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mae-gi-writes · 5 months

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Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 1

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

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"Enjoying life, Greenie?"

Dark eyes framed by thick lashes look up with a scowl at the said Builder's voice. And here Mai had hoped for some peace and tranquility after having spent all day out in the sun pulling out weeds and listening to Zart talk incessantly about his love of plants and whatever.

Gally stands ahead of the new boy, leaning against one of Homestead's supporting structures with the kind of grin that makes Mai want to run for it. No wonder so many new Greenies decide that the Maze is a fair chance. When Gally's out here storming through the grounds, Mai isn't quite sure that the Glade is as safe as they all make it out to be. His temper is something to be reckoned with.

Mai's been here for only over a week and to say that it's comfortable would be a lie. It feels suffocating, all the more because of the number of people cramped into the Glade.

Gally takes a step towards the Greenie and the latter freezes up for a second, inwardly screaming at him to go back where he comes from because god knows Mai does not want the peace created undisturbed. But seems that Gally doesn't read faces well, for he plonks himself down next to the new boy while pushing up his shirt sleeves currently caked with mud from all the hard work he's been doing around the Glade.

The words fall from Mai's mouth without warning, "aren't you supposed to be with your Builders?"

For a minute, Gally's eyebrows quirk up in surprise. Not a lot of people dare to stand up to him and yet, this new recruit has the kind of fire in his eyes that makes Gally smirk. Little smartass, he thinks to himself.

"I'm their Keeper, I can do whatever I want."

"Slacking off is also part of that job title?"

"You've got quite a mouth on you for a Greenie."

Mai's scowl merely deepens before he looks away. Gally's right. That's not the right way to keep a low profile here. In the Glade, hierarchy was everything and Mai is stupid to believe that Gally's interest in him excuses Mai from any sort of punishment he might have to offer.

"Sorry," Mai mutters.

Gally doesn't seem to mind, clapping a hand on the younger boy's back before he pulls himself back up, "Gotta go back to work Greenie. You coming?"

Mai grumbles but does as told, already feeling the scars on his hands where he'd been pulling out weeds all morning. He just hopes that his phase with the Garden people is just what it is - a phase. There are far more fun things to be done around the Glade and unwillingly, the Greenie casts a glance back at Gally's broad back as the latter makes his way to his newest architectural invention.

Mai feels his face flush and quickly averts his gaze, knowing full well that he needs to get a hold of himself if he wants to survive in this place.

Well, she needs to get a hold of herself.

----

Lie.

Lie to them. And to yourself.

Lie, Mai.

Those were the first few words that Mai heard echoing in the back of her brain the moment she'd stepped out of the metal box. The crowd of boys around her hadn't suspected a thing, considering that she was dressed as a boy, had close-cropped hair and was so scrawny one could barely believe a female's body laid underneath. The words were so poignant, dripping with venom of instructions, that Mai had done as told. She'd lied to them all, for the sake of safety.

And maybe that was what had saved her, in the long run.

It's complicated living in a Glade full of horny boys. Mai has to be careful because every second counts. When she goes to the toilet, for example, making up the excuse that she needs to do "a big one" as she'd mutter out to the other boys while averting her gaze elsewhere. Or when she's changing, always volunteering to go pick out weeds and quickly dropping into the Runner's chambers so she could get into fresh clothes. The biggest challenge had been the showers. It was communal and most boys didn't care at all for privacy. So Mai had to wait out in the dark. No boys enjoyed bathing in utter darkness, so night time was her best opportunity. She'd wait until everyone was drowsy enough not to realize that she was gone, scrubbing down her body in milliseconds before shoving on her new clothes.

Thankfully, the boys are either too dumb or too preoccupied with dealing with what the Maze has to offer to give her attention, and for that Mai is grateful.

"So have you decided?"

She looks up from her bowl of soup freshly made by Frypan and herself -- they'd decided to put her with the said young man for the day to see how she would fare and in all honesty, Mai thinks that this is probably the first time she's felt at ease with something -- into Alby's dark eyes.

Their leader is not one that speaks for nothing, and so everything that does come out of his mouth is of some importance.

"I definitely don't want to be a Slicer," she responds with a shrug, and takes another gulp of her soup. The leader takes a seat across from hers with an amused smile, "why not? I think it's fitting."

"Shut up Alby," she scowls at him.

"Alright alright," he lifts his hands in surrender, "considering your frame, I say we make you a Cook. Frypan needs all the help he can get anyway."

"That's offensive," Mai states, "what's wrong with my size?"

"C'mon Greenie, you're like four feet tall. You can't hold or build nothing, you suck at gardening, you've got no shuck stamina. I think the kitchen's where you belong."

"Thanks Alby, really shucking inspirational."

"You're welcome." Alby grins. Someone cries out his name then, something to do with the Runners, and he hits you lightly on the arm as he stands, "right. Off to work, shank."

Mai watches as his back shrinks with more distance, and wonders whether Alby suspects something off about her — or him. She's so careful, always double or triple checking, but she can never be too sure. Is that why he's sticking her into the kitchen where he thinks girls belong?

No, you're thinking too much into it, Mai thinks to herself. It's fine, you're doing fine.

Obviously, it's not just fine.

She busies herself all afternoon working as Frypan's assistant in the kitchen. He is easy-going and makes her feel a lot better, something about his presence reassures her, even though the close cooking quarters makes moving about impossible without touching one another. That's not something that Mai feels comfortable with, so she does try her best to avoid moving in the same direction.

Tonight is pork curry from the Slicer's last batch, paired with flavored rice and some green beans from the Track-Hoes gardens. The boys are hungry by the time evening falls and Mai busies herself by serving them one another another, until the familiar clamour of metal causes the entire Glade to freeze.

It's been a week, and yet Mai is still not comfortable hearing the gates close them in every night. The same gates keeping them from the outside. The same gates trapping them in, in a world that they can't even control.

Mai's fury burns as she thinks of it.

"Hey," she turns to see the blonde, the one that looks like an elf with features so delicate that she might swoon at the look of him. He's the next in line, amused by the fact that she seems distracted.

"O—Oh. Sorry," she quickly shoves a few pieces of Pork into his plate and loads it up with the greenbeans, "here you go."

"Thanks Greenie," he cocks his head st her curiously, "how you holding up?"

Mai shrugs, embarrassed that she can't seem to recall his name even though she knows he's second-in-command, "doing alright I suppose. Alby finally figured out what to do with me."

"Yeah I think you're better suited for it than picking out weeds. Zart wasn't impressed."

"It's not my fault your weeds seem to be ten meters long." Mai protests as a flush creeps up her neck.

Newt laughs, "I'm joking Greenie. Relax. Anyway," he lifts his plate in mock salute, "thanks for this. Hope I don't choke on it."

"Well I hope you do!" Mai yells out after him, only to add after some minor reflection, "—a little bit."

After having served all Gladers, Mai takes her own plate and tries to find a seat. Alas, the task proves itself hard upon noticing that all tables are already full. There's only one place open — and that one place is by the Runner's table.

Now, it's not that Mai wants to be rude and ignore them altogether. But the Runners only bring out the particular memory of her pathetic wheeze after having run merely a mile, deeming her not fit for the said job. That embarrassment had only made Mai want to avoid the Runners altogether if she could.

But alas, fate is not on her side today. She spots the asian boy called Minho, whose eyebrows quirk up when their eyes meet. He casts a quick glance at her tray, has a look around, before he grins and beckons her over.

"Hey Greenie," he says as soon as her butt hits her seat. His dimpled smile paired with his pretty crescent moon eyes doesn't help with her heart, "thought you'd never wanna show your shuck face around us after that run."

"Some people aren't Runners. Get over it," you say it more in a mutter but loud enough that it gets the entire table into chuckles.

"Well I think you might just be the next Frypan," another Runner says, "I'm Ben by the way."

"Mai," she responds, not enjoying the way his eyes seem to flicker over her face in thought, as if he's trying to figure out what's off with her.

Because there is something off, just not the kind that they'd expect.

"Huh, Mai." Ben tries it out on his tongue. He takes another bite of his curry, "how are you liking the glade?"

"S'alright. I just wish the Builders could maybe build us actual beds instead of having hammocks."

"Oh he said it," Minho claps Mai's back so hard she almost spits out her food, thankful he hasn't noticed when he only slings an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer, "hey Gally! Greenie here has a problem with your hammocks!"

Uh oh. Mai's horror triples as she watches the said Builder stand from his seat. Numerous eyes have swayed across tables to land on her now. Gally strides towards them slowly, a predator confident in his skin, she can't help but squirm back.

He's intimidating and scary. And yet, her stomach squeezed with an unfamiliar feeling altogether.

"You got a problem with the hammocks?"

Gally's voice brings her back to reality. Mai blinks, "uhm—no, not at all—"

"That's not what you said a few seconds ago Greenie," Minho grins, "come on. Tell him. He doesn't bite."

"He might," mutters Ben from your other side.

"Uh— I was saying how comfortable the hammocks were," Mai responds with a nervous laugh, "so yeah— good job Gally."

Gally doesn't seem convinced, but a call from Alby stating that he wishes to see the Keepers thankfully breaks the attention from Mai.

"Right," Minho quickly clears the plates away, but not before ruffling Mai's hair as he does so, "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Try not to die Greenie."

Mai lets out a soft sigh as the asian boy makes a run for it, followed by Gally after having thrown her another glance. He doesn't say anything though and as the Glade slowly starts to die out — boys settling into their hammocks and others taking their turns in the showers — Mai is glad when no one seems to pay her attention in favor of sleep. No surprise there, considering how tiring they are after all this hard work.

She settles into her own hammock, tied up close to the elfin-looking blonde, and tries to get comfortable. The Maze walls look even larger as she stares up at them, her breath catching in her throat as she thinks of all the boys that have lived here for months without hope.

Mai falls asleep that night, dreaming of the what ifs and the endless possibilities of what the future might hold.

She just hopes that they'll make it out one day, hopes that the echoing voices at the back of her head are just that — voices.

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A/N: AAANd that's a wrap for the first chapter! Like I said, I'm in a TMR brainrot so don't mind me or my obsessive behaviour towards Gally in these series. And can I just say that Will Poulter has aged like fine wine. See you in the next chapter! Do let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist <3

#gally #gally tmr #the maze runner #scorch trials #death cure #tmr gally #tmr x reader #tmr thomas #tmr minho #gally x reader #tmr gally x reader #tmr newt #romcom #tmr imagines #tmr fanfiction #the maze runner imagine #themazerunner fanfiction #the maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner x reader

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phoenixblaze1412 · 8 months

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can i request a fem reader who has a terrible moodswing during her period? i couldn't help but imagine dottore getting yelled at by reader because of her mood hehe, also, how will dottore handle the situation?

-🧊

Code Red.

Every segment knows of this. An event that happens every month and usually lasts for a week. Yes, their darling's monthly period pain.

Dottore is already aware of it. He was the one who made the code after all.

He would already have the medicine and painkillers that you may need to help suppress those cramps you have to endure. Ibuprofen, naproxen, aspirin and the like. All prepared and organised in a certain shelf titled 'For Pain/Cramps' just in case needed.

Ah, ah, ah. You are not eating various sugary treats or those cravings you want. The only treat you can consume is dark chocolate. Dottore explained that said product has magnesium that can also help alleviate your pain. Doctor's orders after all.

Dottore usually wouldn't be bothered when others would scream at him. But hearing your voice curse and yell at him would make him flinch. He knows it's part of your mood swings and it's normal but sometimes he would be overthinking some of the words you would say until you had to force it outta him during your post-period state.

If Dottore is busy in his laboratory or on a mission while you're on your period, he would send some of his segments to take care of you.

Dottore made sure to write a list of things needed for you and to take note of your mood swings because each emotion or reaction you show has various meanings that the segment has to understand to be able to handle the situation.

The segments, mostly the younger ones during Dottore's pre-fatui era, would be panicking over you. They read the notes given to them, yes. But did they understand? Absolutely not. They haven't taken care of you like this before but they were the ones ordered by Dottore himself to take care of you since they were available.

The segments even suggested of immediately putting you in the operating room right when they saw the blood staining your sheets and coming from down there. They thought that one of your organs must have popped and could require medical treatment immediately.

Dottore had to step in and rescue you right after Omega informed him that you were about to have surgery just because of some measly blood. He couldn't blame his segments for being so idiotic, he once thought you had an internal bleeding that he didn't examined carefully when he first found out about your period.

After that incident, he decided to hold a small meeting between himself and his segments and informed them of your monthly pain. He made sure the segments don't even bother to think of trying anything else to fix you other than follow the instructions he laid out when your menstrual cycle arrives.

Dottore may have forgot to inform them about the mood swings.

Later on, he found his segments sulking in the corner of your room with a hurt look plastered across their faces.

"..never have I seen a woman become so scary..."

"I blame you for this, Gamma."

"I didn't do anything! I was only giving her the medicine! Besides, Epsilon was supposed to bake treats for her."

"She already ate them all!"

"Enough of your chatter and stand up. She's acting like that because of her mood swings. It's part of her monthly cycle. So stop whining and get to work."

Yes, Dottore wrote down every little thing needed to do whenever you had your period but he left out a certain thing. Affections.

Any simple act of physical affection that he would initiate is already enough to keep you stable. From cuddles to forehead and cheek kisses all the way to whispering sweet words into your ear is enough to stop your mood swings from going haywire.

He wouldn't let his other segments know about it, just because they're him from different time periods doesn't mean he would let them give you affections. How ironic of him to be jealous of himself.

Nonetheless, when it comes to you, you are his and his alone.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #female reader #il dottore x reader

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starsologyy · 8 months

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𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 [𝟎𝟎𝟐].

002. ─── ✦ DRUNK IN LUV [SERIES MASTERLIST} ✧˖*°࿐

synopsis ─ [31 DAYS LEFT TILL THE EXAM] gojo takes home his drunk girlfriend, who's actually geto's little sister, and aka, somebody he is NOT suppose to seeing at all.

content warnings ─ alcohol usage, curse words, and etc.

NOV. 9. 2007. 8:54 PM. GOJO SATORU’S POV.

satoru knows it’s a dumbass idea to be next to the girl he can’t have. especially at a public library he rented at night, but it was cheap, and no one could possibly blame him.

if one was asked to elaborate on this institution of knowledge as a birthday venue, one wouldn’t classify this place as a profoundly enormous architectural masterpiece due to its inadequate funding, which lacks to achieve something grand in that matter.

it’s rather pathetic, looking at it. the knowledge that surrounds them has insufficient funds to where they have lost the dignity to not plaster a scroll of edo period art on the beige walls. but the old lady who runs it; hired satoru a couple of months ago, doesn’t seem to care much.

and satoru isn’t shown to care either since he rented it out for a birthday party for teens who wanted to drink. (when it was only her and him together…)

yet, he feels as if the old woman does care somewhat. she’s bitter, rude, and slips insults off the tongue like the sound of books off the shelves (she wouldn’t be able to hear herself any other way at this age) when he does the shelving wrong. but she’s not always a senile old woman, satoru thinks. she’s nice enough to spare him from a five hour lecture to not spill a single liquid of beer on the ancient books.

It was only four hours today.

but never mind that.

he knows he should feel terrible, bottled with immense guilt because he hasn't told his best friend, suguru, about how he likes his little sister. and yet, satoru oddly doesn't feel any of those things.

and satoru gojo, he knows he’s fucked for his apathy.

“satoru!” kana whined, kicking her restless feet against his thrifted, acid washed baggy jeans, “i’m sooooo tired. do you have water?” she asked.

impersonating the spider web that hangs on the corner of the shelf beside them, his barrage of intertwined thoughts rip as he pops his head out of the cramped space and his eventual hangover to rapidly nod his head.

the snow fallen haired boy soon passes her a bottle of water, watching her chug it.

satoru can’t help the grin growing on his face. “maybe you should go home, you can’t handle your beer.” he teases with a cheshire-like smile. kana scoffs at him before laughing a moment later.

she leans on the table at the end of satoru with a flirtatious expression, “accompany me home then idiot.” kana teases back, and the male’s crystal light eyes widen in a bit of a shock at that invite. the top of his mouth even shrivels as he tries to aimlessly smack his rosy lips for a bit of random moisture.

“ah well—”

kana rolls her eyes. “my mom won’t see you! don’t be a pussy satoru.” she frowns, “i’m not some fling you’re hiding, am i?” she said as she gave him a side glare, and he rolled his eyes after he shook his head no.

being afraid of your girlfriend’s mom and your best friend (her brother) will see you, is NOT the same as having another girl on the side, satoru screams within his head. he’s surprised after dealing with her temper and chaotic mess he hasn’t gone ahead and found a different girl yet, but that’s her charm (supposedly at least).

“okay, first of all,” he explains to kana. “if i was hiding you, i would cover up your face with a paper bag everywhere i went,” the boy laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she scrunches her face. “and don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles and look like an old hag if you keep scrunching.” satoru adds in a sing-song manner.

“also, accusing me of being with other girls is also pretty much saying I’m with an old hag. like we’re 90 years old and I looked at some girl at a bingo game because—”

“just shut up.” she scoffs, pinching his cheek in response before settling down.

she doesn’t do it hard enough to hurt for long he realizes, even if he could technically handle it. satoru pretends as if someone shot him in the foot.

“OUCH!”

“FINE! fine! uragh, i’ll drive you home, so you can’t complain to me. happy?” he shouts, pouting at the same time. though, it turns to an uncontrollable soft smile when the cerulean in his eyes rise as similarly unmanageable waves, to now mesmerizingly swirl in his pupils once it witnesses the sight of the joyful contortion of her lips.

“really!? and don’t call me some old hag anymore! for the life of me.” she groaned, and he rolls his eyes to confirm his little tease will be over.

kana smiles, forcing him up by suddenly jumping up from her seat similar to the cartoon characters plastered on the scratched walls behind him. satoru laughs boisterously at this, only to witness her also hop on his rather wide back once he also leaves the table, wrapping her muscular arms around his neck to rest her head on his shoulder.

“you’re heavy!”

“fuck off!”

he clicks his tongue, holding onto her thighs to support herself on him. the silence between their lips pursue the delicate tread of the frail bliss known as comfortability. he didn’t mind the lack of their chat. It doesn't last long however.

“seeeee, you know you like this,” she drunkenly cheers, her clumpy coats of onyx mascara with the shade electric blue on the tops fluttering lightly on her lashes as she takes in the fresh air once they step outside of the library. “how could you not love this? you should drive me home more,” she giggles. the alcohol seems to have set in, and her incredibly soft hair tickles his chin.

“and waste my gas? yeah fucking right,” he yawns mockingly, and she scoffs as she kicks her legs back and forth (ensuring to leave him a bruise for injuring her egotistical pride.)

“ouch!”

“what’s with you and injuring me?” he grumbles.

silence seems to have fallen off the thread of comfort now as he’s rather feeling uncomfortable from the sting of hard sneakers hitting flesh.

her little ‘hmph!’ reminds satoru that it would mean dead silence between them, killing the conversation and giving tension between them as they both struggle to generate another, but he actually finds it opposingly soothing right now.

they soon end up in his navy blue sports car, kana in the passenger seat as she rubs her eyes a bit. she’ll regret it later he realizes, but satoru stays silent as his engine rumbles obnoxiously loud, probably waking a couple of crying babies nearby. oops. not enough to wake her up though, so he hopes those moms would forgive him.

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the drive isn’t supposed to be long, but the time it takes to arrive to kana’s house stretches far into the greedy hands of eternity. it desperately holds both souls in the stillness of the blinding rich glimmer from satoru’s sports car, and yet as dreadful as infinity may stretch, he continues this sloth like pace, driving painstakingly slowly, and prolongs the inevitable.

the last time satoru gojo drove this slow, is when he first got it on his sixteen birthday and mommy wouldn’t pay to get scratches removed.

yeah…

the reason he drives slowly though, is because he just doesn’t want to deal with what comes with pulling up near the drive through. yet he holds that breath of polluted city, or whatever how much a suburban town in the middle of nowhere can be considered a city, just at the center of his adam’s apple. kana sits restless, and exhausted at the same time somehow throughout all this.

she’s a bit naive, satoru thinks. for getting into a car with a man, to clarify. she trusts him sure, but caution lies clear in folktales of those who have been hurt by the ones they hold the most dear.

she disregards fear like an idiot living near a radioactive plant. it’s impressive, but he’s the one who agreed, so he’s her neighbor in that dumb scenario. he stays silent as she rants about whatever drama could possibly conjure in the hellhole of the 2nd year of a suburban high school.

but to be fair, she runs her mouth like an american sprinter about far less worse things than what he used to hear at his old, stuck up the ass, high school, before he got caught sneaking out at four am and was sent to this town like some mass isolation.

“and then he said it’s not his fault he had to cheat because she just wasn’t getting his needs you know? but I was like nooo are you insane—”

…

“kana?”

…

“you there?”

he glances over at her, and his brows raise to the top of his head at the sight of the slight drool lining her glossed lips. the emergence of a buried sound of snoring in the rippling silence of a rural town where no one dares to stay up past twelve o'clock (or be faced with their mother’s rapid pull on rather sensitive ears) makes him chuckle. it’s amusing to watch, sure, but he quickly rests eyes back on the ever winding road to not crash his expensive ass car into a boulder.

he really does need a new job. and soon. but maybe watching your girlfriend sleep should be a job in itself he thinks.

satoru’s arms soon rest easy on his thighs as he gets comfortable with this road back to her place, just an easy step on the gas he also needs to refill. he’s unconsciously keeping a steady pace to not wake her up, but he denies it to the gentle, beating of his stone cold heart by saying he doesn’t have the cash to waste another gallon or purchase another tire to go over a pothole carelessly.

also, he doesn’t want to wake up some family like he did a while ago. after another five minutes or so, they reach their destination.

──────────────────────────────

he glances over once more. “wake up ugly.” the cheeky boy provokes, pinching the chub of her cheek to leave it a hint more rosy than what kana normally brushes on her cheeks.

“or else i’ll kick you out for not paying me back for gas.” he mutters to himself, his scarred muscles (from being outside more than some barbaric creature who resides in forests) almost shuddering at the thought of paying those ever increasing expenses.

kana’s eyelids slowly rise to the sight of the slightest frown on the boy next to her, but they almost already fall shut once more from the alcohol she ingested a while ago. her lips remain shut while her head remains slugged on the back of his white leather extravaganza of a vehicle.

“we here already?” she murmurs.

“just got here.” he nods.

a part of his aching soul is fond enough of kana, that as the girl holds near and dear inside his very calloused soul, he silently pursues the question of letting her sleep a while longer if her hangover needs so. but he disregards that thought.

the longer he stays, the more likely he is to be caught. even if he wants his girlfriend to get the sleep she needs.

kana raises a brow in turn to somehow telepathically question why he hasn’t launched some mischievous joke to wake her up. he can tell what she’s asking from that look in her eyes.

“since its your birthday and what not.” he quickly adds, as if to deny a disgusting softness that may cultivate in the gentleness of his self if carefulness continues to lack in the streamlining of hushed words.

“oh. okay.” kana sighs, a yawn escaping soon after as she rummages through the back of the car to find her onyx bag. it has a bountiful bunch of multivariety printed pins stuck to the painfully clear false leather of measly fabric and the same galore of cheap key chains stuck to the strap and zipper, but it seems more endearing than he is to her.

he’s joking, obviously.

there’s a quietness now as she continues to try to make sure she doesn't forget anything, and it’s usually familiar, but satoru feels a lump like he wants to gag and renchingly expel the hideous bile of his very stomach from its personification of a burden to ask why it exists. the silence from a bit ago was comfortable. now it’s noticeably not.

why is she quiet? she normally talks his damn ears off when she wakes up, as much as he does her. it’s giving him an unfamiliar goosebump, similar to when he sees a seven foot male at his basketball games. essentially, it’s not good.

at all.

it shouldn’t be there, and his need for the expulsion of a cheap beer isn’t this feeling either. it’s not the same, even if he doesn’t like to drink very often and pukes after a sip. satoru only drank beer today for kana honestly, but he usually sticks to more sugar cube filled mockery of these drinks more often than not.

she’s gotta be pissed off for sure, or satoru is in hell for not throwing away the empty milk carton from when he wanted cereal from this eerie silence.

“you mad at me?” he hums, looking outside the clearness of his driver’s window (that he only cleaned yesterday to impress her).

silence again. he looks at her once more. did he wake her up too early? he doesn’t think he did (but men never know what they did wrong he learned).

“why would i be mad?” she scoffs, resting her bag in her lap as she then begins to pick up the things she keeps forgetting to get back from his abyss of a car every other time she enters his car. for example, like that vampy lipgloss from the dollar store, she keeps forgetting it, and always forgetting to take it back.

“you just seem mad all of a sudden. i don’t know. did i suddenly fuck up, your royal highness?” satoru sighs.

“well, i’m not. you’re just reading inbetween the lines.” she glares out of the blue, and his similarly colored cerulean eyes droop at its very cold sight, like her being merely upset freezes him more than what winter may do in the essence of the common occurrence called frostbite.

he goes back to looking away though, yet she can somehow notice a snowflake of shame as a glimmer in his eyes that she stares at quite often in the haze of her slugged drunkenness.

“so you are mad.” he states with a sigh leaving his lips after he does so.

she doesn’t respond for a moment.

“and if i am?” maybe she’s on her period satoru wonders. just maybe.

“i drove you home though, like you wanted.” he seems to be insisting of a conversation that may drive him mad the more she could have the time to glare at him in this enclosure of a car. he shrugs, trying to open up a door that probably shouldn’t be touched. “did i forget to do something else? did you want flowers?—”

“just open the damn car door. im like a prisoner!” she responds, angrily trying to open the car’s side door after picking up her forgotten lip gloss. he grabs her wrist in a rather harsh manner, but it softens at the realization of a small wince on kana’s very face.

“sorry—but, i wanna talk. i know you’re mad at me, but I thought we had a good time at your birthday party, and you know, i can’t understand why you’re mad all of a sudden,” he mutters, “and for being so dumb.” he

adds, and while he repeats the word ‘sorry’ like a broken cd, she knows satoru says his sorries and apologies as much as meteors appears in the very calming night of this town. or a tsunami and what not.

satoru doesn’t intentionally hurt her. yet, it’s this time where retribution once more comes forth to punish the way kana’s senseless rambles attempt to shelter her from his notions of affection. he wants to know why he hurt her, but the countless occurrences she has pushed him away has comes to haunt her and her fragile femininity in trying to express herself currently.

she shouldn’t need a man to help her feel better, she thinks.

her endless polarity of moods continue to antagonize her in a manner that she will never be someone that she wants to be without agonizing over the smallest matters. it’s a shame when she looks at the worry in his eyes again that she's the cause of.

they’re pure, and hers are troubled. she doesn’t know how to express herself in a matter of care and gentleness in which other women have been characterized to have known since their heart has beat.

it’s easy to talk to the boy about anything but her feelings truthfully.

she looks down, because she feels the uncomfortable warmth lining her tear ducts.

it’s weird, crying on your birthday, she thinks. especially over such a good guy like satoru, she just can’t get the words to slip as much as bile does after a crappy special night out. he carefully holds her for a moment now, as if she’s a fragile piece of glass, letting her head rest in the scent of his woody cologne.

“did you care when i was talking about that random girl earlier?”

huh? he thinks, raising a brow. she doesn’t know how else to distract him. she’s drunk. who’s going to blame her?

“not really, but i guess it was fucked up her boyfriend cheated.” the white haired boy murmurs. “are you mad because i didn’t show interest, cause i was listening it only didn’t seem like it because—”

“because you were driving, i know.” he raises his brow at what could she be annoyed about if it’s not about that, but he stays silent. “i don’t know what i’m mad about then.”

he’s about to open his mouth but, “i don’t know. okay? maybe it��s because im buzzed. it just happened all of a sudden okay? you know i don’t cry often it’s just you know, you know? right?”

she’s repeating words like a mad man, he thinks. crying like a jester on display after a ball falls from the juggle of his rather childish act. she fits the role of one oddly enough, but he likes the spontaneity of it all.

“so you’re upset at me because you’re drunk? because this happened all of a sudden you know?” if he says the words ‘you know’ one more time, he might bang his head.

she nods.

he sighs of some sort of minor relief despite not understanding it. “you’re always an emotional wreck after a beer.” he grunts, and she rolls her eyes, her fingertips obnoxiously wiping away her sudden tears as if she wasn’t wearing smokey eye makeup at the moment.

she’s glad he’s not forcing her to say more. he’s glad himself he won’t have to provoke her to another mess of her drunken mind. he’s not equipped to deal with the mental breakdowns, but he still allows her to ramble endlessly about others, and then cry in his arms about nonsensical matters. despite him being the forbidden fruit she wants to taste his bitter lips, so she kisses satoru despite it all, savoring the sweetness of his love despite the fact suguru would kill her for dating his best friend.

taglist? <3. just comment below!

#jjk getou #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen shoko #jujutsu geto #jjk fanfic #jujutsu fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #geto fic #jjk shoko #shoko ieiri #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen geto #jjk suguru

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clown-friend-gt · 3 months

Text

Up, Up, and Away: Chapter 2

Not much actual g/t in the chapters I posted today, but that will change soon. These chapters will set that up, don't worry!

Hopefully the Spanish in the chapter doesn't sound too odd to those who speak it. I took four semesters of Spanish in college, but I haven't used it since, and my ability to speak it has definitely suffered because of it lmao.

Link to Masterpost

************************************************************************

Growing Pains

1.2k words

The change started early morning one Friday. Trevor woke up because his whole body screamed with pain. His muscles felt strained, like he was on one of those medieval torture racks. Even his bones were sore.

He figured he should take something for the pain. But when he tried to move, he couldn’t. The slightest movement sent shocks of pain through him.

So for a while, he stayed as motionless as possible, tears streaming down his face. He tried to fall back asleep, but the pain made it impossible.

Finally, he worked up the courage to move. Groaning in pain, he slid out of bed and onto his feet. His legs shook unsteadily but managed to hold him up. He took one slow step and winced, his breath escaping him in a hiss.

He had to walk slowly; each step sent spikes of pain shooting up his leg. He knew his mom had to get up early for work, so he tried to stay quiet. But he couldn’t stop himself from whimpering with the effort it took just to move himself.

He made his way into the bathroom. In the low light he could just barely make out his reflection in the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. He looked just as miserable as he felt.

He opened the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of painkillers inside. Even opening the child-proof lid made him wince, his hand cramped instantly as he did so. He shook out two pills and swallowed them dry.

Once he was done in the bathroom, he shuffled back to his room. He grabbed his phone from the table next to his bed. His mom would be mad if she caught him on it this late, but he needed something to distract himself while he waited for the painkillers to kick in.

Eventually, the pain died down to a more tolerable level, and exhaustion pulled him back into a few more hours of sleep. Still, the time passed too quickly, and before he knew it, his alarm went off, telling him it was time to get up for school.

He’d never snoozed his alarm before, but today he really needed the extra sleep. This turned out to be a bad idea, though, because he couldn’t stop himself from hitting snooze the next time, and then the time after that, and so on. His mom eventually interrupted her own morning routine to get him up.

“Mijo, get up,” she said sternly.

He groaned sleepily in response. Still, he rolled over in bed and propped himself up. He drew in a pained breath as he did, and she didn’t miss it.

“¿Qué pasó?” she asked, gentler this time.

“Nothing,” he tried to lie.

His mom wasn’t buying it, and only responded by putting her hands on her hips and staring at him pointedly.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. He didn’t want to worry her any.

He sat up with a grunt, but before he managed to stand, she was at his side.

She placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Ay, mijo, you’re burning up.”

“I’ll call the school, tell them you’re not feeling well,” she told him, standing up to grab her phone.

He wasn’t going to argue with that. He’d take an excuse to skip school any day.

“I’ll have to call out of work to take care of you, too.”

“No, don’t,” he said, stopping her.

“It’s fine. They can survive without me for one day.”

Trevor frowned. He wasn’t sure if that was true. She worked at a hospital, after all.

“I can take care of myself,” he assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

She gave him a look, appraising the condition he was in. Finally she sighed.

“Fine. There’s medicine in the bathroom and food in the fridge. Make sure you eat something today.”

Then she walked back to his side and planted a kiss on his forehead, and he was too tired to try and resist. “Te amo,” she said.

“Te amo,” he replied weakly. She gave him a smile that didn’t hide the worry in her eyes. Then she left him to roll over and go back to sleep.

The pain continued throughout the day. He slept for a few hours, then was woken up when the painkillers began to wear off. He repeated the same painful journey he’d taken earlier that day. This time, though, he kept the bottle with him so he wouldn’t have to do that again.

He laid down a little while longer before he had to wake up again, although this time, because of his stomach.

Despite his apparent illness, his appetite was seemingly unaffected. In fact, he found himself hungrier than usual. He moved around a little easier with the painkillers in his system, though the pain never really went away. He ate three packages of ramen for breakfast/lunch, then went back to bed.

When his mom got home that night, she fussed over him for a while, but otherwise, the day passed without incident. He spent the weekend bedridden, getting sleep when he could. The longer it went on, the more worried his mom seemed, and he hated that.

By Monday, the pain wasn’t gone. “You need to go to the doctor,” his mother told him.

“No, I’m fine,” he responded a little too quickly.

“Mijo, you’ve barely moved all weekend. You need to see a doctor.”

Trevor really didn’t want to put that kind of strain on her wallet, so he began to sit up. He did his best to hide his struggle.

“I’m feeling better,” he lied. “Look, I’ll even go to school today.”

He got up and went to his dresser to pick out some clothes. His mom looked like she wanted to argue, so he added, “Can you leave for now, please? I need to change.”

She sighed but left the room. Although he had lied about feeling better, he was getting more used to the pain as time went on.

He picked out some clothes without giving it much thought. Then he put them on, although felt a little small on him. He tried some other clothes but had the same problem.

Must have shrunk in the wash, he thought to himself.

Once he was dressed, he went to the kitchen to make himself toast for breakfast. His mom watched him warily the entire time. She wore a frown on her face, but said nothing to him throughout. Just as he thought he was in the clear, she spoke.

“Stand up straight,” she said, walking towards him. He obliged, straightening himself up from his slouched position. She inspected him carefully.

When she spoke again, her tone was lighter. “Since when are you taller than me?”

“Huh?” he asked, but looking closely, he could tell that she was right. Where before he’d been a little below her eye level, he now stood slightly above.

“You must’ve grown three-or-so inches in as many days,” she said. “That’s some growth spurt. No wonder you were so sore.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he agreed. After that, she seemed content to leave him be as he got ready. Finding the cause seemed to put her at ease, to Trevor’s relief.

Though it kept him from telling her that whatever was happening to him was far from over.

First/Next

#g/t community #g/t #g/t writing #giant/tiny #g/t story #OC-Trevor Castillo #OC-Marta Castillo #Story-Heroisms

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pirillalothario · 3 months

Text

If You Can't Stand The Heat

Cap. 0.04

It's not easy to being Ripp Grunt.

"It’s not easy to love life when the world hates you", or at least that’s what Ripp tells himself.

Life is not easy when you live in a military base, in the most remote zone of the city, at the bottom of a crater caused by the crash of a spaceship.

Life is not easy, of course, when you’re the middle child, when your mother left home without coming back because she hated your father, when your father hates you because you look like your mother, when your father ignores your younger brother and he has eyes only for your older brother.

It is not easy, at all.

Let’s say your father is the major general of the base. And now let’s say your father, his team, and your older brother, all of them, they hate aliens. Deeply.

How life can be easy, when your best friend IS a fucking alien?

From Ripp's Blog "Ripping Apart"

"01:12 AM

I feel so lonely in this military base. Big Brother and Little Brother are surely sleeping, and my Fucking Father is snoring like a fucking train in his bedroom. The wall is so thin, I can hear every single breath. But it's the silence that really drives me insane. The silence between the screams and fights. The peace between the tensions.

Seems like I can't shut off my brain. I keep hearing FF and BB voices in my head, and their voices are just taunting me, reminding me of all the things I can't say, all the things I can't change. I hate feeling so powerless.

I just wanna leave, like mom did. But I can't leave LB, he is always so sweet and innocent. He wants everyone to get along. He doesn't fully understand all the tension and the conflicts between BB, FF, and me. He's the only one who makes me feel like someone actually cares. LB always tells me it'll get better, and I wish I could believe him."

Ripp felt a pain in his chest as he was writing about Buck, and he could almost hear Tank's arrogant tone in his head, telling him how much better and smarter he was than Ripp, in everything. And Ripp knew it was true.

"Johnny and Ophelia are my only true friends, the only ones who understand me" he thought.

"And they are so precious. I am a useless disaster, and yet Johnny and Ophelia love me as I am"

Ripp published the post, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The room seemed smaller and more cramped than ever, the walls closing in on him.

He stood from his chair and stretched, when on the computer screen appeared a MSN notification. It was Ophelia.

RippedApart: (1:38 AM) If the General finds out I'm out in the middle of the night, with you, he'll kill me. Or he’ll have Tank kill me, just for his own amusement.

ShadowDancer: (1:40 AM) My aunt too, but we won't get caught, I promise. Just a short walk, the stars are beautiful tonight. And we'll be back before anyone notices we're gone.

RippedApart: (1:42 AM) Alright, alright. You're not gonna let me say no, are you? Fine, let's do it.

ShadowDancer: (1:43 AM) Don't worry, I've got this. Now get your shoes, I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.

#iycsth #the sims 2 #ts2 #sims 2 premades #strangetown #ts2 screenshots #ts2 story #fandom ships #ts2 strangetown #ripp grunt #ophelia nigmos #johnny smith #tank grunt #buck grunt #general buzz grunt #rippedapart

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artzychic27 · 1 year

Note

Do you have any angst headcanons about the science kids?

Many guys have experimented with dating Marc due to him looking feminine, and then they'd break up with him a few weeks later. It's made him afraid to ever date any guys because he's worried they're only dating him just to see if they're queer or not

Because of Lucien's influence, Marc is always finding new things to hate about himself and is worried Nathaniel will get upset with him because of his "flaws". It's gotten to a point that he started dressing how he used to when he used to date Lucien

Cosette is legitimately afraid to go back to her house after school. The treatment from her siblings and mother takes a real emotional toll on her, and she doesn't want to cry in front of them and give them more ammo

Once, they tried to use concealer to cover up their vitiligo, and got scolded for it even though their mother has made it abundantly clear she despises how they look

Aurore can't remember the last time she genuinely smiled around her parents. She's always pretending to be something she's not around them, and now any emotions she displays around them are all fake

She practices every facial expression before bed and keeps a journal of "acceptable responses" to say to her parents

Whenever Simon wakes up from nightmares about his parents, he screams, but no sound comes out. It's usually a sign he'll be nonverbal for a while

When he uses sign language, there are usually people who will scold and yell at him to talk until Simon just breaks down crying and runs away

When she was thirteen, Reshma was at this socialite party her parents were throwing, and one of her dad's colleagues felt her up when he wasn't looking. He died before she could ever tell anyone what he did

Because of this, it took Reshma a while to be able to trust any male friends of her parents, and she kept pepper spray on her out of fear

Jean always blamed himself for his mother leaving him and his dad, and it took weeks for Dejah to convince him otherwise. He hardly got up out of bed, he never talked to anyone, and he gave up the things that made him happy, convinced that his interests her the reason his mom left

When he was ten, Jean wore a skirt to school and got beat up in the bathroom during study hall by some guys a grade above him. Since that day, he's been too afraid to wear skirts and dresses

Lacey hardly ever buys anything because she's saving up her money for the event her grandparents pass away and she's tasked with taking care of her brothers

Rock climbing and parkour are the activities where she feels free and unburdened. If she were to stop, then it wouldn't be pretty

Ismael has been harassed by total strangers before the moment they heard his voice. When this one guy grabbed him while he was riding the subway, he kicked him in the balls, got off, and ran to his dad's house

He's scared for the day where Reshma may find a girlfriend and have not as much time for him, so he likes to spend every single moment with her until that day

Mireille would love to be the center of attention sometimes, but her dad will always find ways to make it grander than necessary and only cause her to close in on herself more

Mireille has some repressed anger issues because of their dad and is fearful that they may take it out on their friends one of these days

Denise has a hard time saying no, and some people like to take advantage of that when they need some heavy lifting done. It tires Denise out, but they're afraid of letting people down

They've had muscle cramps since they were twelve, but refuses to tell anybody, worried no one will want their help and they'll be useless

Zoé never got to spend any time with her dad, not because he was busy, but because of Audrey. She always forced her into some "feminine" activities like beauty pageants and debutante balls which would take up all of her time, just to make herself look good

Zoé's afraid to date anyone after one particularily bad experience with this one girl back at her old school. She was just a side piece for her to experiment with while she was still dating her boyfriend

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #aurore beaureal #jean duparc #marc anciel #mireille caquet #mlb ocs #angst headcanons #answered ask #ask me stuff #science kids

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foxxydevil · 1 year

Text

Lace & Silken Shadows

So this is a lil something something I'm cooking up because I have mega brain rot. This should be a longer fic, maybe even pretty slow burn-y.

The basic principle is that Alexia, a young destitute female college graduate, gets accepted into the Alchemax bioengineering internship under Dr Miguel O'Hara. She struggles with her abusive home life, making ends meat, and her judgmental pain in the ass lab supervisor who stirs feelings in her she can not even begin to understand and he clearly has a few secret second lives of his own.

Fem!OC/Miguel O'Hara third person dark romance + superhero shenanigans

Word count: 8.6k

Content warnings ⚠️

Past child abuse, sexual trauma, prostitution, discussed current sexual abuse, mild injuries due to abuse, abuse denial, age gap, mentor/student relationship, BDSM

The Boomtown Rats droned a particularly fitting chorus in Alexia’s ear as she took the 9 train, shooting through the dim green pre dawn expanses interrupted by the bright concrete and glass structures of Nueva York.

Tell me why?

I don't like Mondays

Tell me why?

I don't like Mondays

I want to shoot

The whole day down

Grim, she thought and yawned into her hand, a wrist looped through one of the few loops hanging from the ceiling to anchor oneself with. And still, fitting. Nerves coil in her stomach, twisting her guts onto a winch with rhythmic efficiency. It wasn’t hard to feel like she was making the wrong choice, again, as hunger roiled in her stomach and she could almost feel the disgusting rubberized anti-slip flooring of the train through the thinning soles of her shoes.

Accepting the scholarships to go to college had been stupid, even if it had covered some living expenses, but an unpaid post graduate internship?

Alexia's mom's screams of how selfish she was still stung in her ears.

Her heavily pregnant sister-in-law's sneer burned into the backs of her eyes.

Somehow the bruises on her back and the way her shoulder ached as she held onto the wrist strap didn’t seem nearly as bad as the words that had bloomed just as deep on repeat in her mind when her brother had shoved her into the doorframe.

“Selfish little princess.”

“So you're just going to let us all starve for your useless BS?”

“I have done nothing but care for you under this roof since dad died. All you do is take and think you're so much better than us.”

Those memories of screaming and shoving from the last few weeks since she had told them the news about being accepted into the internship program crowded her mind, distracting her from the other morning commuters.

Their own little girl

Sweet 16 ain't so peachy keen

No, it ain't so neat to admit defeat

They can see no reasons

'Cause there are no reasons

What reason do you need?

I can give you at least 3 good reasons, Bob Geldof, she thought as the band launched into the repeating chorus once more and the train drove into a tunnel, transforming the window into a dim mirror.

Fuck, were the bags under her eyes always that obvious? And were the windows smudged or did her bun really have that many drab colored flyaways.

At least she was running a comfortable - more like overly anxious - hour early for the first day of her Alchemax internship. She could probably fix herself up a little nicer in a Starbucks bathroom if they didn't require a purchase. She couldn't afford the dollar menu for breakfast much less a 5$ coffee that would only turn her empty stomach gurgling into agonizing cramps.

And daddy doesn't understand it

He always said she was as good as gold

And he can see no reasons

'Cause there are no reasons

What reason do you need to be shown?

Sorry daddy, it's been a couple of years. You probably wouldn’t recognize me anymore. I had to sell all my gold to keep the house.

It was a bittersweet feeling thinking of her dad today. He may not recognize her, but she hoped he would understand what she had to do, that she had to do it for both of their dreams to come true.

Growing up, before she could even walk on her own, her dad had taken Alexia to work with him, boasting about how she was a junior engineer, and someday, she'll work there too.

And today was that day.

As she stepped off the train, she took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. She glances up at the towering building that houses Alchemax and couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of starting her internship finally, after all the work she had done to stand there.

Of course it wasn't the first time she had stood in this very spot. Aside from the interviews for the internship, her father had been one of their top engineers. He'd even run his own lab.

Alexia grinned to herself as she walked across the plaza to the crowded chain coffee shop. A line snaked out of the building despite the early hour but she wasn't there to order. She walked to the front counter.

"Bathroom code?" Alexia asked the already tired looking barista and coiled the kinked white plastic headphone cord around her ancient, barely working, mp3 player before shoving it into her ancient canvas backpack.

He gave her a blank stare before reluctantly rattling off the code. Alexia thanked him and quickly made her way to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She washed her face with cold water and tried to tidy her hair as best she could. She looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. You can do this, she told herself. You can succeed.

She grimaced at the too small, too off white, button up shirt she wore, the very last button hole secured with a safety pin. One of her brother's friends had popped the plastic button off the other night while tearing at the cheap yellowing fabric with an urgency that still flashed through her mind accompanied with a surge of fear that made her want to heave her empty stomach into the sink.

Her skirt wasn't in much better condition. Despite being black originally it had a gray-ish worn out tinge from being washed a few too many times, having outlived its destined fast fashion lifespan. She knew she should have been wearing sheer tights under it, the expected clean look of a Nueva York business woman, but she hadn't owned an intact pair in years.

Alexia sighed and splashed some more water on her face, as if she could wash away the negative thoughts. She had spent too long letting her circumstances define her, elegant sheer tights or not she was making a new life for herself.

Even being 45 minutes early to her scheduled office hours she decided to head into the intimidatingly dark Alchemax building across the brick courtyard anyways. The front receptionist hadn't even laid out all the badges for new interns on the desk yet, a group of about two dozen hopeful headshots looking up at her from their plastic sleeves growing one by one in neat rows.

Alexia was the only one of the group that had the designation "bioengineering" printed in an all caps cobalt font under her portrait. While Alchemax pursued many scientific fields, none were quite as selective as bioengineering, she had earned high marks in her college courses even with her unusual work schedule to qualify for the prestigious field and stand out among all the other applicants. She grinned as she snagged up the card, a renewed sense of pride warming her chest to push out the fear and anxiety.

“Dr O’Hara already came in a few minutes ago. You can head up to the 15th floor rather than wait. I’m sure he’s not preparing a presentation for you anyways,” the receptionist said, shaking Alexia from her thoughts.

Was that a sympathetic or pained look in her eyes? Oh shit-

“Oh- yeah for sure no point in the full production for just one intern,” Alexia answered with a lopsided grin, trying to sooth her nerves with some humor, give herself more of a chance to see if the receptionist was hinting at a far less dire reason she shouldn't bother waiting.

The look the receptionist gave her was definitely sympathy, that and pity. The look one gave someone who was terminal.

Alexia laughed nervously before turning to make her way to the elevator, not having to wait for the direction to go past the center escalator in the hall and to the row of silver doors hidden behind it. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain in her gut again. She could only hope that she would be able to meet the expectations of her mentors and live up to her father's legacy and dreams for her. The elevator doors opened and she stepped in, her heart pounding in her chest.

While most of the other interns would be directed to a variety of conference rooms for their first day and introduction to the company, she was to go directly to the lab. Dr O'Hara, it would seem, did not have a separate office space or need for a larger room.

That sympathetic cringe the receptionist had given her set her mind spinning with worry again. She pictured a stern and intimidating figure, someone who would judge her based on her appearance and pedigree, not on her abilities and work ethic. As she walked down the hallway after a gut lurching short trip up, her footsteps echoed in the silence, the sound of her own breathing deafening as it crowded out every thought with beginnings of an anxiety attack lurking in the recesses of her mind.

A deep voice called out to her from a nearby room. "Hey- are you the new intern?"

Alexia looked over to see a dark haired man standing in the doorway, his suit neatly pressed and tie perfectly knotted. He stared at her, his eyes tired with dark bags that emphasized his already deep set eyes with thick brows hooding his narrowed eyes as if he was already over this interaction, annoyed at the inconvenience of her very existence.

"Yes! Alexia-"

"Uh," she realized her mistake almost immediately as the pause drew out just slightly too long to add her last name naturally, introducing herself by her first name alone. She narrowly avoided her legs tangling under her as she made the sharp stop and turn, walking with a confident proud stride that didn’t exactly match the restricted proper stride of most pencil skirts, the material too worn out to give her the ladylike gait.

Her hand stretched out in an offered handshake. "Alexia Gates."

The man stared at her hand for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he reached out and gripped her hand firmly, his gaze returning to hers.

"Dr O'Hara," he answered, his voice low and gravelly. "You’re early, that's something. Let's get to the lab."

His voice had a rhythmic quality, a scripted practice that hinted at a cool ego he hadn't expected him to be so- large. She never thought of herself as short. Alexia stood a respectable 5'6, neither tall nor tiny. Dr O'Hara dwarfed her, not only because he was at least a foot taller than her but because he was twice her weight, pure muscle. His face wasn’t unfamiliar of course, she had looked him up in the college library almost as soon as she had received her acceptance letter with her program details, but his presence online had been limited to a short corporate bio along with a portrait that was only a few years older than the portrait that glowered at her from the badge clipped to his chest, clearly not one for social media or media engagement in general.

She nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. It was a bad habit, one that sometimes led to the iron tang of blood in her mouth but people rarely noticed, not paying much attention to her face in her field of work.

"Right, yes. The lab," Alexia agreed.

As they started to walk her eyes assessed her new mentor, picking up any details she could glean from his movements alone. Dr O'Hara didn’t so much as walk as he prowled, his shoulders were massive and rolled forward. It wasn't quite in the same way that most tall men seemed to have a permanently shrinked hunch to their posture, used to training themselves into a less intimidating posture, but like Atlas balancing the sky on his shoulders.

They reached the lab without another word while Alexia considered if she was supposed to say something, to make a good impression on the man that the receptionist had seemed to regard as her executioner. She thought better of it as Dr O'Hara tapped his badge to the door lock and held the door for her, gesturing for her to take a seat at his desk at the far side of the room.

She walked ahead of him, feeling his strangely red eyes burning into her back.

Not red, she told herself. A weird brown like clay, people don’t have red eyes.

She slid into the chair, crossing her legs instinctively and placing her hands, one on top of the other, on her knees. It was a defensive position, closed off and protective of her core. Her green eyes followed him as he made his way to the mesh desk chair on the other side of the wide cluttered desk, too focused on deciding if he was a threat or not to take a good look at the rest of the lab.

Of course he was a threat in her mind, look at him.

Alexia launched into the empty pleasant words she knew most men with an ego liked. If she wanted to learn and drag herself into a new life, she could stroke some egos and make pleasant sounds at self important men. If she wanted to survive this world instead of rotting away on the streets, she had to stay on her toes. She couldn't afford Starbucks coffee, much less useless pride.

"I appreciate the opportunity to work with you-"

"Save the pleasantries, Ms Gates. We have a lot of work to do." Dr O'Hara cut her off mid-sentence, his tone sharp and biting,

Her eyes narrowed as her mouth slowly closed, forgetting those little niceties. Ok, maybe fuck not having pride.

"It's called manners, Dr O'Hara. Some of us have them," she answered, voice clipped, before she could stop herself. She knew her greatest downfall was her inability to shut up when annoyed. Even still, she didn't apologize or show any outward signs of regretting the words.

She could already tell the man in front of her wasn't used to getting any lip back, it would probably do him some good and humble him a bit if he didn’t fire her immediately.

Miguel, the name she had gleaned from his online bio since he hadn’t given her his first name, leaned forward in his chair, his eyes boring into her, "Ms Gates, let's be clear. I am not interested in your pleasantries or your opinions. I am here to work, and I expect you to get in line in my lab and not interrupt my day. I did not request an intern, nor am I interested in putting on a kids' lab day. You will stay out of my way and entertain yourself, making yourself useful whenever possible."

A shiver ran down her spine at his direct cold statement. His words had an almost rhythmic quality, the only hint at an accent that matched his tiger eye skin. She idly wondered why everything about him seemed hard as stone from his grinding voice, to his garnet eyes that definitely had to be a normal brown in a more natural lighting.

"I am not here to be your simpering lackey. I'm here to learn hands on and earn my credits, the actual point of an internship. I expect to be respected as a graduate intern who is here on merit and not pay, not treated like a clueless brat," she pushed back, unable to help herself even though every instinct in her told her to shut up or he would lash out and do what men do, take what they desire regardless of what she needs.

Miguel's eyes narrowed as he considered her words, "I respect your determination, Ms Gates, but I will not stand for insubordination. Here’s your first lesson, don’t talk that way to the person who will decide whether or not you actually get a job in this company."

"I will be your lab intern, run any tests or data you like," she agreed, but her eyes were still hard, matching the gemstone hardness of his eyes piercing into her, still determined to lay down her boundaries and not be dismissed when she knew she was worth this internship. "- but I am not some secretary or personal assistant. I do not run around for coffee orders or your dry cleaning."

Alexia was stubborn to a fault, her foot tapping in the air to an anxious beat and flashing the worn-out bottoms of her soles, unintentionally drawing attention to her less than fashionable attire. Dr O'Hara studied her for a moment, his face the picture of exhaustion despite the day just beginning.

“Well, you actually will be doing that. That’s what an intern is. Or did you think we just hired some fresh out of school kids for the fun of it?” he scoffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“You take on fresh out of school adults to learn in the field so we can earn a paid position. I wouldn't call an unpaid internship employment, Dr O'Hara,” Alexia countered, holding perfectly still. She would stand her ground and not give him an inch, but she wasn’t relaxed enough to put on a confident swagger.

“Call it whatever you want, chica. I call it ‘being used’. Welcome to the real world,” he answered, his voice dripping with condescension.

“Oh, I am plenty experienced with how the real world likes to use people up,” Alexia scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “I was under the impression that Alchemax cultivates brilliance, not wastes it.”

“They like the idea of cultivating brilliance. But when it comes to actually doing it- well, that’s a completely different ball game.”

“Maybe drop the bitter tone when you are the one refusing to cultivate. You have one intern, not a herd like the other departments, I'm sure there are far more useful things for me to help with than running errands,” Alexia countered, hoping a little reasoning would work on her reluctant mentor.

“You know, you’re exactly like every other intern. You think you’re so special, that you’re gonna change this place, but you’re just the same as all of the others- in over your head and going nowhere,” Dr O’Hara observed with cruelty and his latin accent became a little more noticeable as his annoyance grew, “I bet in a month’s time, your so called ‘brilliance’ won’t be worth a dime and if anyone remembers you at all it’ll just be as the office coffee girl.”

“I won't be changing this place, but my work will change the world. Not because I'm special, but because I am determined and unlike the other pedigree kids, I need this. They can drop out and cry to their parents. I need the paid offer after the internship,” Alexia spat out, vaguely aware that she shouldn’t be showing so much frustration even as she leaned forward in her chair.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, cure Huntington's disease? You think we take pity on kids who need this? You think we’re gonna hire you just because you have ‘need’ on your resume? That’s not how it works, chica.”

“There is a difference between need and want, Dr O'Hara,” Alexia said through clenched teeth. “When an animal wants, it makes big pouty eyes and begs. When an animal needs, it will chew off its own leg. Nothing stands in the way of its need. I need this and that's what sets me apart. I will do anything I need to to learn and rise above.”

“Sounds like you’ve got drive, which is more than most people,” Dr O’Hara admitted, his brows rising slightly. Was he impressed? “Maybe you’ll make something of yourself in this world after all. But if you want my advice? You’d better take that energy you’re putting into selling yourself- and put it into not pissing me off.”

‘Selling yourself’, that hit a little too close to home for Alexia and she just barely held back a wince.

“Show me an ounce of basic respect for a mentee, and I will respect you as a mentor,” she countered, hating the common demand for respect by men worth far less than the clothes on their back.

“Oh, I see. You’re one of those. You want respect? How ‘bout earn it?” he smeared, his full lips turning up into an amused grin that was closer to a snarl.

“Ah, so you mean ‘treat me like a God or I won't treat you like a person’ when you say 'earn respect’?” Alexia leaned back in her chair again with a roll of her eyes, any hope for finding something worthwhile in the man in front of her gone.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” the older man growled, clearly not enjoying the image she was painting of him. “If you want me to do something for you- like say, teaching you instead of letting you run and fetch- then let me see if you’re actually capable of doing things for me. You think I’m gonna tell my bosses and my colleagues that I should hire you because I feel bad for you? That’s not how things work here. So yeah, earn it.”

“Oh, I am more than ready to earn your recommendation,” Alexia said, standing up and placing her palms flat on his desk. “I am qualified for this internship, I can collect and compile data for you and make base analysis for you to review. I earned this internship by being at the top of my course. ‘Go and fetch’ unfortunately wasn't covered.”

“You know, you’ve got more spunk than any of these other interns I’ve had,” he observed, sounding near defeated or just exhausted. “Fine. Collect some data for me and write me up an analysis, and you can work with me in the field instead of doing coffee runs. You got 48 hours.”

Alexia nodded, a little self satisfied and victorious smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She felt proud for standing up to herself and, from all appearances, gaining an ounce of Dr O'Hara's respect.

Despite herself she felt a growing need for more than him simply relenting to her stubbornness. She felt a desire to make him proud of her as well. She wanted to be more than just an annoying student to him. Alexia wanted him to see her as a peer. As these thoughts swirled in her mind, she barely noticed Dr O'Hara walked around his desk and approached her.

"Now, let's get started on your training, Ms Gates."

She straightened her back as he walked up to her, feeling a tinge of nervousness at his approach. Standing straighter didn't exactly help all that much.

"What would you have me do, Dr O'Hara?" she asked, falling into the comfortable familiarity of referring to him just as she had her professors before graduating college. While she was now 23, it was hard to peg down exactly how old Miguel O'Hara was, though it was safe to say he had at least a decade on her. She couldn't help but feel intimidated by his height and presence, but she did her best not to let it show. Miguel looked at her, his eyes piercing and intense.

"Follow me, Ms Gates. I have something I need to discuss with you." He led her through the lab, his lack of hesitation showing his confidence that she would follow his orders.

Alexia did all but scramble after him, gritting her teeth in annoyance with his tendency to leave her behind and expect her to chase after him already. Within a few steps, she had caught up to him, so that she walked only a step behind him, glaring at the middle of his back, the pure white expanse of his lab coat annoying her.

As they walked through the lab, she could hear the sound of his leather shoes against the tiled floor, the sound echoing through the lab. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to her, his face unreadable.

"Ms Gates, I want you to lift your skirt." He said, his voice calm and collected, as if he hadn’t just made a demand so out of the blue, Alexia swore she heard a phantom record scratch. Maybe it was just the blade of disappointment that sliced through her mind, destroying the small inkling of hope that had warmed her only for a moment.

"What?!"

She had to skid to a stop, stumbling back a few steps. She realized they had gone around a corner, no longer visible from the only entrance in the lab. Her eyes burned with fury, her assumptions of him clear as day. She saw him as just another horny man who thought he could take from her.

But he pointed to a yellowed bruise on the inside of her thigh that was just barely visible under her skirt.

"I want you to show me the bruises on your body," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I need to know if they are a result of consensual... interactions, or if they are something else. As your mentor I have a vested interest in ensuring my employees are in a safe environment."

Alexia's face burned. Not just mortified but ashamed of how quickly he'd noticed, how careless she'd been. She was not about to admit to this intimidating stranger, a man she wanted to respect her, that there were many more and they had absolutely not been her choice. The absolute absurdity of this sudden shift sent her mind spinning.

"I think this is highly inappropriate, Dr O'Hara," she fumed, hoping her anger portrayed her as a woman who was embarrassed, not guilty of his assumptions. "I think what the state of my body is is none of your business."

Miguel eyed her as he considered her words. "Ms Gates, I am your employer, and I expect a certain level of professionalism and trust from you. I will not stand for insubordination or dishonesty." He stepped closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"And I will not be exposing myself at my workplace," she hissed between clenched teeth, her fists balling at her sides and refusing to back down even a single inch.

"You will not touch me, Dr O'Hara," she sneered, assuming his approach was to force her compliance. "You will not touch me, do you understand?"

He cocked his head, his nostrils flaring and it was as if her words were a physical strike that he flinched back from.

"Ms Gates, I understand a situation like this could be misinterpreted, but I do not intend to touch you. I assure you that when you show me these bruises, I will respect your boundaries."

To Alexia's surprise he clearly seemed offended, possibly hurt, at the accusation she had thrown her way.

Her face heated as she looked down, her eyes burning into his chest without actually seeing him.

"That bruise is the only one, a clumsy accident," she tried to explain, blatantly lying through her teeth and hoping he would just back off even if she had to portray herself as a clutz. "I'm fine, really. You don't need to worry about it."

Miguel crossed his arms over his chest, his face pulled into hard lines of barely controlled restraint. "Ms Gates, this is a non-negotiable for my employment. That was the last time you will ever lie to me," he paused, and Alexia could hear the unspoken threat hanging between his words. “Tell me you understand. If you wish to be taught by me, I need you to show me these bruises, otherwise you can leave."

It was unexpected for her, the mere option of refusing his demand. Of course, she would lose her dream if she did not comply, but he wasn't going to force her. He was giving her a choice.

"I understand," she gritted out, feeling so much more like a chastised child than a grown woman being told to expose herself, and somehow, as absurd as it seemed, it helped. It made her feel like he genuinely wasn't just trying to leer at her, but was a protective figure trying to gauge her situation to see if she was safe.

"What are you worried about?" Dr O'Hara asked, his voice kept low but it was impossible to tell if he was trying to be soothing or if he was holding back rage, maybe both.

"You, Dr O'Hara- you worry me."

"Elaborate, Ms Gates," he continued to push at her, making her open her thoughts to him.

“You’re smart and strict like my previous professors, you clearly have the qualifications and experience to be a fantastic mentor in this program, but you have the approach and temperament of a barbaric di-” she suddenly cut herself off, realizing she was letting her own temper get her into more potential trouble.

“Language is permissible in my lab, Ms Gates,” he allowed, apparently not considering her words a sign of disrespect this time. “As long as it’s used constructively.”

She narrows her eyes right back. “I was going to say dickhead, but I’m not sure if that's entirely constructive.”

“Give me an example of my alleged behavior, and I’ll decide.”

"You just hauled me around to a private corner and told me to lift my skirt with no explanation or warning beforehand. Asking about the bruise first would have been the least you could do," she snapped, fidgeting with the stretched hem of her skirt with her fingers.

“This is just an examination, for your own good. Nothing inappropriate," he insisted instead, his sheer mass uncompromising. “I’m waiting.”

She starts lifting the hem of her shirt up to uncover her torso, just below her breasts so he could see the band of her black bra but nothing more. Around her hips, only a few days ago, there were more bruises, clear marks of a painful grip but they had faded, he couldn't see anything.

"See, nothing." She said, her voice strained as she tried to keep it together. "I'm fine."

He lowered himself into a squat, his gaze traveling over Alexia's torso, the low waistband of her skirt, then dropping to the knee-length hem. “Now raise your skirt.”

His bent position puts him eye-level with her pelvis, despite his hulking size, and she was momentarily distracted by the soft curls of his dark brown hair, as if her mind was trying to slip away from this dangerous situation rather than experience it.

Physically, he was in an unusual position for a man in her experience. He was lower than her, his face below her waist. More vulnerable, right? She tried to reason in her own mind. Yet he was still trying to take in a way. Alexia could knee him in the nose and run. But the need or want wasn't quite rising up the way she expected it to.

Alexia bunched her skirt up with both fists, lifting it only three inches above her knees, stubbornly refusing to expose herself any more as she kept her gaze lowered, not meeting his eyes.

"Ms Gates, please. This is not an interrogation. I just need to know if there are any other marks on your body that should not be there."

His voice whispered roughly into the foot of space separating his face and her thighs. His hands were there, too, dangling between them, close enough to grab her between the legs if that was his plan. A slight tremble twitched through his fingers, and her shoulders tightened. She shook her head after hesitating, a clear lie but she couldn't voice it. She'd promised herself she wouldn't show weakness.

"Alexia," Miguel said, his tone becoming more stern, as he took in her discomfort. "Keep lifting your skirt."

Alexia took a deep, shaky breath, forcing herself to look down at him. She tried her best to focus past her humiliation.

She lifted her skirt more, until the worn out blackish gray fabric was just barely concealing the purple cotton of her panties.

“Widen your stance.”

She slid her feet out, wobbling with the effort just to keep breathing.

“Just like that,” he breathed, his voice as low as sin. “Good girl.”

His praise wrapped around her like a warm hug. Alexia couldn't remember the last time someone embraced her without hurting her, but if Dr O'Hara spent the next nine months calling her a good girl, she might never need a hug again. The sensation of fear and comfort was dizzying. Who was this man, and why was she not running?

He dipped his head, angling closer. “I’m looking for marks on your inner thighs.”

There were in fact more bruises, some more obvious in their origin than others. Some teeth and some hands. Others were just angry splotches of sickly color.

Alexia's face stayed carefully blank, not revealing the nature of the marks on her skin as she digested her own whirlwind of emotions.

Miguel's eyes scanned her body, his expression remaining as unreadable as her own.

"Alexia," he said, his voice low and commanding. Was that the first time he said her first name? No, he said it before too. She was again distracted, this time by the sound of her name on his lips. "I'll remind you that I need you to be completely honest with me, at all times."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, fighting to focus.

"Ok, Dr O'Hara," she answered, her voice stiff, only robotic as she stood in front of him, her thighs completely exposed, staring him down with her steely green eyes. "I understand."

Miguel nodded, his eyes back on hers, the impossible dark red hue seeming to boil with some heat she could not place with confidence.

"I need to know if these bruises are a result of consensual interactions, or if they are something else."

"I wasn't raped," Alexia said firmly, defensively even as if she was insulting her for even insinuating that 'weakness'. Everything in her face said she believed that she was being honest. But the lack of elaboration was concerning. She hadn't said no. She hadn't fought back. She had allowed it to happen. She had allowed it to happen again and again.

Miguel's expression darkened, his eyes never leaving hers. "You don't need to be defensive, Alexia. I just want the truth."

She pulled her skirt back down, preferring the anger that boiled in her stomach to the uncertainty of not understanding his motives and the feelings his words stirred in her.

"None of this is any of your concern, Dr O'Hara," she repeated, emphasizing his name to put distance between them when he had slipped into using her first name. "I can handle my own probleMsms."

Miguel took a step towards her, his eyes still locked on hers. "Alexia, you can't handle this on your own. You need help, and I'm here to give it to you."

"I am here to intern in your lab," she shot back, teeth bared like a snarling wolf. "I would appreciate it if we could refocus this orientation on your work in the lab and not my personal life."

Miguel's eyes narrowed, his words turning cold once more, "Don't try to change the subject, Alexia. I won't allow it." He takes another step towards her, his body tense as if ready to fight.

"You don't have a choice in what is or isn't allowed," she answered, standing firm but crossing her arms under her chest, feeling cornered despite having the option to turn and run. "I am just an intern here, Dr O'Hara. I don't have to submit to your demands."

Miguel's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly regains his composure.

"On the contrary, Ms Gates. This is my lab, and you are my intern. You will submit to questions and my interest in your safety, or you will no longer be my intern."

Alexia bit her lip, her eyes darting around the room as she contemplated her options.

"Fine," she snapped, her eyes meeting his again. He wanted to ask questions? He could ask questions. It wouldn't be her fault if the answers made him uncomfortable.

"I wasn't assaulted. I allowed it to happen. I allowed it to happen again and again," her voice was cold and detached, as if she was recounting a grocery list rather than speaking about something so personal.

"Unfortunately I don't take coworkers or supervisors as clients, so you're out of luck," she sneered, needing the biting edge to sooth her own insecurity, bring her back from the dark pool of dissociation that drew her in with a different kind of comforting embrace.

Miguel's eyes widened slightly, his composure broken for the moment.

"That's not what I asked, Alexia," he said, his voice calm but with a hint of warning. "I asked you to be honest with me, and I expect nothing less."

"I am being honest. Are you fishing for proof? Trying to see how open I'd be to you toying with me?" Her question sounded like a taunt, another jab to get him to back off, but something in her eyes said that was truely what she thought of him.

Miguel shook his head, his expression softening slightly. "No, Alexia. I'm not fishing for proof. I simply want to know what happened so that I can better help you." He stepped closer to her again, his eyes locked on hers.

This time she did step back. His tenderness seemed to scare her more than his harsh words. Anger was easy and predictable, his kindness screamed of tempting manipulation. A facet of masculinity she did not see often and trusted less.

"Fuck off, Dr O'Hara." She spat, turning to leave.

Miguel caught her arm, his grip firm but gentle.

"Alexia, please. Let me help you." He pleaded, his voice low and earnest. "I care about you, and I want to make sure that you are safe."

She huffed, indignant, and turned to leave.

A man she barely knew, caring for her? BS

Miguel held her arm, his grip firm but gentle, stopping her from leaving. "Don't walk away from me, Alexia."

She whipped around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. His strength was overwhelming, even just his arm on hers wouldn't budge an inch as she tried to yank away. Still, this was much more comfortable.

"Don't enjoy the view?" She sneered. "You should focus on your work, Dr O'Hara. I don't need your protection."

Miguel's grip on her arm tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he leaned in close, his eyes intense and focused on her.

"Here’s today's lesson," he erased the distance between them leaning into her space. "Don’t question me. Don’t lie to me. And never look away from me." He straightens. "Sit down."

He pulled one of the lab chairs towards them, angling it for Alexia to sit. They were ridiculous demands and yet she found herself sitting.

"If you slip up, I will punish you," he promised, his voice low and dangerous. "I do not accept excuses or sniveling. Any distractions, any problems in your life affect our lab work and I will leave my own welts on your pretty ass." He punctuated his words with an intensity and confidence that shocked her, had he really just said that?

Alexia swallowed hard, feeling a mix of fear and arousal. She hated being bossed around, but she also found herself drawn to the power in Miguel's words.

Her pupils expanded as she looked up at him. Approval shone in his face at whatever he saw in hers. He smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Good girl," he said again, the two words sparking through her veins. His voice had softened again as he released her. "Now, let's get back to work." He turned as if to go somewhere, but paused to look back over his shoulder. "And make sure you wear a damn damn lab coat."

It was far from the first time she had been referred to as a good girl. Generally the words felt demeaning, more insulting than genuine. The warm tension in her stomach, the tension that shot further down, made her crave those words in a maddening confusing way.

She shook her head, trying to shake off the feeling like a mutt shaking of the rain rain.

"I- I don't have a lab coat," she said, flushing with embarrassment.

"I didn't say you had to have one, you have to wear one," he said, his eyes holding on to her with a raised brow, not quite grasping what the issue was.

She felt the fire in her stomach lessen, but she still felt flushed.

"I don't have one-" she repeated.

"Get one," he interrupted her as if she answer was obvious and she was simply dull.

"Can it wait until the beginning of the month? I don't have the cash right now..." she clenched her jaw, muscles tightening. She'd been hoping to get a new pair of shoes now that she'd be on her feet all day again. Well, not new, just newer. She'd get lucky if she found a lab coat at goodwill with it not being Halloween.

Miguel sighed, his expression softening slightly but annoyance at this petty inconvenience pulled at his face, irking Alexia.

"Alright, I'll cover it for now," he said, pulling out his wallet. "But you have to manage your finances better. We can't have our brightest minds distracted by trivial matters."

Her pride choked her off, but not only her pride. In her life, there was only one reason a man did kind things, and that was to put a woman into debt to him so he could demand from her body.

"So kind of you," she said, sarcastically. "But I don't rely on charity, Dr O'Hara. I will keep your brilliant financial advice in mind."

Miguel narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening again.

"I don't give charity, Alexia. I expect something in return." He stepped forward, his body inches from hers. "And if you don't deliver, we will have a problem."

This time she did lean back, her hackles raised.

"That is exactly what I was worried about. I have no interest in delivering on any of your disgusting demands," she snapped back. It was maybe presumptuous of her to imagine his expected payment as lewd but that was her experience with life, the evidence of that were in the bruises under her clothes that he had seen. She couldn't afford to be naive.

Miguel's expression darkened, his jaw clenching with anger. "You have no idea what you're dealing with, Alexia," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I think we both know that I have a very good idea of what I'm dealing with, Miguel," she shot back, matching his tone. If he was going to insist on using her first name then he would get the same, regardless of his preferences. "I will not be put in the position of being indebted to a man who thinks he can take what doesn't belong to him."

Miguel's eyes narrowed, his expression cold. "I will make you an offer, Alexia," he said, his voice low and calculated.

"Enlighten me," she ground out, too curious not to hear his offer though it was clear from the tension in her shoulders that she already planned to reject it.

Miguel took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly. "I will give you a clean slate," he said. "No more debts, no more bruises. I will help you rise above your circumstances and become the successful woman I know you can be." He paused, his eyes holding hers.

"I will be doing that regardless of your help," she answered stubbornly. It was a tempting offer, as Alchemax's top bioengineer Alexia had no doubt he was living comfortably. "What would you require for your generous offer?"

Miguel smiled, his expression confident. "Simple," he said. "A little obedience, a little respect. I will train you to become the best version of yourself." He stepped closer, his body inches from hers.

"Bullshit," she answered, standing her ground and squaring her shoulders. "You would require that regardless. Why would you give me a 'clean slate' for something that's already expected?"

Miguel shook his head, his eyes holding hers. "Because I know your potential, Alexia. I see it in your eyes when you talk about your work. And I want to help you realize that potential," he said, his voice earnest. "And I won't take anything that doesn't belong to me."

Alexia's sharp green eyes considered him for a moment. She still deeply distrusted him, had no reason to trust any man, but the offer was so tempting. She knew she was worth it, that she had things to offer this lab and the world as a whole that only she would be able to accomplish. She had no doubts about her abilities, only the chances of her surviving long enough to realize her potential.

"And what exactly does a clean slate entail?" she asked, the hesitation in her voice already giving away that she would cave and agree. She still believed Dr O'Hara would take advantage of her body, but what difference would it make if it was him or some guy off the street? She needed a chance to prove herself, and this seemed to be her best option.

Miguel smiled, his expression smug as he saw her stubbornness start to give.

"It means a new beginning, Alexia," he said, his tone condescending. "A chance to start over and achieve your goals. It means becoming the best you can be, free from any distractions." He stepped closer, his body inches from hers.

"I know what you're trying to sell," she retorted, annoyed. He sounded like a car salesman, raving about the features of the car when you asked for the price.

At least that's what she imagined a car salesman would do, she had never bought a car before.

"What are you giving? Clean slate? I'm not going to magically be able to pay my bills and be 'distraction free' just because you said so with an unpaid internship. If I had better options for a job I would have taken them."

He stepped even closer, his face only inches from hers. "You will work for me three nights a week, in exchange for room and board," he said.

"You want me to abandon my family to the streets so I can be an in-house prostitute?" She sneered, his assumptions about this 'work' he was offering clear.

Miguel's expression darkened. "Do not insult me, Alexia," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I have offered you a chance to change your life for the better. And you will not turn it down."

"I do not need your help. All I am here for is this internship under you. I will sort the rest out myself," she decided, stubbornly.

Refusing his offer was hard but she was far too proud to give in to the one person who's respect she wanted. All she could see now was that he was just like every other man, ignoring her true potential for a chance at her body.

Miguel shook his head, his expression twisting with disappointment.

"I warned you, Alexia," he said, his voice cold. "If you don't accept my offer, you will be nothing more than a used up, forgotten whore for the rest of your life."

Alexia's shoulders rolled back, stretching to her full height that was nothing compared to his. Despite her confidence and strength of will she was still small. She knew she should back down, but couldn't.

"That's where you're wrong, Dr O'Hara. My name will go down in history. I will far surpass any measly legacy you leave behind with your step stone findings or as my mentor," she answered, her eyes alight with that passion, a confident promise her father had whispered in her ear before he died. "My name will be in every textbook for the next 150 years."

Miguel's eyes narrowed, his expression a mix of annoyance and admiration.

"You are one stubborn woman," he said, his voice a mere mutter of frustration at her words. "But I admire your determination. I will give you one more chance to reconsider my offer."

"I am not interested in being your free use slut in exchange for a place to live. I don't need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself."

Miguel's e eyes filled with a dangerous intensity. "What is giving you the idea that I want you to prostitute yourself to me? Is that how you make money now?" he asked, his voice a low growl. He had assumed that she had an abusive boyfriend or something similar. Her immediate assumption of sex in exchange for his help opened up other possibilities.

"What I do outside of this lab is none of your concern," she repeated her earlier words, but there was uncertainty in her eyes. He didn't just deny her allegations, he was disgusted. If that wasn't his intent then what was? Was he really different? "I will not be in debt to you."

Miguel shook his head, his expression unreadable. "You are far too proud for your own good, Alexia," he said. "But you will learn humility under my care. You will learn to respect those who help you, and be grateful for what they give you." He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you will earn my respect."

"And I can do all that the normal way, without you demanding to see my skin or forcing me to live where you want me to live," she stood her ground.

"You don't truly understand what I'm offering you, Alexia."

This time, Alexia finally took a step towards him, refusing to let him intimidate her.

"Then explain," she demanded, eyes cold. "Stop being vague and threatening and explain exactly what you're offering me and what you expect me to give as payment for your generosity."

Miguel took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly. "I'm not asking for anything in return, Alexia," he said, his voice calm and reasonable. "I simply want to help you get to where you want to be in life. And I can offer you the resources to do so." He gestured towards the lab around them.

Alexia looked around, her eyes gave away her thoughts. She wanted to believe him, she wanted his words to be true and to finally have a little help in the world.

"I can't trust that," she said, her voice surprisingly soft, even in her own ears. It felt like a confession more than a rejection. "Nothing is free."

"Go home, Ms Gates," Dr O’Hara ordered, but there was none of the expected rejection in his own voice.

Alexia looked up at him, her eyes wide not in confusion but fear that he was firing her, judging her not worth his time. Why did this man have to be the only one alive who's approval she sought?

"Think about what I'm offering, get yourself a lab coat, and come back tomorrow morning," her mentor listed another few orders, his voice and the sheer exhaustion in his shoulders hinting at some line of thought that Alexia couldn't begin to guess at. "8:30 am, sharp."

#fanfic #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv fanfiction #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel smut #atsv smut

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fizzingwizard · 1 year

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I had a shitty day yesterday, and a great day today. And if you asked me beforehand, I would have said I expected it to be the opposite. (just work stuff)

Yesterday a kid had a bad tantrum, and my boss, instead of helping how I would have liked (by taking care of my other kids who were not screaming their heads off), instead helped by taking away the tantrum student. It may be that she really thought she was helping. But in my opinion, she undercut my authority and left me and my student not having closure with each other. This student is very bright, but has a three-year-old's sense of injustice. When she's upset, she melts down completely and she needs a calm but firm manner, and most of all time, to be able to settle down. What she doesn't need is to be passed around and cooed over and babied. She was not being hurt, she was not getting yelled at, no one lost their temper, she was not being prevented from having something it was reasonable for her to have.

(I mention because another time my boss stepped in when our most defiant kid was taken aside for spitting at other kids over and over, and she laughed and played with him until he started to spit at her too. Then she gave him back to me and said, "Oh, I thought maybe he had something in his mouth and that's why he wa spitting, but I guess not." Look, if he had something in his mouth we would have known. First of all, this is happening at lunch time! Second of all, this is totally normal behavior for this kid. We are trying to teach him how to control his impulses, not reward them! I can see how she thought she was helping, but she's only helping in a world where the classroom teachers are incompetent...)

Anyway, the tantrum student was perfectly happy after the fact, like she always is. Her violence is mostly an act to get what she wants. It is totally normal behavior for a strong-willed three-year-old and I've been handling it regularly all year. I didn't need help. And I don't like that I didn't get to hug and reassure my student myself when she was upset. I especially don't like not knowing why my boss decided to get involved. Whether she really thought she was helping, even when I told her straight that I wanted to handle this myself, or if she didn't like how I was handling it, or has some other issue with me that she hasn't bothered to tell me about. I literally just had an observation where a leader spent the day in my class, and she wrote about how wonderful and professional I am. Not to toot my own horn, but I care about my kids, and I wouldn't run my classroom indifferently. So if my boss has an issue with me I'll be surprised, but I'd rather she tell me what it is than just interfere whenever she feels like it. Of course, she may have simply meant to help and not realized that she wasn't, even though I told her so...

So I was upset pretty much all night. In fact, I felt so bad that I almost thought I was having a little adult tantrum of my own, lol. It occurred to me that maybe PMS played a role. But like always when it comes to hormones, you can only guess and you have no proof except a "feeling," which might as well be an excuse. So I got no relief from that either and just hated myself all night.

Then, today! I wake up. Got my period. Woohoo! Already thinking it'll be another shitty day. I'll have cramps and pain, but still have to whiz around like usual, and deal with the meltdowns while being extra tired and sore. I did have some ibuprofen, which took the edge off. And then, somehow, the day went really well. I was a little uncomfortable, but far from the worst it's ever been, and my kids were weirdly well behaved today. The defiant kid was an angel compared to how he often is, lol. And the tantrum kid - I discussed with my coworkers some suggestions I wanted to give her mom, to deal with what triggered the tantrum, but I was very pleased to see that her mom had already thought of it herself and was doing it when I arrived in the classroom. And the student, I felt, was trying hard in the way of a three-year-old to patch things up with me. It was me she wanted to talk to when the same situation came up again today, and she was able to be as calm with me as I was with her. Instead of flying into a panic, she came to me for direction, let me comfort her how I was able, and in the end everything went perfectly fine.

I also did an activity with the kids which I almost put off because of not feeling up to all that was involved. But I pushed myself and it ended up being a lot of fun. Between the overworking and understaffing, I've been struggling so much this year to plan the same variety of activities for my kids. Everything we do has to be either 1) something we're required to do for their growth (like worksheets or crafts with specific directions), or 2) something easy because I haven't had any time to prep more. While those things are fine, at 2-3 years old, there should be a lot more free-style process art where the kids can explore new and interesting materials. But I'm overwhelmed with the required crafts, and too busy to gather enough of the materials. It was easier when I had smaller classes, but now I need at least twenty of everything. The class budget doesn't even cover it all sometimes.

So I felt we desperately needed to have fun with art and with the world. That's always been the most important part of my activity time to me. It's just been so freaking impossible this year. But I did it today - well, despite my horrible mood, I started prepping it yesterday, and that enabled me to finish it today so the kids could enjoy it. It felt so good. It was like, finally, an age appropriate activity. Like yeah I know, all the parents won't be impressed, they just want to know whether their kid can trace the ABCs with a pencil and sight read yet. Your kids are two and three years old, chill out.

So period didn't bother me, the kids were behaving, we had a lot of fun the way I like to have fun, and I handled every classroom disturbance that did happen my way, with no issues and no interference. Then I went to Saizeriya for dinner and got to be as ridiculously happy as ever about how cheap it is. The food is very average, but I mean, it's still tasty, and it is soooooo cheap. A steak for under 1000 yen. Most everything else is under 500 yen. Convenience stores are more expensive these days! And a glass of red wine for 100 yen including tax. It's cheap and it tastes so, but it hits the spot, lol. Also you can get extra parmesan cheese (they used to give extra pecorino which I miss), which is a thing even Italian restaurants here often don't bother with.

It's always nice to be reminded that you never know what's going to happen from one day to another. I didn't really consider calling in today when I woke up with cramps, because ibuprofen usually is enough to get me through. But I remember wishing I could, lol. Because I just expected it to be nuts. And it was a great day. So glad that I went in, haha.

#fizz's life #work

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yeonniesblog · 3 years

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Bakugou was always famous among the hero community, in his early teens for his temper, during the starting of his hero career for being so good at what he did.

Though now as you scroll through twitter and bakugou is the number two rising hero, you can figure out how the gruffy man was chosen to be the sexiest hero this year.

Shots of the pro hero dynamite has been going viral for few weeks now, simps, his fangirls as well as the fan boys have gotten his and yours attention about this matter after trending the #daddybakugou hastag.

bakugou didn't care about it, the posts actually fed his ego if you were honest. He would just scoff at the comments and roll his eyes and give the aura that screamed as if he didn't already knew he was a 'double course snack'.

And you yourself have to admit his abs does look really good, not only in the shots but also when he comes out of the shower after another tired mission, another tired 'I think we need a break' and you pretend you could ignore his issues which he tries to forget through you, but it isn't easy— even if you keep trying to priortise your sexual desire when you watch the hot water of shower dripping off his defined eight packs— ah they were definitely drool worthy.

But. But the one thing the world or any of his lover couldn't see or be proud over was his back after you leave the marks of your nails all over them. The work of art of several red marks on the rising top hero, which you can bet his past lovers wish they could mark on but unfortunately for them though— seemed like bakugou only liked those marks by your familiar black painted nails.

The bite marks digged onto his broad shoulder, that turns purple in the morning and you can't get enough of it. You are proud of the nails mark over his sturdy back that everyone relies on, yet look at how they are at mercy under a certain manicured hands.

So a lazy smug smile has been stuck on your face since you saw bakugou putting on the t-shirt that he threw somewhere in the corner of your room last night, groaning when the fabric was touching his skin littered marks.

“you did this on purpose didn't you” his piercing red eyes looking back to your twinkling mischievous one through the mirror. you just continue to smile at him.

another roll of his eyes because of your lack of response as he continues to look for his winter coat he always seemed to wear during the season he hates.

“wanted to make your girlfriend jealous” you chipped, lips pursued into a smile but your throat felt like it was burning. You stretched your arms, letting the blanket fall of your topless body, chest littered with similar marks left on the hero infront of you.

“she isn't my girlfriend” he stopped putting on his watch, raising his head to look at you again through the mirror, eyes flickering noticing your naked soft skin. Will he be too later for a round two?

“Uh— yes you guy are on a break again” you dragged the uh a little, picking up the fallen robe on your wooden floor, you sighed closing your eyes. “sorry forgot you didn't cheat like her”

Your obvious voice mocking him in the face, bakugou turned around, clenching his fist to throw any snarky comment he could think of but he couldn't because the girl he was hanging still on for did betray him. And he couldn't change the fact.

You stepped off the bed but as soon as the pressure fell on your feet you could feel the soaring pain through your legs. cramps jerking up between your thighs.

“fuck” you cursed trying to stand properly and tie the knot of your robe, while the piercing red eyes followed your movements.

“oh did I go too hard on the number four hero?" The smug look on bakugou was evident, arms over his chest as he stood leaning against the door frame of your bedroom ready to leave for his empty apartment.

You just returned a fake smile followed with a roll of eyes. He doesn't know why he puts up with your bratty act or short tempered mood swings. Maybe next time you shouldn't be able to walk at all for two days straight. He makes a mental note of that.

Stumbling over to the bathroom you were just about to step on the white tiles, but your left foot slipped. The fabric of your silky lace bra was thrown across the room by the certain blond last night and now you could feel you are loosing balance and you were going to land on your butt but before that two big hands held you by your shoulder.

“fuckin’ idiot” bakugou growled, breathing sharply— the wooden floor of your bedroom was surely hard enough— he had felt it well and hard after accidentally tripping over your charger and hitting his head when you were in the bathroom but it was too embarrassing of a story for the crude man to share.

“You could have asked me if I was okay first mister bakugou” you stood up, untangling yourself from his big veiny hands which were plunging inside your repeatedly last night. You inhaled deeply thinking back at the memories. This dude surely needs to slow his shit down.

“Oh? I am mister bakugou now ? last thing I remember you were screaming 'katsuki! Please Katsuki more'” he mocked mimicking your voice in a pitch shrill voice, failing miserably ofcouse, you sound nothing like that.

Giving him a eye closed smile, you swiftly pinched at what you remember the last place you saw your marks on his back, causing a low groan to escape from his mouth.

Satisfied— your closed the bathroom door on his face after entering quickly, laughing to yourself by the amusing yells and curses thrown by the pomeranian from the other side of the door.

You knew well that he could break the door and get you but his urgency to go to her was proven once again when you heard the fading footsteps leaving towards the exit of your expensive apartment. Nudging off to the shower to get ready for your work, you took off your robe.

Letting the hot drizzling water flow over your body, you relaxed closing your eyes, not realising tears also started leaking through the corner of your closed eyes. You wonder when the games between the both of you would end.

But the proud smile on your face was etched once again when you remembered the dark mark on his back you left. So even if the world gets to see his abs through a ripped piece clothing or the girl who is so proud after achieving a label on their on and off relationship by the blonde you already knew how to make bakugou yours. Even if that means you play a little dirty.

Guess you will accept the date proposal from the one and only number one hero.

Sequel : honey trap

#bnha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #mha x y/n #bnha imagines #bnha fluff #bnha smut #bnha #boku no academia #boku no hero fanfic #izuku mydoria #izuku midoria x reader #bakugou x y/n #mha angst #mha imagines

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letsberealxxxx · 2 years

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Period cramps H.S

She/Her reader x Harry Styles

Reader (y/n) has period cramps.

TW: fluff, crying, yelling

(I saw something similar somewhere. idk where. Im NOT copying gust inspired by their writing. I'm mixing the idea of theirs with ideas of my own.)😃

requested by @harryistheonlyoneforme

It's already 8pm. I need to get up to make Harry and I dinner. With me going back to school and Harry's busy work schedule it is rare to have any time for us. We have been dating for three years now. It has become routine for him to leave before I wake up, and then get home, have dinner together than go to bed. Sometimes he doesn't even make it that far and he passes out on the couch. Looking around the room from the bed i'm laying on, it's a mess. I normal would clean it during the day but I haven't got up today other than to use the bathroom. This morning I got my period or as I like to call it, the red devil. My cramps are twisting my stomach in cruel ways making it hard to move at all. My thoughts are cut off by the door closing. 'weird' I thought, I didn't even hear it open. "Babe, is dinner ready?" I hear harry yell. I can't even answer my throat is so dry from not drinking anything today. "Y/n is dinner- why is the room still a mess" I sit up to look at him, "sorry" i croak. "SORRY, SORRY!!!!!!! Y/n!! I have been working all day, the room is a fvck!ng mess, and you haven't made dinner. I WORK HARD AND YOU LAY IN BED ALL DAY!!!!!!!!!" You want to scream at him, not to talk to you like that but all you do is cry. As soon as he sees this he rushes over to you any pulls you into his arms. You are now standing but the action was so quick your body doesn't approve and sends a hurricane of pain through your stomach. Because of this you cry harder and since your legs give out a bit, you fall into harry. "Love what's wrong?" he asks worriedly. All his past frustration is washed away and replaced with worry for you, the one he loves. "my period came and it hurts" you sob into his chest."you period, love?"he asks carefully. You can only nod. "I'm so sorry for yelling baby. I should never yell at my pretty girl. I love you babe. Im'a go get your heating pad and some water okay love?" "okay" you answer. Once harry comes back he holds and takes care of you for the night. When you feel no better tomorrow he takes the day off to care for you.

#harry styles #hs #period #cramps #period cramps #hs fluff #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine

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tartagliaxx · 3 years

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。YOU ARE THE DISASTER I DESIRE

━━ PAIRING: xiao/reader

━━ GENRE: fluff

━━ SUMMARY: the stubborn reluctance to admit defeat leads some stories to end in bitter tragedies. thankfully, xiao was much too willing to give in against the nonexistent war your presence has brought.

━━ CONTAINS: modern!au, slightly vulgar language, one mildly suggestive scene

━━ VALENTINE'S 2022 EVENT SPECIAL

you'll have more luck trying to find a needle in a ten-meter tall haystack than you'll have when trying to decipher the inner workings of the human mind. there was just too much to consider — too much information and contradictions for our puny, little brains to comprehend. it's nigh impossible and the only reason a big shot philosopher hasn't screamed about it as they ran down the street, caffeinated and definitely insane, is because no one's ready to admit that they don't and will never know. still, if you want to be meaninglessly stubborn, taking a look into xiao's brain is definitely a great place to start. he doesn't really bother segregating information into ridiculously minuscule categories — just what he tolerates and what he does not. a simple mindset for a relatively simple man who liked to stay away from unnecessary baggage.

"crap man... it's valentine's day tomorrow. i don't even know what to give my girlfriend..."

xiao sighed in disinterest, hoping that this person would speak softer for the sake of his peace of mind in this cramped train, "just buy her roses or chocolates like every other guy out there?"

"you know... this is exactly why no one likes you."

he thought that it was better to zone out rather than be forced to listen to a conversation that was heading steeply into a conversation that he frankly couldn't care less about. he tolerates most festivities and holidays because there was always a silver lining. valentine's day, however? xiao wouldn't go as far as saying as he despises it because that's how little he thinks of the celebration.

it's just a regular day turned into a breeding ground of opportunistic, capitalistic monsters. he'd hate to quote his horrible, narrow-minded teachers from his childhood but wasn't love something that's supposed to be shown every day and not just one day of the year? no matter how he looks at the situation, he just can't see the point in buying overwhelmingly sweet treats or overpriced flowers that were sure to wilt the next day.

"listen... it's the effort and the thought that counts! partners love the idea of special treatment. it makes them feel like they're appreciated because there's a day that's dedicated just for them, you get me? no one stays for a lazy piece of shit who couldn't be bothered to think of a special something to give..."

"...since when did you become a love guru? wasn't your girlfriend just saying that she wants to break up—"

relief settled into his bones as people — including those high school students — poured out of the train. with more room to move, he stretched his legs out, pulling out the headphones he had in the process. xiao's station was the last stop which was currently two stops away from where he was now. with everyone located in the other carts, there were only five other people seated around him, all of which are busy minding their own business with no intention of bothering him anytime soon. good. some peace and quiet... with that thought in mind, xiao's eyes slowly fluttered close. a little nap couldn't possibly hurt...

no one stays for a lazy piece of shit who couldn't be bothered to think of a special something to give.

opening his eyes with a start, xiao cursed those burdensome kids and their equally burdensome words. he tried to pretend that the anxious feeling in his guts didn't exist as he hurriedly shoved his headphones in his bag. seriously... why do unnecessary burdens keep on flying in his direction? biting back a groan, he stood up from his seat with what was without a doubt, his deepest frown of the day (a weighty comment seeing as he spent the entire day with a grumpily frowning).

he disliked valentine's day a lot, he thought to himself as he stepped out of the train one station early, he was sure of it now.

sniffling out of habit, you tapped the send button on your phone for the sixteenth time in a row. xiao wasn't one to send lovey-dovey texts first thing in the morning but he also wasn't the type to leave you hanging. heck, he responds even when he doesn't feel like talking to you after a fight! memories of that time only made you feel more uncomfortable so you settled on worrying your lips as you hailed a taxi. the logical angel on your shoulder tells you that you were probably thinking too deeply into the unlikely extremes but what can you say? you love the guy too much to be unbothered by his missing replies.

being apart from him without knowing what was happening was dreadful and the words 'never again' keep on etching themselves on your mind until all you could do was attempt to control your heart's rhythm by looking at the blurred, discolored buildings outside the car. were cabs always this slow? it was running on sixty kilometers per hour, which in hindsight, was not necessarily slow when you consider the fact that you don't usually move an inch until half an hour later when trapped in the usual morning rush. still, the antsy feeling that was making it hard to sit still remained and gnawed at your mind. perhaps it was the caffeine that was making you feel more nervous than necessary. whatever the case, you suddenly felt bad for taking the updates he usually sends for granted.

xiao might be a little rough on the edges but he was a sweetheart who just had a little more trouble when it came to expressing himself. he was someone who tells you that he's at your favorite bakery as a silent cue for you to tell him what you want. he's also someone who sends you random spotify qr codes when he's feeling extra sweet so that you can listen to the same songs he was listening to. he's different from other guys but you never once doubted his affections because every day, he reminds you that he does almost everything with you settled comfortably in the back of his mind.

thanking the cab driver for bearing with the way you were anxiously tapping your fingers on your knees for the past fifteen minutes, you rushed out of the car and into the three-story apartment building he was residing in for the time being. it's stupid, really. you would've insisted that he move over to yours more if you knew that you'd run up three flights of stairs because of your wild hypothesis. maybe then you would worry more about who's going to catch the roach in your bathroom instead of his entire safety and wellbeing.

"xiao?" you croaked out as you tried to regain your breathing. the small, wooden sign that read '304' was barely hanging upright and the five consecutive knocks you did finally caused it to fall with a muffled thud, "xiao? are you home?"

no answer.

you knocked three more times — with more force this time and you wondered if you would have to keep standing here until your knuckles were all red and raw. to be honest, you would've left to try your luck elsewhere if it weren't for your strangely precise gut feeling telling you that he's somewhere in there. well, that and the fact that you could vaguely pick out the sound of clanking from beyond the door.

"shit!"

jumping in surprise, a panicked call slipped out of your lips as you heard xiao's sharp curse. you were certain something was wrong now. bless him but xiao was more indifferent and passive-aggressive than resentful and feral — two things that you most certainly heard in what appeared to be a small burst of emotions. quite frankly, you have had enough of it. you knew that xiao, despite voicing out his dissatisfaction, began leaving a spare key somewhere after coming home to you sitting in the hallway pathetically because you forgot keys and wallet at home. you didn't feel like walking for thirty minutes or so just to get home, you said, and the expression he wore in reply was still deeply ingrained in your memory: an exasperated and, it could've been just a trick of the light but you wanted to believe that there was endearment as well in his tired frown.

just as you remembered the foreign tenseness in his shoulders when he saw your slumped-over form, you found exactly what you needed. the key in question was small and silver-coated; particularly easy to miss behind the green, polka-dotted clay pot you gave as a gag gift to break the monotony of his place. fighting back your frown, you eyed the key on your hand. well... if things went south because of your invasion of privacy, you could always say that it was because he managed to snatch an extremely precious lover who worried a little too much over his seeming lack of concern about himself. right... surely, he won't deny that much...

"xiao?" you called out softly, carefully taking a few steps forward as if the ground you were treading on was made of the most fragile glass in the world, "where are you?"

he still hadn't replied but the unfamiliar metallic noises were much louder now that you're inside. it didn't look like he was in trouble as everything was exactly how you left it two days ago. one of your larger sweaters was draped over the couch, something you placed there on purpose because xiao had a horrible habit of choosing to suffer in the cold instead of moving out of his comfortable lounging position when he's already so deep into scrolling through youtube videos. sighing, you crouched to pick up a notebook that had slipped out of his bag. it looks like he hasn't tidied that up either when he got home yesterday.

it was all very unlike him and with a better sense of security now that you're here, you find your concern transform into confusion. the xiao you knew wouldn't stay inside the kitchen for long unless the world would cave in if he didn't. with a small knock to announce your presence, you immediately find yourself stifling a laugh. the xiao you knew also wouldn't be caught dead staring at you like a deer caught in headlights in the middle of what appears to be the remnants of a previously functional kitchen.

"what in the world..."

flinching at your not-question question, xiao immediately averts his gaze to the chocolate-covered floor, "why... why are you here?"

"am i not welcome?"

you didn't mean to tease him but before you could stop yourself, the words were pouring out of your mouth. at your response, xiao sighs, running a flour-covered hand through his hair. an unknown feeling nibbled at some unfamiliar part of your brain as a strong urge to fix his hair in place became apparent. the flour had dusted his hair white and you realized that darker tones suited him better because it made his eyes pop out more; his eyes that were always firm and strong — always composed save for the times where it's about you. his eyes that were always seeing through your white lies and hesitation; eyes that were also dim and tired and looking at everything but your inquisitive gaze.

"no, it's not that..." he finally breaks his silence with another groan, "you weren't supposed to be here yet."

"hey, what's wrong?"

xiao shifted his weight but nonetheless relented to your hold as you gently squeezed his forearms in encouragement, "i was... attempting to make a cake but i wasn't aware that there are a lot of... ridiculous steps to it."

"a cake? well, yeah... it's a pretty tedious process at the start but what for?"

his frown grows deeper as he stared at you like you grew two heads in the span of the seconds he was not looking at you, "...you don't know what day it is today?"

"what day?" you mirror his expression, "oh my god, did i forget your father's birthday?"

"you're hopeless... even i know what today is."

cake... now that you thought about it, your instagram feed was oddly full of flowers and chocolate cakes... was it already february 14? time flies by fast but you don't think xiao of all people would go out of his way to make you a cake on a holiday that's not even a proper holiday. noticing the furrow in your brows, xiao sighs for the nth time. he had an inkling of what you were thinking about.

"i thought you'll appreciate it if i did something everyone else is doing. i know that i'm not good at showing my emotions and all this romantic nonsense but i... i didn't want you to think that i couldn't be bothered to do things for you."

of course, you knew that. if xiao was someone who genuinely didn't try to make things work then you would've long walked out of the door with a relieved smile. the fact that you were here, face still warm from the way you rushed from your home to his just because you were afraid that something happened to him meant that you loved him. you loved him so much because he loved you just as much. you loved him because he's always so willing to cross the boundaries he had set just to make you smile. the discomforting gloom that made his shoulders slouch almost imperceptibly made your eyes gloss over with gratitude. where else will you find a man who would go out of his way to do something for you even when it's painfully obvious that he's leagues away from his comfort zone? you're doomed, you think as you took another step closer to him. he's ruined everyone else for you and you've presented yourself as a willing sacrifice for this so-called demise.

"there's no need," you smile sweetly as you laid your forehead against his, "you're fine as is. i love you even without the grandeur and cheesy lines."

without warning, he felt the air getting stuck in his throat. there had to be something seriously wrong with him. it wasn't normal to hear the way adrenaline rushes to every crevice of his body and it was definitely not normal to have his hands shake as you slowly cradled them in between yours. he feels weak and rather helpless as all he could do was wait with bated breathe as everything that comprised your being overwhelmed and filled the blank void of his mind. nothing but everything about you — your tender caress, your citrusy shampoo — you. wars were unpredictable but this was no war. you came and you conquered, leaving him no room to fight back. actually, perhaps it was better to say that he didn't want to fight back. the sweet repeat of your voice was coaxing him to say 'i surrender — all of me, all of what i will be. have it all if you want' and he's way past being ready to admit that he's nothing but a subservient subject of yours who'll present everything in this world if you gave him your word.

feeling the courage dealt by the aftermath of his intimate realization, xiao takes your hands off to properly pull you into a hug. blinking in surprise, you stifled another chuckle as his nose brushed over a ticklish part of your neck. ah, he's doomed, he thinks as his eyes fluttered to a close to better remember the way his heart flips over and over in delight at the sound of your laughter. what have you done to him that he's become exactly like the person he thought he'll never be? the scent of sugar and coffee clung to his beige sweater and it's sweet and nice and incredibly familiar just like the warmth that seeped through your clothes as his hands pulled you closer to his thundering heart.

"wait... just a little bit more... don't pull away just yet."

you tried your best to pretend as if you weren't affected— as if your heart wasn't seconds away from breaking through your ribs. you tried but why did you bother? those amber eyes could demand the most hideous from you and you'll comply like a doll so pliant you could only be said to be made for him. how can you say 'no' when he pulls back just so you could see the way his eyes grow a shade deeper — when his fingers, a little calloused from work, tenderly touch your cheek as if you were made of porcelain? his touch moves lower— to your jaw— and you mutter all the prayers you can remember in your lovestruck haze, all so his lips would meet yours just a second faster.

"thank you for understanding," he whispers and the rarity of his words was nothing compared to the rarity of haze and love hidden in his voice. you don't trust your own to deliver — finding that you have long lost your ability to communicate in front of someone who was undeniably in love with you and all the worry lines you had because of him; because you're always so caring and gentle when it comes to him that it makes him weep for his lost rationality.

you look after him so well that it almost makes him feel so bad for taking so much from you.

"happy valentine's, xiao."

but he also was not above welcoming his greed as he finally slots his lips between yours.

#genshin #genshin x reader #xiao #gi x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin oneshot #genshin scenario #genshin fluff #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao fluff #xiao imagine #xiao scenario #xiao oneshot #—𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

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rendevousz · 4 years

Text

niagara falls of blood?

avengers x fem!teen!reader

summary: pretty much what the title is, you on your period

warnings: your moodswings ig

word count: 2765

"rise and shine, y/n!" you hear an annoying voice sing just as the lights flickered on. you grumbled something inaudible, hiding underneath your blanket to shield yourself from the brightness that steve just brought upon your room.

"y/n/n, come on. wakey-wakey!" you groan, feeling super unmotivated to train today. you even felt like punching steve in his perfect-looking face just for waking you up at the crack ass of dawn. this was unusual because you loved jogs before the sun came up and trainings before it hit noon.

"steve, if you don't shut the hell up right now, i'm gonna push you into that lake beside our usual jogging route."

"jeez, y/n, woke up on the wrong side or what?" he teases, finally leaving once he saw you were already sitting up. you groggily walked to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth before changing into your workout clothes.

"no!" you whine when you saw that you were on your period. that's why you were in a crappy mood when steve woke you up. you begrudgingly dressed up after putting on a pad, grabbing a small towel on the way out.

like you did every morning, you were gonna go on a run with steve, bucky and sam. while you loved running, you hated how steve and bucky "cheated" —as you and sam liked to call it— with their super soldier staminas. that was why you loved having sam there. not only was he great company but he was also moral support because you two would always be hilariously overtook by steve and bucky multiple times. but that didn't matter because you two would always be completely immersed in your conversations every time.

but not today though. you already knew today was going to be different. you had gotten a bad start to the day with steve's and your usual morning routine which somehow annoyed you this one time. and having to run around with your cramps definitely didn't help lighten your mood.

"kid, you okay?" sam asks from your right side. you'd been silent throughout the whole run and sam knew something was up when you didn't laugh at his jokes like how you usually would. "just cramps. they're hurting a lot so i'm probably gonna skip training today." you explain and he slowed down his pace causing you to slow down too since you always had to run side by side.

"y/n/n, you should probably stop now if you're having cramps. it might make it worse—i think? i don't know, actually. i don't know how periods work but i know cramps hurt a lot so i think you should stop. yeah, you should stop." his rambling speech made you feel a bit better now knowing he wants you to take care of yourself. "you know what? yeah, i think i'm gonna go. sorry i have to leave you with the two cheaters."

he smiled at you, telling you not to worry about it. you were touched and your mood significantly brightened but before you could reply him, rhythmic footsteps echoed from a distance from behind you two and you knew what was coming.

"on your left."

before steve and bucky could just pass by peacefully like they did the past nine times, you managed to throw a punch to steve's side, effectively slowing him down when he stumbled and then completely stopped. "what gives, y/n?!" bucky then stopped too, wanting to know what was up.

"that's for this morning." you glared at him and he looked at you in confusion, holding onto his side where you punched him. though you were significantly smaller than he was—than any of them were, really—, you could definitely throw a punch. speaking of punch, you gave him another on his other side and he flinched, giving you an incredulous look, one that resembled betrayal.

"and that's for being a cheater." you narrowed your eyes at him. "oN yOuR LeFt." you mocked him, rolling your eyes before ultimately leaving the trio to walk back to the tower. they looked at your fading figure and exchanged looks with each other in confusion. "what...what just happened?"

"y/n's on her period so we gotta be careful with her." sam explained and steve being steve, his cheeks tinted slight pink as the thought slightly embarrassed him.

"period? you mean the niagra falls of blood," bucky states, taking a long sip out his water bottle. sam rolled his eyes at this but nodded anyways. "also, she doesn't want training today so unless any of you have a death wish, don't call her down for anything other than for food, got it?"

"yes, sir."

"got it."

"you do it,"

"i don't want to, you do it."

"can one of you just do it? why don't you guys want to wake y/n up?" nat stopped bucky and steve's little argument as she turned away from the stove for a bit. "you two love waking her up and carrying her down to eat. what happened?"

"womanhood happened," steve mumbled bitterly, rubbing his sides where you hit him this morning. apparently you had hit him hard enough to bruise a little. nat rolled her eyes in realisation. "period?"

"no, no, not period. satan's montly ritual inside of y/n. you should've seen her this morning, nat. it was like she was possessed!" steve exaggerates. "okay, let's not be dramatic here," bucky rolls his eyes at his best friend. steve only looked at him with fear in his eyes and bucky sighs. "fine, i'll do it. but if i don't return, tell sam he still can't have my snacks. no one can have my snacks."

nat only shakes her head before turning back to the stove to finish cooking lunch.

meanwhile, bucky was making his way up to your room. deep down he was scared to face you after your episode in the morning. "y/n/n? doll, it's lunch." he spoke when he entered your room. he melted when he saw you all snuggled up in bed, asleep, hugging your life-sized teddy bear that tony gifted you last christmas.

"doll? time to eat," he whispered, gently shaking you awake. you slowly opened your eyes to see bucky sitting on your bed, trying to wake you up from your nap. "what time is it?" you asked, rubbing your eyes, your lips jutting out subconsciously. bucky internally cooed at how adorable you looked. "it's afternoon, you skipped breakfast so nat wants you to eat lunch." he tells you.

"tell her i'm sleepy," you said, adjusting yourself back under the blanket. "y/n/n, you gotta eat. nat's gonna kill me if i go back down there without you." he shakes you again and you look up at him with you doe eyes. "then don't go back down. cuddle me, jamesie!" you pouted, giving him your best sad puppy look.

he had a brief internal battle with himself before losing and giving in, slipping next to you and hugging you, providing you warmth that even your blanket couldn't provide. bucky knew nat would have his head but how could he say no to that adorable face? and you using his real name? ultimate weakness.

soon, you were back asleep, cuddling up to him. he smiled down at you, loving how peaceful you seemed when you were sleeping. and before he knew it, he too fell asleep.

"what's taking him so long?" nat huffed and steve's jaw dropped slightly, looking at her in worry. "who's telling sam he can't have bucky's snacks?"

"don't be ridiculous, steve. go get them or i'm telling sam he can't have your snacks too." steve sighs, getting up from the barstool and making his way up to your room.

safe to say he was expecting pretty much anything but the sight of you and bucky asleep, cuddled up to each other. steve's lips jutted out and he cooed at you both. he snapped a quick picture before approaching you two, sitting on your bed beside your sleeping figure.

"y/n/n? sweetie, you need to eat." he says softly as he shook you awake. the shaking seemed to wake bucky up too and when your eyes fluttered open, steve smiled down at you. "bubba? it's lunch," he looks over at bucky in disappointment for having fallen asleep when he had a task. bucky only shrugs his shoulders as if saying 'hey man, i had no choice'.

"stevie?" you groaned out and he smiled. "come on, let's go have lunch, nat is waiting downstairs." he tries to get you to sit up but you resist. "come sleep, stevie," you pulled the same trick you did with bucky and it's no surprise the blond super-soldier fell for it too. everyone had a soft spot for you.

steve laid next to you and you're then sandwiched between two super-soldiers, already falling back asleep in just seconds.

"you know nat's gonna kill us, right buck?"

"then let her try. we can use y/n/n to get out of it. i mean, can you even recall the last time anyone said no to that adorable face?"

"sam says no to her sometimes."

"yeah but he always ends up feeling bad so,"

"okay yeah, you're right."

"that's exactly why we're stuck in this situation, right dear ol' stevie? so i say we just sleep and if nat tries to scold us, we'll technically be under y/n/n's protection because nat won't scream in our faces in front of her."

"good call. night, buck."

"night, steve."

"i can't believe i sent two super-soldier idiots to go wake up y/n on her period. i didn't think they meant it literally when they were afraid they weren't gonna come back." nat paces around the kitchen and wanda watches in amusement. it had been almost a whole hour since bucky was sent to get you and thirty minutes since steve was sent to do so too and both men hadn't returned with you for lunch.

"do you really think y/n/n is having a temper tantrum or something and those idiots are caught in the middle of it?" nat asks and wanda shook her head. "i doubt. y/n can get a little cranky but only if provoked. y/n on her period is overall a sweetheart like she always is. maybe steve was being annoying this morning. i mean, he always is annoying during morning jogs because he always has to announce when he overtakes us." wanda rolls her eyes at the fact.

"okay, you know what? come with me to get them. i mean with our joint forces, there's no way we're going to get sucked into whatever those idiots did. let's go,"

nat didn't give the younger woman a chance to reply before she's storming upstairs to your room and wanda had no choice but to rush along.

"well? are we going to wake them up or what?" wanda asks nat, not taking her eyes off the adorable sight she was met with right as she entered your room.

"i want to get mad at steve and bucky for not waking her up because she hasn't eaten yet but somehow i can't." nat states, looking like she's having an existential crisis.

"well, no lunch for these three, i guess. they better have dinner though or i'm actually going to get mad. let's go, wands." nat closes your door, but not before snapping a pic of you three cuddled up and sending it to the group chat.

nat: [attached photo]

peter: OMG SHE LOOKS SO TINY AND ADORABLE SQUISHED IN BETWEEN THOSE TWO 🥺🥺🥺

tony: IS THAT SAFE? CAN MY BABY EVEN BREATHE PROPERLY?????? NAT WHY ARE YOU JUST LETTING IT HAPPEN

wanda: stark, she's fine

thor: aw, i hope lady y/n gets all the rest she needs. she looks peaceful 🥰

clint: wait no fair i wanna cuddle her too 🥺😭

sam: dang it does this mean i still can't have bucky's snacks

bucky: stay away from my snacks.

"look who finally decided to show." you hear tony tease when you finally came down to dinner.

after waking up an hour prior, you woke up the two super-soldiers sandwiching you by pushing them off your bed. they couldn't even be mad at you when you had burst out in contagious laughter at your own stunt, before leaving to let you wash up.

"how are you feeling, sweetie?" bruce asks you as you sat in between him and tony on the dining table. "i'm good, bruce, why do you ask?"

"we've been hearin' a lot about you today, cupcake." tony winks at you before continuing to eat his food. you pout at him. "bad things?"

"no, no, no, not bad things, never bad things. you're the sweetest little cupcake and everyone loves you. now eat your food," tony pretends to make an angry face at you and you listen to him, smiling as you do so.

after dinner, you decided to lounge in the common room for a bit to watch tv and thor, clint, wanda and sam decide to join you.

"what are we watching?" sam asks as he plops down next to you on the couch. "i don't know, i'm kinda in the mood to watch my little pony." you quipped happily. "my little pony? that stupid ponies cartoon where the purple unicorn has magic and becomes a princess?"

"it's not stupid," you muttered under your breath, suddenly getting upset that he thought my little pony was stupid. "if you guys don't want to watch, i guess we can watch whatever you want." you told the rest who were already seated, a sad expression on your face.

"bubs! of course we want to watch it! right, sam?" wanda glares at sam as she asked him through gritted teeth. "y–yes! yes, we'll watch my little pony!" he replies quickly. "okay!" you cheer, leaning back against the couch as you turned the show on.

after an episode was done, you seemed to have gotten the others hooked on it because they asked for another episode. well, except for sam because he decided one episode was enough and it was time to sleep so he left.

"okay," you giggled, happy that they liked the show. "but i'm going to go get my snacks first." you walked to the kitchen to quickly get your bag of pretzels from the pantry. you were pretty sure it was the period moodswings that were causing your emotions to be all over the place because you cried. you cried because you were so excited to go get your snacks, only to find that it had been stolen.

you trudged back into the living room with a tear-stained face and wanda immediately stands up. "bubs, what's wrong?" she held both your shoulders as she looked down at you. you hiccup. "i–i think pete took my pretzel sticks." you pouted to try keep the incoming tears at bay but they managed to drop anyways.

"i'll kill him," clint stands up, hands held out in a fighting stance. "how dare he steal y/n/n's snacks." wanda rolls her eyes at his antics and gives him a look that tells him to back down.

"lady y/n," thor calls from his spot on the couch. you turn to him. "i have a stash of poptarts if you want?" he offered and as kind as his intentions were, you only wanted your pretzel sticks. you dropped down to the floor, staring silently into nothing.

"y/n," clint places a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to get up but you didn't. you looked up at him with a small pout and glossy eyes and he cracked. "alright, thor, come with me to the grocery store. we're getting y/n/n's snacks,"

thor immediately gets up, following clint out the door. you couldn't believe that the avengers' own archer and god of thunder were willing to go out just to buy you snacks.

twenty minutes later, they came back with bags of different snacks but most importantly, your pretzel sticks. you ran to them, giving them the biggest hug you could give, prompting chuckles and hair ruffles from them. "anything for you, kiddo."

despite having just gotten your snack, you fell asleep ten minutes into the next episode and thor goes to carry you back to your room. he sets you down gently on your bed, pulling your blanket up so that you were warm.

"sleep well, lady y/n." he kisses the side of your head before leaving. and sleep well you did because you had an awesome family take care of you.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa

#avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers fluff #bucky barnes x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #tony stark x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #wanda maximoff x teen!reader #thor odinson x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #marvel x teen!reader

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

cupid carries a gun

masterlist • taglist & faq

dark!Bruce Banner x named!Reader. Rated R.

Dr. Banner is a serial killer known as the Doctor and Bailey has his soulmark. He escapes imprisonment and meets his soulmate. ~2,2k words. Serial killer fluff??

[no y/n, no 'you', no reader description, race/age/body type neutral, only first name]

This is more of a concept I wrote in an hour than an actual fic. I think it would make a good multi-chapter, but really, my hands are full now and I just needed to get this weird dream off my chest. Yes, I had a dream he was a serial killer and I was his soulmate 💀🖐🏻 I need to ease up on true crime shows istg...

St. John's was suffering a nasty collective psychosis. That would be the only logical explanation Bailey is willing to accept for the jittery, jerky way everybody is behaving. Some of it could be attributed to the armed guards roaming the halls and scaring the patients - but in America, a gun slung over the shoulder shouldn't invoke such a reaction from people.

Only select few know what these people are there for, anyways. Most hospital population is clueless, only vaguely perceiving the sense of dread those harbouring the knowledge seem to carry around. People are easily scared - the thought doesn't leave Bailey's head her whole shift.

She, however, knows exactly what is happening. She's good at her job, brilliant even, nerves made of purest steel and bedside manner perfectly compassionate and tender. It doesn't come as a surprise that she is the one that got chosen to handle the problematic, uncooperative patients.

The bar is high, and this time - neigh impossible. A man so dangerous, so volatile, it required the sheriff to dispatch their town's squadron of special forces - not that was anything but a slight setback for the Doctor. The halls of this hospital will be forever marred with their blood, will forever be haunted by the echoes of their screams abruptly cutting off with a wet squelch.

Bailey thought she'd done her part to protect the innocents. Her colleagues, young women just like her (they're not, Bailey's mind whispers), all safely locked away in a storage closet for the cops to find. There are no windows and He won't see or hear them... If they're smart.

There he is, the man everybody is savagely afraid of. He is everything and nothing she had imagined - Doctor Bruce Banner is on the shorter side, stocky and sickly pale in his hospital issue pajamas, the bluish tint to his skin contrasted by dark crimson stains of blood on the rancid green cotton of his clothes.

The axe in his hands is held firmly but clumsily - Bailey's sure it wouldn't have been his weapon of choice should he had been given one. A choice. She swallowed the unease that spread all over her determination like mold, seeing his eyes, wild and crazy, land on the crook of her arm - where his mark laid, bright red and angry, as if it had been carved into her flesh mere days ago.

"Are you, perhaps, in need of a nurse, doctor Banner?" Bailey inquired softly, fingertips shaking, as the man crossed the space between them with short, powerful strides. The woman's stance widened, involuntary shivers running through her bones at the unexpected tenderness coming from him - Dr. Banner's palms gently wrapped around her arm, warm, chapped lips touching the angry, red soulmark near the crook of her elbow.

"It's been so long since I had a nurse," the man's mutter was barely audible. His eyes, the warmest brown she'd ever seen, met Bailey's wide, shining ones, for her to discover no trace of the madness she was told should be there. Bailey smiled.

As the hospital building grew smaller in the rear view mirror, so did Bailey's anxiety, paving way to excitement and muted curiosity. Her mother always had told that fate had a way of intervening when it was needed - and her mom had oftentimes taken up the role onto herself, moving them out of the state when Bailey's soulmark began to appear on dead people's bodies, burned or cut into skin as a signature. Bailey was not old enough to understand what it meant, back then, but she'd always been a clever girl.

With her first mobile device, she figured out why her mother strictly prohibited her from speaking about it, why her mother always kept a stash of large bandaids to cover it should Bailey be required to remove her long-sleeve shirt.

Only Bailey's physician knew. She'd expected terror, disgust - or even pity, but Dr. Strange always kept his mouth and eyes shut. As Bailey grew older, blossomed into a fine young woman, she thought she saw envy leak into his chiseled features - but Dr. Strange was as quiet and cynical as ever.

As long as nobody tried to separate them, it would be fine. A small smile stretched her plush lips, hand squeezing the one holding hers with giddiness creeping into her youthful features. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an expression of curious tranquility on Dr. Banner's- Bruce's face as his eyes stayed firmly on the road as the radio crackled static in-between songs.

"Penny for your thoughts?" The man she'd grown to crave and fear, his salt and pepper curls bouncing with every pothole the car hit; his warm hand, larger than hers by a stretch, provided comfort she hadn't known she needed.

"Where to, doc?" The woman couldn't hold back the anticipation. She wanted to hold him, to be close - closer than her small, cramped cheap car allowed them to be.

"I have some friends waiting for me," the man announced, as if he hadn't spent the last five years in a maximum security prison. Not that it mattered to Bailey - but knowing there was no way back from this, Bruce's so-called friends became a point of doubt to the young woman. The doctor noticed it, his responding smile both dangerous and comforting, all sharp canines and moist lips. "You know them, baby. Dr. Strange is a colleague of mine and Tony Stark is a great friend."

Bailey's eyebrows rose, mild disbelief caught somewhere in her trachea as she attempted to clear her throat. Her family physician and the businessman rumoured to be the largest crime boss of their side of the pond. Suddenly, Strange's long glances and penetrating stares acquired a new meaning, a sense of indignation seeping into Bailey's newly found joy. "And he never said anything," the longing, the countless nights spent studying every publicly available material on Dr. Banner, the killer surgeon that terrorised the Tri-State area burned acrid in her chest.

"He told everything to me," Bruce's remark stung if only from the fact that he'd known about her all along. "Who, do you think, pushed for your transfer to St. John's?" Bruce's smile glinted a little wicked in the meager light of passing-by streetlights as the evening sun simmered down to a rest below the horizon. "I don't actually have cancer," the second remark was more optimistic, spoken hopefully, with another gentle squeeze to her hand.

Bailey puffed out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The puzzle pieces slowly started to arrange themselves, revealing a bigger picture than the one before. She wanted to be mad - mad at Stephen, for not saying anything; mad at Bruce, for getting himself caught years prior. And the anger at her own mother, for taking away her right to stand by her soulmate, for all the countless fights and nights spent locked up in her room.

Bailey had been treated like a monster as soon as he soulmark showed up - and after so much time spent trying to show she wasn't one, perhaps, it was time to face the truth. Perhaps, it was time to show them how much of a monster she could be, if they were so unhappy before.

Gravel flew under the wheels of Bailey's beaten up Toyota Corolla, sending little pebbles to bang noisily against the bumper and the stone flower beds surrounding the driveway to a large two-story mansion. Two cars stood in from of it with two men leaning each against their own vehicle.

The shorter figure was well-dressed, suit obviously bespoke and expensive, sunglasses reflecting the headlights of her Toyota even from a distance away. The taller figure stood out with familiarity, a lit cigarette freely dangling between the finger of his gesturing hand - Dr. Strange and his long, sculpted legs, Bailey could recognise even from a mile away.

Bruce parked, killing the engine and exiting the car with a free, lopsided grin carelessly thrown in Bailey's direction. Fumbling with the lock of her seatbelt, the woman's eyes latched onto the figure of her soulmate eagerly embracing the shorter man, their reunion evidently long-awaited and happy. Stephen's coarse laugh penetrated the interior of the car as the wacky passenger side seatbelt finally let Bailey free.

Three pairs of eyes bore into her body still wearing the scrubs from the hospital - one laughing, Strange was amused; one curious - none other than Tony Stark and his shameless smirk had made an appearance at their first getaway destination; and Bruce, looking so damn proud and lovesick. The grin tugged at Bailey's lips as the presence of the other men barely registered in her elevetaed emotional state.

"Damn, Brucie-bear, lucky you," Tony Stark wolf-whistled, clapping the doctor on the shoulder and receiving a fond eyeroll in return. Those two really were good friends. "Well, I won't hold you two back from getting to know each other better," Stark wiggled his eyebrows salaciously. "We can talk business tomorrow," with that, Stark waltzed over to Bailey, snatching the keys to her car out of her hands with a quick flick of his wrist. "Can't have a car allegedly containing a runaway prisoner on my property, now can I? Don't worry, babycakes, my people will take care of it. Bruce is family. You better treat him well, or else," the river of words flowed from Tony's mouth, causing the surprised Bailey to simply freeze in place and withstand his rambling, surrounded by the smell of whiskey and Stark's expensive cologne.

Despite his easy tone and the relaxed demeanor, Bailey knew a dangerous man when saw one. Tony Stark was not to be fucked with. "Yeah," she mumbled, scampering for the trunk to take out the duffle bag she carried around everywhere - just in case. Just in case her serial-killing, incarcerated-for-life soulmate would somehow found his way to her.

Tony looked at the spectacle with amusement. "You won't need your ID, sweetheart. All of that is going to be taken care of, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Duly noted," Bailey couldn't help the annoyed frown at Tony's frivolousness. Her government ID was the last thing on her mind. She wasn't stupid, she knew her mother would go to the cops as soon as she saw the news. "I have my own business to attend to. Might need a hand," the realization came with the dull thud of the trunk being slammed shut.

Tony's eyebrows rose; Bruce approached her with caution, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind. "Is it urgent?"

"Her mother knows about their connection," Strange piped up, glowing ember of the cigarette flying somewhere over the car. The sound of a lighter followed immediately, another dot of shiny red standing out in the twilight. "Don't worry, Bailey, she's detained and sedated for the time being," he offered with a crooked smirk, nearly no trace of the quiet man who bandaged her boo-boos when she was a child.

"You planned this," Bailey observed, fighting the dread crawling up her spine. The realization - she will never step back, will never be able to escape this life - set in. She was unprepared, having acted on a whim, prepared to live on the run but not within an arm's reach of her previous life yet unable to resume it.

"A long time ago," Strange nodded. "You always were a clever girl, Bailey. It is delightful to finally you where you belong," he smiled at Bruce in earnest.

Bailey wondered what else was going on in the sleepy town of hers. What kind of atrocities were committed daily under her nose, by the very people she knew and trusted. There was so much evil in this world.

But not Bruce. He could never be evil, even as he cut the hearts out of the men that had been treating those around them as objects. Bruce merely made them what they should've been; the greed, the infidelity - what use did those men have for their hearts? The Doctor was merciful and true: he never caused his patients undue pain and always, always left them in a state they were true to themselves. It wasn't his fault so many of his patients were heartless beasts for men.

Those clever hands, the same hands that brought the world at his feet, brought Bailey at his - voluntarily so. Their bodies hot, impatient for each other, with their blood singing a song of lust and longing, both of them hidden from the world by the heavy velvet curtains of Tony's estate - it was hellfire in heaven.

No amount of time too long as Bruce's teeth closed around Bailey's jugular, sinking into the flesh tenderly, all the while her nails penetrated the skin of his back; both drew blood, content to drown in it and wash their sins away with it. Heaven and Hell were merely words for the two, anyway.

Bruce Banner taglist:

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @pilloclock @sapphicnoodle69

#dark!bruce banner #bruce banner x reader #dark!bruce banner x reader #tw serial killers #what is this even asdfgk #my followers: FORGIVE ME #please #this is so undercooked 😭😭😭

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