#and 'let us know if you want to be removed from the screening register!'

[wild-at-mind]

Maybe I will get top surgery purely to avoid dealing with mammogram appointments in whatever state the NHS is in by the time I reach the age to get them!!

[mindless-spirallover]

You don't know how long you've been here. A day, three, a week? The screens haven't shut off. There's so many spirals, so many screens, you're surrounded by them. At first they changed, flickering through different spirals. At least they finally stopped on an interesting one.

You didn't know that this was deliberate. We had stopped on one that had your full attention. One that would brainwash your silly little mind.

The sounds had started a little while ago. Time had lost meaning, so you couldn't recall exactly when. It was getting harder and harder to recall anything, to be honest. It was faint music, but you were always straining to hear the whispering playing in the background.

The walls open up, although you barely register it. You're completely focused on the pretty spiral, aren't you? Good job, that's exactly what we want. Out from the walls comes a toy. What kind doesn't matter, what matters is the sheer pleasure you start to feel. Your legs are being held open by the chair, and that toy is removing any resistance or thoughts other than a growing need to cum. Doesn't it feel good?

You finally start to hear the whispering as words as your head gets so wonderfully fuzzy, but less as conversation and more as orders you will obey. You're a toy. You're a sex doll. You exist to serve. You are dumb. You are a perfect sex slave. We are so proud of you. You love brainwashing. You respond to it so well.

We might let you cum if you finish the brainwashing introduction. How does that sound, dummy? You like that? We knew you would.

All you have to do is give up that last little bit of resistance. Those last few thoughts you think are memories. Your ability to think for yourself in general.

Good job. What a good brainless slut. Our perfect brainwashed toy.

You've been assigned a number. You don't know it, not consciously of course. It's not important to you. You will move when you're called by it, but there's barely anything left in that pretty little head of yours.

We're so close to finishing up the first stage. You can feel yourself getting close, can't you? You're going to go through these doors and we're going to make you one of our dolls officially. The last stage of your brainwashing is where we fill that empty head of yours with what we want. And you like that. Then we do whatever we want with you.

Say you belong to us. You belong to the HIVE Corporation.

Well done. You've completed stage one. The chair has released you now, so you can move towards the Dollhouse. Oh, you're waiting for that command.

Be a good toy and cum.

[threadandlace]

helping hand- repost

Pairing: Danny Wagner x female reader

Summary: A performance doesn't go quite as planned, leaving Danny rather pissed off

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: ☆ smut- NSFW, 18+ content, Minors DNI

The door to the green room slammed open, jolting you out of your trance. You had been watching the performance on the screen attached to the wall, absolutely captivated. You turned to see Josh walk in first, his face twisted up. Your bright smile dropped instantly as you strided over to him. He was off-balance and slightly wobbly, so you took a hold of his shoulders to steady him. 

“What’s wrong? Josh, talk to me,” you said, worry etched on your face. His hand lifted to his ear, bumping the in-ear monitors that were draped from his shoulders. You quickly removed them, turning to set them on the side table beside you. Josh’s eyes were starting to fill with tears as he pushed gently past you to take a seat on the couch. 

You were worried- was he hurt? Upset? Exhausted? Moved beyond words? Jake came trailing in behind him and gave you a glance as he removed his jacket, draping it over the back of the couch. Jake took a seat next to Josh and pulled him into his side protectively. You let them have their moment as you turned to look down the hall for the other two band members. 

You could feel Danny’s energy before you saw him. He strode down the hall, pulling at the cape attached to his shirt. “Motherfuckers,” Danny spat as he entered the room. Josh and Jake looked up at him, Josh taking in a deep, rattling breath. Danny was still wrestling with his shirt, so you laid a gentle hand on his back before helping him tug the fabric over his head. He slung it onto the floor, striding over to kneel in front of Josh.

“Josh, you were perfect. Fuck those schmoozers out there, we don’t need their dead energy anyways,” Danny said as he rested a hand on Josh’s knee. Jake was scrolling through his phone, still resting a protective arm around Josh’s shoulders. Danny straightened. “What’s the verdict online, Jake? Do we even want to know?” Jake shook his head, setting his phone down on the side table with a clatter. 

“Do I need to wrangle Samuel or is he coming?” you asked, hoping to break the tension. Danny turned to face you, relaxing for a moment as he caught your eye, although it was a short-lived reprieve. “No, he wanted to watch Jimmy Kimmel talk about whatever. What even was that comment? He compared us to…” he paused, not remembering but clearly irritated by it. “Siegfried and Roy,” you said quietly. “Who the fuck even is that?” Josh asked quietly, still seemingly a million miles away. “A couple of magicians,” you added, hoping they didn’t delve into that more. “Tacky magicians with tacky clothes,” Danny said, “I told them I shouldn’t have worn this bullshit. It wasn’t right for this,” he said, gesturing to the metallic pants he had on. 

You walked over to Danny, placing a hand on his bare shoulder. He took a deep breath before turning to face you, “What did you think? And be honest. Speak from a music lover’s point of view, not my girlfriend’s.” You were stunned- you were still getting used to being referred to as his girlfriend, especially in front of other people. Danny had always been more private, and even though you’d been dating for nearly four months, this was your first time at one of Greta Van Fleet’s performances. The fandom was still in the dark, and you both hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible. 

“I thought it was good. The crowd didn’t give y’all anything to work with. The sound was good though, the song choices were good,” you said, giving an honest opinion. “Josh, I know you don’t feel great and you were nervous, but you sounded crystal clear. The lower register really worked too. It was intimate and moving,” you added, giving him a short smile. 

Josh looked up at you, his face still showing his disappointment “I didn’t even give out my roses. I didn’t think anyone would want them.” This shattered your heart- such a sweet man who didn’t deserve to think such venomous thoughts. “That’s not true Josh- there were a TON of people who were screaming and cheering for y’all. I saw them! They were on the livestream!” you countered. “I saw them. It was hard to look past the front few rows though,” Josh replied. 

Sam walked into the room, “well! That was fun!” Danny turned to give him an icy stare, “you’re joking, right? That was a shit show. The crowd was dead.” Sam stopped, acknowledging the mood in the room for a second before continuing, “who cares? Did you guys see Jimmy Kimmel hug me? He’s got some zingers tonight.”

Danny turned sharply, moving to the other side of the room to rummage through his clothes. He kicked his metallic boots off and began ripping his pants down his legs. You sucked in a sharp breath- even when he was angry and moving hastily, you couldn’t help but admire him. 

“Y/n, can you help me find my shirt please?” Danny said, starting to pull on his jeans. You moved to his side, rummaging through the mess and producing his t-shirt, watching as he hastily put it on. You picked up the pieces of clothes he had thrown onto the floor, placing them back on hangers as he sat to pull his shoes on, lacing them quickly. The other three watched him, gazing from Danny back to you, unsure of what to say. 

You’d only seen Danny this mad once since you’d started dating- his usually quiet and laid back personality had been replaced with pure masculine rage. The group had been hanging out at a bar in a small town outside of Nashville. It was where the band went when they wanted to let loose, but not get noticed. You had been enjoying the evening and had gone up to the bar to order another round when a man approached you, slipping his hand down your shoulder before grabbing your ass. “I think not,” you said, giving him a hard shove. He stumbled back and you had grabbed your drinks when you suddenly felt Danny pressed up next to you. He towered over you and the creep, his voice growling slightly when he spoke. “Back off,” was all it took to send the slimeball scurrying. You watched the darkness and sharp edge in his eyes leave as he turned to face you, checking to make sure you were okay. 

You were brought back to the present when Danny stood up, taking your hand firmly, but not aggressively. “We are leaving,” he said, reaching to hand you your water bottle off of the counter behind you and slinging your purse and his book bag over his shoulder. “Danny, you guys can’t go yet, we need to be here for…” Jake started, looking from you to him nervously. “You guys can handle it. I’m over this,” Danny said, walking forward, pulling you behind him. “We will see you back at the hotel.”

“Fine, go fuck your rage out. Just don’t take it out too much on poor y/n,” Sam said sharply, clearly testing Danny. Danny turned and jabbed a finger into Sam’s bare chest, “shut your mouth Kiszka. Don’t push me more than you have today.” Sam stepped back, raising his hands in defeat. Danny pulled you behind him out the door and down the back hall.

“Ow, Danny, please slow down for a second,” you said, tripping over your feet as he borderline dragged you behind him. He paused and you took the moment to catch up, walking in front of him and turning to face him. “Just take a second with me. Are you sure you want to leave?” He paused, listening to you. “I love you so much, and you know that, but I really need you to back me up right now and get out of here with me,” he said. You nodded and you both started walking to the back entrance. You stopped again and Danny let out a breath, “what?” You hesitated, not wanting to push him more. “I just… there may be paparazzi or fans? They may see us leave together,” you pointed out. Danny contemplated this before continuing, “who cares. They see me leave pissed off with my hot girlfriend? There are worse things that could happen.” You nodded and you both continued weaving your way out of the venue. 

You made your way to the rental, both of you moving quickly so as not to be spotted by any bystanders. “Should I drive?” you asked. “I’m fine to drive,” he said, reaching out to start the car, “besides, are you really that good at driving stick?” You laughed, “better than you think.” He gave you a smirk as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and he put it into first. 

You watched him drive, effortlessly shifting gears. You admit- it was hot. The rage still etched on his face, the eyeliner from the performance slightly smudged, the way his hands curved over the gear shift and flipped it back and over as he drove down the streets of LA. He caught you staring at him, “what?” he asked, a bite in his tone. You pointed to a parking garage ahead on the right, “pull over.” He shook his head. “Danny,” you said, raising your voice slightly, “I said pull over.” He listened, following your instructions and parking in a back corner. “What?” he spat, pulling up the handbrake and turning in his seat to face you. “Fuck me. Right now,” you said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

He paused, his rational side taking over for a moment. “I’m too pissed off right now, I’m not myself,” he said, giving you a taste of his signature sweetness. You didn’t need that at the moment, as endearing as it was. “Daniel Wagner, I told you to fuck me and I mean it,” you said, reaching over to grab his face. That was all it took for him to lean in and kiss you hard, wrestling with his seatbelt. He grabbed you and pulled you over the console, positioning you in his lap. His hands wrapped around your shoulders, squeezing hard. You gasped, pushing the curls back from his face as you kissed him back. 

Both of you stayed like this for a minute, teeth and tongues thrashing as you both fought for dominance. You started to grind your hips on him and he groaned, flopping his head back into the headrest. You took the opportunity to lick along his throat, sucking on his Adam's apple. He reached up and wound his hands in your hair, forcing your head back. You let out a laugh as he bit along your jaw, leaving soft imprints in your flesh. 

You struggled to focus and complete the task of unbuttoning his pants with the adrenaline and lust coursing through your body. He reached to help, his large hands easily popping the fabric from around the button and wrestling the zipper down. You lifted yourself up as he pushed his pants down. His hand brushed against your soaking wet panties as he moved his hand back towards him. You shivered at the contact and he noticed. 

“Thank fuck for skirts and easy access,” he grumbled, sliding the waistband of your skirt up. He gripped you tightly, his thumbs digging into the divots on your hips. You knew he’d probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care. You reached down to pull his underwear down, your mouth watering at the sight of his cock, already leaking precum against his exposed stomach. You leaned forward as he slid his underwear down to his knees, waiting for him to lean back before you made deep eye contact. You searched his eyes for a moment before opening your mouth slightly, letting a trail of spit splatter onto his cock. He groaned and his pupils dilated at the sight. How you loved being a slut for this man.

You jerked him, starting slowly but quickening your pace. He pushed his left hand against the wet fabric clinging to your core. He stroked you through the cotton barrier, feeling your wetness on his middle finger as he played with you. He finally slid your panties to the side, circling your clit with his middle and ring fingers. You hissed, pressing down into his hand. “Impatient,” he whispered against your hair, sending shivers down your spine. 

“You ready for me?” he asked, taking his cock from you and pushing it forward, angled towards you. You nodded. “Words,” he spat. “Yes sir,” you replied. He grabbed your face, pressing his fingers into your jaw, forcing your mouth open. You complied and he spit into your mouth. You jolted at the feeling- it was a primal, filthy move. He’d never done this before, but it lit a fire in your body. “Fuck me right now,” you said breathlessly before you swallowed. 

Danny complied, pushing into you hard and deep. You both leaned back and moaned, enjoying the feeling of finally being connected. He wrapped his arms around your waist, helping you bounce on his cock at a quick pace. You moaned his name and he dropped his hands back to your hips, using them as leverage as he fucked you. Arching your back, you reached to grip the steering wheel behind you, needing something to hold tight to. You and Danny had fucked before but this was new- animalistic, raw, pure emotion and rage.

“Are you…” you started through gritted teeth as he fucked you deeper, “still pissed?” He let out a growl from deep in his chest, reaching up to wrap his hand around your throat. “Very,” was all he replied before squeezing tightly, disrupting the blood flow of your jugular veins. You gasped, your head suddenly going fuzzy as you struggled to stay coherent with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. You tapped his shoulder and he instantly let go, searching your face for a reaction. “You like when I choke you?” he asked with a smirk. “Oh, fuck yes,” was all you could get out before you were overtaken by an orgasm, the sudden rush of blood to your head allowing you an almost instant release as he continued to thrust into you, grinding his pelvis on your clit. 

You choked back a sob as you returned back to the present, reaching forward to grasp at Danny’s shirt. You had never cum harder than you just had. Something about this sex was so different, so hot. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to your ear, “you came so good baby,” he whispered before he sat back, “now it’s my turn.” You bounced on his cock hard, grinding your hips each time you landed as Danny buried his hands in your hips, guiding you. 

Danny started to get sloppy, a sure sign he was close. “Cum for me, cum so deep inside me,” you said in a hoarse whisper. That was all it took and he threw his head back, groaning as you felt him cum hard inside you. You watched him in awe- the same faces you saw on stage as he performed were, in fact, the ones he made when he came. You giggled at the sight and he snapped back to reality, bringing his face forward and catching your eyes. “What?” he said in a soft voice, “what’s so funny?” You were laughing deep belly laughs now. “Your performance face is the same,” you said through giggles. It took him a minute to put the pieces together before he chuckled. He thrust once more inside you and you gasped, your laughter stopping instantly. “Rich of you to laugh when I’m still inside of you,” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

You sat like that for a moment, just being together. The tenseness in his body had left and his face reflected the relaxed, carefree and calm person he typically was. Finally, Danny spoke. “I hope we have napkins or something in here. This IS a rental after all,” he said, giving you a shy smile. You both laughed and you dug into your purse, producing a pack of kleenex. He took them from you, “allow me,” he said, removing one and holding it under you as you slowly lifted yourself up. He hissed, but finished the task of wiping you clean. 

You pulled your panties back over and struggled to move back over the console. Danny turned and lifted you under the armpits, helping you move back into your seat. “Legs not working?” he asked as he wiped himself off, leaning forward to pull his pants back up. You watched him slide the zipper up and pull the cloth over the button, his fingers working nimbly. He glanced up at you, watching you watch him. “Please tell me you’re not ready for another round yet. I need something to eat first,” he said with a chuckle. You bit your lip, sitting back in your seat. “Depends. Are you still angry?” you asked, shamelessly flirting. “I definitely feel better,” he said, turning to buckle his seatbelt. He reached his hand out and gave your thigh a squeeze. “I think I should get pissed off more often,” he said, giving you his signature eyebrow wiggle. “I agree,” you said as he pushed the gear shift over and back into reverse, pulling out of the spot.

_____________________________________________

Let me know who you want a repost for next! I'm thinking Jake perhaps...

[miniwrites1]

In the Dark - Dark!Sebastian Sallow (Part 3)

Links to Part 1, Part 2 (If you want to read it, please read the warnings, the story should still make sense if you don't)

Word Count - 2.7k

Warnings - Description of violence, description of injury, blood.

Your eyelids fluttered open slowly, blinking to adjust to the light pouring into the room. As your vision focussed, you tried to register where you were. Stacks of old books and parchment covered the walls, animated paintings staring at you, casting you looks of sympathy. Your brow furrowed, unable to understand why.

You felt a fiery pain in your back and wrists. What had happened to you? You looked down at yourself, your clothes still intact, almost flawless.

“It mustn’t have been a duel.” You thought to yourself, knowing that you’d look more dishevelled than you did now. You tried to remember what happened, but you were unable to pick out any memory that stood out to you. You sighed softly, glancing up at the painting in front of you. An elegant woman, wearing a white dress who had tears falling down her cheeks.

“Do you know what happened to me?” You asked, feeling like you were losing your mind trying to speak to a painting. The woman in white nodded. You glanced down at the floor, spotting a few specks of red staining. Blood.

“What happened to me?” You yelled at the woman in the painting, she shook her head meekly, using her hand to try and signal something. You tried to focus on the hand movements, finally realising that the woman was unable to speak. You sighed, grimacing as the pain in your back became more intense, it seemed like a trip to the infirmary was in order.

As you left the room of requirement and began the long walk to the hospital wing, a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. The circumstances to you waking up in the room of requirement was concerning enough, coupled with the pain that you felt you couldn’t help but feel that something terrible had happened.

You’d only been to the hospital wing once before, to visit Natty after her brush with Harlow but it struck you as a very intimidating place, not one that you’d ever planned on visiting yourself. You gently pushed the door open, the movement of your arm causing pain to ripple through your back and wrists again. You winced as you stepped through the door, the hospital matron, Madam Blainey looked over at the sound of the door opening and spotted you as you entered. A concerned look graced her features.

“Are you alright dear?” She called out to you, at the bedside of another student. You grimaced again as you lowered your arm.

“I’m not sure Madam Blainey.” You responded softly. She tilted her head slightly, trying to assess you for any obvious injuries before walking towards you, meeting you in the middle of the room.

“You look to be in pain dear, what’s causing it?” She asked calmly, sympathy lacing her voice. You looked up at her, she seemed to tower over you as you stood before her.

“My back and wrists.” You replied in a small voice. Madam Blainey gave you a small, reassuring smile, guiding you over to an empty bed. She instructed you to remove your outer robes and your blouse as she pulled the screen around to ensure your privacy. You turned your back to her as you pulled your blouse over your head.

“Oh my.” Madam Blainey let out a gasp at the sight in front of her, cuts and grazes covered your back, coupled with finger shaped bruises littering your wrists. “Have you been in a fight dear?” She asked, unsure of where your injuries could have originated from.

“I don’t remember.” You replied simply, the sinking feeling in your stomach growing larger by the second.

“Please bear with me a moment.” She spoke softly, leaving your bedside quickly. You could hear her footsteps retreating further away. You heard the swoosh of floo powder, assuming that Madam Blainey needed to retrieve something from another part of the castle. Moments later, you heard another swoosh, however this time there were multiple sets of footsteps.

“Professor Weasley, Professor Sharp, I’m incredibly concerned.” You heard Madam Blainey whisper from behind the screen. You remained sat on the side of the hospital bed, legs dangling from the side.

“Please prepare yourselves for what you’re about to see.” Madam Blainey whispered again, ushering the Professors behind the screen. You heard an audible gasp from Professor Weasley. Your heart was racing, hands folded in your lap, squeezing your thumbs in your fists.

“(Y/N), please put this on.” Madam Blainey placed a gown onto the bed next to you. You obliged, trying to place the gown over your head without causing yourself too much pain. Even with your best efforts, you grimaced again, a small shudder running down your spine from the pain of the fabric touching your body.

“Can you turn around please and show the Professors your wrists?” Madam Blainey asked softly, you obliged, slowly placing your feet down and standing before turning to face the Professors with your wrists out. The finger shaped marks were obvious. Professor Weasley clasped a hand over her mouth, Professor Sharp stood behind her, a look of shock morphing his features.

“Who did this to you?” Professor Sharp asked softly, though you could tell that his shock had turned to anger. You went to speak, the words becoming caught in your throat.

“She doesn’t know Professor.” Madam Blainey answered for you, for that you were grateful as you felt tears brimming at your eyes. You wanted answers as much as everyone else.

“What is the last thing that you remember?” Professor Weasley asked, you tried to remember anything about what had brought you to the hospital wing but your memory was failing you.

“I don’t remember anything, the only thing I remember is waking up in the room of requirement.” You spoke softly. Why couldn’t you remember anything. Professor Sharp’s eyebrows furrowed, deep lines forming on his forehead.

“It’s either trauma induced memory loss or she’s been obliviated.” He spoke solemnly, his features softening at the thought of someone doing this to a student.

“What?” You asked incredulously. Trauma. Obliviated.

“That couldn’t be right.” You thought to yourself, it felt like your heart was ready to burst out of your chest.

“We must investigate this at once.” Professor Weasley declared, casting you another sympathetic look. You began to feel your knees give way, quickly gripping the hospital bed for support. Madam Blainey rushed to your side, helping you to climb onto the bed.

“It will be alright dear.” She spoke softly, trying to comfort you as a tear rolled down your cheek. What had happened to you?

One day later

Ominis sat alone in the Great Hall, he’d not seen you for a while. You hadn’t been at breakfast for two days which was unlike you, you’d never miss breakfast. He sighed to himself, pushing himself up from his seat and pulling out his wand to help guide him out of the Great Hall.

Slowly he walked back towards the Slytherin common room, pausing a few steps away from the last staircase he needed to take as he overheard a conversation between two fifth years.

“Have you heard about (Y/N)?” One whispered to the other. Ominis’ brows furrowed in confusion. “Heard what?” He thought to himself.

“She’s in the hospital wing, isn’t she?” The other replied in the same whispered tone. Ominis’ head snapped round in the direction of the gossiping students. They noticed him immediately, quickly dispersing in opposite directions. Ominis sighed, what had happened to you?

He turned on his heel and began walking towards the hospital wing, nerves began to set in, unsure as to what he would find. As he was approaching the door, his wand alerted him to a figure pacing ahead of him.

“Mr Gaunt.” It was Professor Sharp, a look of confusion and worry flickered across Ominis’ face.

“Professor, may I pass you?” Ominis asked, it was as if the Professor was blocking the door.

“I take it you’re here to see Miss (Y/L/N).” Professor Sharp spoke softly. Ominis nodded quickly.

“She’s been asking to see you.” Professor Sharp mentioned, pushing the door open for Ominis to enter the hospital wing. Another look of confusion graced Ominis’ features, but he nodded in thanks as he passed Professor Sharp and entered the wing. Using his wand to navigate, he quickly found your bed, he heard a relieved sigh escape your lips.

“It’s good to see you Ominis.” You spoke softly, a small smile gracing your lips at seeing a friendly face. Ominis smiled sadly at you, sitting down in the chair that was placed next to your bed.

“What happened (Y/N)?” He asked, placing his hands in his lap. You pursed your lips slightly, you still had no memory of the events leading up to your hospital visit. You tried to explain to Ominis that you were unsure about what had happened other than that you’d woken up in the room of requirement.

“Professor Sharp mentioned that it may be trauma induced memory loss or I’ve been obliviated. He’s not sure.” You mentioned sadly. Ominis’ brows furrowed, remembering what he’d heard Sebastian whisper in the dormitory.

“Please don’t remember.”

Ominis’ eyes widened. His mouth slightly agape. He stood up sharply.

“I need to go; I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He spoke quickly as he turned his back, almost running towards the door.

“Ominis, wait!” You called out after him, but he paid no mind to your plea’s for him to wait. He almost crashed through the door, narrowly avoiding Professor Sharp who was stood on the other side.

“Mr Gaunt?” The professor called after him, but before he could do anything Ominis was gone, running through the castle. He knew exactly where to go, having been in the same Transfiguration class as Sebastian for the past year, he knew the lesson would be starting within the next ten minutes, he needed to get to him.

Ominis ran until he reached the Transfiguration courtyard, pulling out his wand to help him see. He could make out multiple figures dotted around the courtyard, his frustration starting to build when he couldn’t pick out Sebastian.

“Where are you?” He thought to himself, continuing to scan the courtyard for any sign of his ex-best friend. Finally, he spotted a person walking alone hurriedly with their head down.

“Sebastian!” Ominis yelled across the courtyard, rage tainting his voice, immediately drawing the attention of everyone, as well as the singular figure crossing the courtyard. Ominis started to move, his pace picking up as he raced across the courtyard to block the nearest exit that Sebastian could take.

“Move Ominis.” Sebastian growled, pulling out his wand in a threatening manner. Ominis could feel the eyes of the students in the courtyard watching their inevitable fight unfold.

“No.” He stood firmly, pressing his wand into Sebastian’s chest, pushing him back with the force of the jab. “I know what you’ve done Sebastian.” Ominis spoke in a low, menacing tone. His anger rising fit every step he took and every jab of his wand into Sebastian’s chest,

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sebastian hissed, trying to shove his way past Ominis. Ominis planted his feet, jabbing his wand harder into Sebastian.

“You erased (Y/N)’s memories. I heard you in the dorm Sebastian. ‘Please don’t remember.’” Ominis sneered at him, loud enough for the other students to hear, the anger only grew more. He was ready to hurt Sebastian for what he’d done to you.

“I had to keep her safe.” Sebastian’s eyes flickered with rage. “From you.”

Sebastian stepped back, creating a gap between himself and Ominis, quickly casting depulso. Ominis blocked the spell easily, casting a litany of spells, one of which struck Sebastian, sending him flying backwards.

“Someone go and find a Professor!” Ominis yelled at the gathered students, he had a feeling that this fight was about to get nasty. Sebastian pushed himself off the ground, planting his feet and cast a barrage of spells back at Ominis. Ominis managed to dodge each one. Feeling slightly out of breath, Ominis shot more spells, continuing the back and forth of their duel. It seemed to last an age, multi coloured sparks flying out of the ends of their wands.

“Just stop this, Sebastian!” Ominis called out, trying to end the duel. As the duel dragged on, Ominis realised that it was a pointless task. Sebastian would never change; he’d come to accept that long ago. He just needed to hold him off long enough for a Professor to arrive.

“You think I want to do this?” Sebastian yelled back. “You think I wanted to hurt (Y/N)? I wanted to save her, but she made it too hard.” Ominis’ brow furrowed when he blocked Sebastian’s next set of spells. Sebastian could tell that he’d caught Ominis off guard with his last statement. He’d broken Ominis out of his focus in the duel.

“Crucio!” Sebastian yelled, striking Ominis with the curse. He let out an ear-piercing scream as he crumpled to the ground, hitting the floor hard. Gasps echoed out from the other students still present in the courtyard.

“You were right about me Ominis. No one can help me. I cursed (Y/N), Imperio if you must know and it was wonderful. Nothing was too much trouble until she broke through it. Then I had to obliviate her memories.” Sebastian explained in a condescending voice. Ominis writhed on the floor, pain coursing through his body from the curse. He felt like he could barely breathe.

“How could you?” Ominis wheezed out. Sebastian smiled menacingly, crouching down to Ominis’ level, holding his wand an arm’s length away from Ominis’ body. Ominis squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the impact of the spell that he knew was coming.

“Because I love her.” Sebastian breathed out, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Avada-.”

“Petrificus totalus!” Someone cried from the middle of the crowd, striking Sebastian with the spell. His body seized before he could cast the killing curse, crashing to the ground next to where Ominis laid.

Professor Weasley pushed her way through the crowd, followed closely by Professor Sharp and Headmaster Black. The remaining students watching the duel immediately dispersed, scattering from the courtyard. The Professors stared at the scene in front of them, realising how close Ominis had been to dying before they could reach him.

“Professor Black, take Mr Sallow to my office, take his wand and wait with him.” Headmaster Black commanded. “He does not leave.” Professor Sharp nodded, casting wingardium leviosa and levitating Sebastian away. Professor Weasley knelt down next to Ominis, his breathing levelled out as his pain faded.

“Are you alright Mr Gaunt?” Professor Weasley asked kindly, concern threading her tone. Ominis nodded as he pushed himself up onto his forearms, his body felt heavy after taking Sebastian’s curse but he also felt relieved.

Ominis pushed himself slowly off of the floor, trying to find his balance. He felt his wand be placed in his hand, immediately helping him assess his surroundings. A hand rested on his shoulder gently, it startled him slightly.

“Mr Gaunt, we should get you to the hospital wing.” Professor Weasley spoke softly, guiding Ominis away from the courtyard, escorting him to the hospital wing. His emotions were heavy, on one hand he felt relieved, you were safe and Sebastian wouldn’t be able to hurt you again. On the other hand, he mourned the loss of the boy that he once knew, the kind boy he’d been friends with until he’d had a taste of dark magic and allowed it to infect him like a virus.

The outcome for Sebastian was grim, he was sent to Azkaban for a minimum of twelve years for the use of the Imperius and Cruciatus curses. His face was plastered across the front page of the Daily Prophet for days after his sentencing. Ominis tried to shield you from the prying eyes of other students as best he could, as the details from Sebastian’s treatment of you had been leaked.

But finally, Sebastian was gone and he wouldn’t be coming back. That meant that you were finally safe and free to heal in your own time.

A/N - This is the final part! Thank you for reading. Feel free to message me with any feedback :)

[chronicallyuniconic]

Do doctors exist simply to torment? What the fuck just happened😖

I cannot believe the fucking telephone appointment I've just had. It was setup a couple of weeks ago under "medication review" but didn't specify what medication they'd be reviewing. A simple medication review. I've done it 1000 times, usually with a pharmacist.

This time, a doctor/pharmacist/receptionist I don't know, I've never heard or seen before calls (even tho it's from the surgery number), "I'm ringing about your med review" I ask him to clarify which ones as I wasn't told. One of them is my migraine tablet(M), the other my asthma inhaler(A).

"How long have you been on M?" "You can't be on M anymore as they (are known to) impact your asthma" I explained I'd been on them for a long while and have not had any asthma problems because of them. I explained what does flare my asthma. Then he says "well if M are causing wheezing..." No I said, they don't cause wheezing, I've had no problems despite you saying they impact my asthma." He responds with, "How do you know its asthma, what if you DON'T have asthma?" is this guy taking the piss? I look at my phone to make sure I am actually speaking to the fucking surgery I'm registered with.

Like... I get inhalers every month, before covid I go to asthma clinic every year (because you have to), I had to have my tonsils removed as a child because they stopped me breathing & tonsilitis always made asthma flare. It's been there since childhood (thanks for the prenatal cigarettes mam). And all of a sudden my old ass is having to explain to what is basically a stranger on my phone, about my own asthma. This guy is sat there with my medical notes for fucks sake. I say to him "sorry are you actually questioning whether or not I have asthma something I've had my whole life?"

He goes back to his original point. "you can't have M anymore because of asthma" so I ask how to manage migraines without M. He offers another medication i can't take because they make you sleepy, and I already take meds that do that. If he'd looked...."oh they make you sleepy do they," talking to himself" well yes you would be quite zonked out so let's not do that one then"

He offers another medication used for "blood pressure." High, low? Who fucking knows? I told him about my BP problems for him to say "well let's see how you get on with it or give us a ring back" not even caring or failing to understand the frequency and severity of which I faint. Again, read my notes.

I'm waiting for a Neurology appointment I explain, as I have been having frequent seizures. "and what have they said about migraines?" IM WAITING FOR THE APPOINTMENT ASSHOLE. "oh yes, I see that here now, seizures, yes."

He goes back to asthma. I am just dying to get off the phone, I want this conversation to end. I am beyond livid. Multiple times he actually questioned diagnoses that are on his damn screen or didn't even bother to look at. He's prescribed something I didn't even hear the name of because I wanted to launch my phone, that I can "pick up" from reception. My guy, I am bed/housebound. Again, if he only read the notes.

Now I have to wait to see what this is, understand why and if what he was going on about with the M is correct. It feels weird to be suddenly told nah ya can't really be on this now, unless some rules have changed overnight and they're having to cover their tracks.

This guys behaviour and words caused all sorts of medical trauma to surface, that constant battle of not being believed, being second guessed, and this time it's about fucking asthma, you know my INABILITY to breathe. I must somehow be imagining it and not really need an inhaler eh?

The best bit, the cherry on top, the icing on the cake, the bit that lessened my anger and brought me back to the sick joke the world is playing was "we would like to see you about your asthma and inhalers but due to STAFF SICKNESS, it will have to be in the New Year."

They forget that I have chronic fatigue and chronic pain, I'm just left to deal with this shit. Most of the time, I can't because I'm unable. So fed up. I just want to be believed. Heard. Does anyone do their job properly anymore? Do any doctors exist that want to help a patient or is it just fiction for the television?

Exhausted after all this.

[nyx-lyris]

best laid plans - h.f.

fighting your own heart is among the hardest battles in the world.

ruth erwin is a college student at nyu in pursuit of a degree in english literature. though a bit older and more experienced than most of her peers, she has no trouble settling into university life once again. she decides to take a class in coding to spice up her schedule a bit - only to find herself struggling more than she would like.

in search of assistance, she finds herself in the office of one harold wren, her gentle and mysterious professor. she finds herself drawn to him, wanting more from him, despite the forbidden nature of such a relationship.

harold, too, despite his better judgment, finds himself wanting more and more of this lovely student of his. he knows there are a hundred and one things that stand between them, but he can't help but feel drawn to her.

but, when her number comes up, the two are placed in an impossible predicament. with so many dangerous secrets standing between them and so many unforeseen variables tying them inextricably together, the way forward seems cloudier than ever. what, in the end, will prevail?

chapter four: imminent

as soon as harold heard the door to the library close, indicating john had left, harold removed his glasses and let his face fall into his hands. john was a highly observant, highly intelligent man and harold knew his affection for this young woman would not remain secret for long. a mixture of guilt and frustration swirled in his gut, and he took a deep breath, steadying himself. there wasn’t time for this. miss erwin was in trouble and it was their job to save her.

harold put his glasses back on and tapped a key on his computer, the sound of a phone number being dialed echoing in his earpiece. detective carter’s voice was soon heard through the speaker.

“good morning, detective,” harold greeted, sitting up a bit in his chair. “i was wondering if you might run a background check for me.”

“sure,” carter answered. he could hear her walking to her desk through his earpiece.

“on who?”

“a young woman by the name of ruth erwin. i'll send you her information.”

“alright, i’ll see what i can find.”

“of course. thank you, detective.” “no problem, finch.”

a beep sounded, indicating she’d hung up. harold sighed quietly, then began to busy himself with looking into her credit history. he had a job to do and he wasn’t about to let his personal feelings get in the way.

hardly forty-five minutes went by before john returned to the library.

“here,” john said, placing a flash drive on harold’s desk. “the files from her computer.”

“oh, good,” harold answered, quickly plugging the drive into his own computer.

“you find anything else while i was gone?” john asked, coming around the back of harold’s seat to look at his screen.

“nothing that would clue us in to who’s threatening miss erwin’s life,” harold answered. “her credit history is clean. no evidence of criminal activity, no overdue payments - not even student loan debt.”

“impressive,” john said. “almost seems a little too clean.”

“i highly doubt she’s the perpetrator in this scenario, mr. reese,” harold responded. “she seems to have had a bit of help from family in paying off her student loans. other than that she’s simply been fiscally responsible, as far as i can tell.”

john chuckled behind him. “it seems like we found the most boring woman in new york,” he said.

harold made no comment, watching as the files from the flash drive uploaded to his computer. she had several file folders - for school, for work - but what immediately caught his eye was a folder labeled ‘stories’.

“she’s an author,” he murmured, almost to himself. he nearly opened the folder but decided against it. these were her creations - hers to share, not his to pry into.

he then began sifting through her emails. her inboxes were clean, so he slipped into her deleted messages. harold vaguely registered that john was no longer behind him as he worked, opting for pacing around the room instead of watching. harold was just about to deem this avenue useless when he noticed something.

“oh, here’s something interesting,” he murmured.

“you found something?” john asked, quickly returning to harold’s side.

“several emails from two fellow classmates,” harold answered, quickly typing their names into the college database. “students in my class - nicholas wood and lucas newman. the older emails appear to be about a group project from last year, but the more recent emails are of a much more... graphic nature.”

“graphic?” harold could almost hear john’s arched brow.

“originally, they were just persistently asking her out,” harold elaborated. then his voice darkened. “however, the more recent messages imply something more sinister.”

john leaned in closer and harold moved aside allowing him to read some of the messages.

Nicholas Wood To: Ruth Erwin

Hey babe, last night was fun. I was thinking we could do something even more fun this time… See you at the club tonight? Nicholas

Ruth Erwin To: Nicholas Wood

No thanks, I’m busy tonight.

Nicholas Wood To: Ruth Erwin

Come on, baby. I got something big to show you… Can’t wait to have it inside you…

Ruth Erwin To: Nicholas Wood

I’m busy. And besides, you know I’m not that kind of girl.

Nicholas Wood To: Ruth Erwin

Oh, come on, you know you want me.

Nicholas Wood To: Ruth Erwin

Babe, answer me.

Nicholas Wood To: Ruth Erwin

Don’t make me come find you…

Nicholas Wood To: Ruth Erwin

Lucas and I will find you, babe. And when we do… you’re in for one hell of a ride, baby girl.

john stepped away from the screen and harold shifted back into position, printing off their pictures, doing his best to ignore the anger and protectiveness roiling in his gut. a glance back at john as he went to retrieve the pictures told him he was feeling much the same way.

“i’m gonna go check out nicholas,” john said, a dark edge in his voice. “i’ll get fusco on lucas. send me their addresses.”

“will do, mr. reese,” harold answered. “i’ll ask detective carter to run a background check on them as well.”

“good. i’ll call you when i find him.”

“i looked up your girl, ruth erwin,” detective carter’s voice sounded in harold’s ear. “she’s clean, no prior convictions - not even a speeding ticket.”

“and what about the other names i sent you?” harold asked, tapping his fingers gently against his desk.

“nicholas wood and lucas newman,” carter answered, the sound of rustling paper accompanying her words. “technically, neither of them have a record, but they’re both connected to several accusations of stalking and sexual harassment. however, the charges against them are consistently dropped.”

harold sighed quietly.

“thank you for your help detective.”

“wait, finch,” carter continued. “do you think this woman could be their next target?”

“that is our current theory, yes,” harold answered, voice tight.

there was a pause. when carter spoke again, there was steel in her voice.

“if they make a move, call me.”

“i most certainly will, detective,” harold answered.

then he ended the call, quickly dialing john’s number.

“mr. reese,” harold began. “have you found anything on mr. wood?”

“we’re up on his phone,” john answered. “he just sent another email to ruth and he texted lucas an address.”

harold’s fingers flew across the keyboard to access wood’s screen.

Nicholas: [address] - this good?

Lucas: yeah, that’s good. wednesday, 10:00 pm?

Nicholas: sounds good. i’ll make sure she’s there.

Lucas: good. i'll tell hawkins. see you then.

harold’s eyes widened.

“finch, it looks like they’re gonna do this at the college.”

“yes, i know.” harold’s voice was quiet for a moment. then he straightened up. “you stay on wood. i’ll enlist detective carter to keep an eye on miss erwin.”

"any idea who hawkins is?"

"no," harold answered. "perhaps you and the detective can extract that information from our aggrieved young stalkers."

there was a stretch of silence as harold returned to work. the fire in his gut still hadn’t settled, so he used it to focus, determined to find out as much as possible about all the players. he would let nothing happen to ruth. nothing.

“finch?” john’s voice caused harold to jump.

“yes, mr. reese?”

“is there anything else you want to tell me about this woman?”

harold swallowed hard. he managed to keep his voice light.

“i don’t believe so - why do you ask?”

“no reason,” john answered. “i just want you to know if there is anything else... you can trust me.”

harold’s eyes widened at john’s statement. he knows.

“i’ll keep that in mind, mr. reese.”

prev chapter - next chapter

a/n: hello everyone! i'm so sorry this is a week late - i've been so busy lately that i just spaced it. so this time i'm doing a two-for-one special and giving you guys two chapters to enjoy - i'll upload the next one momentarily. thanks so much for your patience!

ao3 link to best laid plans

[gallifrey1sburning]

An incomplete list of things that have gone wrong since my move to a new apartment and city two weeks ago:

Moving truck and car both ran out of space and we had to throw out a bunch of shit we didn’t intend to (this is on us for underestimating how much we had accumulated in six years)

The super didn’t leave us the elevator key to lock it for the movers to use

The city didn’t provide the promised “no parking” signs to reserve space for the moving truck in front of the building on a narrow, one-way street

The movers dropped and left a massive hole in the back of one of my bookcases

The movers also broke the Edison bulb in my floor lamp off in the socket and lied about it, so I was just convinced I bought the wrong size replacement bulbs. Twice. Before noticing the fucked up corpse of a lightbulb base in the lamp and removing it with needlenose pliers (thanks, crafting!)

In unpacking, found that the beautiful wool cable knit sweater I spent an entire year knitting in college and was very proud of was infested with some sort of insect and had to throw it out.

All frustrating but manageable, yes? BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE

No hot water for the first FULL WEEK we were here

When they sent a plumber to fix the hot water, he saw that the air conditioning unit was flooding the utility room, so we had to turn it off. It’s been four days and it’s not fixed because they need access to something on the roof but…

…they can’t get to the roof because the key is gone and no one in the building or management company knows where it is

(PS the hot water fix is a workaround because it ALSO isn’t venting properly through the roof)

To keep the air circulating while the water heater is borrowing air from the apartment while its roof access pipes are blocked or whatever (I am not a tradesman, I am relaying what the professionals have told me), we are supposed to keep a window cracked. When we tried to do so, we found that the double-hung windows were installed incorrectly, and if you try to open them, the entire top pane drops violently. There is no screen on the top portion of the window.

(This is notable because there are A LOT of insects flying around in this area right now, none of which you would want in your apartment)

The dishwasher is broken

The drains are not draining

We partially moved here so I could start working hybrid, and today, for what would have been my fourth in-office day, well, let’s just say that I did NOT make it in, and that might have something to do with what the New York Times referred to as a “doom loop for NJ commuters” with delays in ALL types of transit into Manhattan ranging from one to four hours. People were jumping out of buses inside the Lincoln Tunnel. I opted to work from home in my unairconditioned apartment, where the thermostat was registering 84 degrees. Which could technically be worse, but certainly wasn’t pleasant.

Took a break from work and decided to run an errand locally; went to the garage to find our car straight up GONE - after several hours of panicked calls with the management company and reporting the car stolen (because the management company said they didn’t call a tow truck on us), turns out we’d read our move in packet wrong and were in the wrong spot, and instead of calling the super or building management to ask us to move, our neighbors CALLED THE COPS and had us TICKETED AND TOWED. Which they are very much not supposed to do by building standards but isn’t technically illegal, just shitty behavior. And since we hadn’t driven in 9 days because we’re trying to use public transit as much as possible (when it’s running, anyway), the car had been held by the tow company for 5 days by the time we saw it was gone and it cost us $500 to get it back, plus $56 for the ticket.

And the most horrendous thing about all of this? I’m still happier than I’ve been in YEARS, because New York and I have been in an on and off abusive relationship since 2007 and she is one of the epic loves of my life.

Oh, also our rent Is fucking ASTRONOMICAL. Welcome home to me.

[cricutdesignspaceforwindows]

How to Use Cricut Mug Press to Create Customized Mugs?

Cricut Mug Press is an excellent machine for creating custom mugs for your regular DIY projects or your part-time business. I really like this Cricut machine for its unique performance and elegant design. It is tiny and does everything gracefully. If you want to make some beautiful-looking mugs from it, read this blog till the end and learn what it can do. Basically, I will suggest some quick ways how to use Cricut Mug Press. So, let’s get ready with the machine and discover something new.

Have you guys used it before? If not, I wouldn’t mind giving a brief introduction to this Cricut machine that I have been using for a while now. Cricut has the best collection of machines, and the Cricut Mug Press is one of those attractive machines that beginners look for.

Cricut Mug Press: An Overview

Cricut Mug Press is a Cricut’s heat press designed specifically for creating customized mugs. People from all over the world are adopting this machine for making their desired mugs for either personal use or to sell them to the market. So, if you are the one who wants to create mugs too, be with me till the end of this to learn everything.

How to Setup a Cricut Mug Press on Your Device?

When you finally get your Cricut machine, you need to set it up on a device in order to prepare it for upcoming projects. To set up your heat-press, you can use a USB connection to your devices, such as a computer or laptop. I assume you’ll do it easily without my instructions.

So, let’s come to the final setup process, which is to register your device or activate it. By doing this, you’ll be able to use it to make your first project. Follow my steps. So, are you ready for the final part? Check the steps below for Cricut Mug Press activation.

Initially, navigate to cricut.com/setup and get the Cricut Design Space.

After that, you have to open the software.

Now, a screen will ask you if you want to set up or activate your machine.

Next, select your Cricut model from the options.

Then, follow all the on-screen steps to continue.

Finally, you will set up your Cricut machine successfully.

That’s it for the Cricut machine setup. Now, it’s time to learn how to use it to make a first project.

How to Use Cricut Mug Press for Beginners?

When you know how to set up the Mug Press, it’s time to cover its use and see how you can prepare your first mug with this machine.

Step 1: Prepare Your Cricut Mug Press

To get started with the Mug Press, you need to first warm it up. You don’t have to do anything complicated. All you need is to put the Mug Press on a heat resistant surface and leave it turned on. When the machine is ON, you’ll see the orange light lit.

Step 2: Prepare Your Mug Design

So, create a design or use the premade design from the Cricut Design Space. Don’t forget to mirror your design to place it correctly on your final mug.

Step 3: Cutting Your Design

Now, you need to cut your sublimation design using your Cricut cutting machine. I like my Cricut Maker 3. What’s your favorite machine? As you are already a crafter, I know you are a pro at cutting materials. So, I won’t waste your time on all the small things in learning how to use Cricut Mug Press.

Step 4: Cleaning Your Blank Mug

Once you are ready with the design, you should clean your sublimation mug with rubbing alcohol and cotton to remove lint. Don’t touch the area you are putting the design on. Let it dry for a few seconds, and get ready to place your design.

Step 5: Transfer Your Design to Mug

After that, apply the sublimation paper to your mug. Ensure that the design is facing up on the mug. Next, the heat-resistant tape is used to fix the design tightly to avoid mishaps.

Also, make sure that there are no gaps in the design, as it will not provide you with a clean finish.

Step 6: Place the Mug Into Your Cricut Mug Press

In this step, you are finally learning how to use Cricut Mug Press. So, put your mug into the Mug Press. Keep the handle of the mug outside of the heat press. Then, close the lid and allow the process to begin.

When the Mug Press is working, you will see the light blinking on the machine. The heating process will take not more than 5-6 minutes to complete.

Step 7: Take the Mug Out

Once the process is complete, your Cricut Mug Press will beep a sound to indicate that the heating is over. Afterward, slowly release your fully heated mug out of the heat press. Also, place it on a heat resistant surface.

Let your mug cool down, as you may spoil your design by removing the sublimation paper early. When the mug is cooled, take off the sublimation paper.

Step 8: Reveal Your Project

Can you see the vibrant design on my mug? You can create it, too, with your brilliant Cricut machine. And enjoy your mug!

Conclusion

You finally read my blog to learn how to use Cricut Mug Press. It’s really great, and I appreciate it. Creating a mug with the Cricut machine is fun. I enjoy it, and I want all my readers to enjoy making their customized mug. Ensure that you create a lovely design in your Cricut Design Space to create a vibrant-looking mug. You can do it as a hobby or to earn a profit.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q.1 What Type of Ink Should I Use With Cricut Mug Press?

To use a Cricut Mug press, you should use infusible ink, which is specially designed for creating the sublimation projects. You can also use Cricut’s accessories such as infusible ink pens and markers. Usually, infusible ink is used for transferring designs permanently on a surface such as your coffee mug. 

Q.2 Which Device Should You Use With a Cricut Mug Press?

To use a Cricut Mug Press, you should use a computer or laptop. You need to activate your machine before using it. Moreover, you need to update firmware. Beginners should note that you can’t set up your Mug Press with a mobile device like Android or iOS. 

Q.3 Can You Use Any Mug in Cricut Mug Press?

No, you can’t use any mug with your Mug Press. You should use the Cricut mug, which is specially made for the sublimation process. Alternatively, you can use a mug that has a special ceramic coating to withstand the excessive heat. For convenience, you should use Cricut mugs, which are easily available on Cricut’s website. 

Read more: cricut.com/setup mac

Cricut Design Space

Cricut New Machine Setup

cricut.com/setup

Source: how to use Cricut Mug Press

[apocryphalfemme]

The odds of this are absurd. I mean, the idea of even just finding one of these accursed things intact and unattended in the first place is laughable! They’re so big, so fast, so fucking untouchable that they don’t even seem real half the time. A blot in the sky one second, burning through your home the next, and blurring into the horizon before you can even register what’s happened. Ballistic hallucinations from on high. You can imagine, then, how surreal it is to not only finally see one at rest, but to touch one. To be in one.

We found it in the burnt-out ruins of Port Collo. I suppose it makes sense that, if one were to have been abandoned anywhere, it’d be here: Heaven wasn’t half caught by surprise when the uranium miners blew the town’s primary processing plant to hell. Chain fissile reaction melted the place into radioactive slag-land, forcing immediate evacuation for anyone not instantly vaporized. Guess this thing got left behind in the scrum. Lucky for us, I suppose. Worrying, that it can tank a nuke.

It’s a… fuck, what do they call it? There’s some fancy acronym for it which I can never remember. Most of us just call them Angels. Agents of a cruel and uncaring corporate God. Roko almost certainly knows the technical name, but she isn’t too intent on talking right now. She’s the most focused I’ve seen her in weeks; stalking slowly through the cramped space of the cockpit. For as unimaginably big as this thing is, it doesn’t seem as though much of a mind has been given to pilot comfort: I can’t even imagine how a person is supposed to properly stand in here. The way it seems to swallow her up, making even her broad frame seem small, sets my teeth on edge. I make my worries known.

“Look, I really don’t think this a good idea. We’re nearly out of rad pills as it is and we don’t actually know for certain why this thing was left-“

“Quiet.” She’s not malicious in her reprimand, just blunt. She’s stopped now, crouched in the centre of the cockpit, peering up at the cavalcade of screens and systems indicators that festoon the cramped space’s ceiling. “The reactor’s still good.”

“What? How?”

“Look,” she murmurs, pointing up. She taps at a point in the overhead command array. The effect is odd: indicator lights flicker to life around where she touched, before spreading out in a ripple. In the dark of night, further compounded by the dark of the cockpit, they look like a false starscape suspended in micro above us. “Not dead. Just dormant.”

“So?”

“So, I want to turn it on.”

“Oh hell no,” I stammer, “there is no way that we’re-“

“Ozlu,” she interrupts, finally turning to face me. “This could be what we need. Can you imagine what the resistance could do if we had one of these things marching with us? We wouldn’t have to run with our tails between or legs anymore - we could fight Heaven on its own terms.”

“I…” I wring my hands, nervously. She’s right - she’s always right - but… “it’s an Angel. Aren’t you… aren’t you scared?” She makes an attempt at a kind smile, but it comes out too sharp. She’s not good at softness, but she’s making an effort for my sake, I can tell. It’s appreciated.

“Maybe. But we have to try and I can’t do this without your help. And hey - you know I won’t let anything happen to you, yeah? We’ll be okay. You and me; always. We’ve just gotta try.” I nod shakily, but smile back all the same.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay; you and me. What do you need?” She grins at me, then snaps back into cold focus. She gestures towards the front of the cockpit, underneath the ballistic glass we removed to get in here. There’s a curving microsystems panel inlaid below it, presumably used by maintenance crews for diagnostic purposes. Way bigger than the control chips I’m usually supposed to salvage, but not too unfamiliar.

“When I turn this thing on, it’s gonna freak the fuck out, ‘cause we do not have the proper credentials to be in here. I need you to find a way to screw with the Angel’s protocols so it doesn’t immediately purge the cockpit.”

“Sure, yeah. Can do.” I actually think I can, too: for as densely laid together as all these integrated circuits may be, they’re still just the parts of a machine, Heaven-sent though it may be. Finding out which parts are responsible for adhering to admin protocols is only a process of elimination. After a couple minutes of circuit tracing, I’m pretty certain I’ve found the responsible logic gate and, sorting through the tools built into my prosthetic arm, flick an appropriate micro-needle out of one finger.

“Ready?” Roko asks. I flash a thumbs-up with my free hand over my shoulder, ready to bypass the appropriate logic gate as soon as startup commences. “Alright. 3. 2. 1 - Go.”

Roko punches the ignition sequence. The colossal reactor somewhere below our feet begins to thrum and the cockpit lights up, an uncountable number of blinking, flickering screens coming to life. I watch as the microsystems panel begins to course in sequence with electricity and, just as the Angel’s onboard AI begins to speak -

ALERT; INTRUDERS; INITIATI-

- I force the micro-needle through the appropriate gate and scrape, hard, forming a permanent bypass. We wait with bated breath as the Angel seems to think to itself in excruciating silence.

ONLINE. AWAITING PILOT INTEGRATION.

We breathe out in sync. Giddy, I turn to Roko and find her… the cockpit has changed. In the center of the space, the floor has split open and some sort of pilot’s seat appears to be rising into place. That explains why it’s so hard to stand in here, I guess: you aren’t supposed to. The seat itself looks wildly uncomfortable - it seems like you need to lie down and lean over it, like you’re riding a grav-cycle or something. Roko has planted a booted foot on the back of it and is hunched over, studying the control scheme. There’s a glint in her eyes that… honestly, that unnerves me more than the Angel does. She’s so focused I wonder if she remembers I’m here.

Eventually, she huffs a heavy breath. “Alright. Who are you, Thing-Of-Heaven?” she asks.

WHALESHIP HEAVY INDUSTRIES; HEAVILY ARMORED KINESOSUIT; KNIGHT-CLASS; TYPE-6 SIEGE ARTICULATI-

“No, shut up. Your name. What are you called?”

The false stars twinkling above us dim a little as the thing appears to consider the question.

BRUTUS.

“Hmm. Sounds violent. What’s it mean?”

REFERENCE; HISTORICAL; ANCIENT EARTH. KING KILLER.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “Now, Brutus, could I theoretically sit down here and get you moving again?”

NEGATORY; CRITICAL ERROR: SCANS SHOW YOU LACK REQUISITE PSYCHOSOMATIC AUGMENTATIONS. PILOT INTEGRATION PROCESS WILL RESULT IN DEATH.

“Is that a certainty?”

AFFIRMATIVE.

“Then could you make emergency retro-augmentations?”

“Okay, wait, what?” I interrupt. “That is not a good idea, you could-“

AFFIRMATIVE: THIS UNIT IS FIELD SURGERY CAPABLE.

“Roko, we don’t even remotely know what that would entail.” She ignores me.

“Brutus, what are the odds of survival?”

LIKELIHOOD OF PILOT SURVIVAL: 0.07%

“No!” I finally cry out. “Why are you even considering this? It’s insane!”

“Because we’re losing the fucking war, Ozlu!” she shouts. It makes me flinch; Roko never shouts. She clenches her jaw and snaps away from me. “Because Heaven is murdering us. They nuked Hab 251, they razed Walikauterau, they let their stupid War of Rooms run rampant for years; they take and they burn anything they want and fuck the rest of us because-“

“But why is that on us to solve?! What can we even do about it? Why do we have to fix this? It isn’t… it’s not fair.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Roko sighs heavily, a plume of condensation spearing through the cold night air. Slowly - gingerly, even - she stands as best she can from her hunched position and moves to me, her hands coming to frame my face: gentle, despite all her calloused roughness and tense muscle.

“Listen to me. Heaven chose war. They could have done this any other way, but they chose the path of violence. Now that doesn’t mean we must choose the same. Some would say it’s more noble to rise above, to choose kindness in the face of cruelty. And, y’know what, I fault no one who makes that choice.” She wipes her thumbs under my eyes. When did I start crying? “But I cannot… I will not turn my cheek. To turn from this would destroy me in a way infinitely more foul than death. They chose violence and thus I choose to answer them in kind. Fighting is the one thing I’m good at - the one thing I can do for the people I love. Please let me fight for you.”

“But… you’d become one of them! You’d be an Angel. Aren’t you worried Heaven will… break you to its will?”

“No. Angels are chosen and choose to serve Heaven. Here and now, I choose to ascend simply because I say I will. I will saint myself into the conquerer’s canon and show the false deities who seek to rule us that they were fools for ever daring to think they could. Because they are not above us, Ozlu. Our right to Heaven is just as valid as theirs and with God as my victim I will see our right fulfilled.”

I sniffle. “How do you even know it’ll work?”

“Oh, that’s easy. You just have to want it, Ozlu. And I want this more than I have ever wanted anything in my life.” She says it with such conviction, such fury, that I can’t bring myself to argue. I want to say something, to say anything, but… I know I’ll never convince her. Behind her eyes is the spark of something that burns so bright and so fierce I’m afraid it’ll burn me just by being near to her. So instead, I steel myself and give her the closest thing to a resolute nod that I can.

And damn her, she grins. My heart flutters as she grins the grin of a madwoman before leaning down to plant a kiss on my forehead, then hopping up into the pilot’s seat, laying herself down upon it. She’s absurd. She’s insane. She slides into the seat like she was born for it.

“Brutus?”

STANDING BY.

“I am your pilot now.”

PROVIDE PROPER AUTHORI-

Roko flicks her eyes to me. I reach down with my micro-needle and bypass the appropriate logic gate.

AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED. ATTENTION: CRITICAL ERROR: PILOT LACKS REQUISITE PSYCHOSOMATIC AUGMENTATIONS.

“Yeah, yeah, we know. We’re gonna fix that. Prepare for emergency retro-augmentation of pilot.”

REPEAT: LIKELIHOOD OF PILOT SURVIVAL: 0.07%. CONFIRM?

The whimper I let out as the estimate is repeated is pathetic and shameful and Roko doesn’t even notice. She’s laughing now. A low, throaty thing that doesn’t reflect a trace of the panic I’m struggling to contain.

“Best odds I’ve had in years. Ozlu, get out there and re-seal the glass. Brutus: begin full surgical augmentation. We’ve got a war to win, people.”

I do as I’m told. I clamber back out the breach we cut, switch my arm to a fusion welder, and begin re-sealing the cockpit. Inside, the Angel - Brutus - issues some sort of instruction and Roko puts her arms out, head faced up towards the twitching bushels of razor sharp nanofilament beginning to snake their way down from the roof of the cockpit.

I want to smash my way back in. To pull her out of there. To tell her she doesn’t need to do this. But before I can do anything, she catches my eye through the repaired glass and… she fucking winks at me. Though the sound doesn’t travel, I can practically hear her as she mouths the words at me. ‘You have to want it.’

The surgery begins. The nanofilament strikes. Her body jerks as a million, million microscopic strands start threading themselves through her flesh, forming a grey, wiry harness around her. I watch for as long as I can - to leave would be abandonment - but when the harness starts piercing her skull, weaving cables from where her eyes used to be up into the machine, I have to turn and vomit. I empty the contents of my stomach down the Angel’s titanic front in sharp gasping bursts to the sound of Roko’s blood splattering against the glass behind me.

Bones snapped and blood spilt are useless metrics for the passage of time, but the sheer quantity of both that happen over the next while make it feel as though I’m there for hours, listening to this abominable… thing dissect my best friend.

Oh, sweet Doors to the Beyond, why didn’t I stop her?

…

It’s dawn, now. I’m still crouched there, huffing shaky breaths, eyes wept dry and head achingly sore. My back is pressed against the glass. I want to look. I really, really don’t want to look.

I’ve almost convinced myself to move, to do something, to do anything when… the ground shifts. No, not the ground, the Angel - the fucking Angel is moving! In a panic, I try to stabilize myself, but my perch is precarious and I flail wildly, starting to slide down the hundreds of meters of central chassis. Fuck, no, not like this, this isn’t right, it isn’t fair, I need to -

The Angel catches me. With a palm the size of a city block, it catches me before I fall too far through space for it to be lethal. I’m winded, badly, but… I’m alive. So too, it seems, is it. With all the slow inevitability of a tectonic plate, the hand brings me up level with the Angel’s head. Or, well… not a head per se. The colossal camera bank that approximates a head begins to turn, slowly, grinding towards me. The sound of a thousand multi-spectrum lenses slowly coming to life and focusing on me makes my empty stomach turn flips.

“Roko?” I whisper.

A throaty klaxon alarm splits the air as the public address system comes on in full before a voice, louder than thunder, booms through the wastes of Port Collo.

YOU HAVE TO WANT IT.

I’m crying again. Roko - no. Not anymore. The Angel, Brutus? No, definitely not an Angel. Which I suppose, in a way, is exactly what Roko was looking for. Not-An-Angel. An Anti-Angel. An Angel Killer. The thing - whatever it is now - places its third and fourth arms down upon the ground and begins to push itself up, getting its legs under itself as it stands. The change in elevation as I rise up, held in its second palm, makes my ears pop. Semi-liquid plasma coolant vents in great arcing bursts from its back as it stabilizes. Above us, illuminated in low orbit by the dawn, the ships of Heaven that eternally haunt our home are buzzing with activity. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they seemed spooked. The voice booms again.

THE ANGELS OF HEAVEN WEEP; FOR THEY KNOW THEY ARE SAFE NO LONGER. DEATH. DEATH TO FALSE KINGS. DEATH TO HEAVEN AND ITS FAITHLESS MANDATE.

I stare dumbfounded. Tears stream down my face, eyes increasingly blinded by the shine of alloyed plating glittering in the dawn light. I watch, awestruck, as, through sheer force of will, in complete and utter spite of the divine, Roko ascends.

The Corporation is distinctly opposed to calling pilots "angels". They've released several statements recommending that officers silence any such language, saying it "threatens the integrity of the forces", and that HAKs and the pilots who control them are "tools, not deities". But I mean, when you see the way a suit's holoprojectors form a pulsing ring around a pilot's helmet, or when one slumps forwards out of its cockpit to reveal that thick mass of wires creeping from its back, it's impossible not to see the resemblance. And when, like most of the men stationed here, you've found yourself pinned down by heavy artillery fire from two directions with no chance of survival, but out of the heavens a Bishop-class rig emerges and razes the enemy with what can only be described as holy flame? I mean hell, that's enough to make anyone a believer (pardon my language).

I have a buddy who deals with the HAKs directly. He works in biomechanics, combat simtech or whatever. I asked him once what he thought about the whole "angel" thing. He got real quiet, and he looked directly at me and said, "you don't even know the half of it." And I stared right into his eyes and I could see that same heavenly flame burning in there and I knew that he had seen something he couldn't quite understand, but that he loved with all his heart.

[oorpe]

fuck certificate mills

Jesus Fuckballs Christ is ITIL certification a grift and a half. The job wants me to get certified on this basic ITIL 4 thingy. That means I have to install the official peoplecert proctoring spyware on the company laptop. Don’t really want to install god knows what surveillance crap on there but hey, not my property so fuck it. It’s not like they haven’t already breached our entire organization with this shitty software. I wouldn’t trust it but again, not my call. I already took the training course last spring, but I’ve been putting off scheduling the exam because I can’t stand reading the intentionally confusing jargon and nested, byzantine multi-level definitions of incredibly samey-sounding concepts. But alas, now I’ve officially run out of time on the test voucher I got last year. So I had to begrudgingly schedule the exam for the level 1 or whatever it was called for next week. I had the training a year ago as stated, but I doubt I’d remember any more had it been yesterday: the lecturer was absolute dogshit. It was in it’s entirety just a 2-day slog of him reading out poorly made powerpoint slides and me dozing off and leafing through the mock exams. It was the last thing I did before going on summer vacation last year. It sucked ass.  So, as all good students do, I procrastinated until the last possible moment, and then started looking around the peoplecert website yesterday for the actual course materials. And holy fucking shit you guys, what shifty anti-user nonsense their little course book app is! It’s a characteristically clunky browser-based “ebook reader” that allows you to add bookmarks and highlights and annotations in limited capacity. It’s pretty bog-standard features-wise, but what really pissed me off about it was how it fucks with page printing in a really underhanded way. I usually print any longer reading materials out, partly because I can’t stay on task when reading off a computer screen, and partly because I just like it better that way. So I print my reading materials liberally, that’s why I bought the stupid laser printer after all. And let me tell you, this company fucking hates the fact that browsers let you print web pages out. There’s an in-app print to pdf prompt, sure. But this is actually a trap designed for maximum frustration. The in-app print option arbitrarily restricts printing to 2 pages at a time. There’s a 40-60s “progress bar” before the download starts (as expected, this is complete bullshit, it only sends a request for the pages after the timeout has elapsed.) The printed pages are unnecessarily rendered into incredibly poor quality .png with impairingly large and up-keyed incrimination-focused watermarks all across. Judging by what I gleamed from the http requests made, there’s a hidden cap on activating this “print” feature of a 100 activations, and this isn’t disclaimed, so you might spend hours trying to laboriously print out what you need to read, only for it to tell you to go eat a dick 90% through the book. In short, it’s the worst print button the world has ever known. I hate this print button with great passion. So, I figured, fuck that. I’ve used a browser before, I’ll just print from the browser prompt on every chapter (the app loads the book into view chapter by chapter) and that’s that. Well, not so fast! The browser’s print preview just shows a blank page with a shit-eating little <p>don’t you know it’s impossible to print html?!? what are you even doing you dog-brained fuckstick, now go use our awesome print feature little donkey</p> (paraphrasing only slightly) plastered on top.

Fuck me, these people really don’t want people reading their garbage book, huh.

Ok. Let’s dig a tiny bit deeper, what is it doing here?

It turns out that the app registers a few event handlers for the beforeprint event, so that when you open the browser’s print dialog, it can remove and re-add the main content iframe. That in turn displays only their little passive-aggressive message, until some logic clears it a moment later, and the actual chapter becomes visible. Of course, the browser’s print dialog tries to print the current state of the page, and only captures the single paragraph that is visible at that moment, hence the preview from before.

Well, that’s annoying and profoundly anti-user. Let’s continue. Eventually they have to give my browser workable markup in order to display this stupid thing, it’s just a matter of digging.

It turns out the chapters are rendered via two nested iframes (some other dickish obfuscation scheme I’d assume), so I grab the inner one and quickly look over the markup. Yup, fantastic, the buck stops here. I can just open the src= of the inner iframe in a new tab and use devtools to drop a few fuckery-inducing script tags and the style tag that hides the page contents initially. A presto, the chapter is suddenly entirely printable with minimal hassle! Someone really should let these people know that it’s actually not that hard to let their users print out this material. In fact it takes some pretty grifty fuckery to screw with a basic browser feature in this way! Anyway I didn’t actually read a goddamn word of the material because I was so pissed off about this comprehensively wrong-headed approach to basic accessibility. But I did manage to download and re-collate the stupid book into a single file today, which was naturally a lot more fun than reading their godawful business management wank, so all in all a decent day of “work”. At least I’ll have the materials fucking accessible for the inevitable round 2 after I botch this stupid exam.

[itsoutrageouss]

could u write a subbish elliot smut?? maybe like ur watching a movie in his room and it's late and u notice him getting needy like cuddling into u and shit,,and then it escalates,, if not, thats okay !! <3

Just keep watching - elliot

A/N: Awh I’m a sucker for needy elliot, ty for the request! This is not proof-read lol.

Words: 880

Warnings: obv needy!elliot, blowjob, lowkey dom reader, thigh grinding 

——🕊

You felt your vision grow more and more blurry as you tried focusing on the computer screen in front of you, but the voices kept mixing with your thoughts and your eyes grew heavy. Elliot’s head was resting on your chest, and you felt his warm hand slide under your t-shirt to caress your side. To be fair, it only made you more sleepy, the continuous stroke of his thumb lulling you to close your eyes.

Your body began to stir though, at the feeling of a soft pair of lips pressing to the skin of your neck. It was warm and wet, and they continued up and down your neck, up to your jaw and down again. You hummed softly at the feeling, expecting him to stop, but he never did. The kisses continued, and soon you felt his body press closer to you, the hand at your waist dragging you to him. The feeling of something hard and throbbing pressed insistently against your leg, the only barrier between your skin and his being the loose sweatpants Elliot wore.

“Wake up baby” he whispered, not even sure if you were asleep. You felt so fucking warm and soft against him, and he felt his mind slowly slip into a place of pure neediness. He started grinding against your thigh without thinking, mouth hung open as he let a soft moan slip out.

That definitely woke you up, and you smiled softly up at the ceiling, stroking his bare back. “What’s the matter?” You asked, playing dumb. He merely whimpered into the skin of your collarbone, rutting into you harder. The mix of the plushness of your thigh and material of his sweats made the friction rough and a gasp tore from his throat. He would’ve been embarrassed at the way he was acting if it didn’t feel so damn good.

“Use your words, Elli” you muttered, glancing down at his curly head. His eyes met yours, glazed over and soft with adoration.

“Jus’ want you” he sighed. The movie was still playing in the background, laptop nearly falling off the bed due to negligence. It gave you an idea, as he kept grinding into you, now rock hard and weeping. Gently, your fingers pushed against his shoulder until he lay flat on the bed, craning his neck to look as your figure moved downwards.

“Keep watching the movie, pretty” you ordered. It took all of his strength to remove his eyes from your eager gaze and the way you pulled down his sweatpants while kissing along the V line of his body. He managed to avert his gaze to the laptop screen but he didn’t register anything he saw, the characters, lines and plot twists just a white noise while your hand wrapped around his dick.

He was flushed pink, dripping pre-cum that you eagerly tasted with kitten licks. The moan he let out was surprisingly loud, and your eyes flickered to his that had shut in pleasure while his hips bucked into your face. “Eyes open” you commanded with a sly smirk, before enveloping the tip with your smooth lips. He huffed out in protests but peeled them open, trying his hardest to look at the screen again, knowing you’d bash him if he looked at you.

His obedience made butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you sucked eagerly on his tip before spitting on it, letting it glide all the way down to the base of his dick. The tickling feeling made his hands fist the sheets beside him, eyes almost fluttering closed. Your hand twisted around him as you licked up the protruding vein all the way to his head. You don’t know what made him so fucking horny tonight, but everything you did seemed to send him into a complete frenzy, and you loved it.

The movie played out in front of his eyes still, but the people kept blurring together, and he fought hard not to let his eyes roll back when you took him as deep as you could, your throat constricting around him. 

“Fuck,�� he choked out “you’re so fucking good at that.” his hips kept moving, trying to get you to take more and then less- hell he didn’t know what he was doing anymore, the feeling of your warm mouth taking over his every waking thought. He wasn’t going to last, and you both knew it. Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked him eagerly, feeling him molten and throbbing in between your lips. He gasped out shakily, arching off the bed and into your mouth as he came, gaze tearing away from the computer to your glassy eyes looking up at him, his hands fumbling to stay grounded. It rushed through him, pure, hot white pleasure convulsing through all his muscles. You swallowed everything that he gave you, stroking his thighs in the process. 

When he calmed down, all energy was drained from both of you. His eyes were droopy, body heavy and definitely relaxed. Your fingers fumbled to pause the movie, placing the laptop haphazardly on the floor before crawling back next to Elliot, who was almost asleep already. The thin blanket was draped over both your figures. 

“Thank you” he whispered, before both of you dozed off

[rafescoke]

Maybank ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Request: how about y/n is jj’s older sister and shes dating rafe but they keep it a secret bcs rafe is a dick he doesn’t want to be seen w a pogue. jj knows that his sister is dating rafe and he kinda hates rafe for keeping they relationship as a secret. then sarah threw a party n invited the pogues n they play truth or dare n a random kook dared rafe to sniff coke on some random girl’s belly n rafe accepted it without thinking abt what y/n thinks n they fight @rafeswh0ree

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Rafe would do anything to protect his title, even if it causes the girl he loves to stray away. 

Warnings: Pure angst, mentions of substance!

A/N: you know the drill. . . send requests! 

(Y/N) doesn’t want to remember the day her little brother found out about her relationship with a certain kook prince.

Being a year younger than (Y/N), it’s funny how he acts like a total older brother to her; always so protective, and not letting any boys touch her.

It was a Friday, and (Y/N) had sneaked out to meet Rafe by the beach. The night sky was almost perfect; the moon was illuminating them, and the waves were calming.

Rafe pressed a kiss against her lips, mumbling how much he loves her when the sound of a backpack hitting the soft sand startled them.

“What the fuck?”

(Y/N) scampered from Rafe, fixing her fallen top and running towards JJ who was already making his way back to his bike. His eyebrows were furrowed, his heart banging.

(Y/N) pulled his shoulder, “JJ, stop. It’s not what you think!”

“Wait, wait, what do you mean? Did he drown and you had to give him CPR?” He scoffed, prying his shoulders away and walking backward slowly. “This is so low of you, (Y/N). Fuck.”

JJ noticed that something was different with his sister a few months ago. The sneaky texts under the table, the sudden smile at her phone screen. . . he had thought of the actions as nothing more than (Y/N) contacting her friends.

And when he saw her in Figure 8 two weeks ago, in a fancy restaurant he works part-time in, she had told him that her new friend had brought her there.

As if she would ever have a kook friend.

Of course it wasn’t a kook friend. It was a kook boyfriend.

“JJ, please! Why are you like this?”

JJ turned his heels to look at (Y/N) properly. His nostrils were flaring, and his eyes were wild. Trying to contain his anger, “Your fucking boyfriend is a drug addict and I’m not letting you date someone who choked my friends before!”

He waited, and extended his hands. “It’s me or Rafe. Stay if you want to stay with him, and come with me if you want to come back home.”

“You’re crazy,” she whispered, letting a tear rolled down her cheeks. She thought of many scenarios where JJ will eventually find out about her and Rafe, but this wasn’t in her list.

“Me or Rafe.”

(Y/N) remembers exactly the way JJ walked away disappointedly, his head hanging low and his hands balled up in a fist.

It took her weeks to regain JJ’s trust and fix their relationship, and though JJ still hasn’t accepted Rafe, he’s okay. He’s quiet, sometimes seething at the boy, but he knows how much (Y/N) loves him.

“Hey,” Rafe smiles, placing a kiss directly on her cheeks. Her hot body from the scorching sun slowly tempers down, and she melts into his touch.

Pulling him close, she nestles into his chest. “Sarah’s having a party tonight.”

“Yeah? You’re coming?”

“We’re coming, Rafe,” she sighs. The sprinkling water from the fast motion of the boat hits her on her face, and she wipes them away before looking up to this handsome face.

She rubs her thumb against his cheeks, feeling him soften. “If I ask you something, can you not be mad?”

“Is this about letting everyone know about us?” He asks, his hands resting above her hips. He removes them and wraps his face, sighing.

(Y/N) bites her lips, already knowing the answer to her question. “Never mind.”

“We talked about this, (Y/N).”

“I know, so I’m not going to fight with you on this again,” she sits up straight, inching away from him. “I mean, after almost a year of dating, I think you’d—”

“You’re forcing this.”

“I’m not!” She stands up, groaning. “God, you’re starting a fight again!”

The silence between them grows again, both sulking and shouting in their heads. After a while, (Y/N) moves to the front deck of the boat and Rafe curses silently, knowing that the plan he had about strolling by the stream with the girl he loves is a failure.

But it’s not his fault, is it? He just can’t show her off. It’s bad enough that her brother’s aware of their relationship, and Rafe had to make sure that son of a bitch never opens his mouth to anyone.

“Hey, yo, JJ, got a minute?”

The blonde waiter grunted, eyeing Rafe with so much hatred before placing a cold mineral bottle on the table.

“Rafe, don’t cause any scene,” Topper warned, staring at the both of them. He could sense something was wrong, but he didn’t put this mind into it. He thought of it as nothing more than Rafe’s daily fights with the pogues.

JJ didn’t reply, not wanting to see his smug face what more to talk to him, but as he tried to return back to the kitchen, Rafe gripped his wrist tightly.

“Just a minute,” he smiled.

JJ quirked his head to the back of the kitchen where the workers usually smoke. Rafe nodded, letting go of his wrist, and whispered something to Topper.

“What do you want?” JJ asked once they were in the back alley, watching as Rafe lighted a cigarette and bringing the stick to his lips.

“How’s (Y/N)?”

“Isn’t that your problem?” The blonde boy scoffed, “Hey, man, look. I appreciate this family bonding activity you’re trying to have, but you’re no family. I care about (Y/N), and I’m in no way letting her be with you.”

What angered JJ more wasn’t the fact that he didn’t reply, but it was the superior look he plastered on his face. He felt the urge to slap and hurt him more than anything else.

“If there’s one thing we can agree on—” he said, blowing a puff of smoke. JJ inched backward, not wanting the smell of tobacco to linger on his uniform or he’ll be in trouble. “—is that we both care for her. I understand if you don’t want anyone else to know about me and (Y/N), and I hope it will stay that way.”

“You don’t want me to tell anyone else?”

“Yeah,” Rafe smiled. “It’s bad enough I have to pull you away in the middle of my lunch. Can’t afford to do that with more people.”

“Is it because you’re embarrassed to be seen with her?”

“Can you do that for me?” Rafe asked, ignoring his last question.

“Fuck you, Cameron.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rafe laughed, patting his shoulder and watching as he flinched away. “I think I’ll see you around more than we both want to, Maybank.”

“Hey,” (Y/N) whispers, placing a hand against his shoulder. “What’s wrong? You’re in a daze.”

“You’re not mad at me anymore?” He asks, tilting his head up. That was quick, but he likes it. She can never be mad at him for more than 30 minutes.

She crosses her arms, “You want me to be mad at you?”

He shrugs and pulls her to his lap. “You’re hotter when you’re mad.”

. . .

If there’s one thing Rafe’s sure of, he hates parties when he will be the one to clean up the mess the next morning.

Ward and Rose are out for the weekend for their anniversary, and Wheezie is somewhere for a summer camp she has been begging Ward to go to.

Like always, Sarah Cameron takes this opportunity as a way to host the biggest party of the year, inviting all of her pogue friends and letting Rafe do the honor of inviting the kooks.

(Y/N) walks in with her best friend, having to pretend to not be so familiar with the whole house as if she’s not dating the son of Ward Cameron.

“Yo, this house is huge.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) agrees, walking towards the drinks area and grabbing boozes for her and her friend. “Hey, I’m going to see someone, can you wait for me down here?”

Before she can walk away, Sarah Cameron appears excitedly and pulls her into a tight hug. “(Y/N)! What a surprise! JJ’s outside, if you’re looking for him.”

“Trust me, I’m not looking for him,” she laughs, “Have you seen Rafe? I, um, I called him up before for some stuff.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s on the porch,” she replies, and before (Y/N) can make a move, she holds her tightly. “Be careful. He’s got the heaviest stuff with him.”

As if she doesn’t know that.

She smiles, muttering her thanks before heading towards the porch. It’s hard to pretend to not know who Rafe is after spending her whole year with him.

Sure enough, Rafe is sitting by Topper’s side with his other friends surrounding them, his hair messily parted and his nose red. She sighs, knowing exactly what state he’s in.

“Yo, Maybank,” Topper laughs, pulling the empty seat beside him. “Come sit.”

Rafe looks up to the sound of her name, and before she can register the look on his face, he bows down again.

“Hey,” she greets, sitting beside Topper. “You’re okay?”

“This party’s the shit,” he answers, obviously in a drunken state, and pats Rafe’s back. “Yo, yo, you got the same ring as my boy right here.”

Topper grabs the gold ring hanging from (Y/N)’s necklace, bringing it closer under the light and taking Rafe’s hand. “Wow, are you guys soulmates?”

The boys around them laugh, and (Y/N) pulls her necklace away before anyone can guess anything. She watches as Rafe grunts, still so busy trying to separate the powder in lines.

“Wanna try a line?”

“She can’t, Topper.”

All eyes are on Rafe now, who’s rubbing his nose and licking his lips. Rafe never stops anyone from doing a line and even asked Wheezie if she wanted to try one before, so the words that came out of his mouth appear as a shock to all of them.

“Why?” (Y/N) asks, tilting her head to one side. If he doesn’t want to show her off to his friends, he might as well stop trying to control her life. She looks back to Topper, “I’ll try a line, Tops.”

Topper smiles, giving her a rolled-up 100 dollars bill and pushing his chair back to allow her in. (Y/N) takes the chance to brush her back against Rafe’s front, hearing his ragged breath all the sudden.

She bends down, giving Rafe the perfect view of her back, and snorts a line. She falls onto Rafe’s lap as he pulls her close, breathing into her sweet smell as she throws her head back from the sudden tingling in her stomach.

“Stand up,” he orders in her ears, “Stand up, (Y/N).”

Before Rafe can push her off, she stands up quickly and makes her way back to her previous seat. She only tried coke once, way before she met Rafe, and she had thought of it as nothing more but the last time she tried the substance. She prefers drinking to get her mind off since then.

“You’re joining the game later?” Topper asks, glancing down at her short skirt. (Y/N) mindlessly pulls her dress down, and throws her head back once again.

“What game?”

“Truth or dare,” he smiles.

“I don’t play children’s games,” she fakes yawn, “Are you playing?”

“I don’t think so,” he replies, licking his lips. “Like you said, I don’t play children’s games.”

Whatever Topper’s doing to get (Y/N)’s attention; it’s just not working. She’s way too head over heels for the boy beside him, who’s still red and flustered from the brief teasing she had for him a few moments ago.

“(Y/N), wanna grab a drink?”

Both (Y/N) and Topper look up to Rafe. He’s trying his hardest not to look at her again and busies himself with the powder. “You don’t look quite comfortable with Topper.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she replies, watching as his head snaps back to her. She licks her lips, “We’re alright, aren’t we, Tops?”

Topper nods, more than ready to have a fling with the pretty girl beside him, pogue or not pogue.

“Okay,” Rafe replies, “Whatever you say.”

Whatever (Y/N)’s doing to grab his attention; she’s doing a great job at it. Rafe’s jaw tenses at the sound of her laughter, and he has to look the other way when Topper’s hands sneak their way to around her shoulders.

He’s almost glad when Sarah comes to tell them something about the game starting. He sneaks to beside (Y/N), giving her a soft touch on her back, and off he goes to sit on the opposite side of her.

His mind’s still woozy, and he’s struggling to even open his eyes. The booming music still thrums against his eardrums, and the drinks he had earlier keeps every muscle of his active and ready to do anything crazy.

“You’re playing?” Someone asks him from the right.

What else can happen from a silly game of truth or dare?

“Yeah.”

Rafe hopes (Y/N) isn’t playing, because he knows the stupid things his friends would ask her. Always being the topic of his friends’ conversations, he’s clear with their intentions towards (Y/N).

And he’s not making any of it a reality.

“Topper, truth or dare.”

“Truth,” he answers, and Rafe’s eyes snap back to (Y/N). Surprisingly, her eyes are already on him, her stare so pierced that Rafe has to shift his position to ignore the aching in the pits of his stomach.

Rafe doesn’t care enough to listen to whatever his best friend’s saying, and his eyes stay on (Y/N). The girl smiles at him, and his eyes trail down to her chest.

Of course she would wear something like a top that doesn’t cover half of her chest.

He looks away, biting his lips.

“(Y/N)! Truth or dare?”

(Y/N) groans at Topper, crossing her arms and yelling ‘I’m not playing’. Her friends moan at her, pressuring her to keep the game going, and after a few pleas and more groans, she sighs.

She’s so easy to manipulate.

Rafe stares at her again, licking his lips.

“Dare.”

The crowd cheer, but the volume is down to mute to Rafe, who’s too busy having her glued to his brain. She looks wonderful under the dim lights, and Rafe wants nothing more than to have her screaming under him.

“I dare you to make out with the hottest person in the room.”

“Change the game,” Rafe says to no one in particular, sitting up straighter. “Change the game.”

“Yo, what?” Kelce asks, “What’s wrong with you?”

Rafe ignores his friend, and stares at the girl.

(Y/N) stands up from her seat and walks towards Topper, and Rafe can feel his heart stopping. His fear is coming to reality, and she’s so close to Topper they’re practically kissing.

He lays his head against the cushion, his heart aching.

“Yo, Rafe, it’s your turn!”

Rafe sits up straighter, rubbing his eyes and looking around the group as everyone else stares at him. He groans, feeling so tired and not having a clue where he have gone to a few minutes ago.

It might the aftermath of the coke, but it doesn’t feel as good as always.

How long did he pass out?

“Truth or dare, Rafe.”

“I’m not playing,” he mumbles, rubbing his temple.

“If you’re backing out now, you’ll have to pay a hundred bucks.”

What the fuck?

“Since when?” He asks, looking up to the random girl he has seen around the country club a few times. “That’s not the rules.”

“It is now.”

“Fine. Dare.”

Anything to put an end to this game.

“I dare you to do a line on Jessie’s back.”

The room grows silent, and Rafe can feel all stares at him. He blinks, trying to register what he just heard, and laughs. “Just a line?”

(Y/N) bites her lips. He wouldn’t do it, would he?

Somehow, JJ finds his way behind the couch (Y/N) is sitting on. He places a hand comfortably on her shoulder and watches her jerk. “You’re okay?”

She doesn’t reply, but JJ knows the answer all too well.

Rafe’s friends clear the table off from drinks and Jessie lays her bare back against the glass table. Rafe doesn’t look up to her to ask for permission or to give her any reassurances, and it feels as if he wants to do it too.

JJ’s grip around her shoulder tightens, “You should go.”

She shakes her head, staring at the scene before her.

The intoxicating powder is poured by an excited Topper directly on Jessie’s stomach, and (Y/N) feels sick to her core. She feels like screaming, because why wouldn’t he say no?

It’s not like a hundred bucks would be too much for him to stop playing.

Rafe dips his head to the same level as Jessie’s head, and (Y/N) stares at the girl bites her lips the same way (Y/N) does when Rafe’s close to her.

Except he’s close to someone else.

The crowd erupts into a loud roar again as Rafe finally stands up from the lines, his head becoming more bumping and his respiratory rate increasing.

The kook prince doing a line on some hot girl in Figure 8. 

What a headline.

His eyes look up to the people around him, but (Y/N) is nowhere in sight.

“Where is she?” He asks Topper. His hands found themselves wrapped around Topper’s shoulders for balance.

“Where is who?”

“My girlfriend,” he answers, not thinking much. “I have to go.”

“What girlfriend, Rafe?” Topper laughs. “Man, you’re in too deep. The game’s not finished.”

“I’ll pay the hundred,” he replies and makes his way out of the party. His sight is becoming so blurry that he falls by the side of the pool a few times before he sees the sight of her climbing JJ’s bike.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” He asks, standing in front of the bike and not letting JJ turn to the exit. “The party’s not finished!”

“Fuck off, Cameron,” JJ replies, blocking Rafe’s view of his girlfriend. (Y/N) stares down to her lap, not wanting to look him in the eyes, and Rafe’s breath hitches at the silence.

“What did I do?”

Before Rafe can hear any explanation, JJ pushes him down to the side road and he groans from the sudden impact. He looks up to the blonde and lunges for him, only for them to end up by the side of the road.

“Oh my god, stop!” (Y/N) yells, trying to pry her brother away from Rafe. “JJ, he’s not thinking straight. Let’s just go!”

“Don’t get near (Y/N) ever again!” JJ yells, his eyes flaring up in anger and his knuckles turning purple. “She deserves someone better than a cheating fuck like you!”

Out of all the responses Rafe can give to JJ, he lets out the coldest laugh, and the sound of his voice carries throughout the dark neighborhood.

“I’m cheating? She was cheating on me too!”

“What are you saying?” (Y/N) scoffs, “I wasn’t cheating, Rafe, I’m not you.”

“Yeah? The kiss with Topper?”

“That wasn’t a kiss! I gave him a peck on his cheeks!”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact you didn’t kiss me.”

“Is that why you’re acting like a dick? Because I didn’t kiss you when Tops asked me to kiss the hottest guy in the room?” She laughs. This whole thing seems funny all of a sudden after hearing Rafe’s side of the story. “I thought you want us to stay lowkey.”

“Whatever, can you get your fucking bodyguard off me?” Rafe replies, “And don’t call him Tops. It’s like you’re begging to get fucked by him.”

JJ makes a move again, but (Y/N) quickly pulls him away. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hands, and Rafe wishes he hadn’t said the words out loud.

JJ finally lets go of him and walks to his bike, feeling so tired but pumped at the same time from the brief fight with Rafe. He wanted more than anything for them to break up, but what just happened isn’t exactly what he had in mind. 

“So you’re going?”

“There’s no reason for me to stay, Rafe,” she replies. “You don’t even want to admit that we’re dating. Are you embarrassed of me?”

When he doesn’t reply, (Y/N) pushes his chest that he staggers backward, still so woozy and lightheaded he feels like fainting.

“Are. You. Embarrassed. Of. Me?”

Rafe stays silent, looking down to the ground and wishing the world would just swallow him up.

“Go to hell, Rafe,” she replies, and Rafe inches backward when her gold ring he had bought for her to match his own ring rolls down to his feet. He quickly looks up to her.

She’s not breaking up with him, is she?

If he felt like he has gone through hell before, this feeling is a lot worse. 

Part #2

 -

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

[saynotoshityouhate]

For Science Ch. 5

Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4

Words: 1781

Tags: angst, love, neediness, bathtub sex, he’s too big but (spoiler) we make it work.

It had been three days. Three long, agonizing days since Bruce slammed the front door and ran away. Yesterday he sent a text, asking if he could come home. Seeing his name light up your screen made your heart jump, so happy to know he was safe and coming back to you. You responded with an enthusiastic yes.

He’d never left like this before - you’d never had a fight or had a moment where his emotions took over so badly. Of course you’d welcome him back, you’d never worried he would hurt you. Not anymore - not since he’d found this new happy medium between his two personas. Bruce clearly wasn’t as confident.

It was hard having him gone for those first few days of your new job at the university, and you’d wished he’d been there to laugh at some of the silly mistakes you had made. His bellowing chuckles were some of your favorite noises in the world.

Pulling up the driveway after classes were through, you saw Bruce’s car parked back in its normal place. Your stomach flipped, unsure what to expect, although you were mostly excited to see him.

You quietly opened the back door, walking into the kitchen. Taking off your heels, you heard soft, muffled classical music and smelled lavender and citrus. You smiled, heading straight to the master bath. The door was cracked open slightly, and you could see the warm glow of candles dancing across the shiny tile walls.

You knocked quietly on the door and pushed it open gently, just enough to stick your head inside. “Bruce?”

Bruce’s head was resting against the cool tile behind him, his eyes closed and his breathing regular. He must have just fallen asleep, his large frame filling most of the oversized jacuzzi tub. “Bruce?” You whispered again, awakening him from his dream. His warm eyes met yours, taking a moment to focus and register that you were really there. “Y/N, I -“ Bruce rested his hands on the side of the tub, beginning to push himself up to greet you. “No, no - stay there, you look so peaceful.” You nervously played with the hem of your untucked blouse.

“May I?” You lifted your hands to the top buttons of your blouse, pausing for Bruce’s approval. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he nodded, adjusting his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose. You proceeded in unbuttoning your crisp white shirt, setting it off to the side. Your back was turned to the submerged Bruce, but you knew the slight shimmy of your hips as you stepped out of your skirt and panties would excite him.

You backed yourself over to the edge of the tub, presenting your back to Bruce. He loved unclasping your bra for you. He took pride in being able to do it with just a flick of his finger, and seeing the tension leave your back and shoulders filled him with warmth. You moved the straps down your shoulders and dropped it to the floor, reveling in the ease of domestic life with Bruce - even in this uncomfortable silence.

Lowering yourself into the bubbles across from him, you sighed. The last few days had been hard on you, you were worried about Bruce, had started your new job, and had been brainstorming on ways to reverse your boyfriend’s physical predicament. You stretched your legs out in front of you, resting them against Bruce’s thighs. He took one foot in his large hand, rubbing the arch with gentle pressure. Your eyes fluttered closed at the wonderful release.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry for how I reacted.” Bruce’s eyes were cast downwards in shame. “I was so upset with myself, I didn’t want to risk anything happening…” You interrupted him. “No, I overreacted. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m just happy you’re back.” You poked him with your other foot, asking him to do the same magic there as well.

“Where did you go?” You asked timidly, not sure you really wanted to know the answer. “I just went to the tower - Tony left my room as-is…just in case.” You made a noise of acknowledgement, your fingers idly playing with the bubbles that adorned your chest.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” Bruce extended a hand, inviting you to come closer. You accepted, allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I was scared, Bruce.” He held your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.”

You kissed him fiercely, as if you wanted him to stop talking before he gave any excuses or reasons to leave again. You couldn’t help the whimpers leaving your chest, three days was a long time for you two to be apart.

Bruce’s cock throbbed against you, eliciting a groan from the large man. “I missed you so much,” he mumbled, nipping and sucking at your neck and collar bone. Moving to straddle his waist, Bruce’s hands found your hips, helping hold you steady.

“I wanna try - I think I can do it - I wanna try.” You ground your hips against his hardening length, your breaths already ragged and uneven. You knew it would hurt, but you wanted to do this for him. You were certainly wet enough. “No, I don’t wanna hurt you, don’t-“

You had your mind made up. Your much smaller hand took Bruce’s from his waist, bringing it to your core. “Stretch me out, please. I need you.” He could never resist you. Slowly inserting one large digit, knuckle by knuckle, his eyes were trained on you, closely monitoring for any inkling of pain or discomfort. You were feeling nothing of the sort. Your head was thrown back, the stretch sending delicious shockwaves through your limbs.

“One more, please” you breathed. “Y/N, I-“ You shot him a look, like daggers from your irises. “One. More. Please.” Bruce sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He adjusted his fingers, slowly adding a second, drawing a moan from deep inside you. “I think - I think I’m ready. Please - give it to me? Let me make you feel good. Please?”

“Baby, I’m not sure about this. Let’s just start here, you’re taking me so well, maybe next time, we gotta take it slow.” You whined, loudly, and bucked your hips down onto his two, thick fingers. The water of the tub splashed over the edge. “Don’t wan’ take it slow, Bruce. Wan’ you - your cock. Puhleeeaase, Bruce.”

“The minute anything starts to hurt, you have to tell me, okay? Promise?” You nodded your head vigorously before pulling him closer and kissing him in gratitude. Bruce slowly removed his digits, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing but the bath water.

Bruce’s eyes were dark with lust, but still maintained the warmth of his concern for you. He held your gaze as he aligned himself with your opening. Every millimeter seemed to take an hour, your breath hitching in your throat as you stretched further to accommodate him. Bruce held your hips tightly, trying to maintain control and composure as you took him so well. It had been years since he felt the velvety warmth of a woman around him.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to move slowly and methodically. You focused on your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth - pushing out whines and whimpers along the way. You attempted to hide your face in the crook of his neck, but Bruce pushed you back, wanting to keep an eye on you. “You’re doing so well, my girl, look at you.”

Looking down, you expected to see that he had completely bottomed out inside you, but there was plenty more left to go. His hand held the base, not allowing you to go any further, if that was even possible. You smiled up at him, so proud of yourself, feeling so full.

Bruce’s heart swelled - and he could finally relax knowing you were okay…better than okay really. You began to rock your hips, exploring your body’s limits, feeling the push and pull of Bruce against your walls. It was worth the effort.

You established a comfortable rhythm, riding him slowly, but forcefully. The waves of now lukewarm water splashed around you, adding to the symphony of delicious noises you both were making - the feelings sending you both into nonverbal bliss. Bruce began to tense, and you weren’t far behind. The only one with a free hand, you reached down to access your clit, quickly sending shockwaves of pleasure ripping through you. You clenched down on Bruce’s girth as you climaxed, sending him over the edge with you. His guttural growl sent vibrations through your skin as he filled you up for the very first time. You collapsed into him, every muscle giving out from the pain and exertion.

Bruce held your weakened body in his arms, both of you exhausted beyond belief. The tub had turned cold and you began to shiver. Concerned, he held you tightly with one arm while he used the other to push himself out of the bath. You clung tightly to his neck as he walked you to the bedroom. Placing your down gently, he dried you off with a towel and handed you your robe to snuggle up into before returning to clean up the bathroom. Once you were dressed, you crawled back to the pillows aligned neatly on your bed and waited for Bruce to return.

Wrapped up in your fluffy robe, you nuzzled into Bruce’s chest. “Can I ask you a question?” Your fingers idly traced his chest, droplets of water still gripping the coarse hairs on his sternum. Bruce grunted in the affirmative, his eyelids were heavy the minute his head hit the pillow. “If you could, you know, switch back. Would you?”

Bruce hummed. “I mean, I’ve thought about it. Done some basic calculations, consulted with colleagues…but that was all before.”

“Before what?” You whispered, tipping your head to look up at him, his eyes still closed gently.

“Before you. Before our life together. Before I saw the way your eyes light up when I enter a room. You read about that sort of thing in books, right? But I never knew it was real. And me? Of all people? In this state?” You sat up, captivated by his words, tears welling up and blurring your vision. His eyes met yours, one hand tracing your spine, while the other held yours.

“So no. I’m not interested in changing back. I am Bruce Banner, I am the Hulk, and I love you.”

[the-bau-quinjet]

My Only Girl

Summary: request! Reader has to decide between keeping her secret and saving the man she loves. In the end, it's not a hard choice.

Warnings: violence/blood

Word count: 3370

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! I put a screen shot of the request at the end just because I didn’t want to give away the whole story :)

You never would have guessed that today would change everything. It started the same as any other Thursday. 

You were seated at your desk right outside of Tony’s main office working on his schedule for two weeks from now. Your music was playing softly through your earbuds causing you to bob your head as you read email after email. 

Suddenly, a Starbucks cup appeared in front of your face, a metal hand wrapped around the cup. 

You swiftly pulled the earbuds from your ears, turning in your chair to greet Bucky with a hug. 

“Hi.” You whispered into his chest during your hug. “You are truly a gift.” You smiled, taking the cup with your go to order. You press a quick kiss to his lips only to be pulled back in for a deeper kiss by Bucky. 

“Y/N, do you know when my next press conference is?” Tony asked, walking out of his office while still looking down at his tablet. 

Bucky let you pull back from him just far enough to answer Tony. “Next Thursday. You wanted to announce the new post-mission protocol for ‘Damage Control’.” You chuckled at the title, knowing Pepper was still trying to talk him into changing it. 

“Right! Thank you.” He finally looks up, taking in the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. “Barnes! Let her work.” He nearly whined, playing up the annoyance. 

“I will.” Tony leveled him with a pointed glare, looking between you and your computer. “I will! I just wanted to say good morning to my best girl.”

You scrunched your nose at the term of endearment, leaning farther back from Bucky to look in his eyes.

“You don’t like being my best girl?” He sounded genuinely concerned, earning a small chuckle from you. 

“I like being your only girl. Best implies that there are others, and though I would love to be the best of them, I don’t want there to be others.” You nodded your head resolutely, taking on a serious expression. 

“Please, you’ve had this man wrapped around your finger from the second he saw you.” Tony scoffed. 

“He’s right, doll. And you are my only girl. I love you.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss to your lips, letting you remove yourself from his arms to continue working. 

“I love you too. See you for lunch?” He nodded as he walked backwards to the elevator, keeping his eyes on yours until the doors closed.

“Wrapped around your finger, I swear.” Tony laughed when you glared at him, retreating back into his office to make some phone calls. 

-

Sometimes it’s really easy to pinpoint the exact moment everything went to shit. This was one of those times. 

22 minutes before you were due to meet Bucky for lunch, the red emergency lights started flashing with an accompanying alarm blaring in your ears. 

Friday announced “The compound is under attack, enacting lockdown protocol.”

“Shit.” Lockdown meant you needed to use specific codes to get into or out of any room. It definitely makes your life harder. 

Tony left to meet Pepper 15 minutes ago, so to your knowledge you were the only one on this floor. 

Glancing up and down the hall to double check, you swiftly enter Tony’s office, pulling up the security footage to see who you’re dealing with. Three different sides of the compound are surrounded by mercenaries clad in black fighting gear. 

You watch the screens, contemplating the best course of action to subtly help when one of the mercenaries pulls out a missile launcher. He aims it quickly, firing into the side of the building. 

You feel the walls shake as you watch part of the wall collapse, giving them an opening to enter the compound through. 

“Shit.” You run from Tony’s office, heading for the action without another thought even though this is definitely the biggest problem you’ve ever helped them with. 

You phase through the walls, doing your best to make sure nobody will see you when you come out on the other side of the wall. If all goes well, you’ll be back at your desk before anyone even notices you were gone. 

Your powers are a secret, even from the team. The powers that be, meaning your boss, don’t want the Avengers knowing they have an Angel on their side. It took you enough negotiating to get yourself assigned to this “project”, you were willing to do it without telling anyone that you are a angel. 

You basically had to beg your boss to let the Avengers be the people you watched over. Typically, angels are assigned to help those who can’t help themselves. Your logic for this assignment was that keeping the Avengers safe would, in turn, protect millions of other people. 

The one stipulation you faced when finally being assigned the the Avengers, was that you couldn’t tell them what you are.

At first, You had no problem keeping the secret. Being Tony’s assistant hardly meant spending ample time with everyone. You didn’t need to befriend them to keep them safe. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Overtime, Tony broke down your walls. He convinced you to go to one of his galas, ultimately starting your demise. One look at Bucky had your heart soaring. Not telling him the truth has been eating away at you ever since he first asked you to get dinner with him. 

You pushed your guilt to the back of your mind, refocusing on getting closer to the attackers so you could figure out what to do. 

Typically, you use your powers to slightly change the path of bullets or hold off a bomb for a few extra seconds. It gives the team enough time to escape, not necessary unscathed, but with recoverable injuries. Plus, it keeps your powers hidden. 

It’s hard enough to hack into the video feed from various super suits without alerting anyone, you were definitely concerned about how to keep your powers hidden while using them so close to everyone. 

You skid to a stop just around the corner, listening as two of the mercenaries instruct the others. 

“Split up. You know who we’re looking for. If you find him, report in. First priority is getting out of here with him alive. All else fails, kill him.”

Immediately, you’re mind jumped to Bucky. Of course, Hydra scrum could be looking for anyone to use as a weapon, but Bucky made the most sense. When would they finally realize they can’t control him anymore?

You used your powers to confuse the men, making it look like whatever blueprints they studied were outdated. It would hopefully give everyone else enough time to get here and fight them off. 

You hid in a closet when you heard people approaching from behind you. 

“Sam, find Wanda and get to the east side. Nat and I will handle these guys.” 

You relaxed at the sound of Steve’s voice, waiting for the group to disperse before sliding out of the closet.

You ran back through the compound, heading for the lab. It was the closest place for you to retreat to in order to look through the security cameras again. 

“Friday, give me a rundown of what’s happening please.” You looked between the screens, intently listening to the AI’s voice. 

“The east side is being secured by Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Wilson. Based on projected outcomes, they will have everything under control in 7 minutes. Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are fighting on the south side, near the blast sight. They will have the area secure in 6 minutes.”

You nodded, following along as you looked between the cameras. 

“The west side is secure. Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton have cleared the area and are holding off any additional attacks.”

“Good. Where’s Bucky?” You looked between the cameras, but couldn’t find him. 

“Sergeant Barnes is on the roof, engaged in hand to hand.”

“What the hell is he doing on the roof?” You panicked, clicking between camera angles until you could see him. 

There were ten Hydra agents on the roof, surrounding Bucky as he did his best to fight them off. 

“How did he get singled out so fast?” You mumbled to yourself, trying to think of a plan. They had Bucky backed up to the edge of the roof, slowly pushing him further and further. 

You could see what was about to happen nearly in slow motion. You acted quickly, not thinking about keeping your secret, but rather solely focused on helping Bucky. 

You broke through the window in the lab, wings appearing on your back as you flew to him. Just as you arrived, one of the agents shot him three times, propelling him backwards off the roof. Sending a shockwave over the roof, you knocked out the remaining agents as you dove, hurtling through the air to catch Bucky before he hit the ground. 

You grabbed him around the waist, lugging his body through the air with some difficulty. It wasn’t the most convenient position, plus you were slightly rusty from hiding your wings for so long. 

“Doll?” Bucky questioned, glancing at you through fluttering eyelids. “I knew you were my angel.” He whispered before his eyes fell closed, the blood loss getting to him. 

You swung around the building, re-entering through the broken lab window and laying Bucky on the lab bench. 

“Lifting lockdown protocol.” Friday announced, the noise barely registering in your ears. 

“Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers is requesting a check in from everyone on the team, would you like me to update him on yours and the Sergeant’s situation.” Friday asked. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” You muttered, not really paying attention to the question as you did your best to slow the bleeding. You haven’t tried healing anyone in years, so it was taking more effort than it should for you to fix this. 

You closed your eyes, hands hovering over Bucky’s body. Your wings were still present, although no longer fully extended. 

You channelled everything you could into healing Bucky’s wounds, drowning out any outside interference. Your hands began to glow, a warm golden light surrounding Bucky’s body as his bullet wounds healed. 

A few minutes passed as his wounds fully healed. You nearly collapsed from the relief of seeing him no longer bleeding out. His color was returning to normal, heartbeat speeding back up. 

“Y/N?” You jumped at the noise, turning around to see nearly the entire team staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide, hand still clutching Bucky’s as you stuttered in an attempt to come up with an explanation. 

“You have wings.” Wanda pointed out the obvious, everyone still wearing matching expressions of shock. 

You looked over your shoulder, nearly surprised by their presence on your back yourself. You had been so focused on healing Bucky, you forgot to hide them again. 

“Your hands were glowing.” Sam’s brow furrowed, looking between you and Bucky. 

You nodded, still unsure of what to say. 

Suddenly Steve barged into the room, unaware of the tension. He ran right for Bucky, yelling for someone to get a medic. 

“Why are you all just standing there? Friday said he was shot! Three times! Get a medic!” He looked at everyone in a panic before turning to look for wounds on Bucky. 

His brow furrowed as he tried to find any of the bullet wounds. “Wha- Where are the bullet wounds... He’s covered in blood, but not bleeding? Even we can’t heal that fast, what’s going on?” Steve turns back to the team, mouth slightly agape. 

They all point to you. 

Slowly, Steve turns finally noticing your presence. “Y/N?” He looks between the team and you again, a double take so fast it would have been funny if not for the situation. 

“You have wings?” He says it with much more confusion than Wanda’s point blank statement. 

You nod, voice still eluding you. You finally manage to get the wings to disappear. 

“Care to explain...” Tony asks, pointing to where your wings just were, your hands, and Bucky, “All of that?” 

Before you can reply, Bucky jolts awake with a groan. 

“What the hell?” He looks around the lab, taking everyone’s confused faces. Even Nat looks surprised. “How did I get here?” He rubs his abdomen, slightly sore from the bullets. 

Everyone shakes their heads, looking to you for answers. 

“Y/N?” He turns to you, hand squeezing yours slightly. “You were an angel. I thought I was dying...” He trailed off, trying to makes sense of everything in his head. 

“An angel?” Steve balks. Everyone else nods, various expressions of understanding on their faces. 

“I mean, that makes sense.” Nat chimes in, ready to accept it. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that ever happened.”

“What?” Bucky asks, sitting up on the counter. “She’s not actually an angel. I just saw that as my... I don’t know, dying wish?” His face scrunched in confusion, trying to make sense of what he saw. 

“Well, I’m not dying and I saw the wings. And the glowing hands.” Clint speaks up, turning all eyes back to you. 

A voice in your head is suddenly booming. Your hands fly up to the sides of your head, trying to dull the ache of the screaming voice in your mind.

“Y/N L/N, you have broken the only rule bestowed upon you. According to contract 71, you are no longer permitted to enter the Angel Realm. Any attempts to return here will result in termination of your capabilities. Misuse of your capabilities on Earth or any other planet will result in termination of your capabilities.” Your boss’s voice was instantly recognizable. 

You didn’t notice the team crowding around you while you doubled over in pain, rubbing your temples as the message repeated. 

“Ugh, why did you have to say it twice?” You suddenly stared up at the sky, annoyed with the whole system. 

“Um, who said what twice?” Banner finally entered the lab, having been avoiding any anger inducing scenarios. 

Before anyone could jump in with what little knowledge they had, you started talking. 

“My Boss.” You winced, looking at Tony as he raised a brow. “My other boss... well, I guess not anymore. My former other boss.”

“Which is...” Tony gestured for you to continue. 

“Maybe you should all sit down, this could take a while...” 

Everyone followed as you lead them to the kitchen and living room. 

“Okay, I’ll just jump into I guess.” You took a deep breath, looking around the room at everyone’s curious and slightly impatient expressions. 

“I’m an angel.” You nodded, trying to reassure yourself that it was okay to say out loud. 

“Yeah, and? We figured that one out fifteen minutes ago.” Tony huffed, wanting more information. 

“Four years ago, I found out about the Avengers.” You looked at all of them, nervous for their reactions. “Angels are supposed to protect those who can’t help themselves, but I wanted to protect you all.”

“Why?” Steve asked, eying you curiously. 

“Would you all stop interrupting and let her explain!” Wanda whisper yelled, gesturing for you to continue. 

“It’s a valid question. Um, I guess I just thought you all put your lives on the line to help everyone else and I wanted to do what I could to help you. I convinced my former boss to let me come here. I told her protecting you guys would protect all the people you were bound to save, and that’s a lot of people.”

Everyone nodded, seemingly taking in the information. 

“I wanted to tell you. I really did, but it was my only rule. I wasn’t allowed to.” You nervously wrung your hands together, biting your lip as everyone took in the information. 

“That’s why it’s former boss?” Nat questioned. 

“Yes. She fired me?” It was a question to your own ears. “I’ve never heard of an angel being fired before. That kinda sucks.” Everyone chuckled at that. 

“And that was why you doubled over in pain in the lab?” Bucky questioned, concern in his voice. 

You nodded. “Yeah, she has a habit of yelling in my head. And she always says everything twice.” You glared at the ceiling again, knowing she had probably moved on from you already. 

“You’re not mad?” You looked back at Bucky, practically forgetting about everyone else in the room. 

“You caught me after I was shot off of a building and then healed my three bullet wounds. I think you’ve made up for the secret.” Bucky smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You nearly burst into tears at the relief you were feeling. “Oh thank God.” You squeezed him as tight as you thought he could handle, needing to feel him close to your for a second. 

You then turned to face the rest of the team, giving them an equally nervous look. “Are you guys mad?”

“Well, I didn’t get any magic healing.” Sam huffed, a smile on his face. 

“Nobody flew me around the compound.” Tony added on. 

“But, you can fly?” You gave him a confused expression. 

“Dammit” Tony muttered, thinking on his feet. “Tell you what, tell me what else you can do and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal... Maybe we can meet back here in half an hour?” You looked at their bruised and bloody bodies. “You all look like you could use a shower, and I for one would love to get this blood off me.” You gestured to the blood covering your jeans and shirt.

-

A half hour later, you were back in the living room. Tony ordered pizza, everyone crowding around the coffee tables and couches. 

“Alright. Get to it!” Tony called out, excitement clear in his voice. 

You stood up, turning to face the crowd. “Well, you know about the wings.” Your wings extended from your back with a woosh, spreading out before settling in a resting position. 

You heard various mutterings as everyone took in your wings in their full glory. You then floated slightly above the floor, wings gently flapping to keep you suspended. 

“How’s it feel birdman, her wings are part of her.” Bucky jested at Sam, a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, well mine are bulletproof.” Sam sneered, a smile on his face. 

“Actually,” you winced, “Mine can be bulletproof. Basically, I can do whatever I want, but only for short periods of time. Like if someone surprise shot me, it would hurt. But if I was prepared, it would bounce off.”

“Wow.” Steve looked at you, a mixture of surprise and wonder in his eyes. 

“Um, I can also walk through walls, create shockwaves, move things with my mind, hack into any computer- although it takes some actual knowledge to not leave a trail... I mean, I’m pretty strong, but I don’t have much training for fighting hand to hand or anything. Oh, and mind manipulation? Not like mind control or anything, that is definitely frowned upon. Just... like earlier I made the Hydra agents forget the blueprints so they wouldn’t be able to get around the compound as quickly.” 

Everyone jumped in with questions. You answered every single one, talking well into the night. You did your best to give examples of your powers, like moving the rubble around to fix the giant hole in the south side of the compound. 

After a few hours, Bucky cut in. “Guys, she’ll still be here tomorrow. Wait, you will still be here, right?” He looked at you in a panic.

“Yes, unless you all want me gone, I’m here to stay.” You smile at them. 

“Good. Now as I was saying, she’ll be here tomorrow. Ask her the rest of your questions then. Hell, make a list if you want. Just let me take my best girl to bed.” Bucky pulled you up from the couch, leading you out of the room. 

“Goodnight!” You called back to the team before turning to Bucky. “What did I say about being your best girl?” You playfully hit his side. 

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you while you waited for the elevator. “I’m sorry. My only girl.”

“That’s better.”

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

[spencerreidsconverse]

Connected

summary: Spencer visits reader at work for their lunch break, but tension curbs their appetites

word count: 2.1k

warnings: Smut!!! Degradation, Unprotected sex, Use of pet names, semi-public sex (in an office).

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: This is a sequel to my previous fic Connection but can also be read as a stand alone!

Spencer walked into the cafe, trying to keep his nerves to a minimum. He knew you already reciprocated his feelings so there was no reason to be so anxious. Between his ever-changing schedule and your dedication to the cafe, you’d agreed to have lunch at your work so you could finally see each other again. It wasn’t the most romantic first date, but given that you’d met when he was hunting a psychotic killer who was coming for your neck, it fit quite well with your previous interactions. Despite his efforts, when he saw you taking a customer’s order his heart began to pound and he had to really try to catch his breath. You were easily the most breathtaking when you were in your element. A smile on your face, your apron tied and held with a pin, and your voice like a songbird. He waited for you to be done with the orders you had stacked and a few short minutes later he saw you pull off your apron and make your way towards him.

“Hey, Spence! How’s your day been?” You leaned in and kissed his cheek, earning one of his pretty boy smiles. He kissed your forehead in return. “Hello, my love. It’s been an underwhelming day compared to now. I’ve missed you.” You smiled softly at his words, leading him to a small booth towards the back of the shop where two sandwich boxes and two large paper cups sat. “I wanted everything to be ready so I could talk to you for as long as possible, I hope that’s okay.” You were suddenly afraid he’d be displeased with your choice of food but he quickly put you at ease with an enthusiastic nod. “It’s perfect Y/N.” You both sat at the table and began to eat, discussing the week that had passed since he’d dropped you off at your apartment. He asked how you’d been feeling and if you’d noticed any other side effects from your injuries. You quickly soothed his fears and told him you’d felt fine except for a little bit of stinging on your wrists.

You were a few bites into your sandwiches when one of your employees, Alexandria came up to you. “Hey Mama, do we have quarters in the back?” You cocked your head at the question and nodded at the girl in front of you. “Yeah, we should. Did you go check?” She gave you a simple shrug before thanking you and making her way back behind the counter as another customer came through the doors. You turned back to Spencer to apologize for the interruption but instead, you were met with his smirking face. “What’s so funny Dr. Reid?” He kicked at your shin softly at the mockery of his honorific “Just that I teach a college class and this is still the most watched I’ve felt by a bunch of kids in their early twenties.” You looked at him wide-eyed before turning around just in time to see your employees make a horrible attempt at looking busy. One of your assistant managers was pretending to wipe the register screen off with her bare hand, avoiding eye contact like the plague. “You know what, why don’t we finish our lunch in my office” you proposed, rising from your seat before Spencer had the chance to respond. He followed your actions and you had crossed through the counter when another of your employees, Max stopped you. “Y/N Wait!!! You can’t go back there, what if we need you??” He gave you his best attempt at puppy eyes in hopes that you’d pity him but you eyed him with false annoyance.

“That’s why I hire managers Max. I’m sure if you all put your meddling aside and actually focus then it’ll be a quick thirty minutes. If any of you knock on my door, there better be blood or fire. Got it?” They all nodded dejectedly and went back to their respective stations to straighten up while you continued back through the hallway that led to your office. Spencer moved aside to allow you to unlock your door and flick the light on. You pulled the seat opposite to your computer and desk chair around so they were both on the same side of the desk before resting in the smaller one. Spencer quickly joined you, careful not to knock into the computer on his left. “You weren’t kidding when you said they were like your family were you?” You shook your head with a smile “of course not. As much as they get on my nerves, they’re the sweetest kids I’ve ever met. They respect how much I care about my business and they do their jobs with diligence. I couldn’t run the company without them and I make sure they know it. When you have mutual respect, the workplace is a hell of a lot more fun, dontcha think?” Spencer nodded, smiling at your small tangent. “Of course, the BAU has been my family for a long time now, I know exactly what you mean.” Your conversation continued lightheartedly for a few more minutes when you reached up to push a stray curl out of his face.

He turned his head to face you and before you could take in another breath his lips were pressed against yours passionately, placing a hand around the back of your neck. You pushed your chair out away from the desk and swiveled his chair so you could climb into his lap, reattaching your lips as fast as you could manage. His hands slid up your thighs and rested underneath your dress on your bare hips, toying with the waistband of your panties, leaving a trail of fire where his hands lingered. You in turn pushed down into his lap, feeling how hard he was through his trousers. You whimpered into the kiss softly at the groan you managed to elicit from his mouth, but before the moment could continue you heard whispers and one poorly muffled giggle. You ripped away from Spencer long enough to yell in the general direction of the door. “Are you working right now? I swear to god if I get up there and there’s a single customer all of you will stay late for inventory.” That was enough of a threat and you heard footsteps scampering away. “Are you sure you want to do this here?” Spencer asked you, nervously eyeing the door again. “Yeah, as long as you can stay quiet Dr. Reid.” You eyed the man with a smirk and he tangled his fingers in your hair to pull you close to him in return.

“Sweet girl… I’m not going to be the one with that problem.” You moaned at the tugging sensation and before you could muffle it yourself he pressed your mouth against his own again, pulling your panties aside and running his finger against your folds, earning another muffled moan as he gathered your wetness. You ground down against his hand and he chuckled at your eagerness before slipping a finger inside of you. You broke your kiss to catch your breath but he instead began to curl his finger against you, knocking what little breath you managed to cling onto out of your lungs. “Spence… god Spence you feel so good.” He smirked at how fast you were falling apart around him. “Y/N I thought you said we had to be quiet? Look at you, you became a whimpering little mess so fast. You just needed to be touched huh?” You nodded pathetically against his shoulder where your head sat and let out a gasp “Spencer please… I want you inside me”

He nodded and lifted you up, placing you on the desk before you could process you were in the air. “Y/N unless you have a condom in your desk drawer, how do you wanna do this?” “I’m clean and I have an implant. I’m okay with it if you are Spence.” He smiled and kissed you softly for a few seconds, letting you enjoy the sweetness before returning his two fingers inside you, making you moan out against his mouth. He pulled your panties all the way off and broke the kiss to shove them in your mouth “I have to make sure you stay quiet for me baby girl.” You let out a moan both at his words and the taste of yourself flowing through your mouth. He kissed down your neck and pulled up your dress far enough to run his hands over your bra before wriggling his hand underneath the band, grazing over your nipple. You moaned through the fabric in your mouth and he removed his fingers from you, making you whine. You heard the clank of metal before you felt him press against your entrance. “You ready for my cock angel?” You nodded rapidly, and let out a long moan as he pushed completely inside you.

“God you feel so good baby. You’re so good for me” You felt your eyes roll back into your head at his words that matched his thrusts deep inside you. “Fuck Spence - You’re so deep inside me.” He grunted and wrapped his hands around your hips, pulling you harder back onto him. A few minutes of him slamming you into the desk passed while you both fought to keep quiet, his hips stuttered and he moved one of his hands down from your hip to rub small circles on your slit, making you whine. “I want you to cum with me, baby girl. I want you to cum all over my cock sweetheart.” You nodded at his words as you felt yourself nearing the edge of your climax. You wrapped your own hand around his wrist that was left at your hip “Spencer, I’m gonna cum. I want your cum inside me baby” you let out a long moan when he rubbed your clit faster, feeling his thrust deep inside of you. “I’m gonna cum inside you sweet girl. My good girl” He let out with his final few thrusts before you felt his cum leak into you. “Fuck baby.” He let out a shaky breath and laid his head down against your chest. “You’re so good for me baby. Are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, feeling the last of your high wear off. “God that was… amazing Spence.” You slowly sat back up with his help and redressed slowly as he did the same, cleaning up your desk with the cleaning wipes. You finished dressing and sauntered over to him, wrapping your hands around his neck. “That was by far the best lunch break I’ve ever had.” He smiled and dropped the cloth into the wastebasket, placing his hands around your waist. “I must say I agree with you, except for that now I have to leave.” He said sadly, kissing the tip of your nose.You met his lips and kissed him deeply for a few seconds. “Yeah, I need to get back out there anyways. I’ll see you later?” He nodded and pecked your lips again. “Yes. Sooner than later if I have anything to do with it.” You smiled at his remarks and let him pass you to make his way out of the office and back to the BAU. You followed a few feet behind him and went back behind the counter as he made his way towards the door. “Spencer wait!” you heard Alexandria call to him. He turned around to meet her gaze and she smirked slyly “Does this mean you’re our daddy now?” His cheeks turned beet red and you gasped. “Alex! What the hell??” Spencer let out a chuckle and shook his head, taking your scolding as his opportunity to make it out of the shop. You struggled to hold your laughs back as you scolded her but failed and you both began to giggle. You took the empty shop as a chance to text Spencer. 

“I’m the only one that gets to call you Daddy <3.”

A few minutes pass and you busy yourself with checking your stock when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“Damn right, Princess. Feel like joining me at my apartment for dinner tonight?”

You smiled, excited for even more time with the man.

“Of course! What’s on the menu?”

“You.”

You felt your cheeks blaze and you placed your phone back in your pocket, resigning yourself to count down the hours until you could see him again. Finally, as you were locking the door your phone buzzed again with a new message.

“Here’s the address. Apartment 23. Hurry up angel, I’m starving ;)”

[dreamerstreamer]

Burnout

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: Working nonstop leaves Clay officially exhausted. Too bad he doesn’t know when to call it quits. Luckily for him, you do.

Warnings: depictions of anxiety + exhaustion + burnout

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: this was inspired by some of my own personal experiences. please get some rest if you need it. i hope you enjoy!

Clay awoke to the sound of meowing in his ear and a paw prodding at his cheek.

Letting out a small groan, he shifted, vaguely aware that his cheek was pressed against something cold. He reached up in front of his face, his fingertips meeting soft fur. He blinked an eye open, his hand rubbing at his bleary vision. Little by little, the fogginess slowly parted to reveal Patches’ olive green eyes peering back at him. The moment his gaze met hers, she meowed, swiping at his face again.

“Stop,” he croaked, surprising himself by how dry his mouth was. Almost immediately, Patches took a step back, meowing once more at him before hopping off the table and vanishing from his line of sight.

He raised a hand to his throat, swallowing uncomfortably. Slowly, he lifted his head from the desk, taking in the sight of his desk set-up. While his monitor was dark, it was his laptop that was lighting up the cluttered mess that had become his studio. Off to his right sat his green water bottle.

Right. His water bottle had been empty for—

His eyes darted to the clock, squinting. The numbers 1:47 AM flashed back at him.

—six hours.

When did I knock out? he wondered to himself, rubbing at his temples. Two hours ago? He shook his head. Well, doesn’t matter, now. Gotta finish the new plug-in.

He reached over, nudging his mouse with his elbow. The moment his cursor moved, his monitor came to life, light flooding the dimness of his room. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the glaring brightness of the screen with the back of his hand.

His code was still open, the line having cut off in the middle, the open bracket hanging wide, waiting to be completed and closed.

He grimaced, the gears already whirring in his head as he stared at the ticking clock on his screen. He needed to have the plug-in coded by tomorrow—or, well, today—so he could send it off to George for their scheduled test run. Not to mention the video he was only halfway finished editing he wanted to upload in two days’ time.

He dragged a hand over his face, a low groan rumbling in his chest. Just then, there was another low growl, this time coming from his stomach. He glanced downward at his hoodie pocket, something sharp digging at his insides.

Well, first, it seemed like he would need some food.

He pushed back his chair and pushed himself onto his feet, wincing at the way his muscles ached. They were definitely sore from not having been used in god knows how long, now. With another sigh, he turned, pushing the door open to his studio before climbing the stairs.

It only took a few moments for him to find the kitchen. He fumbled with the light switch for a second before the room was suddenly flooded with light. He winced, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Oh god,” he muttered, his throat feeling raw, “it’s so bright.”

A few seconds later, he peeked through his fingers and lowered his hand, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. As soon as he could see clearly once more, he dragged himself over to the cabinet, pulling the door open to peer inside. Empty space stared back at him, and he frowned. We forgot to go grocery shopping.

A snack-size bag of chips and two cups of instant ramen stared back at him, almost tauntingly. After staring for another moment, he found himself pulling out one of the two cups, eyeing it dubiously before shrugging. It’ll do. Flipping open the kettle, he quickly filled it with some water before setting it to boil. As he waited, he grabbed a pair of chopsticks and tore open the cup cover, fishing out the flavour packet and tearing it open with his teeth. Just as he was pouring the flavour powder in, he heard a voice behind him.

“Clay?”

He froze, then felt something in his chest soften. He turned, mustering what energy he had to send you a smile. “Hi, [Y/N].” At the sight of your bleary eyes, his smile drooped. “You’re still awake?”

You yawned, holding a hand over your mouth. “Mhm. Hungry. I’m just grabbing a snack, that’s all.”

Behind him, the kettle whistled. He quickly removed the top, then turned back to send you a knowing look. “Me too.”

You strolled over to the cabinet he had looked through earlier, frowning as you let out a sigh. “I’ll go grocery shopping this weekend,” you murmured, reaching for the chips. “Anything you want?”

He cast a glance at the chips in your hand. “More chips?” he offered softly. “I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it.”

You bobbed your head and pulled the bag open, immediately sticking a chip in your mouth. Clay let the sound of chips crunching fill the air as he poured the boiling water into his noodle cup, stirring absentmindedly as you quickly finished the bag. After a few moments, he eagerly raised his chopsticks to his lips, a whirlwind of flavour filling his mouth. The noodles didn’t particularly help with the dryness of his mouth or his tiredness, but at least he wasn’t hungry anymore.

The two of you ate in silence for a while. At one point, you finished the chips and threw out the bag, but he wasn’t quite paying attention. He felt his toes curl beneath him as he shifted in an effort to keep himself awake, but he could still feel the exhaustion pulling at his ankles. He wished he was asleep, he really did.

Just then, you spoke up. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, snapping out of his tired daze. “Yeah,” he mumbled in between chews. “I’m just a bit tired.”

You pursed your lips, leaning back against the counter as you eyed him up and down. “You look more than just ‘a bit tired’, Clay.”

He swallowed, averting his gaze from yours as he focused on shoveling more noodles in his mouth. His eyelids burned, weighed down by bricks made of exhaustion. “You think so?”

You didn’t answer, only staring at him for a few moments longer as he finished the cup of ramen. He didn’t even have the strength to think about the tension pervading the air. As soon as he was finished, he set the cup down, ignoring how heavy his arm felt. He felt your eyes on his as he rinsed out the empty container before tossing it in the recycling bin. He turned, your gaze locking onto his. Irritation prickled up his spine at your expression.

“What?” he said, his tone coming out harsher than he intended. A flicker of guilt ran through him, but it quickly dissolved into weariness once more. Whatever. He was tired. It didn’t matter. Right?

To his surprise, you didn’t flinch like he thought you would. Instead, you took a small step toward him, your hand reaching up and forward tentatively. Your fingers brushed against his cheekbone, and the moment your palm met his skin, he nearly melted into your touch. How long had it been since his shoulders felt so loose? He couldn’t recall.

“Clay,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheek, “will you come to bed with me?”

His breath hitched. Sleeping? Now? He couldn’t afford it—even a single lick of sleep would throw him off entirely. He needed to finish his code and finish editing that video for the day after. He couldn’t just sleep, now.

He sent you a smile, hoping it didn’t look as sad as it felt. “Sorry, love, but I have a bit more work I have left to do.”

You blinked, your lips curling downward. Your frown bit into him harder than he would have liked. Slowly, you pulled your hand back from his cheek, something disappointing flashing in your gaze. “Okay,” you said quietly, turning to walk out of the kitchen. “Please go to sleep soon, though, alright?”

He nodded, but the action didn’t fully register in his head as he watched you disappear from his line of sight. Already, he missed your warmth against his face, and he had half the mind to change his mind and go to bed with you right then and there.

But the deadline hanging over his head wrapped a fraction tighter around his throat, whispering into his ear like a menace. “You don’t have time.”

Indeed, he didn’t.

Shutting the kitchen lights off, he slipped back down the stairs once more, striding back into his studio. He collapsed into his chair with a grunt, shaking his mouse as his monitor came back to life. He cracked his knuckles once before settling his hands back on the keyboard, focusing his attention back on the open bracket once more.

He wasn’t sure how much time he spent typing, opening and closing Google as he ran into bug after bug. The longer he stared at the screen, the more his brain felt like it was slowly getting the life sucked out of it. He had only completed another dozen lines of code or two when something tore him out of his focus.

“Clay.”

His thoughts came to a jarring halt in his head. He turned, spotting you leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest. A concerned expression was plastered to your face, and he nearly fell out of his chair. “[Y/N]? Why are you still up?” His eyebrows knit together. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I sent George a text,” you said abruptly, your eyes scanning his face with a wary look, “and he said he doesn’t mind doing the test run another day.”

Clay’s mouth fell open, a wave of shock rolling over him. You... what? Swallowing, he closed it, shaking his head slightly. Just because he didn’t need to finish the code didn’t mean he still didn’t have any work to do. “I still have to finish the video—”

“You can finish that another day, too,” you suddenly said, your eyes not leaving his. He saw your fingers curl into your pyjamas. “You know your fans will love it no matter when it comes out.”

Something welled up inside of him, something hard and cold that dug straight through his bones. “B-But...”

You simply tilted your head at him, a weary look crossing your face. “But what, Clay? Is there anything else?”

He paused for a moment, a pebble of shame dropping into his stomach as he shook his head. “No,” he admitted quietly. His heart burned uncomfortably between his lungs. “But I could always get a head start on—“

“Clay,” you said sharply, not missing the way he jumped, “don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?” You lowered your arms and your voice grew quiet, something pained flitting across your features. “This is killing you.”

He stared at you, the light of his monitor making your face glow in the dimness of his studio. As much as he tried, he couldn’t think of another rational justification for staying up. He had no other immediate tasks, no other projects he needed to work on in this moment. He had no reason to stay awake any longer.

And yet, deep down, something anxious and angry thrashed in his gut. Sleeping now just felt wrong. It was almost as though it was a crime, as though he would somehow fail if he didn’t keep working. After all, if he didn’t keep working, then what kind of creator was he?

But the longer he stared at you, taking in the sight of your pleading eyes and worried frown, he felt something else overtake him entirely. A different kind of sinking feeling settled over his shoulders, and he swallowed.

“[Y/N],” he said honestly, suddenly feeling vulnerable and very, very sad, “I’m tired.”

Your gaze softened, and he almost wanted to cry. “I know,” you said, soft and sincere.

With quiet steps, you made your way over to him, stopping just in front of him. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against your stomach as he let out a shaky breath. You didn’t move, simply raising a hand to pat his head. For a few moments, he simply leaned against you, feeling his eyes sting and burn with a mixture of fatigue and sadness. Was he really that tired?

“You put too much responsibility on your own shoulders, Clay,” you murmured, your hand leaving his head. “You’re allowed to be your own person. You’re allowed to spend time to yourself. You’re allowed to take care of yourself—you need to.”

You pulled back slightly, and he raised his head. His lungs felt like they had tied themselves into a knot in his chest, but the moment his eyes met yours, he could suddenly breathe clearly again.

“Please,” you said, “come to bed with me.”

He blinked. Then, he nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t miss the smile that stretched across your face as you reached over to save his code, turning off his monitor. As soon as the studio filled with darkness, you slipped your hand into his, tugging him out of his chair and up the stairs. He didn’t remember walking into the bathroom, but you were suddenly shoving his toothbrush in his hand.

“I’ll wait for you in our room,” you said, “okay?”

He nodded again, still too dazed to fully comprehend anything. He only half remembered brushing his teeth, spitting out the toothpaste as he rinsed out his mouth in the sink. Before he knew it, he was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, his eyelids already drooping. You were sitting on the bed, your legs curled beneath you and the blankets pulled back for him.

The moment he stepped inside, you lifted your chin, tilting your head at him. “You done?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but cut himself off with a yawn. Wiping at his blurring vision, he nodded. “Mhm.”

The pleased grin you sent him made his heart swell with affection. “Perfect.” You patted the space in front of you. “C’mere.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he walked forward and climbed onto the bed, settling his head back against the pillow as you pulled the sheets up over him. After a few seconds of shifting, he finally settled down, his shoulders sagging as he let the tightness seep out of his body and into the bed.

“Comfy?” you asked softly, your voice washing over him like a soothing melody.

He shifted his head slightly, his legs curling further into the warm blankets. “Very.”

He could only imagine the soft smile on your face, a fond look filling your eyes. “When’s the last time you slept before four o’clock?”

He thought for a moment. If he had the energy, he would have shrugged. “Can’t remember. Must have been a month ago, or something.”

He could hear the frown in your voice. “That’s not healthy, Clay.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, feeling his lips curl slightly. “Probably.”

There was a slight pause, then he felt your hand in his hair. In an instant, he had melted into putty on the mattress, tilting his head slightly toward you. “You can only run on sheer passion for so long,” you murmured, dragging your fingers through his hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. “People need rest. And good food. And warm hugs. And love.”

He blinked, slow and lazy. “Love?” he repeated.

You hummed. “Yeah.” Dipping your head, you pressed a kiss beside his ear, whispering, “Lots and lots of love.”

He nodded ever so subtly, his head sinking further and further into his pillow. “Love,” he whispered back, caught in a dreamlike haze.

Your fingers scratched against his scalp, and he let out a tiny sigh. “You still with me?”

“Mm,” he mumbled, “not really.”

Your hand stilled for a moment, then carried on. “Good. Go to sleep, Clay.” He could hear the soft smile in your voice. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He said something back, or at least he thought he did, but he had drifted too far to care at that point.

This was nice. He missed this.

That night, Clay fell asleep with your hands in his hair and a smile on his face—feeling warm, safe, and oh-so loved.