Work Text:
Most people don't descend into the tunnels on purpose.
Ivan was never quite like other girls. Which, to be fair, wasn't usually a good thing. She tried to make up for it as best as she could in other ways, building up her strength and speed and other physical capabilities until she was an undeniably crucial asset to the team, carrying her fellow runners with the skills of the average mechanic spun threefold. Of course, it was understandable that nobody really wanted her to leave– the boss herself even deigned to send a note requesting that she hold off when she first started making remarks about running the tunnels, citing her as a, "valued, necessary member of the A team."
Necessary, certainly. Valued, perhaps. Cherished? Liked, even? Not so much.
Her personality got in the way, as it always did. Laser focus paired with a deep-set apathy, comic and light-hearted at all the wrong times. She knew the other girls couldn't stand her. It rarely mattered– half of them died within less than twenty four hours of meeting her, and the other half only lived when she herself bothered to personally save them. It doesn't matter what level one works at– the tunnels are dark, dirty work. She did only what was needed to survive them.
Not everyone understood that, of course. Working maintenance in the Pit was a job typically only reserved for the best of the best and the worst of the worst, the talented scum that upper management no longer wanted to deal with paired with the ones they didn't mind sending off to die like dogs. Yet even so, on the rare occasions when the light filtering in hit the metal of the machinery just right, a different kind of something would walk down those thin, tall steps, enlightening the minds of every little human monster that lurked in the lost void between each shield.
She lasted less than a day the first time Ivan saw her alive. Lucky for the both of them, the status of one's beating heart had long since stopped mattering.
The dick is kind of a new thing.
After watching the spiritual revival of many a coworker down in these halls, she'd thought she was long past being surprised by any of the weird shit that occurs around her workplace. She was incorrect, as it turns out, a long night of hitting the Denaturat perhaps a smidge too hard leaving her memories an empty slate when she wakes up to a new set of genitals smushed into the crotch of her sleep shorts.
Mizi is the first to notice, an unfortunate side effect of such cramped, sparse living conditions. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. She's polite about it, at the very least, albeit more than a little confused about what the hell they were doing last night to cause such a sudden shift. Ivan, on her part, cares little about the specifics of it. She's more inclined to simply take it as a sign, a tipping of the fates' hat as they drive by.
"Why is it so…" Mizi trails off, looking down with an amalgamation of some kind of mildly suppressed awe and a morbidly curious fascination.
Ivan tilts her head in the mirror. "Big?"
She frowns. "I was gonna say 'purple,' but that too, I guess."
Ivan kicks her shorts the rest of the way off, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear from where it had been drying on the towel bar. "Is yours not the same?"
"Nah. It's just, like, normal skin colored. Plus I've had it since forever…" Mizi trails off, respectfully averting her eyes as she spits toothpaste into the sink. "Did you really not have one before? You're not just fucking with me, right?"
Ivan snickers, bending over and picking her work pants off the floor. "There are better pranks, no?"
"I guess…" She rinses her mouth with faucet water, tossing her toothbrush back into the mug. "Still."
"Well, look. I wasn't wasting my money on pads for no reason."
Mizi shrugs. "Whatever."
A major part of growing up, of maturing from a snotty little girl to an elegant, refined young woman, is learning how to simply roll with the punches. In Ivan's view, anyway. It is the survival tactic that has allowed her to hold on to her life for so long, to move and breathe where others allow their panic to freeze them– swinging past doors before they crush inwards, snipping wires, dodging ghosts. It takes a calm, sound mind, clear of any distractions or fear, to navigate the tunnels properly. It takes courage. It takes strength. It takes caution, and self-control.
She wants to try it out so fucking badly. The second Mizi leaves the bathroom she considers it, dropping her pants down to her thighs and watching the fat thing flop around. She has nerves in it, something she became aware of the moment she first dropped her shorts that morning over the toilet and got an icy splash of shitter water right on the tip for her troubles. The sensitivity is kinda different than she's used to, weird, less intense but also more spread out, but it's at least there, and it can't take that long to jack off. Can it? She knows the movement for it, at least– rolling back through her memories she can pinpoint a time before the tunnels, before she was even really of age, back when things like societal expectations and relationships with men were still an annoyance hanging over her head, a half-assed handjob in the back of some douche's limo in a final rushed attempt to get him to agree to some fucking business deal or other. He didn't, in the end. Maybe it'd be worth it to practice a little more while she has the chance.
It's the work alarm beeping from her belt loop that breaks her out of it, yanking her trousers back up and snapping her gloves back on. It's not like she can practice where it really matters anyway. Her beloved will just have to put up with the trial period while she figures shit out a bit.
Orgasm-less but no less weighed down, it's with a skip in her step that Ivan scampers down to the looming, masticating, cage-like maw of her so-called "workplace," hopping easily over the chewed up remains of some newbie's rotting corpse as she slips in through the first door. Whoops. Maybe could've saved that one if she'd been just a bit earlier– or, maybe, the newbie could've avoided needing to be saved at all, had she just procrastinated a few minutes longer. It doesn't really matter either way. Ivan's sure to meet her soon enough regardless.
A blaze of glacial green fire, hot like freezer burn, breezes two inches away from her cap as she leans down to check on the machine. Speaking of. Right on time.
"Hey, asshole," the ghost grumbles, perching on top of the nearest generator. "Pay attention."
Ivan grins. Luck truly is with her today. "Hello. Do you, by any chance, happen to know where Till might be?"
Sua huffs. "Feeling sadistic today?"
Ivan twirls around the corner, slamming the final piece of the generator into place before she can stop her. Sua grunts. "No, just… I have a gift, I suppose. Mm, if you can call it that."
The ghost of her dead sister shivers at the thought, green bob shaking. "Ew. Gross. Gross. Okay, whatever, fine, last I saw she was hanging out down by Sector D. Keep your shit… over there. If you're going to be noisy about it," she adds, grimacing.
Ivan claps her hands, giddy. "Thank you, thank you!! Mizi should be the opposite way, if you're looking."
"Yeah, yeah. Watch for the newbie, by the way. Seemed bitter."
She salutes as she leaves, ignoring Sua's gag (as if she's never done worse) to run off in the appropriate direction.
Till is going to be so happy to see her.
Till is not even the slightest bit happy to see her.
"What the fuck even happened?!" she growls at her, hardly bothering to get an attack in before Ivan shuts down the generators and spins around to face her.
While it's true that ghosts tend not to keep many of their memories from their time alive, Till always seems to recognize her quickly, even on the days when they get assigned to run in pairs. At first, Ivan had wondered if that meant she had somehow managed to retain something, though she quickly shuffled that idea aside for the more obvious explanation, that Till simply remembered all the times they'd interacted during her ghost life.
Ivan tries not to purr too loudly or let her eyes get too bright and shiny as Till grabs her by the arm, ripping bandages out from… somewhere, and wrapping them cautiously around the cuts on her arms. Admittedly, she probably could've been more cautious throughout that battle (Ms. Newbie had a helluva throwing arm, at least when it came to pliers), but her excitement won out in the end. Plus, Till's hands touching her, grabbing her body, manipulating her as she pleased? Never a bad thing. Never.
"Was a bit distracted," Ivan murmurs dreamily. Till gives her that look, face scrunched, like if she squints hard enough she can read the transcript of her thoughts but only the consonants, leaving her with half an understanding and still too much detail.
"Idiot. You know how to watch your back better than that," Till gripes, voice scratching high with that exact tone that indicates she's about to go on a sermon.
Ivan grabs her by the thigh before she can continue it, ignoring the way the other girl gasps and smacks her away. "Something happened."
"You need to learn how to fucking talk normally," Till complains, "And stop looking at me like that. Just– fuck, spit it out. What the hell. What is it?"
Ivan swallows, suddenly nervous. Shit. What if this doesn't even work? It's not gone, she can feel that much– but what if she can't get it up? That's a problem some people have, right? Blood flow and all that?
"Uhh," Ivan stalls, frowning at the worst case scenarios. Well, no harm in trying. "Can you take off your top first?"
Till splutters. "Fuck? You??"
Ivan stands, ignoring the incredulous look Till gives her from her seat on the floor. "No harm in asking, I guess," she sighs, unbuckling her belt and dropping her pants.
Till gapes. She ogles. She stares, mouth wide open, shocked into silence for a good, solid ten seconds. Then she slams her mouth shut so quick her un-dead teeth audibly click loud enough for Ivan to hear it, eyes dropping to the floor.
"Absolutely not."
"Really?"
"Fucking– no way. Not ever."
"C'mon."
"No way. Not in this hell, or the next."
Ivan pouts. "…Please?"
"Okay. Look. First– no. I'm not. I can't, I'm not even– Ivan," Till says, looking up with some of the most visceral terror Ivan has ever seen plastered across her face, second maybe only to her actual literal death, "I. How the fuck did you ever get this shit? Are you paying Mizi off to do backrooms surgeries??"
Ivan shrugs. "Dunno. Woke up with it."
Till opens and shuts her mouth three times in succession, burying her face in her hands. Her face blushes lime, radioactive and iridescent, glowing like a light through the cracks in between her fingers. "I'm not taking that. That's not fitting inside me."
"…Let me tryyy?"
Till screams quietly into her hands.
She shakes as Ivan digs her tongue deeper into her cunt, jaw dropping open and a broken sound slipping past her lips before she can stop it, thighs shaking in her girlfriend's grip.
Till sighs, politely humping Ivan's face through the last of her orgasm. "Fuck. Sh't. 'Van. I thought you were, gonna try to stretch me…?"
Ivan hums happily, licking with the enthusiasm of a beloved family puppy tucking into their daily meal. She pulls away with a kiss, sucking the wetness off her bottom lip. "Easier like this."
"Hunhg?" Till makes a sound kind of in reply, still clearly out of it as Ivan rearranges their bodies on the floor, spreading her legs so Ivan can kneel between them. It'd probably be better to do this in a bed, but she still isn't entirely sure that ghosts can feel pain either, so. Taking the alternative. Making the best of it. The Ivan Way. Clearly, this was the initiative she was promoted for.
Till whines loudly as Ivan leans down on top of her, sucking at her neck as she slides another two fingers back in. Despite the ghostly pallor and in-humanity of her coloring, she doesn't actually taste all that different, though her skin buzzes sometimes, fuzzy, hazy, like she's fighting through the static to stick around, particularly so soon after cumming. She can't leave, that much Ivan is certain about.
She wouldn't let her, anyways.
"Mm, Iv– Ivan…" Till whimpers, hips jolting as she slides in further, "Too much."
Ivan coos. "C'mon. You can take it."
Till curls around her, clingy and sweet, so sweet, so lovely and beautiful and good, all icy skin and cute, short hair that curls around her flushed face just perfectly, anything Ivan has ever wanted. The only thing she's ever wanted. She spreads her legs easily, accepting another finger. Ivan kisses her on the cheek.
"Good girl," she whispers in her ear. Till pulls her in tighter, nails digging into her back, scratching. "Doing so well."
"I am…?" Till asks, dizzily.
"Yes, of course. See? You can handle it," Ivan says, teasing the tip against her entrance, dripping violet against lime.
Till whines, body curling as Ivan presses in, sweat dripping down her thighs. Her mouth drops open when Ivan forces the head inside, sound cutting off halfway out of her mouth. "–uck. Fuck. Fuck."
Ivan shushes her, sliding in further, as gentle as she can. She watches carefully as Till stretches, rubbing a finger along the smooth edges of her cunt as she sinks in. "Yes. That's it, very good."
"Ivan–" Till gasps. "It's too much–"
"Aww, really?" she asks, fucking in a little farther. Till squeezes her legs around her hips tighter, nails dragging down. "Relax a bit, love. You're almost there."
It's both shockingly easy and much, much more difficult than she'd expected to stuff the rest of her new cock inside Till's shaking, oversensitive body, rocking her slowly with each careful press forward into that cold, tight space, hot like ghost fire and ten times as delightful. It's a nice feeling. She hopes she can keep this thing for a while.
"There, see? Was that really so bad?" she asks as she finally bottoms out, hips knocking up against Till's again.
Till makes a noise like a deer bleeding out in the middle of the road, a generator's final wheeze goodbye as it cracks and burns and smokes out the rest of its meager life. Tears run from her eyes, wetness dripping down her ass as she lies there and takes it, gripping Ivan's shoulders for dear life.
Ivan smiles, happy, poking the bulge in her gut. "Cute. You can see it."
Till sobs.
"Uhngf, I-va–n," Till moans, voice cracking.
Ivan slams into her from behind, admiring the way her ass bounces when she smacks her hard enough. "Yes?"
She holds her rhythm as Till stumbles over her words, drooling down her chin, tongue tangled on the syllables as she slides down, face to the floor, hips in the air. "Fuck. Fuck. N-nevermind. Fuuuck. Harder."
"Whatever you say."
The first time she finally cums, it's weird. Nice, but weird. She finds she somewhat prefers it the old way, gasping at the sudden burst of sensitivity and pain when she lingers inside for too long, Till's grip tightening agonizingly.
More pleasant is the way Till cries out at the feeling of something hot spurting into her, the wet squelch when she slides out, dripping purple in her wake.
"…Is that it?" Till asks, exhaustion seeping into her voice, eyes fluttering back open. "Are you done?"
Ivan grunts, sighs, then slams back in. "One more time."
"You like this position?"
She can tell Till is seriously out of it when she actually bothers to nod yes, grinding down on her desperately. Ivan bucks her hips, snickering at the sound that gets her, tightening her grip on her hips as she begins bouncing her girlfriend on her lap.
"Mm, j-just– one more, shit, Ivan, one more– p-please–"
Ivan nods, licking the bitemark embedded in her lover's neck. Till whimpers. "As many as you want."
Ivan pokes Till's cheek, peering down at her curiously as she sits beside her. "…Are you alright?"
Till hides her face in Ivan's hip, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't feel my legs."
Ivan smiles, patting her happily on the thigh. "Oh, that's alright," she says, picking her up.
Till scoffs, curling in, dried tear tracks dampening the glow of her blush. "Fucker. Like you get to decide that."
"Mm. It's okay, I take responsibility."
"Do you?" Till asks, grumpy as Ivan kicks off and starts sprinting through the tunnels, dodging through fast enough to not be caught by the few ghosts that still linger at the end of the work day. "Do you fuckin' actually? What the hell was the purpose of all that, anyway. There's no way any of that was at all fuckin' necessary."
"We-ll," Ivan drawls, "Y'know. I was just doing some tests."
Till glares at her. "I noticed. And the results?"
Ivan kisses her cheek, kicking the next door open. "Mm, I dunno. What do you know about ghost ovaries?"
Till goes silent and unmoving in her grip, staring up at her with a slowly growing horror. "You– no."
"Guess we could always try again."
Till laughs. Then laughs again. "This is why everyone hates you. You know that, right? You do?"
Ivan smiles, flying through the shields– lover in her arms, joy in her heart, cock in her pants. "I love you too."