#Automatic Door Lock System for Home

[moon-fics]

Pepper Spray Lovers

Pairings: Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: You're a well-known bartender at the Hard Deck and friends with most of the pilots who enter through the doors. However, you've caught the eye of one specific weapon systems operator.

A/n: I'm going to need a break after this one. Holy shit.

It was the same every night for you. Serve drinks, clean cups, chat with pilots, and never give out your number. It was a loop that you found comforting and easy to follow. At the Hard Deck, there was a guaranteed safety with the amount of trained pilots around.

You never have to memorize names because the call signs they have are way too ridiculous to forget. They stand out, and based on their personality, you can match them easily. For Hangman, you chalk it up to him always talking to a woman at the bar, but never taking her home. For Rooster, it's because his mustache sometimes looks like a beak to a bird.

You treat each customer the same and smile when they order. You highly doubt any of them know your name, but why should they? You serve them drinks, and they pay their tab. That's all you need or want from them.

"Can I get a water?" A soft voice asks from behind you. You're cleaning a pile of cups while Penny takes orders. You aren't supposed to be bothered, but you assume Penny is busy. You can fetch some water and return back to your cleaning.

Without even looking at the person who ordered, you grab a clean cup and fill it with water from the water dispenser. You spin around and place the cup on the bar top. You only look up for a second but you immediately stop on him.

It's his smile that catches you off guard. It's almost silly how adorable a Top Gun pilot can look by just smiling. His hair is gelled back neatly, and his glasses are a little lower than where they should be.

"Thank you," He nods while taking the glass. His fingers graze yours, and you realize you're still holding the cup. Your hand flinches away automatically. "Busy night?"

You force yourself to speak because you cannot just stare at him. "Yeah, it's definitely busier than usual," You say while clearing your throat. He nods and takes a sip of his water. "There must be something huge happening for so many Top Gun pilots to be here." You glance around the room to see it practically filled with people wearing navy uniforms.

"I'd tell you if I could," He chuckles. "I'm Bob," He holds out his free hand to shake. You gladly take it, and there's a shiver that goes up your spine at how nice his arms look. Before you can respond, someone is calling him over. He gives a little wave as he parts from you.

Throughout the night, you catch him staring at you. Usually, you'd find it creepy or enough to cut him off, so he leaves. Instead, you try to catch him. It gives you some enjoyment to watch when he nervously looks away after getting caught. After a while, he understands the game and begins playing along.

--

It's closing time, and by now, everyone has left, including Penny. The beach waves are all you hear as you check the register and count the cash left over. There's still a smell of alcohol in the air, but it's mixed with salt and sunscreen.

After shutting the register and turning off the lights, you lock the doors. Right as you pull the key out, you hear rustling. No one should be out this late on base. So, either you have a wild animal nearby or someone is stalking you. Either way, it could mean trouble.

Silently and slowly, you reach for your pepper spray. You unlock the safety feature and press your thumb over the top of it. The rustling gets louder, and your body trembles from anxiety.

"Do you need someone to walk you to your car?" A familiar voice rings from behind you. On instinct, you swing around and aim the spray at them. "Hey, hey, wait!" The person yells while putting their hands up in surrender.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness to see Bob standing in front of you. You don't put the pepper spray down, but you remove your thumb from it.

"What are you doing? That was so scary!" You scold. One corner of his lips turns up in a half smile that is still charming.

"I just wanted to make sure you got home alright," He explains. He lowers his hands and puts one in his pocket. He looks concerned that you're going to spray him anyway, but you decide not to. "It's late, and I know that sometimes it can be dangerous on base." He mumbles.

"So, you waited out here for me to close up? It's been like an hour since I saw you leave the bar." You raise an eyebrow. There's no way he waited that long for you.

"I waited," He admits with a nod. You suck in your cheeks at how honest he is. It's refreshing but also a bit odd. "Sorry that I scared you. I thought you heard me walking up to you." He chuckles to himself.

"It's alright. Just, next time, announce yourself or maybe wear a bell." You smile.

He pushes his glasses up his nose, "I'll think about tying a bell around my belt next time."

"Next time?" You tease. You aren't sure what he means by it, because it could simply be a joke. You don't know if he'll be back at the bar because sometimes people show up once and never return.

He seems caught off guard by your repeating his words. "I mean, it's a popular bar. It's the best one on base, so I just assumed I'd come back," He clarifies while scratching at the top of his lip nervously.

"Would you walk me to my car every time?" His eyes practically twinkle at your question. As if your offer has brought a genuine joy inside him. "You did say it's dangerous on base at night."

"I'll walk you to your car as many times as you'd allow."

It takes longer than you expect to get home. Mostly because you're enchanted into a conversation with Bob way past curfew. Once you walk through your door, you get a sense of excitement for your next shift.

--

The music is loud, and so are the pilots. After a long day of training and sweating their asses off they've returned to the bar. Not that you mind anymore.

You get to continue your favorite game with Bob as he plays pool. Every time he makes a shot, he looks for you to see if you saw. When he gets a ball in one of the pockets, he waves. When he scratches, he talks to you until his turn again.

This continues until the end of the night, until he walks you to your car.

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Chris has a bad day, but you make it better.

Warnings: Smut, sub Chris

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chris came home grumpy. As soon as he had opened the door to our bedroom, I could tell something was wrong. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask.

With a soft grumble, Chris shakes his head. “I…it was such a long day,” he lays on the bed next to me on his side, mimicking my own position. 

I reach out a hand, running it through his soft locks of hair as he closes his eyes with a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, pretty boy. Want me to hold you?” I offer. 

No comment is made as Chris moves to cuddle into my arms. I wrap my hands around the back of his shoulders, pulling him in closer as he presses his face in between my breasts. I feel his hand swarm up my side on top of his own shirt I had dressed myself in. He lets his hand tightly grip the skin underneath my braless chest, bringing his lips to press a kiss on the mound of flesh. 

“Can you, um, can…” Chris trails off, looking up at me with a pout of uncertainty. I look at him with questions, unsure. I feel a tug on the shirt covering my torso, a wave of realization tugs at my lips as I squint down at him with amusement. 

“What do you want, pretty boy. C’mon, gotta tell me.” I state. 

The soft pink hue covers his face as he tugs harder at the hem of my shirt. His lips tug further into the frown painted on his face. “Please, ma. I just want ‘em in my mouth. It’s, it’s been such a long day and I–”

Shushing him softly, I sit up and peel my shirt off. Now in just my underwear, I curl up to him once more. Chris shoves his face in between the mounds of my breasts, breathing in deeply. He presses soft kisses to the skin. “Thank you,” he breathes out as his eyes flutter shut. “--needed this so bad. Hmmm,” he sighs in contentment as his lips suction around my nipple. 

Twisting my hands in his soft brown hair, I scratch at his scalp soothingly. I feel his tongue swirl around the sensitive skin, sucking intently as a wave of heat crashes down my body. I swing my leg over his hip, his hand automatically wrapping and caressing the underside of my thigh dangerously close to where the heat haad swarmed intensely. 

His fingers trailing teasingly combined with his lips and tongue working on my body sent me into a bliss filled with anticipation. The tips of his knuckles move up softly, grazing over my underwear as I feel the cloth stick to my wet folds. The tickling electricity makes my stomach clench as I grasp through his hair tighter. 

“So good, baby–so good.” I breathe out. 

Chris hums in response, his actions gaining more passion with faster movements. My mouth drops open as his teeth graze gently down on my nipple. The gasp leaving my mouth seems to encourage him as he repeats the action.

His hand grips tighter at the skin just barely grazing the hem of my underwear. As his hands start to fiddle with the damp fabric between my legs, his mouth pops up from the suction. I look down, his relaxed eyes analyzing me with parted lips swollen from his previous actions. 

“Am I doing good? Can I touch you more? Please?” he murmurs with a glaze in his eyes. 

I let my lips press against his forehead. “You’re doing so good for me.” He smiles brightly at this. I run my hand, pushing his hair back as I touch our noses together. “I wanna make you feel good though. Can you strip for me real quick?” Chris nods excitedly at this as I let out a laugh at his quick motions. 

Adjusting to sit up on the bed, I watch as he peels the clothes off of his body with speed. The hard bulge strained against his briefs creating an outline of his cock. As he hurriedly pushes the fabric off his legs, my mouth waters at the sight of his length, the tip covered in a small amount of pre-cum. Pride rushes into my system as I observe the state of his dazed expression. 

“Come lay down for me, baby.” I say, patting on the bed. 

Chris lays on his side again, trying to snuggle back into my chest. However, I push him back by his shoulder. His back hits the bed with a puff of air expelling from his lips. I swing my leg over his body, straddling just beneath his dick as his hands grip at my hips. 

As I scoot up the slightest, my pelvis rubs against his dick, pushing it towards his stomach. His mouth drops open with a heavy whine. The grip of his hands tightening on my hips as I feel his pelvis rut upwards into me, desperately trying to create a relieving friction. 

“Oh, please, ma. I need you to touch me, so bad.” he says, words spilling out of his lips as his face scrunches with desperation. 

I lift my hips up and off of him, leaning forward to put my lips onto his. Pushing his shoulders further into the pillows, I feel them shift and flex as he grabs onto my flesh, grasping handfuls and tugging greedily. 

Chris heaves breathless as I let my lips start to wander down his neck. He titls his head to the side, allowing me better access as I suck and nip lightly at the skin, gaining more intensity in the action as I trail down to his collarbone. 

“Please touch me, need it–need you. I–oh…” 

The sound leaves his lips as I let my hand wrap around his length. His hips hump into my hold, quickly stopping as I lean back and place my weight on the tops of his thighs. 

“Does this feel good, baby?” I ask. 

The question leaves my lips as I start to glide my hand up and down his hard cock. His mouth falls open with a broken moan. I grow hotter at the sight of his abdomen clenching from my touch. 

“I–so good. Please, please, please–don’t stop.” he mentions. 

As I swirl my hand faster, swiping my thumb over his sensitive tip, the noises spill out with a different range of pure bliss and pleasure from his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck. You touch me so good, ma–I, I’m–” 

Watching as he scrunches his face in euphoria, I grin with satisfaction. Lifting my weight slightly from his body, his hips start rutting his cock into my hold with instinct. His hands twist in the comforter of the bed, his broken moans falling silent as his mouth hangs open. 

“What, baby? You gonna cum for me? Already?” I say, faux sympathy dripping from my tone. 

Chris nods, helpless to find any words. Speeding up my hand, a loud moan strings out from him and falls into a whimper. “--gonna, gonna cum, ma. I–” 

“C’mon, pretty boy. Show me how good I make you feel.” 

The words tip him over the edge as a warmth covers my hand. Looking at him, I blush with desire at his needy state. His movements come to a slow stop as I let my hand massage over his lower stomach, spreading the white cum on his skin sloppily. He heaves, attempting to catch his breath as he sinks into the mattress tiredly. 

“Did so good for me, honey.” I remark. 

Chris eyes peek open at me, a hopeful raise of his eyebrows making me smile. “Really?” he asks, his voice more rough than usual. 

Giving him a quick nod, he sighs out. I scoot up further, feeling my clothed heat rub along the side of his length. Chris’s hands quickly dart out and grasp at my hips. The whine leaving his lips sounds. I grind myself onto him, a broken groan leaving his lips. 

“I–” he stammers out. 

I lean forward, pressing the tip of my nose to his before trailing kisses along the side of his cheek. “What is it, baby? Feels good, doesn’t it?” I taunt. 

“--I need more. I need you, please–wanna be inside of you.” he murmurs as he twists one of his hands into my hair. 

He redirects my lips to his. The passion and desperation mixed into the movements sends me in a spiral as I start to trace my hips in a circle motion, grinding down on him. His noises vibrate against my lips. I feel his hand tug at the side of my underwear before he breaks away from the kiss. 

“I, please—need you now. I can’t wait.” he announces. 

I look down at him with a soft smile. Brushing the hair out of his face, I tilt my head to the side. “Yeah? Can’t wait?” He shakes his head. “Well, I don’t wanna make my sweet boy wait any longer. Such a long day, hm? Just need me to take care of you?” I purr. 

Chris nods slowly, his eyes wide with an innocent glance of need. “Please, ma.” he states. 

I lean forward, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips. As I sit up on his lap, I reach down, pulling my underwear to the side. “Of course, baby. I won’t make you wait at all, how does that sound?” I ask. 

His mouth drops open, watching me grab his hard length and guide it along my wet folds. As his tips runs along my sensitivity, he whines out. 

“Mhm,” he hums. He tries to lift his hips to push himself into me. Noticing this, I lift myself further off his lap. “--no, please! I need it!” he cries out. 

I caress his cheek softly in my hand. “I know, baby, I know, but just let me take care of you, okay?” he nods furiously, his hands curling around either side of my waist securely as I realign myself with him. 

As I sit on his tip, a gruff moan escapes his throat. I let out a shaky breath as I feel him stretching my walls open. “Oh…” he strains out. 

After lowering myself on about half of him, I bring myself upwards and begin to slowly bounce on him. Chris’s eyes snap open, looking at the point where our bodies meet. I feel his hips grind up into me from beneath me. 

“It–I–oh my god, ma, oh my god.” he lets out. 

The broken words encourage me as I start sitting on his entire length. I pull myself upwards, grinding my hips back down on him as his hands start desperately wandering around my body. 

“Wanna help me, sweet boy? Can you do that for me?” I ask, guiding one of his hands to my clit. 

“Anything for you, oh my god,” he starts rubbing gingerly at the sensitive ball of nerves. My legs flex as I clench around him from the movements of his fingers. 

The moans and gibberish leaving his mouth sends me to heaven as I continue bouncing up and down on him. The friction between our bodies leaves me whining into the air. I feel the familiar build of pleasure getting more intense with each thrust of our hips grazing together. 

“Oh–you’re so good for me, Chris–so good for me!” I moan out. 

Chris’s fingers swiveling across my clit makes my hips chase the movement, grinding onto him more as the echoes of our skin slapping keep my mind trained onto him. His mouth is dropped open, a moan falling routinely with each time I take him deeper and deeper. 

“Please, I’m so close—so fucking close.” Chris heaves out. 

Leaning forward, I keep moving my pelvis up and down on his hard cock. The muscle plunges into my heat as I sit on it over and over. I run my hand upward, tangling and pulling it through Chris’s hair. “Is my pretty boy close? Does it feel that good, yeah?” I taunt. 

Chris nods, his eyes squinted shut as I feel his hips chase after mine. “I–please. Oh my god, ma, oh my fucking god. You–you feel so good. Please…please let me cum in you. I’ll do anything, I–” 

His mouth hangs open as I tug at his scalp. The moan escapes, broken in pattern with each thrust of our hips meeting. “Yeah? My sweet baby needs to cum? In me, hm?” I taunt. 

Nodding furiously, Chris’s hands start clawing and gasping at the tops of my thighs. I lean further, my lips grazing against his ear. “C’mon, baby. You can fill me up…” his hips stutter as I feel him slowly start to ride out his high with heaving breaths. 

“Oh!” he whimpers, overstimulating himself as he stops thrusting upward. “--thank you, ma. You–I-” 

Pressing a soft kiss on his lips, I pull off of him. “You wanna clean me up, baby?” I ask. 

Chris looks up at me, nodding as he pushes me off of him. I laugh as my back hits the mattress. Watching him crawl down in between my legs, I give him a questioning look. His eyes dart up to me with a hungry look, faltering his gaze down to where his semen drips out of my hole. 

“I…can I clean you up with my tongue? Please?” he asks politely. 

As I nod, he smiles fondly. He presses a line of kisses from my knee up to my wet folds, trailing down kisses on the opposite legs. Staring up at me, he takes a long lick up through my heat. The wet muscle moving along my sensitive region has my arch carving up from the bed in delight. 

Reaching down, I knot my hand in his hair. Pushing his head down, he immediately starts licking and sucking all around my wetness. His hands starts to wander down, his thumb rubbing smooth circles over my clit as his tongue darts in and out of my pussy rapidly. He curls his tongue upward, moving it along the spongy part of my walls as I cry out. 

“Oh! Keep going, baby, my god…” I let out. 

I curl my hands tighter in his hair as my hips start to grind themselves onto him. The tug of my grip has his mouth vibrating against me in pleasure, sending me to a state of pure bliss as I feel the knot clench overwhelmingly in my stomach. 

His mouth lays sloppy kisses as he speaks in between words. “Just wanna make you cum, ma. Fuck–please cum for me–I need it.” he says. 

I let out a loud moan as the pressure resolves into a mind numbing glide of my hips rutting on his face. He continues to devour me with his mouth, greedily slurping with a loud volume. 

Riding out my orgasm, I look down to see him shifting his hips into the bed. I watch as he stutters his movements, falling limp as he continues to gently lick my heat. “Oh my god.” he shakily breathes out. 

After catching my breath, I tug his hair as he follows, crawling up and laying next to me. I laugh at the puddle of cum in the sheets of the bed. Giving him a teasing look with gentle eyes, he pouts. 

“I couldn’t help it!” he exclaims. 

I lean towards him, pecking his cheek. I laugh, watching his attempt at maintaining the pout and fighting back a smile. 

“I know, I know–did such a good job for me, baby.” I announce, running my hands through his hair. 

His eyes dart to my chest and then back up at me. I lean over to lay on my side, holding my arms open as he rushes in. I feel the scruff of his stubble scratch lightly as he buries himself in between my cleavage. 

“How are you feeling now?” I ask. 

He hums, nuzzling his face further between the mounds on my chest. 

“Best day ever.” he replies. 

[pixiesfz]

finding her j.r x reader

part of ends with us series

plot: Jill tries to find you

warning: mention of abuse

Kerstin always knew about you.

The entire national team did. You were the girl that Jill lost, her first love.

so when she caught Jill stalking your social media during a team meeting she had her concerns.

“Oi” Kerstin called out to Jill who was opening her car door to leave. Jill’s head whipped around at her friends voice “Kerstin?”

“Have you talked to y/n recently?”

Jill widened her eyes, she hadn’t told anybody that she had seen you or even just been aware of your existence in Manchester.

“Did you see her?” Jill asked Kerstin and she shook her head “I saw you on her socials and then uh I went on her socials and saw she was in Manchester” she shrugged and looked back at Jill “have you seen her”

“Twice”

Before Kerstin could talk Jill interrupted her “both accidentally, her and her girlfriend came to a game and I ran into her at the dog park on Sunday”

“Girlfriend?” Kerstin questioned and Jill nodded “her names Ellie but I don’t know something seems off about her, y/n looks almost scared when she’s near” Jill explained and Kerstin nodded.

Kerstin remembered how miserable Jill was when she figured out she couldn’t help you be safe anymore, your parents locked you in a room whilst she was miles away.

It killed her.

And it was starting to kill her again now that you were back.

“Should we go check on her?” Kerstin suggested “just to see if she’s okay because I don’t think you’ve properly slept since Sunday” Kerstin pointed at the bags under Jill’s eyes.

Jill scoffed but it was true, everytime she closed her eyes she saw you from years ago, bruised covering your body from your parents abuse.

“The way she looked when Ellie called her on the weekend, her skin paled, eyes popped open and her body just caved in on herself. I just hadn’t seen her like that since-“

“Jill it’s okay”

“What if it’s happening again Kerstin?”

Silence grew.

“Then we help her, you’re not kids anymore, we’re adults we have support systems, it will be easier” Jerstin said, her hands taking place on Jill’s shoulders.

And that’s how Kerstin found her way to your work.

But what you didn’t know was Jill visited your home.

And Ellie was there.

When Ellie opened the door Jill automatically stepped back.

“Man city player Jill Roord, what are you doing at my house?” Ellie scoffed and Jill’s eyebrows furrowed “your house?”

“Well technically my girlfriends but you know how lesbians are” she shrugged and Jill fake laughed

“Uhm I’m looking for y/n have you seen her then?”

Ellie smirked “she’s in the bedroom, having trouble to walk at the moment” she answered and Jill had to stop herself from looking at the girl in pure disgust.

“Oh”

“Yeah so you might have to visit another time… or never” Ellie stepped up to the Dutch girl

“What’s that supposed to mean” Jill said, her protectiveness over you now starting to show as she could see the cracks through your girlfriend.

“She doesn’t want to see you”

“She said that?”

“Yeah”

Jill clenched her fists.

She could see the girl lying through her teeth.

“Can I hear it from her?”

“Like I said she’s occupied” Ellie started, now getting aggressively annoyed at the blonde girls presence.

Jill looked behind her at the driveway.

1 car.

“neuken” she muttered u der her breath.

You weren’t here.

She looked back at Ellie, stepping up at her, her head having to look down at her from her height.

“If you’ve touched her without consent, or harmed her in any way shape or form aggressively I will not hesitate to come back here, en deze keer zal ik niet zo aardig zijn.”

Ellie furrowed her brows at the use of Dutch but stepped back at the threat.

Jill turned around and quickly walked back to her car.

She had to find you.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 11: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism - Winter Soldier

Summary: Home alone, you think it's safe to have some 'special time', but unbeknown to you, he's there, always watching and admiring.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content, stalker!winter soldier, masturbation, sex toys, loneliness, exhibitionism, voyeurism

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

Being the adoptive daughter of the infamous Alexander Pierce wasn’t always as exciting and full of potential danger as you’d expect. For the most part, you are confined to your heavily guarded home 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Despite being an adult and wanting to live your own life, your father deemed it too dangerous that you could be captured and used for ransom.

Throughout your life, you’d never even seen one second of action or risk, and some would say that just means your father has protected you to the best of his abilities. There is a point, however, where you need something exciting in your life even though there are only limited ways to get any thrill.

This usually occurred when you were home alone, like tonight. Bored out of your mind whilst watching the TV attached to the wall in the living room, your dad walked past, clicking a button on his phone before tying his show lace. Glancing at the time on your phone, you assumed he was going to work, considering it was so late; you knew better than to ask him what was wrong to demand his time.

Walking over, your dad briefly paused to lean down and kiss your forehead, pretending he cared, but there was nothing Alexander Pierce truly loved more than Hydra. He didn’t even need to say that he was leaving as your dad prepared to leave, assuming you had caught on to his gathering of stuff that he would be going, but before he could step out of the door, you shouted in his direction, “Am I expecting company tonight?”

Your Dad knew who you were referring to. The Winter Soldier. The assassin whom you’d met on numerous occasions tended to turn up unannounced to your home in search of your father to debrief or receive new orders, so you made sure to ask regarding his whereabouts so that you could be prepared for a midnight visit.

“No, he’s a couple of states away on a mission and not due to be back for another few days. I’ll lock up on my way out; don’t wait up for me”. Without another look or even an ‘I love you’, Alexander Pierce left out of the front door, and the sound of the shutters around the windows started to descend, and the thick locks on all doors clicked into place.

You were locked in, and as soon as the metal stopped creaking and you knew your dad’s car had driven off, you sighed in sweet relief at finally being home alone. It was almost like an automatic reaction for your body to become horny as soon as you were locked in, knowing that no one would interrupt and you had free reign to do whatever you pleased, which would always be masturbation.

Turning up the TV loud so you could hear it from your bedroom and not feel as alone, you changed your clothing to just an oversized shirt and nothing more, selecting which vibrator you wanted from the box beneath your bed. Today was going to be the purple bullet vibrator and then returned to the living room.

This was one of the only places where you could feel any sort of rebellion or thrill. Yes, you could and do masturbate in your bedroom just like anyone else would, but being able to do it in technically a public space gave you little bursts of adrenaline. If your father returned home, you’d be able to hear the security system unlocking, but it was also an area that was supposed to be where everyone gathered and had family time. This didn’t refer to your home, though, as you were the only person to use the living area as your father was either in his office, the gym or not home at all.

Lying down on the soft couch, your head nestling into the decorative pillow, you tried to focus your mind into the horny zone. The excitement you anticipated hit you in your gut as you lifted your shirt until it rested over your collarbones to reveal your nude body.

As the chilled breeze ghosted over your skin, it caused a ripple effect of goosebumps to shiver over you, nipples hardening, which sparked pleasure to build in your abdomen and moisture to slick at your entrance. Closing your eyes, your fingers teased over your breasts, imagining they were someone else's hands, exploring the fresh and finding where you were most sensitive.

Pinching your nipples gently, you released a soft sigh as another hand drifted down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Biting your lip, your knees separated to allow your fingers to collect some of the juices that had leaked from your hole and then spread it over your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in circles.

You were entirely in the zone, feeling increasingly more aroused with breathy moans and whimpers escaping your open mouth each second. This was your favourite place to be, hot and bothered, getting yourself off to feel your cunt pulsing around two of your fingers.

Then you were pressing the vibrator against your clit with two fingers delved into your warmth, curling and pressing on the spot that had your back arching and breaths hitching.

Everything was building, like an orchestra reaching its crescendo, approaching the peak of no return and complete euphoria. Then, the sensation rushed over you. Not the pleasant orgasmic blissful shiver but a haunting, the hairs standing on end over your arms and the back of your neck with unease. It felt like someone was watching you, but that wasn’t the case; the building was locked down, and the security cameras didn't point in this direction.

Your eyes opened on instinct, and fear, horror and dread pulsed through your stomach as you screamed, closing your legs and rushing to stand and cover your body with your shirt. Your knees buckled from the lasting effects of getting yourself off, but you clung to the arm of the couch whilst trying to turn off the vibrator.

It felt like your heart had moved to your throat, with the fear of throwing up and passing out at the same time taking over as you stared unblinking at the man currently sitting in the armchair next to the couch you’d been masturbating on. He was sitting as still as a statute, head to toe, in his tactical gear, even the mask.

“Soldier?” your voice reverberates off the walls you’ve shouted that loud. All it earned you was a tilt of his head to the side, but he didn’t say a single word, so you continued to shout, even though you knew you should have remained calm around someone as dangerous as him. “What the fuck are you doing here? You should have knocked or- something! How did you even get in here?!”

He simply sat there, staring at you with deep blue eyes, his long hair framing his face, his deadly hands resting on the arms of the chair, acting casually like he hadn’t just been sitting there as you feverishly masturbated naked in front of him. The more time passed, the worse your tremors became, almost like you were vibrating with anxiety.

It wasn’t uncommon for the Winter Soldier to not knock when he came to the house however usually your father was present or he’d been anticipated but for him to somehow get in when the house was on lockdown and not be expected, it had you on edge.

“Why didn’t you announce yourself, Soldier?” you tried to sound confident and not fearful, but your voice cracked on the last word, which gave away your anxiety. Your thoughts were going around and around in your head; how long had he been there? How did you not even hear him walking into the room?

The Assets head tilted to the other right, his eyes remaining focused only on your face as he finally began to talk in his low, drawled voice, “Why did you stop?”

Your eyes widened in shock briefly before trying to regain control, “What did you say?”

“You don’t usually stop. Why did you stop now?”

Your heart seemed to stop at this question. Swallowing the thick glob of spit in your mouth, you asked, “What do you mean usually? Have... have you seen me doing this before?”

He nods slowly, and you want to vomit immediately. Closing your eyes briefly, you tried to take a deep breath, hoping it would give you some composure. Maybe this was karma working her evil magic on you, you had decided, for having a kink with being caught, which is why you masturbated in the living room. Why on earth were you now upset when you’d actually been caught?

Sighing and rubbing both hands over your face, ignoring that they were still slightly wet from earlier, you tried to explain to the assassin, “You know, it’s not normal to watch people during intimate times like this. You’re supposed to announce yourself or something”.

“But you look at peace when you do it”, he says in the same emotionless voice. His words catch you off guard, but he continues, “You didn’t finish today like you usually do”.

The way he spoke about what you were doing, you weren’t even sure he knew what it was or the consequences of your actions. You knew his history, who he was and how they controlled him. Did he even know what sex was with all the times his mind had been wiped? He wasn’t acting like a creep, even if he had snuck in to watch you masturbate and clearly had watched it several times before. If he was going to hurt you, he would have done so by now, so tentatively, you sat back onto the couch, still pulling the bottom of your shirt lower over your legs and hiding the vibrator beneath your thigh.

“I didn’t finish like the other times because I didn’t know you were watching; it can make people uncomfortable knowing someone is watching them”.

“Does it make you uncomfortable that you know I’m watching?” his tone lowered with the question he was asking.

“Yes! I don’t want people to watch me do this, and what if my Dad finds out? What if you tell him what I’ve been doing?”

Bucky finally showed some emotion as he frowned in confusion, “Why would I tell your father about this? It has nothing to do with the mission? I like watching you because you seem to enjoy it; isn’t that a good thing?”

He seemed so innocent in his questioning. “Just so I’m getting this right, are you expecting me to continue?” The soldier nods yes in an answer as you release a long breath. “If I say no, will you kill me?” This time, he shakes his head, giving you the answer no, which did little to alleviate the nerves catapulting through you.

Standing up from the couch whilst clutching the vibrator, you rushed towards your bedroom, intending to hide the sex toy and lock yourself in so that you didn’t have to sit looking at the soldier anymore. However, as you stood before the door, you thought it over more. If he’d been watching you all of this time, then what’s the difference with him being here now? He could overpower you any time he wanted, and he didn't want any pleasure back; otherwise, he would have made advances before.

This whole situation came about because you liked the thought of being watched or caught, so why were you running away from that scenario? Having made up your mind, you returned to the living room, where the Soldier hadn’t moved even a strand of hair since you’d left in a hurry.

Sitting back on the couch, your eyes remained everywhere but on him. In fact, as you led back down, you closed your eyes with the hopes that not being able to see him would help to calm the pounding of your nervous heart.

Your nipples were still hard, so you pressed on them through your shirt with trembling fingers, not quite believing you were in this situation. The wetness from your earlier escapades was still evident over your thighs, which you sept firmly closed. Biting your lower lip until it hurt, you kept stimulating your nipples by rubbing the peaks around in circles before pinching them to elicit more of a reaction between your legs.

It worked after a couple of minutes as your muscles lost the tension and melted into the cushions further. Eventually, your thighs were spreading as you tried to only think about that orgasm that had been so very close to pleasuring your body but had quickly disappeared from the soldier's appearance.

With your legs now parted and cunt on full displaying, facing the Asset at the end of the couch, you turned the vibrator on, deciding to go straight for the toy this time rather than playing around first. Pressing the device just above your clit, you released a breathy moan, thighs shaking with the increased delight.

This time, your body heated to the point of sweat, and your face hot to the touch because no matter how much you tried to think of anything else, it always came back to the man sitting near you. With your hips jolting and rolling to push against the vibrator, your fingers moved the shirt further up your stomach, revealing your navel and breasts so you could rub and play with them without restriction.

Then, to both your horror and delight, the Winter Solider flashed into your mind, but this time, it was him hovering above you, using his gloved hands to press against your nipples. Your moans increased in volume, back arching with this thought as you begged your mind to continue this naughty thought.

Releasing your breast, your hand trailed down your body, tickling the delicate skin before dipping past your clit and two fingers into your drenched cunt. You were sure he had thicker fingers than you, but the thought of him between your legs, curling them right into that beautiful spot, his other hand holding the vibrator to your clit, had you whithering around on the couch.

Your pussy clenched harshly around your fingers, trying to draw them deeper, needing their fullness. You weren’t sure when it was, but at some point, your eyes opened so that you could look directly at the man in question, who still had failed to move from his seat in the armchair. You weren’t looking at his body thought; you were looking at those sparking blue eyes partially hidden beneath his hair as they continued to look at just your face like he only wanted to see the pleasure you displayed rather than just touching yourself.

“Oh god”, you groan aloud to these thoughts, legs spreading further open and half-flopping off the couch as you curl your fingers faster and harder. You wished it was his fingers touching you, getting you off and bringing you close to the point of orgasming. The vibrator stroked back and forth against your throbbing clit, and that was all the additional stimulation you needed to reach your peak.

Your eyes finally closed once more as you came hard, body shaking and curling in on yourself with each pulse of your pussy around your fingers. You hadn’t orgasmed that hard in months, so it took you a couple of minutes to try and catch your breath and come out of the buzzing created by the euphoria. 

Now what? You thought whilst turning off the vibrator entirely and leaving the two of you in complete silence. The assassins still hadn’t moved, and for a brief second, you thought of his arousal. Could he even be turned on? Was that a function the scientists allowed him to keep while brainwashed? Was he watching you enough to turn him on?

The thought was swiftly pushed out of your mind as you realised he was the fucking Winter Soldier, the highest-trained assassin who was also 70+ years old; this was probably last on his list of things to be worried about. Sitting up whilst covering your body with your t-shirt once more, you struggled to think what to say or do.

“Do you want me to call my Dad to tell him you’re here for a debrief?” From the corner of your eye, the Asset nodded. You stood to take the call in your bedroom, but as you stood, your eyes briefly looked at him more clearly and noticed that he very evidently had an erection with the way his tactical gear was tented at the crotch. For some reason, this made you feel relieved that he had been turned on by what you saw, and it wasn’t just a one-way situation.

Standing and walking into your bedroom, you collapsed onto the bed with your phone raised to your ear.

Your dad answered immediately with a stern tone, “Yes?”

“Uh hey, Dad, just to let you know, the Soldier’s here”.

“What?” came Alexander Pierces’ concerned voice through the mobile.

“Yeah, he just turned up a couple of minutes ago in the living room”.

“Well, tell him to get back to the compound. I won’t be home tonight, so he needs to come here”.

Finishing the conversation with him, you stood to tell the Soldier his orders but found him nowhere in the building, not in the living room, kitchen or even by the front door. He had simply vanished, and what's more, the alarm was still in place, which meant he had a way of getting in and out of your home without triggering the alarm, which you were sure if it terrified or excited you.

[luvv4j4ybe11]

✩ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲~ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧- 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭.

☆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬~ 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤/𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝟏𝟗, 𝐭𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝟐𝟎, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐭. 𝐋𝐦𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

✩ 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬~ 𝐭𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐰𝐧 ~ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, (𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐦𝐤)

You felt his eyes on you from across the room, damn near burning a hole into you as you talked to the two guys that offered to buy you a drink.

You and neteyam always had this…tension, between each other. It’s been there ever since you two met, making you almost inseparable from each other and protective over each other (more him than you.)

It was almost a game, seeing how much you can get away with before he finally snaps, and you’d know it’d take awhile; seeing as neteyam is one of the most patient people you’ve met.

But, the second you reach out your hand to playfully squeeze the tricep of the (slightly) handsome man infront of you, you knew neteyam was fucking fueming.

The two men infront of you both paused their laughter the second you felt a looming presence behind you, knowing exactly who it belonged to. “Can I borrow her for a second?” It was more a statement than a question, but the guys backed off anyway, leaving you somewhat frustrated because neteyam scared off your possible lay.

You whip your body around, staring up at his much larger one angrily. “What the fuck, neteyam? Why do you always feel the need to-“

“Enough. Let’s go.” He orders, taking your hand in his and tugging you out of the dimly lit bar. You obliged with a huff, but it’s not like he was giving you much of a choice to protest.

The walk home was quick, given his long strides and the fact that he carried you the whole way because your little legs couldn’t keep up with him. He opens the door to your apartment quickly, closing and locking it behind him as he walks you towards his room, your mind automatically spiraling with thoughts of what he was gonna do to you. “Teyam? What are you doing?” You ask genuinely as he places you on his bed, making him laugh internally from how the bed looked like it was swallowing you whole.

“You’re a lot smarter than that, babygirl. You think I don’t notice all your little efforts in tryna get my attention? If you wanted it that bad, you know I would’ve given it to you.” He tells you as he bends down on one knee, so he was at eye level with you, yet he still towered over you. You look at him anxiously, his gaze making it feel as though all the words were slipping from your head. “Actions speak louder than words..I guess..” you joke, trying to make the tightening in your chest go away, but failing miserably.

He laughs softly at your little remark, “yeah, I guess they do,” he quips as he leans down to take off your shoes, earning a laugh from you as he does. He’s always so sweet to you. Once he’s done he sits down next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he does. You don’t know if it was the alcohol in your system, or whether it was your feelings making you think it, but there was a warmth burning deep in your core with every second you spent with him that was driving you crazy.

Instinctively, you lean your body against his, basking in his warmth as you do. “You ok, babygirl? You feel a little warm,” he questions, touching your forehead with the back of his palm. You squirm at the gentle touch, pressing your face in his hand before letting out a whine of disapproval when he pulls away.

The soft noise that left you made him let out a a quiet, shakey breath, his mind trailing off to all the other noises he could hear you make because of him. As if reading his thoughts, you pick your head up from his shoulder to look up at him, making him furrow his brow in a way that told you he was curious about whatever you were gonna say.

You take a breath, quickly rehearsing what you were gonna say in your head before just saying it. “Have you ever..um..thought about doing anything with me? Like in all aspects?” You feel stupid for asking such a question, but the way his ears perked up and tail swayed in an almost..excited way made that embarrassment die down. He breaks eye contact with you to tilt his head back slightly, staring at the ceiling as if he was reversing what he was gonna say, but he brings it back down to look at you, braids falling down his broad shoulders as he does. “You want me to be honest?”

Oh, of course you do, why would he ask such a thing?

“Please do.”

His eyes flick to your lips before going back to your eyes, his half lidded eyes filled with both love and lust. “All the time. I think about doing things with you- taking you out, showing you new places, staying in with you, showing you how much I love you-You’re on my mind more than you know, ma tìyawn.” He admits, the sweet words falling from his lips making you feel so much, but through the midst of all the feelings-you knew that you needed him.

You smile at him sweetly, your eyes wandering to his lips before you open your mouth to respond to him, “I’m glad the feeling is mutual then.” You remark, placing you hands behind you to lean back on them. “Oh yeah?” He says as he leans towards you slightly, a smirk appearing on his face as he does. “Yeah,” your expression almost mirrored his, both of you looking at the other waiting for the other to do something.

He reached up to cups the side of your face affectionately, his hand basically holding the whole side of your face as he does. “Are you ok wit this, babygirl?,” he asks, caressing your bottom lip sweetly as he does. You let out a quiet yes before a sigh of relief leaves you as he presses his plush lips against your own. His lips against yours was enough to have you a flustered mess, and the way you felt his hands travel to the middle of your back and the small of your back to support you didn’t make it any better.

Without breaking the kiss you sit up slightly so you can place your hands on his biceps, moaning softly when you feel him nip at your lip, making the heat in your core grow even more. The longer he touched you, the damper you felt your panties get, and you fucking knew smelled you too. It was obvious with the way he smirked against your lips.

He breaks the kiss for a second to pull you into his lap effortlessly, but wasting no time to plant his lips right back on yours. Involuntarily, you grind your hips into his massive buldge, causing both of you to shudder at the small movement. “Be careful, babygirl..that’s a dangerous game you’re playin’” he warns, his hands on your full hips acting as an anchor to keep you from moving. You let out a groan of frustration at his response, denying your needy cunt of any kind of friction. “Tey, please, I need you to touch me..” you plead, feeling a little paethtic as you do.

His face turns into a fake pout, holding your chin between his middle and index finger as he taunts you. “Awhhh, my poor girl..gettin all mad because you can’t get yourself off? Such a needy little slut.” He purrs, his tone was so soft and gentle it made your brain melt, making you whimper quietly at his mean words. He chuckles at you pouting face as he leans in to kiss your lips lovingly, making your pout fade away.

He trails his hands over your body untill he gets to the zipper of your dress, undoing it with quickly before pulling it down your body, the soft fabric pooling at your hips. You inhale sharply once you feel your nipple hit the cool air, making them pebble almost immediately as you try to steady your breathing, but that immediately went out of the window as you felt his hands cup your tits softly, his hands practically engulfing them as he does.

You felt like you were on fire, all types of moans and whimpers leaving your lips as he barely touched you. “So sensitive..” he whispered, an amused smirk on his face as he toyed with your nipples, making your hands fly to his wrists for some type of stability. “Teyam..” you whine, grinding your hips against his buldge; telling him what you want. He tsks at your request, giving you a look that told you to use yohe words. “Can you please touch me? I can’t take it anymore, teyam” you ask, looking up at him with doe eyes. “But I’m already touching you, babygirl..” leaning towards you, he places a chaste kiss on your cheek before continuing “..so tell me what you really want, and I’ll give it to you.” He insists, rolling your tender nubs between his pointer and his thumb. You moan shamelessly into his ear as he does that, feeling more breathless the more he plays with you.

“I need you inside me tey, please. I can take it.” You admit, earning a coo of approval from him. Without getting up, he wraps one of his arms around you and lifts you up so he can take your dress and panties off, growling lowly once your sweet scent hits him like a wave, making his cock twitch and throb uncontrollably. He places two of his fingers on your lips, urging you to open up for him, and of course you do. Taking his thick, long fingers into your mouth greedily.

He smiles at your eagerness, letting you continue for a few more seconds before pulling them out of your mouth without warning, lines of drool connecting your lips to his fingers. He reaches in between your bodies to rub his slick fingers against your puffy folds, making you whimper at the simple sensation.

He presses one of his fingers into you delicately before taking it out to tract slow, deliberate circles on your clit, making your hands fly to his biceps for support as you inhale sharply. “Doin’ okay, pretty girl?” He checked, causing you to let out a breathy, “fuck- yes, m’okay..” in response.

He gave you another loving kiss on your cheek as he increased his pace his pace slightly, making your breath hitch as you felt a familiar pressure in your tummy. “Doin’ so good for me, babygirl,” he coos as he presses his finger against your entrance, gauging your reaction before pressing it into you slowly. You hold your breath reflexively at the new sensation, automatically making Neteyam rub your hip affectionately and let his hands trail over your body before he places his hand on the side of your face. “Nuh-uh, breath for me, ok, sevin?” He urges, causing your breathing to steady almost instantly, and for your pussy to relax and open up around his finger, getting a quiet “good girl” from neteyam.

His finger was reaching so deep inside of you, deeper than you could ever reach- and you were addicted to it. Greedily grinding down onto his finger, asking for another. And of course he obliges, shoving another finger inside of you with a quiet groan, imagining how tight your needy pussy would squeeze his cock instead of his fingers.

You felt like you were seconds away from tipping over the edge, and he knew it too. It wasn’t hard to tell by the lewd squelching noises that came from your pussy and the way your moans and whimpers got more high pitched and lustful. “Cum on my fingers, sweet girl. Show me how much of a deprived little whore you are by making a mess on me.” He encouraged as he rubbed your clit in tight circles, not slowing his pace as he does.

You cum undone with a loud moan, making a mess on him just like he wanted you too. The quiet moan that left his lips as he watched you cum didn’t fail to make your pussy throb, either. He helps you ride out your high, taking hus fingers out of you slowly as your breathing turns regular. He places a passionate kiss on your lips, wrapping his hand around your throat gently to deepen the kiss, leaving you even more breathless than you were. Strings of saliva connect your lips together as he pulls away, making you smile dazedly as he kisses your forehead gently.

“Did such a good job for me, pretty girl. You sure you still wanna take me?” He probed, searching your eyes for any kind of doubt or hesitation, but there was none to be found. “Yes! Please, I still want to.” You didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic about it, but you did. Yet he laughed at it anyway, because how could he ever deny you?

Picking up swiftly, he stands up to place you flat on your back, your whole body on display for him. Looking at him now, you felt anxious, seeing as how huge his buldge was, and how huge he was in general; you didn’t know if it was gonna fit or not. Subconsciously making you close your legs.

Sensing your worry, he reaches down to grab your hand, squeezing it in a way to pull you out of your thoughts. “If you don’t wanna do this, let me know ok? Even if you decide last minute, I still need you to tell me. Understood?” He instructed, making you nod your head yes in response, earning you another passionate kiss as you help him take off his shirt and break the kiss to watch him undo his belt, taking of his jeans and boxers quickly.

The sight of his cock in front of you made your pussy throb, which made neteyams nose twitch as your scent got stronger. You’d never think you’d find a dick so pretty, but his definitely was. There were veins and ridges that ran up the side of it, and there were bioluminescent freckles on the sides that glowed intensely- indicating he was turned on. He was basically the size of your forearm, length and girth wise.

You were scared shitless, to say the least. There’s no way that he’d fit inside of you, not even halfway in could work. “Teyam, that’s not gonna fit inside of me..” you warn, but he hushes your doubts quickly as he rubs his fat tip against your slick, puffy folds. “I’ll make it fit, babygirl. Don’t worry. All you gotta do is just relax and let all those pretty noises go, got it?” You whimper at the sternness in his tone, letting out a playful “yes, sir” in response to him.

You felt him twitch against you when you said that, making him give you a look that told you to be careful with what you say; but, of course you ignored it. He rubs his tip against your folds a few more times before pushing it inside of you, both of you letting out the same moan as he does.

The stretch was painful, of course, but with how wet you were and with his big hands wrapped around your hips firmly, it helped ease the pain. His eyes never leave yours as he pushes inside of you, making sure you’re okay. Quiet groans and moans of “fuck~” and “goddamn, babygirl~” leave his mouth as he pushes almost halfway inside of you, trying his hardest to not shove his whole cock inside of you and fuck you relentlessly till your cockdrunk and stuffed full of his cum.

You on the other hand, you felt like if he pushed into anymore he was definitely gonna puncture your damn lung. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, since he was brushing against all your sensitive spots you didn’t know existed. Before you could warn him the pressure in you stomach snaps, covering his cock in your cum even though he was halfway inside of you. “Fuck, y/n~ it’s almost like you want me to hurt you.” He says shakily, trying to steady himself before he continues pushing inside of you.

You try choking out an “I’m sorry” but all that feel from your mouth was a lewd moan as he continue pushing inside of you. You place your shakey hands on his for some type of grounding, making him lace his fingers in between yours as he finally pushes the rest of his cock inside of you. “Fuck..” you hear him growl out lowly, making you lift your head up to look at him, but his eyes were pinned to the very obvious buldge in your stomach. You whimper at the sight, pussy fluttering around neteyam as he bucks his hips into you. Unintentionally hitting your sweet spot.

Bur the way your body reacted to his slight movement encouraged him to do it again, earning him the same reaction as more moans and whimpers fell from your lips. “Feel good?” He knew it did, he just wanted to hear you try to respond to him. “Mh-mhm, feels s..so-go-good” you choke out, the pressure in your stomach coming back quickly. “Mhm, really? Lemme hear how good it feels, baby.” He purrs as he picks your hips up so he can hit your sweetspot at a different angle, making you see stars as all types of noises fall from your lips. “Fuck, tey!~ I’m gonna-“ you try to warn but that went downhill as soon as his thumb brushed against your clit, covering you two in your juices.

You felt him twitch and throb inside of you at the sight, causing tears of overstimulation to fall from your face as he continues ramming into your raw pussy. “Fuck- i know, babygirl. Want you to give me one more ok? Can you do that?” He urges as he rubs circles on your slick, hardened nub. You nod your head lazily, not even really knowing what you’re consenting to. He throws your legs over his shoulders, hitting your sweetspot even deeper as he tries to not crush your small frame with his weight. His hands trail over your body hungrily, gripping whatever flesh he can before sinking his teeth into it.

You feel like your being pushed to your absolute limit, tears of pain and pleasure streaming down your effortlessly the more he abuses your cunt. “Tey-c-can’t..I can’t-“ you mumble breathlessly, making him hush your doubts by kissing and wiping your tears away. “Yes you can, babygirl. Need you to cum for me one more time, ok?” He coos as he presses into deeper as he leaves tender kisses and licks on your neck, making you whimper patheticly in his ear.

The second he sinks his fangs into you, you’re a mess. Crying as you cum on his cock with another Loud moan. “There you go, babygirl. Such a good girl for me-“ he rambles as he continues pounding into your cunt, using you to get himself off. You whine and squirm away from the overstimulation, but your hands stayed glued to his chest and your pussy practically sucks him in with no intention of letting go.

“Want you to cum inside me, teyam..” you tell him quietly, you weren’t sure if he heard it at first, but with the way his hips stuttered told you all that you needed to know. “Yeah? Want me to paint this pussy pretty with my cum?” He teased, placing his huge forearms on either side of your head, cashing you in. “Yes! Need it s’bad,” you weee babbling, but he didn’t care. Seeing you all cockdrunk is what sent him over the edge, filling your needy womb with his sticky, goopy cum. Kissing you deeply as he does.

Soft moans leave him as he fills you up, the noises making your pussy throb around him as he rides out his high. Once both of you calm down, he wraps your legs around his waist and carries you to the bathroom, placing you on the counter as he starts the bath.

“Thank you teyam” you say honestly

“Of course, what type of roommate and boyfriend would I be if I didn’t help you out?”

𝐀/𝐍~ 𝐢 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐄𝐄𝐄 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰!😌💕 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐛𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫🤞🏽.

𝐃𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐬🫶🏽,

𝐥𝐮𝐯𝐯𝟒𝐣𝟒𝐲𝐛𝐞𝟏𝟏

~

~

~

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭~ @jakesullyfatjuicypeen , @pandoraslxna , @destiel-1967-sammy , @neteyamsikran , @tragicrouge

(𝐥𝐦𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐫��𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞💕.)

[gas-writer]

Working After Hours...

I don't use Tumblr that much, and already posted this new story over on DeviantArt. But if you haven't already read it over there, maybe you'll like it here: A happier, more positive, and longer anesthesia story! Let's see if tumblr will do 9000 words in a single post...

I power down the last computer at the registration desk. The screen clicks off.

Friday nights at Riverside Surgical Center always end like this. Just me, alone in the building; wandering the halls, making sure everything is powered off, closed and packed up for the weekend. It's my favorite part of being the sole IT support specialist here. When everyone else rushes out, I get these perfect moments alone. With the equipment.

The hum of the building's air handling system becomes noticeable as I cross the deserted, silent lobby. My footsteps click against the polished vinyl flooring. I walk to the entrance, diligently checking that the automatic door is locked closed. It is. I’ll lock it again when I leave, but tonight I don’t want any unexpected visitors.

I turn and begin my rounds through the facility. The surgical center’s manager thinks I'm dedicated. In reality, I'm obsessed.

Medical technology has been my special interest since I was a teenager. While other kids collected posters of rock bands, I hoarded medical supply catalogs. By eighteen, I could name every component of an anesthesia machine and knew the admin passwords to a handful of patient monitors. The job here at Riverside isn't high-paying, but it gives me access to a playground of sophisticated equipment that nobody outside the medical profession would get to touch.

The pre-operative area is my first stop. Six curtained bays line the wall, each containing a stretcher with accompanying vital signs monitor. I walk slowly, making sure each monitor (a Phillips model I know well) is powered down. When in use, their screens show blood pressure, SPo2 and pulse rates. They’re seldom used with ECG leads in pre-op. I notice things like that. I’ve always been into the small details.

Regardless, they’re all dark now. The monitoring system's central station sits at the nurse's desk. They’ve already turned it off.

I walk into one of the bays, and push an IV pole out of my way. Mounted on the pole is an infusion pump, its digital display dark. I check the bay's cabinets, making sure the stock of IV catheters, saline flushes, and adhesive dressings are orderly. I don’t really have to do this; it’s a med tech’s job, but… I want to.

As I check the next one, I pocket a couple of alcohol prep pads. Then a few pairs of purple nitrile gloves from the wall dispenser. Nothing that would be missed. I've been collecting “supplies” for months this way. I tell myself I’m building my own personal medical kit for home, but I know I just like having this stuff.

The staff lounge is next. There’s not really anything in here that I need to power off; we’d all be in trouble if I shut the refrigerator down. Nothing seems out of place here. It was one of the nurse’s birthdays today, and there are cake crumbs on the table. I skipped the party, but I helpfully wipe them up. There’s a box of masks by the door, though, and I take one, adding it to my scrub pockets. My heart rate increases slightly at the thought of what I'm planning later, but for now, I just turn out the breakroom’s lights.

Moving on with my patrol, I enter the post-anesthesia room; the PACU. This is more or less a mirror of pre-op, but with closer monitoring. The ECG traces on the monitors get used here. Eight recovery bays face a central nurse's station where the staff can observe all of the waking patients at once. Like pre-op, I verify each is powered down, and catch one that the nurses missed.

I pass through the automatic double doors that separate the PACU from the main corridor. My pulse quickens as I approach my actual destination tonight: the surgical suites. Riverside has three operating rooms; more than average for the facility’s relatively small throughput. Each is specialized for different types of procedures.

OR 1 is the largest, equipped for general surgery. Its boom-mounted equipment arms hang suspended from the ceiling in standby mode. The room lights are off, and the surgical lights on articulating arms are stowed neatly against the ceiling. I stare through the door for a moment, then move on.

I walk to OR 2, which is set up primarily for orthopedic procedures. The C-arm x-ray unit is parked in the corner, draped with a protective cover. Riverside sees a lot of broken arms, ACLs that need repair, and the like, but I’ve never been that interested in medical carpentry. Everything looks alright here, so I move on again.

Finally, I reach OR 3. It’s the smallest of the three rooms, sometimes used for endoscopies, but also for gynecological and urological procedures. This one has always held a special fascination for me, for reasons I leave unexamined for now. The operating table here is equipped with integrated leg stirrups, really more like giant yellow boots, that can be positioned at various angles. The table itself is computerized with both foot pedals and a remote. It can be easily moved to nearly any position, which is why I’ve chosen it for tonight.

I hesitate at the doorway, my heart pounding. The room, like the others, is dark and still. My hand finds the light switch, and I flip it. The room lights and overhead surgical lights come on at once, uncomfortably bright. I let my eyes adjust for a moment, then I step inside and let the door swing shut behind me.

This is my plan. This is the reason I’m so helpful on Friday nights.

I move purposefully. The anesthesia workstations here are slightly older than I might find in an academic center, and frankly, that’s what I want. It still has physical knobs that I could twist, instead of a touchscreen. I approach it; running my fingers along its smooth surface. I think, just for a second, how embarrassed I’d be if someone saw me basically petting the machine. But I’m alone. That’s the point.

On the far side of the operating room is an entire wall of supplies. Opening a cabinet, I locate the components I need. A disposable breathing circuit, nicely packaged with a filter and a gas sampling line. A pair of rebreathing bags, and an adult-sized anesthesia mask. In another cabinet, I find a four-point head harness, designed to keep the mask securely in place during procedures. I lay these items out methodically on the anesthesia machine's work surface.

Next, from a different cabinet I retrieve a pulse oximeter sensor, and a blood pressure cuff. I return to the anesthesia workstation, and connect both to their respective ports on the machine. Even if I didn’t know where they went, the plugs are colored and fit only in the right place. It just takes a few seconds, despite my slightly trembling hands. I think about getting ECG pads; the machine is already setup for 5-lead, but I decide it’ll be too awkward to manage the wires.

I connect the breathing circuit to the outlet and inlets on the anesthesia machine, carefully attaching the corrugated tubing and the rebreathing bag. The mask will go at the end of the circuit, but for now, I just slightly inflate the plastic seal around the mask’s rim with a syringe, then I lay it down on top of the machine

I press the power button on the anesthesia machine, listening to the startup sequence of beeps and watching as the ventilator performs its self-test. When it’s done, I perform a machine check, following the same protocol the anesthesiologists use each morning. I verify that oxygen flows properly from the wall outlet through the machine's pipelines. The backup oxygen cylinder shows pressure on its gauge. The nitrous tank is open and full. I check the carbon dioxide absorbent canister; it's fresh, the granules still white instead of the purple that would indicate it’s all used up. This is good, because I’m not actually sure which cabinet would hold a replacement, and I don’t want to search.

It takes a few minutes, but the checks complete cleanly. The rebreathing bag inflates and deflates properly and everything holds pressure. I slip the mask onto the business-end of the anesthesia circuit, pressing it in place firmly.

This machine, I note, has two vaporizers on it, purple and yellow, iso and sevo. I don’t plan to use these, but I see that the liquid level indicator on the sevoflurane shows about a quarter full. I’m intrigued but volatiles are far too dangerous to mess around with.

With the electronic foot pedals, I adjust the operating table to its lowest height setting and position it at a slight incline, so I can sit comfortably on it. The table’s dual armboards easily fold down, out of the way completely. I’m relieved to see the stirrups are likewise folded down; I'll have no need for those tonight. When I’m done, the operating table resembles a very expensive, very black chaise lounge.

I wheel the anesthesia machine closer to the operating table, careful not to pull the gas supply hoses too far. With some effort, and a couple more change to the operating table’s pitch, I position it where I can just about reach the machine’s controls, while seated on the table.

I shimmy to the center of my operating-table-made-chair. I smooth out the sleeve of my left arm and wrap the blood pressure cuff around my own bicep. It’s awkward. I struggle with the Velcro, trying to get the cuff closed in the right place on my arm, and to tighten it appropriately. After a few attempts, though, I get it close enough. The pulse oximeter clip goes easily onto my right index finger, and rhythmic beeping starts to track my heartbeat. I reach to the anesthesia machine, and using my middle finger to put the button, start the cuff. Within seconds, the monitor displays my vital signs: heart rate 92, blood pressure 138/84, oxygen saturation 99%. My elevated heart rate and blood pressure doesn't surprise me. I've been fantasizing about this whole thing for months.

I reach out to the machine’s controls and set the oxygen flow rate to 6 liters per minute. The flow meter's ball rises in its chamber, indicating the gas is flowing as expected. The room fills with a quiet hiss.

I pick up the mask, and I feel a momentary hesitation. What I'm about to do crosses a line, from a special interest to something more dangerous and much more against the rules. But the temptation is too strong to resist. I've come this far, after all.

I bring the mask to my face, feeling the soft plastic seal against my skin. It's cool at first, but quickly warms against my face. I take a deep breath, smelling the significant plastic scent of the new breathing circuit and mask. The oxygen fills my lungs.

I pickup the black head harness, and, with a little more awkwardness, I secure the mask to my face, tightening the straps until it stays sealed tightly even when I’m not holding it.

My breathing sounds loud inside the mask. For a few moments, I watch the rebreathing bag inflate and deflate rhythmically with each breath I take. I watch my oxygen saturation maintain at 99% on the monitor. Everything is working perfectly. It’s time to take the next step.

I reach for oxygen flow knob again. This time, it twist down… and twist the nitrous oxide tap open. I know how the flowmeters work, and set the balls to a roughly 33% nitrous oxide flow. I take a deep, deliberate breath through the mask, and the effects begin almost immediately. A pleasant warmth spreads through my limbs. I hold the breath for a second, then deliberately take another very big breath. My fingertips tingle with a curious numbness. By the third breath, a buzzing sensation starts at the base of my skull, radiating upwards into my head. I’m surprised, and more than a little bit pleased, at how fast I’m feeling the nitrous. I've read about this feeling countless times in medical literature and online, but experiencing it firsthand is amazing; both the physical sensation and the forbidden nature of what I'm doing. I want more. I turn the oxygen down slightly again, and the nitrous up.

I lean back onto the operating table, letting my arms fall to my sides, and take in more of the gas as I relax.

The room maintains its sharp edges and clinical brightness, but my perception of it begins to shift. The surgical lights above me seem more intense, their glow extending just a bit beyond their actual boundaries. The rhythmic sound of the gas flowing through the circuit becomes hypnotic. My breathing is less intentional now, but even so, I’m still breathing slowly and deeply. The rebreathing bag inflates and deflates and I enjoy watching it for a couple of minutes. Inhale, exhale. Inflating, deflating.

I check the monitors with slightly unfocused eyes. My heart rate has decreased to 84 beats per minute; it’s still elevated from my normal resting rate but lower than before. My oxygen saturation remains good. The blood pressure reading cycles automatically every five minutes. The cuff tightens around my arm before letting go with a soft hiss: 125/76. The beep of my heartbeat has slowed.

I laugh, muffled by the mask. I watch the rebreathing bag some more.

The blood pressure cuff cycles again; time is stretching, I’ve floated here five minutes already, and dissociated without realizing it. There’s a clock on the OR wall, and I watch it for a minute. It moves simultaneously slowly and fast. I smile. I’m happy, and… I want more.

I decide to increase the concentration. My movements are deliberate, almost ceremonial, as I pull myself upright, then reach out to adjust the flowmeters. I’m already around 50%, and I want a bit more. I twist the nitrous upwards, nearly as high as it’ll go. I can tell the difference almost immediately.

The buzzing in my head intensifies, becoming a gentle vibration that extends through my entire body. The boundaries between myself and the room begin to blur. The operating table beneath me seems to become softer, much softer, as if I might sink through it if I relaxed completely. I don't, though; I still have the presence of mind to lower myself back onto the table gently, instead of falling off.

I let myself drift again. I think about the nurses and surgeons who work in this room, wielding their instruments, controlling life and consciousness with practiced hands. Now I'm doing the same, in a way. This thought seems somehow hilarious and profound. I don’t start laughing but I’m pretty close. Before I know it, the blood pressure cuff is cycling again.

I raise my hands in front of my face, fascinated by how distant and blurry they seem. I wiggle my fingers, watching the movement with detached curiosity. There's a delay between my intention and the action, as if I'm connected to a video game on a bad internet connection. I slide my palm along the cool surface of the operating table, the sensation of touch seems simultaneously intensified and muted.

A new thought surfaces through the haze of nitrous oxide: what would sevoflurane feel like? I know that nitrous, at normal pressure, can’t actually knock anyone out. But sevo, at even at moderate concentrations, induces unconsciousness within minutes. I don’t want that. Even while intoxicated, I clearly understand the consequences of gassing myself to far. But my understanding of MAC is that at lower concentrations, like, say, 1% or 2%, people my age will generally remain awake. At least for a little while.

I could try it. Just a little.

I know it’s dangerous, but the idea is irresistible.

I sit up again, and reach for the anesthesia machine, my movements a lot less coordinated now, through the nitrous fog. First, I turn down the nitrous oxide flow to zero, allowing pure oxygen to clear my system for a moment. I take several deep breaths, feeling some of the fuzziness recede. My thoughts sharpen enough for me to recognize the recklessness of what I'm about to do, but not enough to stop me.

I turn the yellow vaporizer dial just a bit, turning it to 1%, then to 2%. Enough to taste it, to feel its initial effects for real. I’m not feeling tentative now, like I was with the nitrous, even though I know I’ll need to quickly turn it off. I breath all the way out, and the sevo begins to flow.

The first breath is still mostly oxygen, and I let myself settle back onto the table. When I take the second breath, though, a distinctly sweet smell fills the mask. It smells chemical, like a harsh cleanser, but… not unpleasant. I don’t feel anything. I take another careful breath, then another. Only then, does the effect hit me.

A heavy warmth spreads through my body, like someone’s thrown a weighted blanket over me. Another breath, and I start to feel distinctly tired. The nitrous made me feel fuzzy primarily, this is making me feel drowsy.

I try to breath normally, and the edges of my vision begin to blur, the periphery darkening slightly. It’s as if a camera’s vignette effect has been applied to my eyesight. The beeping heartbeat sound in the room seems to recede, becoming muffled and distant. It’s much more intense than the nitrous, and much more intense than I expected. I understand, in a moment, how stupid I’ve been. I need to turn the gas back off.

I sit up, trying to reach the machine, and it feels like I’m moving through syrup. My intention to move my hand doesn’t match my muscles exactly; the same effect as the Nitrous but more severe. The machine seems farther away than it was a moment ago. I reach for the vaporizer dial, and my own hand seems disconnected, as if it’s not mine.

Before I can reach the dial, another hand appears in my peripheral vision. A hand that is, for sure, not mine.

I try to turn my head, movements sluggish, brain struggling to process this unexpected development. A figure in blue appears, standing beside me, and grabs my wrist, pulling it back from the vaporizer.

"What have we here?" a female voice says. "Someone's been playing with toys they shouldn't touch." The words have a British accent, and seem to echo strangely in my ears.

I start to speak, but the mask is still harnessed to my face. I try to reach up to remove it, but the woman grabs my other wrist, too.

In the harsh surgical lighting, I see it’s a woman in blue scrubs, a surgical cap covering reddish hair, bright eyes above a white surgical mask. It's a nurse, but in my disoriented state, I can't immediately identify which one. Panic cuts through the chemical haze. I wasn't supposed to be discovered. No one should be here. The staff all left. I made sure of it.

I’m not sure what to do. I try to stand, to pull away, but my reactions are dulled by the anesthetics already in my system. The sevoflurane continues to flow; I still haven't turned it off, and each rapid, frightened breath draws more of the agent into my bloodstream.

"Turn it off," I manage to say, my voice muffled by the mask. "Let go of me!"

"I don't think so," the nurse replies. I feel myself being pushed backwards, down onto the diagonal operating table. "You've set everything up so nicely. It would be a shame to stop now."

I'm larger than her, stronger under normal circumstances, but the sevoflurane has substantially undermined my coordination. She pushes me down easily. But I’m not done yet; I turn sharply, trying to break her grip, and succeed in pulling one arm free. I reach for the mask, intending to tear it away, but she’s fast, or I’m slow. She blocks my hand, catching my wrist again.

"Oh no, you don't," she says, her voice hard. "Keep that mask on."

Fear spikes through me. Each breath is drawing more sevo into my system. I thrash, but the head harness keeps the mask firmly in place despite my movements, and the continuing supply of anesthetic makes my fight increasingly clumsy.

The nurse adjusts her grip, pinning one of my arms under her body, while reaching for something on the anesthesia machine I’ve placed so conveniently close by. To my horror, I see her turn the sevoflurane vaporizer not down, but up. I can’t see where she’s set it, but I know anywhere above 3% will rapidly render me unconscious.

"No!" I shout this time, the word completely intelligible even through the mask. I buck upward, pressing my legs against the table, trying to get up. For a moment, I think I might break free. The pulse oximeter rips free from my finger, setting off a high-pitched alarm from the monitor.

I’m able to slide my right arm free of the tangle of limbs, and I grasp at the mask, fingers scrabbling at the head harness, but they just… won’t… get it… My fingers don’t work right.

The nurse recovers quickly, catching my free wrist a third time, and forcing it down. She swings one leg over me, straddling my chest and fully jumping on the table. Before I know it, she’s on top of me. She’s using her weight to pin me down. Her face is close to mine now. It’s aggressively intimate, her blue eyes intense above her mask.

"Don't struggle, love" she says, her voice simultaneously soothing and menacing. "You'll only make it worse for yourself."

With her full weight on top of me, my movements grow increasingly fruitless. Even if she wasn’t on top of me, the feeling of heaviness, the feeling that started after my first few breaths, is much stronger now. Each time I try to push her off, the physical exertion forces me to breathe harder, deeper, pulling more sevoflurane into my system. I realize that the more I fight, the faster the anesthetic is taking hold.

My vision begins to waver, the straight lines of the room twisting and bending. The nurse's face above me seems to split and rejoin, her mask and eyes turning blurry and confusing. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my head, but my eyelids are harder and harder to open each time I do. It doesn’t help at all.

"You're quite strong," she comments, sounding slightly out of breath, but in control. "But the sevo is stronger, love. Always wins in the end."

My strength is failing rapidly now. My arms feel impossibly heavy, as if I’ve been tied down with giant elastic bands. I still struggle, but my movements are feeble, uncoordinated. I’m losing.

The room begins to spin in slow, nauseating circles. The lights overhead multiply, separating into a rainbow of colors. My hearing seems more affected now too: the nurse's voice echoes strangely, as if coming from multiple directions at once. The alarm from the disconnected sensor sounds distant, as if I’m underwater.

I'm aware of my breathing becoming slower, deeper.

"That's right," the nurse says, her voice drifting to me through layers of distortion. "Stop fighting now. You're doing so well."

I watch the nurse as she climbs off of me, but somehow, her weight seems to stay. She maintains her grip on my wrists for another few seconds, but my arms have gone limp. She releases them cautiously, maybe prepared to restrain me again if I’m faking it, but I am very much not faking it.

I can barely lift them now. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy. I force them open only with tremendous effort, trying to focus on her face, but my vision is degraded, or my brain won’t control my eyes. I can’t tell which. I try to think of something to say, but I can’t.

"Good," she says, her tone shifting to something almost… sexual. "You're submitting beautifully now."

I hear the sound of electric motors as she repositions the table, I feel myself tipping backwards. She’s straightening my legs, raising the table, returning it to a flat configuration. She gently places my arms at my sides. I want to resist but can only manage the weakest of movements.

The nurse moves to the anesthesia machine, adjusting something I can't quite see. The sevoflurane concentration, I realize distantly. She's increasing it again. The time I breath, the gas rushes in forcefully, making me breath fully and deeply. She’s squeezing the rebreathing bag.

"Just close your eyes and drift off now," she orders, her voice seeming to come from very far away. "It’s dreamland for you."

My eyelids flutter. No amount of effort can keep them open. I realize with a distant sort of horror that I'm about to lose consciousness. I make one final, feeble attempt to sit up, to roll off the table, but my muscles refuse to cooperate.

A strange feeling of peace begins to replace my fear. The inevitability of going under becomes almost comforting. I can no longer remember why I was fighting so hard against this feeling. I’m so incredibly tired and I just want to sleep. With each breath into the mask, it gets stronger.

"Perfect," she murmurs, watching as my resistance fades completely. "That's exactly right. Let it happen." I hear her, but I don’t understand.

I can’t see the nurses’s face anymore, as spinning blackness rushes in from the edges of my vision. Yet somehow, I know she's smiling as she watches me fall down to oblivion. The world clicks off.

I drift up through darkness. Consciousness returns in fragments as my brain boots up.

First comes the sensation of touch: cool air on bare skin, pressure around my wrists, on my back, on my thighs and ankles. A moment later, my sense of position; proprioception. I’m on my back, my arms splayed outwards, my legs in a strange position.

I try to rub my eyes, but the pressure on my wrists keeps them from moving.

It takes several seconds, maybe a whole minute, to process what just those two senses are reporting, what all that means. I'm lying on my back, restrained somehow.

Next, I hear a steady beeping. It’s increasing in speed as I wake up. No memories yet, but the sound seems familiar.

My eyes are closed. Only with some effort am I able to force them open. As soon as I do, I blink against harsh, circular lights overhead. Surgical lights. The operating room comes into fuzzy focus, and with it, my fragmented memories.

I'm completely naked, immobilized, and splayed open on the operating table. I remember being caught, overpowered.

My mouth feels incredibly dry. I try to swallow but barely produce enough saliva. My whole body feels sore, like I’ve just run a marathon or fought a wrestling match, which, in a way I did.

I try to move my arms again, turning to look at my wrists restrained to the table’s perpendicular armboards. I’ve seen Velcro positioning straps used here before, the kind intended for patients at risk of pulling out IVs or simply moving too much while anesthetized for surgery. The restraints here are not those, but padded leather cuffs that more resemble something from a 1950s insane asylum. I don’t know where they came from, but I’m not sliding out of them any time soon.

I lift my head slightly, fighting against residual dizziness, and look down the length of my body. As I feared, I’m completely naked; my clothes and underwear both gone. ECG electrodes have been placed on my naked chest. That’s not good.

Much worse, my legs are elevated and separated, positioned in the yellow leg-lifting stirrups that hold my feet and ankles. I'm in the lithotomy position; as if someone’s positioned me for a gynecology, urological, or rectal procedure. I try to pull my feet down, but unsurprisingly, the yellow boots and straps are tight and strong enough that it’s useless. A strangled noise escapes my throat as I realize how completely vulnerable I am. My heart beats faster and I hear the heartbeat monitor on the anesthesia machine match it. I try to stay calm and finish examining my situation. I’m not going to find a way out by panicking.

I don’t see any people around, thankfully. But it’s obvious the room has been transformed since I lost consciousness. The anesthesia machine has been pushed back to its usual position above my head. I can stretch to see it; its displays glowing with data, my heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and now ECG and respiratory traces.

My eyes dart around the room, taking in details that send fresh waves of adrenaline through my system. Surgical instruments have been arranged on a Mayo stand beside the table; gleaming metal specula, retractors, forceps, and scissors. An electrocautery unit sits ready, its grounding pad visible but not yet attached to my body. A black endoscope is coiled on a blue-draped table nearby that I’m sure wasn’t there before. Everything is positioned as I’ve seen it used during the work week, all as if in preparation for an actual procedure. Or more than one procedure.

I remember the clock on the OR wall. It reads 6:17 PM. I try to remember when I started my self-administered anesthesia experiment; the surgical center closed at 4, so it couldn’t have been long after 5:00. More than an hour has passed that I can't account for. An hour during which someone, the nurse who caught me, has prepared this nightmarish scenario.

The door to the operating room swings open, and she enters, as if summoned by my thoughts. Now that I can think clearly, I know who this is. It's Nurse Evelyn, the British transplant who joined the surgical center staff six months ago. I suddenly recall it was her birthday cake crumbs I cleaned up an hour or so ago.

She’s fully attired for the OR now, a disposable yellow isolation gown tied over her scrubs, her hair tucked completely under a bouffant cap. No hint visible of her red locks anymore. Her hands are white latex.

Her bright blue eyes above her mask crinkle at the corners, suggesting the smile I can't see.

"Ah, you're awake," she says, her accent pronounced as she approaches the table. "Welcome back to the land of the living. How are we feeling, then?"

"What the hell is this?" I croak, my voice hoarse. "Let me go right now!"

Nurse Evelyn tilts her head, studying me with amusement. "That's not a very diplomatic way to address the person who caught you abusing clinic equipment, is it? You're in quite a sticky wicket. Imagine what administration would think if they knew you were playing doctor after hours."

She moves to the anesthesia machine, checking the displays as if we’re in a normal, professional situation. "Your vitals are stable. No worse for wear, I think. How’s the nausea?" I have no nausea, thankfully, but I don’t answer.

"Why am I restrained? Why am I…" I can't even say it, the vulnerability of my naked, exposed position.

Nurse Evelyn laughs, the sound light and warm despite the circumstances. "Why are you strapped down and undressed? Self-preservation, love. Couldn't have you waking up and bolting before we had our little chat."

"As for the stirrups, well, I needed to conduct a thorough examination while you were under. Very thorough. I had to make sure you were healthy enough for what I have planned, you understand."

Heat floods my face as the implication sinks in. I think she’s joking, but I have no way to really know. "You had no right…"

"Rights?" she interrupts, stepping closer to the table. "Let's discuss rights, shall we? Did you have the right to use the anesthesia machine on a lark? To use controlled substances for your personal entertainment?" She leans over me, her eyes intense above her mask. "No, you didn't. But I understand why you did it. We're not so different, you and I."

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite my racing heart. The beep of the heart monitor betrays me.

"I saw how you set everything up. The care you took with the preperation. The way you monitored yourself." She runs a gloved finger along my forearm, a strangely gentle and intimate gesture. "I think you’ve been planning this a long time. And I also think you weren't just curious about the physical sensation. You wanted to experience the vulnerability, the surrender of control. The submission."

Her assessment hits uncomfortably close to the truth. I don’t know what to say to her. She’s not exactly right, but it’s frighteningly close. There’s for sure some connection between the equipment I’m especially interested in and intense power dynamics; anesthesia has, along with it, the requirement to complete surrender to another's care. I, of course, don’t voice this, but my silence speaks volumes.

"While you seem to enjoy being the patient," she continues, "I prefer the other role. The one who decides what needs to happen. When consciousness begins and ends. The one who holds complete power over another human being." Her eyes glitter. "Quite the perfect match, wouldn't you say?"

"You're crazy," I whisper, though I think I don’t really mean it. I think she can tell that I actually do understand. I feel something inside me; not just fear, but a flicker of dark excitement I don't want to acknowledge.

"Crazy? No. Unconventional, perhaps." Evelyn moves to the foot of the table, between my spread legs, and I feel a fresh wave of vulnerability. "Here's what's going to happen. It's Friday night. No one's due back until Monday morning. You and I are going to this entire weekend exploring our mutual interests. I’ll send you under in various ways; different medicines, different combinations. I was an anesthesia nurse in England, you know. I'll take care of you quite professionally, of course."

"You can't just keep me here," I protest, though my voice lacks conviction. "People will look for me."

She raises an eyebrow. "Will they? The solitary IT worker who avoids social interaction and lives alone? Will anyone call on you?” I don’t answer, and again my silence speaks. “No. You're not due anywhere until Monday morning. Same as me."

I struggle against the restraints, panic rising again. "This is kidnapping!" I protest. It’s not halfhearted; I’m genuinely scared, even if that’s not the only emotion anymore.

"It’s hardly kidnapping," she counters smoothly. "You mostly did this to yourself. I just… helped you a bit.”

What you should realize now, love,” she continues. “Is that I could easily report what I caught you doing. That's career-ending at minimum, maybe even criminal charges." She leans over me, staring into my eyes. "Or, we could have a mutually beneficial weekend. You get to explore your fascination with anesthesia in ways you never could alone. I get to practice my skills and indulge my own… interests."

Her gloved hand rests on my thigh, the touch clearly intended to be suggestive, intimate. "Do we understand each other?"

I stare up at the surgical lights, my thoughts racing. The situation is surreal, terrifying, and yet… I can't deny the dark thread of excitement growing under my fear. Part of me has always wondered what it would be like to fully surrender to anesthesia in the hands of someone who knows what they're doing. To let go completely.

Something in her tone, in the absurd situation itself, makes a hysterical laugh bubble up from my chest. "This is insane."

"Perhaps," she agrees, "but I think it's exactly what you wanted. Just not how you expected to get it."

"What exactly are you planning to do to me?" I ask, my voice steadier now.

"I’m going to put you to sleep again," Evelyn tells me. "I’ll try different induction techniques. A sevo mask induction, as you've already experienced. We’ll try the isoflurane, too, I think. A standard propofol induction. Certainly ketamine in some combination. Perhaps etomidate, if I decide you’ll risk the side effects" Her voice takes on a dreamy quality. "I’m told each one feels different going under."

I swallow. “You can’t just anesthetize me over and over,” I object, but I don’t think I’m convincing.

She doesn’t seem convinced. “It’s definitely not recommended. But neither is the scheme I caught you playing out, is it? There are some risks, but you’ve already been taking some of those, haven’t you? I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”

I swallow hard, looking down at my spread legs. "And the position I'm in now? The surgical tools?"

"I think it's better if I don't explain everything I have planned," she says, voice dropping to a near whisper. "Fear of the unknown heightens the experience, doesn't it? You’re vulnerable. Exposed. At my mercy." Her eyes crinkle as the heartbeat tone speeds up. "All I’m going tell you is that you won’t feel a thing."

Nurse Evelyn leans closer. "If you cooperate, though, this could be quite pleasant for you too. Some patients report euphoria, lovely dreams. You may even find the experience… arousing." Her tone drops on the last word, sending an involuntary shiver through me.

I close my eyes, weighing my options. While she’s implied I have a choice, I suspect there really is none. She has me literally and figuratively tied down. Fighting seems pointless; she controls the drugs, the restraints, everything. But I’m not ready to trust her, even with the desire she’s ignited below my fear.

“Please, just let me go,” I protest again. But I’m not sure if I really mean it.

"I don't think you mean that, love" Evelyn reads my thoughts, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. She moves to stand beside me, her white gloved fingertip tracing a line from my collarbone down my naked chest, all the way to my waist. "I think you're just scared to admit it."

The latex of her glove feels cool against my skin. I shiver again, and my breath catches involuntarily. Evelyn leans in close. I can feel her warm breath through the mask she’s wearing. She whispers in my ear.

"You enjoyed it, didn't you? When I caught you… when I held you down… when I made you breathe in the gas until you couldn't fight anymore."

My pulse quickens, betraying me on the monitor with an accelerating beep. My memories replay as she describes them; her weight on my chest, my useless struggle, the sweet smelling gas filling my lungs against my will. I realize, to my horror, that I’m getting noticeably aroused thinking about it.

"I saw your eyes before they closed," she continues, voice silky and intimate. "That moment when fear gave way to something else. When you realized you couldn't stop it happening. You want that feeling again, don’t you?" I don’t answer. My mind races. I can’t help but feel she’s right. But I think about all the surgical tools laid out. And I don’t trust that I have a real choice here.

"You're going to put me under again no matter what I say, aren't you?" I finally ask.

"Clever," she says approvingly. "You'll be spending quite a bit of time off with the fairies this weekend. But how pleasant that time is, and how pleasant the time in between is, depends entirely on your attitude."

She moves to the head of the table, starting up the fresh gas flows. "Shall we begin? Don’t answer. You’re right, you don’t have much of a choice. A little nitrous again to start, I think."

Despite everything, I feel my resistance beginning to crumble. The fear remains, but alongside it grows a perverse curiosity. What would it be like to experience all those different anesthetics, administered by someone who knows exactly what they're doing? I think I’m going to find out.

She lowers the mask towards my face, holding my chin only lightly with her gloved hand. I move my head to the side, trying to avoid the mask. It's a futile gesture, but some part of my brain, maybe the majority, still rejects the idea of submitting so. The mask follows my movement, and her grip on my chin tightens.

"Let’s have no foolishness," Evelyn scolds, her tone sharpening.

She presses the mask firmly against my face, creating a tight seal. "Deep breaths now. Be sensible."

Against my better judgment, I feel myself relaxing slightly. The fact that it’s all being decided for me is strangely reassuring, even as the situation remains profoundly frightening. I do as instructed, and begin to breath, deeply.

She turns the nitrous oxide flowmeter, and I hear the gas begin to hiss through the circuit. "Just breathe normally. Fifty percent to start, I think. You'll feel it soon enough."

I inhale obediently. I can’t really smell it, but within moments, the familiar warm tingling begins in my extremities, slowly spreading inward. The steady beeping from the pulse monitor starts to slow.

"There you go," Nurse Evelyn says, her tone suddenly soothing instead of sharp. "Just like that. Nice deep breaths."

The nitrous works quickly, creating the same vibrating sensation I experienced earlier. The fear fades, replaced by a slight detachment that makes my situation seem less threatening, more surreal. The restraints around my wrists and ankles no longer feel quite as imprisoning. I forget about my nakedness after a few more breaths. My head starts to feel fuzzy, as if cotton is being stuffed into my brain.

"Good?" she asks, watching my face closely. I nod, unable to deny the pleasant sensations washing through me. I try to organize my thoughts. The gas already makes it difficult to think critically, but the fear and desire still war within me. Evelyn watches me with those intense blue eyes, monitoring my response to the nitrous oxide. She seems to know exactly what she's doing with the anesthesia equipment. Professional. Controlled.

Can I trust her? She's holding me captive, but there's something oddly reassuring about her dominance. She’s confident, and she clearly knows what she's doing. But she's also clearly unhinged, willing to cross professional and ethical boundaries without hesitation.

Just like I am.

I really did want this, in some way.

"Alright," I say finally, my voice muffled by the mask. "I'll cooperate."

Her eyes light up with genuine pleasure. "Brilliant! I knew you'd come around. We're going to have such fun together. I think we have a bit more to do tonight, but it’ll be over before you know it.”

I wonder exactly what she means, and exactly what she’s planning for me, but I don’t have time to ask.

"Now we'll add the sevoflurane. One percent to start." She adjusts the vaporizer dial. "This will be just like before, only now I’m in control the whole time."

The distinctive odor of sevoflurane mingles with the nitrous oxide. My eyelids grow heavy again, the room's edges softening. Nurse Evelyn secures the mask with the harness, which I hadn’t realized was already behind my head.

“Now, love, with both sevo and nitrous, you’ll go off quickly,” she explains. I know there’s a phenomenon where having both nitrous and a volatile on at once increases the effects, but I can’t remember if 1% is already enough to anesthetize me.

I’m starting to feel more drowsy. Like before, the nitrous made me detached, but the sevo is making me want to sleep. I force my eyes wide open, trying to stay awake as long as I can.

“Up to three percent,” Evelyn’s voice seems distant and echos in my ears. I know that’s enough to put me out. The visual hallucinations begin immediately. The vignette effect from before returns, my vision narrowing. The lights begin to wash out, strange colors begin to fade in. When Evelyn leans over me, her white mask seems to glow. The yellow color from her isolation gown seems to stretch out around the room.

"Time for dreamland again. Why don’t you count backward from one hundred?" she instructs, increasing the sevoflurane concentration. I can’t see how far, but the smell increases significantly.

"One hundred… ninety nine…ninety eight…" My voice sounds distant to my own ears, the words slurring together. I look up at her and her face seems to distort. The room begins to spin. The yellow of her gown changes into a confusing medical rainbow, yellow, blue, white, green, along with nameless colors that don’t exist in normal reality.

Nurse Evelyn's gloved hand rests gently on my forehead, a gesture that might be comforting under different circumstances. "You’re doing brilliantly. Keep going."

I’m supposed to be counting.

"Ninety seven… ninety six… ninety five…" The numbers come with increasing difficulty. I already can’t remember what number I was on. Have I made a mistake? My tongue feeling thick and uncooperative in my mouth. The ceiling above me seems to spin faster, expanding and contracting with my breathing.

"Nine…" I manage, though I can’t hear myself. I'm no longer sure if I'm speaking aloud or just thinking the numbers. What was I counting?

"Almost there," she encourages, her British accent barely penetrating my mental haze. "Just slip off again."

The room begins to spin faster, Nurse Evelyn's face above me, already blurred and stretched, begins multiplying and rejoining like a kaleidoscope image. I try to raise my hands, to pull the mask off. One last moment of confusion. Of course, the restraints don’t let me move at all. I’ve been helpless this whole time.

"Perfect," she murmurs down at me. My eyes close of their own accord. My body relaxes. The spinning, the drowsiness, the sense of weight over my body is all too much to fight.

Consciousness fades even faster now. Darkness takes me again. My brain turns off.

My head throbs. I realize I’m awake. I don’t remember going to sleep. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel impossibly heavy. It occurs to me that maybe they've been taped shut, but I don’t know why that thought comes to me. A mechanical beeping lines up with the throbbing in my head. Rhythmic. Familiar. A patient monitor? I shift and it feels like I’m in a bed. Somehow, I think I'm in a hospital bed. My mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton, my tongue thick and clumsy. I try to swallow, but produce barely enough saliva and my throat is sore. The details of how I got here elude me, for the time being.

It takes a minute, but I finally manage to force my eyes open, only to immediately squint; above me are harsh, fluorescent lights. White, institutional ceiling tiles come into focus. They also seem familiar.

With effort, I raise my right hand to rub my eyes, and feel a tug. Looking up, I see an IV catheter secured to the back of my hand with section of transparent tape. A line of clear IV tubing snakes up to a half-empty bag of fluid hanging from an IV pole nearby. The movement causes my hospital gown to shift against my skin, and I discover I’m wearing a hospital gown.

I’m disoriented but my memories begin to fall into order. I remember my plan for the night. Going to the operating room. I remember my interrupted experiment. Evelyn catching me. Her weight on my chest as she held me down, forcing me to breathe in the anesthetics. I think of the restraints. I remember her making me go under a second time. I think I remember something else, something after that, but it’s too blurry to piece together. In any case, I remember enough.

I bolt upright, but like opening my eyes, I instantly regret it. The sudden movement makes the room spin and my headache momentarily gets worse. I grab at the IV site, about to simply pull it out, when a voice stops me.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

I hadn’t noticed until now, but Nurse Evelyn is quietly standing at the foot of my bed, arms crossed. Her mask is gone and her red hair is down now, freed from the surgical cap, falling in waves around her shoulders. She's changed into fresh scrubs, feminine, pink, instead of the light blue from before.

Her blue eyes evaluate me.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, her British accent pronounced in the quiet room. She steps closer, and taps a few buttons on the patient monitor, silencing the rhythmic beeping. She turns, and reaches for my wrist to take my pulse manually. I don’t think to pull away, my brain is still booting up. Her fingers are cool against my skin, and strangely intimate.

"Headache," I manage to croak. "Tired. Thirsty." My voice sounds like a dry croak; my throat is rough. "What time is it?"

"Just before 9," she answers, releasing my wrist. "Post-anesthetic headache is not unusual. The volatile agents can do that, even sevoflurane. It'll pass."

I look around, taking in my surroundings more fully now. I am in a hospital bed, or more accurately, I'm in the Post Anesthesia Care Unit. Eight recovery bays, mine right next to the doors. The other beds are still empty, their monitors dark, including the one I’d turned off when I’d checked it just a few hours ago.

I glance down at my body, suddenly aware of how little I know about what happened while I was unconscious. Quite a lot of my body is vaguely sore, maybe from exertion, but maybe from something Evelyn did after I was anesthetized. I try to recall what time Evelyn told me, a what the time on the OR clock had been, and I think it’s been more than an hour. That’s time to do quite a few things. My throat hurts, so I’ve probably been intubated. The memories are missing, but I know, deep down, she’s done something.

I pull at the thin hospital gown, searching for any signs of surgical intervention.

"What did you do to me while I was out?" I ask, my voice carrying an edge of fear as I examine my lower body, looking for incisions, stitches, anything out of place. "Did you… operate on me?"

Evelyn watches my frantic self-examination with amusement in her eyes. She tilts her head slightly, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. She lets me search for a minute; I can tell she’s enjoying it.

"You won’t find anything amiss this time, love. Nothing that left a mark or that’d put you out, really." She steps closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I suppose I did start the world’s most painless IV. But I might do more next time. Wouldn't that be interesting?"

I try to not to react to how close she is, or her comment. I think I shiver slightly. Maybe in fear, but maybe very much not. I look into her eyes, and for moment, there’s only the sound of the patient monitor taking my blood pressure again.

"I'm not restrained," I observe, quietly. After being tied down in the OR, the freedom feels strange, almost suspicious.

Evelyn smiles widely now; since she’s not wearing a mask anymore, the expression is fully visible. "Do you need to be? You're hardly in any condition to cause trouble. Besides, you agreed to cooperate, remember?"

I nod slowly, though I’m still somewhat conflicted. Did I agree? I recall the moment of surrender, the choice made. It was surely made under duress, but was also driven by something deeper, my special interest, and the connection to Evelyn that I’m not quite ready to admit.

"There's water if you need it," she says, gesturing to a plastic cup with a bendy straw on the bedside table, stepping back. "But nothing to eat, and nothing to drink after midnight. You're scheduled to go back to the OR first thing in the morning."

My stomach tightens at her words. "Back to the OR? For what?"

"For whatever I decide," she replies simply. "We have a full weekend ahead of us, remember? Different induction techniques to try. And once you’re asleep, whatever I want." Her tone is light, conversational, as if discussing plans for a casual outing rather than forced unconsciousness and potentially surgery.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the movement causing the IV tubing to pull slightly. The floor feels cold beneath my bare feet. This is my chance. I could rip out the IV. I could leave now. Evelyn is alone, I'm not restrained, and despite my headache and lingering soreness, I’m confident I could overpower her now that she’s not holding an anesthesia mask. Or I could just run. I could run out the door. I could tell someone what she’s done. Or I could try to keep it all a secret.

But I hesitate. I don’t do any of that. Not yet.

Evelyn watches me, head tilted slightly, a knowing expression on her face. She's not moving to stop me. She's not threatening me. She's simply waiting, as if she already knows what I'll decide.

"Get some natural rest," she says finally, turning toward the door. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

And just like that, she walks away, her footsteps fading as she crosses the PACU. At the doorway, she pauses to turn out the main lights, leaving only the dim glow of the single patient monitor and the emergency exit signs. Then she's gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

I sit there on the edge of the bed. She left me alone. Unrestrained. With a clear path to escape. I think through it all again. I could pull out the IV, find my clothes, and be gone before she returns. I could report her, or I could simply say nothing. She’s surely cleaned up all the evidence already. I could just leave.

Instead, I find myself thinking about what she said earlier in the OR. About how we’re similar. My fascination with experiencing anesthesia, her desire to administer it. Two pieces of a disturbing puzzle that somehow fit together perfectly.

I groan. My body is sore, and my head pounds. I'm exhausted from fighting and from the drugs still circulating in my system. My thoughts aren't entirely clear. At least, that's what I tell myself as I swing my legs back onto the bed and lie down again.

I'm just too tired to make any decisions tonight. I'll think more clearly in the morning. Then I'll decide then what to do. In the morning.

I roll onto my side, adjusting the thin PACU pillow under my head. Despite everything, despite the danger and the fear and whatever else I’m feeling from my complex new connection, I feel myself drifting back toward sleep. And somewhere beneath the exhaustion and confusion, a small part of me knows that by putting the choice off, I’m making the choice.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

I close my eyes and shut down again, back to dreamland.

[jymwahuwu]

-cw: yandere, non-con, forced overstimulation, harassment, breaking into your home

The actual record of dating General Jing Yuan:

(everything below is automatically recorded by the system set up by the general)

4:00 am Jing Yuan pointed out that you will have a date today.

4:00 am You are woken up by the sound of a message.

4:01 am You frowned, checked the message, and replied "wtf it's bedtime".

4:05 am You fell asleep again.

9:45 am Had breakfast.

10:00 am The electronic door lock automatically opened. Jing Yuan stepped in with a "^_^" expression.

10:01 am You: “Can you stop breaking into my house all the time?”

10:02 am Showed you that message. You are speechless.

11:00 am The romantic date begins!!

11:15 am Visited the Space Animal Sanctuary and watched the adorable and special animals together.

11:20 am the baby bird trembled and walked towards Jing Yuan and pecked the back of his hand with its beak. You think nothing can be cuter than this.

11:45 am you curiously fed the sheep that could predict the future destiny of life. This animal looks like a sheep.

11:46 am A 💭 floated out of the sheep’s head:

Love Trend: Dating the one who likes you will guarantee your eternal relationship.

11:47 am You are shocked. Jing Yuan chuckled and stroked the sheep's head.

12:15 pm Jing Yuan purchased two commemorative keychains. He said the two keychains commemorated the romantic date.

12:16 pm Jing Yuan attached one of the keychains to your backpack/bag, etc.

13:00 pm Had a romantic date in a restaurant with a view of the Milky Way.

14:02 pm Jing Yuan offered to go home and fuck you, using an affectionate tone. Your fingers holding the door were pried open one by one, and you were pulled onto the spaceship.

15:12 pm Back to your apartment!! Jing Yuan kissed you and put you on his arm with one hand, burning off the calories from the meal just now.

15:20 pm You were forced to spread your legs on the sofa, and Jing Yuan buried his head between your legs, or twitched with his fingers, and occasionally said something embarrassing to you. You pushed his hair.

16:05 pm You can’t remember how many times you’ve had an orgasm. Consciousness began to drift away.

17:00 pm Lubricate the cock head with the petals, teasing you on the outside for five minutes before hitting bottom. "Ah…!! ❤"

18:15 pm You start to think about why Jing Yuan’s staying power is so terrible. Is this the secret of long-life species?

19:00 pm You're lying on the bed, panting, tongue sticking out. The fertile semen inside flowed out like a quiet stream.

19:01 pm Jing Yuan resisted the urge to lift your legs and thrust into you again. Look at your lovely face.

19:04 pm Conclusion: Your cuteness transcends the laws of the world.

19:10 pm Kissed you on the cheek, put one of his hands on your breasts, and hugged you to sleep naked.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Starting at the End Ch. 2

Summary: Lily Crawford has been receiving disturbing letters from a worrisome fan. On the advice of an acquaintance she goes to Winchester Private Security and seeks out Dean Winchester to keep her safe. Will this troubled ex-marine be able to save her, and can she save him too?

Series Warnings: Angst. Smut. Fluff. (as usual, of course!) Discussion of war, loss, trauma, PTSD, grief. Stalking. Obsession.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Talk of stalking.

Pairing: Dean x ofc (Lily Crawford)

Word Count: 2,137

A/N: This is my Dean "Bodyguard" AU. (Technically he calls himself Private Security and not a Bodyguard, but 🤷‍♀️) I've never written a bodyguard AU before, so I hope you all enjoy this one. It's been a while since I've written an ofc, so I hope you like Lily. I'm enjoying writing her. I know OC's aren't the fandoms favourite, but I really felt like I needed Lily to be Lily in this one. Hope you give it a chance anyway. ❤️

In this chapter a painting is discussed in detail, I thought it might help you to see it, so you can find it here.

POSTING EVERY FRIDAY! ❤️

Series Master List || Dean Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

They arrived at Lily's house almost an hour later because traffic was so terrible leaving the city. Dean had followed behind her in his big, old, classic car. It was sleek and black and pretty. It also dwarfed her little Chevy hatchback as he pulled into her driveway behind her. 

When she got out, she looked back to see Dean slam the heavy door with a creak. He wasn't looking at her. Instead, his head seemed to be on a swivel, scanning up and down her street and then over her front yard. 

“Come on in.” She said, waving him forward and up onto her porch. But he still wasn't looking at her. His eyes seemed to be focused on every inch of the space around them. 

“See anything suspicious yet?” Lily asked, feeling a bit silly for bringing him here. The neighborhood was so peaceful and idyllic - it suddenly felt ridiculous to be worried about some weirdo fan, as little kids rode by on their bicycles and dogs barked happily.

He shook his head, and she moved forward to unlock her door. But Dean touched her arm to stop her. He pushed past her and examined her lock. 

“Allow me.” He said quietly and then pulled a small leather pouch out of an inside pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out two metal instruments and poked them into her lock. 

After an alarmingly short period of time, he got both the handle and deadbolt unlocked, and pushed the door open easily. 

Lily felt a little sick to her stomach. Dean squeezed her upper arm. “Don't worry. We'll get you new locks that make that impossible.”

He preceded her into her house and she suddenly remembered the load of dishes that sat in her sink and the fact that she hadn't dusted or swept in about a month. The dust bunnies lived a good and happy life in the corners of her rooms and under her couch.

But Dean didn't seem to notice the dishes or the bunnies, instead he just slowly wandered from room to room while she trailed after him, feeling more ridiculous with every silent minute that went by.

Back in her living room, he approached the windows and fidgeted with the locks, frowning and shaking his head. She assumed that wasn't good. He confirmed her suspicions when he turned to face her. 

“We'll get you new window locks as well.”

Lily felt her stomach plummet again as Dean pointed out yet another way she’d been fooled into thinking she was safe in her home, so her voice was a little sharp when she spoke.

“Why bother with locks for the windows at all? I mean, can’t he just smash them in?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but they’ll be connected to your alarm system, so that if they are broken, the alarm company will be alerted immediately and a call goes out to 911 automatically.”

“My alarm system definitely doesn’t do that.”

Dean smiled. “Your new one will.”

Lily sighed. “Goodbye savings, I guess.”

Dean walked back into her bedroom which was right off the living room; he’d gone in briefly, but this time he took his time, scanning everything closely. Finally he came to stand at the end of her bed, pointing up at the painting that hung above the head of it. It was of a woman’s face, but her face was constructed from dozens of round spheres.

“Is this the painting he mentioned?”

Lily nodded. “Yeah.”

“What did he say about it?”

Lily took a deep breath, her stomach knotting with the same fear she’d felt when she read the words the first time. “He said that the painting was proof that we were perfect for each other because Salvador Dali was his favorite artist too.”

Dean looked down at her. “Is Salvador Dali your favorite artist?”

Lily shrugged. “Not necessarily. I like some of his stuff, but I usually prefer realism over surrealism.”

Dean looked back up at the painting. “So why do you have this painting in such a prominent and personal place? What’s it called?”

“Galatea of the Spheres. It’s a painting of Dali’s wife, apparently. But, I don’t know, I just…liked it.” Lily said with another shrug.

Dean shook his head. “Come on, that’s not an answer. What do you like about it?”

Lily sighed into her explanation. “I don’t know, I just feel like…she’s…I think she’s sad, and the sadness drew me in.”

Dean hummed. “Hmm…what makes you think she’s sad? She kind of looks like she’s sleeping.”

Lily shook her head. “No, she’s coming apart, she’s…it’s like she’s being pulled apart. She’s too many things, and she can’t hold herself together.”

Lily felt her cheeks get pink. “Or, I don’t know that’s my layman's interpretation anyway.”

Dean just nodded and then walked over to her bedroom window, scanning the outside, before he quickly strode past her. 

“Be right back. Stay here.”

She heard him leave through the front door, but he was quickly back inside again, coming back into her room nodding as though he’d proven something. “He hasn’t been in your house, and he isn’t someone you know. I mean, he isn’t an ex, or an old acquaintance or anything like that.”

Lily was slightly baffled. “How do you know that?”

Dean pointed to her window. “I stood outside at the right vantage point, and I could see into your bedroom very easily. That’s how he knew about the painting. And I think, if he’d been inside, you’d be missing something; he would have taken a souvenir. And you didn’t say anything was missing.”

Lily shook her head. “No, nothing’s missing.” She whispered. She felt ill at the idea of him coming into her home and taking something personal as a keepsake, but she also felt stupid for thinking he’d been inside already. She’d let her imagination run away with itself.

Dean continued his explanation. “And if he knew you like he claims to, he’d probably know that Dali isn’t your favorite artist, and he’d likely know how personally connected you feel to this painting. If he knew about that he definitely would have used it to get closer to you, to try and forge a bond.”

“I don’t know about ‘personally connected’ to the painting.” Lily argued, slightly self-conscious now. “I just like it.”

Dean grunted non-commitally. “Either way, he’d know more personal information than that.”

Lily scrubbed her hand over her eyes. “So, I was panicking for nothing. The cops were right; he’s just some weird fan.”

Dean shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not. Lily, this guy stood outside your window and stared into it, meaning he was probably close by, within binocular range, at least. Just because he hasn’t worked up the courage to come inside yet, doesn’t mean he won’t try. Everything about this guy says this is gonna escalate. Don’t doubt your instincts. They might save your life.”

Lily shivered at the idea of being spied on through her window. She walked over and pulled down the blind, shutting out the slowly setting, late summer sun. She hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. 

“Okay, what’s the next step?”

Dean’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Shopping.”

“So, everything is set up.” Dean said, nodding towards her new alarm system that he’d installed in record time. In fact, he’d done everything with so little effort she was amazed. He knew exactly what kind of alarm and locks to get and he’d installed them all in a matter of hours. 

It was almost nine o’clock before they got back with all her new security gear, and she’d told him he could just come back the next day to install everything, but he’d refused. She was very grateful for that since she knew she wouldn’t have been able to sleep otherwise.

Now, it was nearly midnight and Dean was just finishing up a tutorial for her new alarm system which was connected to both her windows and doors. 

“All you have to do is enter your password and everything will be armed. Remember to make it something that can’t be connected to you, like your birthday, and it shouldn’t be the same as any of your other passwords. It should be a series of eight, completely random numbers and letters. And you should change it every month or so.”

Lily nodded, reaching for the pad to enter something and Dean turned away so he couldn’t see it. She found the gesture surprisingly sweet. He really wanted her to feel safe, and she did. She’d been nervous and scared for weeks, but in half a day this man she barely knew had swooped in and made her feel safer than she had in a long time. 

It was pretty extraordinary, really. 

She clicked the last button for her password and the system beeped happily. She reached out to touch Dean’s forearm to let him know she was finished and to thank him. He’d long ago ditched his suit jacket, and rolled up his sleeves while he worked, so her fingertips brushed against his warm skin and his muscles tensed slightly as he turned back to face her.

She knew she was blushing slightly and felt like she did that quite often with this man. She smiled a little awkwardly as she dropped her hand back to her side. 

“Thank you so much for everything. I really appreciate it all.”

Dean nodded and rolled down his sleeves as he crossed the room to pick up his suit jacket off her couch. 

“No problem.” He said, shrugging back into his jacket and covering his shoulder holster again; he’d never taken off the gun. 

He pulled his shirt sleeves into place under the jacket and smiled at Lily as he returned to her side. “Promise that you’ll reach out when you hear from him again.”

Lily closed her eyes for a moment. “Can you say, ‘if I hear from him again’? Just for me?”

Dean sighed and nodded indulgently. “Sure. If you hear from him again, call me.”

He reached around her to open the door and he was suddenly close enough that she could feel his warmth and smell the spicy scent of his cologne, or maybe that was just him.

Either way, it made her momentarily woozy and she had to close her eyes again for a moment. She clumsily moved out of the way of the door as it opened and Dean reached out to steady her a little.

“You good?” He asked, concern showing in his mossy green eyes. 

Lily blushed even more and shook her head. “Yeah, I think I’m just overtired.”

Dean nodded and pointed to the alarm. “Make sure you set that as soon as I’m gone, and then you can finally let yourself get a good night’s sleep.”

Lily nodded back. “Yes, of course. Thanks again.”

Dean pulled back from her and stuck out his hand. “Best of luck, Lieutenant Crosby, and I truly hope I don’t hear from you again.”

Lily chuckled softly and shook his hand, trying not to fixate on the way his hand engulfed hers or the way the rough calluses on his palm rubbed against her skin.

“I hope not too.”

Dean walked out the door and started down her porch steps before she called him back. “Wait, Dean!”

He turned back to her and she laughed. “What do I owe you?”

He shrugged. “I know where you live. I’ll send you a bill.”

He felt his blood boil as he watched the man walk out of her house and slide behind the wheel of his classic Impala. Who the fuck was this guy? What the fuck was he doing in her house so late?

He hadn’t been able to get away from work until just now, so he was late to her place, later than usual, anyway. He got there just in time to see them talking and laughing on her porch. She was laughing, anyway. What was he saying that was so fucking funny? They were too far away for him to hear their words, but his binoculars allowed him to see how she smiled at him and laughed at his bullshit jokes. It made him want to scream. 

She was taunting him with this man, testing him, he just knew it. He didn’t like the way she toyed with him. When they were finally together, he’d put a stop to that, immediately. 

She won’t dare taunt me then. He thought furiously. We’ll see who’s in charge then, once I’ve finally forced her to acknowledge our love. 

Then he’d make sure she never left him again.

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

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@fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @lastcallatrockysbar @b3autyfuld1sast3r

[blushingbubbles]

Saw your post about wanting to write and thought I’d send a setting and let your mind run wild and share with us what you come up with.

The setting is a free use city. Everyone is of legal age and clean. Anyone wearing a collar is free use to anyone. Any man/woman could take you at any time. Waiting in line for food and the man behind you starts fingering you. At the register a free use woman is being fucked by the manager while you give your order. When you get on the bus, the driver grabs you to suck his cock while he drives and doesn’t let you go when your stop comes up. Your home has no locks and men can come and go in the night as they please.

How do you see a day living like this going?

first of all, thank you for giving the addendumn that everyone is clean and legal 🥰

this is a free use society marked by color-coded collars -- green for newbies (which are observers ONLY), blue for novices (who can be used ONLY by other novices and are also MENTORED by silves), and silvers (to be used by EVERYONE).

also cameramen take shifts night & day to film the sex happening in the city. they stream it all live, and people across the world can subscribe to see it. the subscription prices cover every civilian's taxes because im sick of paying mine lol

and i added a little tech in here too for like an extra layer of consent bc extra consent is extra sexy

this is SO FREAKING LONG SORRY NOT SORRY

It's 1:30 in the morning when the collar vibrates for the first time. The movement isn't enough to completely wake me. By now, I've gotten used to the sensation, the shifting coolness against my skin.

Someone's reserved me -- likely Charlie, the bartender in the apartment just above mine.

But it's only likely. I won't know for sure until they arrive.

The collar vibrates again at 1:40, and my eyes flicker open. If I really wanted to, I could disable the vibrations. If I really really wanted to, like some of my friends, I could take the collar off at night.

The system would label me "offline," my door would automatically lock, and I wouldn't be woken at 1:30 in the morning. But by this point it's a habit to keep it on.

The collar vibrates again, a third and final time, and my front door opens.

Charlie calls my name through the apartment. When I dont answer, he wanders the hall to my bedroom. His belt is already off. I wave at him from the pile of blankets.

"Hi."

He smiles, his belt hits the floor, and he unbuttons his dark jeans. "Thought for sure you'd be asleep."

I yawn and stretch, pointing to the silver collar winking in the light. "It woke me up. Do you want me to be asleep?"

His shirt went next. Then his boxers.

"No, but if I woke you up and you knew it was me without opening your eyes, it'd be hot as fuck."

"I'd always know," I admit. He grins and attempts to untangle my legs from the blankets. "You smell like whiskey. Like...all the time."

"That bad?"

"After leaving the bar? It's a dead giveaway."

When my legs are free, he rolls me onto my side. The little purple numbers on the nightstand clock glow back at me.

My back presses flush against his chest, and despite me lifting my leg for easier access, I feel myself on the verge of another yawn.

He kneads my tits and groans in my ear, "Fuckin' missed these."

Half a moment later, he slips inside me, and we both gasp.

The clock reads 1:59.

--

Sundays are my favorite day of the week. After changing my sheets and tidying my apartment, I stick an arm out the window to test the temperature.

On the street below, a woman moans. From the fire escape, I can see them both. The man kneeling before her wears a silver collar resembling my own, and she's grasping on the wall behind her, her chin tipped up. Next to them a man wearing a black vest films. It's Sam, this side of the city's morning videographer.

I get coffee with my friend Ash and we sit outside, enjoying the spring breeze. They play with their collar -- blue now instead of green.

"So I stayed online yesterday," they admit, and I gasp.

"How was it? Did you get any visitors?"

"Last night."

I squeal, tapping my feet on the pavement.

"Just the one! No more."

"No that's perfect, I'm glad," I say, taking another sip of my tea. "I know it might be frustrating, but it's better than being thrown in the deep end."

Until three days ago, Ash's collar and status was green: observer. The blue one signifies something else, a step further into the community. Now, they're free to service three other blue-statuses per day.

My next words halt at an approaching shadow.

"Good morning," Ash smiles.

"Morning," he says. He takes in both of our collars before nodding pointedly at me, and I stand from my chair.

He unzips his pants as he sits down. Toward me, he points at the ground. Two green collars sitting to my left turn to look.

Ash props their face in their hand while my knees meet the pavement. The stranger tugs the front of my dress down until my tits spring free.

"Better," he sighs, and I smile.

My hand secures around his length and I begin to stroke his hardening cock. He glances at Ash.

"How much longer do you have to go for silver?"

I draw him closer to my lips. Saliva pools in my mouth, coating my tongue, and I draw half of his length in. More saliva spills out, and I use it to work the base of his shaft.

"I just changed over three days ago, so about a month."

I hollow my cheeks and rise before taking him deeper. He grunts, his hand reaching for my hair.

"This your first training session?"

"No," Ash laughed. "She took me out on Friday. We went to Cobalt."

I remember the night and resist a smile, taking his cock to the back of my throat.

"Cobalt's--" he stumbles over his words. "--P--erfect."

"We had a lot of fun."

I brush a knuckle softly over the the underside of his shaft, and his breath hitches. "I'll bet."

"She's a very thorough teacher."

He breaches the back of my throat and stops speaking entirely. When the wind picks up, he pulls my hair from my face. Ash adjusts their chair, peering over the table at me.

My eyes flick up to meet his own, and his orgasm takes both of us by surprise. Startled, I gag on his cum, and some slips from my mouth. My tongue darts out to catch it before it seeps into his pants.

"Very thorough teacher," he agrees. For the next minute I clean him of my spit before tucking him back into his pants. He helps me stand from the pavement and brushes the pebbles embedded in my knees.

Before departing, he squeezes each of my still-exposed tits. "Keep these out today."

I take the seat he just vacated and grin at the green collars sitting nearby.

"Hi."

I could write forever abt this but this has gone on so so so long lmk if u want another part 🫠

[whisperwritingstuff]

in which the aftermath of reverse scar's Big Plan goes in a way-

-----

Eventually, they enter a structure. Much smaller than a Mansion. More well-lit.

He's set on a bed, but the other vex continues holding him. He hears the door click shut. It shouldn't feel like he's trapped in here, but it does. He's not sure he even has the magic to move himself through the thin walls of this place.

He tries to whine, but silence is all that greets him. He flinches, having managed to blissfully forget for a while, what was stolen.

The other vex looks sharply at the Summoner, speaking in a tone that makes his gut clench. Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. Not good.

The other vex's hand finds his hair, carding through in motions that- Well, he tries not to be soothed, but his body automatically relaxes into the touch, ignoring the words exchanged above him.

Curved claws reach for his throat, spiking fear back into his system.

He tries to bite- The other vex is already covering his mouth, as if expecting that, not even pausing in running its other hand through his hair.

The strangling purple lock on his throat eases up, even if he can still feel the hooks of it, ready to snap shut again at any moment.

He clicks terror and sorrow to the other vex, uncaring as he babbles the sounds over and over into its hand. Its magic washes into him, sweet bright chill, something almost like gentle as it smooths down his terror. He sags in its arms, turning to press his face to its chest again. He wakes up suddenly, on the bed beside it. It closes a chest near the bed and then gathers him up in its arms again.

That sound again… He blinks. Wait, no, he. He should know that sound. His thoughts feel so much clearer as they zip through his mind. He knows that sound.

He repeats the sound back, to see if it'll help.

The vex looks into his eyes, and- And there's another spark there. Something he knows. Something on the tip of his tongue. Something sweet like a dark molasses, something sharp like an explosion.

"Cub." He says.

The delight that crests over the vex's expression is worth… a hundred diamonds? No, a thousand. Maybe more. He wants to see it again.

"Cub. Cub." He repeats, and pulls the other vex closer.

"Yeah, that's me." The other vex says. The other vex… gets a name? He looks sidleong at the summoner, who hovers nearby, watching them with an intensity he doesn't want to think about.

But it doesn't seem mad that the other vex, that Cub, has a name. Which is a small miracle. He blinks back at Cub, stunned by this revelation.

"And you're Scar. You're Scar." Cub tells him, that sound they keep making finally clicking into place.

Scar. His own name. Scar.

"Oh."

"It's a lot, yeah." Cub ruffles his hair, then goes back to carding through it.

"Yeah." He echoes, agreeing. He has a name. He's Scar. Before he can figure out what to do with that, the Summoner shoos them off the bed, immediately proceeding to change the… bloodied? blankets, replacing them with fresh, clean blankets.

Cub wraps his arms around Scar and then flops freefall back onto the bed, pulling a chuckle out of Scar as they tumble. Scar clings to Cub. "When will I be summoned?" He asks, having expected it to have happened already, since they returned to what must be their home.

Conflict crosses Cub's expression. "Do you want to be summoned?"

Scar looks away. What he wants doesn't factor into this, he knows that much. He doesn't need to fail that test. "When will it happen?" He asks again, quieter. The clawed hand of the Summoner on his back, between his wings, makes Scar flinch.

Cub pulls him closer, holds him tighter. "He doesn't know what he's saying."

Scar grumbles faintly. He knows exactly what he's saying, and even he's allowed to be practical sometimes. Well, maybe less practical and more impatient, but Scar thinks those are kind of just the same thing prettied up in different word-clothes. He's just skipping to the end and bypassing all the boring waiting parts. He's here to be summoned, so they might as well get it over with.

"He sounds as coherent as Scar ever does." The Summoner argues. Does… the Summoner know him?

"Grian, he doesn't think he can refuse." Cub speaks with a deliberate sternness, as if it were anything other than mere fact.

Scar can't refuse. The summoning will take him, as it always does. His want or not want is entirely not a factor. The Summoner's will will be done. But that's less interesting than the sound, the name. The Summoner's name. Grian. Grian. "Grian." He murmurs without meaning to.

"Yes, Scar?" Without seeing it, Scar knows the tilt of head that goes with that question. He… knows this Summoner.

"I know you." He says, the only thought he has to give. He can't let the question go unanswered too long, after all.

"I certainly hope you do." Grian says, running a clawtip over the edge of Scar's wings, pulling a shiver out of Scar. "Sounds like you scrambled your brains something fierce." Scar wriggles in place until Cub relents and loosens his grip. It's enough to allow Scar to turn, facing Grian and pressing his back into Cub. Cub's arm snugs tight around him again when he settles.

He at least wants to face his to-be summoner. He can't even see any injuries from their fight. He knows he tasted blood, so Grian must have healed.

Grian reaches out, cups his cheek with fingers that feel more suited for plucking than for cradling. Scar finds himself automatically leaning into the touch.

Something that feels like purple static brushes against his mind.

"Do you want to be summoned?" Grian asks him, serious and genuine.

"Yes." Scar lies, knowing better than to earn the ire of his to-be Summoner.

Something disappointed flickers through the void-dark eyes in front of Scar, and the static feeling pulls away.

"He-" Cub starts to say.

"I know." Grian snaps at Cub, a sharp hiss following the words.

Cub shrinks back, hunching in on himself and Scar. A growl sounds, and it takes Scar several moments to understand that he's the one growling at Grian. Every sensible instinct is telling him to not piss off this Summoner, but- But there's this bright protective flare of emotion that surges through him, from the way Cub cringes back. Maybe he can't do much, but that's no excuse to do nothing.

Without a Summoner empowering him, Scar knows the fight would be even shorter than last time. Especially with the faint echo of hooks in his throat, ready to cut away his voice again.

He straightens up and sets his shoulders to cover as much of Cub as he can regardless. Thankfully, that at least seems to draw Grian's gaze from Cub to Scar.

Grian grabs Scar's face again, more roughly. "No one else can claim you. I won't let them." The words are a dark hiss, heavy with threat.

Why does Scar feel something sweet bloom in his chest?

Grian… Lovely-sharp Grian, vicious and prideful and vengeful. He knows Grian.

To be claimed by Grian wouldn't be so bad, would it? Those void-dark eyes carry such intense emotion, Scar just wants to eat them like candies. A few more moments of drifting, letting himself lose time in the void, and Scar has a new thought queue up.

The seed of this anger-plant is hurt.

Which is a pretty thought. Scar thinks an anger plant would be fun to sculpt. Reds, of course. Sharp, curved thorns, maybe some brightly colored layered leaves.

"You're a plant." Scar says.

Grian blinks. Looks over Scar's shoulder. "You're sure that fixed the concussion?"

"Yes, I'm sure, do you think that was the first time? This is just the rest of it." Cub at least sounds like he's doing better. That's good. Scar likes that. If Grian was a plant, Scar would get him a nice pot and make super super duper sure to water him regularly. Maybe Grian-plant could be a centerpiece as one of the zoo topiaires. He thinks Grian would like that, all the sun and people admiring his pretty leaves. Scar reaches out, brushing his fingers against Grian's feathers. That's all Scar can reach, with Grian arching them out to show how emotionly he is.

"Scar." Cub rests his head on Scar's shoulder from behind.

"Mm?" Scar tips his head into Cub's. If Grian was a carnivorous flower, he wouldn't mind feeding a few guests to Grian every now and again. Surely the zoo will be popular enough for that.

"Where are you at?" Cub asks, intonations tickling Scar's mind.

"The zoo. Hiding the missing persons fliers." Scar answers easily. Obviously he can't have people seeing those, it'd drive people away. But he might keep them in a drawer in his office, or in a secret room. Or maybe in his mob boss desk, yes.

"Can you try being here?" Cub asks.

"But who'll water Grian?" Scar whines. Here… It's a lot easier and nicer to think about his zoo.

"We brought him with us, remember. He's right here to water all you like." Cub bumps his head into Scar's.

Scar blinks, realizing that Grian is, in fact, right here holding his chin and looking at him like-

"Hey, no watering!" Grian protests.

"Maybe he's a cactus." Cub speculates.

"Probably a sucker, yeah." Scar tries to nod, finds that he can't with the iron grip on his chin, and then just kind of relaxes as much as he can anyway. Here. Be here. He can do that. Cub and Grian are here, it'll be fine. Grian rocks on his feet before full-on shoving Scar, and therefore Cub, into laying down onto the bed. Without waiting, Grian clambers atop the pair, perching on Scar's chest and peering down at him for another long while, before tucking his head under Scar's chin, turned to the side.

Aside from mild bafflement, Scar doesn't feel all that odd about this new development, so he just loops his arms around Grian's waist, to have somewhere comfortable to settle them. Muscle memories, maybe. "That was so stupid." Cub mutters, under his breath. But his breath is cool over Scar's cheek, so it's kind of impossible not to hear what he's saying.

"Mm?" Scar inquires with a hum.

"We could have lost you."

"Never, no, never." Grian swears, apparently also listening in to the quiet words.

Scar kneads Grian's lower back. "No escape." He muses, calmly. He'd tried. He'd tried his very best long shot, the only idea he had. And it had failed, spectacularly. He's back here, but now they know he'd tried to escape, tried to steal. He won't get another opportunity, not with his voice held hostage. Not with two people who know him so well. Something he can convince himself is peace settles over him.

"Scar, no, it's not like that." Cub protests.

Grian remains conspicuously silent.

With his timer reset, Scar knows he could last… months, at the least, maybe more if he used as little magic as possible. But it would be months where he knew exactly what was waiting for him at the end.

He'll need it eventually. If he wants to live, if he wants to keep his mind intact. And with Grian swearing to allow no other to have him… There'll only be one place he can get it.

Is it worth living out that farce of those months? The agonizing dread in tedium?

Why shouldn't he get it over with now? He's supposed to be here saving Cub. Was it enough to have brought Cub back to consciousness? Would it have been kinder to allow him to slumber in himself?

"Would you rather sleep?" Scar asks Cub.

"What? No." Cub grips Scar a little tighter.

Right, he should have guessed as much. Cub prefers to face reality. It's admirable, in a way. "Alright." Scar nods, careful not to disturb Grian too much with the movement of it.

"Scar, you're scaring me." Cub's voice is tight. That's not right. It takes a lot to scare Cub, Cub likes scary stuff.

Scar doesn't feel scared. He doesn't feel much at all, really. Just that sort of peace he'd found, draped heavy over him.

If Cub's scared, Scar's sure he should feel mega-scared. He tries to feel mega-scared for a moment, but nothing comes to him. "Okay." "Don't-" Cub starts, then stops. The long pause is filled with the flex of Cub's hands clenching and unclenching and clenching again into Scar's clothes. "Can you just stay, for now, please?"

"Anything for you." Scar says, natural, easy. If Cub wants him here a little longer, that's actually something worth delaying for. "Thanks, man." Cub tries to sound casual, but Scar's ear knows better.

Scar shifts his own and Grian's weight some, so that they're more evenly pressing down on all parts of Cub, a heavy bulk of pressure. It doesn't do much, but he feels Cub very slightly loosen under them. Nowhere near genuinely relaxed, though. Grian huffs a breath that almost borders on growl. No good, that. He should get practice with soothing their- his soon-to-be Summoner. Scar does hope that Grian at least waits until Cub is ready to let him go.

Either way, Scar slides his hands up, until he meets feathers. His hands know what to do without him thinking, claws flicking between feathers and fingertips pressing into wing muscles.

Despite Grian tensing up when Scar begins, Scar persists. Grian doesn't move his wings away and slowly, slowly the tension drips out. Scar thinks he should be feeling proud, but again there's really not much of anything. He keeps working over Grian's wings regardless, though. A relaxed Summoner is best. Grian chirps sweet little noises. Scar chirps back. Den. Comfort. He knows those sounds.

Grian trembles on him. Softly, Scar hears Grian's chirp for pack and he thinks. This too should make something happen in his chest. The raw longing in the sound of it. He wants to feel something about it, but that thing like peace is too much for anything to fill the space. Scar doesn't remember peace working like that before. Oh well.

Scar chirps back, regardless. In fact he runs through the chirps he knows. Den. Comfort. Sky. Exasperation. Joy. No, that one doesn't sound right.

Joy. Joy. Joy. Scar growls a frustrated noise when he can't get the shape of the noise to sound quite right.

Grian nuzzles at Scar's neck and makes a different sound. A low warble that Scar doesn't want to think about the word for. He doesn't like hearing that from Grian. The sound of it, in a life tied together, when the joy-thrill of a kill gave way to the despair of the linked death.

Scar warbles the noise back without thinking, feeling it resonate in his chest. Don't like that. No sir.

Cub clicks pack and longing to him.

It seems that yearning is the mood of the night. Isn't that silly? They should try just stopping wanting things, like him. It makes everything so much simpler.

Ah, but Scar knows he could want things so much less than even this. All it takes is that little twist of magic, and then it'll be all over. If he takes it in his hands now, then he doesn't have to wait for some unknown time when it will come to claim him. It can be his decision. His action. Scar runs his fingers up against the grain of the feathers of Grian's wings, getting an indignant sound out of Grian for it.

All he has to do, just a tiny push. "Grian~" Scar croons, words laden in honey-sweet charms. Grian's already relaxed, it's not that hard to work his influence in. Careful, careful. "Grian, you-"

The trap of purple magic snaps shut, cutting Scar's words off in the middle. He twists and struggles, but between Grian's weight on him and Cub's arms holding him, there's not much that struggle does for Scar. He's not trying to actually hurt either of them, after all.

Just the death throes of a creature who can't understand it's been long since caught.

The peace from before comes over Scar again, heavier, dragging down his muscles into lethargy. "What- What did you do?" Cub's voice flickers with a bare hint of something cold.

Grian groans, flap-fluttering his wings in slow motions. "I- He was doing something. To me." Grian's voice is a croak, disoriented. "I stopped him."

"There were better ways." Cub's hand at Scar's throat. Scar thinks about it tearing through the skin there, and can't even muster up a hint of enthusiasm.

"You did it, before." Grian snaps.

"And I didn't agree with it then, either." Cub's magic pours cool and sweet over Scar's throat, but it doesn't make a dent on the purple lock.

Scar understands. Cub had to protect his Summoner. Without sentiment factoring in, without Cub's self weighing in, the most efficient and effective option was to seal his voice. Easy.

It's so easy to do things they don't agree with, for their Summoner. Grian isn't his summoner yet, but he might as well be. His control of Scar already runs so deep. Scar's voice obeys Grian, his body obeys Grian. Even his thoughts keep trying to bend toward… But they continue this cruel farce, Scar smiling and play-pretending that he's a free man. Pretending that he's a person. He's not a person, is he? A play-pretend self and a pretty name can't change that.

In a surge of movement, Cub shoves Grian off the pile, off the bed. Scar finds himself moved, repositioned to laying back on the bed and staring up into Cub's face, with Cub's body covering most of his. "Hey, Scar, stay with me, man." Cub presses his forehead to Scar's.

The whole thing feels kind of distant to Scar. Limbs and skin one step removed from being his own, like he's allowed to use them only through some granted mercy that could be revoked at any moment. "Scar, c'mon. Scar." Cub's voice loses inflection, going flatter as he speaks.

Scar thinks that should mean something to him. He thinks the frantic darting of Cub's gaze should mean something. Thinks the name he remembers holding so precious should… Something. He doesn't know.

"I'm going to have you sleep for a bit." Cub says, tone almost entirely flat now. It's not a question, Scar knows.

That's fine. Decisions are made for him. That's how this works.

Cub's magic washes into him, first a wave flowing down from his neck over his body, reminding all of his muscles how to be soft and loose. Then a swelling surge bubbling up from his neck into his head, pouring through his mind. Scar has no resistance to give, finding this magic a much preferable sort of peace, compared to the one he's already in. So much sweeter, a cool towel over a fever, a drizzle of molasses.

Scar embraces the magic, sinking under its clear waters willingly.

[siremasterlawrence]

Corporate Take Over

Jon Allen Michael Skarsgard Transportation Corporation Is worldwide renowned love and inspirational for this Corp who gives much back to the world and rare occasion is now being hashed out by his family after the death of a patriarch.The funeral is coming to a conclusion in a matters of moments this entire family will learn their faith and place in the world as I know that I own permanently and for all his life they have no choice but to obey every command I make. As the lawyer walks straight in to the room carefully sitting behind the desk as he drops the folder on to the desk and proceeds to explain the process of the will being signed over to me. Correctly so they are all in shock even though something more sinister is about to occur before they could related it and the needles pop into their neck as they all go blank and fall to the floor.

Frank Skarsgard is the eldest of the six kids of the former patriarch sitting still in a empty mindless state of mind as he approach him excruciatingly slow placing hand on to his shoulder because I whisper into his ears a single few world to trigger him. His mind slowly closes around him clouding him up as he wakes up standing by his car in a expensive leather brown jacket covering a three buttoned polo sweater and a tight blue jeans wrap onto his body hugging so tightly.He does not know why but he feels like he is supposed to be standing up infront of the mansion that use to belong to his family but now oh belongs to the man he works for now and he is happy to serve him without any question due to his devotion.

“Where is this motherfucker? He took my life some how.”

“Looking for me muscled pussy boi”

“Well I am here for work”

“Ok tough guy”

“Go inside and rip your clothes “

“Leave your under pants on”

“Yes Master”

“Leave your article of clothing on the table”

“Put these work clothes on”

“What the shit are these ?..”

“Get your blue collar ass do work “

“Or would you rather wreck your pretty clothes?”

“You are a ass”

“No! Your all ass”

“Ouch!”

“What pussy?”

“Don’t slap me so hard”

“I’ll do as I wish “

Frank can hear his phone ringing as his eyes roll back into the socket and he obediently answers the call then lets me know this his brother is arriving in the back of the home instructed and stripping naked as he exits the car awaiting by the pool as he looks in disgust of it all except he can’t stop staring at the clock on the wall. The more he stares the dial on the wall begins to spin round and round pulling him in closer till he walks into a chair slow he removes his clothes picking up and he swimming trunks from the chair as he slips them on happily and picks up the Swimming pool skimmer as he cleans up the pool area.

“I am the pool boi”

“I must do as he says “

“I clean “

“I love to “

“Live to “

“He is Master”

“Wait what?”

“You have fallen for me”

“Yes my King”

“Show off your pussy”

“God! You are damn fine”

“Oh! Thank you sir”

“Mind if I have some fun”

“Please sir”

“Oooooh Ggggooooddddd”

“Yyyyeeesss sssiiirrr”

“Who are you?”

“Your sweet, sexy and beautiful pussy boi”

His second and third youngest bois arrive ted to my new mansion in to the hottest fiery hot, raging red and absolutely beautiful and epic car I have ever seen speeding in to the side entrance blasting music so loud for all to hear.The car parks as a voice announces to them they must go to the pill house with the map going on fire and the alert system blaring as they walk into the pool house and the locks automatically switch on causing the doors to glow brightly. Every glass clearing form windows, mirrors, television, clear roof top, and any other sexy glass surface comes through shooting into both men eyes hitting him head on as he fell back to the floor as he is shook to the core in craziness.In something out of this world appears into the room raining down on him with a three dimensional man standing in the middle of the room and snaps his fingers as a rainbow blows into the room blinding him completely right now. The mind numbs right to their core as they are spinning out

of the control slamming both of guys into the wall forcibly making them beg and plead for me to help them as their minds are finally subjected to my power.

“What do you think is going to happen?”

“I—I”

“Don’t know “

“Do you love me?”

“Nnnnooo”

“Yes”

“Obviously you do”

“Yes Master”

“I can see your mind going blank”

“Follow me “

“Strip it off strip it off”

“Fffuuuccckkk”

“I love you “

“I love you both”

“You are my puppets”

“Succumb to my will”

“Madly in love with me”

“Crave me in all ways “

The end

[aquz]

babysitter . . . # four

☆ ortho has a temporarily new babysitter and idia has to walk him there every morning before school. idia isn't a fan of clichés but... who knew the babysitter was so cute?

☆ gender neutral reader, reader is kind of a shut-in yet is good with kids, strangers to crushes with idia shroud featuring ortho! magicless au!

gently, idia closed the door to the small room at the very end of the upstairs hallway. ortho stood in front of him, a deadpan look displayed on his face. "okay, the security system is up-to-date. remember what i said: keep the door locked, absolutely do not answer it, don't touch anything on my computer that isn't a children's game because you might end up scarring yourself, and i'll be home as soon as possible."

idia laid down some common ground rules, for ortho was to be left home alone for a few hours. unfortunately, ortho had to be left home alone thanks to the school exam that both idia and (name) had to take. idia remembered the conversation from last night and how nervous he felt when he realized ortho would be home alone for a while.

(name) [6:40 pm]

god damn it (ﾒ` ﾛ ´) okay so erm. i have to show up to school IN PERSON tomorrow. . .

idia [6:40 pm]

LMAO HOW DOES IT FEEL

wait

what about ortho

(name) [6:42 pm]

augh you're right ... maybe he can stay home alone for a bit? i've been staying home alone quite often since i was young and i think i've turned out fine ^_^

idia [6:44 pm]

BUT we live in a big house and we are a well known family... what if someone tries to break in??

(name) [6:45 pm]

im sure nobody wants to do that, and if they do, think of the fancy shmancy security set up you have!!! police will be there like... in a second

idia [6:50 pm]

im going to assume ortho told you about that because i have no recollection of telling you about the security set up myself. i think i should be more worried about you breaking in rather than anyone else (⊙_⊙)

there was no time to be worried, though; idia had a solid 5 minutes before he absolutely HAD to leave. ortho smiled, "it's okay, idia! i'll be extra careful! i won't go outside, i won't eat your candy and i'll even clean my room!" idia patted the younger boy's head. "good, i've really got to go now... don't forget to call me if you need anything. if you can't reach the phone on the counter, you can use my tablet to contact (name)."

ortho nodded and waved a goodbye to his brother, who finally made his way downstairs and out the door with a grimace on his face. it's too early to have a stomachache; stress from ortho and the exam clashing together as if they were fighting for dominance in his stomach, which made him feel worse. he could probably throw up right about now.

idia arrived just in time for the bell to ring and signal the start of classes. idia looked around the room at all the other students, sitting or hanging around their seats while they waited for the instructor. idia's eyes glanced towards his own seat - unofficially but he had been sitting there for so long that it was automatically his - to find someone already sitting there. idia's face lit up with recognition as he began to make his way up the raised seats to the very top; in the corner was idia's occupied seat. "hey... um, i sit here." idia chortled at his own joke.

idia's poor attempt at "do-i-know-you" humor startled the babysitter. (name) looked up with wide eyes, before sighing out in relief. "is it really? sorry about that; your seat was the only open one that's not surrounded by people i don't know..." idia shrugged at their statement. "it's okay, i get that. i sit all the way up here, in the corner, because i'm away from most people."

they nodded in response as they watched idia sit down in the empty seat beside them. as soon as he touched the chair, the teacher walked into the room. "class, sit down and listen up; today is the day of the last practice exam. i will divide you all into groups and send you where you belong."

the class erupted into whispers, hoping to he grouped with their friends. as the teacher began listing off names and groups, idia tuned out. it was quite loud for him and being in public during such a nerve-wracking day really set him off.

"...., .....,. To start group b, shroud and (last name). ....., .....," idia was not able to catch his last name; luckily the cutie in his seat did. whipping their head over to the anxious man, they smiled brightly. "hey, did you get that? we are in the same group! they quietly exclaimed to idia, who was just snapped out of his own head.

"....yay..." he quietly hummed, looking down at his hands, which fiddled with his hoodie. (name) deadpanned, "oh? are you not excited about that? huh, and i thought we had something special..." they dramatically sighed which made idia shake his head. "nonono - you just... we can even do anything together because we are taking practice exams. it's almost like it'll make no difference if you're there or not..." he replied.

before the babysitter could response, someone sitting in the row in front of the two whipped around, pressing a firm finger to her lips as she shushed both the teenagers behind her. she shook her head before turning back around. (name) and idia looked at each other immediately after she turned back around and started to giggle quietly among themselves.

the bell rung, signaling the end of the torturous practice exam. idia sighed and let the disgustingly stressful feelings out of his lungs. standing up quickly, he began packing up. he looked to where (name) were assigned to sit, two rows ahead of him, and watched as they did the same. he was about to meet them at their desk to walk home together . . . until they began to leave and the crowd of students followed behind them. thay put a physical barrier between idia and (name)... there was no way he could catch up now.

idia waited until the horde of students all left to turn in his exam and to leave the room. he walked down the hallway, a sudden sadness in his step. 'you didn't wait for me' he sulked in his head, gripping harder onto his backpack strap. as he pushed through the school doors to reach the outside, he felt a looming presence behind him; one that was not sadness.

he slowly looked behind himself and there they were - holding two energy drinks. "idia~ sorry for not waiting. the students are as strong as elephants, i couldn't stop walking or else i would've gotten pushed and trampled... i bought you a little something!" (name) held their hand out, passing an energy drink to idia.

"o-oh. no, it's fine. totally cool. i also really need to make it home, ortho is still there alone..." idia sighed and began the slowest brisk pace. to be fair, he would probably keel over the second he reached an increased heart rate, so at least he was looking out for himself. (name) nodded. "yeah, that's smart..."

idia looked down as he walked, the other teenager just a few steps behind him. "s-so, how was the exam?" idia muttered out, pulling his phone out and checking for any calls or messages. "painfully long, i wanted to ask you something but i forgot... if only i sat next to you ... could've passed you a note."

"ah, yeah... as soon as i get home and see ortho, i can get on (game)... you can join me if you want..." idia suggested, finally looking up from his phone to see (name), who had now began walking beside him. "oh yeah? that'd be cool!"

small talk filled the silence between the two as they walked home in the warm afternoon. as soon as idia got home, of course after dropping (name) off at their house, he dropped everything. rushing around to find ortho was probably the fastest idia has ever moved in his life, and he found ortho napping on the couch as some cartoon played on the tv.

idia sighed with relief and pulled out his phone once more. before he could log onto (game), he had to listen to his favorite artist's new single. his headphones were in his backpack, which he didn't remember putting in there instead of around his neck, but that was a trivial detail. idia went back to where he threw his bag and opened it up ... to find an extra energy drink.

'to idia,

you can have this drink too. i don't drink this kind... oh also, wanna hang out tomorrow? i'm free and you should be as well... it's okay if you can't, but i'd love too. lmk your response, ids ! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ'

the sticky note read, making idia cock an eyebrow. hangout tomorrow... sounds fun... WAIT? never once has idia shroud THOUGHT THAT A HANG OUT SOUNDED FUN. were these even his own thoughts!?

idia short circuited for a bit before smiling and grabbing his headphones, setting the drink with the note on a nearby table. he pulled out his phone, plugging in his headphones while he had it, and typed a response back to the note's author.

idia [2:55 pm]

'sticky note on a drink? how cliché lol... but sure. let's hang out tomorrow.'

authors note? god damn this took so much longer than it should've... that's okay though!! it's done now!! (watch me disappear for another month) school has taken a lot of my energy and time and effort but we UP now!!! i'm excited to wrap this story up ... (5 chapters left. Aughhhh.) because i wanna write a new one about the 1920's (VERY INTO THAT DECADE AS RECENTLY.)

i hope my tired ramblings of the majority of this chapter made sense and were interesting enough to not make you wanna watch paint dry!! time for aquz to sleep ~ bye bye and thanks for reading!

[fluffabutt]

Decided to write another yandere prompt

Thank you @bellafragolina and @wertello for letting me bounce ideas off you

Gender Neutral Reader x Nanu/Guzma

More of a guess to see which one is the yandere, and this boy is long

assault and implied stalking

You walk down Route 17 in the pouring rain, when you walk into the Pokémart your sneakers squeak with every step as you walk towards the back room.

You lock up your stuff, and put on your apron, switch out with Cayden who looks at her student portal with such dread you don’t give her any grief when she forgets to log out of the cash register.

You look out the window to the one or two desolate street lamps you can see standing as little beacons home. Almost pitch black like the bottom of the ocean it feels like, and you won’t see the sunrise for another 8 hours.

You tell Cayden have a good night as her sneakers squeal in the wet tracks you left on the floor. You log into the cash register, and as you grab the mop and bucket punch into work.

This is the routine you’ve grown accustomed to for the past few weeks.

You’ll be here tonight.

And the night after that.

And the night after that.

For how ever long it takes you to save enough money to move off Ula Ula Island.

——————————————————————-

You get into the rhythm of cleaning the floors, some hokey country song about youth and friendship and pie plays over the store speaker system. You wish the owner would just spend the money to buy an official music service, if only because you realize you’re almost fond of how terrible it is.

You hear a thumping sound from the windows that damn near causes your heart to leap out your throat, but you turn to see your regular idiot Masquerain bashing it’s head against the flood lights on the exterior of the building.

So you sigh, roll the mop back into its place, grab the wet floor sigh and the push broom and start to walk outside.

You put the sign up and then walk out into the humid, muggy rain.

“Hey! Dumb Bug!” You say, pushing at the Masquerain with your broom under the extended roof so it’s wings don’t get any wetter than they already have.

The poor thing cries and whines until you turn on the portable lamp you hung there for it to mash it’s head against.

You just sigh before walking back inside, you have no idea how that idiot gets stuck here almost every night, but you don’t mind if that’s the only returning customer.

Route 17 doesn’t get a lot of trainers this time of night, and you’re thankful even though your ankles are already aching by the second hour. The owner doesn’t allow you to sit at the cash register so you patiently set an alarm on your Rotomphone for an hour and half from now for your break.

The sound of pounding feet run up from outside as you see a small cluster of Team Skull members burst in from outside with the chime of the automatic door. They keep their mumbled complaints to themselves as they look at you.

You just give them a wave while you check social media on your Rotomphone. You were paid to mind the store, and you could mind your business for free.

Team Skull was part of the reason you never saw trainers much less regular schmoes around route 17, it was their turf.

You didn’t understand the hype, a bunch of kids trying to rap at you wasn’t intimidating in your opinion. Even when the beatboxer was steady most of them still couldn’t rap on beat.

So you idly tap at your phone while they shuffle around through the aisles, arguing over chip flavors and candy bars. Your heart hurts a little when one quickly shuts down that argument with a “What’s the point? We can’t buy it anyway!”

You look up at the chime of the automatic door, and try to put on your customer service smile when you see it’s an adult.

You see a hunched over guy in what looks to be his mid 50s, grey hair matted down from the rain when he closed his umbrella. But it’s his eyes, and the dead stare he levels at you that gives you a sudden feeling of anxiety.

It’s broken when he looks away with a click of his tongue as he walks toward the Pokéfood section of the store.

You place a hand over your heart to try and calm down when you realize how quiet the teens have gotten since the guy walked in. They watch him with caution, a respect you haven’t seen them give to anyone.

You realize you don’t get paid enough to focus on that.

Even if the sound of his sandals clopping on the wet tile drive you crazy.

The ring leader of this small pack walks up to the register with purpose, and slaps down some 100 pokedollar hot dogs that you ring up. It’s some hushed arguing of who’s got how much while you stare blankly thinking of what your “dinner” is tonight, until they pool the total together with spare coins.

You pop the register, drop the coins into the necessary slot, and give the expected “Thank you for shopping at Pokémart” as they run back into the rain and up to Po Town… you assume.

Your guy ambles around for another 10 or so minutes hemming and hawing about the prices of the wet food cans and then walking to the front.

He plops about 10 cans of food on the counter and you start to scan them while he pulls out his wallet.

“Oh, and one pack of the Motostoke Reds.”

You give an affirmative noise and turn to pull a pack off the shelf. It’s when you turn back that you’re stuck with his very intense stare.

Like he’s expecting something.

What that could be you don’t know.

You just push the barcode under the scanner and tell him the total.

Outside of the grunts and young trainers, nobody really pays in cash anymore, so you’re surprised when he flips through a large wad of bills to pay with.

His tongue sticks out while he concentrates and hums the count.

You take the cash from him, pulling up the coins that you owe before dropping them into his open palm with his receipt.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, have a good evening.” You say, rehearsed and robotic.

“Uh-huh.” He drawls, and finally walks out of the Pokémart, his sandals clacking against the tile as he leaves.

You just breathe a sigh of relief when he disappears back into the rain with a… Meowth umbrella??

It’s a super cute umbrella pattern. You want it.

Next paycheck.

The evening goes by uneventfully, mop the floor again, give the Dumb Bug a berry when you take your meal break.

You take out the garbage around five am when there’s just enough light to see and the rain has finally stopped.

You see a couple cigarette butts and grumble under your breath, but clean them up anyway.

The owner comes in at 6 and you clock out.

——————————————————————————-

Another day, another night.

Same old same old.

Except for your old dude buying cigarettes once a week.

The times he walks in are sporadic but at least he tends to avoid coming in on your meal break. Same thing every time: wet food, pack of Motostoke Reds.

Except tonight he grabs some prepackaged Basculin rice balls.

You don’t know why that spurs you to actually talk to this guy.

“Oh, those are super good.” You keep ringing up the wet food cans.

He looks shocked at your voice but he gives you an appraising look.

“Is that so?” He trails off.

“Yeah, they’re pretty solid.”

He hums contemplatively, before you ring up his total and you give him back his change.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, have a good evening.”

He gives you a smile, though it’s more of a shitty grin.

“You too.”

Then he and his clopping sandals walk out the door and into the night.

——————————————————————

You get a surprise visitor that week, a tall dude with bleached white hair and tats struts up to the cash register. It would’ve been more intimidating if he wasn’t soaked to the bone and his sneakers weren’t speaking with every step.

And you’re gonna have to fucking mop. Again.

He slaps his hand on the counter, and of course you jump because why the fuck is this guy trying to pick a fight at 2:20 in the morning.

“Gimme a pack of Motostoke Reds.” He orders gruffly.

You take a deep breath and grab the pack from the shelves, you scan the barcode and tell him the total.

He mutters under his breath some obscenities about how expensive cigarettes are getting and how bullshit it is as he rummages through crumpled up bills from his pockets.

You don’t get paid enough for this.

You notice he sticks his tongue out while he counts the money.

Huh.

“Hey!” He barks, your eyes dart up to his face. “You got any of those Basculin rice balls today?”

You nod.

You both stand there, silence.

What does this guy expect? You don’t get paid to go fetch, you get paid to stand here damn near all night.

“Over in the back over by the premade sandwiches,” you almost forget your retail politeness,” sir.”

He’s got a vein bulging in his forehead before he stomps to the back over by the sandwiches. Muttering fuck word after fuck word.

You think about your account balance, and sigh.

You pray to Arceus this guy fucks off and never comes back.

He slaps the rice balls on the counter and you give him the new total.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, have a good evening.”

“Yeah yeah whatever.” He says shoving his purchase and his change into his pockets before stomping off into the rain.

Asshole.

You find even more soggy cigarette butts outside when you take out the trash.

—————————————————————-

The Asshole and The Old Dude pop in intermittently, along with different clusters of Team Skull members. Very rarely you get a couple of older trainers, veterans and martial artists who find some satisfaction in almost catching hypothermia from standing in the rain all night.

You make polite conversation with The Old Dude and the trainers that come in.

Every so often The Asshole walks in and asks for some bizarre food item, a rice ball, and his cigarettes. It’s starting to become satisfying to just tell him where to find it, since he still expects you to go get it for him.

His squeaky sneakers and sopping wet hair only make him look like a grumpy toddler.

You get more and more trainers coming in though, which keeps the nights busy even if you have to mop so much more often with all the water being tracked in.

You still hook up Dumb Bug with its lamp and a berry.

You still take your meal break at 3:30am.

You still take out the trash to find soggy cigarette butts, but this time there seems to be a collaborative art project because they’re leaving them in shapes.

You don’t think it’s one person, there’s more cigarettes here than in just a single pack of the stuff.

But you don’t stop the “Mother Fucker” you bark when you have to get the broom and dust trap to scrape them up off the sidewalk.

——————————————————

The new influx of trainers typically dies down around 1am.

But tonight seems to be dragging.

Your card reader malfunctions, so you have to hand write a post-it note to stick on the reader.

Cash Only.

Doesn’t mean that grown adults know how to fucking read apparently.

Yes, the card reader is down.

No, I can’t take any card transactions.

You’re almost pulling your hair out by the time a customer walks up to the counter and throws a fit.

The Asshole was an asshole, but this guy is the fucking King Asshole. Asshole to end all assholes, waving his hands like if he throws his shoulders out of socket you’ll get the card reader working.

“Sir, either you use cash to complete your purchase or leave, I can’t fix it-“

“This is un-fucking believable! This is the new kind of low The Pokémart brand has sunk to?!”

“Sir, you’ll have to wait to buy until the morning with your card when the owner comes in to reset it. I don’t know what else to tell you-“

“FIX THE FUCKING CARD READER!”

You typically are fighting the best of a migraine with the shitty fluorescent lights, now your ears are ringing with how loud he’s yelling.

“Oi. You buying this shit or not?!”

Oh great.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you look past King Asshole to The Asshole looming behind him.

Good. Two assholes.

“I-I-“ King Asshole tries to get some traction to start his impassioned tirade like a pull motor.

“No? Get the fuck outta my way then.”

At least The Asshole isn’t yelling.

God damn does your head hurt.

“Oi!” The Asshole speaks up, snapping his fingers obnoxiously to get your attention. It seems King Asshole has left, and all of his purchase is on the counter.

Nice.

“Oh, yeah,” you blink to give yourself a quick reset before you start scanning The Asshole’s items.

There’s a heavy silence as The Asshole scowls and shuffles his feet before he opens up his mouth when you turn to grab his cigarettes.

“You okay?” He says gruffly, though with a pinch of softness you’ve never heard before. It doesn’t help the tears bubbling in the corners of your eyes.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You say, your voice cracking on the “yeah”, and you’re so fucking frustrated.

He just clicks his tongue and starts counting out his wadded up balls of bills.

You scan his cigarettes, and read him the total.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, have a nice night.” You plop the change and his receipt in his hand.

He looks at you and you feel just so drained you just stare back. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but he turns around and squeaks back into the dark with the little automatic chime.

You walk to the back to take your break early, sighing and softly dabbing at your eyes while you eat your sandwich.

Fuck man, just a couple more weeks.

You just needed a couple more paychecks, and then you can leave and get away from this place.

———————————————————————

You find your cigarette savant has put a smiley face design today.

You mutter a quick, “fuck off” to nothing as you scrape it off the sidewalk.

The back of your neck aches. Like a weight settling there.

———————————————————————

You don’t see King Asshole, thank Arceus, but you run into rude customers occasionally. Aside from The Asshole.

You’d noticed a couple of blocked off areas, but you thought it was construction or something. The owner put a Pokémart on Route 17, there was probably some other developer willing to be stupid enough to build something else here.

Cayden is clocking out when she looks up from her Rotomphone and taps your shoulder.

“Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” You put on your apron.

“A couple of people have been getting attacked on the way back from the Pokémart.”

“No shit?”

“You didn’t notice the caution tape?” She gives you a look, but you just roll your eyes.

“I saw the tape, I just thought it was construction.”

“Who’d build anything out here- ah shit nevermind. But! Either way, be safe out!”

You clock in and meet her eyes. You feel a little floaty feeling in your stomach.

“You think it’s Team Skull?”

She sighs as she pulls out her stuff from the locker. Looking up trying to remember something.

“Nah, they have been pretty quiet since the whole Aether Island stuff. I think I read something about the victims said it was only one person.”

Oh good. Great. Fantastic.

“Cool I’m probably gonna get murdered after standing around here all night.”

“Probably,” she says with a snarky tone.

You put away your stuff and lock it up but you hear a quiet thump of the cash register counter and look in that direction.

Cayden gives you a serious look, you’ve never seen so much trepidation on her face outside of an exam or a paper. You feel your gut churn.

“Be careful okay?”

You swallow, and clench your hands to ground yourself.

“You too.”

——————————————————————

You scroll more on your Rotomphone than usual, trying to just pass the time out of your own head so you don’t flinch and look at whoever walks into the store with complete fear.

Even the thumping Dumb Bug does has you on edge. But it seems the Masquerain can sense your nerves after you walk out to turn their lamp on, because they flap over and nuzzle your face before they continue their bizarre little lamp dance.

You feel a little bit of tension ease, but you try to keep yourself busy nonetheless. When the last of the late night crowd dissipates you just stand with your nerves going haywire at the register.

It’s just you, the hum of the fluorescents, and the darkness outside. At least it isn’t raining.

Fuck.

Old Dude walks in today, and you’re almost relaxed listening to the clip clop of his flip flops against the tile. Even with the shitty country song playing over the loud speakers.

He brings his spoils over to the counter and you ring him up like usual.

“You seem tense.”

You were so startled, you almost drop the wet food can you scanned.

“Huh?” You look at him.

“I said,” he drawls. “You look tense.”

“Oh,” you let out a nervous laugh, and turn to get his Motostoke Reds. “Yeah, did you hear about the attacks lately?”

“Attacks?” He arches a very thick brow at you. Ugh you don’t want to talk about this anymore.

“Yeah, my coworker said people were getting attacked on the road back to Ula Ula Meadow. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Hm, that’s… unusual.”

“Yeah,” you say, the awkwardness makes you want to get out of this conversation so you can go back to standing at the register and panicking to yourself.

“Thank you for shopping at Pokémart, stay safe.” You say, change and receipt placed onto his open palm.

“You too. Oh, if you need any help,” he pauses standing in the doorway. Your interest firmly captured on him. “There’s always the police station up the road.”

You’d forgotten about that, mostly because you didn’t have any business walking towards Po Town at all.

“Uh, sure. Thanks mister.”

“Oh, you don’t know who I am do you?” He seems to give you that smug smirk. Though you wonder if he just seems to not know how to smile properly.

“Uh the dude who buys wet food and Motostoke Reds?” You say, your shoulders rising with a shrug.

“Yeah… we’ll go with that.” He says with a chuckle as he walks out.

“Oh… okay. Cool.”

What the fuck was that about? You sigh and count to ten before going back on Pokégram to watch shorts to focus on.

Even if you can’t seem to shake the feeling something is watching you.

—————————————————————————

Your shift ends with a heart made of cigarettes butts.

It makes you queasy.

——————————————————————-

The Old Dude and The Asshole visit more frequently.

The Old Dude seems to have fun forcing you into polite conversation. Talking about the frequency of attacks on the road, and you’re pretty sure it’s just to make you squirm.

He always smirks when he gets a reaction out of you. And your stomach drops every time.

The fucker seems to revel in watching goosebumps run up your arms.

And you’re almost thankful to see the asshole, until he starts to intimidate other customers in the line.

Any bad manners from customers are met with him loudly complaining about how they’re wasting his time to get them to hurry up. Only to… just awkwardly try to make conversation with you.

“Oi.”

“Yes sir?”

“Fuckin’, the weather…”

You just look at him, blinking. My brother in Arceus, what were you supposed to say?

“Yeah, it’s not raining tonight.”

“Yeah…”

Weeks of that.

Weeks.

Of the two of them coming in almost every night, to get the same stuff. To trap you in the same circling conversations.

It was sick.

The anxiety they were giving you left you barely able to eat.

You put in your two weeks notice quietly to the owner, tired of feeling like a Rattata being hunted by Meowths, counting down the days until you could leave.

For weeks the feeling of eyes on you at all times doesn’t leave until you go home after your shift.

————————————————————

You clock into your shift, getting a hug from Cayden before she leaves wishing you luck with your fresh start.

You go through the usual routine of the crowd, ignoring the bids for attention from The Old Dude. He just quirked an eyebrow before leisurely strolling back out the door.

And you turned the lamp on one last time for Dumb Bug. There wasn’t anybody on the route path, so you just sat and reminisced with the fluttering insect Pokemon. It wasn’t until you got up to go back inside that Dum Bug acknowledged you.

By grabbing your shirt sleeve with its delicate little grippers.

“Hey bud, it’ll be okay, the next person on Night Shift will be nice to you. Just don’t get hurt flying around in the rain okay?”

The bug just grabbed onto your shirt even further settling onto your shoulder. This dumb fucking bug and your dumb fucking heart so full of love.

“What fucking pair you two make.”

Ah. The Asshole.

You turn, putting on your retail smile to acknowledge him.

“Oh my apologies sir, I will ring you up at the counter, please give me a moment.”

“‘S fine- you’ve been building a bond with ‘er for a while yeah?”

You feel your heart stop.

You put your hand over your Rotomphone in your pocket.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of bad guy, ey?”

You feel like you’re gonna throw up.

“Look just, alright lemme explain.” He says taking a step towards you.

You realize now how tall he is. How bulky he is.

How easily he could hurt somebody.

How blind you’ve been to the obvious.

The fucking skull pendant on the chain around his neck.

You never noticed.

“Hey,” he says and you hear a loud whine as your breathing picks up. “Woah wait don’t-“

Your Dumb Bug flaps quickly in front of you and oscillates it’s wings to unleash a horrible loud whine that has The Asshole clutching his ears with you.

Dumb Bug pulls you in the direction of your home but Asshole quickly steps to the side while getting his bearings to cut you off.

So you pivot: the Old Guy had told you there was a Police Station up the road right?

That’s where you run to.

“HEY! WAIT- agh, FUCK GET BACK HERE DAMMIT LEMME EXPLAIN!” He shouts after you, and you feel tears start to well up and run down your cheeks as you haul yourself up the hill.

Dumb Bug tries to chirp to cheer you on, especially when you can hear Asshole catching up with you. You let out the loudest scream you can before you’re cut off by him grabbing your collar and choking you.

You kick and jerk away from him as he pulls you close. He grunts when you manage to catch his shins and land a hit to his nose with a lucky flail.

Dumb Bug tries to start up another loud screech but Asshole holds you against him like a meat shield and your sweet little Masquerain clearly doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s got your arms caught behind you while you howl and scream for help.

“Gah-fuck! You couldn’t just- stop moving-“ he jerks you roughly enough to make your shoulders pop and you yelp at the pain. “Look all you had to do was let me explain-“

“Explain what?! How you fucking stalked me?!” You shriek, still fighting against his grip while he pushes you steadily up the hill towards the police station.

“Look I wasn’t stalkin’ ya- you weren’t being secretive about it!”

“And now you’re fucking assaulting me!”

He wrenches you back to yell in your ear.

“Because you ran away dumb ass!”

It hurts your ears, and all you can do is struggle and yell for help as he shuffles the both of you up the road. When you see the police station you get a surge of energy.

If you don’t get away from him now- god you don’t want to even think about what he could do to you.

So you lean back and stomp your foot on his toes as hard as you can. He grunts as the grip on your arms loosens when he flinches.

“DUMB BUG NOW!”

You pull forward, and Dumb Bug releases that horrible sound from it’s wings again, thankfully slipping out of Asshole’s grasp and you push one last sprint away towards the Police Station.

You manage to sprint towards the station, the faded white exterior with striped columns standing ominously with a few sconces lit up. Probably on a timer.

You beg to Arceus and the Tapus and whatever else can hear that somebody is in the building.

You slam into the blue doors of the entrance, making the windows rattle. You slam you palms against the door and beg for somebody, anybody to open up.

You hear multiple Meowths hiss and shriek while you pound on the door, begging through tears and gulps of breath for help.

You know Asshole wasn’t going to be distracted forever, that guy was the Leader of Team Skull, he had pokemon.

You left the poor Masquerain with a sicko.

You hope the poor thing was okay.

Eventually the lights turn on inside and you can see the shapes of the office interior through the clouded glass. A figure quickly rushing to the door backlit in shadow.

You heave a sharp gasp of relief as the door opens-

“Oh, thank you please- I’m being chased by-“

“Hey,” it’s his voice that makes you nauseous so quickly you sway on your feet. “Woah, hold on what’s got you so riled up?”

He clasps your shoulders in a firm grip to keep your legs underneath you.

You weren’t specific enough in your pleas for mercy, because the gods had gifted you the old creep as your beacon of hope.

“Oh look at you, you’ve been all roughed up. Scaring the clowder- tch, the boy’s so rough sometimes.”

You wonder if the universe had a specific grudge on you at this point.

“Oi! Guzma!” You look down at the badge on the old guy’s shirt, Police Captain Nanu, it says. You never had the desire to know anything about him before this point.

You were stupidly hoping you could ignore the both of them and leave Ula Ula Island.

“Yeah yeah! I get it-“

“Do you now?” You look into Nanu’s eyes as he speaks with his casual drawl. “Tears and bruises on the arms don’t imply to me that you in fact “Got it”.”

“Oi! They threw the first punch not me! Besides, I was busy grabbing this-“ he holds up your boarding pass for the morning flight out of Ula Ula Island, out of Alola. “Seems they weren’t going to tell us they were leaving.”

That had been in your bag. In your locker.

In the office.

Had he only just gotten to your stuff?

Or had he been rummaging through there this whole time.

Guzma holds Dumb Bug, unconsciously flopping it’s little wings as they jostle with each of his footsteps, and he finally leans down to get close to your face.

“It’s okay though, me and the old geezer ‘ere will make everything crystal clear.” He says with a mean sneer, a wild look in his eyes and you stand there and shake.

“Guzma, enough, we’ve got all night to help them understand. And besides,” Nanu says, his arm curling over your shoulder while Guzma opens the other door to flank you. “You’ve got every day afterward to accept your situation.”

[wardencommander-surana]

Life Shall Go For Life

Read on A03 here. Word count: 2,486 Chapters: 1/1 (for now)

Earthborn Laoise Shepard had no family to speak of - especially not after what happened to the Reds.

Sirens echoed off the walls of the mostly empty warehouse, strobing indicator lights occasionally illuminating scattered stacks of crates. Laoise Shepard covered her ears and scrambled into cover, but the cargo provided little shelter from the sprinklers that let loose overhead, spitting fruitlessly at a non-existent fire.

“Where the fuck is Leo? I’m going to kill him.” She hissed the threat to no one through clenched teeth. This job was supposed to be textbook for the Reds – rescue a group of humans snatched from the Philadelphia alleyways by wannabe slavers, par for the course in the metropolis. Ever since Earth had cemented its status in the intergalactic community two decades ago, cities were rife with human trafficking as the demand for cheap labor now spanned multiple star systems. Families quickly fled to newly established human colonies, leaving those who could not afford the trip off-world behind. Their contact advised an exchange was meant to occur here, about a dozen people intended for a mining operation on another system, but someone tipped their target off. As soon as the Reds crossed the threshold of the depot, all hell broke loose as the slavers opened fire. Now her second-in-command, an older mercenary who called himself Leo, was missing in action when she needed him most.

Suddenly, shots rang out – first one, then the burst of an automatic weapon unloading.

“Leo!”

The echoes made it more difficult to triangulate the location of the gunfire, but Laoise still scrambled to her feet, knuckles turning white around the grip of her pistol as she scanned the room. She shuffled through the pooling water on the warehouse floor, making her way to the main shipping office that was the group’s original rendezvous point. Its door was locked as expected, but the giant observation window overlooking the cargo bay was now shattered to bits, its shards glittering amidst the puddles. As she approached, the sound of voices became noticeable under the blaring of the siren. Laoise ducked beneath the window ledge, squatting with her back pressed against the wall and pistol at the ready as disembodied voices behind her began to argue.

“Your team were supposed to be unarmed. What about ‘pick up civilians’ says, ‘show up fully armed’?”

“Listen, if you knew the shit we usually dealt with on these operations, you’d make sure you can hold your own.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot your whole ‘vigilante’ thing. You couldn’t convince anyone to leave a gun at home today?”

“Have you seen Shepard? Girl doesn’t go anywhere unarmed.” Laoise knew the second voice in an instant – Leo. The bastard. “Besides, you knew the bitch is biotic. You never would’ve stood a chance one-on-one. Best move is to flush the little rat out, force her to retreat, and take what we got. Five healthy bodies’ll fetch us at least a grand – if we patch up the sixth one, maybe another hundo.”

The first voice laughed, but there was no joy. It was hollow and angry, meant to dismiss Leo, to make him feel small. “Cerberus isn’t paying me to adopt your litter of street urchins, McCabe. They want biotics. I’m here for the biotic.” BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. Each gunshot, slow and deliberate, rang out clearly over the din of the fire alarm. Six shots. Six members of the Reds, other than her and Leo. “Now bring me Shepard.”

The office door slid open and Laoise heard two sets of footsteps retreating through the puddles, one set focused and heavy, the second favoring one foot over the other – Leo’s right ankle tended to flare up under stress. After the door shut, she sat for a moment, the sound of the sprinklers and the siren fading into the background like static as the reality of the situation sunk in and the water soaked her clothes.

This was a trap. Their intel was bad. There was no slaver. Leo McCabe betrayed the Reds. Something named Cerberus wanted her. One two three four fix six shots.

Her team.

Laoise winced as she slowly stood – shards of glass ripped through her too-tight jeans, blood mixing with water on the concrete floor. She stepped through the hole previously occupied by the windowpane with her pistol prepared in case Leo or his unnamed companion returned. A brief scan with her omni-tool didn’t reveal any surprises, just a quickly fading mass of hot spots in the corner of the room: the Reds.

They were laid out along the opposite wall, face down and shoulder-to-shoulder, hands tied behind their backs. Each had been shot execution style, a single bullet through the back of their head. Laoise flipped her teammates over one by one while silent tears mixed with dirty water from the sprinkler on her freckled cheeks.

Mitchell. The oldest on their crew, the one they all called “Dad,” whether he liked it or not. She had never met a more impressive engineer – Mitch could fix anything you handed him and always had a smile on his face while doing it. He looked even older now, the grey in his long dark hair and beard obvious even in the still-flashing lights.

Korin. Just enlisted with the Alliance for his eighteenth birthday. His parents died in the First Contact War when both were stationed in Shanxi. Laoise remembered how excited he was to finally get off this rock and make something of himself. His glasses lay askew on his face, one lens completely popped out. She adjusted them over his closed eyes.

Emelie. Too young to be as talented a sniper as she was. Only a year her junior, Emelie quickly became the bad cop to Laoise’s good cop – while the latter preferred to working things out with words, the former never hesitated to pop off a round in a kneecap to get some answers. She and Korin recently started dating, and she was eager to ship off with him as soon as possible.

Imrah. A transplant from some country to the south that Laoise could never remember. She was quiet, hard, always had her right hand on her revolver and her left hand on a hidden blade somewhere. Her wedding ring never left her finger, but she never spoke of a partner. She came to Philly hoping for a better future and got wrapped up trying to do some good for others instead.

Vogel. Always hiding his insecurity behind jokes and tricked-out shotguns. His pockets were filled with ammunition and granola bars, which Laoise came to appreciate. Someone had to make sure the group ate, after all. He was clearly the victim of the first round of gunfire she heard: along with the solitary hole in his head, his chest was ripped open, torn apart by an automatic weapon. Probably Leo’s response to some half-hearted joke made in a desperate attempt to save their hides.

Penny. Laoise told Penny not to come, that it was too risky. She was the baby of the Reds, only fifteen and left behind when her parents fled to the new colonies. They didn’t have the funds to bring her along. The team took her in, promised to keep her safe, and now…

Laoise stood up and stepped back, taking one last look at her now-deceased crew. “I’m so sorry,” she quietly choked out, her throat aching with suppressed sobs. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” When she joined the Reds two years ago, they were petty criminals taking turns warming beds in the city jail, gaining infamy for their virulent anti-alien rhetoric as human kidnappings ramped up. The group splintered with multiple factions referring to themselves by the name; Shepard fighting back ferociously against the questionable reputation other Reds cultivated. Their efforts finally made a dent – they were getting hired for jobs, helpful jobs, the kinds that would only improve life for the humans still on Earth. And now, it was all for nothing.

She muttered a prayer for her friends, unfamiliar words to a being she didn’t quite believe in, begging for them to get the peace they so deserved. Once she felt the deity was satisfied, she turned from the bodies on the floor to finish the Reds’ last job.

“Leo!” Laoise shouted using every ounce of air in her lungs. She aimed her pistol to the ceiling and fired off a few rounds – if he was still in the building, there’s no way he didn’t hear it. “Come on, you motherfucker! Face me!” The sprinklers continued their deluge; the roar of pounding water on concrete was the only sound in the empty warehouse. The buzzer had long since given up its task of alerting non-existent ears to a non-existent emergency. Finally, the rickety metal balcony overhead let out a loud groan behind her. She whipped around, fingering the trigger, and saw Leo watching her from above with a satisfied grin on his heavily scarred face.

He was once Laoise’s go-to guy, an experienced mercenary who chased the woman he loved to Philadelphia and didn’t have the money to follow her off-planet. Leo tried to take down a trafficking ring himself but was instead taken hostage, then rescued by the Reds, which led to him reluctantly joining their cause. Now, he stood over her with the clear advantage and he knew it.

“It’s over, Shepard,” he proclaimed, “your Reds are gone, and I’ve been paid big money to bring you in, especially if you’re still breathing.”

“Not a chance.” She stood stalwart, feet shoulder width apart, pistol pointed right between Leo’s eyes. “I trusted you, Leo. We all did.”

“Trusting anyone on this shitty rock was your first mistake. Why fight so hard for a planet that doesn’t give a fuck about you?”

Rage and biotic energy swirled through Laoise, hot and unfocused. Before she could retort, she was hurtling into him, a glowing mass effect field propelling her to the balcony where the traitor stood. She slammed him against the wall, forearm pressed firmly against his throat, burning it.

“It was never about me.” The two glared at each other, Laoise’s fist raised and crackling with dark energy, Leo’s gloating smirk now a sputtering struggle for breath.

A large crash to their right interrupted the confrontation. The warehouse’s metal door began sliding up on its tracks, gradually revealing the painfully bright high beams of law enforcement vehicles. Laoise shielded her eyes from the light, releasing her grip on Leo. His eyes jumped frantically between Shepard and their interloper – was the money worth it after all? Ultimately, he threw his hands up in defeat and turned to leave.

“You got off lucky this time, Shepard – though you should’ve considered taking your chances with Cerberus. Those look like Alliance trucks.” He disappeared, allowing the darkness between each jarring flash of the emergency light to swallow him whole.

Alliance? It didn’t make sense for those military thugs to be on Earth, let alone in a shitty warehouse in Philadelphia. The sprinklers were now shut off and the depot was quickly filled with scattered conversations and heavy, methodical footfalls through puddles as the soldiers scanned the room. Laoise sat as still as possible, finger hovering over the trigger, now ducked behind the balcony’s guardrail.

“Fill me in, Wilmoth. Why are we here again?” A voice asked, coming through clearly over the din. His tone sounded authoritative but exhausted, as though this was the last item on a very long to-do list.

“Our Cerberus contact gave us intel – they’re looking for biotics, preferably kids. There’s one in a local gang that’s been causing problems for them… and us.” The steps came to a stop barely ten feet away from her, close enough she could hear the first man’s exasperated sigh. “Nothing major, Commander Anderson. Just some flat tires and destroyed recruitment materials.”

“Do we know anything about the target?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“A shame. I hope Cerberus didn’t get them.”

They began to retreat, continuing their discussion. Laoise held her breath and weighed her options. They hadn’t noticed her; if she stayed right here, they wouldn’t see her, and she could get away. But what next? She was alone, no Reds, no friends, just the shoddy little apartment in Center City they shared. The apartment that would be filled floor-to-ceiling with their belongings, reminders they’re no longer around. There was nothing left there for her. There were no other options – just one.

“Excuse me?” She stood, placing her gun down in front of her and holding up both her hands. “Hi. I think they were looking for me.” The Alliance officers eyed her curiously, as though they were still waiting for her ambush from above. After a beat, the older man took a step closer to her. His sharply tailored coat, decorated with glimmering badges, stood out in the sea of flak jackets – the commander himself.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Shepard. Laoise Shepard.”

“And where are your parents, Shepard?”

She scoffed. “Beats me. Not even sure they’re in this star system anymore.” He chuckled at her casual response. Laoise slid off the balcony, landing with a thud by their side. “Who are you?”

“Commander David Anderson, Alliance.” His answer was snappy, practiced. “We’re supposed to be here on a recruiting trip, but we got a little side-tracked when we heard about Cerberus operating in town. You okay?” He gave her a once-over. She squirmed under his stern eye.

“Been better. Mostly just wet, sore.” She couldn’t stop herself from staring at the office beyond him. “He killed my friends.”

Anderson was taken aback but recovered quickly – he silently gestured for his men to examine the office while he guided Laoise in the other direction, a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s never easy.” He sounded genuine. He had experience.

She gave an indignant sniff, not yet open to connecting with the stranger. “Nothing I can do about it now, I guess.” Now that Leo escaped. “So, can I come with you?”

“You want to come with us? How old are you?”

“Seventeen. Well, turning seventeen in April.”

Anderson pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered her request. “So, what? You want to enlist with the Alliance? You’re not old enough yet.”

“I’m biotic, remember? And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go. Or I could just wait here for Cerberus…” Laoise trailed off, rolling her eyes at the commander and pursing her lips. He looked to the ceiling – perhaps wondering what his superiors might say? Maybe he thought she was more trouble than she was worth. After what felt like eternity, he let out a long exhale.

“You make a fine point, Shepard,” Anderson conceded. “Welcome aboard.” He extended his right hand, which she gladly grasped with both of hers and gave an enthusiastic shake.

“Pleasure doing business, sir.” A wicked grin crossed her face – one Commander Anderson would come to know all too well.

[glennriley49]

The Watchers Complex

A short ghost/cosmic horror story by Glennis

Jake fumbled with his keys, struggling to balance the last box of his belongings while unlocking the door to his new apartment. The smart lock beeped cheerfully, a stark contrast to his weary mood. As he stepped inside, the lights automatically flickered to life, illuminating the sleek, modern space he now called home.

"Welcome home, Jake," the apartment's AI assistant chimed. "Would you like me to adjust the temperature?"

"No thanks," Jake muttered, setting down the box with a heavy thud. He gazed around the empty living room, devoid of the warmth and memories that had filled his old place. But those memories were tainted now, poisoned by the bitter end of his relationship with Sarah.

Jake shook his head, trying to dispel thoughts of his ex. This move was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to leave the pain behind and begin anew. The Nexus Apartments promised cutting-edge technology and unparalleled security – the perfect place to lose himself in work and forget about his heartache.

As he began unpacking, Jake's phone buzzed with a notification. It was a message from the building's management:

"Welcome to Nexus Apartments! As our resident security consultant, you now have access to the complex's camera feeds. Please review the system at your earliest convenience."

Jake sighed, remembering the agreement he'd made with the management. In exchange for a significant discount on rent, he'd agreed to help set up and monitor the building's state-of-the-art security system. It had seemed like a good idea at the time – a distraction from his personal life and a chance to put his skills to use.

After a few hours of halfhearted unpacking, Jake decided to take a break and check out the security system. He booted up his laptop and logged into the building's network, bringing up a grid of camera feeds from around the complex.

The system was impressive, with high-definition cameras covering every angle of the building's exterior and common areas. Jake flicked through the feeds, familiarizing himself with the layout. As he watched, he noticed a flicker of movement in one of the hallway cameras.

Leaning closer, Jake squinted at the screen. For a moment, he thought he saw a dark shape dart across the frame, but when he rewound the footage, there was nothing there. He rubbed his eyes, chalking it up to fatigue from the move.

"Just tired," he muttered to himself. "Time to call it a night."

As Jake settled into bed, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had crept over him. The apartment felt too quiet, too sterile. He tossed and turned, eventually drifting into a fitful sleep.

In the early hours of the morning, Jake was jolted awake by a piercing scream. He sat bolt upright, heart racing, before realizing it had come from outside. Rushing to the window, he peered down at the street below, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Shaken, Jake decided to check the security feeds. He pulled up the exterior cameras, rewinding to a few minutes earlier. At first, he saw nothing unusual, but then a flash of movement caught his eye. He paused the footage, zooming in on a shadowy figure near the building's entrance.

The image was grainy and distorted, but Jake could make out what looked like a woman in a long, flowing dress. Her face was obscured, but there was something off about her posture – almost as if she were floating rather than standing.

As Jake watched, the figure seemed to flicker and disappear, like a faulty hologram. He blinked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. When he looked back at the screen, the figure was gone.

"What the hell?" Jake muttered, rewinding the footage again. But no matter how many times he replayed it, he couldn't find any trace of the mysterious woman.

Unnerved, Jake decided to head down to the lobby to investigate. The hallway outside his apartment was eerily quiet, the smart lighting dimmed to a soft glow. As he approached the elevator, Jake felt a sudden chill, as if a cold breeze had swept through the corridor.

The elevator arrived with a cheerful ding, but as Jake stepped inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone – or something – was watching him. He turned, half-expecting to see a figure lurking in the shadows, but the hallway remained empty.

In the lobby, Jake found no sign of disturbance. The night security guard, a middle-aged man named Frank, looked up from his crossword puzzle with mild interest.

"Everything alright, Mr. Chen?" Frank asked, setting aside his pen.

Jake hesitated, unsure how to explain what he'd seen. "Did you hear anything unusual a little while ago? Maybe a scream?"

Frank furrowed his brow, shaking his head. "Can't say that I did. It's been quiet as a tomb down here all night."

Jake suppressed a shiver at Frank's choice of words. "And you haven't seen anyone coming or going in the last hour or so?"

"Nope," Frank replied, glancing at the lobby's security monitors. "Just you. Why do you ask?"

Jake debated whether to mention the strange figure he'd seen on the cameras, but decided against it. He didn't want to sound crazy on his first night in the building.

"No reason," he said, forcing a smile. "Just thought I heard something. Must have been dreaming."

As Jake headed back to his apartment, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. The building seemed different somehow – colder, more oppressive. As he passed by the other apartments, he could have sworn he heard muffled whispers and the sound of shuffling feet behind closed doors.

Back in his own unit, Jake pulled up the security feeds again, determined to find some explanation for what he'd seen. He spent hours poring over the footage, but found nothing concrete – just fleeting shadows and inexplicable glitches in the video.

As dawn broke, Jake finally gave up and collapsed into bed, his mind racing with possibilities. He drifted into an uneasy sleep, plagued by dreams of dark figures and echoing screams.

The next few days passed in a blur of unpacking and settling in. Jake threw himself into his work, both his day job as a software engineer and his duties as the building's security consultant. He told himself that the incident on his first night had been nothing more than a combination of stress and an overactive imagination.

But as the week wore on, Jake couldn't ignore the growing sense of unease that permeated the building. Other tenants began to complain of strange noises in the night – scratching sounds in the walls, whispers in empty rooms, and the sensation of being watched.

Jake did his best to reassure them, chalking it up to the quirks of a new building and overly sensitive smart home systems. But privately, he was becoming more and more concerned. The security cameras continued to pick up anomalies – fleeting shadows, unexplained temperature drops, and occasional glitches that seemed to obscure entire sections of the building.

One evening, as Jake was reviewing the day's footage, he noticed something that made his blood run cold. In one of the hallway cameras, he saw a familiar figure – the woman in the flowing dress he'd glimpsed on his first night. This time, the image was clearer, and Jake could make out more details.

The woman's dress was old-fashioned, reminiscent of Victorian-era clothing. Her long, dark hair obscured most of her face, but what Jake could see looked pale and gaunt. As he watched, the woman turned slowly, seeming to look directly into the camera. Jake felt a chill run down his spine as he realized her eyes were completely black, like empty sockets.

Just as he was about to call building security, Jake's phone rang, startling him. It was Lisa, one of his neighbors from down the hall.

"Jake?" Lisa's voice was trembling. "I'm sorry to bother you, but something really weird is happening in my apartment. The lights keep flickering, and I swear I can hear someone whispering, but there's no one here. Can you come check it out?"

Jake hesitated, glancing back at the frozen image of the ghostly woman on his screen. "Sure, Lisa. I'll be right there."

He grabbed a flashlight and hurried down the hall to Lisa's apartment. As he approached, he noticed the temperature seemed to drop dramatically. His breath fogged in the air as he knocked on Lisa's door.

The door creaked open, revealing Lisa's pale, frightened face. "Thank god you're here," she said, ushering him inside. "It's gotten worse in the last few minutes."

Jake stepped into the apartment, immediately noticing the oppressive atmosphere. The air felt thick and heavy, and there was a faint smell of decay that made his stomach turn.

"Have you called building maintenance?" Jake asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Lisa nodded. "They said they'd send someone up, but that was an hour ago. No one's come."

As if on cue, the lights in the apartment began to flicker wildly. Jake heard a low, guttural moan that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Lisa let out a terrified whimper, clutching Jake's arm.

"We need to get out of here," Jake said, pulling Lisa towards the door. But as they reached for the handle, it began to rattle violently, as if someone – or something – was trying to force its way in.

Jake and Lisa backed away, their hearts racing. The temperature in the room plummeted, their breath coming out in visible puffs. The moaning grew louder, and Jake could have sworn he heard his name being called in a raspy, inhuman voice.

Suddenly, the lights went out completely, plunging them into darkness. Jake fumbled for his flashlight, his hands shaking as he switched it on. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating a horrifying sight.

Standing in the corner of the room was the woman from the security footage. Up close, Jake could see that her skin was a sickly gray color, her flesh seeming to rot and slough off in places. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream, revealing rows of sharp, blackened teeth.

Lisa let out a blood-curdling shriek, and Jake felt his own throat constrict with terror. He grabbed Lisa's hand and bolted for the door, which mercifully opened this time. They ran down the hallway, the sound of shuffling footsteps echoing behind them.

As they reached the elevator, Jake risked a glance back. The hallway was empty, but he could have sworn he saw a dark shape lingering at the edge of his vision. The elevator arrived with a ding that seemed obscenely cheerful given the circumstances.

Once inside, Jake jabbed the button for the lobby repeatedly, willing the doors to close faster. As the elevator began its descent, he turned to Lisa, who was shaking uncontrollably.

"What the hell was that?" she whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

Jake shook his head, struggling to find words. "I don't know. But we need to get out of this building. Now."

When they reached the lobby, they found it deserted. The security desk was empty, Frank nowhere to be seen. Jake led Lisa outside, where they huddled on a bench, trying to catch their breath and make sense of what had happened.

"We should call the police," Lisa said, her voice still trembling.

Jake nodded, pulling out his phone. But as he dialed 911, he realized with growing horror that there was no signal. He looked up at Lisa, who was checking her own phone with increasing panic.

"No service," she said, her face pale in the glow of the streetlights.

Jake stood up, looking around desperately for help. The street was eerily empty, no cars or pedestrians in sight. Even the neighboring buildings seemed dark and lifeless.

"This is impossible," Jake muttered. "We're in the middle of the city. There should be people everywhere."

As they debated what to do next, a blood-curdling scream echoed from inside the Nexus Apartments. Jake and Lisa exchanged horrified glances before Jake made a decision.

"We need to go back in," he said grimly. "There are other people in there. We can't just leave them."

Lisa shook her head vehemently. "Are you crazy? We barely made it out alive!"

"I know," Jake said, understanding her fear all too well. "But I'm the building's security consultant. I have a responsibility to the other tenants. You don't have to come with me, but I have to try to help."

Lisa hesitated for a moment before squaring her shoulders. "No, you're right. We can't abandon everyone else. But we need a plan."

Jake nodded, thinking quickly. "Okay, here's what we'll do. We'll go to the security office first. There are weapons there – tasers, at least. And we can use the building-wide intercom to warn everyone."

With a deep breath, Jake and Lisa re-entered the Nexus Apartments. The lobby was still deserted, the only sound the quiet hum of the smart building's systems. They made their way to the security office, Jake using his access code to get inside.

The office was in disarray, papers scattered across the floor and chairs overturned. There was no sign of Frank or any other security personnel. Jake quickly located the weapons locker, distributing tasers and flashlights to Lisa and himself.

As Jake booted up the main security terminal, Lisa kept watch at the door. The system came online, displaying the grid of camera feeds Jake had become all too familiar with. But now, many of the feeds were dark or filled with static.

"This is bad," Jake muttered, typing furiously as he tried to restore the system. "It's like something is interfering with the cameras."

Suddenly, one of the feeds flickered to life, showing a corridor on the fifth floor. Jake and Lisa leaned in, watching in horror as a group of shadowy figures moved across the screen. They seemed to be dragging something – or someone.

"Oh god," Lisa whispered. "What are those things?"

Before Jake could respond, the building's intercom system crackled to life. A garbled voice filled the air, the words barely discernible through the static:

"Jake Chen... We've been waiting for you... Join us..."

Jake felt a chill run down his spine as he recognized the voice – it was Sarah, his ex-girlfriend. But that was impossible. Sarah was hundreds of miles away, and the voice had an otherworldly quality that made his skin crawl.

"This can't be happening," Jake said, his voice shaking. "It has to be some kind of trick."

Lisa grabbed his arm, her eyes wide with fear. "Jake, we need to get out of here. Now."

But as they turned to leave, they found their path blocked. Standing in the doorway was Frank, the night security guard. His skin was pale and waxy, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

"You shouldn't have come back, Mr. Chen," Frank said, his voice flat and emotionless. "Now you'll have to join us. All of you."

Jake raised his taser, pointing it at Frank. "Stay back! What's going on here, Frank? What happened to you?"

Frank took a shambling step forward, a grotesque smile spreading across his face. "I've been enlightened, Mr. Chen. The Watchers have shown me the truth. They can show you too, if you'll just let them in."

As Frank lunged forward, Jake fired the taser. The electrodes hit Frank square in the chest, but he didn't even flinch. Instead, his body seemed to flicker and distort, like a glitching hologram.

"Run!" Jake yelled, grabbing Lisa's hand and pushing past Frank. They sprinted down the hallway, the sound of shuffling footsteps close behind.

As they ran, Jake's mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. The Watchers? Who or what were they? And how was Sarah involved in all of this?

They reached the stairwell, opting for stairs over the potentially trapped elevator. As they climbed, Jake could hear the sounds of chaos echoing through the building – screams, crashes, and that same unearthly moaning they'd heard in Lisa's apartment.

"We need to warn the others," Jake panted as they reached the third floor landing. "There has to be a way to get everyone out."

Lisa nodded, struggling to catch her breath. "Maybe we can trigger the fire alarm? That would at least alert the authorities."

It was a good idea, but as Jake reached for the nearest fire alarm, he hesitated. Something told him that conventional means of escape might not work in this situation. Whatever was happening in the Nexus Apartments seemed to defy the laws of reality.

Before Jake could voice his concerns, a piercing shriek filled the air. Looking up, they saw a figure leaning over the railing several floors above. It was the woman in the Victorian dress, her long hair hanging down like a curtain of shadows.

"Oh god," Lisa whimpered, pressing herself against the wall.

The ghostly woman began to descend, not by walking down the stairs, but by crawling along the walls like some monstrous insect. Her head twisted at an impossible angle, black eyes fixed on Jake and Lisa.

"Keep going!" Jake yelled, pushing Lisa ahead of him. They burst through the door onto the third floor, running down the hallway in a blind panic.

As they ran, doors began to open along the corridor. Pale, twisted faces peered out – their neighbors, but changed into something inhuman and horrifying. Hands reached out to grab at them, voices calling their names in a grotesque chorus.

Jake and Lisa dodged the grasping hands, their hearts pounding as they searched for an escape route. At the end of the hallway, Jake spotted a maintenance door that led to the building's exterior fire escape.

"There!" he shouted, pointing. They sprinted towards the door, the sounds of shuffling feet and inhuman moans growing louder behind them.

Jake fumbled with his key card, praying that his security access would work. For a heart-stopping moment, the lock blinked red, but then it flashed green with a reassuring beep. They burst through the door onto the metal landing of the fire escape, slamming it shut behind them.

The cool night air was a shock after the oppressive atmosphere inside, but they had no time to catch their breath. Jake could hear pounding on the other side of the door, the metal beginning to buckle under some immense force.

"Down!" Jake yelled, urging Lisa onto the stairs. They clattered down the metal steps, the entire structure shaking ominously beneath their feet.

As they reached the second-floor landing, Jake heard a terrible screeching sound from above. He looked up to see the maintenance door torn from its hinges, a mass of writhing shadows pouring out onto the fire escape.

"Keep going!" Jake shouted to Lisa, who was frozen in terror at the sight. He practically pushed her down the last flight of stairs, the two of them jumping the last few feet to the alley below.

They ran out onto the street, expecting to find help or at least other people fleeing the building. Instead, they were met with an impossible sight. The busy city street they had walked down just hours ago was gone, replaced by a foggy, desolate landscape. The buildings around them looked ancient and decrepit, as if centuries had passed in the blink of an eye.

"What... what happened?" Lisa whispered, her voice trembling. "Where are we?"

Jake shook his head, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. "I don't know. It's like we've stepped into another world."

A cold wind whipped around them, carrying whispers that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Jake strained to make out the words, his blood running cold as he began to understand:

"The Watchers... they see all... they know all... join us, Jake... join us..."

Lisa clutched Jake's arm, her nails digging into his skin. "Jake, what are they talking about? What do they want with you?"

Before Jake could answer, a figure emerged from the fog. His heart nearly stopped as he recognized Sarah, his ex-girlfriend. But this wasn't the Sarah he remembered. Her skin was pale and translucent, her eyes black voids that seemed to swallow all light.

"Hello, Jake," Sarah said, her voice echoing strangely. "We've been waiting for you."

Jake instinctively pushed Lisa behind him, raising the taser with a shaking hand. "Stay back! You're not Sarah. What are you?"

Sarah – or the thing wearing Sarah's face – smiled, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. "Oh, but I am Sarah, Jake. Or at least, what's left of her. The Watchers showed me the truth, just as they wanted to show you."

"What truth?" Jake demanded, trying to keep his voice steady. "What are the Watchers?"

Sarah's form seemed to flicker, like a faulty hologram. "They are the true owners of this world, Jake. They've been watching us, studying us, for millennia. And now, they're ready to reclaim what's theirs."

As she spoke, more figures emerged from the fog. Jake recognized his neighbors, the other tenants of the Nexus Apartments. But like Sarah, they were changed – pale, hollow-eyed versions of themselves.

"You were the final piece," Sarah continued, taking a step closer. "Your work on the security system, your connection to the building's network – it created the perfect conduit for the Watchers to breach our world."

Jake felt a wave of guilt and horror wash over him. Had he inadvertently caused all of this? "No," he said, shaking his head. "This can't be real. It has to be some kind of mass hallucination or-"

His words were cut off as Sarah lunged forward with inhuman speed. Jake fired the taser, but the electrodes passed right through her flickering form. She grabbed his arm, her touch burning cold.

"Let him go!" Lisa shouted, swinging her flashlight at Sarah's head. But another figure – Jake recognized him as Mr. Patel from the fourth floor – grabbed Lisa from behind.

Jake struggled against Sarah's grip, his mind racing. If what she said was true, if he had somehow been the key to all of this, then maybe he could find a way to undo it.

"The network," he gasped, an idea forming. "If I can shut down the building's systems, maybe it'll sever the connection."

Sarah's grip tightened, her nails digging into his skin. "It's too late for that, Jake. The Watchers are already here. Soon, this entire city will be theirs. And you'll be part of it."

As she spoke, the fog began to thicken, swirling around them in unnatural patterns. Jake could see glimpses of impossible things in the mist – twisted landscapes, writhing tentacles, and eyes. Hundreds of inhuman eyes, all fixed on him.

"No!" Jake shouted, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. He twisted in Sarah's grip, managing to break free. In the same motion, he grabbed Lisa's arm, pulling her away from Mr. Patel's grasp.

"Run!" he yelled, and they took off down the strange, fog-shrouded street. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, as shadows pursued them through the mist.

Jake's mind raced as they ran, trying to formulate a plan. If the Watchers had used the building's network as a conduit, then maybe the key to stopping them lay in the central server room. It was a long shot, but it was the only idea he had.

"We need to get back inside," Jake panted as they ran. "To the server room in the basement."

Lisa looked at him like he was crazy. "Back inside? Are you insane?"

"Trust me," Jake said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "It's our only chance."

They circled back towards the Nexus Apartments, the building now a twisted, impossible version of itself. The sleek, modern facade was replaced by ancient stone, covered in strange, pulsing growths. The entrance yawned open like a gaping maw, darkness spilling out onto the street.

Jake and Lisa paused at the threshold, both acutely aware that stepping inside might mean never coming out again. They exchanged a look, no words necessary to convey their fear and determination.

Taking a deep breath, they plunged into the darkness.

The interior of the building was a nightmarish fusion of modern architecture and eldritch horror. The smart lighting system flickered erratically, casting strange shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. The walls pulsed and writhed as if alive, and Jake could have sworn he saw faces pressing out from within them, mouths open in silent screams.

They made their way to the stairwell, the steps now made of some strange, spongy material that squelched under their feet. As they descended towards the basement, the air grew thicker and harder to breathe, filled with spores or ash or something worse.

"Almost there," Jake wheezed, his lungs burning. Lisa nodded grimly, unable to speak through her coughing.

When they reached the basement level, they found the corridor leading to the server room blocked by a pulsating mass of tentacles and eyes. The eyes swiveled towards them, and the tentacles began to writhe more violently.

"Now what?" Lisa gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jake looked around desperately, his gaze falling on a fire axe mounted on the wall. Without hesitation, he smashed the glass and grabbed the axe, its weight reassuring in his hands.

"Stay behind me," he said to Lisa, before charging towards the blockade.

Jake swung the axe with all his might, the blade sinking into the fleshy mass with a sickening squelch. Black ichor sprayed out, burning where it touched his skin. The eyes blinked rapidly, and a psychic scream tore through Jake's mind, nearly causing him to drop the axe.

But he pressed on, hacking and slashing at the writhing tentacles. Lisa joined in, using her flashlight to bludgeon any appendages that got too close. Slowly, agonizingly, they carved a path through the nightmarish growth.

Finally, they broke through, stumbling into the server room. The space was transformed, the racks of equipment now fused with organic matter, pulsing with an otherworldly energy. At the center stood a pillar of swirling darkness, tendrils of shadow reaching out to connect with every piece of technology in the room.

"That must be it," Jake said, pointing to the pillar. "The conduit the Watchers are using."

As they approached, Jake could feel an immense pressure building in his head. Whispers filled his mind, promising power and knowledge beyond his wildest dreams if he'd only submit to the Watchers' will.

Jake gritted his teeth, fighting against the psychic assault. He raised the axe, ready to strike at the heart of the dark pillar.

But before he could swing, a familiar voice rang out. "Jake, stop!"

He turned to see Sarah standing in the doorway, her form flickering between her human appearance and something far more alien and terrifying.

"You don't understand what you're doing," Sarah said, her voice echoing strangely. "The Watchers can give us everything – immortality, knowledge, power beyond imagination. Why fight it?"

For a moment, Jake hesitated. The offer was tempting, the promise of transcending human limitations almost overwhelming. But then he looked at Lisa, saw the fear and determination in her eyes, and remembered all the people in the building who had been twisted and changed against their will.

"No," Jake said firmly. "Whatever the Watchers are offering, it's not worth the cost. This ends now."

With all his strength, Jake swung the axe into the pillar of darkness. There was a moment of resistance, and then the axe sank in, as if cutting through thick syrup. An unearthly shriek filled the air, and the entire building began to shake.

"Again!" Lisa shouted, and Jake obliged, swinging the axe over and over into the writhing mass of shadows.

With each strike, the pressure in Jake's head increased, and he could feel something vast and alien pushing against his mind, trying to break through. But he focused on the task at hand, channeling all his fear and anger into each blow.

Sarah lunged forward, her form twisting into something inhuman, but Lisa intercepted her, swinging her flashlight with all her might. The two grappled as Jake continued his assault on the pillar.

Finally, with one last, mighty swing, Jake felt something give way. The pillar of darkness exploded outward, a shockwave of energy throwing everyone off their feet. Jake's world went dark as his head struck the ground hard.

When Jake regained consciousness, he found himself lying on the floor of a normal, if somewhat battered, server room. The organic growths were gone, replaced by sparking, damaged equipment. Lisa was stirring beside him, a nasty bruise forming on her forehead but otherwise appearing unharmed.

There was no sign of Sarah or any of the other transformed residents. The oppressive atmosphere that had permeated the building was gone, replaced by an almost painful normalcy.

As Jake helped Lisa to her feet, they could hear sirens in the distance, growing closer. Somehow, impossibly, it seemed they had done it. They had driven back the Watchers and restored the world to its proper state.

But as they made their way out of the building, leaning on each other for support, Jake couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't truly over. The Watchers had been watching humanity for millennia, biding their time. Who was to say they wouldn't try again?

As paramedics and police swarmed the scene, Jake made a silent vow. He would be ready next time. He would watch the Watchers, and he would make sure they never again came so close to claiming our world as their own.

For now, though, he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. The nightmare was over, at least for the moment. And in the light of dawn, the Nexus Apartments stood silent, its secrets once again hidden behind its sleek, modern facade.

***Epilogue***

Six months had passed since the incident at the Nexus Apartments. Jake sat at his desk in his new apartment across town, surrounded by monitors displaying various security feeds and data streams. He had thrown himself into researching the Watchers, using his computer skills to scour the darkest corners of the internet for any sign of their influence.

As he sifted through lines of code, a notification popped up on one of his screens. It was an email from Lisa, who had become a close friend and ally in the aftermath of their shared ordeal.

"Jake,

I hope this finds you well. I've been following up on some of the leads we discussed, and I think I've found something. Remember the strange energy readings we detected near the old factory district? Well, I went to check it out, and... Jake, I saw something. I can't explain it over email. Can we meet?

Stay safe,

Lisa"

Jake frowned, a familiar sense of unease creeping over him. He was about to reply when his lights flickered, just for a moment. It could have been a simple power surge, but Jake knew better than to dismiss such things now.

He glanced at his security camera feed, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. At first, everything seemed normal, but then he noticed something in the corner of the frame. A shadow that didn't quite match the others, moving in a way that defied natural laws.

Jake's heart began to race as he zoomed in on the anomaly. For a split second, he could have sworn he saw a familiar face forming in the darkness – Sarah's face, her eyes black and empty, her mouth stretched in an impossible grin.

Then the image was gone, leaving Jake to wonder if he had imagined it. But deep down, he knew the truth. The Watchers were still out there, still watching, still waiting for their chance to break through once more.

Jake took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenges ahead. He began to type a reply to Lisa:

"I've seen something too. Meet me at the usual place in an hour. And Lisa... be careful. I don't think we're as alone as we thought."

As he hit send, Jake couldn't shake the feeling that unseen eyes were upon him, watching from just beyond the veil of reality. The battle, it seemed, was far from over. In fact, it might have only just begun.

[your7oxygen]

Smart Home Design

Integrating Technology into Modern Architecture

Integrating technology into modern architecture not only enhances the functionality of a home but also transforms it into a more efficient, secure, and comfortable living space. Here’s how smart home design is shaping the future of modern architecture and how you can incorporate these technologies into your own home.

1. Smart Lighting Systems

Smart lighting systems allow homeowners to control their lighting through voice commands, smartphones, or automated schedules. These systems can adjust the brightness and color temperature of lights based on the time of day or personal preferences. For example, you can set the lights to gradually brighten in the morning to mimic a natural sunrise, making waking up a more pleasant experience.

2. Home Automation Hubs

A home automation hub acts as the central controller for all smart devices within a house. It integrates various smart systems, such as lighting, heating, and security, into one unified platform. This centralization makes it easier to manage and automate different aspects of home life. For instance, you can create routines that turn off the lights, adjust the thermostat, and lock the doors when you leave the house.

3. Voice-Activated Assistants

Voice-activated assistants, like Amazon Alexa, Google Assistant, or Apple’s Siri, have become common in smart homes. These devices allow users to control various smart home features through voice commands. From playing music and setting reminders to controlling smart appliances, voice assistants offer a hands-free way to interact with your home technology.

4. Smart Thermostats

Smart thermostats are designed to optimize home heating and cooling systems, resulting in energy savings and increased comfort. They learn your schedule and preferences over time, automatically adjusting temperatures to suit your lifestyle. Additionally, smart thermostats can be controlled remotely via smartphone apps, allowing you to adjust settings even when you’re away from home.

5. Home Security Systems

Modern smart home security systems offer advanced features such as remote monitoring, motion detection, and video surveillance. Smart cameras and doorbells allow homeowners to view live footage and receive alerts if unusual activity is detected. Integration with other smart devices, such as lighting and alarms, can enhance security and provide peace of mind.

6. Smart Appliances

Smart appliances, such as refrigerators, ovens, and washing machines, are designed to improve convenience and efficiency. These appliances can be controlled remotely, provide notifications about their status, and even integrate with other smart home systems. For instance, a smart oven can be preheated from your smartphone before you arrive home.

7. Energy Management

Smart home design also emphasizes energy management and efficiency. Smart meters and energy monitoring systems provide insights into your energy usage, helping you identify areas where you can save on utility bills. By integrating these systems with smart appliances and lighting, you can further reduce energy consumption and minimize your environmental impact.