his, and he easily pulled me to my feet and then close into his side, wrapping an arm around me. My head didn’t reach the height of his shoulders.

“Is this some kind of trick?” I asked, once I could force my lips to move again. His face fell.

“Of course not,” he said. “How does one trick fate itself?”

“Why would I fall in love with a supervillain?”

His lip twitched. “Now that’s stereotyping. It’s rude, you don’t even know me.”

“I’ve seen what you do,” I protested.

“We don’t have time for this. Hero’s already thawing himself out,” he jerked a thumb towards his ice sculpture. Those brown eyes were still frozen staring at me, looking almost frantic, as the ice around him dripped. The tip of his heat gun had already freed itself, sticking out of the ice and a little streak of fire coming out of the end. Soon the hero’s hands would be free, and then the rest of him.

I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He was alive. I took a step towards him, to go and make sure that he would stay that way, but the villain blocked my path.

“Please, we can talk more about this somewhere else where it’s safer. Look, you’ve already got me begging. That’s something I don’t do every day.” My eyes drifted back up to him.

“Fine.”

He replaced his arm around my shoulder and guided me swiftly out of the warehouse, to where a car awaited us. It hovered above the ground with a gentle hum of air, and the windows were tinted entirely black. The villain opened the rounded door, gesturing me inside with a bow and a quirk of his lips. I stepped inside, and found it well-kept and clean, a newer expensive model of the podcar that I would never have expected to see in my lifetime. My friends all had the first generation, with all their faults and peculiarities, most of them full of patched repair jobs and junk filling the space.

It had an automatic pilot, so the villain needed only to duck in behind me, and order, “Drive us home.”

The ice eventually thawed to the point where the hero’s wrist was out and visible. It counted upwards in perfect synchronicity with the villain’s and mine. But he was powerless to stop as his worst enemy stole away his true love.

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moonlight-prose · 1 year

Text

FOR THE LOVE OF DANGER

╰┈➤ #01: ONE LAST TIME

a/n: so i finally FINALLY saw the movie and even though it's really late since it came out, i'm happy to write for him at last. this is partial brain rot and a partially thought out plot that has been in the works for months. i'd heard of spidey 2099 before, but never thought i'd fall in love with him to this extent. this fic was also supposed to come out last month, but i'm always behind on everything. so i hope y'all enjoy this wild ride.

note: a massive huge fucking THANK YOU to @soulores for being the best beta reader a girl could have. seriously i couldn't have finished this without you.

dedicated to: @sunflowersteves for listening to me rant about how pretty he is and for being the first person to ever hear about this plot. thank you for being one of the best person here babes.

summary: when things go awry in your life you find yourself back at el nido - a comfort spot in the darker parts of the city - in need of peace. only to run into him.

word count: 8.5k+ (somehow???)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, alcohol consumption, one night stands, p in v sex, rough sex, cumeating if you squint, cumplay if you really really squint, my awful attempts at dirty talk, soft miguel, the start of chaos.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

NUEVA YORK 2099; EARTH-298

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara… and I’m scared.

You couldn’t breathe, the speed of your heart rate nearly caused you to believe you were going into cardiac arrest. Some small part of your brain wanted to actually check. It wasn’t hard to simply waltz right into the nearest hospital. Although dealing with the disbelief on doctors and nurses faces as you asked them to check if you were dying pushed you away from the idea altogether.

Another day at a job that didn’t allow you to have anything, left you seeking out the only thing you knew would help. An old dive bar still resided in the lower part of the city—The Nest, or as the owner called it El Nido—as local folk often referred to it. Although you were more than happy to call it a safe haven.

Everything was so pristine where you worked, so perfect. But The Nest was simply a small hole in the wall that helped people find a spot to feel safe for an hour or two. You tended to avoid going there on weekdays, but seeing as how you were about to be fired from your job…you felt it was necessary.

Sighing, you hitched your bag up higher on your shoulder, the weariness from the day finally settling its weight over you. What you wouldn’t give to be asleep right now, curled up in bed. Except you couldn’t go home. Not when all that remained was the dreaded time spent waiting for tomorrow. The day they would more than likely—officially—ask you to leave.

“Sorry,” you muttered, accidentally slamming into a woman walking hand in hand with her partner. The man glared at you, the gaze enough for you to quicken your step towards your destination.

The smell of the bar was exactly the same. Ricky always loved incense, and while you claimed it would drive customers away, he somehow made it work. Letting out a calming breath, you headed right towards your stool at the bar. The worn in leather a comfort after sitting in a stiff backed office chair all day. It was partially ripped and practically ruined, but you could already feel the stress melt off your body.

“Mi florita!” Ricky shouted, handing off a drink to an older man with white hair.

“Hey Ricky—oof—” He leaned across the bar, dragged you closer, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His breath was tinged with cinnamon and a hint of mint—letting you know he’d been drinking his favorite tea all day.

Nonetheless you smiled at his kind gesture. Ricky was like the cousin you had never had, but always wanted. Standing at around six feet with tattoos going up and down his tanned arms and his hair chopped into a mess of wild curls, he was your favorite person. The one you always sought out in times of trouble, if anything just to laugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for you. He loved his boyfriend too much to put you higher up on the scale—or so he claimed.

“How’s the job?” He poured you a martini, extra dry, extra dirty. “Are you playing nice with all the fancy folk?”

You chuckled, taking a sip and letting the alcohol burn its way down. “The fancy folk are slowly driving me insane.”

“Uh oh.”

Another sip caused yet another part of your stress to fade. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for them to give me the same leniency they offer to other employees.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I mean it won’t matter anyways tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ricky slid a drink to the person sitting a stool away from you, taking the small amount of cash he offered.

“The day I’m probably gonna get fired.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly causing the glass of whiskey in front of him to spill over.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can just…find a new place to work at. I mean there has to be other labs in need of a biochemist. Right?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the bottle in his hands. “Florita…” Your stomach dropped, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you—turning your once rose hued glasses clear.

They were going to ask you to leave and because it was Alchemax, there was no other option but for you to beg for forgiveness. An act you had sworn to yourself that you’d never do. You were a good scientist. Hell you were the best in that fucking lab, yet they couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to go your own way. To carve your own path in a company that was adamant on placing you in a box. Keeping you perfectly pristine for those on the outside—those that might wish to give you freedom.

Holding up your hand, you stopped him from saying anything else. If shit was meant to go sideways tomorrow, then so be it. You’d go out like a champion, worthy of whatever came next. Downing the remainder of your drink you slid the empty glass towards Ricky, nodding at him to fill it up. At least with that he didn’t hesitate, knowing you needed something to take the edge off—your night already taking a turn for the worst.

“Just gotta keep going,” you muttered, staring at the liquid in the hopes that it would magically fix everything.

“You got this chica.” Words that seemed empty at a time like this somehow brought a small smile to your lips.

Taking another sip you thanked him softly and watched him wander off to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a group of men that were most likely there to buy out the bar. It happened every once in a while, but you couldn’t exactly fault them. They were here to have fun, to make an otherwise regular night memorable. They certainly weren’t here to wallow in their drinks, swallowing down their misery in the hopes of finding something good to take away.

“Shit,” you muttered when you came to the bottom of the glass again, your finger tracing the rim.

“Firing a biochemist is the stupidest thing a lab could do.”

You jumped when someone’s voice came from beside you—the man a stool away now focusing the entirety of his attention on you. Perhaps it was the vodka or the low neon lights of the bar, but you could have sworn his eyes were red. The color so striking it sent a chill down your spine—as if he was analyzing you with one simple glance. For a second you forgot he even said anything—too busy taking in his soft brown hair and strong jaw—until his lips quirked up into a grin.

One that made your heart flip in your chest, heat rising beneath your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping?” you inquired, gathering enough courage to confront him about his blatant behavior.

His lips pulled up on one side, something glimmering in his eyes that had you hooked the longer he looked at you. “Lo siento,” he said softly—his voice slightly mumbled. “Didn’t mean to. I just heard you talking about something that interests me.”

“Ah.” You glanced away to escape his penetrating stare, if for a chance to catch the breath in your lungs. “So you’re a scientist.”

Pride bloomed in your chest when he was caught off guard. His glass halfway to his mouth when the statement left your mouth. Once again that mysterious light flickered to life again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and causing your heart to erratically beat in your chest. Taking a sip, he gently set the now empty glass back on the bar. The tension was so thick you swore you could slice it in half, heat spilling into your body.

“You’re observant.”

Shrugging, you took your own sip—the alcohol no longer burning your throat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. What else from that conversation would interest you?”

“You.”

The words were out of his mouth before you could even finish the question, your breath catching at the sound of them. Your day had been shit. Enough to rival doomsday itself, but there you were sitting at a bar with him. A man who’s name you didn’t know. The smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, your eyes roving down his figure in an attempt to make him feel half of what he stirred in you.

“Let me buy you a drink?” you asked, pointing to his empty glass.

“I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Your smile widened. “Then ask me.”

For the second time that night he was caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly. The song behind you shifted, a low tune you could feel reverberating through you as he changed seats, taking the stool directly beside you. He moved silently, his thighs pressed tightly against yours as he got comfortable in the spot—his arm brushing yours.

The first thing you noticed was how warm he was—as if his body was a personal heater. But that was pushed out of your mind, replaced by the second thing. He looked at you clearly, hair falling onto his forehead slightly until you finally saw it. The actual color of his eyes. Crimson irises caught you in their hold, keeping you until he was satisfied—drinking you in, he trailed his gaze over the entirety of your body.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face, body unconsciously leaning in.

You inhaled sharply, watching as his eyes lit up at your reaction to his proximity, his hand sliding closer until his fingers brushed against your wrist. Suddenly your shitty day was but a mere memory in the back of your mind. Entirely forgotten in favor of him. He was so large you swore he blocked everything else, filling your eyesight with nothing else but his frame. The breadth of his shoulders, the length of his torso and how he had to hunch over slightly to get close to you.

“What’s your name?” you inquired finally, your words breathy and dazed.

He grinned, hand curving around your wrist and pulling your hand towards him. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Leaning in so close until you felt his chest brush your shoulder, his lips met your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Miguel,” he breathed, smiling at the way you practically melted into him.

For a brief moment you forgot you were sitting in the middle of a bar, people surrounding the two of you. When in fact it felt like nothing remained except you and him and the song playing behind you. Your exhale was shaky, representing the way you felt on the inside. As if he’d pulled you apart with a single word, his body heat affecting your brain—turning it to mush.

“Miguel…” Your hand curved around the front of his jacket, eyes meeting his as he moved, brushing his lips across your cheek.

“Hm?”

Something heady built in your chest, solidifying the truth you knew the second you started talking to him. You wouldn’t be leaving this bar alone. You simply hoped he was on the same page as you, but the way he hooked his arm around your waist, thighs bracketing your frame told you everything you needed to know. He was not only on the same page; he was flipping forward, reading a future that had yet to occur.

You almost wanted to ask him if he liked what he saw. If—by some odd chance—there was something more than this fiery electricity between the two of you.

“You still want that drink bebita?”

Words evaded you the longer he sat there, filling the space with nothing but him. How he smelled, how he sounded, fuck even the way his lips felt dragging against your skin as he spoke. You wanted to ask where he came from. How you’d never seen him in this bar before—your life now altered because of something so small. Simply a conversation. Yet now you couldn’t see yourself ending the night without him.

“No,” you sighed, shifting until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. “You?”

He shook his head.

“I…” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I don’t usually do this.”

Grinning, he raised your chin slightly with his knuckle, eyes catching you once more in their web, snaring you in a trap so saccharine you could taste it on your tongue. “Your pace.”

And with two simple words you were his. Captured happily in something you never wanted to be rid of. You smiled, your other hand sliding up into his hair, and finally the weight of your day lifted entirely off your shoulders. The question of whether or not he wanted to kiss you was on the tip of your tongue, but like before…he was miles ahead of you. With a small grin, he tipped your face towards his, catching your lips in a kiss you felt down to your fingertips.

He didn’t kiss you gently, languidly taking his time as if you were both here until the sun went up. No, that was nothing like what you expected. He devoured you. Stole every gasp, sound, and sigh you could have let out; his hand holding you exactly where he wanted you. Miguel kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen. And you let him. You bent to his will with ease, giving into every touch.

Whining softly, you tugged sharply on his hair when his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The taste of his drink now seeping into your mouth. You didn’t even question letting him in, desperate to know what he tasted like—what his tongue felt like licking deeply into you. Shivers ran down your spine when his hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you closer until you sat on the very edge of the stool.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, pulling away and sliding his lips along your jaw.

“Oh…” Your breath was a sharp gasp when his fingers trailed down your throat, cupping it so quickly you could have sworn you imagined it. But the heat that spilled into your stomach told you otherwise.

His lips were heaven on your skin, nipping and licking until you were sure that certain spots would be tender tomorrow morning. You didn’t care. He could have sunk his teeth directly into your neck and you’d still ask for more. Somewhere in between talking and the tension, you lost any sense of worry. Those feelings went out the window the second he moved closer.

“I um—” Pushing at his chest, you reluctantly parted with the realization that you were still in public, and fucking against the bar would certainly make Ricky ban you for life. So he fell back, his lips swollen and spit slicked—pupils blown wide until the black began to bleed into the red. A swirl of brilliant color.

He smirked, taking in your disheveled appearance, all thanks to him. You had half a mind to drag him back to the bathroom, but the burning glare of Ricky was currently being seared into the side of your head. Without a doubt you knew it said: “You fuck in my bar you’re not coming back.” So you gathered whatever control you had over yourself and downed the remainder of your now tepid drink.

“My apartment is two blocks from here,” you began, exhaling a shaky breath as you finally took the leap for what you wanted. “We can be there in five minutes.”

Miguel nodded, yanking out his wallet and tossing down enough cash to cover not only his drinks, but yours as well. Which was your sign to grab your things. No words had to be said, because the intent was clear to the both of you. He was here to find the same relief you were—something to take his mind off of life for a little while.

Waving a quick goodbye towards Ricky, you followed Miguel out of the bar into the cool night air of the city. You were beneath the depths of the main part, where people didn’t necessarily travel to. But you’d grown up there. It remained a place where you still felt like you belonged. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Not when the intentions for the night were clear to both of you. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down and slipping your hand into his, clasping your fingers together as you walked down the street.

Such a small act of tenderness—barely noticeable to anyone walking past—but meant so much more.

“What brought you to El Nido?” you asked, leading him down the street where your apartment building resided. It wasn’t a drastic question, but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You were a scientist after all.

He shrugged, thumb running along your knuckles. “Needed a night out.”

“Let me guess…” You turned—walking backwards the best you could—regarding him with a suspicious expression. The small smile on his lips caused your heart to thump a little faster. “You’re getting fired tomorrow too?”

For the first time that night you heard him laugh. The sound, soft and low and by all means something you wanted to hear over and over again.

“No.” He took in a breath, his crimson eyes searching the dark streets for nothing in particular—the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. “I’m…trying to figure out something.”

“A problem?”

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“Well I think—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, his arm jerking you forward until you fell into his chest, wrapped tightly to him as a horn echoed loudly behind you. A car sped past, turning rapidly onto the street and disappearing around the corner—leaving the both of you in silence. Your breath came in quickly, eyes wide as fear ran streaked your body, turning you cold. And Miguel watched after the car, his eyes narrowed and body tensed—as if he was ready to take off after them.

That is until he felt your hands press against his chest softly, drawing his attention back to you.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, trying to calm the adrenaline that rushed through you.

There was no mistaking what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled you close; if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in so quickly. You wanted to ask him how he did it. How he knew the car was coming, but the words were trapped in the back of your throat. The shock had started to flood your system. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your jaw in a soothing motion that seemed to slow the panic filtering through your body. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it—the touch yet another reflex to slow the racing of your heart.

To bring you back down to Earth.

“Okay?” he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, watching your eyelids flutter for a moment as you met his gaze once more.

You nodded, lightly gripping his wrist simply for the sake of comfort. “I’m okay.”

The night was no doubt effectively altered. Not necessarily ruined, but you couldn’t go on the way you were before. No teasing words, no light conversation. Instead you walked in silence. His hand clasped in yours and guard up in case of something else happening until you reached your place.

You were surprised to find that you enjoyed the silence while you walked. As if Miguel offered you a sense of safety and comfort you never had before; your body responding differently than you expected. Sure, you were attracted to him, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him when it came to this. To needing safety in the midst of possible danger.

“This is me,” you said, pulling out your key from your pocket—the hallway light dim and nearly extinguished. You had to remember to speak to the building manager about it tomorrow.

He grinned slightly, waiting patiently for the door to swing open with a soft creak as you entered. While you wouldn't call your small and rather overpriced apartment perfect, it felt more like a home than even he expected it to be. A small kitchen gave way into a bigger living room. Your record player was placed on top of an aged wooden table—piles of books stacked haphazardly through the place.

Miguel eyed the various plants you’d managed to keep alive—each of them pointed towards the one large window on the opposite wall. A place where sunlight no doubt streamed in on early mornings.

He originally believed it would look modern; more like the outside city and world as a whole. Yet your home resembled something old. A place that stood still against the ravages of time—as if it were merely a museum and he was there to admire its antiques.

“I know it’s not much.” You shifted a small pile of clean clothes off the chair, moving it towards an empty laundry basket in the hallway.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he actually meant it. “Es acogedor.”

You could see the truth in his eyes, the flicker of something familiar coming through the crimson. As if he’d known a life like this once. You wanted to ask him. See if he’d tell you more than just his name—perhaps why his eyes were that color—but you knew tonight wasn’t about making this more than it was. In reality you both needed this. No strings, no commitment. Merely two people looking to release themselves from the heaviness of the day.

He turned, catching you staring blatantly at him. “You want me to make you a drink?”

The question threw you off and your expression must have given you away—his lips curling into a grin. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Heat curled low in your stomach, spreading with every step he took until the tips of his shoes met yours. He bent down, hand curling around the nape of your neck, fingers digging in slightly. Chills spread down your spine, goosebumps rising along your arms, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this. To remain oblivious to everything happening around you.

Everything except him.

He brought his lips closer, his breath washing across your cheek. “So ask me,” he breathed.

“Do you want me to—”

Cutting you off he dragged you closer, practically hauling you up to his chest as his lips covered yours. It sent your mind reeling, your hands digging into his hair as if on instinct. As if you knew exactly what he wanted. As if…you’d done this before. Something intoxicating built up in your body, turning your brain foggy when his hands slid down, cupping your ass and dragging a moan from your throat.

He met your sound with one of his own—a ragged grunt that came from low in his chest. The echo of it reverberating through your body. You knew what this was. What it wouldn’t become. Yet you couldn’t stop the longing in your heart—the yearning that refused to be locked away in your mind. You wondered what it would be like if this was more. Would it always feel this…electric?

Something pulled you together and you couldn’t determine what it was. Except at that moment you couldn’t even determine your own name.

His tongue swept in your mouth, shoving all your thoughts aside and bringing forth something new. A feeling so strong you found yourself grasping for him tighter, pulling him closer as he licked deeply into you—tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you gasped, yanking on the strands of his hair and earning another delicious grunt.

“Donde—”

“Down the hall.”

Stumbling back you felt his hand hitch your leg over his hip, nearly dragging you with him. Yet you could hardly complain. You were pretty sure that if he let you go you’d go falling to the ground from his touch alone. He moved your head where he wanted, lips slotting over yours and spit nearly trailing down your chin. A rush of slick poured into your panties, your nails scratching along his scalp as he nearly hit the wall, pressing you against it and hitching your other leg up.

“Fuck.”

You tried to tell him that you needed more, that you wanted him inside of you, but all that came out was a breathy moan. His hips grinded into yours, a soft moan being pressed to the shell of your ear, and that alone nudged you towards something earth-shattering.

His lips slid back along yours, hands grasping for any skin he could reach as you practically shoved your hips against his. The desperation practically seeped into the air—permeating your tongue with its cloying flavor. Words were exchanged for moans, tender moments now shifting into something quicker and faster. You wanted to feel him against you as fast as humanly possible, but Miguel was eager to remain here. Holding you up against the wall and kissing you until you ran out of oxygen.

“So I take it that’s a no on the drink?” you breathed, smiling at the small frustrated sound echoed in the back of his throat.

“Cállate,” he grunted, hiking you up and grinning at the yelp that was muffled into his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt him begin to move—heading towards your bedroom. The door remained open from earlier and you thanked yourself for making sure to keep the place tidy before leaving for work today. Before you could detach yourself from him and lead him to your bed, he turned and sat down. Taking you with him until you were sprawled on his lap.

“Tú eres hermoso,” you mumbled against his lips, watching in delight as his expression shifted. Surprise spreading across his chiseled features.

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied, a small grin playing on his lips.

You shrugged, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Guess we’re doing tonight backwards.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath your shirt until it was clear that he wanted it off. You complied with ease. Allowing him to drop the fabric to the floor as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the pretty lace of your bra. The crimson you’d come to admire darkened to something you’d call a burgundy—lust clouding his gaze. He wanted to take you apart. To see the inner workings of your body—your mind. Anything he could get his hands on. And you’d let him.

There was no doubt that Miguel had gotten beneath your skin in such a short amount of time. He filled your home with a feeling you hadn’t had before. Something tangible and real. Something you wanted to keep.

“Guapísima,” he murmured, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over the spot where your nipples poked through the fabric. A soft jolt rolled down your spine at the feeling.

Warmth clung to your chest, filling you to the brim with a sensation you’d only had once before in your life. Only this was different. This didn’t feel new or like you were just discovering it. No, this felt familiar. As if it had been hiding away in your heart, biding its time until you crossed his path—until you found one another. You wanted to wrap yourself in it, sink into its comfort, and you wondered if he felt it too.

The strange way all of this felt right.

Like coming home after being away for so long.

“Miguel,” you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your chest. The heat of his lips sticking to your already burning skin—his tongue trailing along the tops of your breasts.

He pulled down the fabric, taking your nipple into his mouth—practically lighting up on the inside when you cried out softly. Your hand dug into his hair, tugging on the strands as he scraped his teeth against you. Drawing out every sound he could find hidden in the depths of your chest. Your hips ground against him, clit pulsing with a need that would only be satiated by his touch.

For a moment you worried that he wouldn’t continue his path. That he’d ignore the way you were practically panting for him—the pleas falling from your lips with ease. But then his hand dipped beneath your waistband, fingers trailing along the edge of your panties. Your eyes nearly rolled back, hips canting up as you tried to get him to go further—to release you of this agony. But he held still. Entirely focused on driving you to the very brink of insanity; continuing the path with his teeth and tongue along your chest until the skin was tender.

“Impatient are we?” he mused, nose brushing against your jaw—the grin prominent in his voice.

You huffed, gripping tightly onto his hair and dragging his head up. “A tease are we?”

A moan ripped from his throat, his hips jolting up into yours at the slight sting of pain that bloomed in his head. His eyes were heavy, mouth parted as he took in a deep breath, and you could have sworn that you’d never see a prettier sight again. He looked at you as one would a statue in a museum. Tracing the curves and dips of your body with eyes that resembled the color of blood. Eyes that would never leave your mind again.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip, teeth protruding outwards slightly and you had half a mind to ask him about it. To question how exactly he had fangs, but your desire won out on the logical part of your mind. Leaning forward you licked your tongue along them, feeling how he shivered beneath your touch—how his body sang a tune you could match.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his hand pressing against your back and bringing you even closer. “I might bite.”

You smiled, sliding your palms beneath the collar of his shirt, the hot skin beneath warming your cold fingers instantly. “Sounds like a promise to me.”

“I’m not good with promises.” He let you pull his shirt up, raising his arms and helping where you couldn’t reach.

Even you couldn’t deny there was something so domestic about this. How he carefully shifted you so that you were now pressed into the mattress. His large frame looming over you—hair falling into his eyes as he looked down. It felt natural; the fluid movements were almost instinctive. Like your bodies knew what to do before you could even comprehend anything happening. You wanted to blame the alcohol—or hell perhaps it was the lust that was making you slightly lose it—but you saw it beneath the surface of his slightly guarded expression.

He felt it too.

Perhaps even more.

“Come here,” you breathed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips back where they belonged—where they felt the most right.

You felt his hands fall to the waistband of your pants, popping open the button and you were quick to raise your hips, helping him push them down. There was a swiftness to his movements. Like he knew what you wanted before you did—something telling him that you were ready to keep going. But that would be scientifically impossible. No one could predict things that way. Yet you couldn’t help but go back to the color of his eyes—the fangs that now scraped along your throat and down your shoulder.

He seemed to be a scientific marvel. Something unknown.

“Your tur—oh—” Your head fell back, lips falling open when his hand dipped even lower, fingers sliding into your soaked panties.

A groan echoed in the room, his lips finding yours again as he gathered the slick that pooled at your entrance and dragged it back to your clit. Setting a slow and maddening pace that had you grasping for his shoulders. Your nails pricked the skin so hard you knew there would be marks later. He pressed down, sparks scorching your body, and grinned at your reaction. How your eyes squeezed shut, leg kicking out and hips pushing into his hand.

“So wet for me.” He sunk one finger into you, tearing a whine from your throat.

“Mig—” The breath caught in your lungs. “I want—fuck—please…”

He shushed you gently, lips sliding against yours messily as he worked you open, slipping another finger into you with ease. “I know amorcito. I’ve gotta open you up for me.”

Something pulled at your stomach, tightening slowly as he continued to pump his fingers into you—the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. You knew you were dripping down his hand, that he was able to slip in a third finger as he went. But that didn’t mean he would stop. No Miguel had become hooked on the sounds coming from your lips—the moans that you didn’t try to stifle. He curled his fingers and struck against the spongy part of your walls that made you practically curl up into him.

A surprised cry fell from your lips, eyes flying open to see his lips curl into a small grin, before he doubled down. Shifting the angle, he made sure to press the pads of his fingers in the same spot each time, his thumb swiping along your clit. And you felt that building pressure shift. It clawed its way up your throat, settling in your chest as he murmured soft words of praise.

“Dámelo,” he breathed against your lips. “Give it to me bebita.”

As if your body was following his request, you shattered. A choked cry of his name was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue licking deeply into your mouth—fingers rapidly moving to prolong your pleasure. It was too much, yet not enough. The hunger—the desire—screamed in your chest, begging for him to keep going, for this to be more than just one night. Yet you couldn’t speak.

You gulped in air, legs shaking when the pleasure slowly began to fade into a slight pain. But Miguel wasn’t done. He was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your release—the shiny stickiness on his palm letting you know how wet you really were.

“Sabes deliciosa,” he murmured, pressing his tongue back into your mouth and sharing the taste of you.

Your hand fell to his pants, pulling at the buckle of his belt as he shifted—making room between your legs to lay over you. His hand pressing into the mattress above your head. The all encompassing feeling of him surrounded you; pressed you into the small haven he created with his body. Keeping you from the rest of the world as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Your belt is being difficult,” you huffed, head falling back against the pillow.

He laughed, opening it with ease and effectively earning a glare from you.

Miguel had to admit there was an ease to being around you. The weight he usually felt hanging atop his shoulders had been lifted—his mind suddenly clearer and mood better. He wanted to figure out why that was, but you were looking at him with a gaze that caused his heart to stutter. The urge to remain close to you seemed to overtake every other thought that ran through his mind. He rid himself of his pants, helping you pull down the lacy fabric—his lips sliding along your inner calf as he did so.

The light touch of your palm grasping on his hand brought his gaze back up—your small smirk rendering him speechless. Miguel had only been this way a few times in his life. All instances he could count on one hand, but this—you—were bringing out an emotion he would have rather kept locked away. Nervousness.

Leaning up on your elbows, you met him halfway, your arm going around his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. It was by all means…sweet. The passion remained, lingering beneath the surface and searing through your veins, but something else took over. A feeling he wanted to keep.

“Since we’re doing this backwards,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his and cupping his cheek.

Locking your leg around his hip, you used the leverage of his surprise to send him into the mattress, your hands falling to his chest as you perched yourself in his lap. Your lips formed around a smile when he grunted. The feeling of your bare pussy now spread along his cock—your slick dripping down and coating his length—was divine.

“Mierda.” His hands grasped your hips, grinding you forward a bit until the head of cock brushed your clit, ripping a gasp from your chest.

“F-fuck—” Your head fell forward, teeth digging into your lip.

“You’re gonna fuck me amorcito?” he asked, a flash of something dangerous echoing in his eyes. “Gonna ride me?”

You nodded, mouth falling open when he pressed against your entrance. Whatever comment you had died in the back of your throat when he began to sink into you—a slight sting of pain streaking up your spine as you took him slowly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to open you up, but still it was a stretch. A soft whisper of praise echoed in your ear, his thumb circling your clit to counteract the pain. Even still you dug your nails into his chest, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later on.

“You can take it,” he murmured, thumb curling around your chin. “You can take it like a good girl.”

A whine caught in your throat, your hips canting down with each small thrust until you were seated in his lap again. His cock filling you completely—the stuffed sensation nearly too much for you. Miguel leaned up, catching your lips in a soft kiss; giving you time to adjust. Yet you felt the sharp need of desire work its way through your body, begging for you to keep going, to take everything he would give you.

“How do you feel?” He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand cupping your ass.

“F-Full,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, allowing you to lift yourself off his cock slowly—slick coating him down to the coarse hair at his base.

The pace was lazy, barely even there, and he watched. His eyes tracked each movement you made, each time your hips shifted forward to change the angle. He burned the image of you fucking yourself on his cock into his brain—watching as you did exactly what you said you were going do. Ride him.

Scraping your nails down his stomach, you heard him groan, his hips thrusting up slightly and forcing a cry from your throat. You wanted more. Wanted to feel him fuck you into the mattress, but the familiar pressure was already forming again. Building in your stomach with each stunted thrust—the head of his cock brushing against the spot he’d found earlier.

“I’m—” Your head fell back, hips shifting forward to catch it perfectly—eyes squeezing shut. “‘M gonna—o-oh…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, guiding your hips and slamming you down onto him with a strength that made you sob, your hands grasping for any part of him you could reach. “Cum on my cock amorcito. Wanna see you—ah fuck—”

Your hips stuttered, eyes rolling back as the wave crashed over you, nearly pulling you under. A cry echoed in the room, your walls clamping down, and for a moment you felt nothing but bliss. You went blind with it, your body tipping forward into him as he continued to move you in short thrusts, dragging it on even more. Miguel grunted against your throat, sitting up fully and holding you close as you rode out your release, your body practically falling limp against him.

Eventually you felt yourself come back, your hands dragging through his hair as he placed kisses up and down your neck, arms tightening around you. Your legs barely worked, head still fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm. But the desire still remained, stroking the fire slowly until it once again began to seep through your system. Warming your body.

He was still hard, throbbing against your fluttering walls. That alone caused you to moan softly, your hips shifting down and lips pressing against his jaw.

“You didn’t finish,” you murmured, nails scraping against the back of his neck. The small goosebumps that appeared had a lazy smile curling on your lips.

He ached for that sweet release, wanted to flip you over and chase it, but he didn’t want to leave. At least not yet. There was something about taking his time with you that called to the part of him that had always wanted more. A part he’d crushed over and over again. Claiming it wasn’t necessary. There was no room in his life for that irritating emotion people referred to as love—no space in his heart.

Until a space began to slowly open up. He could barely find it, barely even see the small gash you’d made in the armor around his heart. But he’d discover it eventually.

“I want to see you cum,” you said softly, eyes glimmering with need.

“Bebita—”

Licking along his bottom lip you felt his cock twitch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass a little harder. “Want to feel it, Miguel. Need it.”

“Shit.” He felt the breath get punched from his lungs, your words sending a streak of heat down his spine. “Yeah? You want it that bad?”

You nodded, lifting yourself on shaky legs only to drop back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He spit out another broken curse, his head falling back briefly before you were tossed back—your body slamming against the mattress. You yelped, eyes going wide when he shifted over you, body covering yours in a way that had a haze settling in your mind. He grinned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he spread your thighs—hooking them over his forearms and nearly bending you in half.

“All you had to do was ask,” he purred, guiding himself back into your dripping pussy and sinking in with ease.

Gasping, you clawed at his shoulders when he hit so much deeper, the angle changing everything. You wanted to shout his name, to tell him how good it felt, but he’d already started to pull back, shoving himself into you with a strength that sent you up the bed. A ragged sound was pulled from your chest, eyes rolling back when he brushed against that spot so much easier—grinding against it in a way that had your body going numb with pleasure.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he muttered, curling over your body and sending your knees up near your head.

“O-Oh…god!”

“Cosita linda.” His body was tense, teeth baring as he continued to pound into you at a pace that built your release so quick it burned through you. “Pretty fucking thing. Letting me fuck you like this. Perfecta—”

You cried out, nails breaking the skin of his back—leaving deep marks. Tears streamed down your temples, spit falling down your chin when he leaned in to kiss you. He was everywhere. His scent permeated your senses, taste now permanently etched on your tongue, and yet that still wasn’t enough. There was something about him that made you want to crack open your heart and give it to him. Offer yourself up entirely in the hopes he’d accept. He surrounded you, filled your entire being with nothing but him, and you loved it.

Your body went taut, eyes flying open to see him staring down where you were connected, how his cock disappeared into your leaking pussy.

He smiled, hands digging into your hips so tight it sparked a delicious pain when you sobbed incoherently. “I can feel you.” His breath stuttered when your walls clamped down—brows pulling tight and mouth falling open in a silent shout. “That’s it. C’mon—” He gasped, fingers falling to your aching clit and circling it quickly. “Cum on my fucking cock. Soak me.”

This time the release wasn’t built steadily to give you time to prepare. You could barely breathe, your lungs screaming for some small amount of air. Yet your body seemed to be solely focused on one thing. A broken shout of his name left your lips, echoing in the room, combining sinfully with the sound of skin against skin and your slick. His thumb found your clit, pinching it between his fingers and something in you broke.

It slammed into you unexpectedly, dragging out a loud keening wail—white flashing behind your tightly closed eyes as it rushed through you. Flooded every sense you had until all you could comprehend was him chasing his own release. He fucked into you with short stunted thrusts until he fell forward, his lips colliding with yours—a ragged cry being pressed into your mouth.

He spurted into your already dripping pussy, filling you deliciously and sending another flicker of warmth down to the tips of your fingers. His chest heaved, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and you wanted to solidify the sight in your mind. Except the reality of what this was would eventually come crashing back down. Reminding you that he was not yours to have. That you were simply two passing stars in a tangled web of this universe, meant to part ways.

He let your legs fall back to the bed, slipping out of you with a hiss before he flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. His cum dripped down your inner thigh, smearing against the skin. But for now you let it happen. Content to remain right there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingers traced lightly along your spine, line after line until you realized what it was that he was drawing.

A web.

Or at least…that’s what it felt like.

“I don’t think I can move,” you mumbled, smiling into his skin when he laughed—the sound low and rough.

“That’s a good thing I hope,” he replied, glancing down at you—eyes tracing the curve of your hip and breast that pressed into his side.

You placed a kiss on his shoulder, hand splaying across his stomach. “Definitely.”

Silence enveloped the both of you like a comfortable blanket, filling the space with a soft feeling. It lulled you into a state of peace. Sleep nearly overtaking you. Yet you fought against it. Too busy taking in what he looked like—attempting to commit him to memory lest you never see him again. You wanted him burned into your brain, each memory tattooed into place permanently. But that’s not how life went.

This wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t yours.

So you settled against his body, soaking in the warmth he emanated and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. His breath came in slower, arm curling around you as he fell asleep gradually—his heart a steady thrum in his chest. An echo that allowed sleep to drag you beneath the surface, giving way to something peaceful.

The loud angry beep of your alarm clock jolted you awake, your eyes flying open and body aching as you sat up quickly. There was a mess of blankets on your floor, obviously kicked off in the middle of the night. It seemed that with the heat of the outside world and his body, you were content to sleep with a thin sheet wrapped around you. Yet where you expected to find clothes left haphazardly around the room, you found nothing.

Your clothes that had been stripped off now lay in a pile on your chair, shoes placed by the end of your bed. Last night was clear to you now. The all consuming bliss, the way he had felt buried inside of you—how he had touched you. And while you understood it was merely a one night stand. You couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into your chest.

The sight of him completely erased from your apartment put a damper on an otherwise good morning.

Sighing, you swung yourself into a sitting position at the end of your bed. A throbbing headache began to spread along your skull. No doubt the cause of waking up too fast. Either that or the alcohol had actually decided to give you a bitch of a hangover. You’d have to figure that out later. The reminder of what the day held for you flickered bright and blaring in your mind—killing whatever joy you had left in your chest.

“Fuck,” you spit, dropping your head in your hands as you finally settled on one conclusion. You were about to be fired.

You had about an hour before you had to rush out the door. Giving you enough time to find out how to stop the delicious ache in between your thighs from going away. The echo of the outside world drifted up through your somehow open window and you raised your eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been only a few hours ago.

Only to catch sight of a glass of water placed on your nightstand—a ripped piece of paper beneath it. You practically lunged for it, hands carefully sliding the paper out and eyes tracing the messy scribble of what you assumed to be his writing. The message was short. Direct. It could barely even be considered sweet, but you saw the tenderness through the short sentence—the care in his action of leaving you with something to remember him by.

I had a lot of fun.

So we can do things the right way next time.

— Miguel

Beneath the message a phone number was scrawled, as if he’d been hesitant to even put it there in the first place. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one to feel that strange connection. That lingering sensation of familiarity whenever you thought about him. There was something to uncover between you. Perhaps the something more that you were aching for last night.

You had no clue.

Yet that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and inputting the numbers carefully. Glancing back at each one to make sure that the message wouldn’t disappear before your very eyes. You typed his name at the top, smiling at the contact before sticking a web right beside it. The memory of what he’d traced along your skin coming back to you.

A thrill of joy went through your body, lips pulling up into a wide smile as you pressed the button to send a text. While it may have been too soon—perhaps a bit fast if you were looking at it properly—the warmth in your chest won the battle in the end.

How could something that felt this right be messed up with speed?

How could it go wrong?

#miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #my writing

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ferociouslycreativemystery · 1 year

Text

Okay quick observations from having just gone through and recut every cut in the trailer:

So Gabriel is (obviously) central to this whole thing. The light emanating from London on the globe at 00:27 is purple, and then there's the statue (see further down).

Crowley's lightning at 00:46 is striking Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death

The statue is gabriel (see 01:17, 2:27) - it's got his face, and right after our first shot of it we see a short clip of Gabriel opening his eyes which are suddenly violently purple. I'm guessing the statue is why the husbands decide to visit the graveyard?

Oh! So Crowley is revealing his identity to the rest of the angels in heaven's elevator at 1:20! Trouble?

Disposable demon is back!! Yayy :D

The migrating birds are both in the trailer at 1:24 and on the poster released today

The matchbox says "Out of his mouth go burning lamps and sparks of fire leap out." Job 41.19 (a line from the bible apparently)

Okay so the ground opens beneath Crowley and he falls down a hole in the graveyard scene at 1:28! I couldn't make that out while watching at full speed 😂

#good omens #maddie's go2 tag

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fluid-and-chaotic · 3 months

Note

what... is helldivers?

That's a damn good question, imma talk about Helldivers 2 simply bc I know more about the newer one

Essentially it is a game where in the far future, Super Earth is ran by Managed Democracy and is super patriotic etc etc

Then robots show up after we kicked their asses like 100 years ago, and the bugs that we use for fuel (called terminids) start mutating and breaking out and propagating across super earth planets.

So you play as a Helldiver. An "elite" soldier who's job it is to go down, complete objectives in the name of super earth with the support of Super Destroyers and trusty Eagle-01 providing fire support, to help liberate planets that the tyranny of the Automatons have taken from us.

There are major orders that are given like once a week that is a mission for the playerbase to do. It can span from "take X amount of planets in this sector", "help liberate a listening post deep in automaton territory", to one of the more recent ones, "destroy Meridia by turning it into a black hole"

It's a 4-player pve game and it has a lot of political satire and it's just a phenomenal game in general. I hope this answered a bit of your question, I'm not super good at summarizing stuff but I gave it my best shot lol

#helldivers 2 #helldivers ii #goat girl ramblings

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gobiin-z · 16 days

Text

WE’RE BACK WITH THE GHOSTS BABY WOOOOOOOOO

PART 2 HERE IT IS

This’ll be in 2 parts as well unfortunately, i need to figure out how to link posts, I’m not the best at this shit yet

WRITING UNDERNEATH

“Weapon”

June 29th - 01:45

Yacutinga Rainforest, Misiones Province, Argentina

???

“Please….tell me he’s safe….”

He ran. Fast. He didn’t know where he was going, he didn’t know when he would stop, he just ran. He could hear the patrol team behind him giving chase, their feet and his pounding against the foliage in a frantic rhythm.

Fear was etched onto him. His mask was making him work overtime in order to get a breath in, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

A shot rang out, and for a moment, the world went still. Everything slowed, as the bullet pierced his skull and ripped through it like a piece of paper.

His lifeless body dropped onto the floor, his head a leaky faucet of blood. The enemies approached, and the one in front knelt down and examined the hole in his head. They held up a thumbs up to their sniper, signalling that he was dead.

June 29th - 01:45

Federation Ground Array Ruins, Antofagasta, Chile

Commander Gabriel T. Rorke

The wall in front of him was lined with monitors. Each showed a different angle of the same mission, displaying his team’s power. He stood smug, leaning against a table not far in front, watching.

There was a knock on the door. A soldier walked in. He didn’t know who, he didn’t really care. It wasn’t until they started talking that he started paying attention.

“Sir? …Rorke?” The soldier murmured, almost cautiously.

“Lieutenant,” He acknowledged, his eyes glued to the screens, “Has our …friend, spoken yet?”

The soldier shifted nervously.

That’s what I came to talk to you about. They haven’t.”

“Shame.”

A silence followed afterwards. Rorke stared at the screens for a minute longer, deep in thought, before turning to the side so he could see the soldier out the corner of his eye.

“Come here for a second, will ya? Need to show ya somethin’.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the soldier inched closer until Rorke was a few feet in front of him. Rorke grabbed his shoulder and guided him to stand in front, facing the screens.

“Rewind 30 seconds and watch.” The soldier did as he was told, rewinding the footage and darting his eyes from one screen to another. Rorke saw his confusion and grabbed his jaw, tilting the soldier’s head to the view of the screen directly in front of them, relying on his hip to lean against the table.

“Watch.”

The screen showed what Rorke had been watching before, the mission his men were currently on. The camera’s attention was aimed towards the sniper within the group, perched high above the ground on a cliff far away. As the footage came closer to the sniper pulling the trigger, Rorke’s eyes practically lit up. He paused the camera footage directly after the shot fired.

“See, there, right there, you catch that?” Rorke smirked.

“..Yes, sir….the sniper done their job.”

“You’re missing the point! A couple years ago, they couldn’t do that!”

“A couple of years ago they weren’t with us, sir.”

“Details, Lieutenant, details. The point is, without him, we wouldn’t be here. We need him, he’s got skills no one else has. …Because of me.”

#call of duty #writing #call of duty ghosts #cod rorke #ghosts #ghosts 2

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magicinfinityverse · 5 months

Text

(13/15)

History of my Bill Sans Cipher AU

History of AU Under dimension merveilles

And Bill Sans Cipher

(13) People and characters in AU

Under Universe merveilles or

Gravity merveilles Tale

Basically, how many characters are there?

And who is there?

Grandpa Blackvoy darkness

Grandma Super giant black hole

Grandfather and grandmother are parents on father's side.

Grandpa Whitevoy bright white

Grandma Supernova big bang

Grandfather and grandmother are parents on mother's side.

1. Dad Euclid Gaster Cipher♂️

2. Mom Scalene Nebula Cipher♀️

3. Bill Sans Cipher♂️

4. Nebilly Sans Cipher♀️

5. Pyronica Grace Bie♀️

Grillby + Pyronica

6. 8 Ball Undaz♂️

Undyne + 8 Ball

7. Giffuni taton♀️

Mettaton + GIFfany

8. Keyhole Temmie♀️Kemmie♂️

Temmie + Keyhole

9. Cthulhu Kraken ♂️

Onion-shaped Squid + Cthulhu Demon

10. Hectorgon Maffle♂️

Muffet + Hectorgon

11. Alshifty 007♀️

AIphys + Shifty shape shifter

12. Kryptos Monster Kids♂️

Monster Kids + Kryptos

13. Nappaci-Fire ♂️

Napstablook + Paci-Fire

14. Mushroom Dummy Lava Lamp

or Mushroom Lava ♂️

Dummy + oil Lava Lamp

15. Titicier♀️

Mad mew mew + Cycloptopus

16. BumbleGlyde♂️

Glyde + Bumblebeast

17. 88 demon faces Galaxy meda

River Person ♂️

River Person + Monsters with 88 different faces

18. turtle What's His Face

or Hyster♂️

Grandpa turtle + Mr. What's His Face

19. Pook Pick♀️

chicken or bird or duck +

three headed bird

20. SirenNeiyr♀️

Shyren + mermaid

21. Mysterious Stone statue ♂️

Stone statue + Hiae Behind

22. Multi - BearLi ♂️

Uncle Bear in front of the

Grillby shop + Multi-Bear

23. Trickterween♂️

So Sorry + Summerween Trickter

24. Snowman holding an ax♂️

Snowman + Statue of man holding

an ax

25. Gomdogamy ♂️ Dogaressa♀️

Dogamy and Dogaressa + Gompers

26. Luni Red♀️

Rad + Luni

27. Axolotl Toriel♀️

Toriel + Axolotl

28. Zan thar Gyft ♂️

Gyftrot deer + Zan thar

29. Rumbit ♂️

Rabbit Selling ice cream + RUMBLE

30. A gang of amazing little angels♀️♂️

Whimsun + Little angel

31. mafia Asgore♂️

Asgore = mafia

32. Sharp teeth ♂️

giant tooth monster In Undertale

= teeth

33. Rubix Box♂️

Flowey = Amorphous Shape

34. Sher Blanc♂️ Sher Noir♀️

RG 01 and RG 02 = chess twins

35. Unicorns group♀️♂️

= Monster Under AU

36. Gnomes♀️♂️

= Monster Under AU

37. A terrifying one-armed skeleton monster ♂️

= Monster Under AU

38. A purple spider has an arm in its mouth ♂️

= Monster Under AU

39. eyesball bat ♀️♂️

= Monster Under AU

40. giant whale ♂️

= Monster Under AU

41. Gravity xx?xx water tower ♂️

= Monster Under AU

42. Mailbox Bizarre and

Devil Mailbox

= Monster Under AU

43. monster bell tower

= Monster Under AU

44. C-3 Lu human leather sofa

= Monster Under AU

45. Devil island head Can float ♂️

= Monster Under AU

46. Demon horde hand

= Monster Under AU

47. Soap bubble of distortion

= Monster Under AU

48. Strange tsunami waves

= Monster Under AU

living things Under dimension merveilles

living things Weirdmageddon

And there is also the creature of Weirdmageddon.

Nightmare Dimension Lots more

That makes you excited and excited with many mysterious characters.

Explain further This universe

do not have Asriel Flowey

and Papyrus Frisk Chara

#history of my bill sans cipher au #undertale au #sans au #my art #original art #my ocs #under dimension merveilles

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griefabyss69 · 7 months

Text

Writing Patterns!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Tagged by @jamiethegardener55!!! Thank you <3 <3 <3 (I'll go in order from oldest to newest and I'm putting anything in a series together! I'm also not including microfics because then most of these would be those <3)

Eddie's been telling himself for a whole week now that today is the day! [ so take a bite of me, just once - Steddie - E - 10K - LARP AU 04]

Eddie's nerves are shot, barely sparking like frayed wires and setting off little fires in his brain, system alarms yelling about an Imminent Meltdown. [ Intermission - Steddie - E - 7.7K - LARP AU 05]

The thing Eddie has going on with Steve is... not complicated when he puts it into words, mumbling to himself in the shower like he would after arguing with someone, trying to reason out where it grates at him – but it's messy, both one of the most deeply satisfying things he's ever had and one of the most frustrating. [ Run Me Through - Steddie - E - 9.5K ]

The darkness of his room at bedtime is pretty relaxing, especially during the deadest hours of morning when even the most obnoxious of the people in the area – mostly himself, at least on weeknights – have decided to finally turn off their music and shut the fuck up for the night. [ Constrained - Steddie - E - 10.1K - No Nut November Part 01 ]

Though he'd stayed away for the past couple of days, holed up by himself in his room with his guitar or a notebook – processing – his brain was still alive and well on Steve's bedroom floor. [ Restrained - Steddie - E - 22K - No Nut November Part 02 ]

You'd think that all of the near-death experiences and injuries and horrible secret knowledge they’d all had would make a group of people like, forthcoming about their feelings. [ Ample Fire Within - Steve & Robin - G - 1.7K ]

There are rays of golden sunshine washing Eddie's hair and skin in honey yellow, and all Steve can think about is getting him into his mouth somehow. [ All Things Will Pass - Steddie - E - 5.9K ]

If you asked anyone, Steve and Eddie are like total opposites, but Steve doesn’t really believe that these days – the more he thinks about him, the more he talks to him, the more he realizes he and Eddie are similar in so many ways. [ Transcending Dualities - Steddie - E - 10.4K ]

The bats had left echoes in his head, Eddie's fucking sure of it. There's something leftover inside of him from the other dimension, something evil from the tunnels and gates not too far from where he still lives. [ All You Gotta Do - Steddie - E - 1.8K ]

At first Eddie thinks, "I'm into him because I need a place to direct all of this." [ Champagne Buckshot - Steddie - E - 1.2K ]

I've learned that my first sentences are way too long a lot of the time LMAO but it's okay, I still like them

Tagging anyone who wants to do it!!! Feel free to @ me when you do <3

#chats from the abyss #fun things #griefabyss69 writing

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rebelbullet · 5 months

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love me

Timeline: 14th February 2024, Wednesday, 12:01 A.M. Location: Just outside an Arikun's residence in Bangkok. Mood: Confused, in great pain, shocked… Attire: See this post. With: @xcxmpvlscryx

Bullet couldn't move; it was as if he was under some strong spell, holding him down where he fell to the ground after something hit him. A ball of fire? Something sharp, like a knife... A tip of an arrow, that pierced his chest. There was no blood but a light that appeared lava like, poured out of a hole where his heart would've been. "What's happ- happening?!" He groaned out in pain, trying to make sense of what just happened. He just escaped the Arikun estate but now he's outside and unable to move or run any further. But what shocked him even more was the fact that he was found by none other than the vampire he had been hiding from all these months. He's going to die! His head screamed, watching a hand extend his way. He wanted to yell and get away but as the figure of the familiar vampire became clearer, the discomfort he felt subsided little by little. And what is this crazy thing he's witnessing?? He couldn't wrap his head around it - From where he was laying down on the ground the vampire appeared as if he was glowing in such bright aura and he felt himself drawn to it. Was he being hypnotize before he was snacked on?? "What - what do you want??" He finally was able to coherently say, left hand on his chest.

#ice001 #-_____-

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notknickers · 1 year

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kortac's new seasonal uniforms

with the change of season comes a change in tactical clothing necessities.

click below the cut for a preview of the kind of fashion that will become prevalent on base and field alike.

a disclaimer, before we begin: colonel könig kindly offered to model the new uniforms out of the kindness of his bottomless heart and his strong sense for duty and commitment.

he was not:

lured in a trap under false pretenses; (the colonel is a hard one to dupe... would be reason for pride if someone concocted a successful plan... but we wouldn't know about it, because NOBODY at kortac DID.)

injected with potent anesthetics against his will and without his informed consent according to his height and weight to ensure optimal duration; (access to said information about our contractors is available to kortac for safety reasons: no malicious use of said info is ever intended.)

stripped and redressed while unconscious multiple times; (no one at the base is suddenly feeling insecure about his manhood, alright? NO ONE!)

given a different cocktail of substances to ensure compliance; (and even if that happened - which it didn't - no harm would come of it, thanks to the up-to-date medical information kortac keeps of our contractors. i told you it was just for safety reasons...)

unwillingly or unlawfully detained until all outfits have been modeled for; (there is no known detention area at kortac's hqs.)

efficiently blackmailed to ensure no retaliation; (medical information is not all kortac keep abreast of.)

i repeat, quite emphatically, no colonel was harmed longterm. for security reasons, no further private details about a contractor shall be given.

01. the leather daddy

the perfect outfit to blend amongst queer subversives.

whether infiltrating and fomenting discord amongst the targets or removing key figures of queer liberation from circulation, this high-quality, black leather uniform will get you as close as you like... or don't...

according to our intel, they are excellent at sabotaging each other without the need for external interference, but kortac bought the uniforms, already, so here they are.

02. the children's hospital

red means love

tasked with protecting a client from further harm after they incurred injury, or with being the last thing your hospitalised target sees? look no further! a blend of reds to blend with architecture and personnel alike and no one will be able to tell you from the medical environment.

also, great for camouflaging blood stains.

03. fire in the hole!

the king is smo-oh-king! tsssssssssssss... ouch!

arsonist or sapper, the fiery uniform will let your comrades know it's time to mind their step when you're around or... kahboom!

friendly fire is such a tragedy...

04. grey mist

plain but lethal

luxurious, grey velvet to find your way to your target as quietly and inconspicuously as a cat. a must-have for the assassin-for-hire in the ranks.

05. latex

always play safe

medics! this semi-transparent latex uniform was thought especially for you! whether running routine tests on base soldiers or bringing succour in the midst of chaos, your patients will now have more than one reason to be happy to see you.

gloves not included.

06. retrofuture

oooohhhh! shiny!

stuck in a contract as bodyguard, playing nanny to some washed-up '90s pop/r&b star? daze and confuse paparazzos and stalkers alike with your dazzling silver outfit.

shine like the star you never could have otherwise been!

07. explosions in the night

get out the war veteran in you

life as a contractor can be challenging. it easily goes from adrenaline-filled operations where a single wrong move could spell the end, to long bouts on base, training and interacting with roughly the same people just like that!

so gather round your comrades, down a pint or ten and let the orange flames rising towards the cold, nightsky lead you all to collectively reminesce about all the chaos and destruction, whose consequences will probably outlive all of you, that you have wrought in your career.

(presence of one or more base psychologists advised.)

08. plasma core

for the professional crawler who likes to indulge his vanity

tired of you old, plain fatigues, after spending all that time studying escape routes and subterranean entrances of your target location? disappear in every tunnel, man-made or not, with this appropriately-hued uniform.

debris-filled and collapsed ruins, damp and dark caves, stinky sewers, the magma-filled centre of the earth itself... no hole in the ground will be match for you!

09. acid queen

ooohh... it glows!

looking to infiltrate techno clubs or desert raves? don't forget your signature outfit uniform, then!

10. höloqueen

regular

risqué

you're lost. exhausted. enemy troops are on your heels and their dogs have your scent. you and your team got separated, your rations won't last you the night and you're running our of ammo... most of all, nobody knows where you are and, probably never will.

does that sound frightening? does that sound familiar?

forget your flare gun and forget that scenario altogether. the höloqueen will get you back to your team members and safe home in no time.

kortac claims no responsibility for improper use that gets the operator spotted by enemy assets.

11. lace angel

matte

sheer

you didn't think kortac would think of everything but underclothes, did you?

hm, what's that? do you want to be found in your grandma's knickers when a high-ranking official takes a special interest in you, or your comrades surprise you en masse with a unanimous election to barracks bunny?

hm, didn't think so...

fraternisation? this isn't the military. this is a private company.

similar rates of abuse of power and sexual assault, you say?

...

oh, look! it seems the other soldiers on the base are exchanging war stories! why don't you join them? here, don't forget your complementary explosions in the night outfit!

thank you @kathy-ifnt for helping me adjust the proportions, your advices and resources and, most of all, listening to my whining ♥

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natlacentral · 6 months

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DALLAS LIU SEES YOUR TIKTOK THIRST-TRAP EDITS OF HIM

Dallas Liu may be playing the Zuko in Netflix’s live-action adaptation of Avatar: The Last Airbender, but you won’t catch him with the Fire Nation prince’s restrictive, gravity-defying ponytail in real life.

“I would never, ever out of my own personal choice rock the ponytail. It’s a haircut that not even cosplayers are willing to take on,” he tells NYLON. “I can gladly say that I would not recommend it to anyone.” But the 22-year-old actor does admit to what fans of the original animated series have known since the show debuted back in 2015: “The ponytail does look super badass on screen.”

Liu says he knew the challenge of bringing such a beloved character to life, but not only did he grow up watching the animated series and loving the Fire Nation prince for his fierce loyalty, but the show inspired him to start practicing martial arts. Ahead, Liu takes on the NYLON 19, revealing his thoughts on ghosts (or “spirits,” as he prefers to call them), TikTok thirst-trap edits of himself, and more.

1. WHAT’S YOUR ASTROLOGICAL SIGN (AND DO YOU BELIEVE IN IT)?

I am a Leo! Unfortunately, I don’t believe in it because of my experience meeting people with the same birthday, but us being different personality-wise.

2. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS (AND HAVE YOU EVER SEEN ONE)?

Yes, most definitely. Although I think the word “spirits” would be a better way to define it. I’ve never seen one — thank God — but I have felt uneasy in very old hotels or rooms that have a very long history.

3. WHO WOULD BE THE THREE HEADLINERS OF THE MUSIC FESTIVAL OF YOUR DREAMS?

Dominic Fike, Beach House, and Sade.

4. WHAT'S A BAD HABIT OF YOURS THAT YOU'VE BEEN MEANING TO FIX?

Honestly, I’m so bad at parking my car. Not that I’m bad at driving, but when it comes to parallel parking or even in a parking lot, I don’t put much thought into it.

5. WHAT WAS THE LAST INTERNET RABBIT HOLE YOU WENT DOWN?

I spend too many nights doom-scrolling on Instagram or TikTok, but it was probably a compilation of Avatar: The Last Airbender lore.

6. DESCRIBE YOUR WORST DATE IN THREE WORDS OR PHRASES.

Short, McDonald’s, Black Ice Car Freshener

7. WHAT WAS THE LAST DM YOU RECEIVED?

My friend sent me a TikTok thirst-trap edit of myself this morning which was interesting.

8. IF YOU COULD BE IN ANY MUSIC VIDEO, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

I would have to say either the music video for Bow Wow’s “Let Me Hold You” or Chris Brown’s “Yo (Excuse Me Miss)” just because the music videos in the ‘00s were just built differently.

9. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT, AND WHAT ARE YOUR MEMORIES OF IT?

Daniel Caesar performing in LA for his Case Study 01: Tour. It was my first one, so I remember everything about it. At the time, he was taking the music industry by storm and I was a major fan, so that concert was everything to me. I also was introduced to how much of a different experience listening to live music is.

10. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE AS A KID?

The Polar Express.

11. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE MEME/INTERNET JOKE AND WHY?

The personality that comes with wearing a fedora. It’s always funny to me and forever will be. Maybe one day I’d get to play a character that wears a fedora. Maybe Zuko.

12. WHAT'S YOUR GO-TO BREAKUP SONG?

“I Gotta Find Peace of Mind” by Lauryn Hill.

13. WHAT IS ONE THING EVERYONE SHOULD BUY THAT IS UNDER $10?

A sweet latte with oat milk from Blue Bottle. A must. Just try it. It’s so good. I could live off of it.

14. WHAT PIECE OF CLOTHING FROM HIGH SCHOOL DO YOU WISH YOU KEPT?

My vintage Green Day shirt. It had the perfect shade of a faded black and the fit of it was immaculate.

15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PAIR OF SHOES THAT YOU OWN, AND WHY?

Military boots because they look the coolest.

16. WHAT IS YOUR GO-TO SAD SONG?

Anything by Elliott Smith or Duster.

17. WHAT REALITY SHOW WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO APPEAR ON?

Love Island UK.

18. WHAT IS YOUR BEST BEAUTY TIP OR TRICK?

Korean skincare products.

19. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FAST-FOOD PLACE, AND WHAT’S YOUR ORDER?

Wingstop: four lemon pepper classic and four original hot classic, all flats. Lemon pepper seasoned fries cooked well done. A side of ranch and bleu cheese. Root beer.

#natla #atla #netflix avatar #netflix atla #avatar the last airbender #dallas liu #avatar netflix #atla netflix #nylon #interview #fun & games

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auxiliarydetective · 1 month

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AP-01: Project Apocalypse

ch. 04: Just In Time

AP-01 Masterlist

This fic is part of the Academy Projects series, a full rewrite of The Umbrella Academy with the addition of an original character, Kassandra Hargreeves. Throughout the story, you'll stumble across a few songs. This is supposed to make the fic feel as much like the show as possible, so I recommend you don't skip them.

Warnings: Canon-typical issues, death

Suddenly, a crash of thunder ended the song, lightning blitzing outside, the light an odd blue color, all electricity shutting off for a moment. Then, the pens on Kassandra’s desk flew from their position, getting stuck on the wall. Immediately, Kassandra tore open her door, just as Luther and Allison did the same.

“Courtyard,” Kassandra breathed, just before sprinting down the staircase.

Her heart was almost jumping out of her chest, her lungs about to cease working – and the worst part was: She didn’t know why! With siblings who summoned ghosts, threw knives in loops, or could bend reality through a simple “I heard a rumor”, a bunch of lightning and faulty electricity really shouldn’t be all that surprising. Or maybe Klaus had actually done it and dear Sir Reginald was giving a haunting, just to scold his children one last time, now that he had all of them in the same place again. But something told Kassandra it wasn’t any of those things. There was something else in the back of her brain, like a tiny creature running around and screaming. She barely noticed herself speeding up as well, to the point where she was sprinting in her heels, almost crashing into Diego and Vanya at the courtyard door.

With a firm push, Diego threw the door open and it slammed into the brick walls. He was the first to step out, letting out a quiet, concerned mutter at the sight. There was a crack in the sky above the courtyard, flickering blue light and a thunderous noise, the opening’s edge wavering, shrinking and expanding like bubbles of battery acid. Something about it seemed to pull Kassandra in, but Diego quickly put an end to her mindless motion, keeping her behind him with one arm.

“What is it?!” Vanya shouted against the noise.

“Don’t get too close,” Allison warned, grabbing Luther by the arm in concern.

“Yeah, no shit,” Diego scoffed.

The tension in the air was crushing and Kassandra wasn’t sure if it was something brought on by the crack or by her powers.

“Looks like some sort of temporal anomaly,” Luther guessed. “Either that or a miniature black hole, one of the two.”

“If it were a black hole, we wouldn’t be standing here,” Kassandra quipped through the confusion.

But then it hit her. Temporal anomaly. But… it couldn’t be, right? Still, the thought wouldn’t leave her mind. She barely even realized anything going on anymore, her eyes fixated on the crack in the sky. Klaus came running from behind and hurled a fire extinguisher at it in an attempt to do something about it… and it passed right through, to the white fence visible on the other side of the crack. So it was an anomaly. A portal. But it couldn’t be, right?

Suddenly, a white-hot pain shot into Kassandra’s mind, along with a bone-chilling scream. She yelped in pain and slapped her gloved hands over her ears, doubling over.

“Kass!” Vanya gasped, helplessly holding her sister’s arms.

Next to her, Kassandra could barely see Diego pulling out one of his knives. Fighting against the mental jackhammer in her skull and the tears in her eyes, she yanked at his arm, knowing that she couldn’t let him attack.

By now, there was another person at the other side of the portal, an old man, clearly trying to pass through, his screams going directly into Kassandra’s brain though no one else was able to hear them. There was something about him, something so familiar. Was he…? He was getting younger! … Was it really…?

Of course it was.

From the anomaly, a boy fell to the ground below, landing among the grass and leaves, causing the crack and the pain to disappear. Immediately, Kassandra dodged around Diego, ran towards the boy and fell to the ground next to him.

“Five,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Five lay motionless on the ground for a second, then he pushed himself up, grabbing the hands Kassandra offered to him purely out of instinct.

“Kass,” he croaked, and when he looked up into her eyes, Kassandra was overcome with feelings again. But she swallowed them down.

Carefully yet surely, she pulled her brother up to his feet as she got up, picking a leaf out of his raven-black hair. As soon as he had his bearings, he let her go and took a step back, scanning the faces of his siblings who had gathered around him. Then, his eyes wandered down his own body, across the suit he was wearing, which was now far too large for him.

“... Shit.”

“Everyone else sees little Number Five too, right?” Klaus mumbled, poking his brother in the arm, which gained him a smack on the hand.

“Yeah,” Kass just squeaked. She cleared her throat. “Visible and tangible.”

“I need a snack,” Five declared, pushing his way out of the sibling circle.

Kassandra was practically glued to his heels, and only a few seconds later, the entire set of Hargreeves kids was tailing behind Five like a bunch of confused ducklings.

“Do- Do you need an update,” Kassandra stammered, “or…?”

“I need the exact date,” Five replied.

“March 24th, 2019, Dad died three days ago.”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask. What’s up with you, by the way? You look like shit.”

“You gave me a bit of a scare.”

“Eh.”

The siblings all wandered into the kitchen, gathering around the table as Five threw a chopping board and butter knife onto its surface. Without pausing, he walked over to a shelf and pulled out a loaf of plain white bread. The siblings just watched. Klaus cross-legged on the table, Diego leaning against the table to his left and Allison standing to his right. Vanya and Luther, meanwhile, had pulled up chairs, and Kassandra was standing next to the cassette player on the drawer, a little to the side, her eyes still a little widened.

“So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?” Luther asked.

Five, however, stayed silent and just placed his two sandwich halves in front of him. Swiftly, Luther got up, standing a good three heads taller than his brother.

“It’s been 17 years.”

“It’s been a lot longer than that,” Five scoffed, before disappearing into blue light and reappearing behind Luther – on top of the counter, so he could reach the marshmallows.

“I haven’t missed that…”

“Where’d you go?” Diego grumbled.

“The future,” Five announced.

At his words, Kassandra felt a shift in the thoughts being sent to her brain. Up until now, it had been typical Five. Cynicism, nagging, a sweet batch of affection behind sour words. But now, it was sorrow, and a deep-ridden guilt gnawing at his thoughts. Still, she kept silent.

“It’s shit, by the way.”

“Called it!” Klaus remarked.

“I should’ve listened to the old man,” Five rambled, that odd new mix of feelings only getting stronger.

But on the outside, he didn’t let anything show, just continued making his sandwich. Pulled open the fridge, snatched the peanut butter, pushed it shut, but it didn’t fully close. So, Kassandra circled the table on tiptoes, careful not to interrupt Five’s train of thought.

“Y’know, jumping through space is one thing,” he continued, “jumping through time is a toss of the dice. But it’s not like he can say ‘I told you so’ now. - Nice dress,” he told Klaus.

“Oh, danke,” Klaus replied.

Kassandra pushed the fridge door shut and relocated to leaning against the counter. None of this made sense.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Vanya stammered. “How did you get back?”

“In the end I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.” Another trademark Five explanation.

“That makes no sense,” Diego mumbled.

“Well, it would, if you were smarter.”

Diego surged from his spot on the table, only to run into Luther’s outstretched arm.

“How long were you there?” The team’s leader asked.

“Forty-five years,” Five murmured. “Give or take.”

Silence. In defeat, both Diego and Luther sank back into their seats, and everyone was staring like their eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.

“So what are you saying?” Luther muttered. “You’re fifty-eight?!”

“No.” That typical ‘God, you’re so stupid’ smile. “My consciousness is 58. Apparently, my body is now 13 again.”

“Wait, how does that even work?” Vanya questioned.

“Delores kept saying the equations were off,” Five sighed. He wasn’t even listening, just shrugged and took a bite of his newly finished sandwich. “Bet she’s laughing now.”

“Delores?”

“Guess I missed the funeral. Heart failure, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Diego stated.

“No,” Luther said.

“Nice to see nothing’s changed,” Five remarked, then walked towards the broken wall exit.

“That’s it?” Allison called after him. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say? Circle of life.”

Silence again, then everyone let out a collective sigh.

“Well… That was interesting,” Luther commented.

Kassandra just pushed herself off the counter and puttered over to the table to clean up Five’s mess. Without a word, she screwed the lid back onto the peanut butter glass and put it back in the fridge, then dug through one of the drawers for a food clip.

“Hey, Kass, are you okay?” Vanya asked, getting up from her chair to get a better look at her.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Allison questioned. “You look a bit peaky.”

“Yeah, I’m just not used to mental assaults anymore,” Kassandra shrugged. She finally found a good bag clip and took a glance at her siblings as she walked back to the marshmallow bag. “You probably didn’t hear Five scream but I did. Going through that portal was painful even for him and the worst pain I’m used to getting projected on me these days is a bad breakup. Not even a broken bone.” With a deep breath, she made sure to look Vanya and Allison directly in the eyes. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It was just a bit of a shock.”

As she continued cleaning up the various sandwich ingredients, her siblings started leaving the room, off to be on their own again. In the end, it was Luther, surprisingly, who stayed last.

“Kassandra?”

“Hm?”

“Keep an eye on Five, alright?”

“I’ll listen in when I find the time.”

“Can’t you do it from here?”

“Out of practice.”

Luther let out a heavy sigh and Kassandra tried to ignore him. But when his voice softened, she couldn’t do it anymore.

“Is it really him?” he asked.

“It’s him,” she confirmed, looking up at him with gentle eyes. “I’d recognize those brain waves anywhere, he’s just… He’s been through a lot.”

They stood there in silence for a few seconds, then Kassandra turned on the faucet to rinse the butter knife, hoping that the rushing water would help drown out the voices in her mind.

“Alright, thanks,” Luther mumbled.

“No problem,” Kassandra muttered. As Luther left, she called after him: “If you need me, I’ll be down here. Making cucumber sandwiches.”

At sundown, it was time. The Umbrella Academy emerged from the door into the courtyard, Grace, Pogo and the children, all dressed in black, with umbrellas to match. Except even there the cohesion didn’t last, since Klaus was carrying a cutesy pink umbrella and Five had been forced to wear his uniform again, having nothing else to wear in his closet. Somewhat ironic.

“Did something happen?” Grace asked, looking at her children with worry in her eyes yet still trying to keep a hint of a smile.

“Dad died,” Allison said, furrowing her brows in confusion. “Remember?”

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

“Is Mom okay?”

“Yeah,” Diego declared. He had walked out into the pouring rain without an umbrella or any rain protection at all. Edgy. “Yeah, she’s fine. She just needs to rest. Y’know, recharge.”

Kassandra had switched out her cotton gloves for warmer leather ones and had propped up the collar on her coat, but the cold still seemed to seep through every pore. Her large hood was placed over her head beneath her umbrella, the latter really only there so she would have something to hold on to.

“Whenever you’re ready, dear boy,” Pogo said softly, his eyes on Luther.

The Academy’s Number One held their father’s urn in his hands, whereas Klaus was lighting a cigarette with his. Luther took the lid off the urn and emptied its contents, the ashes getting wet and just plopping onto the floor. Just the sight made Kassandra’s insides recoil, and she could tell at a glance that Klaus wasn’t thrilled about it either.

“Probably would have been better with some wind,” Luther mumbled in embarrassment.

“Does anyone wish to speak?” Pogo asked.

Kassandra debated it. She swore she did. There were things she wanted to get out, things she wanted the others to know, things she had been wondering about that she would like cleared up… but that didn’t mean she wanted to speak. The same appeared to be true for her siblings and all of them stayed silent.

“Very well,” Pogo sighed, settling for a speech of his own: “In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master… and my friend… and I shall miss him very much. He leaves behind a complicated legacy—”

“He was a monster,” Diego cut in, causing Klaus to giggle.

“Diego…” Kassandra muttered in a foreboding tone.

“He was a bad person and a worse father. The world’s better off without him.”

“Diego!” she hissed.

“My name is Number Two,” he corrected her. “You know why? Because our father couldn’t be bothered to give us actual names. I’m sure you remember. He had Mom do it.”

“Would anyone like something to eat?” Grace asked, like an automated response at the push of a button.

“No, it’s okay, Mom,” Vanya mumbled.

“Oh, okay.”

“Look, you wanna pay your respects?” Diego called as he stepped into the middle of the gathering, almost into the ashes that had once been their father. “Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was.”

“Diego, that’s enough,” Kassandra said in a voice cold and harsh as iron. “We talked about this: No fighting until after the funeral.”

“Well, I’m not fighting with you, am I?” he remarked.

“Dad was a complicated man that I admit I’ll never understand,” she claimed, stringing words together fast so she couldn’t be interrupted. “But he was our father. He brought us together and, if anything, I’m thankful for that.”

“And what are we, huh? A trainwreck!”

“You should stop talking now,” Luther cut in, but for Kassandra, it was already too late.

She turned around on her heels and left, headed straight for the exit with a stone-cold face. Every cell in her body felt like it was freezing, her chest burning with a cold rage, her heart feeling like its shards were vibrating and coming apart. That wasn’t all they were, right? A trainwreck?

General Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @bravelittleflower @box-of-bats

Academy Projects Taglist: @therantsofawriterrr @come-along-pond @the-wyvern-institute @cherrybombgigi

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua oc #oc: kassandra hargreeves #fanfiction #fic: project apocalypse #fic: the academy projects

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