#bun bouncing around and knocking over everything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jobean12-blog · 2 years ago

Text

After the Fall

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 6,399

Summary: Bucky is your first love...your first everything so when things fall apart in college over a stupid misunderstanding you’re completely heartbroken but manage to move on...that is until your past comes back in a way you least expect it.

Author’s Note: When Bucky and reader are dating they are at least 18 and when they reconnect their age is up to you- but they are obviously adults. The type of jobs mentioned are also up to interpretation- it’s a business thing for sure but as far as details it’s up to you! I had this whole moodboard planned to show the progression from young Bucky to now but I suck at them so instead I stuck some pictures in the middle of the fic to give you an idea :) And the first pic is what he looks like now hehe 🥵Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some angsty parts over past events, both Bucky and reader have lots of feels, there’s soft fluff and sweetness, i-m-pl-ie-d s-e-x-y times, f-in-g-er-in-g, some light d-i-rt-y ta-lk, Bucky is delicious of course lol

You pace your apartment and try not to fiddle with your outfit any more than you already have. It’s only seven thirty am and you’ve been up since six. You still have an hour and a half before you have to meet with Steve for your first official day of work.

Maybe you should leave now…New York City public transportation can never be trusted. The office building is only a fifteen-minute train ride but just to be sure…

Twenty-five minutes later you find yourself sitting in the lobby of the large building, your face to your phone and your foot bouncing rapidly. Several people walk by and you barely notice them, keeping an eye on the time and carefully sipping your drink.

But then you hear heavy footsteps and a hushed voice, one that sounds almost familiar and just as you look up you catch the retreating back of a tall man, broad shouldered and with long dark hair neatly tied into a bun at the base of his neck.

You stare until he disappears inside the elevator, your whole-body tingling with awareness. Could it be your past has finally caught up with you after all this time? Or is it just the constant lingering feeling of what you never truly got over?

Just a coincidence. It has to be.

After several blinks you check your phone again and decide it’s time to head up to Steve’s office.

The receptionist outside his office greets you warmly before picking up the phone and letting Steve know you’re here.

You knock, even though you don’t have to, and wait until you hear Steve call you inside. When you open the door you notice he’s quietly speaking to someone and due to your sudden onset of nerves it doesn’t register that it’s the same man from earlier until he turns around and his ocean blue eyes meet yours.

Eyes you know. Eyes you had fell in love with a long time ago.

Your stomach plummets to your toes and you must look like a deer caught in headlights because Steve stands suddenly and rounds his desk.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks but your eyes are still glued to Bucky.

Steve calls your name and you finally look at him and swallow hard with a nod but your eyes flicker back to Bucky when he starts to move toward the door.

Bucky says something to Steve that you don’t register and already has one foot out the door before Steve stops him.

“Hey Buck, wait a second. I want to introduce you to our new executive assistant.”

Bucky stops short, still facing the hallway and slowly turns, plastering a fake smile on his face.

Steve gives him your name and you hold out a shaky hand.

The moment his skin touches yours you feel him over every inch of your body and a flood of memories assaults you, leaving you almost speechless.

“Bucky is my partner,” Steve says proudly.

You manage a small hello and quickly pull your hand back. Bucky looks away, nodding to Steve before leaving the office.

Steve’s eyebrows are drawn in with concern as he moves his gaze back to you.

“That was weird,” he mutters, studying you and you think he’s waiting for an explanation.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted anything,” you say softly.

“Not at all,” Steve answers with a warm smile. “Now come and sit. Let’s get you set up for your first day.”

You visibly relax and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you’ve worked hard to get this position and you won’t let anything, not even your first boyfriend, your first love…your first everything, get in your way.

Thankfully the rest of your first day goes smoothly with no sign of Bucky and you have enough work to keep your brain busy and focused.

It’s when you get home, toe your heels off and fall onto the couch that the day catches up with you, breaking like a wave against the rocks and you sink deeper into the cushions with a groan.

Your cell rings, pulling your from your thoughts.

“Hey Nat,” you say tiredly as you greet your best friend.

“HOW WAS THE FIRST DAY?” she says, far too loudly.

You wince but a small smile pulls at your lips.

“It was great. Steve is so sweet and I was busy all day but kicked ass.”

“I knew it,” she says. “But I get the sense there’s more…”

She waits, always patient and far too perceptive.

“What do you mean more?” you ask, trying to sound easy and breezy.

“Babe,” she admonishes. “I can hear it in your voice.”

When you don’t elaborate she says, “I’m here and ready to listen when you want to talk.”

Her kind words are all you need to hear before you sigh heavily and blurt out, “Bucky works at the firm. He’s Steve’s partner.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Nat?”

“Wow,” is all she says.

“I know.”

“Are you ok?” she asks, her voice tentative.

“I will be,” you answer, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Dare I ask…how did he look? It’s been so long!”

The image of him flashes in your mind but it’s blurry and mixed with the younger version of him you know from your past.

“Honestly, I don’t even know. I barely registered more than his eyes. I was in shock.”

“Understandable,” she says. “Want me to come over?”

“No but thank you. I’m just going to take a bath and go to bed. I have the rest of the week to get through.”

“Ok babe. Call me if you need me.”

“I will, thank you again.”

Once you have a warm bath running, bubbles dancing along the surface and the calming scent of lavender filling the space, you sink under the water, hoping to wash away the day and maybe even some of the past.

The phone at your desk rings and you answer with your well-practiced greeting, smiling when you hear Steve’s voice. He lets you know he’ll be out of the building most of the day, handling some meetings downtown and that Bucky will be here should you need anything.

You hang up and square your shoulders, refocusing on your computer screen and doing your best to push Bucky to the back of your mind.

It works until an hour before lunch when you get a notification for a meeting. The e-mail doesn’t give you many details, just a time and place to be. Silently praying it has nothing to do with Bucky you gather your lap top and bag and make your way to the top floor.

The office door is closed but you can hear voices and when you knock and hear Bucky say, “come in,” you instantly tense up.

He repeats the words and you finally find the strength to push open the door.

Three sets of eyes turn your way, only one of them familiar. The other two men openly admire you and you have to force yourself not to sneer at them.

Bucky must notice because he says, “gentleman if you don’t mind we have business to conduct.” His words are firm but harsh and the two other men clear their throats and look away to absentmindedly fix their ties.

You step inside, shutting the door behind you and sitting at the small conference table.

A shadow appears over you and you look up to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“I need you to take minutes for the meeting and…”

The rest of his words fade away as you finally take a moment to get a good look at him. His voice is deeper now, his suit filled out with muscles he didn’t have when you were younger and his hair…his hair is long enough to brush his shoulders.

His presence is overwhelming, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body and making them buzz with memories.

“You still with me?” Bucky asks, a cocky smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

You nod and look down at your computer.

The meeting lasts about an hour and you do your job perfectly regardless of the fact that your heart is in your throat and your stomach is in knots.

“Thanks gentleman,” Bucky says as the two men get up to leave.

They both glance your way again with matching smiles and one of them opens his mouth to speak but Bucky quickly interjects.

“Meetings over.”

They leave without another word and you and Bucky are alone in his office.

You can feel his eyes on you and when you look up at him his jaw is clenching and his eyes are hard.

“Small world, huh?.”

He grunts, which you take as an agreement.

“I didn’t know you were Steve’s partner,” you start, inwardly berating yourself for the quiver in your voice. “This was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”

“I can tell you know what you’re doing,” he says, leaning over the table. “This is all strictly professional.”

“Right,” you agree.

He stares for a moment longer then dips his chin before saying, “I’m going to lunch. You can see yourself out.”

You’re left staring blankly at the empty space he just occupied, the silence he left behind deafening and filled with so many unspoken words.

“Better day today?” Nat asks, this time from the couch beside you.

“I sat in on a meeting Bucky was conducting.”

“Oo,” she says, pouring you more wine.

“He looks so good Nat. Even better than before and I didn’t think that was possible…his hair is long now.”

She lifts her eyebrow and smirks. “Better huh? Well, he must be losing his mind over you.”

You smile at her in thanks but shrug. “He couldn’t have left his office quicker if I had set him on fire,” you joke.

“Are you ever going to talk about what happened?” she asks, eyeing you from over the rim of her glass.

“What’s there to talk about? We were young. When we talked about going to different schools he made it sound so easy. We’d visit every weekend. Be together every break and talk every day on the phone. But then…things just happened.”

“What things?” she asks gently.

“I kept hearing from other friends that he was studying,” and you make air quotes with the word, “with some girl named Sharon from this classes. I never asked about it because I trusted him but then we both got busier and we had less time…he seemed distant, or maybe it was just me. Things started to fall apart. Then I met Matt…”

She smiles wryly at the mention of your ex.

“More wine please,” you say with huff.

The next two days go by without a hitch. Steve seems very pleased with your work so far and you start to settle into your role well.

However, things fall apart again when Friday rolls around and you’re standing in the hallway speaking to one of the gentleman, Brad, from the meeting earlier in the week. He found you on your way to the staff room and practically cornered you to introduce himself.

“So, you should come out with us tonight. It’s a good way to end the week,” Brad says.

He leans closer to you, into your personal space, and you take a step back just as Bucky rounds the corner.

Your back meets his chest and you lunge forward but you never get far because Bucky’s hands wrap around your waist and he hauls you back to him.

“Woah,” you say, freezing at the feel of his hands on you.

Brad laughs but it quickly fades when he sees the murderous look on Bucky’s face.

“What’s going on here?” Bucky asks. “Don’t you two have work to get done.”

Your mouth drops open with a sassy retort but Brad beats you to it.

“We just met in the hallway and I was inviting her to drinks tonight,” Brad says lightly.

Bucky turns his eyes to you. “I was just going to grab my lunch. It’s my break.”

Your tone is defensive and you lift your chin defiantly.

“That might not be the best idea,” Bucky starts, turning back to Brad with a smirk. “She’s a lightweight….one too many drinks and she might be…”

“Don’t finish that sentence Barnes,” you spit out.

Both Bucky and Brad look taken aback then Brad breaks the awkward stare down between you and Bucky with a question.

“Do you two know each other?”

Bucky keeps his eyes on you when he answers with, “will you excuse us Brad. We need a minute alone.”

Brad looks between the two of you. “Ok, no problem.” But before he walks away he says to you, “hope to see you tonight.”

Bucky glares at Brad’s back then gently takes your arm and hauls you down to the nearest office. He opens the door and ushers you inside.

“What is your problem?” you ask before he even shuts the door.

“Why were you talking to Brad?” he asks.

You groan and fist your hands at your sides.

“It’s just like he said. We met in the hallway and he asked me to come out for drinks tonight!”

Bucky grunts.

“What is it with all the grunting? And I can’t believe you were about to make some shitty comment about my drinking!”

His shoulders sag and his eyes soften slightly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that but….”

He growls and turns away from you.

“But you broke my heart doll!”

When he finally turns back your way there are tears shining in your eyes. At his words, at the use of the endearment he saved only for you and at the way he looks once again, like the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“Yeah, well…you broke mine too,” you whisper as you look down at your feet.

You stand there in silence for what feels like forever before quietly saying. “We have to work together now. We can’t let our history be a problem. I want this job. I’ve worked hard for it.”

He scoffs and meets your gaze.

“Friends?” you ask, holding out your hand.

He stares at your outstretched hand but doesn’t’ take it as he steps incrementally closer.

“History?” Is that what you’re calling it?”

His voice is a growl, low and powerful.

“Bucky,” you try again.

“No doll. I can’t do friends with you. I know what you taste like when you come screaming my name.”

The memories wash over you, making your skin heat and your head dizzy. You’re reeling between feeling aroused and ashamed and angry.

“I’m not friends with people who give up on everything and bail for something new and shiny.”

His words hurt, hitting right where he wants them but you gather your strength and remind yourself that you’re here because you should be and what happened between you and Bucky has nothing to do with it.

“Seriously? It was so long ago, Bucky. Something tells me you haven’t been locked away and pining for me all this time.”

Your eyes slowly devour every inch of him. “No, I think you’ve been just fine without me.”

“See something you like doll face?” he murmurs.

He stands up straight and tall, crossing his arms over his chest and causing the fabric of his suit jacket to pull tightly at his bulging biceps and his long legs are spread wide as he smiles sardonically.

You can’t stop your gasp before it passes your lips. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he mocks.

You don’t want to answer his question because it’s true. You do like it. More than you want to admit.

His long hair curls at his shoulders, neatly styled and framing a sharp jawline that’s lined with dark scruff, some spots even peppered with gray. His full lips are soft and kissable and his hands…you know what those hands are capable of. Long fingers that are now adorned with rings, the shining gold glinting under the bright lights of the office and drawing your attention, spread wide over his arms.

It’s suffocating but you can’t stop your blatant perusal.

Your eyes drop to his long legs and what’s between them, his suit pants straining against what’s behind his zipper, the thick cock that stretched you for the first time.

His smile is filled with arrogance as it widens into a grin and his gaze sears you, rooting you in place as he leisurely looks his fill.

“I certainly like what I see,” he says, licking his lips. “But none of that matters any more, right? Old news.”

“I won’t let you ruin this opportunity for me,” you tell him, willing your voice to stay even. “And I know Steve suspected something was up when I walked in the first day so don’t…”

“I already told Steve we have a past but don’t worry I didn’t tell him all the shitty details,” Bucky retorts. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He stands there with an expectant look on his face.

“Are you waiting for a thank you!” you almost shout. “I can’t believe it.”

You see his mouth opening to interrupt you, but you hold up a staying hand.

“Let’s just agree to be professional so we can do our jobs.”

You take a step around him but he blocks your way, his body large and imposing in the small space and when he leans down, his breath tickling your ear, and whispers, “I’ll see you on Monday then,” an involuntary shiver shoots down your spine.

He meets your eyes, his own sparkling with the same desire you know is in yours then reaches around you to open the door.

With a rush you shoot down the hallway and back to your office, silently praying no one caught you coming out of the room.

Once you’re safely inside with the door shut, you lean against it and finally let out a shuddering breath, swiping at your eyes.

“I’m exhausted,” you explain to Nat after telling her about the events of the day. “Even if I had wanted to go I would be asleep on the bar in minutes.”

“Well, just don’t let him dictate your social life. You have every right to go out and relax with coworkers. Especially cute ones. And you know I’ll come with you if you want.”

Nat’s words bring a smile to your face. “Thank you. Let’s just hope I can make it through next week.”

Later that night, after trying and failing to find something to watch that will keep your attention you crawl into bed and dream.

Your laid back on his bed as his stubble scratches along the sensitive skin of your neck and his whispered words reach your ears.

“You want my cock doll?”

You moan out his name, arching beneath him.

“Tell me.”

“Yes, yes I want your cock Bucky,” you purr.

His chuckle vibrates along your stomach as he moves lower. “Just need a taste first.”

“Please,” you beg just before his tongue flicks over your clit.

You push your hips into his face and he growls in approval.

“More,” you demand, and he obliges as one thick finger teases your opening.

You wake up just before he fills you, panting and disoriented. Looking around your dark room you can barely remember where you are. Or when. The past mixing with the present and creating something dangerous.

Your arousal is evident in the stickiness of your panties and you squeeze your thighs together in search of some relief. You sit up and take a sip of water from the glass on your nightstand, wishing it would quench more than your thirst. You consider finishing yourself off, it won’t take much, and he’ll never know, but you will.

Monday morning arrives faster than you’d like and you find yourself dragging your heels, literally, into the office.

You see Bucky in a meeting later that day and you notice him glancing your way several times, words and thoughts and emotions crossing over his face but you can’t decipher them.

The problem is you feel the same way. Confused and unsure…well maybe not unsure about everything. You definitely want him but that’s a line you know you shouldn’t cross, especially after the harsh words you exchanged last week.

The meeting ends and so does the day. And the next and the next until it’s Friday. It’s past five pm and you’re still in your office working on something for Steve. He pops his head in and tells you to leave but you wave him off and explain you’d rather get it done now and relax this weekend. He bids you goodbye once you promise not to stay too late.

You’re in the middle of a thought when the door opens again and without looking up you say, “don’t worry Steve, I should only be another hour then I promise I’ll go home.”

“Another hour and it will be dinner time.”

You look up at the sound of Bucky’s voice, your eyes wide and your lips lightly spread with surprise.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Thought you were Steve.”

He smiles and for the first time you can tell it reaches his eyes.

“I’m going to be done at about the same time…dinner?”

You stare at him, not sure if you heard him right.

“Unless you had other plans toni…”

“No,” you interrupt. “I don’t and uh dinner sounds good. I’m starving actually.”

“Great, then I’ll see you in an hour. There’s this little noodle place we can walk to from here.”

You smile gratefully, waiting until the door shuts behind him to let out a whoosh of air.

“I don’t see a table,” you say as you look around Bucky into the restaurant.

He grabs your hand and you ignore the tingles that shoot up your arm as he drags you through the place. In the back corner, there’s a lone table, small but empty.

He holds his arm out, gesturing for you to sit. “I usually come hide in the back here if I have work to do but need food,” he explains.

You sit and he follows, plopping down across from you. The table’s so small that his knees bump yours underneath.

“Ow,” you hiss.

“Shit, sorry doll,” he mumbles as he moves his chair, bringing him closer to your side.

“I forgot how big your are.”

Your eyes go wide as you hear your own words come out of your mouth.

“Man doll face, you sure know how to hurt a guy’s feelings.”

His tone is light and teasing but you look down, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fidget with your hands and try not to remember exactly how big he really is.

Thankfully the waitress stops by to ask for your drink order. Once you tell her what you want you sit quietly and peek over at Bucky.

He looks nervous and for some reason it makes you feel better.

You both start to speak at the same time then laugh over your jumbled words.

“Go ahead doll,” he says.

“I was going to remind you of how much we used to talk. Remember all those nights we stayed up late either on the phone or hanging out in our favorite spot on the roof.”

His eyes sparkle at the thought. “Of course I remember. There never seemed to be enough time.”

The waitress reappears with your drinks and sets them down.

“Still like that whiskey huh?” Bucky teases. “I remember the first time you tried whiskey.”

“Oh gosh, I try not to,” you groan.

He suddenly looks sad. “I’m sorry about that comment last week…about the drinking. And about most of what I said. It was harsh. It’s just. This is hard,” and he gestures between the two of you.

“I get it. Believe me.”

“What happened to us?” you say after taking a sip of your drink.

“So much,” he responds. “But I feel…”

His words are interrupted when the waitress appears with your food. You take a few bites, focusing on chewing and swallowing as you muster up the courage to say the next words.

“I never gave up on us,” you start, your voice pained. “I never bailed…I heard so many things…people were talking.”

“What did you hear?” he asks, his fork held tightly between his fingers. “What are you talking about?”

“People were telling me you were with Sharon all the time…studying…and I wasn’t sure what else. You pulled back, we talked less…I don’t know it just didn’t feel the same. I was losing you.”

“Losing me?!” he says, far too loudly for the space. He squeezes his eyes shut then continues, his voiced hushed but still angry. “I was just trying to keep my grades up. I was struggling. I missed you so much and I couldn’t handle it. My grades slipped and the idea of you thinking I was a failure was too much on top of everything else. Sharon was just helping me. Nothing ever happened between us.”

You stare at him, your eyes glassy as they fill with unshed tears. “I don’t understand. When I asked you to come visit so we could talk…you…you were so hesitant, I thought it was because you were going to break up with me and then…you never showed.”

“I did. I did show,” he says quietly. “But you were with Matt.”

“What?” you gasp. “When? How come you didn’t tell me?”

“I was too ashamed. I figured you had moved on to someone better, someone who was able to keep their shit together and I didn’t want to mess that up for you.”

“Bucky,” you whisper. “I wasn’t with Matt. We were just friends.”

“But it didn’t stay that way,” he says, his tone accusatory.

“No. But that wasn’t until I knew it was over for us. I was completely heartbroken and it never worked out with Matt. He couldn’t get over the fact that I was still in love with you.”

That knocks the wind out of him and the two of you sit there, staring and uncertain.

He abruptly stands, knocking into the table. “Come on, let’s dance.”

“What?” you screech as he grabs your hand. “There isn’t even any music. This is a restaurant!?”

You don’t fight him as he tugs you away from the table and to the other side of the small room and when you spot the jukebox you can’t help the smile forming on your lips.

“I should have known you’d take me to a place with one of these,” you laugh.

He looks over his shoulder and winks before he starts scrolling through the songs. He stops on one but you can’t see the name then presses a few more buttons before he takes your hand again and pulls you to him.

The music starts and you almost stumble into him, recognizing the melody immediately.

“Your favorite,” he says quietly, drinking you in with his eyes.

You sway together and he spins you slowly, his hand teasing along your lower back. He takes your hand and lays your palm against his chest as you move back and forth. It’s not really dancing, more like you’re pressed together, shifting on your feet.

When you move your fingers across his chest you feel his sharp intake of breath. Your eyes trace the movements as your hand spans his broad chest then grazes over the gold chain peeking out from the open buttons of his shirt.

“I like all this,” you say quietly, pressing the chain into his skin before you glance at the rings on his fingers.

“Glad to hear it doll,” he rumbles, looking far too pleased.

Your hand slides to his bicep and he flexes, smirking when you look up at him through your lashes.

“When do you have time to work out?” you whisper into the small space between you as your gaze wanders over his arms.

“Early in the morning,” he answers. “And you should see the rest of me.”

Need rumbles through his voice and you look up to meet his eyes.

“Bucky…”

He kisses you before you can finish the thought, stealing your breath. You freeze for a single heartbeat and then kiss him back with everything you have.

“Fuck doll.”

He wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling you against him and you lean into him willingly, a moan vibrating through you. His hand slips around to cup your throat, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he tilts your head back, deepening the kiss.

The music stops and you hear a few catcalls from some random guys at another table. It breaks the spell and you take a step back.

You start to panic and he can tell, his hands tightening at your waist.

“Doll…”

“No, we can’t.”

“Yes we fucking can,” he answers back. “We’re adults and we can do whatever the fuck we want. And make no mistake,” he continues, grasping your chin between his thick fingers to force your eyes to his, “I want you.”

You audibly swallow and sway into him. He holds you close, his eyes wandering over your face expectantly.

“I just…I panicked. I need a minute,” you admit.

He visibly relaxes and slides his knuckles along your curves to find your hand before taking it in his and pulling you toward the door.

“Where are we going?” you ask once you’re outside.

“I’m walking you home,” he says quietly, not letting go of your hand. “Just like when we were kids.”

You smile and press closer to him, loving the feel of his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The walk is mostly silent as your mind races to find the right words. You want this. Want him. But is it too much too quickly? It’s been so long but even so your body remembers him, has his touch memorized and seared into your skin and your heart…your heart has been full of him since the day you met.

When you reach your apartment building you stop. “This is me.”

He waits patiently for you to speak but when you don’t he asks, “so now what?”

“I want this. You. Us. I never stopped wanting it,” you confess. “But we’ve both hurt each other and I think we need to take it slow.”

“I’ll do whatever you want if it means you’re willing to give this a chance,” he answers. “But I can’t promise I’ll behave…I’ve been dreaming about being inside you for far too long and my hand just ain’t cutting it doll.”

You bite your lip, desire written all over your face even as you try to shoot him an admonishing glare.

“But we’ll start with a date,” he says softly. “And I know just where I’m gonna take you.”

With a small nod you lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering on the taste of his skin before you pull away and move from his embrace.

“Tomorrow?” he asks. “Or too soon?”

“Tomorrow,” you repeat.

“HE KISSED YOU?” Nat screeches and you have to move the phone away.

You’re nodding before you realize she can’t see you.

“Yes, right there in the middle of the noodle place.”

“Well?”

“Well what?” you ask.

“How was it?”

You sigh almost dreamily. “Better than I remember which I didn’t think was possible.”

“And you’re sure you’re ok with this?”

“I’m feeling so much but the thing I’m feeling most is the fact that I want him. I’m hoping it’s more than a physical thing. It feels more than that because to be completely honest I never stopped loving him.”

“I’m glad you’re giving this a chance,” Nat says. “Just go at a pace that makes you comfortable.”

“So I should have sex with him tomorrow…? Because I’m perfectly comfortable.”

You can hear Nat’s snicker. “Girl, if you do I better get every dirty detail.”

You giggle and cover your mouth, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

“Just keep them closed ok?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and hold tightly to his hand, stepping on the backs of his feet several times as he leads you to your date spot.

“Sorry Buck,” you laugh.

“It’s ok doll, just another few steps.”

You hear something metal creak open and then a blast of cool air hits your face. He throws his arm around your shoulder and tucks you into his side.

“Ok, open your eyes.”

You’re met with a scene that takes your breath away. It’s both familiar and new, the old roof top a space you frequented when you were younger but now it’s been brought to life in a whole new way.

Soft string lights hang from a make shift canopy where underneath you see a small chaise lounge that’s covered in a plush blanket and cocooned by fluffy pillows.

“Oh Bucky,” you gush. “You did all this?”

He smiles and kisses your forehead. “I remember how much you loved it up here.”

“It’s beautiful. All of it.”

“I have one last thing to show you. C’mere.”

He pulls you along with him and pauses near the old fire escape.

“Close your eyes,” he orders again, slipping his hands over them from behind.

You laugh and reach up to hold his wrists, fiddling with the gold bracelet that dangles loosely there. “What are you doing?”

“This,” he whispers along the shell of your ear.

He moves his hands from your eyes and you gasp and cover your mouth, but then reach out, tracing one finger over the etched lines in the metal.

Your initials are carved neatly into the rusted metal, still standing out against the weathered material after all this time.

You spin in his arms, your eyes falling to his lips just as you lick your own, his eyes tracking the movement.

“Thank you Bucky.”

And then you kiss him. He grabs your face gently between his large hands, nipping at your lower lip and you open for him without hesitation. You press into him and he slides his hands down your back, brushing his thumbs over the sides of your breasts.

You whimper his name, moving your lips to his neck to trace down the muscular column.

“Fuck,” he groans as he walks you back toward the chaise lounge. With a spin he sits down and pulls you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his.

You pull back, your eyes bright and your lips swollen.

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your whispered thanks gets lost in the moment as he dips his head and drags his nose along your skin, inhaling softly.

“Whatever you want doll. Anything, nothing. Say the word and it’s yours.”

His words are rough even as his hands move delicately to caress your body.

You lean forward, softly kissing along his jawline toward his ear, your breath fanning his skin when he squeezes your ass.

“Touch me.”

“Touch you where doll? You want me to fill you with my fingers?” You want my mouth. I’ll lick up every last drop of whatever you wanna give me.”

You tremble in his arms, tugging at the button down that hangs loosely over his shoulders, your fingers splaying over his exposed skin as he shrugs it off. You rake your nails over his tight white tank, desperate for more of him but instead he tucks his fingers under your shirt and pulls it up and off.

His large hand covers your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple through your bra and you arch your back, pushing your chest into his face.

Your hips rock, rubbing up and down over the hard ridge of his cock.

“I’m gonna come in my pants if you don’t stop that baby doll.”

You don’t stop. Can’t. And when his fingers pop open the button of your pants you grind down even harder, needing more.

His fingers move lower and he hisses at the softness of your skin before he finds you soaked and ready for him.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “More.”

“Right here?” he teases, lightly brushing his finger over your clit.

He spreads your juices all over you, coating his fingers and your skin until you’re completely wild for him, writhing as you try to fuck his hand.

Two thick fingers sink inside you, his rings hitting your skin as he meets every one of your thrusts, going faster and harder when you mewl for more with every stroke.

“Bucky. I’m gonna come,” you warn.

“Come for me doll. Come all over my fingers. Squeeze me tight.”

His words send you careening over the edge and you cry out his name but he doesn’t stop the slow pumping of his fingers, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

You collapse against him, your head laying along his shoulder. His skin is warm and soft beneath your cheek and you can’t help but press your lips there. You spasm on his fingers once more before he slowly pulls them free and brings them between you, staring at the glistening proof of what he does to you.

With a predatory gleam in his eyes he holds you gaze and pushes his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean one by one.

“Fuck doll, you’re so sweet. I almost forgot how good you taste.”

You turn your face to his as your fingers tip toe down his chest, catching on the gold chain that rests against his warm skin, before moving lower.

“What about you?”

He rests his hands over yours, stopping you from undoing the button of his jeans.

“Not yet baby doll. I want to at least give you a real date first.”

“Are you being all gentlemanly now?” you pout. “We’ve had sex up here before.”

“I’ll fuck this pussy anywhere and anytime you’ll let me, but you want to go slow and this is more than just fucking. It always has been. When I get back inside you, it’ll be because we’ve worked through all this shit for good, all the shit that never should have gotten in our way. And there won’t be any going back. You’ll be mine again.”

Even though you always have been.

@sstan-hoe @lookiamtrying @hallecarey1 @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @late-to-the-party-81 @randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @sebstanwhore @book-dragon-13 @littleseasiren @justkinsey @beccablogsthings @laineyreads

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

2K notes · View notes

heartelysia · 11 months ago

Note

hello ! im not sure if u take requests but if u do, pls do a choso x f reader where he breeds them... n makes them a mommy.. :3 choso brainrot im sorry 😭

this is super similar to a fic im getting ready to publish so im going to turn this into a thirst! if u dont mind .. °=° UGHHH I LOVE CHOSO!!

cw ; cum-stuffing, breeding, creampie, body praise/praise

choso is the type of partner to be so fucking whiny in bed, his cheeks dusted with a rosy pink as he sloppily slams his pelvis against yours in a desperate attempt at smacking your sensitive g-spot.

choso who ruts his hips into yours uncontrollably, whiny moans escaping his lips mixed with his soft praises, "g-god.. fuck! you're... youre so pretty baby.. god you're so fucking gorgeous", he slurs out, drunkenly thrusting into your sloppy cunt.

hes so pussy drunk his hands randomly wander all over your body, digging his blunt fingertips into whatever curves he finds whilst hammering his hips into yours. everything blurs together in the heat of the moment, the sloppy sounds of your sweet cunny hungrily swallowing his cock makes his mushroom tip throb against your g-spot. "so- so happy to be with y-you! 'm so luck.. lucky!"

choso pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, hitting your bruising cervix with every stroke. each time he bottomed out, he felt your walls deliciously rippling around him, sending electric shocks straight to his veiny cock. his pace quickened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his words come out in broken sentences. "i... i love yo- you...! shit- shit, go- god why are y.. you so ah.. perfect?," he growled, pulling out and pushing back in harder.

hes breathless each time his cock rips another whiny moan from your drooling lips. his hands hopelessly stuttering in its wake of dragging your soft flesh into calloused palms. choso's eyes are blown wide as they seem to only fixate onto your pretty face covered in a thin layer of sweat whilst his pupils catch a glimpse of your bouncing tits teasing him.

his hair loosely fell from his buns, framing his vision to only stare down at you - his beloved. a low, almost animalistic groan rumbles in his throat as his movements became faster and harder, his hips snapping against yours in tight rhythm. his fingers dig into your plush thighs, massaging them as he drove deeper into you as if he was lost in a deep trance.

god, choso thinks he hit the jackpot with you. sometimes he cant help but get nervous around you, you were just so perfect for him and possibly better in his mind, words just come out like vomit. "p-please- please baby.. please- please let me breed your pretty ah! p-pussy! w-wanna cum inside...!", choso pleads, uncontrollably rutting his throbbing cock till it smudges your cervix.

your hands immediately grasp onto the sheets behind your head, knuckles turning white as your body still registers the deliciously painful thrust of your partner grazing your cervix. a guttural groan escapes chosos lips when he feels your thighs tense up, his eyes desperately searched your glazed over pupils for any sort of conformation. whiny so prettily when your only response was a broken moan.

the sound of your moans filled the room, echoing off the walls. they were music to his ears, fuel to his fire. he picked up the pace, slamming into you rougher, faster, his cock carving its shape inside of you.

his hand releases its bruising grip on your soft hips, a cool burning sensation was left behind as his hand stumbles over to your breast, massaging and pinching your hard nipple between his calloused fingertips. "please... please b-baby! ngh- fuck! let me c-cum in you... b-beggin' to knock you up..!", he pleaded, angling his hips a little differently so his angry mushroom tip constantly grazes your sensitive cervix.

he loved the way you arched your back and cried out in pleasure when he did that. it turned him on even more, knowing he could make you feel this way. chosos eyes glimmer in delight when a high-pitched 'yes' made it past your drooling mouth. something in his brain clicked when your head did the weakest nod known to man.

choso grabbed your leg, lifting it up and hooking it over his broad shoulder, giving him better access to your weeping pussy. he plunged into you again and again, hitting your g-spot ruthlessly. you moaned and cried out in ecstasy, body shuddering and trembling underneath him.

"y- g'nna cum prett- pretty girl?", he bites back a moan when your sweet cunt ripples around his cock, "cmon.. shit- cum for me princess...", choso mumbles, reaching down to lightly press his thumb onto your nub. perhaps that was all you need.

the simple action of his calloused fingertip pressing up against your clit instead of his pelvis teasing it made the unbearable coil in your stomach to snap almost instantly. tears flow freely down your cheeks as your entire body freezes up, choso groans at the sight, the happiest smile on his lips.

and then, he felt it - the familiar rush of release coursing through his veins. even for himself, it was rather embarrassing at the broken moan he let out as his hips stuttered violently against your hole. your partner emptied himself into you, his hot, sticky cum filled you up, coating your insides with him.

for a moment, you both just rested there, hearts racing in unison. even in the afterglow, choso doesnt pull out, his cock still hard despite having just cum inside you. he smiled down at you, seeing the fucked-out expression on your face.

"mmm.. gonna plug you up so you will be carrying a miniature us around."

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #jjk thirsts #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

340 notes · View notes

writingchalamet · 1 year ago

Note

ross request 👀

basically y/n is friends with adam & carly and they’ve been trying to set them up for months with ross but something always happens (someone is sick, touring, etc.) but finally ross & y/n meet and it’s basically a match made in heaven

Adams Bestfriend

warnings: ☁️ v fluffy, babies if you consider them a warning!

A/N: this is soooo freaking cute

You had been a close friend of Carly's for many years, naturally becoming close with Adam over the years too. The pair having you over for any movie nights, dinners and outings. You loved nothing more than third wheeling the pair, and when their sweet baby came you practically clung to the couple even more. The two of them adored you and the way you were with their son. It was initially Adams idea to introduce you to Ross after hearing you complain to Carly all night about how terrible your date was, you had called Carly half way through asking her to come and bail you out which she gladly obliged, and after hours of venting, crying and getting wine drunk with Carly you fell asleep on their sofa bundled up in a blanket, head resting in Carly's lap. Adam sat next to Carly quietly chatting as she stroked through your hair. "Do you know who I think would be really good for her?" Carly's eyebrows raise as she looks at her husband with a quizzical look on her face "Ross..." suddenly her face lights up, eyes practically gleaming, "holy shit that's the best idea you've ever had!"

That was over a year ago now, the pair had tried numerous times to get you and Ross in a room together but to no avail, several plans had been foiled, neither of you actually knowing Adam and Carly's true intentions. You were supposed to meet at Christmas, but Ross had to cancel to see his brother. Then again for dinner at Easter but you double booked with your parents, and more and more occasions just like it, either one of you was sick or the both of you double booked, it was a complete disaster. But the one time you did finally meet was completely by mistake, Ross was round Adam and Carly’s babysitting for them, when you unexpectedly dropped by having forgotten your purse when you were visiting a couple days earlier.

You knock on their front door tapping in a singsong manner fully expecting to see Carly’s beautiful head of curls answer the door, only to be completely blindsided by a tall dark handsome stranger, you knew to be one of Adam’s friends answering. He was clutching onto baby Hann whilst he screamed bloody murder looking very distressed as he looked at you confused. “Hi, I’m y/n, Carly’s friend, I left my purse here the other night and was coming to get it but if it’s a bad ti-“ Ross cuts you off almost in a pleading notion “Y/n! Yeah They’ve mentioned you a bunch of times, come in, I think I’ve seen a purse in the living room” he sidesteps out the way to let you into the house, you slip off your shoes knowing Adam’s strict ‘no shoes on my carpet’ policy. You can’t help but wince at the screeching sound of the babies cries as Ross helplessly bounces him trying to get him to calm down. You spot your purse in an instant but the maternal instinct in you has you reaching out for baby Hann. “Are you okay?” You ask softly, trying not to pry but feeling genuinely concerned not only for the baby but for Ross’s sanity, knowing how stressful it can be the times you’ve looked after the baby not knowing of you’re doing things right, sometimes reassurance is needed. Ross sighs and turns to you fully, it’s now that you take him in fully, he looked tired, his hair was falling out of his bun, his shirt was wrinkled probably from holding the baby against him most the day, and his forehead was forming faint stress lines. “Uh, I’m not sure, I feel like I’ve tried everything and he won’t calm down, he’s not hungry, he doesn’t wanna play with any toys, I’ve tried listening to music, he doesn’t want me to sit down with him he doesn’t want me to be moving around, I just don’t know what to do” he lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, “here let me take over for a minute, you sit down” he would resist but the way you’re already two inches from him gently taking the baby from his grasp has him dizzy, so he takes a seat, he watches as you place the babies head on your shoulder holding around his back, patting his bum in a steady rhythm that has the baby soothed and falling asleep in a matter of minutes, “see, just exhausted” you give Ross a soft smile and join him sitting on the sofa next to him, “how the hell did you do that” he shakes his head laughing in disbelief “lots of practice, I have lots of nieces and nephews” you continue to sooth down the babies back as you settle down and get comfy on the sofa.

“So it’s nice to finally meet you” you smile staring across at the brunette who looks slightly more relaxed now. “Adam and Carls talk about me too? I hope you haven’t heard anything bad!” He winks at you, and you swear you feel a swarm of butterflies erupting through your stomach. “Nothing bad about you, Matty on the other hand…” you trail off as the baby stirs slightly, but you lull him back into his slumber by shushing and rocking him, Ross can’t help but admire you. “I really don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t have shown up here, maybe started crying myself” he speaks in hushed tones and lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t be silly, you would been fine, he would have tired himself out anyway, it’s just stressful to listen to when they’re in that mood and nothing you’ve tried is working” you place your free hand on top of his, gliding your thumb across the knuckles, you couldn’t help yourself, you almost felt drawn to him. He looks down at the your hand and smiles, turning his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze, a sort of silent gratitude. The two of you being too comfortable to take your hands away so you just left them there and chatted for at least an hour and a half while baby Hann slept soundly on the comforts of your chest. You got to know the ins and outs of each other feeling as if you had known one another for years. You hadn’t noticed Ross shuffling closer to you, or more so you didn’t mind as he slipped an arm around your shoulder so the three of you were close while you spoke in hushed tones, and you definitely didn’t hear the front door clicking open, and the quiet footsteps of your friends coming home to greet their baby, when they stubbles in on a sight and a half. Their best friends huddled up on their sofa whilst their baby slept safely between the pair, the two of them giggling at something the other had said, a squeeze of the shoulder, a pat on the thigh, their faces were close, it was everything Adam and Carly had hoped for when they wanted them to meet. The sight being almost too cute break, but sadly Carly had mummy fever, and had to see her baby. “Well, well, well… what’s going on here then?!”

And at the sound of his mothers voice, and frankly saved by the bell, baby Hann awakens and emits his cries for his mother and hunger. Saving you an explanation, for now. The two of you clear your throats as you struggle to separate from each other, Adam finding the scene particularly humorous to watch. You had the baby over to Carly who coos at the baby calming him instantly making Ross shake his head in confusion, “I told you Ross, he’s a ladies man” Adam chuckles walking over to his friend and patting him on the back, judging by the fact that his hair was falling all over the place and you were the one holding the baby that Ross had been struggling. “Honestly mate, that was the hardest babysitting gig of my life, if Y/n hadn’t of shown up, me and jr would have been joining you at dinner”

You laugh and sigh shaking your head “you weren’t doing that bad, you just needed to pat, not bounce” you wink at him this time and you watch as his mouth falls agape. Adam pats his friends back in sympathy but laughs all the same. “Well, I guess I better get my purse and get going, it was lovely to see you guys, and nice to meet you Ross… finally” you say the last word pointedly to him directly, grabbing your things giving Carly a quick hug and kiss before heading down the hallway. You hear your name being called just as you reach the front door so you turn and see Ross taking long strides towards you.

“Hey y/n, um this may be strange as we only met today, but I was wondering if I could take you out sometime?” You can’t help the raging smile that appears on your face making your cheeks ache, you nod instantly “yeah, yes that would be nice” Ross leans down to give you a hug and you hear a muffled “yes! I knew it would work!” From Adam in the living room making you chuckle and nuzzle your face closer into Ross’s warm and welcoming chest.

#fanfic #fanfiction #imagines #adam hann #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald x reader #the 1975 #the 1975 imagines #ross macdonald imagines #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald #ross x reader #teacher ross macdonald #george daniel #matty healy #matty and ross #Ross

170 notes · View notes

rogueshadeaux · 18 days ago

Text

Chapter Forty-One - Love Me Normally

“Impossible choices,” Garrett hummed, still looking down at the tile. “A soldier faced with terrible orders, the only Conduit who could prevent genocide…” They looked up to meet my eyes, stare pointed as they said, “A parent, trying to cure their child.”

9.6 k Words | 40 min - 1 hr read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: death, unreality, experimentation, child neglect/endangerment, mind...control? poisoning, torture, canon typical violence, erosion typical violence. Angst. Reveals :D

⚠ AUTHOR'S NOTE: the second half of the Garrett chapters and my excitement grows stronger, as now, I get to move on, finally, to what I imagined Erosion to always be—and that's thanks to Garrett and their amazing creator, @neverdewitt. Yet again I have to give credit where credit is due and thank him for the amazing character and the chance to let his OC be the one to pull the wool from Jean's eyes, and force her to stare the beast that is the past in its broken, bloody pupils. Thanks for letting me have Garrett, and again, sorry babes for having you wait this fucking long, love. I adore you!

Also....thank you @inhumanghostlight for the permissions. :) I love you as well!

“Dad!” I called out into the night, the sound bouncing back from the waters and ringing in my ears. No. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t him. I stood, rushing to the edge of the rooftop and trying to summon my water to help carry me down. Trying being the keyword.

But it never came.

And I couldn’t stop.

My feet skittered against the concrete of the rooftop, failing to find traction and instead making me slip, falling flat on my back and hitting my head against the hard floor. My legs flew past the edge and went further still, not giving me the grace of letting me get the stars out of my vision before the momentum dragged me off.

I shot out a hand and barely managed to grab the edge of the rooftop, slamming against the side as I held on for dear life. I choked, the hit knocking the wind out of me—but I couldn’t let go. I wasn’t enthused at the idea of plummeting 5 stories without my powers.

Hissing, I blinked back the tears from my pain, swinging my body to get my other hand to the ledge and try to pull myself up. But just as my hand came up, a black converse settled in the place I planned to grapple.

“Shit—“ I gasped; with nowhere to grab and no way to stop my momentum, I teetered hard, fingers on the hand that was holding me up beginning to slip. I wasn’t sure what Garrett was putting me through right now, but I knew I could feel. I knew pain was possible. And that drop was going to hurt a lot.

My fingers kept sliding, and I couldn’t find the advantage to get my other hand back up no matter how hard I tried. In fact, all thrashing around did was make me lose my grip further. I glanced up at whoever blocked me from grabbing the ledge with a scowl, blood freezing when I saw they were staring right back at me—and that wasn’t Garrett. Red pleated skirt, almost like the school uniform Linus Pauling used to make us wear before getting rid of the requirement. Ablazer, black hair pulled back into an immaculate bun and…a mask. A pure white, geometric mask of a rabbit.

I grunted, trying to keep a hold of the ledge as she just stared down at me. “Who—” I cut off, the weight of my entire body now on three fingers. “Who are you?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, the words came with another breeze, their airy tone familiar. “Mother’s favorite child,” Garrett’s voice whispered in the back of my mind.

I didn’t have time to mull over the words—I felt the knuckles of my last three fingers sliding, and I choked out “Help me,” to the girl, who just stayed glaring down at me. “Help me!”

She didn’t. She watched the breeze take me, not even flinching when I screamed as I fell.

There’s this strange dilation that comes with freefalling; it felt like time both sped up and slowed down all at once. Everything became so concentrated until the blood pounding in my head roared in my ears like a seastorm, and all I could hear were the war drums of my own heart rate.

I should have known it was too loud to just be some internal beat.

The fall was far shorter than it should have been, and I wasn’t at all where I should have been; I didn’t meet the dock nor sidewalk, but concrete, slamming so hard into the epoxy coating on top that I half-expected it to crack under me. I writhed in pain as my spine lit up, taking a moment to blink through the tears and will oxygen back into my lungs as I registered that I was, once again, surrounded by concrete.

And that steady beeping became prolonged and harsh as it hit a crescendo, holding its last note.

I propped myself up on my elbows, looking around; this…I think it was Curdun? To be fair, I didn’t know enough about Curdun to safely say so—but the dark concrete on all four walls, the ceiling and floor suggested as much. But this wasn’t like that cell from before, not at all. Everything was too pristine.

I shifted to my stomach, trying to push myself up off the ground as the steady note stopped, some sort of doctor fiddling with a machine in the room. He was staring down at a body strapped to a metal table with disappointment on his face, like he was more inconvenienced that this person just died on his table instead of the horrifying fact that they just died on his table. I shakily got to my feet in time to see the doctor pull EKG pads off of the Conduit’s chest, his pale skin adorned with red blood oozing from every orifice in his face and dripping back into his stark white hair. He was riddled with holes and gaps, tubing being pulled from him one by one as the doctor scowled down at the patient.

The test subject.

I heard of testing done in Curdun Cay long before I knew Dad was Delsin. Everyone did. It was one of those blemishes the history teachers would breeze over in class and you’d have to learn after seeing a survivor’s interview on television or some post on social media. I learned about it from a Wikipedia rabbit hole when writing a report on Delsin Rowe’s tag art and importance of civilian empowerment. Before then, I hadn’t known more than them being locked up. Even then, it was something disconnected from reality, or it at least felt like it.

There was something different in seeing the doctor rip a catheter out of this man’s veins like it was nothing, meant nothing. Like deboning a chicken.

“Shame.” A voice behind me said, making me spin in place. Augustine stood mere inches away in her classic Director uniform, staring through me at the corpse in disappointment. “I had hoped it would work this time.”

Being in front of her, so close to her, felt unnerving; every fiber in my being was telling me to attack first or suffer the consequences, and I would have had water already surrounding my hands if that was even a viable option here in…whatever this mental charade was. But she didn’t acknowledge how I bristled in place, how I backed up until I leaned against the same table the corpse was on—she acted like I wasn’t there. I guess, in some way, I wasn’t. If this was a memory, I was a spectre—like I was Ebenezer Scrooge and this was my fucked up A Christmas Carol.

It didn’t keep me from scooting sideways and away from her glare, though.

As I did, I realized Augustine wasn’t alone; just off to her right and three steps behind her, Garrett stood, just a year or two older than the last memory with them in it. Their hair was longer and the ends were colored in pink that stank of permanent marker, the closest they could get to a salon. They only glanced at the corpse before screwing their eyes shut and looking away, turning their head my way as their free hands clenched into fists at their sides.

The one closest to me, though, reminded me of Mei; short black hair cropped just before it could touch the shoulder, high cheekbones that made her monolid eyes defined and deep. She looked down at the body of the young man with her head cocked to the side, face curious. Her hands were free as well and constantly moving, playing with her fingers as she stared on.

“Initial signs were promising,” the doctor said, looking at Augustine. She was nearly 6 inches taller than him and seemed even more so, with the way he withered under her critical gaze as he delivered the news. “The device was implanted successfully, and initially was suppressing the subject's powers within expected parameters—however, prolonged exposure to the inhibitor was deleterious to the Conduit’s condition. The body began to experience threatened homeostasis, which made its HPA axis respond. Lack of power expression makes the Conduit gene continue trying to develop rayacitin, which in turn is prohibited by the device. The extreme stress caused hemorrhaging and cardiac arrest in this subject, which—with our direction to not intervene to see the device’s effects on the Conduit’s physiology…”

The doctor motioned uselessly at the dead body, like that was enough to excuse killing someone in the name of science.

Augustine looked displeased. “That’s unfortunate. I trust I don’t have to stress to you how much is riding on the results of these trials, correct?” She asked the doctor, eyebrow raising on an otherwise cold face.

The doctor nodded. “Yes, Director, I’m aware—but I need you to grasp the gravity of the situation: attempting to ‘switch off’ the Conduit’s powers is like playing with the delicate balance of their entire body. It's not just about controlling abilities; there's a real risk of their entire body breaking down. No Conduit can survive long-term with this device even if we adjust the model’s RFI abilities.”

“She knew the risks then. Before.” Garrett hummed in their youthful body, standing still behind Augustine with their hands still clenched into fists as their eyes raised to meet mine. “There was no real way to disable a Conduit’s abilities without pain.”

“Without results, I'll lose everything I've built here.” Augustine hissed. “There’s too much pressure from above to find a long-term solution to Conduits. I lose funding and the government takes over, all because you can't do what I need you to.”

Solution to Conduits?

“I know,” The doctor promised. “But Dr. Wolfe’s preliminary notes are rudimentary at best. We’re having to build more on his assumption that a Conduit’s power can be controlled via manipulation to the corpus callosum, but this is a science we simply don’t have access to. There’s no possible way to exploit the channel without having severe effects on the subject.”

Augustine took a step forward. “I didn’t ask about impossibility. I am not scrubbing DUP files and handing you Conduits just for you to tell me you cannot commit to the challenge, Bennet. This implant is the only reason we haven’t heard calls from the defense branch to defund Curdun Cay. Without results, we’ll lose everything we have here and these Conduits will be left in the hands of the military.”

“She was trying to figure out a way to get rid of Conduits?” I asked, looking over at Garrett. RFI abilities in an implant? It sounded like she was trying to cure them of their abilities, or whatever she considered curing.

They sighed. “She was trying to find a way to make Conduits safe enough for other humans’ comfort. To find them a freedom the government wasn’t willing to hand over loosely. But,” Garrett drew off, stepping out of place in formation behind Augustine and turning to another table on the opposite wall. They walked across the floor and hopped up to sit on the metal, crossing their ankles. “Mother had another motivation.”

The room got brighter, the sudden shine making my head throb yet again, and I cringed, screwing my eyes shut. Was that all outside stimulus making my head hurt, or was that Garrett playing with my brain matter?

Guess it really didn’t matter either way.

What did matter is by the time the pain subsided and I could open my eyes without cringing, the entire room had changed save for Garrett; the girl with black hair was gone, the guy with white hair no longer laid out on the other table and the doctor, Bennet, no longer hanging over him. Garrett was a little bigger now, hair just past their shoulders and tucked behind their ears as they stared blankly at the floor, face a controlled, blank canvas. There was a new doctor at the end of the table, conversing with a much-less stoic Augustine.

“—trace aggregated forms of alpha-synuclein. It’s practically unheard of in someone of Jorrer’s age, but with the family’s history of degenerative brain diseases, there’s cause for concern—”

“If it’s not common in their age, then what is causing the issue?” Augustine said tersely, the last few words punctuated at each syllable. Her hand was on Garrett’s knee, shoulders back and tense, and I swear for a moment I caught a flash of Dad in the same position just an hour ago. A parent trying hard to keep it together as they heard something devastating regarding their child’s health.

The doctor swallowed thickly, nervously stumbling, “We need to consider the possibility that Jorrer’s abilities are having an adverse effect on their cognitive function. We’ve yet to figure out how they drain for their consciousness powers. There’s a chance it’s…taking from their own synapses.”

I couldn’t believe it. “The implant was…was to help you?”

“Impossible choices,” Garrett hummed, still looking down at the tile. “A soldier faced with terrible orders, the only Conduit who could prevent genocide…”

They looked up to meet my eyes, stare pointed as they said, “A parent, trying to cure their child.”

I did not like the comparison there.

Garrett let me stew in the symmetry between our stories, continuing, “At some point, like all well-timed coincidences, the lines between the two blurred. The truth is, Jeanie—in a world like this, there are no heroes and villains. There never will be. Just impossible choices, and their effects.”

Garrett broke eye contact to instead look at Augustine, a strange sort of forlorn bleeding into their irises. “Her attempt to muzzle me was out of mercy as much as it was fear.” They said, and something in the corner of my eye moved. I spun around as screaming rang in the room, turning to see Augustine’s face go slack as Garrett glared at her, their gazes meeting. Blood began to trickle out of her nose as Garrett moves like they’re trying to sit up, one half of their head shaven and spliced, still bloody from the staples holding the skin together.

“Turn it on, turn the damned thing on and cover their eyes!” The doctor, Bennet, screamed, ripping off his facemask.

“Although, I think in my case, one fed into the other,” Garrett’s voice rang in my head as Augustine’s snapped back, a nurse using a face mask as an impromptu blindfold on Garrett. Augustine fell with the movement, dazed, collapsing on the ground before beginning to convulse as a seizure took hold of her. “The implant was insurance as well as treatment…but you heard the doctor. The hypothetical Wolfe explored in the past wasn’t a long-term solution.”

There was a scuffle behind me and I turned, instinctively raising my hands and waiting for the water that never came. Not that it mattered—the people there didn’t see me. “I don’t understand,” Augustine growled. Garrett was sitting slouched on the table, power cuffs on—and a black blindfold over their eyes. The metal of their cuffs chimed slightly with every small kick of their leg as they sat. “What do you mean the implant is failing?”

Bennet scowled, showing Augustine the screen of his small laptop. “It seems their powers go beyond mental. The device is showing degradation akin to someone who’s had an implant for decades. Attachment to the Substantia Nigra is nearly severed. With this sort of damage, it explains why the minuscule access they had to their powers has been augmented.”

“Augmented is an understatement,” Augustine hissed, “They managed to get three guards to kill each other.”

“The first time my mother tried to restrain me didn’t last,” Garrett uttered, head still hung. “Halfway through the second year, I’d managed to fix what she tried to break. I had nearly freed myself. Though…” Garrett trailed off, inhaling deep, “Not without paying a price.”

“The implant’s degradation may also be causing their worsening condition,” Bennet added. “Disruption of dopaminergic modulation is known to cause an increase in symptoms like theirs—the tremors, the seizures. Director, I’m advising immediate removal. We need to perform a thorough examination to figure out when exactly it stopped suppressing their powers, and why.”

Augustine looked displeased—and yet a hand reached out to run through Garrett’s hair. “Their disease worsens the more they use their power,” Augustine pointed out, sounding tense. Worried.

Bennet rolled his eyes as Augustine looked at Garrett, but tried to appear sympathetic when she glanced back up. “I’m aware.” He said. “But they’ll get worse if it stays in.”

“Impossible choices.” Garrett hummed yet again. Augustine’s hand left their hair and hovered by their blindfold for a moment before falling to her side. “Her attempt at mercy did nothing but make me worse. In some strange way, I like to imagine she carried guilt over her actions. That perhaps this was her sign that it wasn’t to be. That meddling with nature like this would cause more harm than good.”

Garrett’s head rose and turned towards me, seemingly able to see me through the blindfold. “She didn’t listen. Especially when the universe gave her the perfect opportunity.”

There was a loud and terrible grinding noise and fissures began to spread in the wall to my left, rocks clattering to the ground as the crevice extended, chipping away at the walls of Curdun Cay to reveal a hidden gem; the sight of Mount Rainier and the Seattle skyline outside of the clerestory window was just on the other side of a glass wall meeting room, the sort of ones that were in fancy office buildings where passerby could peek in as people gestured to the projector's images without disturbing the meeting. The concrete wall continued to collapse until there was a space large enough for me to climb through, and I glanced back to see if Garrett wanted me to go on when I realized I was alone in the room now.

Well. There really was nowhere else to go.

I moved over the concrete on the floor and up to the hole, ducking and stepping through the proverbial looking glass to whatever waited for me on the other side. The standstill of the office seemed to switch on from its frozen point; rain began to patter against the window to the meeting room, blurring the blue bruised sky of the settling nightfall.

I stepped into the office and the motion sensor lights immediately flickered on, the bright buzzing from the fluorescent lighting searing my eyes. That’s all it needed to force the rest of the scene to change as everything in my mind pulled together, the pulsing of my throbbing head the worst one yet. God, it felt like something in there was going to burst. I audibly groaned, pressing my hands into my temples to try and counteract the migraine, pushing against the swell in my mind as I doubled over. My nose began to run, and nothing I did to sniff it back worked. It was only after the worst of the pain began to ebb away and I wiped it that I realized it was blood.

“We’re running out of time,” Garrett’s voice whispered in the back of my mind, making me shiver.

“—here in Seattle will ensure the DUP will be funded for the foreseeable future.” Augustine’s voice said. I rose from my place, looking around the room; the walls on either side, the same ones I could have sworn were empty seconds ago, were now covered in notes, print-outs and stickies and printer paper covered in sharpie all mapped out like a conspiracy theorists’ daydream, tied together with that same red string. Pictures, all things I knew. Some of things I had seen before; DUP memorandums, surveillance photos of people who definitely did not know the photographer was there. There was one that was more pink than anything else, Mom forming from the neon streaks to kick a drug dealer in the chest. The image shifted, warped around a bit with that shimmering magic of Garrett’s power until it was Mom in DUP pants and a white shirt, brown hair tied back as she positioned the same way over Garrett to try and strike them down. “This will allow me to expand our facilities abroad. We have made excellent headway on establishing a permanent science facility in Australia.” Augustine continued, her voice coming from somewhere behind me.

I tried to turn my head and found that…I couldn’t. I willed it to, tried to tense my muscles—but nothing happened. A bubble of panic rose in my chest as I heard the footfalls of Augustine’s steps behind me and yet my body wouldn’t fucking move. Everything about this suddenly made me feel like I was trapped in a nightmare, unable to do a thing as the monster approached and I was trapped in my body.

“The work we’ve already done there using Dr. Sebastian Wolfe’s notes on the Conduit are, well, awe inspiring. Even to me.” Augustine hummed into one hand as the other settled on my shoulder. Electricity shot up my spine that my body refused to heed, the flinch inside not translating to my stature as Augustine sighed, moving to stand beside me. She lowered her other hand from her mouth, pressing a small red button on the device in it before looking at the board. Half of me wanted to run, dash away from this memory or vision or whatever the hell it was Garrett was doing…but there was another half that was overpowering that one that felt content. Calmed by Augustine’s touch.

“With Delsin Rowe taken care of, and this newfound discovery, we have everything we need for restoring the DUP to its full power.” Augustine hummed.

Unassured. That’s how I felt, or some part of me did, at least. My mouth opened without my consent, the words forced through my throat not sounding like mine at all. “You’re sure he’s gone?”

That wasn’t Garrett’s voice, either. Whose head was I in?

“He fell with the rest of the island in Elliot Bay, and hasn’t been seen since.” Augustine said reassuringly. “He’s no longer going to be a thorn in our side.”

My head lowered, the feeling registering two seconds after the movement was already happening for me, like my brain was rushing to catch up to whatever my body was doing. Those hands crossed at my abdomen weren’t mine. This body wasn’t mine.

But it was hard to repress everything I felt when I was in it. Every sensation, every thought. I was slowly losing me the longer I marinated in this person’s mind, and it became we with a stipulation that I was in the passenger’s seat, nothing more than a witness.

“Dr. Mathis has been able to confirm the status of the Conduit.” Augustine continued. Her hand came up to play with the hair of whatever body I was trapped in, tucking a loose strand behind my ear. “The ability to negate another’s powers’ effects. Merely being around a Conduit is enough to weaken their influence.”

My head raised as Augustine’s hand fell, a conscious effort going into correcting the posture of the body I was trapped in. “What are his attacks like?”

Augustine inhaled deeply. “Seems there are none. No physical ones, at least. His power extends to his being, and what he can touch. Nothing more.”

That doesn’t mean much of anything, I found myself thinking. Unsure whose thought it was as we melted into one. We didn’t voice that, though. “That’s a strong ability…” we drew off instead, leaving the end free floating and loose. Allowing Augustine to fill in the space, choose the narrative—as she always did.

She agreed, at least. “Which is why I’m giving approval for the detainee to be sent to our research facility in Purcell. If we can find a way to harness that ability? The DUP would never fall. We’d be a necessity for every government in the world to control their Conduit populations.”

Control. How we hated that word. “But the Conduit has no attacks—”

“Yet.” Augustine stressed. Her voice was sure enough to force us to look at her; she looked tired, a slice in her eyebrow healing steadily as we met her eyes. “I authorized compatibility testing to find a viable source to channel his power.”

Giving the Conduit attacks. Two powers. Not many were lucky enough to be given such a generous gift. “And if they find one?” We asked, looking up at Augustine. “What then?”

“Then the world knows nothing about this Conduit, and only sees results.” Augustine’s tone was set. Serious. Unwavering. “With no knowledge of how, they’ll be forced to accept our why. Why they need us, why the DUP cannot be unfunded.”

“You plan on using the ability on other Conduits.”

We weren’t asking. We were sure.

Augustine sighed. “It’s a necessity—”

Liar.

“A human would allow a wild animal into its home if it were defanged—”

Traitor.

“And it would be a stepping stone to ensure our kind’s safety.”

Our silence. Our extinction. They’d never be satisfied.

Our face stayed stoic as the angry thoughts rampaged through our head, screaming about how this was less fighting back and more complacency. Giving up our rights, our beings, to placate people who meant nothing. And eventually, those thoughts spilled over, and we spoke out of turn. “We’ve seen how dangerous suppressing a Conduit’s powers is. How can you be sure it wouldn’t lead to more instances like Jorrer?”

Augustine immediately bristled. “Do not mention them,” she hissed through gritted teeth. She never liked when anyone brought up her failures, and this was the brightest splashing of red in her ledger by far because of how deep the shortcomings ran.

We hung our head, staring down at our black and white shoes. Properly acted remorseful. “I’m sorry,” our lips uttered, holding the apology in the air like an offering. Waiting for her to take it.

Augustine’s exhale was shaky. “If this Conduit is able to give us a way to deactivate others without adverse side effects, then Garrett will be free from their burdens. So many others will be, too. This is vital to regaining control of the narrative. Giving the government proof that we have such capability now will buy us time.”

It would do more than that. It would lay down expectancies. Conduits would have to be disconnected from their abilities to gain a semblance of rights. To exist beyond four walls made of double-paned and bulletproof glass. There would be nothing beyond the announcement but the choice of imprisonment or inactivity, forced to mold into the ideal person, human, in order to earn the right to be alive. A right snuffed out. A gift thrown away.

“If we can find a physical element to match the ability,” Augustine continued, taking our seething silence as a cue to add to the conversation, “Garrett’s implant may hold merit. The aura of this Conduit is enough to mitigate abilities. Perhaps storing a piece of him in every Conduit would be enough to weaken their abilities.”

Every Conduit.

And we wouldn’t be spared.

Every second that passed without a response forced more tension into the room, against the dewy glass and the pinboard until something else, something louder, sliced through it: sirens. APC sirens that echoed loudly through the silence of curfewed Seattle, dozens of them. Augustine’s head snapped towards the foggy window as the siren sang its song, drawing her away from the conversation.

She wasn’t even three steps away before new footfalls echoed; the heavy stomps of boots. That familiar sound that would be followed by cuffs and commands and constraints. “Director,” The voice greeted. Augustine spun around to look at the DUP Soldier. “Rowe’s been spotted. He’s making his way through the north island and was last seen in Paramount.”

“What?” Augustine hissed. We turned to look at her, and caught the end of the glare she threw around the room before facing the soldier fully. “It’s been hours since he was last seen. That’s impossible.”

“We think he’s following Daughtry to the Marina,” the soldier continued.

Augustine inhaled deeply, clenching her fists. “Alright. Thank you,” she eventually growled, anything but thankful.

The soldier nodded and left, Augustine moving to the meeting table and leaning her palms against its flat surface, hanging her head. Her shoulders sagged, then tensed, and then she straightened, turning slowly to look at us. “I want you to track Rowe. See where he goes, what he does.”

“Do you want me to engage with him?” We asked, head tilting slightly.

“No.” Augustine interrupted before the sentence was fully out of our mouth. “Rowe is still a danger, and I don’t want to put you in his crosshairs.” She fixed the buttons on her jacket, trying to force her hands to still before looking back up at us, face softening.

Taking a step forward, her hand left her jacket to settle on our shoulder, squeezing it gently. A rush of discomfort blossomed from the touch as our mind ran a million miles a minute. “I need you to stay safe,” she reassured us. “We both know Rowe’s capabilities, but with his fury, he’ll also be a danger. After what happened in Elliott Bay, he’ll be on the warpath for revenge.”

She released us and stepped away towards the door, and we watched her with narrowing eyes. “Wh–where are you going?” We asked.

Augustine stopped in the doorframe, gripping it. “To prepare. He’s going to want a confrontation. I’m going to give it to him.”

That managed to calm the storm in our mind, everything sputtering to a stop. “What?” We balked. “You’re going to give him the chance to defeat you?”

Something flashed behind Augustine’s stare, and her jaw set. “You assume I’m going to lose to him,” She fumed, turning around to face us fully. “Rowe is a danger, but with this new Conduit? He could be an asset. We both understand what hangs in the balance if he’s allowed to continue.”

“You’ve seen what he can do,” We interjected, taking a step forward. Trying to be insistent towards that piece of her we hoped was still there, if it ever was more than an act. “If he overpowers you—”

“He’s strong in the abilities he’s gained,” Augustine agreed. “He’s not strong in mine.”

She must be joking. “You’re going to let him take your power?”

“You said yourself he’s incompetent as a Conduit with a new ability.” She stressed. “You’ve watched him fight for the most basic abilities. He’s unnatural in his source, and it’s that weakness that we need to exploit. If we can corner him, and use this other Conduit’s ability to control him further, we’d accomplish our mission. We need to create the perfect chance to capture him, he’s too dangerous to keep free.”

The way her shoulders squared, her face steeled, told us all we needed to know; she wasn’t going to change her mind. She was going to structure the ideal confrontation with Rowe, and try to take control of the situation once more. She could sense our hesitation, and added, “Follow him to me. Let me tire him with a fight, let him take my power, and be there as my lieutenant. Help me ensure we will accomplish this.”

We searched her face for a crack, a waver in the idea she’d already constructed in her mind—but she was too far gone. All we could do is nod and watch her rush off without farewells, knowing in our heart it would be the last time we saw her.

We had come to that crossroad the moment Rowe made himself known—and with this new risk, the threat of permanent impairment to placate the masses that would prefer our death, there was too much to lose. We could not idly wait for freedom. We could not win by painting ourselves the villain and inspiring distance. A road continued here would lead to our demise.

We couldn’t follow this path. Not anymore.

Opening an extension. Surpassing the log in requirements to access the DUP’s internal site. Typing in case file codes perfectly and setting their PDFs to download. Waiting until things were transferred to pull out the USB and pocket it, zipping the secrets against our hip like a loaded revolver to use against whatever forces chased for us after Augustine’s inevitable demise.

And just as she did, we turned and left the meeting room, leaving unspoken goodbyes hidden among the conspiracies.

Every step down the hall echoed back softly on our well-trained light heels, the electricity to the building short-circuiting and plunging the hall into darkness. Thunder rumbled outside, the lightning that followed it illuminating the grout between the tile until it mimicked her concrete, the pores staring back like dozens of judgmental eyes as we abandoned her.

But she was looking for compromise while we needed freedom. And we would only find that by force.

Lightning struck again, the flash illuminating differences in our surroundings; the flooring was now vinyl, lined with a dark baseboard that snaked along with our steps, the hems of our blue scrubs almost black in the darkness. The walls looked different, less bright, and the whispers in the rumbling thunder seemed to grow until they had audible syllables. The sirens of the APC sang in beats until their siren song sank into staccato, the bass rising into even beats that trailed behind every one of our steps.

Lightning never strikes the same place again. A myth proven by centuries of steeples turned to ash and pyres made from the remains of home. It strikes, relentlessly, leaving markings like blooming scars in its wake. But do the bolts truly strike the same spot twice, if those very atoms are irrevocably changed by their first meeting?

Perhaps it was their first interaction with us all those years ago that caused our disillusionment. It felt fitting to come say goodbye.

The last flash of lightning stayed, the brightness temporarily blinding us as it stayed in the hall, shocking the rest of our surroundings to life as we walked down the melancholic halls. Past the nurses station, past the pictures up of patients and their nurses, praises of their care plastered against the hospital walls. The sterile smell of disinfectant and latex-free gloves made our skin itch, and the beeping of monitors was enough to make us want to rip out our cochlea as we briskly walked down the hall to their room.

The sign on the door got a precursory glance, a warning we were all too used to—don’t peer into Medusa’s gaze or you’ll meet a fate worse than being turned to stone. We glanced back to ensure our lonesome before opening the door and slipping through it, ensuring it latched silently behind us.

We didn’t raise our eyes—we learned our lesson last time, when the Dream Eater forced us to confront them on a stage they had power in. Our eyes stayed pointed down, hands rising into our vision as the edges of our palms vibrated, like the epidermis itself was trying to separate from the rest of our skeleton. And in a way, it did; our pale skin got paler, shreddings of it shaking off in large layers and fluttering around our wrists like birds dancing in murmuration before coming to conjoin where we directed, folding against each other into a masterpiece. Sharp corners and pristine edges that bent into cheekbones and tall ears, the mask a welcome sight after years of the persona hiding in its burrow.

But there was no need to hide anymore, now that our plan was finally coming to fruition.

We fixed the mask to our face before lifting our head to see Dream Eater resting in their bed, face blanked and empty as they stared off towards the window. Was this truly what they amounted to, in the end of it all? A shadow of everything they could have been, something barely even remarkable now?

A shame. Baku would have made a formidable partner, if fate had written our stories differently.

But they were a victim to Purotekutā and the lengths she would go to sell a thousand souls for her own goals, molding others into the cobblestone beneath her feet in order to take another step towards what she wanted. Forcing everyone but herself to sacrifice.

We moved closer, footsteps calling back in echo despite how lightly we tread. They made no move to flinch, to even look in our direction, but ever so slightly their brow twitched, drawing closer as we paused next to their bedside. A part of them, possibly deep within their core, knew of our presence.

“Hello, Baku,” We greeted. They’d grown to look more like her in their age—lines of stress cracking across their face like it had in Purotekutā’s hardened façade, their hair showed proof of relation now that they couldn’t dye it in protest of being the apple that did not fall far from the tree. We found our place in the chair at their bedside. “It’s been a long time.”

We paused for a moment, searching Baku’s face for some kind of recognition, proof that they were still there, in some way. We didn’t receive it from their direct recognition, but by their brow twitching, the slight acknowledgement that they were processing something. Did they do the same studious glare she did, when they were still cognitive? Did their brow come together just enough to make an Eiffel Tower-shaped wrinkle reach up from the bottom of their forehead to the heavens?

“I always wondered what became of you, in the end. For a while, I had watched before giving you the privacy you deserved,” We admitted to them, watching as their hand flexed and unflexed, like they were testing that they still had control over the appendage. We had seen them in those fleeting moments of mollified life between the point where her reign ended and the disease’s reign began, where the remains of everything before forced Garrett to grapple with the person they’d become, and the memories of who they were. Truthfully, there was no moment of peace for any of us, even long after the dust settled. “We all had things we were healing from—scars that were still rough and raw.”

We looked around the hospital room, adding, “Though, in your case, I suppose they’re still gaping.”

Our eyes scanned the room corner to corner, taking in the additions to the sterile white that made it feel liveable. Blush pinks and lush greens coming together to drown out the memories this smell brought them. Us. Anyone who had grabbed Purotekutā’s interest.

Purotekutā. “I envied you, you know.” We hummed soft, like we were sharing a secret that could damn us. “Long ago, when I was still an ignorant child. First it was simply because of your relation. Though, later, I learned how little any of that meant to her—she wasn’t looking for a progeny, she was looking for a companion, she was looking for a spear. For something that would help her achieve her goals.” Our tone became bitter and dark as we thought about every bit of falsity that made us hope that somewhere, we would find love. That helped us play right into Augustine’s hands as she manipulated that yearn for family.

We inhaled deeply, shaking our head. “You realized that far sooner than I did, and in my ignorance, I thought you were a fool. She called for you first, compared my actions to you. I truly thought you were throwing away your one chance to stand beside our mother and make her proud.”

Baku’s hand clenched into a fist at that, the white knuckles far paler than we’d ever seen before. They had become a shell of themself because of what Purotekutā did to them. A shame, truly.

Our hand snaked up from our lap, hovering over theirs for just a moment before taking it, trying to ignore how papery their skin felt against ours. “In a way, I have you to thank for showing me the truth,” we said sincerely, hoping they understood how deeply our thanks ran at their interference. Without the seed of doubt they had planted in us, we would have never blossomed into what we were now. “It was only because of you that I learned to take off those rose-colored glasses and see Purotekutā for who she really was—a coward. Bowing to the whims of the humans to placate them enough to allow us to live.”

We hesitated, the flash of a strong nose and harsh gaze entered our mind. Our favorite plaything. “Well, you…and Fukushū.”

Fukushū…our doubt was sewn deep by Baku’s warning, but it was Fukushū’s intervention that made that seed grow into more. Helped us realize life could not continue the way it had those seven years, if we ever hoped for more than morsels of understanding from those that weren’t like us.

We moved, laid another hand over Baku’s until we were cupping their hand gently, like perhaps one with mercy would a baby bird. “I realized, a long time ago, that Conduits will always somehow be at fault for a life they didn’t choose. We will never know peace, will always have to pay for the circumstances we were a product of so long as they have a say. The humans, those people that see us as pests to be exterminated.

“I had hoped that these past few years would show promise.” We said mournfully, the sadness in our voice tinged with anger as we thought of how volatile the world was against Conduits still, all these years later. “That the world would’ve let go of theater hatred and allowed us to live as we are. I hoped I was wrong in my fears and that I was just carrying the remains of Purotekutā’s anger with me, what she raised me with. But I’ve come to see that Purotekutā was right. Nothing’s going to change if left to the humans. Nothing that will actually benefit Conduits—and it’s time to stop relying on hopes. Dreams. Fallacies.”

Baku moved, shifted like they wanted to react, to say something that they couldn’t, being trapped in themselves as they were. A pang of pity shot through us and we gently patted their hand before releasing them, averting our sad gaze from their face and out of the window on the other side of the room—they would hate to have that pity concentrated on them, they always did. We instead moved to look at the sunset-illuminated skyline of this unfamiliar city from the windows, finding envy in the dozens of people below that simply meandered about their daily life like it was the easiest thing to do. Like there were not pressing issues at hand that needed their constant attention.

But the likelihood was that they didn’t care. That no one did. “We can’t keep waiting for the world to decide when we’re allowed to live,” we said, our voice low as we shared our sentiments with a sibling who couldn’t respond, gripping the windowsill in an effort to contain our rage. “We cannot keep letting them decide how we’re allowed to live. Badges and borders and branding the entirety of our kind for a sin they didn’t commit, forcing them to carry the blame for a single man.”

Our gaze fell from the busy streets to the windowsill, to the various succulents and knickknacks that cluttered the space in an effort to cover up the sterile simplicity of being victim to fates worse than death. We reached out, gingerly taking the well-loved and very worn toy fox from its place, holding it gently in our hands. “I don’t think any of us will escape this world blameless,” we hummed, thumb running over the orb of the fox’s black eye to clear the fur from its sight. Baku had come to Curdun with this same toy, a token from a life far easier than what they lived now, inherited in some way by the parents that had raised them. “A life is made of wrongs we inherit, and the humans seem intent on bestowing these wrongs to us the moment we show we’re not like them. Maybe Purotekutā was right about one thing—the world needs someone to blame.”

Purotekutā had made herself infamous to the world in an effort to be the shield they bashed their swords against in anger. The point of contention to everyone, a dam to keep from either side spilling over too high for her own liking. But that stronghold came with a price—the cost of our people’s rights, their freedom. Baku was proof of everything she was willing to give up for that aforementioned peace. “I’ve spent the last eighteen years hoping things would change,” we told Baku, carefully replacing the fox in the corner of the windowsill, angling it so its back was basking in the warm sun as we scowled. Eighteen years. Eighteen spent hoping for a fate better than what Purotekutā saw for us, if Conduits were left without someone to intervene. Eighteen years spent preparing, holding our breath with our forefinger on a trigger, waiting to see if we needed to pull it.

And unfortunately, between the world’s strife and our own, there was no longer a chance to wait. “But time has run out, and so has my patience.” The world had waited too long, and so had we—we had no choice but to move forward now, to put our plans into motion. Years of careful planning and deliberate secrets all amounted to the loaded gun now in our hands, and it was time to pull the trigger. “I’ll become that person for the world to blame, but I can’t stand by and watch our people suffer.”

We turned to face them fully—they hadn’t shifted much in the time we were away from their bedside, but there was effort to how they were positioned now, like some part of them was yearning to connect in a way that was impossible for them now. We crossed to their bedside once more, grabbing both their hands in ours, surprised by the death grip Baku held us in. Despite it all, they were still a fighter, even as weakened and fragile as they were now. We gave them a squeeze back in the same manner, promise in the grip as two victims, two siblings, connected in a final goodbye. “Once the dominoes begin to fall, it will be too late to stop,” we told them. “In some way, the world will not be going back to how it was. I refuse to allow it to. It’s time we take what we deserve, and show the world it cannot keep pushing us aside. We are the product of eons of evolution, and cannot be ignored any longer.”

Something on our side buzzed, and we released one of Baku’s hands to reach into the pocket of the scrub set we’d put on to sneak in here undetected, pulling out our phone. Right on time; the clock was closely approaching five in the afternoon on the other side of the country, and progress on our plan was due.

‘Now we wait’ the message said, in full lowercase. An image followed soon after, a picture of the back of a gutted out van with a picture of her.

Of me.

The one way we were sure it would draw him out, so the rest of our plan could begin.

Holy fuck, that’s me. Back in Portland! When those Russians tried kidnapping me!

Fukushū would stop at nothing to protect those he cared for, we learned as much before.

That’s me.

“I’m not sure if I believe in any sort of god,” we—they—said, the voice sounding far away now. “But I hope, if there is one, that they can forgive me for what I must do.”

That’s me, that’s me, that’s me.

This wasn’t me.

Something in the illusion I was trapped in became harsh, my vision dilating and constricting as the edges became fuzzy like I was no longer recalling a memory, but a dream. “We’re out of time,” a voice realized in the back of my head, and I wasn’t sure if it was Garrett’s or mine or whoever’s body I was in. The hand holding the phone lowered the device down on the bed, its movement stuttered with the most confusing motion trail that made one hand look like thirty. It hesitated for a moment before raising to place itself close enough to our—their, my, whoever’s—eyes to pull down the mask and set it aside before reaching out to Ba–Garrett, gently cusping their chin.

And the person lifted Garrett’s head to meet their eyes.

I wasn’t prepared for the situation to burn as everything rippled like a mirage, or the gross slimy feeling after as the perspective became wholly my own and I was freed from whatever mind I was passenger to. I wasn’t ready for that pain in the back of my head that followed every change Garrett implemented to throb like my mind was going to explode, or for me to suddenly be the one with my back pinned to a bed, Garrett cupping my face. Something about the entire room shook, edges of the room glistening with that magic Garrett could wield as they dematerialized, turning into nothing but burning white and absolute void. The Dream Eater’s kingdom was collapsing.

They were the Garrett from before, when I first started this rabbit’s hole of a dreamscape—that green silky shirt, hair bright and pink and pulled back. “There’s no time,” Garrett said. They perched over me like a vulture, or maybe the Grim Reaper, eyes wide and wild and worried as they realized they couldn’t tell me more.

Or that, they shouldn’t have been able to. But it seemed they weren’t going to let that stop them.

They unceremoniously yanked my face closer, the entire room feeling like it was shaking now as it fell apart. Succulents that sat on the windowsill fell until they burst into glittering nothingness, overtaken by that blinding white as it all inched closer to the bed we were in. Their eyes bore into mine, that diamond blue glint in them multiplying until it felt like it was enveloping the part of my brain that didn’t burn, pushing in on it until everything began to flash.

Glimpses. Visions. It reminded me a lot of the flashes of everything I could do that hit when Dad accidentally sent the full power of the Core Relay through me, only far less organized and with none of my questions answered. The ruins of a bodega encased in ice, the New Marais air uncharacteristically chill for spring; A burn that felt like being cooked alive, and the soothing balm that spread from between the shoulderblades, staring up at a being far more godlike than anything we were taught. The back of a cell and an extended hand, whispered promises of greatness and righting wrongs.

A lifetime of flashes from the moment the Beast activated this person played in my mind; the coldness of Curdun, the training. Ruthlessly being pushed to the brink of everything she could do in order to train her to be that weapon Augustine needed. How she stalked Dad, from the moment he entered Seattle. Sleeping in hidden alcoves on the rooftops, trying to help those trapped by the DUP and threatened with being sent to Curdun. A hospital bedside, Aunt Sia bandaged and bruised; a dock just a quarter mile away, hearing his blood-curdling scream as he lost his grip on his brother. A corpse in DUP detainee orange, eyelids gently closed by her hand with a final goodbye and a promise made. That moment in the Sky 6 News tower where a different path was chosen, and Augustine was left to fight alone.

That’s where the story should have ended.

But it didn’t.

My mind burned, felt like it was being stretched and compressed and iced and kindled as everything Garrett wanted to show me was shoved into my frontal cortex at once. A personal thank you to Dad, left behind in a studio apartment that reeked of rotting flesh; the outcrops of Salmon Bay’s shoreline, a house that slowly became a home and an open window that stank of paint as the nursery was built.

A late and anxious night that bled into an early morning and the return to Seattle; a hospital room, hospital masks and pandemic preventatives, a perfectly obscured face that kept Dad and Mom none the wiser as she slipped into labor and delivery. A vial just like the one I nearly dropped at Garrett’s bedside and another of blood, one traded for the other. A large machine that pulsed with the power of a thousand reactors, and the all-enveloping feeling of a hand too small to fit in her own. The warehouse we rendezvous with kingpins, offering something better than drugs. Revenge. A man seeking her out for the same purpose. Glimpses of the sins she witnessed and the efforts it took to get to this point, years of planning that led to this precipice, all to the image of me in the back of a van.

She did this. The rabbit face-masked one, she did this. Everything! My kidnapping, Mom’s death, her illness.

That white around the room grew as I was suddenly shot back into my own consciousness, Garrett’s eyes meeting mine. I’m sure I looked feral in their grip, but their stare was steeled as they slowly nodded, like they were finally satisfied with me knowing everything I did. That white overtook their silhouette and my vision burned like I was staring at the sun, chest hollowing out in a gasping pain as it felt like I was kicked in the sternum, pushed out of wherever Garrett had me.

“Jean! Can you hear me?”

Unfortunately, I could.

Everything was too loud, too bright. My head throbbed so hard I was sure other people could see its pulsing and the first thing I did when I came to was gag before having to hold back a nice stream of bile. Someone yanked me back by my shoulders and I fell on my ass. I felt disgusting, lightheaded and somehow full of lead. I tried to speak, to tell someone, anyone, of what I just saw, but I couldn’t speak. Something between my brain and my mouth failed, like I was here and yet, once again, a passenger in my own mind. My vision was tinged pink and could barely focus on anything beyond it, and when I tried to wipe away, I saw my hands came back crimson. “God, that’s a lot of blood,” Dad muttered, his own hands going to wipe my eyes. He moved in front of me and crouched low, trying to force eye contact and holding me hard by the shoulders. “Jean, are you okay?”

“I covered their eyes!” Aunt Sia called from somewhere off to the side.

“What the hell just happened?” Brent demanded behind me.

Tell them what you saw, their voice still rang in the back of my mind. I flinched, feeling like they were permanently impressed in the centerfold of my brain and I would never be rid of their touch—especially as I moved despite how leaded I felt, heeding their command.

I let the directions guide me, thankful I didn’t have to put nearly as much thought into the movements as I usually would have as I laid my hand against the ground, water sluggishly crawling down my arm as I pressed my blood-stained palm to the white floor. The two mixed, droplets taking on the red until it lightened, the rinse draining away the blood and using it as ink. I could barely recall how to use my powers, and for a moment, the slick blood stayed a sad puddle before it started to shift, separating into lines.

The color drained in places, strengthened in others, building and bending into sharp lines and deep crevices until it took the form of that rabbit mask and I felt Dad’s grip on me tighten. “Jean,” he said, voice tense, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

My head lifted, lolling slightly on my neck as I met Dad’s eyes. Something in me, the thing tugging deep on the puppet strings that were my muscles and made me move without input plastered a weak smile on my face, the blood from my eyes and nose dribbling into my gums. “Celia, Delsin. Don’t you wonder where she went after it all? Are you so dense in your age you don’t remember her? Find her. She has the key you seek, the person behind the curtain. Trust your friends, trust your children. There’s no time left to dawdle. We face the end.”

The words ripped through my throat without my permission, something in my mind squeezing as they were spoken, like my ability to speak was choked out of both my mouth and my cerebrum. The laugh that followed was sardonic and crude, the sort a villain gives up before they keeled over.

Which, I promptly did, as soon as the imprint of Garrett released my head, the sudden lack of a death grip on my mind making it spin. Lights got 80 times brighter, everything sorta shifted like it was a mirage atop water, and the floor rushed up to meet me as I blacked out.

Want more from Doot? Go read more about how he tortures Garrett in All's Well That Ends:

Follow the tumultuous life of Garrett Jorrer, a Curdun Cay enforcer, experiment victim...and child of Brooke Augustine

Told through memories of what was and wishes of what could have been, read through the out-of-order retelling of Garrett's experiences and how life led to this moment...and how it ends. Now with every Erosion chapter added!

I'd also like to take a moment to point you towards something a good friend of mine, @infamoussparks, made. You may remember her as the creator of Dr. Hutch from two chapters ago:

Dissipate

Dying is a heavy burden to carry but Fetch is doing her best to balance her fate while spending time with her new family. Acceptance is hard in the dead of night but it's also the best time to shine as bright as neon.

A tender moment from Fetch Walker as she grapples with the fate of her illness, and the small children she will never get to see grow old. It genuinely had me sobbing when I first read it. It's heart wrenchingly evil.

I love it.

#infamous second son #infamous erosion #brooke augustine #GARRETT POSTING #GAREBEAR MY LITTLE BABY #Celia Penderghast #is that how you spell it?#delsin rowe #terrible implications to why someone is in the fight posting #fanfiction #infamous #uh #I've been gone so long I forgot how to tag these things #anyways I seriously do adore Doot's writing and tried to play with my own perspective writing #it's not nearly as good but it's there and I had fun #it'll look familiar to Gab and yes. that's where I got the idea #also babe get outta here #jean posting #aunt sia posting #brent posting #zeke....posting? I can't remember if he's in this chapter. I'm not looking up.#last chapter in the reserves and then I'm starting with zero. Which is good! to start anew is to start refreshed. and I will do good #if you're still here reading this I'll buy you a bagel

9 notes · View notes

justwearthegoddamncardigan · 2 years ago

Note

I want more platonic maze runner stories with a young reader (10-13) could she be a gril and like during Teresa's betrayal

More platonic stories <333333

Shields

Set during scorch trials - Teresa's betrayal (movieverse)

Gladers x young! fem!reader (platonic)

Notes: I assumed since it’s now age 10-13 that it’s a meant to be separate from the previous one, so they’re unrelated but will probably have similar tones anyway. Also I've done this as a fic instead of headcanons since it's a specific scene (it's basically a rewritten version of the movie scene)

Warnings: everything in the movies, i.e. WCKD guards and guns, that one electric stun grenade thing, Mary's death

Helicopter blades thunder in the sky, and you duck for cover as missiles rain down.

"Y/n!" bellows Minho, pointing in warning as the tent beside you catches fire.

You stumble away, crashing sideways into Newt, who grabs your arm and runs. "Keep your head down!" he calls.

"Come on!" In a swift motion, Minho sweeps you up and chases Frypan and Aris, who are up ahead, with Newt following.

"Where's Thomas?" you ask, tapping Minho's shoulder.

"We'll find him," he promises. "Just focus on stayin' alive for now."

The five of you duck behind a truck where Harriet and Vince are frantically setting up a weapon.

"How can we help?" asks Frypan.

"You need to cover us!" responds Harriet, shouting over the noise of explosions and screaming.

You look around in horror, watching members of the Right Arm falling as WCKD soldiers mercilessly fire paralysing shots.

"Y/n, get down," says Newt through gritted teeth, forcing you behind him as he lifts his gun.

The Gladers form a loose circle around you, shielding you as the WCKD soldiers close in.

Suddenly, a flash of light catches your eyes, and a blue-lit grenade bounces into the truck.

"Shit!" yells Vince, and for a second you see stars as the grenade detonates, taking you and your friends down with an electrical burst.

You jerk a little as you try to get up, but you can't move from the ground.

You feel people brushing against you as Newt, still convulsing slightly from the grenade shocks, pulls himself closer to you.

Frypan joins him, dragging himself closer so that both of them are covering you.

Tears prick your eyes as you lower your head onto Newt's shoulder, gripping Frypan's hand. Your brothers, protecting you till the end.

But they defend you to no avail, because the WCKD soldiers easily pick them up, ripping them away from you and shoving them into line.

You hear a struggle on the other side of the truck as a soldier approaches you, and you watch as Minho somehow gathers up the strength to punch one of the soldiers.

"Minho!" you cry out, as he's knocked back down.

"Don't you fucking touch her," he levels the soldier with a venomous gaze, tone deadly, but the soldier ignores him and grabs your arm.

You're pushed into line beside Newt, kneeling shoulder to shoulder.

A device beeps as a soldier reads out your tag. "A-11."

Thomas appears too, and is shoved down beside Minho after earning a punch to the stomach from Janson.

Your eyes widen as you see Ava Paige emerge from the Berg, clad in white with her hair pulled back in a bun.

"Hello Mary," she says, and you turn to see where Mary is standing, gaze defiant.

You make eye contact with Newt as Paige goes on some rant about being good.

"It's gonna be okay," he whispers.

You shake your head, but before you can respond you hear a gunshot.

You gasp as Mary falls, blood spreading from her wound.

You turn to see Janson holding up a gun, a grim smile on his face. "Load 'em up," he commands.

You're kicked along the way as you stand, following Newt and Frypan.

Suddenly, Thomas breaks away from the group, yelling as he holds up an explosive device, finger poised upon the detonator.

You watch as Teresa, someone who protected you, cared for you like a sister, pleads with Thomas.

"They promised we'd be safe. Thomas, please, don't do this," she implores.

Thomas' voice is low and shaky, but he stands defiantly. "I'm not going back."

You look up as Minho steps forward, joining Thomas, and you realise what's about to happen.

But you're not scared. You'd rather go out with your friends than live trapped with WCKD.

You link hands with Frypan and Newt and step up.

"Do it Thomas."

"We're ready."

You look up to meet his eyes, and you nod. It's okay.

At his responding nod, you close your eyes, still holding onto Frypan as you wait.

Then a crash sounds out, and Jorge barrels through WCKD's forces with a massive truck.

"Go!" yells Thomas, pushing you to run.

You follow Newt and Frypan as they run towards Vince, who's got his machine gun working.

"Duck!" Frypan shoves you down as a bullet flies over your head.

Minho grabs a gun, standing strong to cover you guys.

"Get out of here!" he shouts, shooting at the WCKD soldiers.

Thomas grabs your hand as he catches up.

"Minho, let's go!" he yells.

"Here, take cover," says Newt, ducking behind a large box.

Thomas and Frypan join you, and the four of you duck as bullets continue firing at you.

"No!" You watch in horror as Minho's gun stalls, and you let out a scream as he takes an electrical shot in the chest.

Thomas sprints out, yelling for Minho, but there's too many soldiers shooting at you to get close.

You back away slowly, the distance between you and Minho growing as he's dragged back into the Berg.

"Minho..." you whisper.

WCKD retreats, the Bergs taking to the air with the people they got.

⭒----⭒

You sit in the dust, taking in the wreckage as the sun rises.

"What do we do now?" asks Newt, looking up hopelessly.

"We start again," says Vince tiredly. "Rebuild everything from the bottom."

You watch as Thomas stands, slinging a bag over his shoulder. "I'm not going with you."

"I made a promise to Minho," he continues.

You think back to the Maze as Thomas speaks.

Minho had always protected you. He was so kind, and always listened when you needed to talk. He made you smile, and kept your spirit up.

There's no way you're letting WCKD keep him.

You stand. "I'm coming with you."

Thomas turns to you, and for a second you think he's gonna reject you, tell you you're too young and too weak.

"Thank you." He sends you a smile.

You nod.

"Guys, listen," says Newt wearily. "I've known Minho for as long as I can remember. If there was any way to save him, I'd be up there with you. But this? This is impossible."

Thomas shakes his head. "It's not just about Minho. It's everyone WCKD's ever taken."

You look up with a grin as he finishes his speech.

"Well then," says Vince. "What's the plan?"

"Pack up what we've got. Then we move out," responds Thomas.

The group moves into action at his words, and he hops down from his rock to meet you.

"Thanks, Y/n," he says.

"I'm helping for real," you say, crossing your arms. "I'm not just gonna be dragged along as a weakness for the team."

"I know," he says, gaze clear and honest as he looks at you.

Jorge steps up. "So, we're going on a suicide mission," he says. "With a reckless teenager and a child who's never touched a weapon."

You lift your chin, sending Thomas a grin. "Guess I should get a gun then."

Thomas raises an eyebrow in response.

Minho had always been the one insisting you never get into the violence. He refused to hand you any weapon, and instead you'd been protected over the whole journey.

The Gladers were your shields, keeping you safe between them.

But you're ready to fight now.

"I suppose Minho's not here to object," he says with a rueful grin.

"We'll get him back," you say. "Then he can object all he wants."

This one was a little difficult tbh. I didn't really want to directly copy paste lines from the movie, so the choppy dialogue is probably cause I tried to limit the words.

in spite of that I'm pretty happy with how it turned out in the end. Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading 😊

#the maze runner #platonic gladers x reader #minho x reader #newt x reader #thomas x reader #frypan x reader #my writing

124 notes · View notes

lillslillslilly · 9 months ago

Text

CHAPTER TWO

Chapter two

She had spent the last fourteen hours kneading dough and mixing batter and rolling out mix until her hands locked, her head was light from dehydration and her stomach was practically screaming for something consumable. Though every millimetre of her five-foot-three self was monopolised in a dull ache from the uninterrupted production of baked goods, Maxine was glowing with relief, disbelief and reward at the milestone she had just accomplished. She was not phased by the agonising hunger and thirst that her body desperately called out for; instead, it brought a subtle sense of peace, of solidarity to her mind, in tandem to the playlist of soft songs levitating from the speaker in the corner of the bakery, like an energy or an aura.

Positioned above the checkout area, the glass display case exposed a heavenly stash of perfectly browned croissants, glazed cinnamon rolls, an array of stacked cookies and chocolate-chunked brownies, buns and a clique of other devastatingly beautiful pastries and doughs. Shelves encompassing the store accommodated sourdoughs, whole wheats, ciabattas, baguettes, paninis, ryes… individually wrapped in some sort of cellophane material, accompanied by a little red ribbon holding it in place. A freshly polished glass casing lined the centre of the back cherry-red wall, occupied by several fresh pies – cherry, blackberry, peach, pumpkin, apple – each one satisfyingly golden and crisp. Pies were always Maxine’s favourites to make; she enjoyed watching them bake, fruit bubbling, seeping through the flawlessly measured lattice on top, eventually settling, leaving a dye of colour around the pastry. Below the array of pie, still filling the casing, lay angelic looking, soft to the touch, heavenly tasting cakes (two teared with a generous layer of butter icing between tears and coating the top of the exterior): Victoria sponge, triple chocolate, red velvet (the greatest creation in the whole world in the eyes of Max) and coffee and walnut. Depending on which she believed would suit best to each specific cake, Max had dusted them with either silver or gold edible glitter – very lightly as if it was from a fairy. The interior of the bakery also looked as though Maxine had waved a magic wand over it: everything was pristine, perfect. The magnolia walls hung paintings of all sorts of baked goods – paintings her best friend had created for her throughout their friendship ready to store in the bakery she always dreamed of, and so she had kept every single one from over the years for this exact purpose. Crimson, cursive LED lights hung above the checkout counter read ‘welcome’ to match the single red wall hosting the pies and cakes. Earlier in the week, Maxine had purchased two small, rounded, metal tables with shiny, metal, basket-like chairs for customers to eat-in. A few cans of red spray paint and an afternoon of DIY later, she had a small seating area to compliment the red theme that she had been going for. And of course, weaved around the legs of the tables and chairs, and among the sides of the checkout counter were fairy lights.

She was finishing writing products and prices on the colossal chalk board that had earlier been fused to the wall, when a faint but familiar knock presented itself at the door. Behind it: her best friend with a face full of excitement. This was the first time that she had let Wrenn see the bakery; the finished result. She wanted it to be perfect before she let anybody else see, not even her best friend, and now it was.

“Holy shit,” Wrenn gasped as she bounced inside of the store, encouraging her roommate to move to the side. “You did it, like actually. God, it’s just how you described it when we were younger.”

She’s looking around now, spinning in circles, her eyes fixing onto all the different views of the room, occasionally humming with agreement. She giggled at the sight of the fairy-lights knowing that Maxine could not and would not resist incorporating them into the design somehow. Amused, she paced around, letting her eyes bring in all of it.

Then she paused, frozen, glaring up at the paintings on the magnolia walls. She was silent for a moment (which was an unheard-of event for ‘Miss talks-a lot’), as she processed the familiar artwork that lay before her eyes. Wrenn herself broke the silence after gathering her thoughts with a near whisper, “You kept them? ALL of them?”

“Of course I did.” Maxine chuckled in reply, gently caressing the signature, Wrenn’s signature, at the edge of one of the canvases with a chocolate cupcake painted onto it.

“I said I would put them in my bakery, so I have. Besides, I think they bring the whole look together, you know?”

After few soft smiles were exchanged between the pair, Maxine found herself being tackled into a bear-hug, both girls still giggling like teenagers at a sleepover.

“I am really, really, really proud of you Maxie.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

It was starting to get darker earlier, October in the UK and all, and colder too. The bitter air bit at the girls sharp forcing Max to wrap her wine-red scarf around her, covering her nose and mouth. She was aware that it would be a late finish and a cold evening, so she had worn her black trench coat too. Maxine had never really minded the cold weather because she argued that one could always layer up to stay warm or drink a hot drink or tuck yourself in bed, and instead hated the summer. Wrenn always gave the opposing argument that summer in the UK was pathetic: it was barely hot, rained a lot and only lasted a few weeks.

“You’ll love summer abroad. We could go to Spain! Or Los Angeles! Or Portugal!” She’d say.

“We could lay in the sun and get tans and drink martinis.” She’d say.

“We can cool off in the pool and wear our bikinis all of the time.” She’d say.

But Max did not want to go to Spain or Los Angeles or Portugal. She did not want to lay in the sun. She did not want to drink martinis. She did not want to cool off in the pool. She did not want to wear her bikini all the time. And she certainly did not want the summer, though she agreed with her because that’s what friends do. However, she’d rather be curled up by a fireplace with a blanket and a book, some fairy-lights and candles glowing, a coffee, and rain splatting the window: undisturbed. That was what she wanted.

They had been strolling back in the direction their apartment for a while discussing their plans for the rest of the evening. Eventually, the two decided that they’ll stop at the coffee house that resides just beside their apartment block and then they’ll order a pizza and watch a movie to end their day. ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ was their final decision for the movie after a pointless debate on what to watch – this settled right in the middle of their choices: romance and comedy. Perfect – it was also one of Maxine’s favourites, so she felt as though she had still won regarding deciding the film.

‘LIVE LOUNGE COFFEE’ was quite vintage, classical from the outside. The exterior was a deep brown with vines growing along the wood like veins. It seemed quite tiny, secluded and still from the outside. It seemed untouched. Why had it taken them both so long to investigate this coffee house? Maxine especially had become dependent on caffeine, so why has she not visited the coffee house that is quite literally attached to her apartment? In a way, it never really crossed her mind; she hadn’t even fathomed that there was a coffee house attached to her apartment until Wrenn’s mentioning of it on their walk home. Better late then never though, she thought.

Wrenn pushed the door open into the shop, which was rather heavy so this must have been an old shop as they figured, and stepped in, Maxine close behind. She was taken by surprise – this is not what she had thought the interior would look like: it was so… modern; unique? Sofas of mix and matched colours and sizes and an additional similar array of armchairs consumed a lot of the interior. Bar stools and taller tables were dotted around two large speakers which outlined a stage-like area towards the back right hand side of the room. Nothing matched except the walls which were all white, however they were plastered in a series of different quotes and posters. Max was a perfectionist: everything she ever worked on was thought about so particularly for it to be perfect. She needed that control. This was nothing like that. This was unorganised and randomised… so why did she like it?

“Hmm, comfy,” she whispered under her breath as she untangled herself from her scarf, to which her friend turned to her with a facial expression of a mix of surprise and satisfaction.

“Coffee, a beverage that smells like fresh ground heaven,” Maxine read from one of the quotes on the wall to her left. “Amen to that.” Her eyes took one last stroll around the interior of the coffee house until they locked with an unfamiliar pair across the counter. She’d been so caught up with the interior that she hadn’t realised how empty it was, except this pair of forest-brown eyes connected to hers.

“Good evening. How are you?” spoke a soft voice – a soft voice that she did not recognise as her own, nor her best friend’s. A beautiful voice. An angelic voice. A calm voice. It was like music to her ears: blissful and sweet, but soft like feathers.

She realised she was still maintaining eye contact with this person’s exquisite set of russet eyes, and she felt herself burning up, turning red. She swallowed and quickly looked down at her feet. ‘What the fuck is happening?’ she thought to herself. Taking a slow and quiet deep breath Max repositioned her eyes once more, desperate to see the owner of the eyes she had connected with. Her muscles tensed and her breathing fastened. Her once blistery cold skin was now forming beads of sweat as she warmed up against her coat.

She started at the bottom so she could avoid the trance those eyes put her in. They wore a clearly loved pair of Doc Marten boots (she could tell from the frays and the scratches that consumed them), shiny and laced all the way to the top of the ankle. They connected to a pair of black jeans pulled over a long pair of legs. Her eyes glided up to their hips, flawlessly curved, falling into a petite waist shaped by a small apron pulled around it and tied with a bow. Her breathing heavied again, falling irregular now. After a moment of trying to collect herself, she continued her eyes on their journey up, analysing this stranger. One of their hands sat dominantly on their waist while the other was twirling the end of one of two long, midnight black braids, which reached just above it. There was a smooth, shiny coat of amethyst purple painted across their nails without a single chip and each of their fingers had a ring, some even having multiple, except for their thumbs and their wedding finger which remained empty. Each ring was a different colour, shape, style to the last – they were mix-matched like the furniture; Maxine shocking liked it, like the furniture. Her eyes were fixed for a second, until eventually continuing their investigation to their arms and shoulder, which were covered by the cotton sleaves of their black long-sleeved t-shirt. Around their neck dangled one singular silver necklace connected to a small charm of the initial ‘V’, which hung in the centre of their chest. Her eyes continued searching, flowing up their goosebump-covered neck. Was she cold? Was she nervous? Max was nervous. Three silver hooped earrings were situated in each lobe and an industrial bar, also silver, positioned itself diagonally at the top of their left ear. Wrenn and Max always debated silver or gold jewellery and she was always team silver; she assumed they were too. Her eyes proceeded to progress down their jawline, to their lips, which were coated in a thin layer of clear lip-gloss, smiling a toothless smile in her direction. Their lips were so full, especially the bottom one – perfectly plump and a rich rose shade. Their lips were flawless, so her eyes fixed onto them longer. Her hands stated to grow sweaty now, and she could feel her skin turning a raspberry shade of red again. Slowly, she inhaled another silent breath hoping to slow her racing heart or at least somewhat cool her down as she started at their lips. Eventually, she pulled her eyes up once again, resuming their travel to a nose ring – also a silver hoop (assuming to match with the lobe hoops) though it is thinner and smaller. Circling around the eyes she once connected with to avoid it happening again, they analysed the arch in their eyebrows, the perfect shape and the bar of jewellery that ran through the one on the right-hand side. Eyebrow piercing? Hot. Those luscious set of brown eyes caught her attention once more and again she was completely monopolised by them. Her breathing was out of control this time and her heart almost jumped out of her chest. Why does this keep happening? She began to get flustered. Her coat was becoming a real issue – it was too hot in here. It was almost like she was out of her own body, like she had no control. She was captivated by those eyes. She inhaled one more time and led her eyes down the long wing of eyeliner running down their face and finally closed her eyes.

“Fine, thanks. How are you?” a voice answered. It wasn’t her voice. It continued, “Wait, are you guys open?” Once she finally had her breath back, Max opened her eyes to look at her friend, who was smiling softly at the stranger behind the counter with the capturing eyes.

“Yeah of course. What can I get you?” the stranger’s soft, feathery voice spoke again.

“A green tea, please and…” she turned to look at Maxine, who had not digested any of the words that had been spoken since they entered the coffee house. She flinched, snapping out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?” she mumbled to Wrenn.

“What do you want to order?” she questioned, nodding her head towards the stranger behind the counter.

“Oh, erm. A coffee, black,” she spoke under her breath, almost a whisper. Wrenn was looking at her again now but with an expression that she wasn’t familiar with. She broke eye contact and returned her eyes to her feet. She felt fidgety, pressing on the skin around her fingernails behind her back.

“Do you want some sugar with that, darling?” the feathery, angel voice sung out once more. Max froze, her eyes still fixed onto her Mary Jane black heels. Shit, do I want sugar? No.

“Erm, yes please.” She answered.

Shit.

“How many?”

None.

“Just one please.”

What the fuck.

The only sound in the room now was the stranger making the girls’ drinks, Maxine’s heavy breaths and pounding heart, although she hoped she was the only one that could hear those last two things.

After a couple of silent minutes, the stranger comes over with the drinks and hands them to the girls, reinforcing the uncomfortable eye contact that Maxine so desperately avoided, yet so desperately craved.

“Here you are,” she smiled as she handed Wrenn her tea, followed by, “there you go, sweetie.”

What the fuck.

Maxine nodded, still maintaining eye contact, however her breathing was becoming more regular now. She still felt like melting on the spot, but she was calmer and so now she just admired the face that she had analysed a few short minutes ago.

“Pretty quiet night for you I’m guessing,” Wrenn voiced.

The stranger hummed in agreement, and Max wasn’t the one to break the fixed eyes this time. The stranger let out a gentle chuckle. “Yeah, I suppose we don’t get many caffeine hungry people this time of night. They won’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Back at their apartment, Maxine released a slice of pepperoni pizza from her grip, flopping it back into the greasy inside of the box she had previously taken it out of. She thought that after having all but a croissant today would mean that she would have devoured more than two slices, however her mind was running and therefore her appetite was pretty low. Usually, she would be irritatingly reciting the script of the movie playing in front of her, however today it was merely background noise to her seamless thoughts. In a loop, her mind projected images of those piercing eyes from the coffee house, then to those lips; to the hands and then the waist; to each of the piercings; circulating back to those poisoning eyes – a never ending cycle. But why, why was this happening? Did she really care that much? Did she even care at all? Why would she care? She doesn’t care. Why is she so fixed to this?

An elbow interacted with her hip, sharp but not painful.

“Right, what’s wrong?” Wrenn said looking to her. “You’ve been radio silent since we got in.” It’s true, she had been, though she hadn’t realised; her mind had been on the loudest volume distracting her from noticing.

“Nothing,” she began, “Well, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Right okay…” her friend spoke, holding onto the tune of the last word, followed by a short hum of thought. “So, I take it that this has something to do with what happened downstairs?” And she could read her like a book, apparently. Maxine didn’t even bother to deny her behaviour – her friend saw right through her, and she knew that from the second she asked what was wrong.

“How bad was it? God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I mean, you were bright red, fidgety and protruding Darth Vader breaths when she called you ‘darling’ so…” Wrenn went quiet, trying to decide carefully her next words to not stress Maxine out any further. She did eventually chime back up, “I don’t think she noticed though, maybe I just did because I know you so well. It wasn’t so bad. Actually, I think it’s rather sweet.”

That did not offer Max any clarity whatsoever. She swallowed down the last of her coffee and nodded in agreement, though Wrenn knew she wasn’t convinced.

#wlw #original work #original writing #sapphic #romance #slow burn #lgbtq

3 notes · View notes

quietblueriver · 2 years ago

Text

Don't Ever Turn It Down (Ch. 1)

Set in the same universe as That Lilith Voice Inside My Head. Beatrice is a lawyer. Ava is in marketing. They fall in love.

________________________________________________________

Beatrice is settling in her new office when she hears a loud laugh through her open door. She thinks, absently, as she unpacks her diplomas and the few personal items she keeps at work, that it’s lovely. It’s followed moments later by a knock, and Beatrice turns from placing a small prayer plant on one of the bookshelves lining the wall behind her desk to see Camila, smiling widely and holding two cups of coffee.

She’s not alone. That, in itself, is not a surprise. Camila had asked if it was okay for her to bring company when they made plans for lunch today. Beatrice had assumed she meant Lilith, because she always means Lilith. Or, she had before today. The woman behind Camila is possibly the most beautiful person Beatrice has ever seen, and Beatrice is not prone to hyperbole. She’s wearing a large tweed blazer over a white t-shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans, and her hair, cut above her shoulders, is a little bit wild as it largely escapes a bun. She’s grinning at Beatrice as though they’re close friends, genuine happiness in her expression and generally radiating from her, and she waves eagerly with the arm not holding a cup of iced coffee as she stops just short of Beatrice’s desk. It’s incredibly disarming. Beatrice blinks. Blinks again. When their eyes meet, her smile grows somehow bigger and she bounces on her toes for a moment, wincing a little when a small amount of her iced coffee lands on the sleeve of her blazer. The smile is back quickly, though, and she shrugs at Beatrice with one shoulder. Inexplicably, Beatrice’s stomach swoops.

“Beatrice!” Camila comes in for a hug, sitting one of the coffees on Beatrice’s desk and stepping around a box to wrap an arm around Beatrice’s waist. Beatrice reflexively does the same, grateful to find her limbs still work, and forces herself to look at her friend instead of continuing to stare. She’s wearing dark green pants and her ever-present converse, white today, with a color-blocked cardigan. Beatrice is glad she chose not to wear her full suit, feels overdressed enough in her navy dress pants and light blue button-down.

Her eyes drift back to the other woman as Camila says, “This is my friend, Ava. Ava, this is Beatrice, who as you can see is a real person.” She squeezes Beatrice’s waist and says, “Ava has had doubts about your existence given how much I talk about you and how little you actually appear.” It’s said without malice but Beatrice blanches anyway. She hates having been such an absent friend. Camila presses her head to Beatrice's shoulder briefly; she's known Beatrice long enough to know what she's thinking. “Of course, she wouldn’t have had to doubt if you hadn’t had to cancel on basically everything fun over the last year because your stupid bosses had no respect for your life. Have I mentioned today that I am very excited that you’ve left that disaster of a job? You can’t get away from me now, you know. I get to bother you at work and in the life you’ll be able to have outside of work, too. I’m starting now. Well, I’m starting in like 30 minutes. One of the developers is having an issue and wants to talk so I’ll have to step out for a few. Sorry, he texted literally as we got off of the elevator, and I’m managing the project, so I am on call for things like this. I swear I’ll be quick.” She pauses briefly to put her own coffee down next to the cup she’d already placed on the desk and wrap a second arm around Beatrice for a full side hug.

“Anyway, we brought coffee because we were thinking Vietnamese and it’s a bit of a walk, if that’s okay? Lil is going to meet us there. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” She presses back into Beatrice's shoulder and rocks their bodies side to side in a demonstration of enthusiasm. Beatrice catches her arm across the front of her body and holds it to her, familiar feelings of warmth toward her friend giving her a reprieve from her ridiculous reaction to Ava. Unfortunately, when she looks up, she finds Ava wearing a fond expression, the corners of her eyes crinkled slightly, and when she catches Beatrice’s eye, whatever normalcy she’d found in Camila’s affection flees at the force of the smile now being directed her. Her stomach clenches.

Beatrice knows that she has been given a cue to speak. Several, in fact. Camila has introduced her to someone and asked her a question about her preferences for lunch. She has also characterized herself as a bother, which Beatrice wants to correct, even if she’s aware it was a joke. Beatrice, as a functioning adult who has in fact had human conversation before, should be able to address all three of these things. She finds herself embarrassingly incapable of doing so.

The hand Camila still has around her squeezes gently at her waist in what Beatrice is sure is concern. She is not often flustered, and her failure to respond immediately to the introduction is a sure giveaway that she is not operating at full capacity. There are a few things from her upbringing that she willingly keeps with her, one of which is the importance of being respectful, of being, when possible, polite. Currently, she’s failing miserably for no real reason. It’s unacceptable.

She triages. Minimally, she can say hello. She wants to say hello. She lifts the hand not around Camila’s waist and mechanically raises it, holds it stiffly in the air next to her body, elbow at a right angle and fingers pressed together. Some part of her brain was surely attempting to mirror Ava’s enthusiastic greeting. What she has done instead could, generously, be considered a cousin to a wave, but Beatrice has never been generous with herself. She looks like she’s taking the oath of office. She looks like she’s directing traffic. She looks like an absolute idiot.

“Hi.”

Heat rushes to her face. She can feel Camila’s eyes boring into her but she will not look at her. She shifts her hand just slightly to Beatrice’s back and...pats it gently, reassuring Beatrice as someone might reassure a shy child meeting someone new. She finds it, despite herself, to be comforting and is grateful that Camila is gracious enough to have made the gesture subtly and out of Ava’s eyesight. She’s very glad Lilith is meeting them at the restaurant, can almost hear her, in derision and delight, assessing Beatrice: What the fuck is wrong with you?

It’s a fair question. She hasn’t felt this way since she was a teenager and Ali Brewer smiled at her for the first time. She had tripped on nothing in the hallway on the way to calculus. Even then, Beatrice was working on her second black belt and had already (begrudgingly) been in ballet for a decade. She did not trip. But she did for Ali, and now, it seems, she’s tripping for Ava as well. Beatrice quickly moves her hand back down, and Ava mercifully speaks, leaning a hip against the side of the desk and still grinning at Beatrice, something new—amusement?—dancing in her eyes.

“Hi." It's tinged with, yes, amusement, but she's kind and moves on quickly. "So great to finally meet you. And, yeah, to be totally transparent, I did tell Cam that I was skeptical but I also might have, a few times on our last project, suggested to Lilith that she made you up to make it seem like she had a friend who wasn’t her girlfriend and that poor Cam was going along with it out of love.” At the noise of protest Camila emits, she says easily, “You know you would. Plus, she deserved it, and it was a fun bit.”

Beatrice lets out a laugh, surprising herself and delighting Ava, based on the expression that spreads across her face. She feels Ava’s smile like a sense of pride, which is absurd. Recalling her Rosey the Robot impression of moments ago, Beatrice is reminded that absurd is a relative term, and she’ll take pride over idiocy any day. She flexes the fingers of her free hand to get rid of some of her nervous energy, relaxes her shoulders with an intentional deep breath. This is comfortable territory—making fun of Lilith has put her at ease for most of her life at this point. This, she knows how to do.

“Actually, maybe we could keep it going?” Her eyes glint and Beatrice admires the way the natural light in her office makes the brown of her irises even brighter. “I can pretend not to see you at the restaurant and act confused every time she speaks to you.”

“I’m in.” She says it without hesitation and she is relieved that she sounds like herself and not someone who had two minutes ago been totally uncertain of how to move her own arms.

Camila unwraps herself from Beatrice and flicks her shoulder before moving around the desk to do the same to Ava. “Hey. Be nice. Both of you.” She sighs a little and smiles. “The two of you are going to be a problem for her.”

“She shouldn’t dish it out if she can’t take it, Cam.” Ava waves her hands in the air carelessly as she teases. Well, she attempts to wave her hands in the air carelessly. What she actually does is wave one hand and spill coffee on her white shirt with the other. She groans at herself. “Well this is embarrassing. And cold. Karmic justice? Or, oh, did Lilith curse me?” She waggles her eyebrows at Beatrice and accepts another flick from Camila in penance. “Wait, no. I’ve always been like this.” She shrugs sheepishly and looks down at her shirt again. “I have a spare in my office. Black. Which is clearly what I should’ve started with but like, gotta stay optimistic, right? Anyway, hi, hello, real-person Beatrice. Very pumped for our future work together messing with Lilith. How’s your first day going?”

She’s genuine and self-deprecating, and Beatrice is…charmed. Ava is beautiful in a way that makes Beatrice behave like a teenager but she’s also incredibly likable. Dangerously likable, maybe, but Beatrice lets that thought fall away as she watches Ava pull slightly at the fabric of her shirt as if maybe that will fix the stain. Ava is a real person. Beatrice is a real person. Beatrice the real person can do this.

“Hello, also-real Ava. Always happy to have company in mocking Lilith. We can exchange notes—this has been a hobby of mine for nearly two decades now.” At this Ava moves her hands again, possibly to clap in excitement, but stops herself quickly, before the motion gets away from her. She puts her coffee down on Beatrice’s desk and darts her eyes between the coffee cup and Beatrice, eyebrows raised and face full of pride. Beatrice, who believes strongly in positive reinforcement, gives her a thumbs up. She barely has time to want to crawl under her desk (today maybe Beatrice is prone to hyperbole) before Ava laughs and claps, taking a half-bow. Beatrice has managed somehow to do exactly the right thing, and she smiles widely, does not bother to restrain herself the way she normally would around a relative stranger. “Thank you, thank you. I can learn.”

Camila is looking between them with interest, and Beatrice has no desire to let that continue uninterrupted, so she’s speaking again. “Very impressive. Well done you.” Ava’s smirk lets her know the sarcasm is fine. “And my first day is going well, thank you, although I haven’t done much more than meet with HR and sign paperwork and unpack a few things. They very kindly wanted to give me time to get settled.”

“See? Better gig already. I’ll say it again—I could not be more relieved that you’re out of that place and I could not be happier that you’re here.” Camila’s phone sounds and she looks at the screen and sighs. “I have to run back to my office to take this call—I’m afraid he’ll need me to take a look at the code—but it won’t be more than twenty minutes, promise. Ava, I can stop by your office and grab your extra shirt so you don’t have to go back down. Unless you want to?”

“Nah, I’d rather stay and keep Beatrice company. If that’s okay?” Beatrice manages to nod and smile and maintains almost every bit of her composure at the look she receives in response. “Thanks, Cam. Bottom left drawer, where the Advil is.” With a wave at them both, Camila steps into the hallway, closing Beatrice’s door behind her.

Ava adjusts her body slightly where she has leaned back against the desk and Beatrice is reminded of the fact that both of the chairs in front of her are currently full of boxes of law books. She moves immediately to fix this.

“I’m so sorry. Let me move these. Please sit.”

She picks up one of the boxes and starts toward the small table that takes up the left side of her office but she doesn’t make it more than a step before Ava protests, “I’m totally fine. Promise. Want help unloading, or do you have a whole system?” Her smile is teasing, and she immediately answers her own question with a fond lilt, “You definitely have a system.”

The interaction is easier, maybe, than it should be given that they’ve only just met, but Beatrice is strangely pleased at the familiarity, even as she feels herself blush. Given that she’s likely been one shade of red or another for most of this encounter, she’s not certain if Ava will even notice. “Yes, I do. But…” Ava dips her head in encouragement. Beatrice sighs and puts the box back in the chair. “But I’ve already organized everything so that it can be unpacked easily. There are…small numbered post-it tabs on the spine of each one with backups on the inside cover.”

“Wow, yes, I love it.” She steps away from the desk and toward one of the boxes, bending slightly to look at the cover of a book and clasping her hands together in front of her as though she’s preparing to do something very interesting. She picks up one of the constitutional law texts and holds it with surprising care. “Put me to work, boss.”

They make their way through the boxes quickly, because Beatrice is exceptionally well-organized and efficient, and move to the chairs by Beatrice’s desk to talk. Ava is listening, brow furrowed and leg bouncing in what Beatrice is almost certain is a sign of a tendency toward kinesthetic learning rather than boredom, as Beatrice talks about the intersections of gender and the law. She’s been on a tangent, but Ava asked about the book from her class, and then about Beatrice’s favorite part of the class, and then kept asking thoughtful questions. Typically, Beatrice would be hesitant to take up this much time and space, but she finds it surprisingly easy to lose herself in conversation with Ava, even catching herself making emphatic hand motions that she would normally suppress on instinct. She’s comfortable, in large part due to Ava, who has over the last twenty minutes or so leaned the smallest amount into Beatrice’s space anytime she hesitated, afraid she was being too much or too boring, and looked at her like she was about to say the most interesting thing on earth.

She stops talking when she spots Camila in the doorway, and Ava frowns at the disruption. Ava does it so genuinely, is so clearly actually displeased that Beatrice has stopped her explanation of the notice and comment process and what it means for Title IX. Beatrice's chest tightens with affection and something else; gratitude, she thinks, though that's not quite it. She's watching Ava, who appears to be somewhat consoled when she sees it’s Camila. She hands Ava a black t-shirt and then comes to stand beside Beatrice. Beatrice, who, despite herself, despite Ava’s reassurances, despite that perfect frown, still feels the need to apologize. This uncertainty about her own value is one of the many things from her parents that she's working to leave behind. “I’m sorry. I feel like that was probably more than what you wanted to know about Title IX.”

Ava shakes her head and finds Beatrice’s eyes, keeps them as says with a surprisingly serious tone, “Nope. Definitely want to buy you a beer and make you tell me more about literally all of that. If you’re interested in talking about it, I mean. I know maybe it’s like work? I’d also like to talk to you about other things.” In a role reversal that has Beatrice feeling a small spark of hope, Ava turns very subtly pink.

“No, no. I’d love to talk more about it. And about other things.” She means it. She wants to keep talking to Ava, wants to create opportunities for Ava to speak about herself. She wants to know her, so she is brave for a moment and says so. “I’d like to hear more about you.” The pink becomes less subtle. She’s beautiful.

Camila, delighted, says, “Yay! I knew you would get along. Sorry again about the interruption but,” she eyes Beatrice’s bookshelves and then the two of them with about a teaspoon of subtlety, “it looks like you two were productive. Ready to eat? Ava, we can stop at the bathroom for you to change. I’ll text Lilith.” Ava is up and moving toward the door with an enthusiastic nod, pondering her options for lunch aloud and wondering, without any hint of shame in her voice, if she should “even bother changing my shirt before we eat because, y’know.”

As Beatrice moves to follow her, Camila squeezes her elbow. When Beatrice turns, both of her eyebrows are raised and her smile is all too knowing. Her cheeks flush, again, and she shakes her head lightly. She knows she’ll be hearing more about this later but for now, Camila accepts her silence, linking their arms together and moving them toward the door.

#warrior nun #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #sister camila #sister lilith

16 notes · View notes

etchina-danjon · 1 year ago

Note

5A for TenTen who gets kidnapped and bred by the gang leader who keeps her as a breeding mare. He makes sure to keep her in by constantly drugging her to be docile and makes sure that it doesn't hurt the baby.

Tenten was assigned a solo mission to transport some important scrolls from one village to another. Everything was going fine until she was attacked by a gang. They surrounded her and overwhelmed her. Knocking her out and taking her back to their hideout. While she was knocked out, she was examined by the gang leader that took quite a liking to her. Deciding she would be the one to bear his children.

She was stripped naked and collared as the leader’s girl. He waited until she awoke to strike. Tenten struggled against him until he pushed a needle into her neck, injecting her with a drug that made her go limp. The drug sucked the fight right out of her. Made her dizzy and feel hot and good at the same time. It was easy to get her worked up and wet as she laid limp on his bed. Soon his large cock was thrusting in and out of her roughly. The room was filled with the sounds of Tenten’s cries and the wet sounds of their bodies slapping together. Her virginity was ripped from her but she really didn’t understand what was happening, just that she felt good.

The leader made sure to shove his cock right up against her cervix as he came, filling her womb with his hot seed. Tenten let out a loud cry, cumming around his cock as he filled her with seed. But he didn’t stop at one round, he roughly fucked Tenten throughout the night. Cumming inside her over and over again, making sure she would get pregnant.

It was no surprise that she quickly fell pregnant.

The leader made sure she was always drugged up and at his side. Tenten always felt out of it. Phasing in and out of being aware of what was happening. Sometimes she would sober up enough to be shocked at the sight of her pregnant body but as soon as she showed signs of being alert, she was drugged again.

Each month that ticked by, her stomach swelled more and more. Between the druggings and how nice she felt pregnant, Tenten was pretty calm, and affectionate. Was basically the leader’s lap pet that he could get to do whatever he wanted to. The sight of her pregnant body turned him on so much that often she would find herself bouncing on his cock like a toy as he felt her up.

Tenten hardly looked like the same person. Hair no longer in buns but gracefully fell down her body. The boss always made sure to keep her well kept and clean. Being as drugged up as she was, she couldn’t do much for herself so he had other women clean her up for him. He didn’t want other men touching her. Her stomach grew so large, sticking out quite a bit from her once thin frame. Her hips widened, her modest sized chest now larger and plump full of milk. The leader loved squeezing the milk out of her or attaching pumps to her nipples and watching them suck the milk out of her as she moaned.

Nine months went by so quickly. At least to her it did, given the fact that she was out of it through all of it. Made happy and content by the drugs. By now she was completely obedient to the leader and followed him around everywhere happily. She couldn’t even remember her old life from before being captured and knocked up by the leader. He was her owner, master, lover and that was all she needed to know and remember.

Labor happened so suddenly, it took her by surprise. Tenten was hit with sharp pains that tightened her stomach and made her whine out in pain. Even through the blissfulness the drugs gave her, the pain was still bad.

The leader was away and had her alone in his room. Tenten paced, whining as the pain got worse. Worse to the point that she found herself sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. She squirmed and rubbed her stomach, even through her drug induced haze, she seemed to realize that the baby was coming but she didn’t want to give birth without the leader present.

Sweat rolled down her forehead as she panted, the pressure and pain was at its peak. Tenten let out a startled cry as her water broke, splattering onto the floor below her. She was trembling so badly, fighting the urge to push,

“H-hurts so m-much… C-can’t p-push u-until M-master is back…” She stammered, panting, hands squeezing the arms of the chair.

#weapon master #hope this is what you wanted anon!

2 notes · View notes

ask-healthy-light · 2 years ago

Text

While everyone in the Empire was enjoying their lunch, Nox in particular, knowing Cadance was doing her best to make her feel more welcome there, back in Ponyville, after Rockhoof, Starswirl and Boom left the Palace to purchase groceries for dinner, they realised they knew not what they had to buy, so they knocked on the doors to the Palace again, where Spike gave them Meadowbrook's written list.

Before any of the three Stallions could ask him what they had planned for dinner, the doors closed, and they sighed and shrugged, after which they went to town, where the sweet scent of freshly baked bread and cupcakes filled the air, and they realised they had not eaten lunch, so Boom suggested to Starswirl and Rockhoof to get lunch, after they had bought all the groceries, which they agreed to.

Since Boom was more familiar with the area, especially the market in the town's centre, he took the lead, but he was forced to multitask, focusing on buying the groceries, while keeping an eye on the other two Stallions as well; wandering aimlessly, looking around in awe, they were impressed by the market, as it was unlike any they had visited before, even in the times before their disappearance.

Luckily, Rockhoof was easy to locate at all times, as he towered over every other Pony around, save for Big Macintosh, who Boom noticed unloading multiple barrels of apples and produce at the bakery, where he greeted him and Pinkie on his way; Starswirl, however, was not easy to find, for though he was easily recognisable whenever he wore his cloak and pointy hat, these were drying at the Palace.

To his unpleasant surprise, trying to find the Bearded Wizard in a grand crowd of Ponies, though he expected it to be easy, it turned out quite the opposite, and neither Boom, nor Rockhoof managed to find him; eventually, after returning to the bakery, Boom asked Rockhoof to stay here, while he ran around quickly to buy the groceries before he forgot, after which they could go look for Starswirl.

With a disgruntled snort, Rockhoof begrudgingly agreed to Boom's request, and sat down by the door, where Pinkie appeared out of nowhere, much to his surprise, but he knew this young Bearer, and gave her a smile when she bounced around energetically; still, he wished for Boom to return soon, as his strength was not of mind, but of body, and he knew not how long he could endure her endless energy.

Making his way through the dense crowd of Ponies, Boom went down Meadowbrook's list, running around the market countless times as he tried to find what he had to buy, while searching for Starswirl as well; eventually, breathing heavily, and sweating profusely, Boom had found everything and returned to the bakery, where he found Rockhoof helping Big Mac move more barrels while listening to Pinkie.

When she saw her friend of old slowly drag himself towards them, Pinkie quit bouncing mid-air, and, after a brief moment of confused silence from the others, she flew inside, and popped out of Boom's satchel with a bottle of water and a small bag of freshly baked buns, which she gave to Big Mac and Rockhoof as well, for which they gratefully thanked her, though some using fewer words than others.

After he had taken a minute to catch his breath and rest, Boom said he found everything they needed to purchase, yet he had not managed to find Starswirl, and he was starting to get somewhat worried; for though he knew the Bearded was powerful, he also knew from experience, that even the strongest, cleverest, and sharpest of Ponies, like the Pillars, could be caught off-guard by others, and hurt.

But before his worries and doubts could get out of hoof, Pinkie appeared again, popping up from one of the barrels of produce on the cart, making neither Big Mac nor Rockhoof flinch, and she told him she saw a grey, sad, and bearded Unicorn walking towards the Forest a little while ago, just before Boom returned with Rockhoof; then, Boom dropped his satchel, thanked Pinkie, and ran to the Forest.

When he remembered what Starswirl said about his life, Boom understood.

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Boomlord from @thedumbguywithaheart43

11 notes · View notes

iamgoingtoscreamstuff · 6 months ago

Text

Deleted stuff

He sat in the middle of the living room, his head bobbing side to side in time with the music he had blasting as he huddled over the protector. Someone had knocked it over last night on their way to his room.

The poor thing was at least thirty years old and needed to be out of its misery, but he was pretty sure his father would manifest himself solely to slap him if he tried to get rid of it. So here he was forcing the poor old thing back to life.

He paused his work -and his music- as he heard the familiar pitter patter of feet against the floor. He looked over his shoulder to find his daughter making her way toward him. The bow in her hair bobbled precariously as she toddled over to his side, her arms full of all sorts of baubles and trinkets. He swallowed thickly.

“Those for me?”

“Oh course papa!” She smiled, setting her pile to the ground. “I’m going to make you soooo pretty.”

He blinked.

“Oh, uh I’m not sure that-“

He stopped as she stepped in front of him, her eyes shining with sadness as she hung her head.

“I mean I’m so excited! What do you have in mind?” He stammered quickly.

Her face lit up as she bounced out of his view and began to rummage through her pile. She pulled a lipstick out that looked suspiciously like Evelyn’s.

“Did you ask mom for that?” He asked carefully.

She froze, her eyes widening as she made a small squeaking noise.

“I’ll be right back.”

She teetered off leaving him to fix the projector. He pulled out his phone to send a message to Jack while he waited for her to come back. The projector could wait for a bit. He was in the middle of answering a text when she waltzed back in. Her arms full of even more supplies.

“She said I could use her things.” She said proudly. “Sit here papa, you are about to be the prettiest dad ever.”

He sat criss-cross applesauce on the floor as she climbed onto the couch. She grabbed his hair in her chunky toddler hands and pulled it slightly.

“Hmmm.”

“Everything ok up there?” He asked, slightly panicked as he eyed the scissors in her pile. “Because I like my hair the length it is.”

“I think I will put twisties in your hair today.” She said finally, smashing her fingers against his scalp.

“Twisties?”

She nodded vigorously, miming twisting his hair. He nodded slowly and she, true to her word twisted a strand of his hair into a bizarre knot.

She hummed approvingly and grabbed another strand. He ignored the way her fingers kept yanking his head side to side when she couldn’t get his hair to twist the way she wanted it to. She stopped after a few “twisties” to use his head as a drum, singing along to the song he had been listening to before she came in. His face tugged into a smile as he reached for his phone to turn the music back on.

His daughter, seemingly aware that he was no longer watching her, launched herself off the couch. He groaned and reached his arm to catch her right before she face planted into the ground. Kids were such a handful. He was seriously getting tired of catching falling children.

She gasped as his arm grabbed her torso, her eyes filled with confusion. But it only lasted a moment before she giggled, squirming out of his arms as she studied him.

“First of all, don’t catch me again. I was jumping on purpose and not by accident. And second I do not think twisties look good on you.” She concluded, running back to the couch to climb it again.

She gathered her two twists and wrapped them around themselves to create a lumpy bun. He winced slightly as she dug a clip into his skin. He moved to stand up, but she scowled at him. She wasn’t done apparently.

She grabbed two large pink bows from her stockpile and placed them haphazardly onto his buns. He winced again as she dug the beret into his scalp in an attempt to make it secure.

“Turn around papa” she commanded “it’s time to make your face pretty.”

He obliged, turning to face her. She studied his face for a moment before nodding confidently.

“Yeah I can make you awesome.”

“Am I not awesome enough right now?” He laughed.

“No.” She dead panned. “Mom is much prettier.”

He nodded in solemn agreement as she grabbed his face. Her sticky toddler fingers stuck to his face as she maneuvered him to her will. She suddenly let go and shoved her fist in his mouth. He grimaced and quickly yanked her hand out. He ignored the taste of peanut butter and jelly on his tongue as he stared at her.

“What was that for?”

She shrugged. “ I don’t know.” She mumbled honestly.

“Those do not go in my mouth.” He said, removing her hands from near his face and setting them to the side.

“Ok.” She said

“I’ll let you do what you want to do, but if you do that again we’ll have to stop.”

She nodded silently, her head hung in shame. His stomach twisted as he watched her gather her things with much less vigor than before. He raised himself onto his knees and wrapped her in a hug. She grabbed him right back and nuzzled her head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry papa,” she said swaying softly, “Mom told me hands are gross but I forgot so I did it again. I’ll remember next time for sure though.”

He nodded and she detached her death grip to grab a palate and drag her finger across the pan. She grabbed his face tightly and smudged color over his cheeks.

Alekto stuck her tongue out as she worked, using eyeliner to draw flowers and hearts over his face. He held as still as possible as she concentrated, her brows knitted in determination.

“Where did you get that?” Evelyn’s voice rang out, high and screechy, her eyes twitching slightly.

“From your room? You said I could use your stuff.”

Evelyn took a deep breath as she pursed her lips. She moved her wide eyes to him. He gave a small wave.

“Do I look pretty?” He asked, striking a pose.

Her rigid posture fell and she smiled.

“Beautiful.” She walked over to the couch, setting their daughter in her lap. “I think he needs something for his eyes, yeah?”

Alekto bobbed her head excitedly.

“Right here?”

“Right there.”

Evelyn grinned as she picked up the ruined makeup. She grabbed his face, albeit much gentler and without the sticky fingers, and pointed to his eyelid.

“That’s where we’re going to put the color.” She said gently, “Dip that brush in the purple there- Wait you don’t know your colors yet- No to the left- Shoot, you don’t know your left from right either. “

He stifled a laugh from his spot on the floor. She shot him an angry look as she tried to help the toddler. He laughed again as their daughter dipped her finger in every color on the palate.

“If you don’t stop laughing I swear to God- No, honey that’s the wrong one. Put the brush in the one that looks like your blanket. Or the wall over there! Yes, that's the one!”

He flinched slightly at the sudden feeling of the brush on his eyelids.

“I think you just about jabbed his eye out there.” Evelyn muttered. “You need to be gentle with the brush.”

“We’re going to make you beautiful.” The toddler repeated, hushed.

“Yes, yes, beautiful.” She hummed, setting their daughter on the couch as she moved to retwist Alekto’s handy-work .

“I did a good job with those and you’re running them!” She screeched, her fingers digging into his skin.

“I’m just making sure the bow is nice and tight.” Evelyn responded easily, twirling his hair into the bow.

Alekto hummed disapprovingly as she watched before rolling her eyes and retracing the flowers on his cheek.

“You look ok I guess.”

“Not as good as mom.” Jason chimed in.

When had he wandered in?

He huffed but didn’t disagree. Where had Jason come from he wondered. He shook the thought aside as he looked at his wife.

“No, I don't think I’ll ever be as beautiful as your mother.” He smiled, grabbing Evelyn by her waist and pulling her down to sit in his lap.

“It’s true.” She said tossing her hair over her shoulder dramatically, “He’ll never be as gorgeous as me.”

He stood up, lifting her into his arms and waving to the two toddlers.

“I must take your mother elsewhere.” He cried, pointing his finger to the door.

This is a deleted chapter from my original idea. I was going to follow the family as they grew, and make Krow and Evelyn a couple, but decided to scrap that. That's why the ending is so abrupt and random

It was also based loosely off a real interaction I had with a kid at work. Toddlers are wild and I'm scared of them. Peanut butter is now a flavor I hate

#Not cannon!#Deleted scenes #this is a first draft lol #beginner writer #oc

0 notes

mintmatcha · 7 months ago

Text

Inevitable Things : chapter seven

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in the first two chapters, sorry gang :

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Wednesday starts with a phone call. You're fresh out of the shower when the screen on your phone starts flashing. In a scramble, you knock over almost everything in your tub to grab it in time.

“Hello-- is everything okay?” You wedge the phone into the crook of your shoulder and pinch the towel with your free hand.

“Hey, it's ya boy.” Denki's voice crackles with sleep and your panic resides immediately. “Do you wanna ride to work? I’m in your apartment complex.”

“What? Don't you live on campus?”

“Mm, I was staying with a friend. ” The muffled trill of a giggle bounces behind him, high and unfamiliar. “I’ll be over in fifteen-ish. I fly, you buy coffee, ‘kay?”

He hangs up without a real goodbye, the line practically going dead mid-syllable. It is not the strangest call you've ever gotten from Denki, but it’s up there. No matter; you're thankful for the ride this morning. Summer is starting to eat the city alive and you're happy to not have to deal with the stink tube that is the train. You do have to scramble to get ready in time, scooping up clothes from your laundry basket and throwing an outfit together without much thought.

An hour later, Denki's beater rolls up outside your door. You try not to look at the clock as you hurry over to the red monstrosity and kick some cans out of the way to get to your seat. Denki just nods to you as you get in; you ignore how sticky the pleather is. In yesterday’s clothes and a sheen of sweat, Denki is somehow more ruffled than he is every other day-- complete with an obscene amount of blossoming purple hickies down the side of his neck.

“Jeez, did you lose a fight or something?”

“Oh, oohhh,” he chuckles, throwing an arm over the back of your chair. He smells like sex-- and not in a good way. It’s sour like an onion. “I let her win.”

You push his arm back and groan. “Ew.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous.”

You point to his radio clock- it’s almost nine already. “Kaminari, drive! We’re going to be so late.”

He starts rolling, one hand barely on the wheel. “Oh, you’re so jealous that I’m getting laid and you aren’t.”

No, you’re annoyed that every man that shows you interest sexually turns out to BE a raging cock instead of GIVING you any.

“You don’t know that I’m not getting laid.”

“People getting dick don’t make that face.” He leans over and pokes your cheek. “That face, right there. I don’t make that face-”

“Watch the road!”

He almost crashes two more times before you guys pull into the parking lot. 9:02. You’re shaken and a bit nauseated, but Denki’s made you laugh enough that you’ve already forgiven him.

“We’re so late!” You scurry from the vehicle before he’s shut off the engine.

Kaminari cracks open another silver can of energy drink as he slowly peels himself from the seat. “No, we aren’t. Look! Aizawa just got here too.”

You glance up with the same tact as a deer in headlights. Parked right behind you is a very familiar sports car, your favorite blonde and your least favorite coworker standing right beside it. Both men are staring directly at you with very contrasting expressions: Hizashi excited, Aizawa enraged. The shorter man yanks on his hoodie strings, closing his hood comically tight around his head, and grumbles something to his friend. Hizashi nods enthusiastically. You sometimes forget they are long time friends, but you can see it in the way they subconsciously mimic each other’s movements. Their hair is even tied up in similar ways; Hizashi’s pin straight hair knotted beautifully into a bun, Aizawa’s jammed into a messy, almost bun shape, both sitting on the backs of their necks. It’s definitely a coincidence, but the thought of them doing this intentionally makes you crack a smile.

Aizawa immediately ducks his gaze after that and your stomach twists at the reminder of victory. A giggle bubbles up in your throat, but you manage to swallow it back down; he’s still bothered. Good. They’ve parked right behind you, close enough that none of you can pretend they didn’t see the other, but he’s certainly trying.

“Hizashi!” you coo loudly, much more ostentatious than you usually are. “How’s my husband?

“Oh, babygirl!” Mic throws his arms wide and blows your way in that airy, graceful way only he can manage. “You look--” His face falls to a grimace as Kaminari steps closer. “Oh, jeez, kid.”

Kaminari doesn’t even try to hide his hickeys. They’re getting darker, you swear. “Did you get into a fight with a vacuum cleaner?”

The younger man just rubs the back of his neck. “Haha, you know how it is.”

“I do.” Hizashi juts his tongue into his cheek. “But also, I don't. At all. This is excessive.”

Aizawa scoffs. His head is turned away from you, fixed on a point in the distance. He pulls his little black backpack over his shoulder and trudges towards the door.

“Button your collar before you enter the building or else I’m sending you home.” “You look awful.”

Kaminari blurts out an agreement, then turns back to you two. “What's gotten into his ass lately?”

You shoot him a knowing look. “He’s always like this.”

“No, it's worse lately!”

“I agree,” Hizashi chimes in. “ Shouta's been…”

“A bitch.”

“Kaminari!”

“No, he's right.” The tall man sighs. “I'm not sure what his issue is. He's probably stressed about the conference presentations.”

“Oh. Shit.” The UA Conference and Expo is actually a very big deal, not just for the company, but for the biomedical field in general, which is why it's so surprising that you completely forgot about it. It's part expo hall, part continuing education panel, and part research debuts. Hundreds of people flock to the city to see the newest models and equipment on display, including potential customers. In past years, Hizashi headed the sales floor, Aizawa presented research, and Yagi did everything else.

This year, everything else falls on you.

For a while, you were looking forward to the event; despite its prestidge, it’s actually a rather low maintenance trip for you. Shake some hands, share some business cards, apologize for Yagi’s absence and commiserate over missing him. It’s a glorified vacation to the city center--

Despite Aizawa.

“Is that coming up?” You try to remember the dates.

“Next week!” Hizashi laughs. “Girl, you booked the hotel rooms.”

“I know I just--” Hopefully this cold front lasts into next week; the whole conference will be easier if Aizawa gives you distance. “Time got away from me, I guess.”

“Happens when you get old.” Kaminari winks at you and you frown back.

“I’m just kidding! You’re so sensitive for your age.”

Hizashi struts over to you, his perfect smile a bit strained as he speaks. “Baby girl, give me a hug.”

It’s strange, but you throw yourself into his arms anyway and Hizashi squeezes you tight, even lifting you off of your feet a little with the force. He’s dipping in to directly speak into your ear, speaking through his teeth:

“Are you the one who sucked on this guy’s neck?”

You balk. How could anyone think you’re fucking Kaminari?

“Oh, no, he’s fucking someone in my apartment complex,” you whisper back.

“Oh, thank god.” Hizashi’s touch relaxes. Shit-- there’s not any trust there, huh? You can’t blame him; you do have a track record. You two break away and you adjust your clothes. Of course, you managed to pick the most wrinkled shirt in your closet.

“How’s the situation at home?”

Oh, great. You must look homeless.

“Oh, uh, good. I think,” you shrug. “Ordered some new lamps and stuff last night and now my bank account is aching.”

Kaminari looks surprised; you try not to discuss finances in front of the interns. It’s embarrassing, frankly, to be struggling at your big age.

“You know we’d be happy to help you out however--” Hizashi continues. “There’s still that extra room in our house. Save up some rent money for a bit and live with us.”

“I would never ask you guys to do that.”

Your stomach cramps at the thought of asking anyone for help. You aren’t destitute, but…

“Sales is always hiring. You’d make a lot more than you currently do.” Hizashi must see the discomfort on your face. “We’re actually expanding, so if you want to more to Wichita-”

“If you move to Wichita, I’m killing myself.” Kaminari sags with performed misery. “Where even is Wichita?”

“Kaminari, you aren’t even in a permanent position.” The interns rarely transition into full time employees after graduation. “You’ll be gone before I am.”

“Don’t blame me for going to college!”

“I also went to college.”

“What?” Both men seem confused. “For what?”

“Neuroscience.”

“What the fuck at you doing here?” Kaminari gasps. “Go cure cancer or something.”

“Really though, think about the sales position.” Hizashi gets you back on track. “We have positions that are not in Kansas too.”

“Don’t chase her away!”

“I would never! But a change of scenery might do her well. I love my work wife enough to set her free.”

“Again, Denki. You’re only going to be here for a couple more months.” You start towards the door. “Less time if you don’t cover your hickey!”

The three of you head inside, both you and Hizashi tugging on Denki’s collar to try and hide the bruises. It’s a fool’s errand; there’s a grape sized mark right under his ear, completely unhidable. Hizashi goes his own way after a bit and the two of you head down towards your desk. It’s so much later than usual; hopefully someone else made coffee this morning, or else there’s going to be some grumpy people-

When you turn the corner, there’s no table. No table, no machine, nothing. Only the scuffs on the floor from where the legs once were.

You turn back around the corner and then come back. No, it’s still not there. Kaminari watches you like you’re going insane.

“Where's the coffee machine?”

He shrugs at you, not stopping. “I dunno, man. Ask Pinky.”

Ochako looks more flustered than usual, her pink cheeks burned red as she passes her coworker in the hallway. Her arms are filled with files; crunch time is running everyone ragged. Launch of the second model is expected to be in less than three months and there’s an almost impossible amount of work to be done.

“The coffee- Oh, um. It was moved to engineering.”

You stare at her and try to rationalize this. “Why?”

“Mr. Aizawa said to.” She smiles, apologetic, like she knows something you don’t. She probably does, but you can’t seem to care.

“Well.” you toss your things on to your desk. “I'm going to go talk to him.”

Ochako goes a bit pale at that. “Be careful, he’s really-”

You’re already halfway down the hall.

For once, engineering is booming and alive. Most of the senior partners work from home, but there seems to be something that brought most of them in today. It’s almost unsettling to see so many people working; it makes this place feel full. A couple of familiar faces look your way as you stride in, past the tinkering and typing, and go all the way to the back. Sure enough, there sits the ever so familiar coffee table, the machine percolating softly where it sits right outside Aizawa’s office door.

Oh. This. This is the real declaration of war.

It’s so believably petty and childish that it completely boggles your mind. There’s no reason to touch it! No reason to change anything! What is it about men coming into your life and moving your fucking furniture?

Aizawa’s door is closed. You don’t knock. Throwing open the door, the man himself sits behind his monitors, only the very top of his head visible. His grays glitter under the fluorescent lights and you get some sick pleasure out of knowing he’s aging, that he’s old and alone and-

Aizawa raises a brow. “Do you mind?”

Shit, you’ve been quiet this whole time. You stammer wildly and point to the desk like a petulant child.

“D-did you move this?”

Aizawa doesn’t look up from his work. He types so quickly that you fear he must be making a litany of typos. “I’m busy.”

This time, you steel yourself before you talk.

“Did you move the coffee machine?” you press, stepping further into his office. You can see him clearer now; the man leans far back into his chair, the plastic creaking in protest, and sighs. He closes his eyes for one beat, two beats, three beats-- you almost think you’ve broken him. Finally, he grants you the decency of eye contact, glancing up over his glasses’ rim.

“I did.”

“Well,” you flounder for a second. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I can.”

Not the answer you were looking for. You point with your open hand again, huffing even louder. You’re aware that everyone behind you is a lot quieter now, most of the typing subsided. One of the other engineers, Vlad, is just staring at you through the glass paneling; you can see him from the corner of your eye, trying to mind his own business and failing. You’re being too loud, but you can’t make yourself any softer right now.

“Move it back.”

“No.” Lips pulled taut in disappointment, Aizawa gives you a heady sigh, like a father scolding a child. He pulls the sleeve to his sweatshirt taut over his hand and uses the fabric to clean loose drops of coffee from the rim of his thermos. Disgusting brown spots dot the neon yellow sleeve. “The world doesn’t cave to your wants.”

Fury burns your cheeks.This isn’t the place to make a scene. Not in front of an entire department. You can feel your hands quivering with pure anger as you turn on your heel and try to regulate your breathing-

“I'm sure that pouting act worked on your junky boyfriend, but it doesn't work here.”

He says it under his breath, but clear enough that, in front of you, Izuku sits straight up and sucks air in through his teeth in abject horror.

Touya's drug problem is the loudest secret in your life. You deny it as much as possible, but everyone knows the truth. It's what's ruining him-- ruining you by extension.

Oh, fuck it.

Fuck it!

You’re going to make a fucking scene.

You wheel back around so fast that your hair hits you in the face, but it does nothing to slow you down. “You’re a fucking jerk.”

Aizawa’s eyebrows quirk up in genuine surprise. You aren’t one to curse in the office. “Want to repeat that?”

Yes, actually, you do. You stomp in, fists balled as you bump against his desk just hard enough to slosh his overly full thermos. Leaning over the monitors, you get as close as you can before continuing.

“I said that you’re a mo-ther-fuc-king jerk.” You hit every syllable as hard as you can.

Aizawa stands now too, leaning on his hands. His face is inches from yours, so close that you can smell the touch of coffee and mint on his breath. He’s clean shaven today, no little whisker to hide his frown lines and sunken cheeks. Bits of speckled melanin -sun damage and scars- litter his skin, a sea of tiny imperfections under the jagged, brutal cut across his cheek bone. That healed skin goes taut when he starts to boom.

“Do you want to know why I really moved it?” Aizawa spits. His nearly black eyes bore into yours, unblinking, unrelenting “I don't want to see you. I don't want to ever hear your voice. I don’t want to smell your perfume. I don’t even want to be in your vicinity.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you aren't sad-- you're boiling, so impossibly angry and hurt that you can’t find the words or logic for it.

“You are-” Your throat is tight with emotion and you have to fight through it to stay sounding angry. “The most rude, selfish, insufferable-”

“I'm insufferable? Me?” He leans back and guffaws a clearly fake sound. “You are the most weak willed, soft-”

“You're just an asshole!” you shout. “A huge fucking asshole that everyone hates!”

“Hey, uh.”

You both snap around to see Izuku, awkwardly standing in the doorway. He stands uber straight, arms tucked tight to his side and chin in the air. He opens his mouth to speak. “I-”

“Does it look like I want you to interrupt?” Aizawa doesnt let the boy breathe. “Do we not look busy?

Izuku goes wide eyed and you wheel back around. The motion nearly knocks over both of Aizawa's monitors. “Don't yell at him!”

“He's not seven, he doesn't need the princess defending him.”

“Call me princess one more time.”

“Tell me how to run my department one more time.”

“I should! You’re an awful boss and everyone hates you, you fucking cunt-”

“Both of you.” When you turn back around, Vlad is there now, grim faced. He's a massive man -a power lifter in his free time- with gray hair and a downturned mouth. His shoulders practically dwarf the doorway. The way he looms steals the air from your lungs; you shrink back and shut your mouth.

It apparently has the same effect on Aizawa; he's in charge of Vlad, but his presence seems to mellow the smaller man out. He groans and flops back down to his chair and waves his hand vaguely in the air.

“Coffee machine stays. You go. Goodbye.”

You don't move.

“Goodbye.” Aizawa waits a moment, then repeats it. “Goodbye.”

You look between him and Vlad. The big man nods and steps out of the way, silently encouraging your exit. It's a loss-- and an embarrassing one at that. It takes effort to keep your chin up as you leave.

“Oh, and tell Kaminari that he reeks,” Aizawa shouts after you.

You storm down the hall, past the curious faces. You’re trying to stay angry, but it’s fizzling out into embarrassment fairly quickly.

“Kaminari,” you say, a bit louder than you should. “You smell.”

The blonde’s jaw drops. “Dude, I drove you here! Why am I catching strays?”

Someone from HR checks in with you later that day, with her placid smile and worried brow. You’re given a slap on the wrist for calling someone an asshole, but the meeting is mostly focused on if you're alright and comfortable. As much as you hate the guy, you don't want him to lose his job; you insist that things are fine, but you open up a job browsing site as soon as she’s gone.

Yagi would forgive you for leaving-- fuck, he'd probably applaud you. You start googling Wichita.

Aizawa is sent home midday. You just watch the back of his awful yellow sweatshirt as he stomps out the door. You resist the urge to flip him off behind his back.

Later that night, when you’re cooled down and tucked into bed, Hizashi texts you.

-I heard what happened.

-Can you guys hold it together for the con?

-I’d really hate it if you killed each other in my car.

You don’t respond because you don’t know the answer.

You google Wichita again.

371 notes · View notes

prettyboykatsuki · 4 years ago

Note

"do you guys wanna hear my horny nurse deku au"

It is I 🐼 anon who has returned to infest your inbox once again.

pls let your nurse!deku fics see light of day. pls

my full fic isn't complete but here r some thots.. as a treat

cw ;; medical malpractice ehdskljs, deku having a crush, smut/fingering, fem!reader, creampies, messy/kinda public sex

nurse!deku is your cute mild-mannered nurse who helps you out when you come in for some a check up. under new insurance - you have a somewhat mild and chronic injury for childhood + some migraines you wanna ask about. you're not expecting the most attractive man you've ever seen in ur life walking through to you

nurse!deku in a pair of scrubs with his hair pulled up into a soft man-bun, greeting you with a sheepish smile and gloved hands. youre so pretty but you're a patient n he keeps having to remind himself of that as he sees you sitting on the examination table. wearing that cute little outfit, bare things smushed together.

nurse!deku who spends a little too much time with you. the doctor is busy as always and you look lonely - start telling him about your migraines because he's just so easy to talk to. asks about your medical history. what're you in for and why.

nurse!deku who spends a little too much time thinking about the fact that you're on birth control while he checks your vitals. who's heart stutters when he's listening to your heartbeat - hand on your chest. your eyes closed as you take a deep breath. holds in his own.

nurse!deku who listens to your woes and realizes that your migraines are from over-working - poor you. and you sigh, laughing hopelessly about how that's probably true. that you don't get much time to yourself these days to relax and how even this doctors visit feels like a luxury - mouth all pouty, tugging effortlessly on his heart strings.

nurse!deku who swallows thickly as he suggests to you he has a way to fix your headaches - just for a while anyways. that he gets it - he always has the night shift and that he can help you both out if you let him.

nurse!deku who lays you out on the examination table with a chair propped underneath the doorknob. gloved hands that hoist your thighs up and bunches your skirt around your middle. has your breath caught in your throat as his gloved fingers trace the outline of your pussy - stood between your legs with a starry look in his eyes

nurse!deku who's cursing himself for being unprofessional while he's got a mouth on your neck, bouncing you on his cock with his fingers hooked in your cheek. his scrubs pulled just past his thigh, gagging you to make sure you keep quiet. fucking your sweet little pussy with all of his strength. his cock is nice and big - stretches you out and relaxes you just like he promised it would. you've cum twice now and it's made the examination table slick but he's merciless still.

nurse!deku who's grateful that the doctors taking so fucking long as he fucks you in every position possibly. he's got the most impossible stamina because he takes care of his health n works out so often. got your knees pinned up to your ears, creaming around him. takes you seated in his lap with his mouth on your tits - the feeling of latex on your skin making everything feel extra hot, specially when he smacks his hands against your ass or spreads your cheeks apart.

nurse!deku who cums inside of you when you beg for it b/c he knows you're on birth control - saw in on your chart. who keeps calling you pretty and saying thank you, that he swears he's not usual like this but fuck you were just too tempting for him to ignore. who has to pull your panties up while you're full of his cum because there's a knock on the door - kisses your forehead real sweet while he wipes the exam table down and helps you stand on wobbly feet before sitting back down again.

nurse!deku who's walking around the office trying not to get hard again at the fact you're sitting full of his cum while talking to the doctor. who waits for your appointment to be over to come find you again and ask you with a blush on his face when you'll be back like he didn't just nail you.

nurse deku... Nurse Deku

#nurse!deku #deku x reader #bnha x reader #aha..aha..#spice cake #tw dubcon #tw medical malpractice

2K notes · View notes

massivedrickhead · 2 years ago

Text

bechloe week day 5: single parent

Words: 1673

Notes: another entry for bechloe week! I wish this was longer (and better) but I haven’t had a lot of time to write lately and this was all I could manage.

I hope you enjoy anyway!

Read on AO3

“Hey Chlo’? Can you come over? Please?”

Over the sounds of a screaming baby, Chloe could just about hear the frayed edges of Beca’s voice on the phone. She could hear the strain. Feel the effort it was taking for her to keep herself together.

“I’m on my way,” Chloe replied, ignoring how late it was and how tired she felt.

She’d promised Beca she’d help her, that she’d be there for her. She wasn’t about to break that promise.

She threw a hoodie over her pyjamas and drove over to Beca’s still in her slippers.

Chloe could hear Maddy’s screaming before she’d even made it into Beca’s apartment, and when she pushed the door open she felt like the wall of sound was going to knock her over.

Beca was pacing the living room, the screaming baby in her arms was fighting and wriggling as much as a 9-month-old was able to.

Beca’s eyes met hers in a silent plea for help.

At least Chloe assumed it was silent. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to hear Beca even if she’d spoken.

Her eyes were bloodshot and full of unshed tears and her hair was unwashed and piled in a messy bun on top of her head.

“What do you need?” Chloe asked. “How can I help?”

“Can you take her? Please?” Beca replied.

Chloe wasted no time in taking the baby from Beca’s arms into her own.

Maddy was usually all smiles for her Aunt Chloe, but not tonight. She screamed even louder as she was taken out of her Mom’s arms and she wriggled around, chubby arms outstretched in Beca’s direction for her to take her back.

Beca looked on the verge of falling apart. As if each cry out of Maddy’s mouth was breaking something inside her.

“I’ve got her Bec, go do what you need to do,” Chloe said, gently bouncing Maddy on her hip, shushing her softly.

Beca hesitated but Chloe gave her a reassuring nod and smile, and Beca hurried out of the room, shutting her bedroom door behind her.

Maddy’s cries got even more desperate, and Chloe began pacing the room with her. She felt a little out of her depth, to be honest. She was used to seeing Maddy during the day when she was giggly and playful, she didn’t have much experience with babies when they were like this.

“You’re really giving your Mama a hard time, huh?” Chloe said, wishing she knew how to help. “I know, it must be really hard when you’re upset and you can’t explain why.”

Maddy continued to sob, her hands pushing against Chloe’s chest as she tried to wriggle free.

Chloe glanced at the bedroom door, wondering what Beca was doing and if she should check on her. She couldn’t imagine how hard this must be on her. How difficult it must be when you have to do everything yourself.

Chloe helped out when she could, and she hoped she was able to make things even a little bit easier for Beca, but she knew it wasn’t really enough. Beca was still doing all the really hard stuff by herself.

Beca’s bedroom door opened and the brunette stepped out, looking a little sheepish. Chloe could tell that the tears that had been in her eyes when she’d first arrived had now been shed.

At the sight of her Mom, Maddy wriggled harder, her arms stretching towards Beca again.

“I’m here baby,” Beca said softly, taking Maddy back into her arms, and placing a kiss on the top of her head.

It seemed that being back in her Mom’s arms again made Maddy temporarily forget what had been making her so distraught before, and her cries began to quieten down as she lay her head on Beca’s chest.

Beca paced a little more as Maddy slowly stopped fussing, her tiny fist gripping the fabric of Beca’s shirt as her sobs subsided and she fell asleep.

“Thank you for coming over,” Beca said, her voice quiet as she carefully sat down on the sofa, Maddy still in her arms.

“Of course, Bec. I promised you that I’d be here if you needed me, and I meant it,” Chloe said.

“I think she’s teething or something. She’s been screaming like that all night, and nothing I was doing was working and I just… I needed a break. It kills me when she cries like that. I feel so useless. She’s so upset and I can’t do anything to help her. I can’t… I can’t do this Chlo’. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Beca’s voice broke slightly as tears filled her eyes again.

“Hey,” Chloe said, softly. “You’re doing great, Beca. She’s a happy healthy baby and she loves you.”

Beca let out a huff of a laugh and wiped her eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding Maddy against her chest.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think it would be this hard. When Jesse left I thought… I really thought I could do it on my own, not that I had a choice. I don’t think I can do it on my own anymore.”

Maddy stirred in her arms and Beca fell silent, freezing in place to see if she would wake up and start screaming again.

“I’m gonna go put her to bed,” Beca said when Maddy settled again.

Chloe watched as Beca carefully stood up and carried her into the bedroom, only to hear the sounds of Maddy crying again almost immediately.

“Okay,” she heard Beca say, resignation in her voice. “Okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Beca returned a few minutes later, Maddy still held in her arms, a tiny fist clutching her shirt, her sobs beginning to die out again.

“I guess she’s not going back in the crib yet,” Beca said, sitting back down.

“She clearly loves her Mama so much that she doesn’t want to be away from her,” Chloe said, feeling that same warmth in her chest that she got every time she saw her best friend be a parent.

“I wish she could express that in a quieter, less soul-destroying way,” Beca said, closing her eyes briefly as she let her cheek rest against the top of Maddy’s head. “I love her so much. I was trying to think if there was anything I wouldn’t do for her, and there isn’t. It makes me wonder… Did my Mom feel this way about me? And if she did, when did she stop? And what if I stop feeling it for Maddy?”

“You aren’t your Mom,” Chloe said. “You are going to love and protect that little girl until you physically can’t do it anymore.”

“How do you know that?” Beca asked. Her voice was quieter and the fear in it was so much clearer. “What if one day I do something or say something, and it hurts her so bad that she’ll carry it with her forever? What if I do that again, and again until she’s… What if I make her like me?”

“Beca, you aren’t your Mom,” Chloe said again, her heart breaking at the fear in Beca’s voice.

“But it’s a cycle, isn’t it? My Grandma treated my Mom badly, so she treated me badly,” Beca said. “What if it’s all just inevitable?”

“Bullshit,” Chloe said, frowning. “Bec, you aren’t going to turn out like her, it isn’t inevitable. You’re aware of the cycle, so you can break it. You will break it.”

Beca sniffed and nodded, letting a few tears slip down her cheeks. “I wanna be a good Mom,” she said, her voice breaking again.

“You already are,” Chloe said.

“It’s,” Beca swallowed down the lump in her throat, “it’s so hard. I’m so tired all of the time, and I feel like I’m just making it up as I go along.” She wiped her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I called you up in the middle of the night to come and listen to my kid scream and me cry. You don’t have to stay, it’s late.”

“You can call me any time, you know that,” Chloe said. She swallowed and looked at the tired and defeated expression on her best friend’s face, and at the beautiful sleeping baby held protectively against her chest. It made something in her own chest ache, and then she felt a sudden flare of anger at Jesse.

Didn’t he realise what he’d run away from? What he’d given up?

“Beca, what if… What if I came to stay for a little while?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… What if I moved in? I could help you with Maddy and then you wouldn’t have to do it all alone,” Chloe said. She gave a small shrug. “My lease is almost up on my apartment, and yours is closer to the veterinary clinic. Plus you already know I’m a good roommate.”

Beca smiled but still looked doubtful. “Why would you want to do that? You realise you’d never get another good night’s sleep again, right? Your life would suddenly become all about diapers, and crying, and… PAW Patrol.”

Chloe laughed softly. “That sounds like a pretty good life, you know?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“100%,” Chloe said. “I’m not saying that you need help, because I think you’re doing an amazing job, but maybe you’d like some help? And if you do, I want to be the one to help you. Just because you’re a single Mom it doesn’t mean you have to do this all on your own.”

Beca smiled again, and her free hand found Chloe’s and squeezed.

“Thank you,” she said.

Chloe shook her head. “You don’t need to thank me. I think maybe I need this too. It can get kinda lonely in that apartment by myself.”

“I think Maddy and I can solve that for you,” Beca said, laughing as she kept her hand on Chloe’s. “You won’t get another moment to yourself for the foreseeable future.”

“I can’t wait.”

#bechloe week #bechloe week 2022 #bechloe week day 5 #bechloe week single parent #single parent au #bechloe au #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #bechloe #pitch perfect fanfiction #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect #fanfiction #fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #beca #chloe

42 notes · View notes

makeitagood0neao3 · 4 years ago

Text

Safe Inside

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2,754

Warnings: Non/con. Explicit sexual content. Dark!Peter Parker AU. 18+ only!

The knock on your apartment door couldn't have come soon enough. After a long, tiring day working virtually, all you wanted was your take out, likely still warm from the restaurant downtown. Hair in a messy bun, long shirt covering a pair of shorts you padded to the door. Looking through the peephole, just to be safe. You couldn’t be too careful nowadays.

You opened the door to see your usual delivery guy standing before you, grey Supreme hoodie beneath a black coat, the hood pulled over his head. In his hand were the handles of a plastic bag as he balanced a soda on top of it.

“Greek delivery for a pretty lady in apartment 410?” He asked, barely able to contain his smile.

“Hey Pete,” you greeted, matching his energy. “I just Venmo’d you.”

“You better not have included a tip, Y/N.” Peter handed over the soda and bag before grabbing his phone from his pocket to check for the transaction. “I told you to stop tipping me.”

“I know you did,” you answered smuggly. “But you deserve a tip when you give me life by baklava.” He smiles back before peering into the apartment behind you. He was always doing that; checking, observing. You only ever ordered dinner for one, but that didn’t stop him from being curious. Not one to easily trust, you know the little world you built can be easily destroyed if you let the wrong person in.

He never asked if you were seeing someone or overstepped. The most flirting you had done with this younger man was to tell him that if he got straight A’s this semester at the university, you’d invite him inside for a drink.

“Yeah, yeah. I appreciate you. I gotta run, but I’ll text you.” He waved and made his way down the hall.

Using your foot to kick your door closed you locked it with your free hand and set the food down on the counter. Setting your Spotify playlist to shuffle on 80’s rock before digging in at your tiny dining room table that barely fits in your small apartment.

You met Peter on a whim. Never one to plan meals out in advance, you were often left to starve or eat cereal for dinner after working. Never one to leave your apartment when it was dark out, you settled for having dinner delivered. Peter was delivery guy on a food delivery app and learned your dinner routine and favorites quickly. Which was surprising, because you couldn’t possibly be the only person in Queens ordering take out every other night.

And he couldn’t be the only delivery guy around, but he somehow became your usual delivery guy and you, his regular. Usually one to get chips as a side at a nearby deli, you didn’t order any one evening. He messaged you No chips tonight?

It surprised you, but you brushed it off, telling him you were cutting back on junk food. He dropped off the meal at your door with a knock, but by the time you opened it, he was gone. Sitting at the top of the paper bag was a bag of your favorite chips.

Always one to drop off your food quickly and not stay to chat, you caught him one night to thank him and tip in cash. Since then, you two would talk in your doorway briefly, mostly keeping your friendship to text as you were both busy. After a year of limited in person social interaction, any casual conversation over your threshold was greatly accepted. One day soon you’d venture outside, but with the availability to have nearly everything delivered, you doubted that day would come soon. You just weren’t ready.

Soon you ditched the app and just text him when you wanted dinner and he dropped it off to you. The price for you didn’t change, but gave him some extra. You honestly didn’t know why he chose to deliver food; he was always dressed extremely nicely in name brand clothes and you later found out he has a lucrative position at Stark Industries.

Once you had asked him why he chose to do this, in the literal rain and snow, and he told you that it was something to do. He got bored often and it was better than sitting in a lab all night. He made it seem like he did this for several people, but you didn’t see how he had the time to.

In the middle of scrolling on your phone, there’s a slow delay in registering what you’re seeing. Shaking your head and blinking hard, the sensation didn’t go away. Your body seemed to relax as a deep buzz set in and your body movements sluggish. Bringing the fork up to your mouth for another bite, you missed completely, the rice pilaf dropping onto the table. You tried for another bite and this time succeeded.

Are you... high?

You tasted the mineral chalkiness before you noticed the white powder poorly mixed into your rice pilaf. Brain fuzzy, you tried to analyze the substance. Thinking it strange, you drank from your take out cup of soda to wash it down. It became harder to swallow each sip, but you had already finished half the meal.

A knock at your door echoes through the wood. Each footstep towards the door bounces between your ears. Struggling with the lock, you finally got it open, your legs almost numb and your arms heavy. On the other side of the threshold stands Peter, his hood over his head, eyes assessing you through his lashes as his head angles down.

“Pete?”

You feel his arms around you before the whoosh registers in your head. Blinking hard, you are lying on your back, limbs heavy. Some time must have passed, but you can’t be sure.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered from above you. “I think I gave you too much.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, a shiver blankets your skin. You let out a whine when your tongue refuses to curl with your words. It lies heavy, your jaw loose as you slur out questions.

“Peter?” You try again. Your question is slurred and there’s a pitched whine to your voice.

“Shhh, this is for your own good.”

“Mmph” you mumble, unsure if you actually feel hurt right now at this moment. Your movements are heavy and slow, like running through water. Your back is against something soft that smells like your fabric softener. Your bed. When did you get here?

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Now I can finally have you.” His hands seem to be frantic as he pulls your shorts from your hips and down your thighs before discarding them. Is he frantic or is this normal speed? His coat is gone and he pulls his hoodie over his head, his shirt stuck inside it. He’s next to you a fraction of a moment later

His warm hands graze your hips as he pulls the oversized shirt off of you, the crack of static electricity sparking from your hair as it's pulled through the collar in your ears. His hand gently rests your head back down on the pillow. You whine again and try to cover your bare chest with your small hands. He notices and pulls them away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he reassures, mistaking your modesty for insecurity. He’s lying on top of you now, chest to chest. The heat of his bare skin as he presses into you, his hands tracing the shape of your waist and hips. He seems to be mesmerized.

“We can’t-” you want to scream, but even you aren’t sure your thoughts matched what came out of your mouth. Your hands try to push him off of you, but he’s too solid, too in control. When that doesn’t work, you slap his chest, but you don’t really feel the impact on your palm. You’re too numb. He grabs your wrist.

“I don’t use my hands to harm and you won’t either.” He says this firmly, eyes locked on yours, but follows up with, “Behave or I’ll have to tie you up so you don’t hurt yourself.” The latter comes out softer, more timid like the Peter you know.

His head dips down as he places sloppy, unpracticed open mouth kisses on your neck and shoulder. Quickly this turns into full sucking. You angle your chin to the side, scanning your nightstand for something, anything to help you. You eye a book, hardcover, heavy hand reaching up to grab for it. Maybe you can hit him hard enough to buy time.

Peter catches your movement and lets out an irritated, though shaky, sigh as it leaves his lips. “What did I say?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, silver device. He grabs both of your arms and places each palm on an iron bar on the headboard before a white, sticky, material shoots from it and seals your hands to it. You pull, but they don’t budge. He tosses it aside and slides down your body as you fight against your restraints.

The cool air brushes against you where your panties were. Vision unfocused, try to reconcile the split image of him and merge it into one. It’s dim in here, but it looks like he has your panties in his fingers as he tosses them aside. He lowers himself to his forearms, eyes never leaving your face. Or you think he’s looking at your face.

His nose brushes against your slit, tentatively, as you flinch. Your tongue is motionless in your mouth, but feels swollen, like it will suffocate you. All the things you want to say are being swallowed in your constricted throat.

His tongue pokes out as you manage to shake your head a fraction bit side to side. It probes your folds, uncertain. It takes him a few attempts, but he seems to find a technique he likes. The flat of his tongue swiping up as he breaks eye contact and his eyes roll back, indulged in the taste of you.

The sight of him enthralled in your most delicate region forces a squeak from you. His eyes snap open and his hands grip your hips a bit harder as he dives his mouth onto you. Seemingly encouraged by your noises and movements.

“You taste so good, baby.” He says, breathless, before he dives back in. Suddenly, his mouth finds your clit and he flicks his tongue against it hard. It’s too much pressure and it has you wriggling, brow furrowed.

He seems to notice this, because he modifies and begins sucking on your clit instead. A shock wave is sent through you, your hips angle up to meet his mouth eagerly. Taking this as a sign to continue, he inserts two fingers inside you, stretching your hole.

Quivering, you try to fight off the orgasm building, thighs clenching his head. He seems superhuman as his fingers never cease their rhythmic curling inside you and his mouth sucks the life from you. Whatever he gave you makes it impossible for you to take deep breaths and the orgasm that drenches your body in sweat steals the air from your lungs. He slows his motions as you ride his fingers and mouth before slowly removing both from you.

He seems proud of himself as he says, “I’ve always wanted to do that to you.” It’s almost endearing, but then you remember you’re drugged and bound.

Stalking you like the prey you are, he crawls up your body and slides his pants and briefs off his hips. He’s already hard as you try to focus your vision on him. Unable to tell how thick he is, you wonder if it will hurt. Perhaps if he caused you pain, your body would snap and find the adrenaline you need to get away. You pull against the bars again, hoping to break free. In the very least, your head lulls side to side in protest.

“I didn’t bring a condom, but we don’t need to worry about that. I’ll always take care of you.” He says, his forearm resting next to your head while his other hand reaches down, lining himself up with you. He pushes forward, breaching your entrance. Removing his hand, it moves to cup your head in his hand, sound muffled as he presses his palm hard against your skull.

Unable to move your head as he cradles it, your eyes flutter, unable to make him out clearly. His eyes penetrate yours, his eyes a deeper brown than you noticed before. His lips are parted as he catches his breath.

He slowly pushes forward, inch by inch. Your wet channel stretches and forms to him as he slips inside you. Despite the heaviness in your limbs and numbing to your skin, you can feel how your body accommodates him. The feeling of him is amplified by his heavy breathing in your ear as he pulls back and slams back into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” You try to tune him out, the only thing you really focus on is the wet sound of your slick as he draws more from you. Your body operates on sensation alone and all you can feel is him. He finds a rhythm that seems inhumanly fast as his hips push yours into the mattress harder and harder.

He presses his chest against yours again and you can’t tell whose body temperature is higher. The desire within you builds. Fighting through the haze, you cry out, spine arching off the bed. The fabric is damp beneath your hips and you wish you could be embarrassed by it.

Both of your breaths grow louder, more frantic. On particular thrusts when he tilts his hips. the tick of his cock angles up to hit your g spot, you let out a moan. Encouraged by this, the corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky smile.

“Louder, baby.” He commands breathlessly, seeming to find his courage.

He lifts his chest from yours and kneels, his hands lifting your hips up with him, your ass no longer on the bed. Grabbing for your ankles, hooking your heels over his brawny shoulders, he slams back into you. His forearm wraps around your shins, holding them in place while his opposite fingers find your sensitive clit. Letting out breathless gasps, you can’t catch your breath or restrain your vocal cords. He continues plowing into you, fingers rubbing diagonally, frantically, against you.

“Come for me, Y/N. Soak my cock.” Something about this version of Peter, this feral side of the sweet delivery guy you thought you knew, makes you come again. Eyes rolling back, your lids closing as his hips become frantic. He squeezes your legs like a lifeline as he comes inside you, a loud grunt from above you.

He pulls out of you and lowers your hips to the bed. The euphoria sets in and your taught muscles relax into the bed. Leaning over you and he connects his nose with yours as he catches his breath. You’re both hot, a thin layer of sweat over your skin, but that could be from whatever he gave you. Your shoulders are stiff and you try to tug again on the headboard.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “those will dissolve soon.”

Abruptly, he gets up, wiping his cock against the inside of your panties, before he slips them back on and settles them on your hips. His come drips out of you and into the panties, keeping you wet and reminded of him. How did this happen? You never let anyone inside the safety of your home.

Moments pass as you process this. Faintly, you hear his feet on the carpet before he’s back in your room, sipping on the soda he brought you.

“Thirsty?” He asks and angles the straw to your mouth.

“My shoulders hurt,” you murmur out.

“Then next time don’t fight me. I think you understand that now, don’t you?”

Even without touching you, he is still inside of you. There is a faint pulsing from your clit that radiates down to the soles of your feet. Rhythmic and matches your pulse as you come down. Your arms and thighs goosebump from the chill in the air and you can feel the balloon in your head deflate. But you’re still unable to respond to him so you lie there, surrendering to his power over you.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #peter parker #spider-man #inappropriate use of web slinger #dark fic

512 notes · View notes

sugar-petals · 4 years ago

Text

🌹 Sub!SuperM 18+ HC: Riding Their Faces

↳ NOTE. These guys... I swear. Bringing some heat to the dash right here. Enjoy the SuperMadness 👀

word count. 3.7k | bullet points | ot7

WARNINGS. ⚠️ all explicit, cum play, latex, hair & sweat kink, bondage, spit, brat taming, toys, breath play, ass fixation going strong, dominant reader, femdom, degradation, hardcore, veins kink, graphic language, strap-ons, crying kink, clothed sex, some crack

⌜ 💋 byun baekhyun ⌟

▸ strength: energy

not for the faint of heart. baekhyun thoroughly enjoys you giving it to him roughly; it’s the leader being led, how sexy is that

i spy with my femdom eye, baekhyun likes the bossy dommes who bring him to his knees — quite literally.

case in point: hates seeing you hold back. tells you to just bounce on him how you want it. no fumbling around, it’s gotta be hot and proper.

whatever you’re insecure about he hasn’t even noticed. the more confidently you’re taking your designated seat, the better. this shit’s gotta make him all loud and squeaky, baekhyun can’t get enough of your wild and demanding side. “don’t you dare move your hands!” — he’s already hooked.

yep, he’s part of the feral squad. and louder than the bass in jopping for that matter

small as hell face but the jaw is sharp, you can literally feel it, he fits between your legs so well

endless breath. put your pussy all over that nose, grind on it, cum all over him. society will thank you for suffocating a millionaire

like seriously the breath play is off the charts. if he’s into asphyxiation you’d not be surprised

meanwile baek’s naughty hips keep on bucking, like hello there, giving you a cheeky 69 invitation

such a cocky little shit, whiny byun all the way from those ruined orgasms he’ll be getting cuz you might just touch him with two fingers at best, you know how to keep him on his toes

swallows everything he’s like whatever, almost chokes because he’s so messy and greedy to taste you. damn baekhyun

does a “mmhhhnnn...!” sound all the time, this guy has pussy all over his face and is still more vocal than you no matter what you do

eats ass, all day if he can, knows the most shocking techniques, wants to get crushed by booty he’ll end up admitting it. no matter how big or small yours is. because remember, that face is small, everything is big to him

the type to cum on his stomach way before you do. groans a lot, then goes on even more intensely, how the hell did he just leak out five ounces of semen and still manage a whole tongue workout

slobbery and all over the place, those are tongue movements you can’t even think of in your wildest dreams

baekhyun is never content just making you cum once or just really lowkey, much less hearing you being silent. he’s a moodmaker, he naturally wants to hear you, and see you twitch like the world ends for goodness sake

brattiest tongue ever, always pulls out the taunting puppy licks, tries to grope you all the time, he’ll get a rough spanking later believe me

also gets his payback from you being crazy wet, as beautiful and cute his face might be it’s gonna end up damn ruined

not gonna lie his voice acrobatics will turn you into a waterfall that’s coming down on him

you can punish him for teasing by going raw with your hips, mochi is in wonderland, seeing stars. put his wrists in a spreader bar and go off is what i’m saying, YOLO

since baekhyun annoys the members by being so hyper in the evening, they appreciate you knocking him out for sleep. and indeed baekhyun dozes like a baby, probably using your ass as a pillow or something

you’ve drained the shit out of him and um watered the flower that is his face, so

another cupcake down, mission success, baekhyun certainly had his fill not to mention lucky you having to deal with his wildly talented mouth ahem, moral of the story annihilate him with your ass

⌜ 💋 lee taemin ⌟

▸ strength: steaminess

you will come (heh) to discover that none of his lyrics were a lie

yeah he’s busy hot boy shit for his gal

taemin has an all-soft and plush tongue that’s super pinkish. it literally feels so good, how to ever get enough of it holy shit

it also happens to be very long so buckle up, he wants to be deep inside of you, serve and please you

probably the most slow and agile movement in the group, tantalizing is the right word for sure

prefers kissing and sucking over just licking because he’s sappy, good on him and good on you those lips are heaven and need to be used by all means

once you go on the pill, taemin will eat his own creampies straight out of you, maybe even two at once, it’s taemin c’mon he’s above-average horny lord knows how much sperm he’s hoarding

loves drowning it seems

raunchy stuff aside, he always dresses up nicely or wears the fluffy sweaters you like the most on him. what an exclusive ride, the scent of the clothing turns you on even more he’s pulling all the registers taemin is so docile and giggly

most sensual style in the group, will edge and give you goosebumps first before the main course even remotely goes down, taemin thinks in several stages hot damn he calculated this

his face heats up so much it’s crazy, then again kkoongie capitalizes on all the warmth from the radiator so you might as well be taemin’s personal heating alright. it’s fun seeing him sweat like mad, see his neck veins bulge... ugh

is gonna be a provocateur and try to nibble on your folds, man he just wants to get slapped around you can see right through this brat’s rowdy plan

might even want his ass played with while you ride his face so prepare for some intense contortions, fingering, butt plugs, prostate massage, the whole array, gladly taemin is flexible

always pulls it off hands-free because he’s a pro and well yeah he’s always tied up how um totally surprising

and any challenge he will meet that i guarantee you

he has immediately apparent shinee concert stamina, longevity like his career, taemin can lend his face to your purposes for the whole night he doesn’t care if he needs to chuck it in the freezer afterwards

bonus: if taemin doesn’t at some point wear one of his glittery masks for sexy time, somebody is probably impersonating him and it’s not the real lee taemin i’m afraid

so many orgasms you’ll stop counting, one blends into the other, even if you’re not moving much, how does he do it

that being said gee can we just appreciate how beautiful his face is, everything about him, it’s gonna be so sexy and soft to kiss him to sleep oh my god

⌜ 💋 kim jongin ⌟

▸ strength: escalating

just how industrious is he? dammit kai is the rent due or something, this shit is not a comeback stage cool down

jongin is needy as fuck, he’s desperate to taste you especially in the morning when his lips are all plump

since then he’s skipped his skin care routine you do the bulk of the moisturizing you see

jokes aside get ready for whimpery kai thrusting his face right into you because he can, should you need something to hold onto, his thighs are literally right there

constant high-pitched moans, some during quick pauses, others stifled, kai are you okay he’s really going all out

so thirsty

if you don’t put a harness on him for this you’re missing out, also you need something to hold this wild slutty motherfucker in place

rock-hard throughout, harder than a goddamn superm choreography

also: sturdy chin that can take a lot, it’s made to be sat on

does a lot of the work, very active, main dancer vibes you know, you can be lazy and just enjoy

most continuous style in the group, gradually getting more and more passionate and nervous — the second you thought it gets boring he goes off, have fun losing your mind and seeing him basically K.O. himself

if he wants to make you cum, rapid tongue jabs deep into your clit, and his hard breath against it, no fair play in here

absolutely has a thing for your shaking thighs, like what the hell he’s blowing a huge load the more you tremble, and he’s goddamn crying from pleasure every time woah

those big ole lips are an absolute treat, yeah i’ll say it again his face is meant for this

wants to be called all kinds of names wow jongin, it just spurs him more

kai. is. so. good.

you can most definitely film your own POV cam, jongin can put on one hell of a show. just this time it’s not his eyes flirting with the camera, it’s his tongue getting a nice rough treatment oh yum

don’t get me wrong he can deliver a romantic version of this, but kai just likes you being tough on his face he can’t deny it

uses his hands so you can ride him even harder, all his teddy bears will be falling off the bed like dominoes

might one day ascend to heaven while giving head, wouldn’t regret it

can do it until complete exhaustion you guys just pass out

being such an oral workaholic do i sense a masochist streak in him there?

fucking typical capricorn

⌜ 💋 wong yukhei ⌟

▸ strength: appetite

first off yukhei is hilarious

it’s called eating out and that’s exactly what he does duh, he’s not nicknamed foodcas for no reason — the restaurant is open my dear, and he just served himself five courses (you)

gets super sweaty, forehead and down the neck, a 6′0 glazed bun can you imagine

giggles a lot, makes the atmosphere relaxed, loves banter before and after, an allround sweet experience

though beware, this guy is hungry. most prone to open his mouth super wide he wants to eat all of you at once

don’t tell kun how nasty he is, much less leader baekhyun, promise me that

and especially nosy kai should not hear about what sexy shit yukhei is doing in his freetime unless you want to trigger a war

that being said the wayv dorm is still the safest place to sit on his face, so. it’s a lawless land there, nobody gives a fuck anymore at this point. yangyang would not even blink if ten murdered someone in cold blood on the balcony, that’s how the atmosphere there can be best described

lucas being a far more harmless himbo still ironically fits into the environment being so sexually insatiable, just how often are you going to fuck? it’s only natural to lose the overview

he loudly pouts and complains when it ends, wants to go on and on, you need a lotta stamina to get with this guy this is not a warning it’s a fact — yukhei really wants to tire himself out and give everything

if you lower your thighs just a little you can feel his dangly earrings. kinda sexy but also a safety concern i know i know, he’s not gonna wear them next time

noisy as heck, wants to do well, always goes the extra mile to be sure you are all happy and satisfied with today’s dining

his tongue is... big...

we’re not gonna talk about that giant bulge either, such a huge tent in those pants it’s a whole camping ground. anyway

what we’ll talk about. his super soft blonde hair, we’re talking salon quality soft, that’s amazing to feel against your legs, it’s great to pull as well, or to twirl really playfully

though there’s not much playful going down when the initial inhibition drops

he’s not made of glass you can really get those hips going

sliding down his nose when you’re all wet... damn good stuff.

lucas is the kinda guy that has you grunting and gritting he loves your reactions, and how aggressive you can get. usually he’s the reaction king but like this? he can get used to it.

totally into having that kinda frog perspective it’s a whole new thing, he’s such a giant now he’s below you, the sight is just superb to him

less likely to have toys involved, but rather a bunch of rope for his chest, his arms, his long ass legs. yukhei is a bondage insider tip y’all

stable as a block of metal. if you go a little too wild on baekhyun he’s probably gonna break his mochi neck but lucas is a different calibre, this mf is made of giant muscles galore, i can only say one thing: finish him

⌜ 💋 mark lee ⌟

▸ strength: speed

talks a lot, even occasionally curses — instantly apologizing, but you curse right back, so this becomes the cussing olympics at some point, taeyong would bury his face in the ground all his parenting efforts have gone to waste

mark basically chokes himself

he can’t control his spit by all means jesus... in his own words: must be the drip then

next to taemin and baekhyun here we have the third drowning victim, mark is in serious need of multiple tissues or towels afterwards but that’s exactly what he likes

mark’s slutty side is not to be underestimated i’m warning you

that’s a healthy young man right here

loves to do quickies to get you off during daytime, if you’re horny just tell him and he’ll find a quiet spot, might do it on his knees rather than you riding him sometimes for practical reasons

all options open, mark is flexible af. if someone can promote with nct dream and superm at the same time that’s the result

so yeah you’ll experiment with positions and even outfits, what’s the most comfortable to wear?

few people even remotely think about this. mark himself stays in his signature sweater but the glasses come off, you know very well he’s a nerd without them he has nothing to prove lmao!

the clothes will be cozy but don’t let that fool you yet alright

this guy has watched too much porn to just keep it light and cute

don’t get me wrong you can baby him ad nauseam for the more gentle femdom moods

but at the end of the day mark loves some intense shit, he likes feisty girls who aren’t coy and subby, the more perverted you are the better, in fact he enjoys being shocked with brazen attitude and getting orders on what to do.

loves it when you to take it all out on him, rough is good. mark lee’s face is the rodeo range of super m alright, just don’t break his glorious jaw or anything, he still needs it okay

but yeah mark’s face is tempting to ride hard not gonna lie

his tongue can go so fast it’s at the speed of sound, no, the speed of fucking light. mark goes crazy on your clit, wait a few seconds, boom five orgasms rain down on you.

it’s like an anime swordsman just lifting the sword hilt, walking off calmly, and one minute later things are in shambles like how? mark’s sword tech is just epic like that

he’s a leo what did we expect, show-off

in the meantime, RIP to mark lee’s pants. they’ll be soaked with cum, gonna be a bitch to hide your clothes from taeyong who’s always eager to wash everything by himself

that aside, mark really enjoys the position, he doesn’t need much else to be honest, he goes “oh my god oh shit” enough for you to know

thank god he’s a rapper, otherwise his dang technique would be dangerous, he doesn’t breathe for half a minute or so

enjoys you really doing shallow thrusts, super fast and sloppy, loves how much you enjoy it

needless to say: breaks a guinness world record for most licks per second, it’s that mark lee flow

long story short his face is your favorite spot he can prepare for a daily session

all that practice on water melons paid off good job markly

⌜ 💋 ten lee ⌟

▸ strength: allround skill

you know a pro by how he’s offering you a tall glass of water beforehand

and by the way he’s chugging one himself

champion, a keeper

you’re guaranteed to love it, ten is amazing

takes his time, gets to know your every inch, figures out your soft spots in a matter of minutes to seconds

everything for his sexy mama, service sub right here

take him on a leash, grind on his lips, make him kiss your clit, he’ll respond by circling his tongue around obediently

chittaphon might be a little fidgety at the beginning, but the atmosphere is not as tense anymore after doing it two or three times.

ten is actually quite good cracking lighthearted jokes and showing his more extroverted side, he always gets like that with a partner.

you have an easy time with build-up conversations and communicating in general, same with aftercare pillow talk

that being said the degree of professionalism this guy is heading for needs a lot of talk in the first place.

ten likes doing advanced things that aren’t just intuitively understood, you need to exchange yourself a lot

through trial and error you figure out how to incorporate sex toys into the little routine you have going on

the pleasure will be so intense you’ll never want anything else fuck

ten is also down for a lot of moving around, some athletic shit

you’ll go from bouncing on his dick to smothering his face back and forth pretty much, let’s see how fast you’re gonna bust a huge nut like that my bet is five minutes

those like “oh... ah—” moans are just angelic

since he focuses so much on your erogenous zones and always keeps his hands involved, ten is always guaranteed to have you breaking a major sweat

ten does not like to eat any fruits, they say. well that’s true, because he’s too busy eating you that is. boy can basically retire from citizenhood, he’s that busy between your legs.

enough fruit juice for an entire week impending, don’t worry about his nutrients, this is also a form of diet.

uses his chin, his cheeks, the nose especially, the damn nose it’s perfectly shaped

wants you to really ride him hard, and fast, no holds barred at all, going so feral he’ll be squeezing his eyes shut

sometimes his hair gets in the way, it’s just so damn long. the result: hair ties for face-sitting, always on his wrist

among all members, buries his face the deepest, turns him on so much

always makes sure you’re both washed up, no impromptu sessions. ten is a hygiene priest and he’s right

the mattress is kinda bouncy and he always uses his favorite soft pillow under his head so you can definitely take mister ten lee to pound town like work your hips give it to him

in case he survives i send my congrats, you got yourself the right guy, terrific choice queen

⌜ 💋 lee taeyong ⌟

▸ strength: ideas

how much more religiously can he eat you out, he treats this like the best reward he can get

as you can probably tell by now, all the lee surname members are definitely a certain brand and clan of highly distinguished pussy eaters like, these guys are a fucking gang like... well taeyong is no different

reckless abandon oral, eats you like it’s the last day, even death fears lee taeyong when he’s in giving head mode

you might be showering together beforehand and be all shy and kissy like it’s puppy love. but that is all for naught when the tongue of god is unleashed and taeyong gets himself as messed up as he can

yeah i like the thought of god being incarnated as kinky taeyong begging to have his mouth spit and cummed in it just makes sense

very deep mumbles, very hard breathing, those veiny hands on your waist, he wants to make you feel good so bad, fuck he’s so sexy

intense facial expressions, need i say more

also um... he likes to be... threatened. he’s the student you’re the teacher, strict as hell surveying his every move, the more you yell at him the harder he gets, jesus christ he has a thing for you acting mad and shit

taeyong doesn’t even need you to pull off your underwear, he’s gone get through any type of fabric with that leaking mouth

let’s just say he likes to experiment with innovative techniques... anyway, taeyong is a nasty fucking freak, he’s a grade A hoe, you never know what to expect

one time he just licks like a shy doe, the next second slurping explosion 5000

imagine whipping his thighs with a riding crop while sitting right on that ultra gorgeous elven prince face like

taeyong is almost always getting super emotional. he sheds even more tears than kai, like at some point you’ll develop a crying kink because of him SOS

nervous as hell, shaky hands. that can easily be fixed sir let’s tie em up

has you moaning nonstop, he’s so engaged and so dead-on with his movements. don’t be surprised if this damned man has your eyes almost falling out

beware, this guy is into full-on sensual deprivation as well. blindfolds are only the start.

you might end up with a whole lotta black latex involved, who knows, a whole gimp on him he’s down for that, he learned from ten what it is blame chittaphon’s vast kinky knowledge

even better: while you’re grinding on him, taeyong likes you pumping his cock with a fleshlight with zero mercy until he yelps in tiny oops

hell he might ask you to roughly fuck his face with a strap and then ride it, the mister likes double treats huh

then again: wants it to be degrading and dirty and intense on some days, and really wholesome and romantic on others

especially aftercare will be sweet and dulcet, you take care of him, pepper him with kisses for being such a dutiful boy.

looks pretty no matter what. maybe he’s born with it maybe it’s tyongbelline. yeah just how handsome is that face and hair like... t’yongreal paris in full splendor

long story short he’s an oral deity. i rest my case howdy and goodbye see you next time aye

superm masterlist

775 notes · View notes