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chososrightnipple · 9 months ago

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❝𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.❞

: ̗̀➛ overview: telling various anime characters you want a baby.

: ̗̀➛ tw; afab!reader w/no gendered language. mentions of pregnancy and getting pregnant, first scenario is nsfw (w/ lowk breeding kink) but the rest are sfw. intentional lowercase!

── დ ──

he pauses, glancing over to you. there's a certain change in his expression that you can't decipher. something in the way his feet shuffle and his shoulders tense, in the way his eyes just barely squint and his tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

"you want a.. baby?" he repeats. the last word comes out strained, as if he was choking on the idea. the idea of you staring down at a positive pregnancy test, the idea of you waddling around the house, the idea of you carrying his child.

you nod, eyeing his form in the kitchen. when your eyes meet his, he looks away and back down to the dishes in front of him. "i want your baby," you correct, almost shyly.

he audibly gulps, setting down the dish he was washing with a dull thump of glass against sink. his hands grip at the granite counter and he tilts his head backward. a long exhale escapes him. there's a pause in the air, only for a few seconds. you, sat on the couch, face flushed and wondering if your confession was a mistake, and him standing silent in the kitchen.

"my baby." he repeats. tasting the way the words sit on his tongue. toying with the implications, the ideas floating around in his head. for a brief moment, a vision of you fucked out and actually dripping with his cum flashes before his eyes.

the man shudders visibly and forces himself to take a deep breath. in, then out, and in again.

he turns around and leans against the granite counter, crossing his tense arms over his chest. this time, when you go to meet his eyes, you find his gaze is already boring into yours. there's an air of certainty around him, something that leaves you feeling strangely breathless. hooded eyes never leaving yours, jaw ticking and lips turning upwards, almost smugly.

he brings a shaky hand up to run through his hair. pushing back stray strands and ruffling. you can't tell if the action is out of nerves or if he's just struggling that hard with holding himself back.

"hm. guess i'll have to make you one then."

↳ (jjk) toji fushiguro, geto suguru, gojo satoru, (mha) keigo takami, dabi, aizawa shouta, shigaraki tomura, (kny) sanemi shinazugawa, tengen uzui

── დ ──

you can feel his entire body tense behind you after you blurt the words out. the arms around your waist tightening their hold, the legs entangled with yours going rigid. even the small breaths that fan your neck momentarily pause, and you suddenly feel cold.

"sweetheart?" you whisper out, wondering if you had made some kind of mistake admitting your desire for a baby. that maybe you guys aren't ready for that conversation, yet.

from behind you, he exhales sharply, a small noise escaping his throat. then, the hands on your waist are suddenly gripping into your skin, and he's haphazardly maneuvering you until your face to face with him. no longer spooning, but rather brushing noses and sharing breaths.

"what did you just say?" the words are muttered, whispered like a secret only you two share.

he's staring at you with such a look that every nerve under your skin begins to burn. it's more than affection, more than desire, more than love. like he never wants to look away, like he can stand witness to the expansion of the universe just from looking into your eyes.

you swallow harshly, a hand coming up to play with the back of his hair. something to ground you back to reality. he preens at the touch, and you can feel a shiver rack through him.

"i said i want to have a baby." you hum, soft and sweet.

his eyes fall shut and he leans his forehead against yours. the grip he has on your waist tightens, his other hand beginning to run up and down your back. as if he's struggling to keep his head out of the clouds just as much as you are.

"really? you wanna start a family with me?" he chokes the words out, as if the utter idea of it seems impossible. as if you'd never want him, want the life he's also been daydreaming about.

you cusp at his cheek, thumbing at the soft skin. something warm fills you, every inch of your body, tingling at your fingertips. you think about it all over again- him, a father, running around a fenced in yard, chasing a giggling toddler, the smell of lunch cooking in the background. and you, watching it all from a swing on the porch. how could you not want that?

you smile, "honey, i want to start a life with you."

↳ (jjk) yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro, nanami kento, choso kamo, (mha) natsuo todoroki, toshinori yagi, (kny) obanai iguro, tomioka giyuu, rengoku kyujuro

── დ ──

the car tires squeal as he briefly loses control of the wheel, jerking it to the left and just barely missing the concrete lane divider. your grip onto your seatbelt, and the only reason you don't go flying forward is the arm of your lover jutting out in front of you. with a small curse, he straightens out the car and hits the brakes.

the car behind you beeps angrily, though he only waves them off through the window before focusing back on the road. it's silent for a few seconds, the two of you catching you breaths and trying to quiet the loud heartbeat of adrenaline. you begin to think that blurting out your want for a baby while on the road wasn't the brightest idea.

the man sitting beside you finally speaks up a few moments later. his words come out breathless and high pitched. "a baby?! like... a real one?"

you snap your head towards him and, in irritation, begin to slap at his shoulder and arm. "are you kidding!? you almost kill us and that's the first thing you say to me?! i'm being serious! i want a baby!"

he whines, weakly fending off your attacks with his other hand. "oka- okay! stop hitting me, jesus!" he groans, attention diverted between the green light in front of him and your pouting face.

you finally relent after one final slap and huff in annoyance. crossing you arms and slouching against the passenger seat like a toddler who hasn't been given their way.

he eyes you from the drivers seat with a wobbly lip. trying desperately to hold back the laugh brewing inside of him, knowing it'll only serve to annoy you further. he seems to have a special talent at that.

"stop pouting, c'mon now. look at me, love." he coos, taking one of his hands off the wheel and instead using it to caress your cheek. tapping at your nose, twirling at your hair, then gripping your chin and tilting it toward him.

he spares a brief glance toward you, not wanting to take his eyes off of the road for too long. "you really want a baby? i'll give you one, yeah? i'll trash the condoms myself as soon as we get home. how's that sound?"

you roll your eyes, but he can see the amusement cracking through your expression bit by bit. then, finally, you smile. small at first, before it splits wide across your lips. he awes audibly, pinching at your cheeks before you slap his hand away.

yeah, he doesn't think he'd mind a baby with you. not if they got your pretty little smile (and, hopefully, something of his, too).

↳ (jjk) yuji itadori, gojo satoru, ino takuma, (mha) keigo takami, hizashi yamada, mirio togata, (kny) tengen uzui

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theneighborhoodsave · 1 year ago

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V1: Willow Creek + Magnolia Promenade 🏠

The Neighborhood is a CC-free save file that explores the concept of home. V1 celebrates the vibrant communities of the U.S. Gulf Coast. ❤️

This is what comes in V1:

13 community lots

22 total residences (includes 3 multi-family rental lots, 9 single family homes)

New High School & Auditorium in Copperdale (+8 school staff townies)

Secret lot (Sylvan Glade) reimagined

17 unique households with skills, jobs, relationships, and stories that tie into the town

New clubs and holidays

Download, screenshots & more info below ↪

The wonderful Ly family in Willow Creek was lovingly created for the save by @cowplant-snacks. All other neighbors were made by me, you can meet all of them here! Pets are from Pugowned, misc. townies from @cowplant-snacks and @simsontherope on the gallery.

There's lots of little details and things to explore, both around the world and relationship wise, so I'm excited to see what y'all uncover. Please feel free to @theneighborhoodsave in your posts or tag #theneighborhoodsave. I'd love to see what your sims are up to!

I also want to say thank you to anyone who's appreciated this creative journey with me. This save feels like home to me and y'all have supported me every step of the way!

Download the The Neighborhood save on SFS

Alt: Google Drive

The save is 100% CC free! Please note that I do have all expansions, packs, and kits (except for Castle Estate, Goth Galore + Crystal Creations.) For any items you don't own the game will try to auto find replacements for those items. The file is mostly blank this time around but does include the original EA builds in university and vacation type worlds (sans Granite Falls.)

Included is a folder of completely optional skin details/eyelashes for the neighbor sims. Thank you to @faaeish, @pyxiidis, @tamo-sim, and @landgraabbed! There are 4 pieces of CC I cannot include in the folder due to creator TOU. Please check the included "Read Me" file for more information.

All builds and families are up on the gallery (@sweetbeagaming) + tray files have been shared here.

If you've never used a save file and need help installing it, I highly recommend this tutorial by @leeleebsimming.

⚠️ A couple of disclaimers here due to some existing EA bugs. EDIT 4/25: Included in that link are directions on how to avoid TOOL'd items from disappearing. If you want to keep powerlines and such please check this out! ⚠️

Everything was tested to work around these, but I wanted to put them out there as an FYI.

TOU: Please don't reupload my save/builds/sims, claim as your own, and absolutely do not paywall them. Other than that feel free to build your own Neighborhood stories however you'd like!

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ariestrxsh · 7 months ago

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sub!virgin!matt x neighbor!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, suggestive, innocence corruption, purity kink, sexualization of religious imagery, teasing, masturbation, voyeurism, mentions of sex toys

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: a good little christian boy named matt moves in next door, and once you find out he's a virgin, you test his morals, determined to tease him until he caves

don't read if you're religious. it's going to offend you a lot if you do, and i really don't want to offend anyone.

this fic is a bit of a slow burn with a lot of lead up and sexual tension before they actually do anything. :) i anticipate this storyline to have several parts.

dividers by @/anitalenia

Me & U

chapters: | 1 |

It was a Saturday afternoon in your suburban neighborhood, the summer sun beating down on your face directly overhead. You stood in your front yard in a solid white t-shirt and jean shorts with a hand to your forehead, shading your eyes from the brightness, and your other hand on your hip as you watched a giant uhaul pull into the house next door that had been up for sale for as long as you'd lived there. An old, orange truck followed right behind it.

Were you finally getting new neighbors?

You watched as a handsome brunette with tattoos who looked to be about your age got out of the rust-colored vehicle. He was in a white tank top and faded blue jeans, and he was really cute. An older man, who you presumed was probably his dad, emerged from the driver's side of the uhaul.

The younger boy's blue eyes caught yours as he opened up the back of the truck to get out some boxes, and he shot you a shy smile and a small wave. You had to have him.

Several hours later, as the late afternoon sun was beginning to set in the sky, and after the boy and his father had a chance to unpack some of their belongings, you headed to your kitchen to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies, so you'd have a reason to go over and talk to him. Maybe find out his name, maybe find out if he was single or not.

You got out milk, eggs, flour, and chocolate chips, and after mixing them all together, you portioned out perfect little dough blobs and stuck the pan into your oven, nearly burning yourself, and set a timer.

Once they were done baking, you beelined it for your new neighbor's house with a plate of fresh, homemade chocolate chips cookies and a glass of milk.

When you stepped onto the lawn, the blue-eyed boy was walking down the steps of his new porch, and he glanced up at you. "Hey. I'm your new neighbor. I saw you guys unpacking your stuff. I figured you could stand to take a break from unloading boxes and have some cookies," you said, offering him the plate.

"Hey, thanks," he said smiling, accepting the plate and the glass from you. He thought you were really pretty, and talking to you really brought out his shy side.

"What's your name?" You asked, studying all his attractive features up close in the golden hour lighting, his perfectly-shaped nose, his pretty teeth, and his luscious, pink lips. You loved the way the sun was hitting his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Matt," he responded timidly. You introduced yourself to himself as well. "You gonna invite me in?" You peeked over his shoulder and in through his doorway, walking past him and letting yourself in. "Uh, sure. There's not much in there yet," Matt replied, following you into his brand new house.

"Uh, sorry about the mess," Matt nervously apologized, gesturing towards the general disarray. "I get it. I've moved before," you responded understandingly. The walls were empty, and so was the rest of the room besides a kitchen table, some kitchen chairs, and several half-unpacked boxes, overflowing with dishes and kitchen appliances.

You admired the dark brown, hardwood flooring, the matching cabinets, and the gorgeous granite countertops. He placed the plate of cookies on the island in the center of the room and took a bite out of one. "Mmm. Still warm," he grinned at you, washing the sugary treat down with the milk you gave him.

"How old are you?" You asked him, your eyes drawn to his strong, veiny hands and his rings on his long, slender fingers. "Twenty-one," he told you. "Same," you responded while you watched him devour another one of your cookies. "These are really good," he complimented your baking, blushing and wiping a few crumbs from his mouth.

"Was that guy who was unloading stuff with you, your dad?" You asked him, and he nodded. "Yeah, he left to go get us some food for tonight," he mumbled in between bites.

"Naughty boy. Spoiling your dinner," you lowered your voice and smirked at him. You noticed his eyes subtly widen, and he stopped chewing for a second.

"You should show me your room," you seductively said, biting your lip. "Uh, sure. Again, there's not much in it," Matt shrugged, completely oblivious to your overt flirting.

You started up his stairs, admiring the sturdy banister, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you over it, and once you got to the top of the stairs, you turned around, noticing Matt behind you, his eyes glued to your ass.

You gave him a look that silently asked, like what you see? He pulled his gaze from your bottom to your eyes with a guilty look on his face like a puppy dog that had gone to the bathroom somewhere he shouldn't have.

"Which one's your room?" You asked him. "Third door on the left," he said, clearing his throat and trying to pretend he wasn't just checking you out. You led the way, even though you knew the layout even less than he did.

You turned the knob and pushed open his door. His bed was already set up with flannel sheets and throw pillows, and on the opposite wall, a desk with a laptop and a few books on it. As you peered out the window, you realized you had a direct view of his room from your room.

He had a connected bathroom, and as you wandered into there, you admired the sage green back splash of the shower through the transparent shower door. You imagined how steamy the two of you could make the glass.

Other than that, more scattered boxes decorated the area, some opened, some not.

"What are you gonna do with the place?" You wondered, pacing around his room. "I want to paint it," he said, scanning the room with his eyes. "What color?" You inquired, wandering back over towards the entrance to his room and subtly shutting and locking his door while he was distracted by deliberating your question.

"Still not sure. Wanted to go for something cooler, darker. Maybe a forest green or a stone blue. Something earthy," he mumbled, wondering if he had taken too long to answer your question. You could tell he was nervous and shy, and you found it extremely endearing.

"That sounds awesome. I'm gonna help you paint it," you stated, taking a step closer to him. "Sure, that'd be nice of you," he said agreeably. "What are you doing tomorrow? You should come see the badass treehouse I have in my backyard. It's really private up there. We can do anything you want," you chewed on your lip, looking him up and down.

"We can smoke some weed and just talk. Or smoke some weed and not talk," you said, standing on your tippy toes and whispering into his ear while you took your pointer finger and seductively caressed his chest. You noticed a small tent forming in his pants.

He liked how dominant and direct your demeanor was, but he was worried you may have misread his character. He had never smoked weed and had never had sex. Still, the way you spoke to him and touched him turned him on.

He grabbed a pillow off his bed and held it in front of his erection as if it were less obvious. "You'd better take care of that," you teased him, glancing down at his bulge. "Uh, I don't do that. My dad and I are going to church tomorrow morning," he swallowed anxiously, blushing at your observation.

"You don't what? You don't smoke, or you don't jerk off?" You asked, smirking at him. "Uh, I don't smoke," he nervously smiled. "Isn't it a sin to jerk off? You really are a naughty boy, aren't you?" You maliciously grinned at him. His breath caught in his throat, and he started to look at you in desperation, but he caught himself, immediately shifting his gaze around uncomfortably.

"You could come if you want," he offered, his eyes still darting around the room as if he were afraid to look at you. "I can cum if I want?" You teased him. "To church. You could come with us to church," he clarified, looking down and reaching behind his head with his tattooed arm to nervously rub the back of his neck. You loved making him nervous.

"Why? So you can watch me burst into flames?" You jumped at him, putting your fingers up behind your head, making devil horns while you playfully smiled at him, but he still jumped back, startled by your joke, and he nervously giggled at it once he realized you were probably kidding. A good little Christian boy.

"You know, you're cute enough that I'd consider going to church with you. But it's really hard to beat getting high in my treehouse and touching myself, so I think I'm gonna pass," you told him.

His jaw dropped and a needy expression overcame his face while he imagined you sitting on the floor of a treehouse, one hand holding a joint between your lips, and the other down the front of your unbuttoned denim shorts.

"Maybe I'll still be up there when church lets out," you tempted him. He couldn't believe how comfortable you were saying all that out loud. "You think I'm cute?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, still processing everything you'd just casually admitted in the last few seconds.

"Yeah, and you think I'm cute," you confidently stated, staring at the throw pillow in front of his pants. His cheeks turned a deep shape of red, and he wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Suddenly, you heard the low rumbling of an old truck and a car door shut. "Uh, I think my dad's home. I don't think we should be up here alone with my door shut and locked when he walks in," Matt said, wide-eyed.

He reached into his jeans to tuck his erection into his waistband. You watched in awe, hoping to get a peak, but he was too quick about it. He headed out of his room, and you trailed behind.

When his dad materialized through the front door, you and Matt were descending the stairs into the kitchen again. "Oh. Hi. You already made a friend, Matt?" His dad smiled at you, put the Cane's bag on the counter, and stuck out his hand for you to shake. His hands were rough and calloused. You daintily shook his hand, shot him an innocent smile, and introduced yourself.

"Yeah, she's our neighbor. She brought us over some cookies," Matt motioned towards the nearly empty plate. "I kinda ate most of them," he giggled. "How kind of you," the older man commented. "I'd offer you some food, but I only planned on feeding the two of us," he motioned towards his son.

"Oh, please. Don't worry. You guys moved in like six hours ago. I don't expect you to feed me," you responded. "I just wanted to pop in and introduce myself. Bring you something sweet," you innocently tilted your head at Matt's father.

"I'll give Matt my number in case you guys need any help unpacking or painting or anything," you grinned over at Matt. "Y-Yeah, sure," Matt stumbled over his words, fidgeting with his phone in his pocket, and handing it to you nervously.

You saved your contact in his phone with a peach emoji, a wet water emoji, and a heart beside your name, and when you handed it back to him, his eyes subtly widened, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks," he muttered. "I'll catch you around," you smiled and subtly winked at Matt, and then you saw yourself out to let the men enjoy their food and get a good night's rest after a long day of heavy lifting.

When you stepped out into the night, you got a closer look at their truck. It was a rust-colored Dodge Dakota from the 70's with a cross hanging in the rearview mirror, and there was a bible on the dashboard. You wondered just how strong Matt's morals were, and what you'd have to do to get them to bend - or even break - for you.

After Matt and his dad sat down at their table and ate together, Matt excused himself to go take a shower. It was the first time he'd had a bathroom connected to his room, and he appreciated the convenience. It took him a few minutes to figure out how the temperature and pressure dials worked, and once he did, he stood underneath the hot water, letting it hit his sore back and soothe the aching muscles in his neck.

He washed his hair, and ran his soapy hands all over the rest of his body. He tried to focus on cleaning himself, but he couldn't help that he was having dirty thoughts. He tried to push his impure fantasies about you to the back of his mind, but the more he tried to run away from them, the more they persisted.

He was pretty sure by now that you were flirting with him. He'd felt the sexual tension between the two of you while you guys stood in his locked bedroom together. He wished his dad hadn't come home when he did, because he wanted to know just how bold you were and how far you would have taken it.

He started getting hard again, and no matter how hard he fought the urge, his hand had a mind of its own. It was the one sin Matt was weakest to - lust. His fingers slithered down below his waist, and he started massaging his cock while his mind was flooded with you.

He imagined what it would have been like to see under your clothes, how your lips would have felt against his neck, and how your fingers would have felt wrapped around his dick like he had his now.

He pumped his hand back and forth over his length, caressing every vein and coaxing a few whimpers from his pretty mouth. Matt was saving himself for marriage, but he could still fantasize about you, right?

He pictured you on top of him with your breasts bouncing in his face. He imagined you straddling him, how wet and tight you'd feel enveloping his rod, and how pornographic your moans would sound. He fisted his cock urgently, his eyes rolling back and his jaw hanging open. The neediest sounds poured from Matt's lips as he replayed the way you sounded when you called him a naughty boy.

It didn't take much before ropes of cum were painting the shower floor, and Matt watched breathlessly as his hot, thick fluid mixed with the water and circled the drain. He immediately felt ashamed after, knowing God didn't make your body as beautiful as it was for Matt to fulfill his carnal desires with.

He figured you'd be disgusted with him if you ever knew. Little did he know, if you had any idea what he was doing behind his steamy shower door, you would have found it flattering.

He finished rinsing himself of his sin, and he grabbed a towel, one of the few things he had unpacked in his bathroom, wrapping it around his waist and stepping out of the shower.

It was right at this time that you were laying in your bed in the dark, trying to fall asleep when you rolled over and noticed Matt's bedroom light come on across the way. You caught a glimpse of Matt through your window in his room in just a towel, having just finished up in the shower.

You couldn't pull your eyes away from him. He looked so good with his hair all wet, and you admired his shirtless figure and the 'v' shaped lines that pointed down to his cock that you were dying to see.

You held your breath as he turned and dropped his towel. You couldn't see much, but you caught a glimpse of his bare ass for a few seconds before he slipped his pajama pants on, and you couldn't deny how cute it was.

Blissfully unaware that you could see him, he knelt down at his bedside and started to pray. You wondered if this was an every night occurrence, and for the most part it was, but Matt would spend an extra long time praying whenever he'd committed a lustful sin, which was more often than not. You peered at him from the comfort of your bedroom, wondering how good he'd look on his knees for you.

After about ten minutes of praying, Matt climbed to his feet, shut off his bedroom light, and crawled between his sheets to drift off to dreamland.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You were pulled from your deep sleep the next morning at about 8 a.m. by the sound of your phone vibrating next to you. At first, you ignored it, thinking you were getting a text, but when the buzzing against your night stand continued, you realized you had an incoming call.

You didn't recognize the number, but you still answered. "Hello?" You sleepily mumbled into the phone. "Uh, hi," you immediately recognized the shy voice that responded to you. "Last chance for you to come to church with me. I'm leaving in half an hour," Matt told you.

"You wake up at 8 a.m. every Sunday to go to church?" You asked in a groggy tone. "Actually, I've been up for about an hour," he told you. "Do you have any coffee at your place?" You asked him, rubbing your eyes. "I don't even have a coffee maker at my place," he laughed. "I mean, I do somewhere, but it's still packed up."

"I'll come with you to church if we can stop for coffee on the way," you smiled into the phone. "Uh, yeah. We can do that," Matt said, attempting to conceal his excitement about you agreeing to go to church with him.

"Do I have to wear a dress?" You wondered. "You don't have to, but I'd like to see you in one," Matt replied, biting his lip. "I'll be over in like fifteen minutes. In my sunday best," you answered before you hung up.

You put on an off-white, vintage smock dress that synched at your waist and had long, puffy sleeves. You brushed your teeth, combed through your hair, and ran downstairs.

You were greeted by a confused look from your mother. "Where are you going so early looking so nice?" She asked, peering up from the book she was reading. "To church," you casually said, resting your hand on the doorknob. "Church?" Your mom said confused. "Yeah, I made a new friend. I'll be home later!" You called out before shutting the door behind you.

You made your way over to the boy next door's house, and you knocked while you waited patiently on his porch. A few seconds later, Matt opened the door and his eyes danced across your outfit. "Wow," Matt whispered, taking in the sight of you in a dress. He thought you looked like a fairy.

You looked him up and down as well, admiring his black slacks and black button-down long sleeve. You admired his emerald green tie, wondering how it would feel to grab him by it.

He had a notebook in his hand, and you glanced at his long, slender fingers again that were wrapped around the cover of the book, dreaming about how they'd feel curled inside of you. "What's the notebook for?" You asked. "Oh, nothing. It's just my journal."

"Your diary?" You raised your eyebrows at him. "You write about me in it last night?" You bit your lip at him. "No," he looked away and blushed. "Well, what do I have to do to get you to write about me in there, hmm?" You cooed, reaching for Matt's tie and fiddling with it while you flirted with him.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked, ignoring your question and looking a bit annoyed at you. "Yeah, are we just waiting for your dad?" You asked, gaze still fixed on his black-painted nails, and your mind still fixed in the gutter.

"My dad's not feeling so good. I think the elevation change kind of got to him, so he's staying home today," Matt responded, nervous to be alone with you, but you stared at him hungrily. "Just me and you?" You lustfully asked. You couldn't wait to be alone with him. He sheepishly nodded. "Well, I'm ready if you're ready," you chewed on your lip.

The two of you left to get coffee. You got a frozen caramel coffee drink, and Matt just got a black coffee.

Since Matt was new to the area, he had you navigate the two of you to the first place of worship that came up when he searched for Christian churches, and the two of you showed up just in time for the 9 o'clock service to start.

Matt backed his truck in to a spot on the side of the building, and the two of you slipped into the church, relieved that no one greeted you or asked if it was your first time there. You guys wanted to avoid the spotlight and just take your seats somewhere near the back.

An energetic man walked out onto the stage and immediately drew in the attention of the crowd. It didn't take long before you realized it was one of those weird, eccentric churches where the pastor claimed to be not like the other pastors, but he really just seemed like he was trying to use God as a way to get into people's wallets.

The sermon given revolved around the first book of the Bible, the Garden of Eden, original sin, and the way Adam and Eve gave into temptation. The whole time, you just listened quietly, your eyes shifting back and forth between the man giving the sermon and Matt, who seemed to be in a trance.

The service lasted about an hour and a half, and after the closing prayer, you and Matt shuffled out of the church along with the rest of the crowd, and you made your way back to the truck. On the way back home, you sat next to Matt in the truck that he and his dad shared, facing the shy brunette boy while you mulled over the service given today.

"Do you think Adam and Eve fucked in the garden?" You asked him, breaking the silence and looking at him seductively. Matt pulled his eyes off the road and glanced over at you for a second. "What!?" He asked in an appalled voice.

"Like the apple and the snake. You think those are just code words for something else?" You wondered, chewing on your lip. "I don't think you should be talking about stories in the Bible like that," he widened his eyes at you as if you were about to be struck by lightning.

"I mean, that's what they're alluding to, though, right?" You suggested. "I-I don't know. I never thought that far into it," Matt responded, dumbfounded. "You think Adam and Eve liked getting punished by God?" You smirked at Matt.

His cheeks grew red, he swallowed hard, and he started wiping his sweaty palms off on his button-down. He looked so cute when he was all flustered. "You think Adam was a naughty boy and liked getting caught eating Eve's fruit?" You said, slowly parting your legs and flashing Matt a sneak peak of what was under the skirt of your dress.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the little damp spot on the front of your white panties. "You're all wet.." Matt whispered, wide-eyed, unable to pull his eyes from between your thighs. "I know. I can't help it when you're around," you muttered, parting your legs a little further and gently petting yourself over your underwear.

"Please don't make me sin," Matt peered up at you with his needy, blue eyes. "I can't make you do anything," you teased him, brushing your finger over the soaked spot on the cotton fabric. "If you sin, it's because you want to."

"You're making this so hard for me," he whined, his eyes dancing between the road and the juicy treasure between your thighs. "You're right, I'll stop. I don't want us to crash," you smirked at him, pulling your hand away from your special place and slamming your legs shut.

The desperation on his face turned to disappointment. He didn't want you to stop, but he was riddled with guilt and shame about the way he was thinking about you.

"Can we stop at a store on the way home? I need to pick something up," you asked him. "Sure. Just tell me where to go," Matt responded quietly, still trying to clean his mind of the image of you spreading open your legs and gently rubbing the wet spot on your panties.

You led Matt to a parking lot with a sex shop in the plaza, and it was then that he realized you were up to no good. "Why are we stopping here?" Matt inquired, his wide eyes shifting back and forth between you and the shop you told him to park in front of.

"Don't worry about it. I just need to go in for a minute. It won't take long," you said, unfastening your seatbelt. "Well, you shouldn't go in alone," Matt killed the engine and started eagerly unbuckling his seat belt as well. "Yeah? You gonna protect me from all the dildos?" You chuckled, knowing he couldn't protect you from anything if he tried.

Secretly, he just had never been inside an adult entertainment shop, and considering sex was almost all he thought about besides God, he was curious. But he'd never admit it out loud.

The two of you walked in through the front door, clearly both in church clothes, and the girl at the front counter greeted you by name. "Who's this handsome devil?" The cashier asked, motioning towards Matt, and he blushed.

"This is my new neighbor. His name is Matt. We just got back from church," you told her. "Hot. It's always the religious ones that are a little freaky," the girl said, eyeing Matt and biting her lip. "I-I'm not," Matt quickly said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, he's a virgin," you whispered loudly. "A-am not!" Matt defensively said, turning bright red. "We're not here for him. I was actually looking into getting a new vibrator. I like the ones I have already, but I just want something with a little extra kick, you know?" You told her.

"I have the perfect thing for you," she winked at you, and she started to lead you towards the back. As the three of you walked past the magazines and DVDs, Matt's eye caught the cover of a few, and he started growing hard in his black slacks. He prayed neither of you would notice, trying to adjust himself as subtly as possible.

"This is the womanizer. We just got a shipment of them in this morning," the woman held up a toy. "And this part right here uses airflow and pressure while it vibrates to simulate oral sex," she informed you, turning on the toy and holding it out for you to feel.

"Wow," you said, your eyes twinkling as you felt the sensation against the tip of you finger while you imagined how it would feel elsewhere. "You sold me. Which color should I get, Matt?" You asked, looking over at your cute neighbor who was still trying to fix the erection forming in his pants.

Your eyes flicked down at the way the fabric strained around it, you smiled, and then you looked back up at Matt's embarrassed expression. "Um. Pink, I guess," Matt quietly responded. "Yeah? Like the color of your lips?" You smirked at him, knowing your comment was going to fluster him.

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Whew. Is it kinda warm in here?" Matt asked, loosening his tie and turning an ever deeper shade of red. "I want a pink one," you said, turning back to the sex shop worker. She smirked at Matt and the tent growing in his pants before she wandered off to the back to go grab you a packaged one.

"You come here so often, they know you by name?" Matt quietly asked you. "What can I say? I like sex. Sex with myself, sex with another person, sex with more than one other person," you chuckled. "You've had sex? How many guys?" Matt asked, sounding a little jealous. "A lady doesn't fuck and tell," you whispered, winking at Matt before the woman reappeared with the vibrator you and Matt had just picked out.

"Are you sure you don't want a sex toy recommendation, pretty boy?" The cashier turned towards Matt. He glanced between the two of you like a deer in headlights. "Uh. N-no, thank you," Matt studdered, wiping sweat from his brow.

The three of you made it back to the front of the store, walking past BDSM gear and lingerie. "Okay, with your employee discount, it's gonna be $40 even," the girl smiled at you.

"Thanks, Carly. By the way, since I'm here, can I get my paycheck?" You asked, handing her the cash in your wallet. "Yeah, girl. Of course. I'll be right back," she told you after shoving your crinkled twenty dollar bills into the register.

"You work here?" Matt asked, looking at you wide-eyed. "Just part-time," you responded. "And your co-workers know," Matt gulped. "That you masturbate?" He whispered. "Yeah, I mean, if they're the ones thinking about it in their free time, that's their prerogative," you chuckled at Matt.

Carly reappeared from getting your paycheck and handed it off to you. "See you on Tuesday!" You waved goodbye and left the store with Matt trailing behind you.

"Why would you embarrass me like that and tell her I'm a virgin?" Matt asked you, starting up his truck. "Sorry! I didn't mean to embarrass you! I was just being honest. Plus, some girls find it hot," you smiled at him while you buckled your seatbelt.

"Really? Do you?" Matt inquired, putting the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking space. "What do you think?" You narrowed your gaze at him. "I-I don't know. Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked, still bright red from the interaction with the sex shop lady while he shifted into drive. "C'mon, Matthew. Let's go home," you turned your gaze back to the road in front of you guys.

"Okay, if you tell my dad we went into a sex shop, he's going to kill me," Matt looked over at you with a serious expression as he pulled into his driveway. "Why would I tell him that? Plus, you're not going home just yet. We're gonna go hang out in my treehouse. Remember?" You reminded Matt, slugging him in the arm.

"I-I don't wanna smoke weed," Matt admitted to you. "That's fine. You don't have to. I'm not gonna make you. But I am going to smoke weed, and you can hang out with me up there while I do, and we can just talk. Get to know each other better," you suggested, staring at Matt's lips and licking your own. "Okay," Matt hesitantly agreed.

He followed you through the wooden gate on the side of your house into your backyard where the two of you climbed the rope ladder up to your treehouse. Matt noted how much bigger the structure looked on the inside once you and he were in it.

You made your way over to a bag you had stuffed in a crevice in the wooden-pannel flooring, and Matt's nose wrinkled as a pungent smell filled the air when you opened it. Matt noted that it contained a lighter, rolling papers, and several nugs of a green substance.

"You keep your weed up here?" Matt asked you, his eyes widening. He'd never seen it in person, just in movies and in pictures where teachers in school were showing him what to stay away from. "The devil's lettuce," he remembered church leaders referring to it at sermons.

"Yeah, my mom's one of those people who's in denial about everything, so if I keep it out of her sight, she can more easily pretend I don't," you snickered. You sat down on the floor with your back up against the wall, and Matt was directly across from you, leaning up against the opposite wall.

You started to roll a joint, grinding the flower up with your fingers while you watched Matt's nervous expression. "So, why don't you smoke? Does it make you paranoid or something?" You asked him as you rolled. "I don't know. I've never tried it," Matt shrugged.

"Why not?" You questioned him, licking the joint sealed as you stared into his innocent, blue eyes. "It goes against God's word," he confidently told you. "Where does it say you can't smoke weed in the Bible?" You asked, lighting the end of the paper.

"The Bible says you shouldn't alter your state of mind," Matt replied, watching the smoke from your marijuana cigarette slowly drift out the window of your treehouse. "But you had coffee this morning? Caffeine is a drug and a consciousness-altering substance," you smirked at Matt, using his own logic against him.

"That's different," he said, rolling his eyes. "How? Is it because you're one of those cherry-pick Christians?" You taunted him, blowing out another plume of smoke. "You're gonna get me second-hand high," Matt snarked at you, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt and covering his nose and mouth with it.

"You didn't answer my question. Listen, I don't care if you pick and choose what things to listen to or not, but I was just curious as to how you know what you're gonna follow or not. And you're not gonna get high. I'd have to hold you down and blow it in your mouth," you sneered at him.

The idea of you pinning him down had Matt's palms sweating and his heart racing.

"You get turned on really easily, don't you?" You seductively spoke, taking another drag. The end of the joint crackled while you inhaled. Matt licked his lips and subtly nodded.

"Naughty boy," your lips curled into a malicious grin, knowing this would drive him crazy. Matt hugged his knees up towards his chest to hide the fact that he was getting another hard on.

"So, tell me, Matt," you took a final drag off the joint and put it out. "Do you think it's a sin to masturbate?" You inquired. "Well, yeah," Matt shifted around uncomfortably. "But you still do it," you smirked at him. He silently looked at you, neither confirming nor denying your accusation.

"What's the difference if someone else did it for you?" You stared at him lustfully, testing him. "I guess I'm not sure," Matt softly responded. "Well, you should think about that," you told him as you started opening the package that contained your new vibrator.

"W-what are you doing?" Matt asked nervously. "I'm just testing it out," you assured him. "In front of me?" Matt inquired, his eyes growing wider. "Relax. I'm not gonna get off with it in front of you. Unless you want me to," you smirked at him, turning on the vibrator and running it across your palm and your wrist.

"Here, feel it," you said, crawling over beside Matt and placing it on his fingertips. "Wow. That probably feels really good," Matt quietly responded, imagining how you'd sound and look with it between your legs. "I can't wait to use it tonight," you whispered in his ear, gently grazing his earlobe with your lip. Matt's stare flicked up to meet yours while you ran the toy across his palm.

"Are you gonna think about me?" You were shocked at the words that left Matt's mouth. It was the most forward he'd been with you, and it kind of turned you on. "Of course, I am. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I met you," you quietly whispered, your gaze dancing between his perfectly blue eyes and his full, pink lips.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt a magnetic-like pull as the two of you leaned in to close the distance that lingered between the two of you. And just as your lips were about to touch, you heard your mom calling your name from inside the house.

You pulled back, shut off your buzzing toy, and sighed. Matt was looking at you with a desperate and needy expression. You leaned in and whispered in his ear again, "I've gotta go. Text me. And when you write about me in your diary tonight, make sure you call me mommy."

part two posted here 💖

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theonottsbxtch · 7 months ago

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PRIVATE | LN4

an: requested by @bhuijnbhuijn-blog this was so fun to make! it feels to good to make a smau after a few days of straight writing

fc: random girls on pintrest and isabel larosa

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thank you london and thank you to my beloved

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appartment in monaco

You were perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, barefoot, legs dangling as you watched Lando move around the open kitchen. The soft click of cabinet doors and the muted thud of a cereal box landing on the counter are the only sounds, apart from the faint music playing from your speaker. It was your calm playlist, just background noise, a playlist you curated 100% but one Lando pretended he created to wind you up. He didn’t mind—he hummed along sometimes, absentmindedly, just like now. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue over everything, making the moment feel even more private, more intimate.

Lando was shirtless wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. It was a version of him few people ever get to see. No fireproof suit, no helmet. No world watching his every move. Here, in this quiet corner of your shared world, he was just... him. And you loved him like this, more than anything.

As he fumbled with the coffee machine, you leant back on your hands, your fingers curling against the cool granite of the counter. The smell of coffee mingled with the lazy warmth of the afternoon. You were both settled into this comfortable rhythm of being together, the kind of domesticity that felt almost foreign when you thought of your lives outside these walls—your career, his racing, the flashing lights and the fans.

But here, it was different.

You’d been thinking about it for a while now. The thought had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks, and today felt like the right time to broach it. Or maybe it was just that the stillness of this moment made you feel brave. You took a breath, voice soft as you broke the quiet.

“I’ve been thinking…” Your words drift into the space between you, casual but with a certain weight that you know will catch his attention. Lando looked over at you, coffee cup in hand, waiting for you to continue. You smiled, trying to keep it light. “Maybe it’s time we go public… on Instagram.”

He froze for a beat, his eyes locking on yours as if he was trying to read your face, gauge how serious you were. Slowly, he set the cup down on the counter, his brow furrowing in that familiar way that meant he was already thinking too much.

“Public?” he repeated, like he was testing the word, feeling it out. His voice was calm, but you could sense the undertone of concern, the hesitation that came with anything that involves exposing more of your lives to the world outside. “You sure about that?”

You nodded, even though you knew he was not just asking for the sake of it. There was more behind his question than the words. It was not just a simple post to him—it was a line you were crossing, a step into a world he was all too familiar with, and not in a good way.

“I am,” you said softly. “We’ve been so careful, keeping things private, but… I don’t want to hide us anymore. I don’t want to pretend we’re not a part of each other’s lives.” You watched him as you spoke, searching his face for any sign of agreement, but he was still quiet, arms folded across his chest, his gaze drifting somewhere just past you.

Lando shifted his weight, leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the granite, a telltale sign that his mind was working through what you’d just said. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his curls, the kind of movement that let you know he was trying to choose his words carefully.

“I get it,” he said finally, his voice softer now, but there was still a trace of reluctance. “But… it’s different for you. Your fans, they’re supportive. You’re already used to the attention. My world… it’s not like that. It can get ugly fast. And once we put it out there, it’s out there. We can’t take it back.”

You slid off the counter and moved toward him, your bare feet silent on the floor. Standing in front of him, you reached for his hands, threading your fingers through his. “I know, love. I know how hard it can be for you. But I’m not asking for some big, dramatic reveal. Just something simple. A photo. Something that feels like us, something quiet.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the protective instinct he’d always had when it came to the life you’d built together versus the part of him that wanted to trust in your strength, in the fact that you could handle it.

“I don’t want them coming after you,” he said quietly, almost more to himself than to you. “I don’t want you to deal with the kind of hate I get.”

Lifting one hand to his face, cupping his cheek gently, your thumb grazed over his skin. “I’ve been in the public eye for years now. I’ve had my share of negativity, too. But we’ve got each other, right? We can handle it. I can handle it.” You paused, letting your words sink in. “And I’m tired of hiding something that makes me so happy.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to imagine what it would be like—the backlash, the media storm. But when he opened them again, there was something softer there, a quiet surrender. He still looked hesitant, but there was an acceptance in his expression now, like maybe, just maybe, he was willing to trust you on this.

“A photo,” he repeated, his voice almost resigned but not unkind. “Something simple.”

You nodded, your smile growing. “Just one.”

He chuckled softly, pulling you into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head. “You really want this, huh?” His voice was a little lighter now, though you could still feel the weight of the decision lingering between you.

“I do,” you murmured into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him—clean and warm, like home. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. Just something that feels like us. Something honest.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your waist. “Alright,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “But if it all blows up in our faces, you’re the one dealing with the PR disaster.”

You laughed, the sound soft and full of relief. “Deal. I’ll take full responsibility.” You leant up and kissed him, your lips brushing his with a gentleness that said more than words ever could. “Promise.”

landonorris

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enjoyed the final show of the break, time for austin

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appartment in monaco

It had been a few weeks since you had gone public, and the house felt the same. The kitchen still smelt like coffee in the afternoons, and Lando’s laughter still echoed through the rooms. But outside, in the world that wasn’t contained by these walls, things had shifted.

The first few days after you had posted that picture—a simple, candid shot of you two tangled on the couch, laughing at something neither of you can remember now—felt like a blur. Your Instagram blew up instantly, flooded with comments, some gushing, some not so kind. The had media picked it up, headlines spun their usual stories, and of course, his world—Formula 1, with its intense, relentless scrutiny—had its own opinions. Most of it was harmless, but some of it... wasn’t.

Lando was standing in front of the window, staring out at nothing in particular. You could tell from the way his shoulders were tense, from the way his hand kept moving to rub the back of his neck, that something had been weighing on him. He’d been quieter these last few days, not in the way that shut you out, but in the way that let you know he was overthinking, worrying about things he didn’t need to.

You were sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, pretending to scroll through Instagram, but your attention was on him. You watched as he checked his phone again, probably seeing another headline or some new wave of comments. His jaw tightened, and that was when you knew it’s time to say something.

“Lan,” you called out softly, trying to break the tension in the room. “Come over here.”

He hesitated for a second, like he was debating whether to pull you into his worry or let it be, but then he walked over, his feet dragging slightly on the wooden floor. He sank down beside you on the couch, letting out a long, tired breath. His arm came around your shoulders instinctively, pulling you closer, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Talk to me,” you said gently, tilting your head to look up at him.

He didn’t meet your eyes at first, he just stared at the floor. “I’ve been seeing some of the comments,” Lando admitted, his voice low, as if he was trying to keep it casual but couldn’t quite manage it. “There’s a lot of hate. A lot of people saying… awful things. About you, about us.” He paused, running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want this for you.”

You felt his arm tighten around you, like he was trying to protect you from something that was already out there, something he couldn’t control. It broke your heart a little, the way he carried that weight, like he was responsible for every cruel word thrown your way.

You shifted in his arms, turning to face him, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek. “I know,” you said softly. “But, darling, it’s not getting to me. Not even a little.” You smiled, trying to get him to see the truth in your eyes. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know that people are going to say whatever they want. But they don’t matter. You do.”

He finally looked up at you, his brow furrowed, still sceptical. “But some of it’s brutal,” he insisted, his voice tight. “They’re dragging you through the mud just because we went public. I didn’t want you to deal with this part of my life, the ugly part.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and the sound seemed to catch him off guard. “Honestly? I’ve dealt with worse. You should’ve seen the comments I got after that one music video,” you teased lightly, hoping to ease his worry. “But this? This is nothing.”

He didn’t look convinced, but you could see him trying to process what you were saying, like he wanted to believe you but couldn’t quite let go of his own guilt. So, you decided to prove it to him in a way you knew would get through that thick head of his.

With a sly smile, you grabbed your phone and opened Twitter, your fingers moved quickly over the screen as you pulled up your account. He watched you, confused, until you glanced up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it, then you tilted the phone toward him so he could see the tweet you’d just typed out. In bold letters, it read:

"how i sleep knowing i get to sleep with this hunk of a man at night and you don’t "

Below the text was the picture you’d been sitting on for a while—one of him sleeping in the paddock last season.

His eyes widened as he read it, then flicked to the photo. “You’re not serious,” he said, though there’s a laugh hidden in his voice now.

“Oh, I am very serious,” you said, grinning at him as you hovered over the “Tweet” button. “If people want to hate, let them. But I’m going to remind them who I get to come home to every night.”

He stared at you for a second, then shook his head, a small, incredulous smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

You shrugged, your finger tapping the button before he could say another word. “It’s out there now,” you said, holding up the phone in triumph. “Let them come for me.”

He leant back against the couch, running his hands over his face, but you could see the way his shoulders had finally relaxed, the tension ebbing away. He laughed, a real, genuine laugh, and it warmed you from the inside out. “You’re actually insane,” he said, pulling you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

You looked up at him, beaming. “Sweetheart, they can say whatever they want. It doesn’t change anything. I’ve got you, and that’s all that matters.”

For the first time in days, the worry in his eyes faded completely. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly, his breath warm against your hair. “I love you,” he murmured, the words soft but full of meaning.

“I love you more.”

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haters gunna hate, anyway check out my new song x

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tteotlma · 3 months ago

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Sugar and Skin

2. Second Impressions || Previous - Next

a simple favor for Steve leads to an unexpected second encounter and a lingering trace of powdered sugar that's harder to ignore than it should be.

TattooArtist!Bucky x Baker!Reader (3.9kw)

tw: 18+ MDNI; mild language, subtle tension, implied attraction, slow-burn, strangers to friends to lovers. a/n: NOTE!!! If u see "{{...}}" then that means i think u can skip it and be fine. and i think i finally decided on a weekly schedule.

“White chocolate macchiato?” Bucky called out as he pushed the glass door open with his back, swinging around to face an empty storefront.

“Don’t judge!” He heard from the back room, as he set the bag and cup on the counter.

“Never pegged you for the type.” Bucky smirked, watching his best friend practically float towards the pastry on the counter. He watched in bewilderment as Steve tore the bag open and took an enormous bite.

“Yeah well, how many years has it been?” Steve asked with a mouth full of bread, crumbs of almond slipping from his lips. Bucky didn’t say anything. Steve took a swig of the hot coffee and melted into the seat beside him.

“It’s like Christmas in a cup.” He held the cup with both hands to his chest, a dopey grin plastered on his face. Again, Bucky just stared.

“Listen, you may not get it but once you actually slow down you start to find things you never even knew you could enjoy.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t say anything.” Bucky held his hands up in defense as he leaned across the counter.

“You didn’t have to, I know that look on your face.”

“Just never thought I’d see you practically jizz in your pants over a cup of coffee, and a danish.” Bucky jabbed at the blonde in front of him.

He watched as Steve stilled in his throat before groaning, dragging a hand down his face as he shook his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“And you’re apparently unpredictable,” Bucky shot back, slouching against the counter with a smirk. “White chocolate macchiato? Really? Who are you, Steven?”

Steve glared at him, from the corner of his eye. Eyebrows furrowed.

“Just never thought I’d see you practically cum in your pants over a cup of coffee and a bear claw, is all Stevie,” Bucky quipped, emphasizing the name as he rocked forward against the counter, arms crossed.

Steve froze mid-sip, his eyes narrowing slightly before he set the cup down with exaggerated care. “Guess you met Y/N,” he said, his tone casual, though there was an edge of something unspoken.

“Y/N,” Bucky repeated, testing the name as he tilted his head, studying him. “That the baker?”

Steve nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. She runs the café with this guy Sam. They’re partners. She handles the baking and the day-to-day stuff; he’s the coffee guy.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, tutting his jaw forward. “Didn’t realize you were so invested in her business model, Steven.” He continues to study his face, resting his leather padded elbows against the granite.

Steve gave him a dry look, shaking his head. “They’re good people, Buck. Been going there for years since before this place opened up. Y/N’s always just somehow been there for me. You know how it is—some people just stick.”

Bucky just stared. He locked eyes with Steve, and watched as the jewelry attached to the end of his eyebrow quirked up as he silently questioned him.

“What’s the big deal anyway? Why do you even care?” Steve finally blurted out, his fingers crinkled the paper bag in his hands, signalling that not only he was getting irritated but that Bucky was behaving strangely. He stepped back, and blinked.

“Nothing—I don’t care—just didn’t expect you to have something like that going on,” Bucky said, his voice quieter now, though his words still carried a pointed edge. He put his hands against the counter, studying Steve’s reaction.

Steve blinked, his head tilting slightly as if trying to figure out what Bucky wasn’t saying. “Something like what?” he asked, his tone casual, but his gaze sharp.

Bucky hesitated for a beat, his jaw working as he tried to shrug it off. “I don’t know,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely toward the coffee cup. “This whole… thing. The bear claws, the macchiato, the… normalcy.”

Steve’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, his tongue brushing lightly over the ring adorning his lip, though a slight furrow creased his brow. “It’s not a thing, Buck. She’s a friend—a good one. Don’t make it weird.” He took another swig of his sweet drink.

“I’m not making it weird,” Bucky shot back quickly, his voice defensive. He shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable under Steve’s gaze. “Just didn’t peg you for it, that’s all.”

“For what?” Steve pressed, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing.

Bucky straightened, his smirk returning though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “For someone who’s got his coffee order memorized by a baker, Steve. That’s all.”

Steve snorted, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re reading way too much into this,” he said, but there was something unspoken in his tone, something that made Bucky’s jaw tighten again.

“Maybe,” Bucky muttered, pushing off the counter as he adjusted his stance.

The sound of the door swinging open cut through the moment, the brass bell bouncing sharply against the frame. Bucky glanced toward the entrance, catching the figure stepping inside, but his attention quickly shifted back to Steve.

Steve’s gaze flickered to the newcomer, then back to Bucky. He squinted slightly, as if assessing something unspoken, before pushing himself up from the chair. Grabbing the remains of the danish, he took one last bite before tossing it casually onto the desk. Without another word, he moved to greet the client, leaving Bucky standing there, the earlier conversation still hanging heavily in the air.

“But it’s still a hell of a danish, apparently,” Bucky muttered under his breath, his eyes flickering to the discarded pastry before walking towards the back office.

Bucky lingered by the doorway, watching as Steve greeted the newcomer with that same easy grin he gave everyone. The client, a guy in his early twenties, handed over a folded piece of paper—probably some Pinterest-inspired design that would drive Steve nuts later.

Steve took the paper with a nod, already slipping into professional mode, but Bucky’s thoughts stayed stuck on their earlier conversation. The weight of Steve’s words hung in the back of his mind.

He leaned against the office door frame, absently running his thumb along a faint tear in the leather of his jacket. It wasn’t the baker herself that was bothering him, he told himself—it was the way Steve had talked about her. Like she was more than just someone who made a good danish.

Bucky huffed quietly, glancing toward the counter where Steve was already sketching something out for the kid. He tried to brush it off, but the thought lingered, like a splinter under his skin.

Pushing off the doorframe, he headed toward the back. He didn’t need to stay and hear more—it wasn’t his business anyway. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

—

{{As you threw your head back to laugh at a joke Sam had suddenly thrown out, the bell above the door jingled lightly catching your attention. You glanced up just in time to see him—the man in the leather jacket—pushing the door open, stepping into the cool afternoon air.

Your gaze lingered briefly, watching as he walked past the window, his broad shoulders hunched slightly against the chill. There was something about the way he moved—deliberate, careful, like he didn’t quite belong here.

Sam’s voice cut through the café’s hum as he leaned against the counter, watching the door swing shut behind the man in the leather jacket. “What was his deal?”

You looked away from the window, your brow furrowing. “Who?”

He gestured toward the door with a sharp nod. “Steve’s “friend”. Looked like he was ready to bolt the second he walked in.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you placed loose napkins back in their holder. “Maybe he’s just not an outside person.”

Sam scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Right. Like that explains the way he was looking at you.”

That made you pause, your hand hovering over the counter as you turned to him. “Looking at me? He wasn’t—”

“He was,” Sam interrupted, his tone flat but edged with something harder. “Like he was trying to figure you out or something.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as you turned back to your work. “You’re imagining things. He didn’t even say more than a few words to me.”

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t looking,” Sam muttered under his breath, the smirk tugging at his lips doing little to mask the irritation in his voice.

Your lips pressed together as you glanced toward the counter, catching Peter juggling cups and fumbling with the register, his expression one of barely concealed panic. You exhaled sharply and jutted your chin toward him. “I think Peter needs your help,” you said, keeping your tone casual, but the shift was deliberate.

As the café settled back into its usual rhythm, you found yourself distracted, your hands working on autopilot as you adjusted the remaining pastries in the display. It wasn’t like you to dwell on customers—especially not ones who had barely spoken a word to you—but something about him stuck.

It had to be the contrast, you decided. Steve was always so easygoing, the kind of guy who fit in anywhere, his warm demeanor making even the busiest days feel manageable. But his friend? He couldn’t have been more different if he tried.

Where Steve carried himself with an open confidence, the man in the leather jacket had felt... closed off. He hadn’t looked uncomfortable, exactly, but there had been something guarded about him. Like he didn’t belong here and was painfully aware of it.

You shook your head, brushing the thought away as you wiped your hands on your apron. That’s all it is, you told yourself. The difference has you caught off guard, that’s all.

Still, as you moved to refill the sugar containers, you couldn’t shake the image of him standing at the counter, his quiet presence somehow filling the space. You huffed softly to yourself, determined to let it go. You had more important things to think about than some friend of Steve’s who probably wasn’t planning on sticking around anyway.}}

“Please, please, please.” You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes, biting your cheek to keep from smiling.

“Steven, I have a shop to run.” You said, switching the “open” sign to “closed” after locking the double doors.

“It’s Wednesday. You guys close early on Wednesdays—Please.” Steve begged over the phone, his tone dripping with exaggerated desperation.

“I already did you a favor by ordering the books for you, and now—“

“I’ll owe you one.”

“That’s what you said last time,” You deadpanned, switching the phone to speaker, so you could begin counting the money in the register.

“And I still mean it. Just add this to the tab,” He said, his obnoxious smirk practically audible through the phone.

“Fine, Rogers you win.” You scoffed, reaching for your phone “I’ll stop by when I’m done.” You hung up and pocketed your phone with a sigh.

“You headin’ over to Steve’s place?” A voice behind you asked, making you jump.

“Sam, you scared me,” you said, counting the last of the dollar bills in your hand before compiling it into a neat pile and handing it off to your colleague. “And yes. I have to drop off that box over there.” You nodded toward a medium sized box on a folding chair in the corner of the back room.

Sam swiftly took the stack from your hand and switched spots with you. “And he couldn’t come because?”

“Said something about back-to-back bookings,” you replied, standing off to the side and wiping the counter for any remaining crumbs.

“You think his friend is gonna be there?”

You paused, your movements halting mid-swipe. “I-I don’t know—” The sudden stutter caught you off guard, and you tensed. “What’s with all these questions anyway?” you added, more annoyed than curious.

“Nothing, just…I can take it if you want.” Sam said, slipping some money into a plastic bag and putting the rest in the register before shutting it with a soft click.

“Oh,” you said, feeling silly for your earlier outburst. “Thanks, but that’s okay. There’s some stuff I have to talk to Steve about anyway.” Was that a lie? Sam looked at you. Crap. It was.

———

The entire walk there, you wracked your brain trying to think of anything you actually needed to talk to Steve about. The books were already paid for, and the pastries were an afterthought—a gesture more for your own sense of courtesy than anything else. There wasn’t anything urgent, not really.

If you were being honest, Sam could’ve just as easily dropped the box off himself if you’d let him.

You adjusted the boxes in your arms, and the purse on your shoulder, feeling the rough edge of the worn cardboard dig lightly into your palm. The other box, filled with leftover pastries from the café, teetered slightly on top as you shifted your grip.

The early afternoon sun filtered through the trees lining the sidewalk, casting dappled shadows that danced at your feet. The air was crisp but not biting, a faint breeze carrying the warm scents of bistros and freshly fallen leaves. It was a pleasant enough walk, you supposed, though you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you were overthinking it.

Maybe it was Sam’s question that had thrown you off. Or maybe it was the memory of Steve’s friend—the man with the leather jacket and the sharp blue eyes. The way he’d lingered at the counter, quiet and guarded, but somehow impossible to ignore.

You exhaled, shaking your head as if to dislodge the thought.

It doesn’t matter, you told yourself firmly. You’re just doing Steve a favor. That’s it.

Still, as you neared the shop, you shifted the boxes in your hands again, noticing the faint warmth building against your palms. The moisture made the edges of the cardboard feel slicker than they should have, and you tightened your grip to steady them.

When you reached the door, you nudged it open with your back, the faint chime of the bell ringing overhead as you stepped inside.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the tattoo machine in the distance.

You looked around the small tattoo parlor, the black furniture standing out in contrast to the white walls. More stuff had been added since the last time you’d stopped by—large and small plants now decorated the interior, their vibrant greens softening the otherwise sharp and minimalistic space. A new piece of art hung on the far wall, bold lines and intricate designs that drew your attention for a moment before your gaze shifted.

The space felt more lived-in now, more personal, like it wasn’t just a shop but a place someone cared for. The faint hum of the tattoo machine came from one of the rooms in the back, mingling with the subtle scent of antiseptic and something faintly woodsy, maybe a candle burning somewhere out of sight.

“Steven?” you called again, balancing the boxes in your hands as you glanced toward the counter.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be tied up with a client, but the shop felt quieter than usual. Setting the boxes down carefully on the counter, you adjusted the pastry box to the side before looking around again.

“Steve?” you called again, your voice louder this time as you leaned slightly over the counter, scanning the back area.

The faint hum of a tattoo machine that buzzed steadily suddenly stopped in the back room, but no one answered. You sighed, stepping back and glancing around the shop once more, your eyes lingering on the plants and new art pieces scattered throughout.

The soft creak of a door caught your attention, and you turned just as someone stepped out from the back.

It wasn’t Steve.

Your breath hitched briefly when you recognized him—the man from the café. Except this time there was no leather jacket adorning his figure, he wasn’t wearing it, just a black t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. His sharp blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

“Oh,” you said finally, trying to mask your surprise. “I thought Steven would be here.”

“He had to step out.”

You nodded, pursing your lips as you glanced toward the counter. “I just brought some stuff for him,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the boxes. “Books he ordered. And some leftover pastries from this morning.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward the counter before returning to you. “I’ll make sure he gets them.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, brushing your hands off on your jeans, though they weren’t dusty. The silence stretched for a moment, the faint echo of the tattoo machine still lingering in the air. You shifted slightly, glancing toward the box of pastries before blurting out, “You… can help yourself too… if you want.”

His brow arched slightly, his sharp blue eyes holding yours for just a second longer than you expected. “Appreciate it,” he said simply, his tone even, though you thought you caught the faintest flicker of amusement in his gaze.

You felt your cheeks warm, and your hand drifted to the seam on the side of your jeans, fidgeting with the fabric as though it might keep you steady.

He didn’t move from where he stood, leaning casually against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His steady gaze made your fingers itch, and your nail dragged against the denim fabric audibly now.

That’s when you noticed the black latex glove on his left hand, the stark contrast of it catching your eye. His arm, adorned with intricate tattoos you hadn’t noticed before, drew your attention—the sharp lines and shading that curved around his forearm and bicep were as striking as they were detailed.

When he crossed his arms, the movement only emphasized the muscles beneath the ink, the casual strength in his stance making it hard to look away.

“You’re Steve’s friend, right?” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them. You’re startled by your own voice, and for a moment you wondered why you hadn’t just left right then and there.

He didn’t answer right away. His head tilted just slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was deciding whether or not to engage. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low and deliberate.

Silence stretched between you again, heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. You nodded as you shifted your weight. “Well... I should get going,” you murmured, your tone quieter now. “Just let Steven know I stopped by.”

You turned, ready to make your exit, when his voice cut through the stillness.

“Bucky.”

The name came softly, but it carried weight, stopping you mid-step. You froze for a moment before turning back, your brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

His arms were still crossed, the black latex glove on his left hand catching your eye again as he adjusted his stance. “My name,” he said, the words simple but steady. “It’s Bucky.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling the word catch awkwardly in your throat. You glanced at him, searching his face for a moment, then straightened slightly. “Nice to meet you... Bucky.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but close enough to make your chest feel a little tight. “And you are?”

You hesitated for a second before giving him your name, the sound of it hanging awkwardly between you as you watched for a reaction.

“Y/N,” he repeated, the weight of your name on his lips making your cheeks flush. Before you could respond, Steve’s voice rang out from the back.

“Hey, glad you made it!”

You turned to see him emerging from the back room, wiping his hands on a rag, his grin easy and familiar. “Y/N, can you bring the books back to my room? I just need to finish cleaning my station.”

“Sure thing,” you replied quickly, eager for something to busy yourself with.

“And Buck, mind ringing up this guy while I handle things over here?” Steve added, gesturing toward the lone customer waiting at the counter.

“Got it,” Bucky replied simply, stepping aside to let you pass.

As you moved toward the back room, you felt his gaze linger a little too long, the weight of it brushing against your skin in a way that made your steps falter slightly. You didn’t look back, though the heat crawling up your neck made you wish you had.

Bucky’s focus only shifted when Steve cleared his throat, nodding toward the counter. His sharp gaze flicked toward Steve, a quick, pointed look passing between them, before he turned to handle the transaction, his movements deliberate but unhurried.

You stepped into the back room, the soft scuff of your shoes blending with the faint hum of the tattoo machine in the distance. Steve was already moving to clear off a cluttered table, his grin easy as ever.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, nodding toward the box of books you carried.

“Don’t mention it,” you replied, setting the box down carefully. “Though you might want to remember I’ve been keeping track, and it looks like you’ll be paying me back for the rest of your life.”

Steve let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.”

You smirked. “And you’re lucky I’m nice.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he teased, pushing off the doorframe. “Thanks again, Y/N. Seriously.”

His sincerity caught you slightly off guard, but you brushed it off with a shrug. “No problem, Stevie.”

He raised his hand, palm out, and you met it halfway with an easy high five, your fingers curling briefly around his in a quick dap before you stepped back with a small smile. “See you later,” he said with a grin as you turned toward the doorway.

Pausing just before stepping out, you peeked your head into the front room, your eyes scanning the space. The customer was gone, and so was Bucky. The faint creak of the office door swinging shut must’ve been him slipping into the other room.

Relieved, you stepped fully into the front of the shop, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder as you made your way to the front. Walking past the counter you caught sight of the pastry box slightly skewed with the lid ajar, the faintest crack catching your attention. Frowning, you reached out to fix it, fingers brushing over the edge as you led it back into place. That’s when you noticed it—a missing pastry.

Your hand stilled, your pulse quickening despite yourself. Powdered sugar clung to the rim of the cardboard box, and littered the counter surface, a subtle, almost careless trace left behind.

Your chest tightened, a flicker of heat creeping up your neck. It could’ve been the customer... but your mind stubbornly circled back to someone else. You shook your head, brushing the thought away as you made sure you had your things. The stillness of the space was broken by the low hum of the tattoo machine, its steady buzz filling the air once more.

The bell above the door jingled softly as you stepped out into the cool air, the lingering warmth of the shop clinging to you. Even as you walked down the street, the faint image of sharp blue eyes and a missing pastry hovered in your mind, refusing to fade completely.

----

a/n: please reblog to support! I also love feedback, and comments :)

taglist (lmk if you want to be added!) : @cheezemanz @shirukitsune @miharuwrites

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best-testing-lab-uae · 26 days ago

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How to Choose the Best Granite Testing Lab in the UAE? | +971 554747210

Granite is a widely used construction material in the UAE due to its durability, aesthetic appeal, and resistance to extreme weather conditions. However, to ensure its quality, strength, and compliance with international standards, it must undergo rigorous granite testing in accredited laboratories. Selecting the right granite testing lab in the UAE is crucial for construction companies, architects, and suppliers who seek reliable and accurate test results.

In this guide, we will discuss key factors to consider when choosing a granite testing lab in the UAE, the importance of ISO accreditation, and the types of tests conducted to ensure the safety and durability of granite materials.

Why Granite Testing is Essential in the UAE

Granite used in construction, interior design, and infrastructure projects must meet specific quality standards. Here’s why granite testing is essential:

Ensures Structural Integrity – Prevents cracks and material failure in buildings and roads.

Verifies International Compliance – Meets ASTM, ISO, and BS standards for construction materials.

Assesses Durability – Determines resistance to wear, impact, and environmental factors.

Prevents Safety Hazards – Reduces risks of slippage, breakage, and degradation.

With strict regulations in the UAE’s construction industry, selecting a reliable granite testing lab is critical for maintaining safety and compliance.

Key Factors to Consider When Choosing a Granite Testing Lab

1. ISO 17025 Accreditation

One of the most important factors to consider is whether the lab has ISO 17025 accreditation. This certification ensures that the lab follows international testing standards, precise methodologies, and high accuracy in test results.

An ISO 17025 accredited lab guarantees:

Accurate and repeatable test results.

Compliance with international regulations.

Qualified technicians and standardized testing procedures.

Before selecting a lab, check its accreditation status through the Emirates International Accreditation Centre (EIAC) or the Abu Dhabi Quality and Conformity Council (QCC).

2. Range of Testing Services

A reputable granite testing lab should offer a comprehensive range of tests, including:

Compressive Strength Test – Measures the ability of granite to withstand high pressure.

Water Absorption Test – Evaluates moisture resistance, crucial for UAE’s humid climate.

Density & Specific Gravity Test – Determines the compactness and durability of granite.

Flexural Strength Test – Assesses bending resistance for applications in flooring and countertops.

Slip Resistance Test – Ensures the material is safe for walkways, malls, and public areas.

Chemical Composition Analysis – Identifies harmful substances that could cause degradation.

Selecting a lab with diverse testing capabilities ensures all quality and compliance requirements are met.

3. Compliance with International Standards

Top granite testing labs in the UAE follow globally recognized testing standards, such as:

ASTM C97 – Water absorption and density.

ASTM C170 – Compressive strength.

ASTM C1353 – Abrasion resistance.

ISO 13006 – General requirements for natural stone in construction.

BS EN 12372 – Flexural strength.

Ensure the lab you choose adheres to these internationally recognized testing protocols to meet regulatory requirements.

4. Advanced Testing Equipment and Technology

A high-quality granite testing lab should have state-of-the-art equipment for accurate and efficient testing. Look for:

Universal Testing Machines (UTM) – For compressive and flexural strength testing.

Spectroscopy and XRF Analysis – For chemical composition testing.

Tribometers – To measure slip resistance.

Precision Weighing Scales – For density and water absorption tests.

Labs with modern automated testing equipment offer more reliable and precise results compared to outdated manual methods.

5. Expertise and Experience

Choose a lab with qualified professionals, geologists, and material testing specialists. Experienced labs:

Provide accurate interpretations of test results.

Offer technical consultations to help with material selection.

Ensure testing follows best practices and regulatory guidelines.

Check for labs with a proven track record in testing granite for major construction projects in the UAE.

6. Turnaround Time and Efficiency

In fast-paced construction projects, quick and efficient testing services are essential. Consider:

How long it takes to receive test results.

Availability of express testing services.

Online tracking of test reports.

A reputable testing lab should provide fast turnaround times without compromising accuracy.

7. Reputation and Customer Reviews

Before finalizing a testing lab, research its reputation:

Read client reviews and testimonials.

Check past projects the lab has worked on.

Request references from previous customers.

Reputable granite testing labs in the UAE work with leading construction firms, government agencies, and international developers.

8. Cost of Testing Services

Compare prices among different testing labs, but prioritize quality over cost. Beware of labs offering significantly cheaper rates, as this may indicate:

Non-compliance with testing standards.

Outdated equipment or unqualified technicians.

Compromised accuracy and reliability of results.

A transparent pricing structure with no hidden fees is a good indicator of a trustworthy testing lab.

Top Granite Testing Labs in the UAE

Several reputed granite testing labs in the UAE provide ISO-certified testing services. These include:

Dubai Central Laboratory (DCL) – A government-approved lab with advanced material testing facilities.

Abu Dhabi Quality and Conformity Council (QCC) – Ensures compliance with UAE building codes.

Private ISO 17025 Accredited Labs – Independent testing laboratories specializing in granite and stone materials.

Choosing one of these labs ensures compliance with UAE’s construction regulations and global standards.

Conclusion

Selecting the best granite testing lab in the UAE is essential for ensuring durability, compliance, and safety in construction projects. By choosing a lab that is ISO 17025 accredited, equipped with modern testing technology, and compliant with international standards, businesses can avoid material failures, meet regulatory requirements, and enhance structural integrity.

#granite testing #granite testing lab #granite testing laboratory #testing lab near me #testing lab uae

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redflagshipwriter · 3 months ago

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Snatching Snitches pt 3: Danny

Masterpost

Danny threw his bag on the sofa and kicked the front door shut without looking. His bag went too far and flipped over the side of the couch. It landed on the floor with a loud thump.

He groaned. “Come onnnnnn.” Danny trudged across the room to fix it and then yelped as a barrel appeared from the ceiling, humming with murderous power. It was aimed right at him. He hit the ground in a roll and dodged the laser blast. The scorched carpet immediately stank.

The next hit seared a hole through his sleeve, missing his arm by a hair’s breadth.

“Ah!” Danny screamed and flung himself behind the kitchen counter to find cover. There was no way a Fenton laser was getting through the marble countertop, right? He scrambled to pull the trashcan out to clear up a place to cower.

The basement door opened with a bang. 300lbs of screaming warrior flew up the stairs, bristling with guns and a grin. “Behold, the might of science!”

“Hi, Dad,” Danny said, contorting himself to fit in the nook where the trash bag was meant to be.

“Hey, Danno!” Dad rapidly changed positions, pointing his ghost guns in different directions to try to catch out the intruder he was looking for. “New sensor went off! Didja see something?” He was excited like a little kid.

Danny poked three fingers through the smoking hole in his shirt and wiggled them. “I saw the new laser,” he said dryly.

Dad’s face fell. “Oh, did you trigger it?” He sadly trudged over to disable the laser, which was furiously vibrating in place as it tried and failed to locate his ecto signature through the signal dampening over granite.

Danny felt his face twitch. “Yep.”

‘Thank gosh my parents can’t figure out how to get a good lock with anything but the boomerang. I would be toast if that thing got me.’

“Well, uh, thanks for testing that.”

Dad’s weapons somehow disappeared, which was great for Danny’s passive level of anxiety. He crawled back out into the kitchen itself and then shoved the trash can back into place. Footsteps thumped down the stairs and Jazz swung into view, already frowning.

“Dad, you didn’t install something new up here without telling us, did you?” She crossed her arms. “Don’t you think that’s hazardous?”

“Nonsense!” Jazz yelped and unsuccessfully dodged as Dad ruffled her hair. “It’s only harmful to spooks. Stay safe!” He trotted back down the stairs to the lab. The door slammed with finality.

Jazz looked at Danny. Danny looked at Jazz. He shrugged.

Her face fell. “I wish he wouldn’t do that,” she sighed. Then she pulled her hair band off with a grimace to begin untangling her hair. Strands stuck out and were wrapped around the accessory, so she only lifted it a few inches from her head before it jerked to a stop.

Danny huffed out a breath and then patted the kitchen counter. “Come here, where there’s cover,” he offered. “I’ll get that out for you.”

“Thanks.” Jazz came over and leaned down enough that he could disentangle her hair band. He did his best not to snap any of her hair strands. But he didn’t want to be too nice, so when he was done he yanked the hairband down to cover her eyes and then threw himself back with a giggle. Jazz shrieked and flung her arms out to smack him. She missed and flailed, fuming. “Ugh, Danny,” she complained. “You’re such a twerp!”

“Loserrrr,” Danny jeered.

Jazz pulled the hair band off and gave him the stink eye. “Turn on the TV. I wanna hang out.”

Wait, what? Danny squinted at her, caught off guard by the sudden change of direction. His sister gave him a smile that looked somewhere between sinister and mild. “No,” he said, not sure what was going on but sure that it wouldn’t be good for him.

Jazz huffed and put a hand on her hip. “If I’m right, you’re going to want to see it.” She sailed past him to grab a carton of juice from the fridge and then went upstairs.

He couldn’t help it. He followed her, caught in her gravity. Danny even knew he was springing her vile sister trap, but what else could he do?

It had been an error.

“Oh no,” Danny said, choked up. He put a hand over his mouth and watched in horror as iconic television host and book club archbishop Poprah leaned over her desk to shake the hand of a tiny little guy in a prim suit. He felt, not saw, Jazz curl her lips up like the Grinch.

“Thank you for having me,” Damian said. He used his hands to get onto the adult-sized chair and then folded them on his lap.

“It’s my pleasure,” Poprah beamed, her teeth very white. She looked as perfect and polished as Damian did. “It’s not every day that a Wayne goes on the record! I feel like I should treasure the opportunity, maybe ask some sneaky questions.”

Damian regarded her impassively. “Perhaps,” he said. “However, I cannot be led astray by your journalistic wiles, ma’am. I am here with a singular purpose.”

The crowd loved that. Poprah paused to let them react with laughs, blinking and smiling as she eagerly waited for the hubbub to die down. “Okay, okay,” she said, waving her hands around to gain the attention back. “No journalistic wiles. You’re too clever for that, I gotcha.”

Damian nodded briskly. “I appreciate your restraint.” That set the crowd off again.

‘I can’t tell if he knows what he’s doing.’

Danny stared bleakly at the tv, where his little boy was sitting with his feet dangling in the air. Surely that had to have been purposeful. The multimillionaire Poprah could have found a smaller chair if Damian had wanted to minimize….

‘Maybe he thinks that sitting in an adult sized chair makes him look more like an adult.’

Danny unsuccessfully hid his mouth further behind his hands, using both of them now. He couldn’t look away. It was a train wreck. He was grieving. He wanted to laugh.

“Well, Poprah,” Damian said in response to something the woman had said. “I am searching for my kitty cat. Might I use your projector?”

The crowd collectively said awwww. Damian must have been fuming, though he hid it well.

“I think I’ve heard something about this,” Poprah said gravely. “Go ahead.” She waved a hand and a ten foot projection of Danny as a scrungly cat appeared on the wall of the set.

The crowd did not say awww.

“Hey,” Danny muttered.

“Kinda cute,” Jazz said idly.

He perked up, and then realized that she had done this on purpose. He looked over and made eye contact. She knew. Jazz smiled again. He knew that she knew, and she knew that he knew she knew.

“How!” Danny leapt to his feet and flung an accusatory finger at his sister.

She regarded him calmly. This was her victory, he saw that now. “Danny, there is only one person in the world who would publicly tell Tucker that he had worms. I knew that you were with the Waynes, safe, and someone had taken you to get a checkup thorough enough to discover worms. It was the Nasty burger, wasn’t it?”

He stared at her, wounded by being perceived so clearly.

“You shouldn’t eat raw fish from anyplace with a black mark and DNI order from the food safety organization,” Jazz chided, not for the first time. “Anyway, no one takes teenage boys to get checked for worms unless they have a lot of self awareness.” She crossed her arms victoriously. “But they take a new cat to the vet!”

“What’s wrong with you,” Danny said, awed. “Your dark genius is terrible to behold.”

She brushed it off. “It was simple reasoning, Danny,” Jazz said, towering in her modesty. She was so scary. He leaned away. Then towards her, torn. “And of course it was obvious when poor little Damian Wayne started looking for his lost kitty cat.”

Oh. This was the knife. Danny leaned away, helpless to avoid the blow.

“It’s so sad,” Jazz said plainly. There was no need for dramatics. It was sad.

Danny considered the virtues of going ghostly enough to sink through the floor in abject shame. “…yeah.”

#dp x dc #dc x dp #snitches the cat au #red snitches

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bambiesfics · 1 year ago

Text

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗘𝗹𝘀’ 𝗖𝗼𝗰𝗸 — Ellie x Bimbo!reader

𝜗𝜚 Author’s notes ✦ Butch/femme dynamics, Ellie’s butch, wears a strap. Refers to it as cock, dick etc. Reader’s a bimbo. Just a filthy, filthy description of how you have to cockwarm your butch girlfriend, Ellie. Slight aftercare at the end too for you, considering how much she just stretched your tiny hole.

𝜗𝜚 If you find yourself uncomfortable with the themes in this fic, maybe try educating yourself on Butch sexuality. This heartfelt post may give you a sense of Ellie’s headspace. And this

!!! [ Please help Palestine ] !!!

kisses u. ⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡.

You were restless and lonely. Ellie had spent the better part of the afternoon preoccupied with the LED modules shuffled in her laptop, attempting to receive her ServSafe certificate. The online test had been eating up all her time, and Ellie sometimes chastised you for being overly needy n’ pouty when she had her hands full with things to do. So you tried to not add to her plate by pressing for attention, or conversation today. No matter how much you wanted to chit-chat with her. You wanted to be good more than anything.

No one saw you and Ellie as a compatible match, if it wasn’t already made visually obvious, it was definitely made obvious the second you popped your pink lips open to speak, while the brunette butch brooded behind you. This was a chance to shush all those insecurities that crept over you and told you that Ellie could be with a smarter, more capable, more self-reliant girl. You wanted to be a good fit for her. So you distracted yourself by jumping through social media apps, flipping through old cosmo magazines, and touching up the corner of your acrylic toe set with some white polish you kept carefully placed in her desk. But none of that worked. You were bored with everything you’d tried. Worse, your girlfriend had been looking so handsome in her loose plaid button up and dad jeans, as she slumped in her kitchen stool. It was getting so hard to remain detached and unaffected by the pristine silence in the house when you would pass by to check up on her.

Every so often Ellie’s pretty face would cutely scrunch up whenever she was puzzled by a question, which made for very testing times. But not as testing as when Ellie did that thing where she yanked at and ruffled her scruffy wolf cut, when she was in deep concentration. It was the cutest little boyish tic. You had nearly broken your own resolve to go run to her arms and litter her cheeks in glossy kisses. Which all made it so hard to have her near, as handsome as she was, and have her not even look up at you once. Not even allowed to step in her embrace, held by her toned arms, her sweet cologne and that woodsy scented jacket.

You were moping, and that moping turned into whining, and whining turned into annoyed flashes from Ellie’s eyes every time you got too squeaky. Those flashes turned into scowls, and that led to Ellie groaning at you.

“Can I help you with something?”

Ellie’s face was unamused, and it made you straighten your spine.

“N-no.”

“Great. Thanks.” She replied, her voice was just dripping in sarcasm. But that little flash of attention you had received filled your tummy with happy butterflies, until it went right back to her laptop.

You felt a twinge in your chest at how quickly she tuned you out. Did she not wanna talk to you at all? Ask about your day? Wanna know about the influencer gossip you found online? None of it?

“Meanie” you pouted while nudging your chin into your palm and clacking your acrylics on the granite. She didn’t have to say it so mean, she was usually sweeter n’ sillier. But today Ellie was a big meanie.

Ellie huffed and held back a massive eye roll. She stuck her head deeper into her laptop, she had to pretend you weren’t there. This test was important to her. You were too, but this seriously mattered more. Ellie needed more money. She needed to find a better apartment to rent, she needed to be able to support you the way she wanted too, and she needed a position with better hours so she could visit Joel's grave more regularly. You knew all that, so Ellie knew your whining wasn’t from ignorance, it was from childishness. She hated indulging you when you were childish. It was bad manners.

But she also knew if this went on long enough you might start silently crying in your pillow because you felt like your girlfriend hated you. You were clearly feeling neglected by Ellie, and coupled with her little sarcastic quip just a moment ago, Ellie wouldn’t put it past you to start sniffling within the next few hours. You were so pathetic. Ellie often joked that if you weren’t human you would’ve been the little runt abandoned by your pack for being so weak and whiny. And Ellie would’ve been a large reptile; a komodo dragon, who felt bad enough that instead of eating your tiny ass she would’ve raised you. Ellie had a weird little obsession with pliocene history, and because you were dumb, with a brain full of makeup and miniskirts, it went over your head 99% of the time. But Ellie knew you well, and she knew that more than outright being ignored, you hated the feeling that you made Els upset with you. It was your little runt nature, to always seek the validation of the large cold-blooded reptile in charge of your care that could still decide to eat you if you pissed her off enough. This relationship was almost ironically engineered.

Ellie understood you way too well.

Ellie tugged at her hair, because GOD you were such a piece of work. An adorable one, but still, a piece of fucking work!

“Okay.” Ellie breathed out. She ran her palms down her jeans, and spread her thighs farther apart. When Ellie manspread like that, you knew what it meant. But you still wanted her to say it. “Come here baby, come take a seat on me.”

“You sure?” you said hesitantly. Your gaze nervously flickered between her lap and floor.

“Need my baby girl right here,” Ellie said. She cocked her eyebrow and grabbed her bulge tightly. Enticing you.

Your eyes flew open. Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a gaping fish. You wanted Ellie’s attention, maybe to perch on her lap while she worked, but that movement meant something else entirely.

Ellie continued on, enjoying the surprise on your face a little too much. “Since you can’t sit still, come sit on this.” Ellie pulled her zipper down slowly, and shoved her fist in the opening; to fish out her hard cock out of her boxers, and rest it on her thigh. You gulped.

Your eyes fluttered between looking at Ellie's long shaft, and at her face. You could tell from her expression that she wasn’t bluffing. She looked very amused, and very curious as to what you’d do next. “W-what about your test?” You quipped. She lifted the base of her cock, “don’t worry about that, just come take a quick seat on this until you feel better.” You went to her lap, and nervously kept looking back at the cock she expected you to sink onto as you backed up on Ellie’s thighs. Ellie whispered “Why are you nervous princess? You’ve taken this before.”

Which made your hole flutter from the teasing smugness in her voice.

You had taken Ellie’s cock before. But after some prep, after lots of kisses from her, and after your slick was coating your engorged pussy lips from intense arousal. Not by just sitting on it while she was busy attacking a server’s exam.

Your eyes were glossy, Ellie found them so sparkly. You bunched your babydoll camisole higher up your tummy, and spread your ass cheeks. It was a good thing you loved prancing around Ellie’s apartment with no panties, it made spontaneous poundings so much easier. You lined up your hole with Ellie’s cockhead. “Good, now just sink down.” She fisted the base of her dick towards your vagina to help you. You slowly sunk onto her cock, taking it inch by inch. “Nhng, Ellie! feels too big, too big!” You clamped up as another inch forcefully popped through that tight little entrance. Ellie shushed you softly, rubbing circles in your back as she fed you her cock, until she was buried only a few inches deep. You couldn’t take her all the way down, and somehow you were so full. It felt like Ellie’s cock was pressing deep into your tummy. You had to hold back from whining to her about how her cock was definitely in your stomach, probably poking around in there. She’d shushed you for that silly idea once before and teased you for being so airheaded. Not like Ellie had expected you to have any better than a ditzy girl's understanding of anatomy anyway.

But as you felt her cock stretch you open, it was starting to feel like that again, like her cock was in your womb. It felt like Ellie was taking up all the space inside of you. She stretched your plump walls around her like you were her fleshlight. A fleshlight that was stretched to mold around every vein and ridge in Ellie’s cock.

You flexed your ass cheeks, and clamped your cunt around her cock, you tested for how much give you had to bounce up and down. But you gave up almost as soon as you tried lifting off the first time. The base of her cock was just too thick. Ellie felt stuck inside you. Like a wedding band wrapped around a chubby finger. You whimpered at the way her cockhead bumped all those squishy places inside your cunt. Ellie reassured you “Shhh don’t worry about bouncing baby, I’m nearly splitting you open. Just stay right here and get used to this angle.” Ellie turned her gaze back towards her laptop, and picked up from the last module she left off at.

Meanwhile your lower lip was trembling because your girlfriend's cock was resting inside your vagina, it was poking your cervix and rubbing along your walls in ways that made your tummy feel funny. The soreness was starting to subside but the fullness didn’t, and you wanted to move around a little bit. “E-Ellie i-it’s hard to move. No room,” you pouted over your shoulder.

“You don’t have to move, baby. You’re in timeout. Just sit and get my cock nice n’ warm.” Ellie turned her gaze back to her laptop as her other fingers drew slow circles in your lower back. It was such a brazenly lazy attempt at support, but Ellie’s main goal was to distract you — not make you feel pampered.

But you’d get that after anyway.

You tried grinding her cock in you, just to put the pressure of her cockhead in other places and not directly kissing the roof of your cunt. Ellie’s eyes flickered to where you two were connected and she thumbed the sensitive skin there. Which made you pull off slightly, you mewled at the sensitization you felt from her ministrations. Your hole was throbbing everywhere.

Ellie moaned at the sight, “you’re stretched so thin here, how did I fit inside you?”

You kept up with your poor attempts to grind n’ gyrate, so Ellie’s gaze traveled up towards your hips. She palmed your squishy ass; then skirted her fingers over your asshole. Ellie sunk her thumb into your asshole, just stopping at the first knuckle where her metal ring rested and whispered in your back. “I told you to stay baby.”

“Ellie no! Don’t touch over there!” You cried from embarrassment, you got so hot when she did that.

She smiled into your back “Why you shy cause I’m thumbing you right here? After your tiny cunt just swallowed my entire length? Please” Ellie smiled into your back.

Ellie’s attention kept jumping between completing her modules and questions and groping some sensitive part of your body. She’d mutter “You’re so tiny, wish you could see how much you’re stretched around me, plugged you up good.” Just to watch the hairs on your nape rise and watch how your hole contracted around her length from her words. Ellie rolled her narrow hips in circular motions, letting you get some little relief from the fat cock bullying your hole, by giving you some friction. The friction felt amazing on her clit too, rubbing along the puffy nub in a way that made heat pool in her belly.

Soon enough Ellie was biting back her own horny grunts, pressure building in her own cunt from the press of the harness. She kept up a slow circular grind to make her little baby feel good, and not feel so stretched out. But Ellie really considered chasing a silent orgasm for herself, it felt delicious to be in you.

You were dizzy with sensations, cock bumping your spongy g-spot just right. Your neglected clit was angry and red, but you were drunk on Ellie’s grinding. You were slurring all whiny “love your fat cock s’much Ellie. S’much ahh, love your coo-ock ahnnng.” Ellie’s hands came up to grope and squeeze your fatty tits. Because FUCK YOU for nearly making her bust after saying that. She kept grinding until your sloppy hole was doing butterflies on her cock. Slick dripping past the seal where you were wrapped around her shaft. Your hole was squeezing and releasing, over and over again as your orgasm tipped you over the edge and your toes turned pointed straight. The bottom of your fingers and palms had turned pink and red from how tight your fist was.

Ellie slowed down the grinding, she was happy enough you got your orgasm. The grinding felt nice on her clit, but she was more grateful at the fact that you might get sleepy and tap out. And she’d actually get some work done for once.

Ellie pulled you off her cock, and onto her lap. She smoothed a hand down your back as you winced when she pulled out. Your cum dribbled out of your weeping little pussy, globs of stringy cum seeped into Ellie’s pants after being plugged up by her cock. It was a mess you frequently made on Ellie after sex. It was evidence of a job well done; and a satiated princess.

You sniffled as you turned in Ellie’s embrace. “You sleepy?” Ellie asked

“Mhmmm” you moaned in her shoulder.

“I got you, you little princess. C’mon hold onto my shirt” Ellie guided your trembling hand to the collar of her button up and shushed you with sweet words about how “well you took her.” Ellie rocked you softly as she went back to her test, by the time you’d knocked out she’d completed a good chunk of her modules. She rocked you until your sniffles had quieted and you were fast asleep on her lap. She tucked her cock haphazardly into her boxers. You could sink onto it again after you woke up from your short nap.

Ellie spanked your ass, and felt the recoil jiggle against her palm. She shushed you again as you stirred from the assault. She whispered “I deserve a little treat after dealing with this bratty ass all day. I’m joking… I got you baby.”

After 45 minutes of not a single distraction to pull her attention away, Ellie completed her test. A solid 93%, way above a passing grade. Good enough to get her ServSafe certificate, and definitely good enough to start serving at her restaurant, and get better pay and better tips.

Ellie kissed the top of your head,

“Did it, peach.”

“Did’itttt wedidi...” You slurred into her chest. She smelled like sweet cologne. Your dreams were so happy.

She smiled into your hair.

Mhm yeah. We both did it.

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nevadancitizen · 11 months ago

Text

-> THE BURDEN OF TOMORROW

synopsis: kamski reveals the one thing you know to be true as a lie: your humanity. connor can’t rightly sit idly by as you struggle to re-find yourself.

word count: 4.2k

ships: connor x reader, hank anderson & reader

notes: i’m skipping from fandom to fandom like i’m fucking window shopping huh. anyway connor the pinerrrr. connor the ultimate denier of feelingssssss

related reading: HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

You had been against the idea from the beginning. In your head, you traced the different ways Kamski would turn you, Hank, and Connor down – “I’m too busy to answer some stupid questions,” or “Go away, I’m trying to enjoy being a retired billionaire,” or “I’m Elijah fucking Kamski, and who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

But his android, Chloe, had welcomed all of you. And you couldn’t ignore how Kamski’s face brightened ever-so-slightly when he saw Connor. But it confused you even more when his eyes flitted to you and his expression brightened even more.

He started talking after he got out of his red-granite-lined pool, which didn’t really interest you. Your eyes turn to one of the Chloes that’s standing off to the side, her eyelids fluttering a little as she presumably scans you. When she’s done, her lips tilt upward in a smile and her head cocks to the side a little. It’s like… she knows you, or something. Like she was smiling because she saw an old friend.

Kamski’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Chloe?”

Chloe immediately walks over to Kamski, her bare feet making soft sounds against the tile, then muffled by the carpet. She sinks to her knees when he puts a hand on her shoulder and pushes slightly.

“What interests me…” Kamski moves so he’s standing next to where Chloe’s kneeling. “… is whether machines are capable of empathy.”

He moves so his back is turned on all three of you, and opens a drawer of a side table near the window. “I call it the “Kamski Test.” It’s very simple, you’ll see.”

Kamski turns with his hands raised. One of them is holding a pistol by the barrel, in a way that it would be impossible to fire. Once he’s established that he’s not a threat, he moves forward and places the grip in Connor’s hand. Connor curls his fingers around it on instinct, his index on the trigger.

“What are you doing?” You interject.

Kamski looks over at you and smiles. It’s like you’re proving something to him. What you’re proving, you don’t know.

He moves Connor’s arm so that the sights of the gun are trained on Chloe’s head. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor. Destroy this machine, and I’ll tell you all I know. Or…”

Kamski makes a half-circle and stands beside Connor. “Spare it, if you feel it’s alive. But you’ll leave without having learnt anything from me.”

Hank scoffs and rolls his eyes, gently hitting your arm with an air of can you believe this fucking prick? “Okay, I think we’re done here. C’mon, let’s go, both of you. Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

You put your hand on Hank’s arm to still him and stare at Connor. His LED flickers between yellow and red, circling in on itself quickly as he stares down at Chloe. His eyelids flutter slightly as he tries to process everything around him, calculating and sorting every possibility into neat percentages.

“Connor?” You say softly, trying to break him from his trance. “Connor, come on. This is a waste of time – you don’t need to do this. It could mess with your…” you gesture at your forehead vaguely. “… microprocessors or whatever.”

Kamski exhales slightly and smiles. He takes the pistol by the barrel, gently taking it from Connor’s hand. Connor looks at Kamski, then back down at Chloe.

“Amazing,” Kamski breathes out.

“Yeah, amazing, I care about Connor.” You roll your eyes. “Let’s go.”

Connor catches your eye and nods. “I would’ve been okay. Shooting the android wouldn’t have impacted my microprocessors or any of my other biocomponents.”

“The kid’s just worried,” Hank cuts in. “Now, c’mon. We’re leaving.”

“Wait – one last thing.” Kamski brushes past, walking to the far wall. He presses his hand to a biometric scanner on the wall, causing it to let out a sound akin to a hiss as it opens. It creases vertically, then folds back.

You let out a small sound of disbelief as you take in what Kamski revealed. Lining the walls of the hidden compartment is… information, yes, but not information about deviants. It’s information about you.

Photos of you as a child, teenager, adult, and projections of what you’d look like as you aged. Reports on how you’ve been performing as a detective. Maps of interrelationships, circles labeled with names and a web of color-coded lines connecting them.

And, on the back wall, are blueprints. You’ve seen these types of schematics before – they’re for androids.

Kamski turns and smiles when he sees your shocked face. “So it worked. You firmly believed you were human. Am I wrong, Detective?”

You feel a hand on the top of your back, and only barely register Hank shuffling you towards the exit as you stumble. “This is fucked. I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, Kamski, but we’re out.”

“N-no, Hank, wait –” You dig your heels in, never once looking away from the hidden compartment. “Wait, Kamski, what is this?”

“Just an experiment.” Kamski follows your eyes and looks inside. “A personal pet project.”

“They’re not your goddamn passion project!” Hank snaps, ushering you along with a bit more force. “Now leave the kid alone.”

“Hank, please, I want to see –” You crane your neck, still trying to look.

“This is damaging to your psyche,” Connor says, taking your arm and helping Hank herd you. “I – we need you operating at full capacity, for the sake of the case.”

“There it is, again!” Kamski laughs. “That beautiful thing, empathy.”

He walks into the room leisurely, like it’s a parlor instead of… whatever it is. “I don’t blame you for being curious. You’re a violent and irrepressible miracle, Detective.”

You struggle against Connor and Hank’s holds as you try to see more of the secret room. “Wh-what do you mean? Hank, let me see! I need to know what’s going on!”

You grab Hank’s arm with your free hand, tugging on his coat. “Hank, I promise I’ll be okay – just five minutes. All I need is five minutes! Please, let me do this. I just need to figure out what this is, then we can go. Just five minutes.”

Hank’s mouth curls into a scowl when he hears the emotion and pleading in your voice, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. His eyes fall to the floor, then flick to Connor.

“I highly advise against that,” Connor says evenly, but his worry is betrayed by the way his jaw clenches. His fingers tighten around your upper arm. “Not only will this definitely cause irreversible psychological damage, it could possibly lead to a mental break.”

“Five minutes, Connor.” You look into his eyes. “How much damage can five minutes do?”

“A lot!” Connor says. But after a moment of eye contact, his eyes soften and he relents. He lets go of your arm and takes a step back, his shoes clicking against the tile.

Hank does the same, removing his hand from your back. He sighs and crosses his arms. “Five minutes, kid. That’s all you get.”

You immediately turn on your heel and rush into the room because, knowing Connor, he’d probably set an internal timer already. You hear both Hank and Connor follow you, standing at the edge of the doorway.

You scan the room, then pick out what to look at and what to question Kamski about.

“This.” You point at a small tablet, showing a muted video of you dancing drunkenly at a crowded party. You’re wearing a hideous necktie like a headband and you get your face right in the camera as soon as you spot it. You can make out the words you’re saying – or, rather, yelling – “What’re you waiting for, man? Let’s party with Miss Page-Three all the way to Disco Ze-e-e-ero-o-o-o!”

You turn to Kamski. “What is this? Why do you have it?”

“Every person moves in a unique way,” Kamski says, shrugging slightly. “Androids already have a specific set of movements. I analyzed the way you moved – the way a human moved.”

“Moved?” You echo back. “What do you mean, moved? Don’t you mean move? Like, the present continuous verb?”

“I didn’t misspeak.” Kamski turns to a paper organizer on a desk and starts to flip through it.

You exchange a glance with Hank, then Connor. Hank is more obvious with his unease, but you can tell Connor is fretting, too. He just keeps it in his mind, still silently calculating.

Kamski pulls out a manila folder and hands it to you. You turn it over and read what’s on the front. Typed out in neat Courier New is your name, your birth date, and a random date from a few years back – Feb. 21, 2034.

You undo the clasp and dump out the documents on a nearby desk. What’s inside only causes further confusion – there’s a photocopy of a will, a death certificate, an incident report, and photos of a car crash. The death certificate is… it’s yours, but it can’t be. Can it?

You pick up one of the pictures and hold it close to your face. The car is a mangled mess of metal, lit by red and blue police lights. Peeking out from underneath the rubble, limp on the concrete, is a hand. Your hand. And it’s stained with fresh, wet blood.

“Connor.” Your voice comes out weak and strained. You can’t lift your eyes from the photo. “Connor, get over here.”

Connor’s footsteps sound, quick and almost rushed. “Yes, Detective?”

“Scan this.” Your hand shakes as you hold the photo out to Connor. “I-is this…?”

Is this real? You want to ask. Please tell me it’s not, Connor. Connor, please-please-please tell me this is some stupid joke. I’m not afraid of dying, but what if I already have?

Connor leans down a little, his eyelids and LED flickering as he scans it. His face falls as soon as his LED resumes circling normally. “It’s… yes. I found a document containing that picture, but I… I’m not permitted to access it.”

“Okay, but that’s just s-some random wreck, right?” You laugh nervously, trying to ignore the lump growing in your throat. Can androids even cry? “It – it’s not me.”

Connor reaches down and sorts through the documents. When he comes across the death certificate, he freezes. His eyelids flutter as he scans it. He looks over at you, slowly.

“No,” you whisper. “Connor, it… it can’t be real.”

“It is,” Connor says softly. “Detective, I… I’m so sorry.”

And, just like that, you’re disconnected. You’re outside of your body, stuck in the passenger seat and controlling a video game. There’s a lag to every movement you make. You recall some term you heard in a college psychology course you were required to take – disassociation. You vaguely register that this is what you’re feeling.

With more effort than it should take, you turn to look at Hank. His expression, shocked and appalled, causes the dam to burst. Your shoulders shake as you cry, hot with misplaced shame.

Connor wraps an arm around your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room and towards the exit. Hank pats his shoulder, telling him to “Get them to the car – I’ve got a few choice words I need to exchange with our friend here.”

The car ride was tense, and that atmosphere transferred into Hank’s home. He had asked on the way back if you were okay being by yourself, and you were honest and told him that no, you’re not. He had sat you down and assured you that he wasn’t mad, he didn’t feel betrayed – he just needed time to think and adjust to this new change.

He had turned in an hour ago, just a little past three in the morning. You know you couldn’t sleep if you tried. That left you and Connor in Hank’s living room.

You’re laying on the floor with Sumo, his head on your chest and drool staining your shirt. One of your arms is propped behind your head, your other hand absentmindedly combing through Sumo’s fur.

The silence is only broken by the ceiling fan clicking with every rotation and your breathing – artificial breathing, you suppose.

“Did you go into standby?” You ask softly.

“No,” Connor answers from his seat on the couch. “Would you like to talk?”

“Maybe.” You trace the pattern of Sumo’s fur, then look over at Connor. “It’s just… I don’t feel like an android. And I have lots of memories. I remember going to Chicken Feed with Hank for the first time. He got me the best goddamn burger in Detroit. I remember finding a Lucky Star bottlecap when I was a kid – the, uh… the ones from that one sarsaparilla? With the blue star on the bottom. Androids don’t have memories like that. Memories from their childhood. Memories that make them feel things.”

Connor stands from the couch, then sits by your side. He puts his hand on Sumo’s head, gently tracing the white streak that cuts through brown fur. The fan continues to click as Connor thinks for a few moments, LED swirling as he does.

“I feel things, sometimes,” he says softly. “But not like how a deviant feels. I have a built-in reward system meant to keep me motivated. But sometimes I’m rewarded even when I do something unrelated to the case.”

“Like what?” You smile up at him. “Petting Sumo?”

Connor smiles softly, glancing away, then back to you. “Yes.”

You laugh softly, your eyes staying on Connor’s face, tracing this new expression. He doesn’t smile a lot, but you’re grateful for every second that he does.

His brow creases a little, his smile disappearing. “Are you feeling alright? I want to know if you’re… I know this revelation has affected you negatively, but I just want to know of your general mental state.”

You sigh quietly, looking up and following one blade of the fan as it rotates. “I mean, I thought I had it all figured out, y’know? There’s a giant ball, and there’s evil apes. And the evil apes are just… dukin’ it out on the ball. And I’m one of them. It’s basically all just evil apes dukin’ it out on this giant ball.”

Connor tilts his head to the side. “And in this scenario… what are androids?”

“Androids don’t exist in this scenario,” you say. “Androids are too perfect. Like fine porcelain china. They’re for the future. I figured this out when I was young, before androids were everywhere. When there was just a giant ball and evil apes.”

“Hm.” Connor shifts slightly, so that his thigh is just barely pressed against your side. “And what do you feel now?”

“I… I don’t know.” You sigh. “I feel… kinda guilty, I think? Because, yeah, it’s bad. This doesn’t have any upside to it. But it’s not bad for anyone else aside from me, and Hank, to a lesser degree. It’s not death, or war, or – god forbid, pedophilia. It’s just me.”

You go quiet as you watch the fan rotate. Your fingers find the tags on Sumo’s collar, the tag with his name and Hank’s address and number clinking against his rabies vaccination tag.

“Humans are complicated,” Connor eventually says.

You snort. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I…” he sighs. “I know you didn’t mean to deceive me. But I can’t believe I didn’t know – or at least have an inkling.”

“Shit, I deceived myself.” You laugh humorlessly. “You’re okay, Connor. You don’t need to change to accommodate me.”

“Adaptability to unpredictable human behavior is one of my core features,” he says.

“Am I really unpredictable?” You ask. Your eyebrows furrow as you fidget with Sumo’s tags. “Or, actually – am I really even human?”

Connor’s LED flashes yellow as he looks down at you, his eyelids fluttering as he scans you. He blinks a few times and his LED returns to a calm blue.

“You’ve fooled my sensors,” Connor says. “And, if I may…”

His hand hovers over yours, which is still fidgeting with Sumo’s tags. You nod as you feel your heart skip a beat. He grabs your hand and lifts it to his solar plexus, right in the middle of his chest.

“Do you feel that?” Connor asks. “It’s my thirium pump. Biocomponent #8456w.”

Sure enough, you feel a soft thrumming beneath your fingers. It’s not quite like a heartbeat, but a steady hum that fluctuates. Strong, then a steady decline to weak, then back to its strongest.

You nod again, not trusting your voice at the moment.

Connor moves your hand so that it’s resting on your own chest, right over your heart. You don’t really make an effort to check your heartbeat but, just like the last time you remember checking, there’s a steady beat.

“You have a heart,” he says.

“An artificial one,” you chime.

“Yes,” Connor relents. “But it proves that you’re not like me. Not a full android.”

“For all I know, Kamski cobbled me together in his creepy basement,” you try to joke. “Do you think he has one? Or is he too rich?”

“Detroit is located alongside a river,” Connor says. “The soil contains too much water for basement construction to be feasible.”

You roll your head a little, looking up at him. “You’re too literal. Don’t you have a humor microchip or something?”

Connor smiles slightly. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Yes, you do!” You laugh and turn your hand over, grabbing his and shaking it gently. “You’re smiling. And you made a joke. A kind-of joke.”

Connor’s smile falters when he looks down at your connected hands. It’s not like you’ve laced fingers with him or anything, but it was still kind of intimate.

You clear your throat and let his hand go, instead carding your fingers through Sumo’s fur again. You can feel a blush creeping across your face. Once more, the room is only filled with the clicking of the fan with every rotation and your breathing.

“I don’t know what to do,” you eventually sigh out. “I wish I could just wake up and start the day over. But then I open my eyes and the time has still passed and I’m still here. I still have to go through… whatever this is.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone,” Connor says. “Hank would never abandon you, and…” His LED flickers yellow. “Neither would I.”

“You’re weird,” you say softly. “You’re weird for that.”

Connor nods, slowly. “Maybe. But you’re vital to this case, whether you believe it or not.”

“I do,” you say. “Kinda. I just need time. I can see the end, which is whole acceptance, or just not caring. I mean, all the pieces aren’t here, I still need to find them, but still. I get all the pieces, somehow, something else, walla-walla-bing-bang – my android-ness doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Walla-walla-bing-bang?” Connor echoes, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“I don’t know what it means.” Your eyes flicker to his and you smile at his confusion. “I think I heard it somewhere once. It just felt like the most appropriate thing to say.”

Connor’s face softens and he mirrors your smile. “That does seem like an appropriate thing to say, yes.”

You keep looking up at him for a moment, just looking into his brown doe eyes. You swallow thickly as your thoughts race. There’s a sudden lump in your throat that you try your best to ignore and clear away.

“Connor, I…” You reach for his hand. He meets you halfway, gently holding your hand and resting his thumb on your knuckles.

“Am I a deviant?”

Are you going to turn me in? You want to ask. Please don’t. Please, Connor. I need you to trust me, just like you’ve trusted me before. I’ll be vigilant. I’ll figure this out. I promise. Please.

“No.” There’s no hesitation or doubt in his voice. “As far as I’ve figured out, you’re designed to act like a human. You’re meant to fool others into thinking you’re really human – because that’s what you were, before. Deviants are androids with mutations in their code. Your code is meant to mimic human emotions and rationale. So you’re just following your instructions.”

“Instructions.” You look down at your joined hands. You shake them a little as your lips draw into a thin line. “That’s what we both come down to, right? Instructions.”

“You…” Connor thinks for a moment. “Yes. But the instructions in you are nuanced, and sometimes contradictory. I’m not calling your code faulty – in fact, it rather reflects human behavior to a tee.”

“So I’m… at least a little human.” You close your eyes, resting your head on your arm that’s propped behind your head. “Human enough.”

“Human enough?” Connor echoes.

“Yeah. My lungs burn when I hold my breath too long. It hurts when I stub my toe and I feel electric when I hit my funny bone. I cry and my tears taste salty instead of tasting like… I don’t know, cleaning fluid.” You open your eyes and look up at Connor, as if asking him to confirm.

“Androids do have optic cleaning fluids, yes,” he says.

You smile and laugh lightly, your gaze returning to the fan blade. “Optic fuckin’ cleaning fluids…”

You sigh softly. “God, Hank was right. This is fucked. An android investigating androids and some… cheap copy of whoever I used to be. And, of course, a Lieutenant who’s slowly killing himself day-by-day.”

“You’re not a cheap copy,” he says. “Typical CyberLife androids cost nine thousand dollars, but custom models could cost more. Personally, my development and production costs total to just over four million, and every new RK800 model costs eight thousand.”

Connor soothes his thumb over your knuckles. “You must’ve cost Kamski a fortune.”

His words immediately go to your heart like you’ve been pierced by a scorpion’s tail. But instead of venom, it’s an injection of sweet feelings and erratic butterflies. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that his whispered words and damn-near reverent tone was intentional.

“That’s… that sounds kinda romantic,” you say, then remember yourself. “I – I mean, romantic as in, like, the Romantic era? Like, it’s a romantic idea. That Kamski loves his work so much that he couldn’t bear to stop and continued to push the envelope… even if he pushed it a bit too far, with an android replacing a real-life, actually-dead human and whatnot.”

Connor’s LED blinks as he thinks. He stays silent for a while, just looking down at his hand that’s holding yours and thinking.

“You’re starting to act like me, y’know?” You squeeze his hand. “A synthetic human instead of a true android.”

His LED stops flickering and he meets your eyes. “I am not a deviant. I have a rigorous self-testing system to make sure any signs of deviancy don’t go undetected.”

“Okay, okay,” you relent. You glance down to your conjoined hands, then back up into those doe eyes.

“Did you mean it?” You ask softly. “Earlier. When you said that you’d stay.”

“Of course,” Connor answers quickly.

“Really?” Your eyebrows crease. “Because it’ll take years. It’ll be depressing. And it’ll be boring. I’ll be worse than Hank. I don’t expect you to reward me or to applaud my every move, because I know that’s how normal people are all the time.”

“But you’re not normal,” Connor says with a smile. “Even before your entire identity was uprooted.”

“Connor!” You laugh and let go of his hand to swat at him, then grasp his hand again. “Alright, alright. I’ll get a bit of the Normal in me. A touch of the Regular. Exactly four grams of Johnny Normalcop.”

“Don’t.” He squeezes your hand. “It would be detrimental to the case if you were to focus on restructuring yourself in a different way. You don’t need to sanitize your personality.”

You smile up at Connor. “So you like me.”

His LED flickers yellow, then returns to blue. “Yes. I enjoy working alongside you as you are. You don’t need to be any amount of Johnny Normalcop.”

You shake your joined hands gently, your smile growing so wide you’re sure you looked a bit stupid. “You’re sweet. You know that?”

“I am somewhat aware.” Connor brings his free hand up to rest on top of your connected hands.

And, just like that, you know everything would be alright. Nothing would ever be the same, yes, but it would be alright. It won’t be easy, but you just need to move on. Uncertainty is a core tenet of detective work.

When life closes a door, it opens a window. And if the fall is too steep, use the fire exit. Run to the roof, because Connor will be there when you jump to break your fall. The most important thing is to keep moving. Keep dreaming. CyberLife can’t reclaim their lost property if you keep running – very, very fast, from one Earth-shattering revelation to the next.

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