#‘put the stopper in the sink’ like ???

[mearcatsreturns]

The plumbers and workmen are here taking out the sink and part of my cabinets. Hopefully this will finally, FINALLY fix with my kitchen flooding issues. Cross your fingers for me!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You don’t know when he stopped, you’re just happy it’s over. For now. You know better than to think it won’t happen again. 

His shadow moves around, vague and ominous. You lay where he left you. The mattress feels thin beneath you, your body sunk from the force of his appetites. Your body aches as his assault scars you more than skin deep. Bitemarks and bruises pulses as your insides knot and tug in ceaseless horror. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. You listen to him shift around; it sounds more as if the house shifts around him. He leaves the bedroom and you roll onto your side with a rattling effort. You whine and tuck your hand between your thighs, raw from his incessant pounding. 

It’s like something in him broke. There was no control in what he did. No restraint or relent. He is more than inhuman, he is monstrous. 

When he returns, a grunt crackles from him. He comes to the bed and it dips with his weight. He grabs your shoulder and forces you onto your back. You brace yourself for more. 

His cowl is gone. His brows arch and the scar down the side of his face pales with the strain. He raises his hand and you wince. He tilts his head then shakes it as he shows you a handful of the silver packets. You blink in confusion.  

You take a breath and try to speak. Your throat is brittle and dry. You clear it and push a hoarse whisper, “not hungry.” 

He tuts and drops the packets, keeping one in his hand. He points to the label. Day 2 – Dinner. It’s still sealed. He tosses it and takes another, once more tapping the slanted lettering. You think you know what he’s saying. 

You hug yourself and swallow, trying to wet your tongue. “I wasn’t hungry. Stomach hurt.” 

He looks down and sifts through the packages. He turns them over and his forehead wrinkles. He gathers them all and carries them away. 

You stare after him as he stomps out of the room. You uncross your arms and press your hands to the bed. You sit up and look down at the remnants of the nightgown. You free your arms and bring your knees up to hug them. You whimper at the friction between your legs. 

He comes back. His hair is greasy and some has a red tint at the tips. You don’t want to think of what that is. His neck shows a layer of filth and his clothes are stained and dusty. You look down and find much of it smeared on your skin. 

He marches over to you. You cower and he stops at the edge of the bed. He raises his hand slowly, as if to coax you. You stare as he holds it open to you. Your insides throb and you take his hand, not wanting to provoke another episode. 

He leads you from the bed and takes you through the front room into the bathroom. He puts you by the sink and turns away. You shiver, trying to shield your naked body with only your arms. He bends over the tub and rinses it out then puts the stopper in place. 

He faces you and works at unstrapping his body armor. You stare at him, legs trembling, and move to lean on the sink to keep from keeling over. He watches you with a dimple in his forehead. 

He undresses, piece by piece, until he’s naked. You stay as you are until he grabs you. He drags you to the tub with him. You step in at his insistence and he angles you around. He lowers himself first then brings you down over him. The water laps between your feet as it fills the porcelain. 

You can’t relax, even as the heat soothes your tortured muscles. With him so close, you can’t ever let your guard down again.  

He brings his hand up your thigh and around your hip. He tickles your stomach and spreads his hand over one side of your chest. You shiver and steel yourself. He toys with you, not unkindly, and you brace the sides of the tub. 

As the water reaches the brim, he sits you up with him to shut it off. He reclines again, hooking his other arm around your middle. You like this softness less than his rough return. You can handle the cruelty, you expect it, but these moments confound you. It’s like a game you can’t win. 

Silence steams with the water. You don’t move. You can’t. You have to do something. Say something. But what? 

“I’m sorry,” you eke out. You’re not sure why you say that, but you are sorry. That moment flashes in your head, when you tried to use his name. That seemed to set him off. “Thank you for the food and the wood. I’m sorry I didn’t eat it all.” 

He growls but doesn’t say anything. He shifts and nuzzles the top of your head, his hot breath pluming over your scalp. The rigidity slowly seeps from him, thought that underlying stiffness remains. 

“I tried to keep it clean. I didn’t know... what else to do. I... I don’t know why I’m talking. I’ll-- I’ll stop,” you exhale and stare at the corroding mouth of the faucet. 

He drags his hand up from your chest and cups your chin. You twitch and his thumb stretches up to toy with your lower lip. Your grimace and let him poke around. He huffs in frustration then with two fingers, moves both your lips. He traces his touch down to your throat. 

“You want me to talk?” You ask. 

He pushes his nose firmly against your crown. You take that as affirmation. What do you talk about? You glance around and search for anything. You’ve been so bored and yet you can’t think of much. 

“My... my grandma had a tub like this,” you utter awkwardly. “It was her favourite place. She would read in there for hours. Funny, she... she wasn’t much of a kid person so we usually just did our own thing.” You ramble as your voice cracks, “and... we broke her favourite clock. It had a glass cover over it... I... just a silly memory.” 

He hums and caresses your cheek. You gulp again and hold back a quiver. If you can keep him calm for just a little, then you’ll find something to talk about. You just need to think about anything but the here and now. 

[changenameno]

Shower Head PART 2

(Complete, link to the first part down below ⬇️ )

Summary: You thought you were already ‘finished’. But Sy has other plans. You’re not only going to get dirtier, a certain hotel roommate might crash your bath time. But maybe you don’t mind?

 

Paring: Syverson x Fem. Reader, Walter Marshall x Fem. Reader

 Warnings: MDNI, 18+, daddy kink, size kink, p in v, bathtub sex, brief voyeurism, pet names, praise kink, spanking (like one time), rough sex, anal sex, overwhelmed reader, penetration in both holes at once, threesome

Word Count: 3.7K

 

A/N: Again, just VERY shameless smut. Writing this second part because @uunotheangel asked (I hope you’ll like it?) and also I can’t get Sy out of my mind among someone else…

Any mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! Thank you and enjoy ❤️✨

 

! Neither Syverson nor Walter are my creation!

 

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 (In case you’ve missed PART 1)

 

 

PART 2

 

As Sy stepped into the bathroom of his own hotel room, you noticed that it seemed a lot more spacious than yours. There were two sinks, along with a big bathtub and a shower. That made you frown, why was his room so much better than yours?

 

It didn’t escape his notice that you angrily glared about the room, he chuckled, “What’s the matter, sugar?” You immediately turned your head to glare at him instead, as he very well knew, what the matter was.

 

“Alright in my defence, I didn’t book the room. Not payin’ for it either. S’ supposed to be a work event.”

 

 

That confused you further, so you leaned back a little in his arms to be able to look at his face better, “What do you mean work event?”

 

 

“Sort of like team building or somethin’.” Apparently that was all you were going to get, because Sy leaned down over the tub to put the stopper in and then turned the water on.

 

He sat down on the toilet seat with you on his lap, waiting for the water to fill the tub. You were straddling his meaty thighs.

In any other situation you might have begun shivering but not with him as you were sufficiently warmed by his body alone. He was a furnace, which certainly came in handy right now. You scooted a little closer to his chest, enjoying his warmth, burring your head into his neck.

 

 

Sy’s hand was lazily stroking up and down your spine, while the other rested on your ass, pressing you against him. You signed, placing soft kisses below his ear, when you suddenly noticed that something else began poking into your rear.

 

 

A little exasperated you lifted your head, staring into his sparkling, blue eyes as he smirked, answering your unasked question, “What can I say? I’ve got a naked, little minx straddlin’ my lap, what’d you do?”

That last part of the question didn’t make a lot of sense to you, until another voice sounded from behind. Making you whirl around, staring at the intruder as he playfully replied, “Well I’d invite my mate to join. Wouldn’t you?”

 

 

You were so taken aback by the sudden appearance of the other man, you didn’t even try hiding your naked body from his curious eyes instead you just gaped at him. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt and blue jeans, burly arms crossed in front of his broad chest, as he leant against the doorway. His dark curls were falling into his face, sly smirk surrounded by a beard.

 

 

His deep blue eyes rested on your face, seemingly waiting for a reaction from you. But you were still preoccupied with wrapping your mind around the situation, frozen on Sy’s lap indefinitely.

 

Not until he softly bounced you up on his lap did you finally react to the second man, stuttering out, “Wh-what, who…who are…?”

 

 

They had the audacity to laugh at your adorably flummoxed state. At last Sy answered amused, “That’s Walter. He’s a colleague of mine and coincidentally my best friend. Also here for the team buildin’. Didn’t I mention that I share I room with him?”

Your eyes flew to his, raising your brow, sarcastically replying,” Oh yeah. Of course, you’ve mentioned Walter, right after you locked the bathroom door apparently.”

 

 

“You really are a little minx, aren’t you?” When you turned back to Walter, he winked at you, still very much amused, then he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Your eyes were carefully fixed on his approaching figure. When he was in arms reach he stopped, squatting down in front of the toilet, looking up at you “But to get serious for a second. I’d very much like to join you for a bath. Would that be alright with you, darling?”

 

 

His whole demeanour was so trustworthy, you felt yourself nodding, wanting nothing more than this other handsome man to join you and Sy. As he got up, he shook his head lightly, sharing a look with Syverson, before glancing back at you, “Ah no darling, I’m afraid we’d need verbal confirmation going forward.”

Because you stayed silent, Sy added, “Could ya do that for us, sugar?”

 

 

In your daze you nearly nodded again, before catching the movement and replying out loud this time,” Ye-yes.”

 

“Yes, what?”

 

“Yes, I…I’d like Walter to join us, please.”

 

“Mmh what a polite, little kitten we’ve got ourselves here.”

 

 

Walter stood up, turning to the tub and shut the water off, as he deemed it full enough, especially for three people. Sy bounced you up on his thighs again to shift your attention back to him, whispering in your ear “Walter is gonna get a little warm with all these clothes on, don’t ya think? Wanna help him, love?”

 

 

You bit your lip, slowly sliding down from his lap, turning around to face Walter, though hesitating a moment too long. As a huge paw slapped your ass suddenly, making you jump and shriek at the stinging pain, “Get goin’, daddy is watin’, sugar.”

 

 

Heat spread through your entire body at Sy’s commanding husk and his choice of words had you swallowing thickly. Walter gazed hungrily at your naked body, admiring your beautiful form.

Standing before him, made you realize that he too, was quite tall. You let your hands glide over his arms, up to his shoulders, staying there and waiting for him to initiate the next move. You didn’t have to wait long, as he smiled and dipped his head down, stopping a hair’s breadth of your lips. Overcome with a deep seated desire you quickly pressed yours to his. Walter’s hands landed on your waist, drawing you closer, reciprocating the kiss. Groaning when he felt your soft skin beneath his fingertips.

 

 

His kiss felt different to Sy’s, slower somehow but just as hungry. Then his tongue slipped out, gliding over your lower lip begging for entrance, you moaned, letting him in. Your tongues fought for a moment, though he won, dominating and deepening the kiss.

 

 

When you two separated, a loud splash made you turn. Sy had entered the tub, grunting deeply as the warm water surrounded his body, his delicious deep rumble making your nipples harden. As if on command, your hands moved on their own, grabbing onto the rough fabric of Walter’s sweatshirt and started to pull it up. He lifted his arms, assisting you. Slowly his chest came into view, it was covered in dark curly hair which lead down to a significantly tented crotch. He encouraged you, by placing your hands on the waistband of his pants, “Don’t be shy, darling. Go on, open it.”

 

 

You needn’t be told twice, swiftly opening his fly, fingers disappearing into his boxers, dragging the remaining coverage down his painfully thick thighs. Walter’s stiff cock sprang free, slapping against his navel. Your eyes widened as he stepped out of the jeans. Walter’s cock wasn’t as thick as Sy’s but his was definitely a bit longer. Thinking about taking them both, had your cunt fluttering so much, you were convinced your juices were running down your thighs by now.

 

 

Walter’s hand took your smaller one, leading you to the tub, and ever being the gentleman helping you step over the rim and inside. Sy had been watching you the whole time, stretching out his own hand to pull you down into the water and onto his lap once more, letting his hands rest on your hips. You moaned when your body was covered by the warm water, submerged to your bellybutton. You straddled his thighs, trapping his monstrous cock between your bodies.

Small waves rippled the surface as Walter joined you. Even with you three inside the tub, surprisingly no water sloshed over the edge.

 

 

Walter had kneeled down behind you, his hard rod insistently pressing against your arse. Hands touching your upper arms before wondering more to the front, cupping your boobs, kneading them roughly and using the momentum to pull you more against his chest. Mewling you tipped your head back, arms wrapping around Walter’s neck.

 

“That’s it, such a good girl. Just relax, darling.”

 

 

You briefly wondered why he’d said to relax, but then you felt Sy’s cockhead rubbing through your folds. This time he shoved you down, driving inside to the hilt, making you cry out at the sudden fullness. If he hadn’t fucked you already, he surely would have torn you apart with his fat cock. You squirmed on his lap, trying to lift your hips, as your pussy had trouble to relax and accommodate him.

 

He grunted deeply, “Sh, sh be good for daddy. Breathe, breathe. Yeah just like that”. You ceased your squirming, actively letting out the breath you were holding, somehow sinking even deeper down his length, settling against his balls. “That’s it, atta girl.”

 

 

Walter couldn’t hold back any longer, you looked too delicious, mewling as your pussy was stretched out so thoroughly, so he began moving his hips, rubbing himself against your ass, nibbling at your earlobe.

 

Gruff voice, growling,” Can’t wait much longer. Sorry, darling. Think you can take me in that delectable little pucker of yours?”

 

 

Even though Sy’s big cock already felt like a lot on his own, you really wanted Walter’s inside you as well, craving to be filled by both men. Imagining the way they’d stuff you so perfectly, it made your mouth water and your head bob wildly in agreement.

 

 

Slap.

 

 

“Ouch,” you howled as Walter had slapped your right tit, skin tingling. Your traitorous pussy clenched around Sy’s throbbing cock inside you, though you still whined half-heartedly, “Argh, what was that for?”

 

 

Sy huskily answered, “What did we say about verbal confirmation, sugar?”

 

You understood now. “Oh, erm… ‘m sorry daddy,” you apologised, blinking up at Walter. Who growled, repeating his previous question more urgently this time, “Your ass ready to take me now?”

 

 

Knowing it would antagonise him further, you slowly circled your hips, grinding against him teasingly, “Yes daddy. Please, need you inside...”

 

His deep blue eyes, held a storm of desire inside as he cursed, “Fuck, you’re too exquisite for your own good, love.”

 

 

He placed his large hand on your shoulder blade, pushing you forward so your rear end was out of the water and you were laying chest to chest with Sy. Who in turn, groaned as the movement had him slide against your gummy walls. You had wrapped your arms around Sy’s neck, head hanging low, lips grazing his ear lightly, as that was more comfortable in the new position.

 

 

Walter’s free hand had grabbed his cock, placing the head against your puckered rim, beginning to push inside. The warm water had helped you relax, but you weren’t very prepared for his size. You whimpered as he slowly filled you. When you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, pleasure dwindling into pain, a rough thumb began rubbing your clit. Making your hips buck forward, at the sharp lightning of pleasure cursing through you. Someone’s hands immediately flew to your hips to hold you still.

 

 

Panting loudly, Walter pressed out,” Hell, you’re so fucking tight, not sure I’ll fit.”

 

 

Sy continued expertly petting your little pearl, though adding earnestly, “Mmh yeah wait, pull back out. I-…” Protesting vehemently, you interrupted him with a loud mewl. “N-no I…I can take it…don’t stop!”

 

He chuckled,” Appreciate your enthusiasm, sugar. But-…” You interrupted him again, pleading eyes locking onto his, as you whined louder when you felt Walter pull back, “No! No pl-please, I want it. I can take it…”

 

 

Sy’s gaze softened even more as he tried to calm you down, “Love, relax. I’m not sayin’ no. I’m just sayin’ not like this, we need lube.”

 

 

That instantly made you feel better, because you had previously believed they wanted to stop entirely, and that had put you in a bit of a frenzy, as you didn’t want to stop. Breathing coming easier as Walter had pulled out completely by now. You were shocked that you hadn’t noticed how tightly wound your body had become because of the second large intrusion. Very thankful that they’d looked out for you, caring about your wellbeing.

 

 

Sy’s hand stroked over your cheek, “Better isn’t it?”

You breathed back,” Yeah.”

 

 

Walter declared, “Be right back.” And with that he left the tub. You laid your head onto Sy’s chest, watching his retreat, focusing in on his dripping wet body or more truthfully his juicy ass.

 

“You alright, sugar? We can stop if it’s too much.”

You lifted your head to be able to peer up at him, met with a very concerned face. Smiling reassuringly you answered, “I’m fine.” As he only raised his brow sceptically, you added, “Promise. I feel very cared for by you two.” You saw he wanted to protest, so you leaned up, pulling him in for a kiss to shut him up. He seemed to relax, as did you, very content with where the evening was headed now.

 

Just as you two separated, Walter returned bottle in hand, pulling the bathroom door closed behind him, for the second time this evening. He quickly made his way over and stepped into the water, sighing at the temperature change.

 

 

Kneeling behind you once more, his hand grabbed your chin, turning it gently to gaze at your face, “Are you sure you want to continue? We can stop anytime.”

 

Warmth pooled in your belly at the gentleness with which they handled you. Beaming at him, “Yes I’m sure and I want to continue, please.” He searched your face for a moment, then nodded, “Alright, darling.”

 

You couldn’t help but squirm happily on Sy’s lap, turning your head back to him. Without warning Sy lifted him, and therefore you, out of the water, sitting down on the generous edge of the bathtub, leaning his back against the wall. Hissing as the cool tiles touched his back.

 

 

His hands rearranged you a bit, so you straddled his thighs like before, but he’d spread his legs further apart this time, giving Walter the space he needed. Which he immediately acted on, rising out of the water as well, stepping so close to you Water from his body started dripping down onto yours. Teasingly tickling down your spine.

 

Walter licked over his lips, taking in the erotic scene in front of him, your knees spread wide, ass enticingly calling to him, as you wiggled on Sy’s lap impatiently. Laughing quietly at your eagerness, he opened the bottle of lube, applying a generous amount to his angrily throbbing cock. Sliding his hand up and down for good measure, enjoying the two pairs of eyes that rested on him.

 

 

Until Sy grunted, “Get on with it. That sweet cunt is squeezin’ me like crazy and I really wanna start moving.”

 

 

Walter’s fingers landed on your hole, starting to lubricate it. Sliding up and down, then carefully pressing two long, wet fingers inside. This time it didn’t burn, even when he pushed in to his knuckles, instead your own juices actually ran down your spread thighs, dripping onto Sy’s balls, as he still was buried to the hilt.

The second Walter began scissoring his fingers, moving them in and out, you clammed down hard on both ends, coming unprompted with a loud moan.

 

 

Sy’s hands tightened on your hips, knuckles turning white. Walter cursed, “Fu-fuck. What a good girl, coming on daddy’s fingers like that.” You just moaned some more as he kept fingering you for a while longer.

 

 

When he finally pulled them out, something much bigger pressed to your rosebud. You felt him entering you, pressing deeper and deeper inside. All three of you panting loudly. Your fingers dug into Sy’s shoulders, head falling back onto Walter’s chest, as you were certain his cock was breaching new territory. Reaching so far inside, you were surprised your belly wasn’t protruding.

 

A loud groan later, and he was finally completely inside, “Arrgh you feel amazing. Gripping me so tight…”

 

 

You couldn’t answer him even if you wanted to, only concentrating on relaxing your muscles around both their cocks. The sudden pleasurable taps to your clit igniting your body, definitely helped. Sy’s rough thumb was dancing through your weeping pussy. They let you squirm around between them, both men enjoying your quivering, hot channels, grunting with every little spasm of your body.

 

 

“That’s it, darling. Taking us so well.”

 

 

Nearly losing your mind, with the bliss of having them both inside but not yet moving, you barked, “Move. PLEASE…”

 

Apparently that was the magic word, as you felt Sy’s fat cock slide out, till only his tip remained inside, then he slammed all the way back, making you cry out as Walter’s cock also began moving. Though opposed to Sy’s thrust, so if one left your body the other was there to fill it up again.

 

 

Every thrust, forced another moan out of your mouth.

“What a good girl.”

 

 

So overwhelmed by pleasure you didn’t even know who said it, but you managed to push back your hips, back arching. You were having the most amazing time, between their bull-sized bodies, ramming into yours without abandon. Hitting every single sweet spot of yours.

 

Powerful hands were roaming your body, one pair kneading your tits, the other guiding you by the hips, helping them rut into you more efficiently. Intensifying your pleasure and desire further. Panting and whimpering for them.

 

 

Your eyes, long been closed, flew open when both men had pulled out just to thrust their thick cocks back inside simultaneously. “Mmmmh, soo go-good,” you cryed out. “So… so biiig.”

 

Sy cooed, “Aww look at you, completely fucked out…”

Walter quipped in, “Not that we’re faring any better… Sweet body of yours… too fucking tight…”

 

 

They picked their pace up after that, making you so delirious, only jumbled, unintelligible words left your mouth. A tension continuously began forming inside you, every push of their strong hips, bringing you closer to the umpteenth orgasm of the evening.

 

 

Thankfully they seemed to be just as close to their own release as you were, going by their ever increasing pace and loud grunts, followed by Sy’s shout, “Not gonna last much longer!”

 

 

More or less trapped between them, you bounced around like a rag doll, not having to do much, as their cocks ploughed away at your dripping holes. When a bearded mouth latched onto one of your nipples while the other was pinched between two calloused fingers, you started to see stars. Tension inside snapping, with a screech, nails digging into skin, “Nnngh, com-coming…!!” Your whole body went rigid, back bowing even more as you came.

 

 

A thick warm arm wrapped around your middle, two pairs of hips continuously meeting your body, not only prolonging your climax but coaxing another out.

 

 

“Arrgh, darling, that’s it…”, and without further delay both crashed a last time into you as deeply as they could, cocks pulsing violently before spilling their hot seed inside.

 

Your body still jolted from the aftermath of the most intense orgasm you’ve had to date. And as your sensitive pussy still clenched around Sy, he mumbled tiredly, “Okay…gotta pull out…still too damn tight…”

 

 

Walter let his cock slip out first, taking your hips, carefully lifting you up and off Sy’s dick. You whimpered softly at the sudden emptiness, as both had left your body. Walter didn’t let go, supporting your weight, as you leaned into him. A hand of his glided down your chest and between your shaking legs. Cupping your mound as he whispered, while biting your shoulder gently, “What a beautiful mess.”

 

 

Before you grew too sensitive he pulled his hand back, showing it to you. It was drenched in your juices and their sperm, as he brought it to your mouth, you obediently opened and licked it clean. Tasting yourself and their salty, tangy seed. Smacking your lips together once you were finished cleaning up his hand.

 

 

“Good girl, “Sy praised you, hooded eyes resting on your form.

 

 

As all the energy had been fucked right out of you, you couldn’t do much. Not even standing on your own. Of course they knew, so they manhandled you out of the tub, gently cleaning you up, placing you back inside as soon as it was filled with fresh, steaming water.

 

 

The warm water did wonders on your sore muscles, relaxing you so much in fact, you didn’t even know which chest you were currently lying against. Nor whose chest your feet were probed against, or who was massaging them.

 

 

Until the chest behind you rumbled, “You were amazing, love. Hadn’t had that much fun in years.”

 

You couldn’t open your heavy eyelids, but you managed to chirp out, “Yeah, me neither.” Then a mighty yawn betrayed your tiredness even further, sleepily curling into Walter’s hairy chest.

 

 

Sy drawled softly, “Mmh, you were perfect, sugar.”

When they saw you trying to fight off the sleep that wanted to claim your exhausted body, Walter added, “Sh, just relax, darling. We’ve got you.” You felt so safe with them that you did as he said, dozing off.

 

 

Only waking again, when a soft blanket was thrown over your body, mattress dipping behind you.

 

They had not only cleaned you, dried you off and laid you down on your bed. No. To your delight they had also decided to join you, cuddling into your body. The only indicator that you were awake, a soft, content, “Mmpf” breathed into the chest your head was resting on. Not wanting to open your eyes, you wiggled weakly into the warm body spooning you, to find out who was who.

A hand gripped your naked waist from behind, stilling your movement, followed by a deep, drowsy huff, “Go back to sleep, sugar.”

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[togrowoldinv]

Washing the Dishes

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Natasha Romanoff can do just about anything, but she’s never washed dishes. You offer to help her and feelings come to light

Note: Soft Nat, woo! I was washing the dishes tonight and came up with this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Natasha is always willing to help the team do chores around the compound. Usually she cleans the floors or does laundry, but today she offered to wash the dishes after dinner.

You watch Natasha from the table where you’re finishing up eating dinner.

“Do you need help, Nat?” You ask Natasha. She grips the counter and sighs.

“Where is the thingy that blocks the water?” She asks. You try not to laugh, realizing that she really doesn’t know what it’s called.

“I’m here to help,” you tell Natasha. You slip next to her. “The stopper is right here. It’s in the sink drain and just needs to be twisted to ‘block the water,’” you say the last part to quote her.

“It’s not my fault I haven’t washed dishes before,” Natasha shrugs.

“Really?”

She shakes her head and for some reason it makes your heart hurt. It’s something so simple, but the superhero stands here helpless.

“I’ll show you how,” you say. “First, let’s get the water to hot and then we can use the stopper.”

Natasha listens intently as you explain how to do the steps. You let her do them and she’s proud of herself with each one she accomplishes.

“Alright, you’re ready to wash away,” you say once she’s got the soap in the water. “How about I rinse?”

“Sure, thank you.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes as Natasha washes the dishes delicately and hands them to you to rinse. You do your part with ease but she never feels rushed by you to wash faster.

“You’re probably wondering how I’ve never washed dishes,” Natasha breaks the silence after a while.

“I know that you didn’t have an exactly normal childhood, but I figured you would’ve done it in your adult life,” you say.

She shrugs. “Never had to. I didn’t stay in a place long enough and at the tower Tony had a high tech dishwasher installed.”

“We could use one here,” you say.

“I guess. But it’s kind of nice using my hands. Feels like it’s really doing something,” she says.

There’s an adorable smirk on her face and you can’t help but blurt out, “You’re so cute.”

A blush spreads on Natasha’s cheeks as you feel your own warm with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“That’s alright. Thank you though,” she says. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me cute.”

“I think you’re adorable,” you say boldly. “Those other people just don’t get it.”

Nat hands you the last dish. Something about the domesticity of washing the dishes with her makes you long to be with her. You’ve known you had a crush on her for a while, but this is sending you over the edge.

“Okay, it’s time to drain the water. Turn the stopper back to the way it was when we started and the water will drain,” you instruct her.

She does it perfectly and the water drains down the sink.

“Can I just run the water to get rid of the excess soap?” She asks.

“Yes, but use the sprayer.” She looks confused until you point to the sprayer on the rim of the sink. “Turn on the water please.”

Natasha does so and watches as you spray around one side of the sink. You hand it to her and she does the other side. While she’s putting it back where it goes, she accidentally sprays you with water.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, rushing to grab you a towel. She wipes the water from your neck and cheek. Her other hand holds your face steady.

Her thumb brushes over your jawline and lingers even once the water is gone. Natasha steps closer to you and both of you lean in slowly. She closes the distance between your lips with a slight pull at your neck.

Natasha’s lips against yours feels better than you could’ve ever imagined. The cliches about feeling like fireworks are going off and that the world is standing still are true as she kisses you.

“Thank you, y/n,” she tells you once she pulls away. Again, her hand lingers on your face.

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say in return, rendered pretty speechless from her kiss.

“For the record, I think you’re cute too,” Natasha says. “Would you like to have dinner with me sometime? Just us.”

“Yes please,” you respond.

She smiles and kisses you softly once more. You hear feet coming down the hallway and the two of you step apart and work together to dry and put away the dishes.

Natasha steals glances at you and her touch lingers when she hands you dishes. You’re so glad she decided to learn how to do a new task tonight and that she allowed you to help.

[murciafire]

Lady Lazarus

Jason Todd Angst

Summary: “You don’t get to die and be reborn the same. You come back, but you come back wrong. This is the price you pay for resurrection” – Nathaniel Orion

Warnings: angst, the poem is about Plath's attempts but nothing explicit

Words: >1000

Notes: The thought of Jason dying and then being resurrected often led me to think of “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath. I find that it’s even more appropriate considering that Jason’s died twice now (1988, 2024 – please let me know if I have it wrong). Since we all know that Jason reads classics, I felt that his thoughts might as well be as dramatic and poetic as seen in classic lit.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I have done it again.

There was a chipped tile in the corner of the wall where it met the smooth surface of the bathtub. My eyes would always catch it on the days I found myself lying in the bathtub, but it was so indiscernible that I didn’t think anyone else would remark it. (Not that I would care if anyone did, nor did anyone visit me, nor did I want anyone to). It was like a scar hidden under a chin that wouldn’t be evident until you tilted your face to where God should be (but perhaps in His absence, you could stare at the sun and the rays would make the sliver of cut skin silver, brilliant and hideous).

But such a break, where it was so insignificant, would bother no one unless you knew where to look for such fractures. And I, being that I am, often find myself wandering in an agonizing game of self-loathing where I’m drawn to discovering broken things like me. Which is why I think—and when I do think these thoughts, they’re often coupled with a heaving dry chuckle—I must cover the bathroom mirror. This game, or perhaps self-torment, is one that I often lose even when I win.

I put out my cigarette on the side of the tub—I had forgotten I had lit it. My nerves were so frayed that I didn’t think nicotine could absolve me any more than drowning myself in this bathtub hoping that a self-made baptism could bring me any closer to my father. I sighed, closing my eyes while dropping the crumpled cigarette on the floor beside me. My heart beat steadily in my chest, but I was already limp like I had given up. I felt a smile curl my lips into something cruel because here I was, in rose water which I wasn’t holy enough for, but damned enough that I was swimming in my own blood.

The bathroom, I thought, was a state of purgatory where all my thoughts merged into a state of expiatory purification.  Because I was alive and somehow—“One year in every ten I manage it—”

I groaned as my bones creaked and my muscles strained as I leaned over to pull the stopper. My eyes fixated on the swirling water, taking my blood with it. I blinked a few times, looking at my hands, no longer stained but very still. As if silence was a word to describe a motion—I wasn’t sure I was breathing. But I was.

And again I find myself moving, peeling myself off the floor of the tub, stepping over the edge. A sort of walking miracle, my skin bright as a Nazi lampshade, my right foot a paperweight.

I stood in front of the mirror and in my hesitancy, I found some courage, or as if reality took form and guided my hand to rip off the towel I hung over it, so I had to face what I saw in that tile: something broken. My face a featureless, fine Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin, O my enemy. Do I terrify?—

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh the grave cave ate will be at home on me.

I smiled, my laugh hollow as I wiped my face, continuing to recite Plath. “And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty and like the cat, I have nine times to die.”

I tossed the towel onto a hook on the wall before gripping the sink to stare at myself. “This is Number Three. What a trash to annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd shoves in to see them unwrap me hand and foot—the big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies—” I pushed off the sink, throwing my hands over my face. “These are my hands. My knees. I may be skin and bone, nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.”

I slid down to my knees, my chest heaving. “The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant to last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut as a seashell. They had to call and call and pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.”

I shut my eyes, feeling my body crumple to the floor and curl into itself. Silence, I decided, was a word to describe action. Because here I was, living silently.

“Dying,” I whispered, “is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I’ve a call.”

 

I rubbed my arm with my hand, my fingers brushing over scars—new and old. My body was littered with wounds, but no one could ever see the scar under my chin. Or perhaps, the one I wanted most to notice was the crack in my heart that shattered my soul.

“It’s easy enough to do it in a cell,” I muttered. “It’s easy enough to do it and stay put. It’s the theatrical. Comeback in broad day to the same place, the same face, the same brute amused shout: ‘A miracle!’”

I laughed or cried; I wasn’t sure. But air came out of my lungs and clawed at my throat to make some sort of sound so I knew I was still here, lying on the bathroom floor very much still alive. But it’s a miracle that I am, isn’t it?  That knocks me out.

There is charge. For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge. For the hearing of my heart—

It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge for a word or a touch or a bit of blood or a piece of my hair or my clothes.   So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus, I am your valuable, the pure gold baby that melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—

You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—

A cake of soap, a wedding ring, a gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer  

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.

[cultofdixon]

Nurse!

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Nurse Dixon here to nurse you back to health • SFW/Smol Angst • TW: Illness / Vomiting

Requested by: Anon

She’s late Daryl thought as he sat in the watchtower waiting not only for Abraham to relieve him of his shift but for Y/N to “come and get him” to go home and get in bed. But when Abraham beat her to it, he started to get worried for his girl.

The archer made his way quietly back inside, not to disturb Carol who was sleeping in the upper level of the house. Leaving the basement apartment for Daryl and Y/N. But when he drew closer to the bedroom he heard gagging.

Don’t jump the gun Dixon. You’re better than this. Don’t let your insecurity think the worse and as Daryl opens the door to see the little light shine through the bathroom. His insecurity died off as he instantly makes his way toward the light opening the door to find Y/N throwing up.

“H-Hey…” Y/N groans only having a second to speak before returning to throwing up. She heard footsteps disappear as she couldn’t blame Daryl for not wanting to be there.

But to her surprise, the bedroom light turned off and the door opened up more. Daryl came back without his crossbow on his back and a towel in hand with an extra change of clothes. He set those items on the sink counter before dropping to his knees beside her. The archer always had a hair tie on him just for her, plus he tugs on it whenever he’s anxious.

Y/N sat up long enough for Daryl to gently brush her hair back with his hands using the hair tie to tie it up in a ponytail. She was going to thank him but felt another wave from her unsettled stomach causing her to throw up again. This time Daryl rubbed soothing circles on her back as she did so until she was finished.

“Let’s get yea out of these clothes”

“I’m too tired D…”

“I know” Daryl continues rubbing circles on her back until Y/N started to relax finally. “But I bet yea feel nasty in the clothes you threw up in. Let me run a bath, get yea cleaned up and dressed, then to bed”

“You spoil me…”

“You’re worth it” Daryl stood up kissing the top of her head before getting the bath started.

Once Y/N was undressed and relaxing in the bath, Daryl took care of tossing her dirty clothes in the basket then went to change the sheets knowing she puts scented stuff last wash and it would upset her already upset stomach if she smelled it. After doing that he went to check on her, Daryl carefully pressed the back of his hand to her forehead watching her look up at him.

“How long have you not been feelin’ well, baby?” There was a hint of concern in his voice as he pulls his hand away, sitting on the edge of the tub feeling if the water was still warm or at least nice enough for her.

“I was working with Rick on securing the walls after the herd that came through a bit ago…” Y/N shifted a bit to get comfortable again. “Then I thought I was just dehydrated and maybe hungry cuz I haven’t eaten today. But once I got back here it felt way hotter than it was outside…then made the mistake of eating something when I started to not feel good.”

“Should’ve gone straight to bed, or tell Rick to find me sooner”

“You were on a run with Aaron by the time this was happening…and the sheets”

“I changed the sheets. Don’t smell like your floral stuff anymore” Daryl reached into the tub to remove the drain stopper and reaching for the towel. “Let’s get yea dressed”

“You spoil me D…”

“Mm. Yea just don’t gotta suffer alone, alright? Let me take care of yea” Daryl helped her lean forward enough once the water was drained, to wrap the towel around her shoulders before getting up and reaching in to pick her up bridal style.

Y/N sat comfortably on the edge of the bed with the towel wrapped around her as Daryl grabbed the clothes he set out previously. Once she was dressed, he helped her get comfortable before covering her in several blankets. Daryl knelt in front of her bringing the back of his hand back to her forehead.

“Yea have a fever. Gonna get some medicine from the infirmary”

“Can you make me soup?”

“If I find a can or two. Then maybe”

“Pleaseee” She pouts with puppy dog eyes that Daryl could never deny.

“I’ll make it tomorrow if you can handle food. But right now just try and sleep while I find something’ close to cold medicine” Daryl brushes away the loose hair in her face before kissing her forehead and going to get the medicine.

After about being gone for thirty minutes to get a few pills and two cans of the soup he found in the pantry, Daryl came back to find her fast asleep and thank god for that. He put the pills in a shot glass she found for him on a run, the only interesting thing about it was the squirrel print on it. That’s why Y/N picked it up. He set the glass on the nightstand beside her watching her shift a bit in her sleep. Before Daryl put her canteen beside the glass, he noticed the discomfort in her expression.

Right as Y/N was about to throw up, Daryl drops the trash can at the right moment she leaned over the edge to vomit.

“Nah don’t go layin’ back down. Gotta make sure you’re finished so you don’t aspirate”

“You…sound like a nurse” She tried to hold it in for a bit but couldn’t and threw up once more.

“More like Merle OD’d before. Yea learn a thing or two” Daryl frowns taking the rag from his back pocket out wiping away the excess once she finished throwing up. “Think it’s the flu” he helped her sit up in the bed by grabbing his pillow putting it on top of hers before letting her lean back.

“Eh what gave it away?” She jokes before taking the water bottle and pills handed to her by her partner.

“One of those should break the fever. The other helps with nausea. At least that’s what the bottle said.” Daryl brought himself to sit on the edge of the bed setting his rag on her nightstand.

“Gonna be a few days…”

“Yeah. Like most sick people recoverin’”

“‘M just saying, you don’t have to stay by my side the entire time”

“Well…” Daryl untied the laces on his boots slipping them off and climbing into the bed beside Y/N crossing his arms once he got comfortable against the headboard. “That’s too damn bad”

A small smile graced Y/N’s exhausted lips before getting comfortable on her side the best she could and fell asleep shortly after. Daryl on the other hand, stayed up a bit longer which meant staying up when the sun rose. Which wasn’t long given Daryl’s night shift ended at midnight and he spent a few hours taking care of Y/N.

“Daryl!”

Shit. The archer frowns stepping out of the infirmary after telling Denise Y/N’s symptoms to get a few more medicines to help with such. Now being day 3. Meaning he hasn’t talked to anybody but his partner since she first came down.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Home”

“Home? That’s it? I haven’t seen yea or Y/N in three days”

“You have plenty of others to do your bidding. I’m allowed a moments peace” Daryl frowns gripping the bottles in his hands that Rick took note of and started to get worried.

“What happened?”

“Y/N’s sick. That’s what’s been happenin’ the past few days. Taking care of my partner and you buggin’ is keeping me from giving her medicine”

“Right. Right. I’m sorry”

“But seriously though. There’s plenty of other people to do what yea need. Yea just gotta ask instead of waiting for me to just do it” that was the last thing Daryl said before physically leaving the conversation to go back to Y/N.

To Daryl’s surprise coming back to their home, Y/N moved to the couch. No longer being in the bedroom or in the bed that she started to feel disgusting in the longer she laid in there.

“Want me to—-“

“Finally make me soup” Y/N smiles a bit even through the very tired composure her entire body held. Daryl set down the medicine on the coffee table for her to investigate what they were until he took the thermometer out of his pocket which lead her smile to fade. “You’re not sticking that up my yknow”

Daryl quickly checked to make sure he grabbed the right one as Y/N started to laugh slightly. Bringing out an annoyed look from her partner.

“Sorry. It’s the right one, D.” Y/N took it carefully once he handed it to her as she stuck it in her mouth. “Wanted to mess with yea”

“Glad to see that came back…and that yer talkin’ more” Daryl sat on the coffee table once he got her a glass of water. He set the glass beside him watching her open one of the medicine bottles to take the required dose out. He handed her the glass trading it for the bottle then carefully taking the thermometer out while she took the pills. “Least it’s broke now. Still got a headache?”

“A little one. It started from being in that room for the past few days…”

“I cleaned your bucket already, I’ll change the she—-“

“You don’t have to do that…” Y/N pouts after washing the pills down hearing Daryl sigh before feeling his hand caress her cheek lifting her chin and her gaze to lock on him.

“You’re always takin’ care of me darling. Just let me return the favor”

Once that smile of hers came, Daryl rose to his feet kissing the top of her head. “I’m finally gonna make you that soup”

“Yes!” Y/N shouts wincing a bit to the pulsing pain in her head that the pain killer hasn’t kicked in just yet to get rid of. “Woof…” she rubs her temple for a moment.

After Daryl got the pot on the stove, he went to change the sheets in the bedroom while Y/N laid on the couch for a bit. He tossed the dirty cheers in the basket, about to grab the ones previous that he cleaned with unscented stuff when he heard footsteps behind him. He was going to turn around but felt the familiar warmth that came from his partner when she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I gotta—-“

“It can wait a minute. Haven’t held you in a few days…becoming touch starved” Y/N sighs holding him for a bit feeling him shift in her embrace but enough for him to turn toward her caging her in his arms.

“Once you’ve got some food other than toast in your system. We can cuddle”

“Mmm that better be a promise, Daryl Dixon”

And it was.

Once Y/N finally had a meal of sorts that didn’t instantly leave her system or threaten to do so. She found herself already fast asleep but in the embrace of the archer that finally got a good nights sleep knowing she will pull through from this illness.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

lil joel x reader drabble

sexual tension and some nudity. we all know what's coming next.

Okay but what if you don't really know Jackson!Joel, you just nod at him whenever you pass him by in the street (because that's what you do in Jackson), and you know nothing about him except what everybody knows: he walked all the way there with the girl, he's lethal, he's Tommy's brother, he's fucking dangerous, but when he looks at Ellie he smiles, and when she reads him puns from that book of hers he laughs, and it's the sound of someone who has longed to laugh for many, many years.

So one day he delivers something to your door. I don't really know what, maybe soup or something, and when you accept it, your fingers touch, and you lose your grip for a moment, and you spill it all over his plaid and jeans.

"Shit, oh shit, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking clumsy!"

"Don't worry about it, no harm done."

"Dammit, it's all over your clothes!"

"It's okay."

"I'm really sorry!"

And somehow he ended up inside your house, carrying the pot or whatever to the kitchen, where he puts it down, before assessing the damage. He takes off the plaid, and the t-shirt underneath is fine.

"Gimme that, I'll clean it for you."

"You really don't have to."

"I want to," you stress. "It was my fault. Come on, jeans too."

He has already handed you the plaid, but now he's shaking his head.

"Joel, I insist. Go home, get changed, bring me back the jeans."

"I only have this one pair."

"All the more reason for me to clean them!" you point out as you turn your back and go to the sink, turning on the water and putting down the plaid. "Come on now, you think I haven't seen a guy in his undies before?"

You try to make your voice light, but you know you failed. It has been a long time since you last saw a man in his undies, and a man like Joel Miller...

You hear him taking off his boots, then the rustle of his jeans, finally the belt buckle hitting the floor with a low thunk. When you turn around to accept the pants, you stop still.

Except for the t-shirt and socks, he's naked. The hem of the shirt just about covers the little round of his belly, and you can very plainly see the dark hair running down between his legs, where his cock and balls hang snugly against the mass of hair.

You gulp, and realize that you have stared at his crotch for longer than is considered polite. When you meet his gaze, you see that he is teasing you. He's not even holding the jeans in front of his crotch, oh no, his hand is resting comfortably at his side.

"You do realize that I can't go out like this?" he asks you in a low voice that makes the hairs at the nape of your neck stand up. You nod, stupefied.

"And that I'll have to wait here until my pants are dry?"

You nod again. He takes a couple of steps towards you, and hands you the jeans. You accept them, hand trembling slightly, and turn around quickly to shove the jeans into the sink, along with the plaid. You look for the soap, the drain stopper, and splash water on the floor.

"You need any help?"

Joel is suddenly right behind you, startling you as one of his hands come to rest on your waist.

"I'm good," you manage.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll just let these soak..."

You turn off the water, and take a deep breath. Okay, here goes.

Slowly, you turn around, your hip grazing his cock that doesn't seem to limp anymore. Joel takes a step closer, trapping you between himself and the sink.

"They gotta soak for a while," you tell him quietly, before clearing your throat. "For quite a while, in fact."

He smirks, and leans in to press his lips against yours.

[floralpascal]

Water Temperature

Summary: Gaz likes baths and showers cold. You like yours super hot. It leads to some teasing on both sides

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 492

Rating: Mature (Some sexual insinuations though so 18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: nudity, gratuitous looks from everyone involved, hints of sexual insinuations, talk of super hot and cold water

A/N: This is just a cute little drabble that came to me randomly a couple days ago while I was taking a steaming-hot bath. Enjoy the cuteness!

Gaz stood in front of the bathroom sink, eyes fixed intently on the mirror as he carefully shaved his face. 

The warmth of your bath enveloped you, drawing the tension from your body with ease. Laying your head back against the bathtub wall, you lazily eyed Kyle as he worked, shirtless and clad only in workout shorts. His muscles moved and worked as he lifted his arm to reach the side of his beard, a sight you never seemed to get tired of.

“Ever feel like you’re bein’ watched, babe?” He teased as he stretched his neck to the side, his eyes darting to you mischievously for only a second before he returned his focus to the mirror.

You laughed, readjusting your legs in the water. “I’m not ashamed, I like the view.”

With one last swipe, he finally finished. He laid the razor back on the counter before turning to you with a smirk. As his eyes slid up and down your naked form, he countered, “Oh, I bet I like my view more.”

“Wanna join me?”

An amused eyebrow of his shot up, like your idea was ludicrous. With two strides he was at the edge of the tub. He bent down and put a finger in to test the water as cautiously as he could. As soon as the tip of his finger brushed the surface of the water, he was yanking his hand away. 

“As much as I’d love to join you in the ninth circle of hell, sweetheart,” he said, “I don’t think I could even dip my toes in there, let alone my whole body.”

You gave him an incredulous laugh. “The ninth circle of hell?”

“Baby, your baths and showers put volcanoes to shame. I’d love to join you, but I just don’t think I’d make it out of there alive.”

The bath water moved with your laughter. As you playfully flicked cooled-off droplets of water at him with your fingers, you asked, “And you would rather I take my baths and showers in the Arctic like you do?”

He rolled his eyes, a playful smile on his mouth. “So dramatic,” he groaned. “My water isn’t even that cold when I’m home. You should see how cold the showers are when I’m at work.”

“You might as well just have an ice bath at that point. That sounds like torture, Kyle.”

He shrugged. “It’s all about perspective, babe. Your tub of boiling water seems more like torture to me.”

You leaned forward, taking his hand with your wet one — not that Kyle seemed to care. “How about I get out of here, get dried off, and then we can go lay on the couch together? That sound like a better deal?”

He nodded, his brown eyes sweeping up and down your body again. “Yeah. Can’t promise I’ll let you make it to the couch, though…”

Smiling, you pulled the stopper to let the water out. 

[redhalmao]

Headcanon: Tim checks Bernard's pulse, a lot.

Bernard knows that he was not supposed to notice, but he can't help himself.

Tim checks his pulse. Like a worrying number of times.

Although the action in itself, Bernard shouldn't find it too alarming. It's Gotham for pete's sake, Bernard will proudly bark out laugh at you if you call yourself a Gotham native and NOT know how to CPR/check someone's pulse. It's just that Bernard feel like it's another small detail that cements the fact Tim is Red Robin. Tim's life was supposed to be a sunshine n' rainbows, dazzling, glamorous and fairly safe world of the rich or famous, but no one from that world should check a person's pulse with that much confidence and effectiveness. Tim checks Bernard's pulse like every fiber of his being was trained to.

Oh another thing that bothers Bernard is that Tim m typically checks Bernard's pulse when it's a quiet moment.

And those moments become the loudest that Bernard felt.

***

At the time, Bernard is too tired to move his study session back to his room. Add in the the combination of Tim's harsh lamp light glaring at him for the past 4 hours and lack of Monster drinks, his eyes deserves a much needed break. So, Bernard is just happy to accept his fate of laying down on Tim's very inviting soft couch.

Bernard soon loses himself to the fuzzy feeling of the boathouse that slightly rocks his body. His legs readjusts to the boats motion and Bernard hugs himself together to roll with the movement better. Bernard hummed at the moment he realizes that a storm must be coming and must be the one causing rocking.

Huh, Tim should really put some more rocker stoppers. Bernard curled farther into the couch at that thought.

Within a half of hour later, Bernard sleepily heard some commotion outside. Throughout the next hour, the boat slowly stopped rocking. Bernard curled towards the couch and it's pillows, silently mourning the lack of soothing rocking.

A window opens.

Rain comes in.

A couple of steps towards Bernard's self claimed study mess area.

A click of the lamp's switch being turned off.

A lot more steps.

A series of clicks and zips echos throughout the small boat.

A shower turns on.

After a good while, the shower turns off.

A wet towel has been dropped, rustle of clothing.

Steps going towards to the couch, to himself, Bernard.

Bernard is not delusional, he knew that there was a good chance that Tim would still be on that week long "business trip" a little bit longer than he did he would. That Bernard would have a lot better chance of seeing Tim in their favorite breakfast restaurant tomorrow than Tim surprising Bernard by crashing into study session in own boathouse at this afternoon.

But the buzzing feeling of Tim of brushing the back of his hair was so addictive that he couldn't help but thank his lucky stars that he was a bit impatient today.

As Tim sinks into the couch and curls into Bernard, the his brushing of Bernard's hair turns into his hand skimming to Bernard's neck.

Bernard had to stop himself to chuckling from the ticklish feeling, but he did let himself reply with a hum. Bernard reached and stuck the Tim's wandering hand on his neck and turned around.

"Hey"

"Hey, yourself."

And that's when Bernard felt it. Bernard knows that Tim's other hand was supposed to be comforting and distracting Bernard by brushing his hair, but the brush of his neck turned to a soft press. The distraction would have worked it if it weren't for the vulnerability of Tim's eyes, he would have missed it. The look in Tim's eyes, makes Bernard wrap his arms and legs around him.

"Are you okay?"

Bernard wants to laugh, of course Tim asks him as of he doesn't have the eyes of a veteran soldier that just relived through their personal hell.

"Yeah, are you okay?"

"Hmm, just stressing about the company."

Tim pulls away, as he does, his hand travels away from Bernard's neck and on to his face. He rubs little circles on Bernard's face. Tim smiles.

Bernard wants to cry.

[poledancingdinos]

A Chip Off The Old Block

Word count: 6636

Summary: Parker Syverson and his friends have planned what is supposed to be an unforgettable weekend in New York City to celebrate their high school graduation and their first steps into adulthood. Unfortunately for Parker, the universe seems to have planned a cruel reminder to be careful what you wish for.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Abuse of Authority, Hospitalization, Probable Medical and Police Inaccuracies, Implied/Referenced Sex, Past Violence, Past Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Wrongful Accusations

A/N: This is a sort of spin-off story to You've Got Me Hooked featuring Sy and Riley's son Parker. For the most part, this is original fiction except for the Sy cameo. I watch way too many police and medical drams so please forgive the major inaccuracies.

You've Got Me Hooked - Masterlist

Masterlist

“I don’t like it,” Sy grumbled as he handed Riley a large frying pan.

“So you’ve said,” she answered, drying the clean pan with a dish towel.

Less than thirty seconds went by before he spoke again. “I don’t fuckin’ like it, Ri.”

“I know. But he’s eighteen and legally an adult. ‘Not liking it’ is not a good enough reason to force him to stay home instead of going on a weekend trip with his friends.”

“Exactly, he’s eighteen.” Sy pulled the stopper out of the bottom of the sink, letting the soapy water drain with a whir as he began putting away the pile of clean dishes. “What the hell is there for an eighteen-year-old to do in New York other than get himself in trouble?” Sy paused, pointing a plastic spatula at Riley. “He’s not goin’ to fuckin’ art museums, I can tell ya that.”

Had their nicely renovated kitchen not had soft closing cabinets, Riley was sure each door would have been slamming as he worked.

“You know why he’s going. They have tickets to a show at Madison Square Garden.”

Sy scoffed, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, and he’s not gonna do any other stupid shit on his first weekend of freedom.”

Riley bit her lips, holding back a giggle. She was pretty sure he didn’t realize that he was pouting like a toddler and she was not going to make things worse by pointing it out. Even if she found it terribly cute coming from her big beefy husband.

Draping the towel over the handle of the stove, Riley stepped into Sy’s space and clasped her hands around his neck. His arms automatically found their way around her waist, holding her against him as he met her gaze.

“It hurts me too, you know. Seeing our boy all grown up. But he’s going to college in the fall, we gotta let him go sooner or later.”

“I vote later.”

Riley gave Sy a fond smile, raking her fingers through the greying hair at his nape and pulling him down for a soft kiss. Her attempt at distraction was interrupted by a voice calling her name from the top of the stairs.

“Mama! What happened to the laundry I put in the dryer?”

“Legally an adult but he’s still askin’ his mama where to find clean underwear,” Sy muttered under his breath.

Riley pinched Sy’s side, escaping his hold to go retrieve the laundry she’d been folding up in their bedroom.

When Sy had mentioned to Jared—read ranted—that Parker was going off to New York unsupervised, Jared had suggested none too subtly that he and Riley should take the weekend to catch up on some adult fun of their own. He’d originally flipped Jared off and told him they didn’t have any catching up to do but he was beginning to think maybe his best friend knew from experience that staying distracted was the best way to survive the weekend without worrying himself into a heart attack.

Following the flow of the crowds, Parker and Sadie made their way through the stadium corridors. Their friends had been practically vibrating with excitement in the hotel room and had left first with the promise that the couple would be right behind them but one thing had led to another and they arrived only in time for the first act rather than the opening of the doors.

“Parker! Have a beer man.”

When they reached the others, a plastic cup was extended towards Parker but he didn’t take it.

“Na, I’m good. Let’s go inside.”

There were security guards everywhere and though they likely had better things to worry about than verify that the concession workers had checked everyone’s ID, Parker was not inclined to risk getting kicked out for what looked like warm, flat beer.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be a pussy.”

“If not needin’ beer to have fun makes me a pussy then I’ll accept the title any day.”

Parker put his arm around his girlfriend, pulling her closer into his side. He didn’t like being called a small town boy but he sure felt like one at that moment. His father had been taking him to football games since he was a kid but somehow it felt different when the average age of the crowd seemed to have been slashed in half. The show hadn’t even started and people were already stumbling around.

“I’ll take it.”

Snatching the cup, Sadie brought it to her lips and chugged.

“Woah, are ya sure you should be doin’ that?” Parker asked but made no move to physically stop her.

“We don’t have time to sit and chat,” she answered, tossing the empty cup in a nearby trash can. “We need to get out there before the floor is completely full and we’re stuck at the back.”

After pushing their way closer to the front, they spent the rest of the night singing and dancing along with the music. The girls made friends with a group of locals who invited them all to an afterparty at a nearby hotel. Apparently the hotel was owned by one of their father’s and they had access to an entire suite.

Once again, Parker felt out of his depth. Only people in movies had parents who owned entire hotel chains and allowed their kids to throw parties in penthouse suites. Right?

Wrong.

As it turned out, The Suite Life was indeed a reality for some. He’d googled it on the way over. The suite was five-thousand square feet, had eighteen foot windows and a damn gym but only three beds. What was the point of such a big place if it couldn’t host more than six people? Flex how rich you were to as many temporary guests as possible apparently.

The private elevator to the suite opened to reveal that the after party was already in full swing.

“Oh. My. God.”

“This place is amazing! Holy shiet!”

Sadie dragged Parker out into the throng of people, the others following close behind.

“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. If you’re looking for something stronger, I’d check the gym. That’s usually where the boys like to set up their pharmacy.”

Parker looked around the suite in stunned silence. There was what appeared to be a reading nook on the second floor where a DJ booth had been set up with some lights, giving the whole place the same rave-like vibe as the concert venue had had.

Following the others to the kitchen, Parker kept a tight hold on his girl’s hand. By his side, he noticed Will doing the same. There was a bowl of punch on the counter as well as an open bottle of champagne but he led Sadie to the fridge instead.

Their options were limited to bottles of soda, beer and a few cans of malt beverages. Not trusting that the plastic bottles hadn’t been tampered with, he lifted up a can of beer and a hard lemonade. Sadie chose the hard lemonade, while Will declined both and Laura took the beer. As the girls toasted their weekend away, Parker pulled Will closer.

“We give ‘em an hour then we’re out of here.”

“Agreed.”

Once the girls finished their drinks, they all went to the makeshift dance floor. Sadie wiggled her hips to the beat as she walked ahead of Parker. Tugging on her hand, he spun her around before plastering his chest against her back. With his girl pressed against him and a bright smile on her face, Parker was able to let go and enjoy himself.

Parker’s dancing skills had scored him a lot of points with the girls throughout his high school years. He had no formal training or anything but his mother often danced around the house as she did chores which had led to him copying her almost as soon as he could walk. On more than one occasion, he’d watched as his father joined her, admiring the way it always made his mother light up.

Growing up with parents who weren’t shy about PDA was the bane of his existence as a child. Then when he met Sadie, well, he suddenly understood everything. He understood not wanting to let her go for even a second. He understood wanting to kiss her any time, any place just because. He understood agreeing to absolutely anything that would make her happy.

When Rob and Pete found their way back a little while later, their eyes much redder than when they had wandered off, Parker and Will announced that it was time to call it a night. Getting everyone into the elevator felt a little like herding cats but they eventually made it down to the lobby.

“Let’s go get pizza!” Pete exclaimed, way too loud, already pulling his phone out to find a restaurant.

“Bro,” Parker groaned, “I just wanna get back to our hotel.”

Their reasonably priced hotel—well, as reasonable as you can find in Manhattan—that didn’t have crystal chandeliers, massive penthouse suites or doormen dressed like Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez.

They’d had a late night in their hotel room then had gotten up only a few hours after to take advantage of the continental breakfast before it was too late. He was more than ready to sleep off all the excitement of the evening.

His objection, however, fell on deaf ears. The mere mention of pizza turned his hungry friends into a bunch of squawking seagulls. He had no desire to make yet another pit stop but if he insisted that they all go back now they would only escalate from squawking to pecking and before he knew it they would be sneaking out to satisfy their munchies anyway.

“I’m with Parker on this one, guys,” Sadie admitted, stifling a yawn. That was enough to make up Parker’s mind.

“We’ll meet ya back there,” he announced. Will was more than capable of keeping the guys in line. Besides, once they ate their weight in pizza, they would more than likely just fall asleep on the ride back.

“Suit yourself,” Pete said with a shrug, suggesting a place a short walk away and leading the others outside like a man on a mission.

Parker got to work looking up the best way to get back to their hotel. Turning to Sadie, he opened his mouth to read out their options but closed it again with a frown when he noticed how pale she was.

“Babe, you okay?” he asked, pushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

She closed her eyes, swallowing once before nodding. “I think I just got too hot in there.”

If she was feeling hot the twenty-minute bus ride back was not going to be of any help. 

“You wanna just walk?” Parker looked down at his phone again. It would only take five minutes more and they would be walking along the bus route if she happened to feel better along the way.

“Yeah, I think I need the fresh air.”

As soon as the cool breeze hit her overheated skin, Sadie let out a small sigh.

“Better?”

“Much.”

They’d only made it one block before Parker started to get worried again. Sadie was quiet, leaning more and more of her weight on him. It wasn’t until she tripped over her own feet and narrowly avoided face-planting onto the sidewalk that he knew with one-hundred percent certainty that something was amiss.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

“I—” she wobbled, leaning against the nearby building for support. “I think m’gonna be sick.”

She bent over at the waist, retching a few times but only coughed up a bit of bile. As far as Parker was aware, she’d only had two drinks the entire evening and it had been several hours since their pre-concert meal.

When he pulled her hair away from her face, Sadie’s skin was clammy yet cool to the touch which made Parker think that maybe she was more than just a little overheated. Looking around, he spotted a bodega at the corner.

“Can ya walk?” He needed to get Sadie a bottle of water or a sport’s drink but he was not going to just let her wait on the street.

She lifted her unfocused gaze towards his, trying to take a step only to stumble again. Parker bent down, slipping an arm around her waist and supporting her weight as they slowly made their way forward. They were a few feet from the door when two policemen exited the shop, stopping short as they saw them.

“Miss, are you okay?”

“I dunno what’s goin’ on, she just started feelin’ sick all of the sudden.”

The two cops exchanged a glance and one of them gave a barely there nod before calling for an ambulance on his radio.

“Miss, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Sadie opened her mouth as if to answer but before she could say anything, her legs gave out from under her.

“Sadie!”

Both cops lunged forward, helping catch her weight and lowering her onto the ground. They called her name but she was out cold. One of the men lowered his head, checking for signs that she was still breathing.

Parker was frozen in place, holding her hand and not knowing what to do when he heard the whoop-whoop of sirens as an ambulance pulled up to the curb.

“She lost consciousness right in front of us. Heart rate and breathing are present but slow.”

The paramedics knelt by her side, checking her vitals as the cops recited what they knew.

“Kid, you with her?”

Parker snapped out of his trance, looking at the paramedic who’d asked him the question.

“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?” he asked, putting a blood pressure cuff on one arm and heart rate monitor on her other hand.

“Sadie.”

“What did Sadie take?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to him,” one of the cops snapped. “It’s past one in the morning and she’s stumbling down the street. What did she take?”

“Nothing, I swear.” He was fairly sure that two beers over six hours wouldn’t cause whatever was going on and he didn’t want Sadie to get in trouble.

Parker was forced to let go of her hand and step back as the paramedics lifted Sadie onto a gurney.

“We can waste our time running blood tests at the hospital to figure out what she took or you can help her out by telling us now.”

“She didn’t take anything! We— We were walkin’ back to the hotel. She said she wanted fresh air. I think she got dehydrated and overheated.”

As they began rolling Sadie to the ambulance, Parker automatically followed but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Woah, you’re not going anywhere.”

“What? No, I have to go with her!”

“It’s okay,” the paramedic said to the cop. “We’re taking her to Saint-Thomas. Maybe the ride will jog his memory.”

The entire drive was a blur. Sadie didn’t wake up but the paramedic mostly seemed to be monitoring her rather than scrambling to treat her so that had to be a good sign. He asked Parker again about Sadie taking any drugs but when Parker told him that she’d had two drinks at most he seemed to finally believe his answer and put in an IV to give her fluids.

Once at the hospital, he was forced to stay in the waiting room while the doctors took Sadie back. The cops had followed the ambulance and took a moment to speak to the paramedics after they handed Sadie off to the ER team. Two more cops, a man and a woman, joined them shortly after going straight towards the information desk.

“We have a few more questions for you.”

Parker lifted his head from his hands, straightening up in his chair.

“I don’t know anything more than I did before.”

Both men stood in front of him, one with his hands on his belt and the other holding a notepad and a pen.

“Let’s start with your name,” the cop on his right said, ignoring Parker’s statement.

“Parker.”

“Your full name,” the one on his left barked.

“Parker Maddox Syverson.”

“How old are you?”

Parker continued to answer irrelevant questions until the other two cops came his way, along with a nurse. For a second he thought he was going to get news on Sadie’s condition but that hope was soon shattered.

“Sir, I need you to come with me.”

“What happened? Did she wake up?”

“We need to take you back to draw some blood.” 

“I don’t understand…” Did they think that drawing his blood was going to help them find out what was wrong with Sadie?

“You don’t have to understand,” the man Parker was now thinking of as ‘bad cop’ said. “Suspicion of internal possession, you don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Parker looked between the nurse and the wall of police officers.

“It means you smell like a distillery and you’re not twenty-one. You’re looking at charges for minor-in-possession.”

With four cops staring back at him, Parker didn’t argue. He had no idea if any of what they said was true or if he was really obligated to give a blood sample but at least he knew the results would be zero.

‘Good cop’ and ‘bad cop’ followed him into the area where the nurse made him sit. His heart raced as she wrapped a band around his arm and disinfected the skin at the crook of his elbow. There was a pinch as she inserted the needle and within thirty seconds she was taping a cotton ball over the microscopic wound.

“Make sure we get a copy over at the PD when it’s in. His and Miss Wilson’s.”

Realizing that the others were probably back at the hotel by now and wondering where they were, Parker looked around for a pay phone. There were signs all over the waiting room indicating that they weren’t supposed to use their cells so he made his way towards the exit only to be stopped by ‘good cop’ standing by the door.

“Going somewhere?”

“I just need to make a call.”

“It can wait.”

“Look,” Parker snapped, finally losing his patience, “our friends are probably wonderin’ where we are. I just need to let ‘em know where we are and what’s goin’ on.”

“You’ll get to make a phone call once we get to the station,” said a voice from behind him. Parker turned to find ‘bad cop’ glaring at him. Not that he’d really stopped glaring since he first saw Parker. “Preliminary tox was positive for roofies. They’ll do a full panel on her blood.”

“What? No, that can’t be right.”

“Mmh hmm. Save it.”

And just like that, a set of handcuffs was being snapped around his wrists and his rights were being recited. All he could think as he was led to the car was that maybe his dad had been right. There was nothing for him to do in NYC other than get in trouble.

Arthur was not accustomed to getting middle of the night phone calls so when his cell rang at three in the morning, he scrambled to find it before the voicemail picked up.

“H’llo?” He cleared his throat, trying to sound more awake than he felt. “Hello?”

“Uncle Arthur?”

The moniker caught his attention immediately, causing him to sit up.

“Parker?”

“I think I’m in trouble.”

With an order not to say another word until he got to the station, Arthur hung up and dug through his closet for a suit. He was by no means well versed in criminal defense but he was going to fake it long enough to get all the facts and that included looking the part.

“Honey?” Arthur turned towards his wife while he finished adjusting his belt. “Where are you going?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I need to go help my nephew,” he informed her, taking the jacket off the hanger and slipping it on.

Rolling over, she readjusted her pillow. “Parker?”

“Yeah,” he placed a kiss on her cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’ll call when I know something.”

Arthur had kept in touch with his sister over the years but they hadn’t spent much time together. He’d only seen Parker once every two years or so but he’d made a promise when Parker was born and he was not going to turn his back on him the one and only time he’d asked for help.

Once in his car, he called the police station back and informed them that he was on his way. With a nearly hour-long drive ahead of him, Arthur didn’t want them getting impatient and going back in to see if Parker had changed his mind about waiting for a lawyer before answering any questions.

He found his nephew in an interview room, elbows resting on the table and his head in his hands. The sound of the door opening didn’t elicit any reaction and, for a moment, Arthur wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

“Parker?”

His head jerked up, obvious relief flashing across his face. He had dark circles under his eyes which were red-rimmed and brimming with tears.

“They won’t tell me if she’s okay.”

It was very telling of Parker’s character that his first question was about Sadie and not about the fact that he was currently sitting in an interrogation room. Unfortunately, Arthur didn’t have any information about her condition other than the few pieces of information that were relevant to the current investigation.

Arthur sat in the chair by Parker’s side. “I’d say that, in this case, no news is good news.”

He didn’t need to know that, if her condition had deteriorated, the accusations would be much worse.

“What have you told them?”

Once Arthur was brought up to speed, the detective joined them in the interview room.

“Didn’t take you long to get a lawyer,” he said, dropping a file on the table. “Surprising considering you’re from out of state.”

“Can we focus on clearing my client of these absurd accusations?”

He was not going to let the detective get Parker riled up. Being scared and tired was already a bad combo for an interrogation, he was not planning to add angry and frustrated into the mix.

“How do you know Sadie Wilson?”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Arthur answered.

“So you knew her before tonight?”

“Yes, he did.”

The detective shot an annoyed glance at Arthur, opening the file and sliding a plastic evidence bag across the table.

“Why did you have her ID and debit card in your pocket?”

Parker whispered the answer to Arthur who relayed it to the detective. “They went to a concert at Madison Square Garden. Sadie didn’t want to carry a bag or wallet around so she asked my client to keep them.”

“She couldn’t carry two little cards on her own?”

“Her dress didn’t have pockets,” Parker said, thankfully keeping his words to the minimum.

“Seems to me like the sort of thing you would do when you’re trying to hide a victim’s identity. Or take away their means of getting away.”

Or, if they used a little bit of common sense instead of trying to provoke a reaction, they would notice that the driver’s license clearly indicated that she was from Georgia and that it would be highly unlikely for Parker to just stumble on a potential victim who also happens to be from his home state.

The detective asked another series of questions about the evening, starting from when they arrived at the arena. Eventually, Arthur was able to have him stop questioning Parker and Sadie’s relationship by telling him to look through Parker’s phone. His partner, who must have been watching from outside, brought the phone in to have Parker unlock it.

After scrolling through Parker’s Instagram, which included a few short videos from the concert that, thankfully, did not feature any alcohol being consumed, they moved on to the latter part of the evening.

“Did Sadie have anything to drink at the party?”

“She had a can of something from the fridge when they first arrived. My client did not see her have any other food or drinks.”

“See, that’s where things don’t make sense.” The detective leaned forward on the table with a smug expression that clearly indicated he thought he had the upper hand. “Roofies start acting fast. By your own admission, you were with her all night. You’re saying you didn’t see her get drugged minutes before you left the party together. Makes me think that’s because you’re the one who drugged her.”

“Was there a question somewhere in there? Because all I’m hearing is a bunch of speculation and twisting of facts to fit whatever narrative you’re convinced has happened.”

“You drugged her didn’t you?” the other detective pressed.

“No, I—”

“Parker, don’t answer that.”

“Either it was you,” he continued, ignoring Arthur’s protests, “or you saw who did it which makes you complicit. Tell us the truth.”

“I went to the bathroom!” Parker snapped, slamming his fist down on the table before he could stop himself. “It was just before we left but she was with four of our friends.” He looked at each of the detectives then at his uncle. “I thought she would be safe. I was worried as soon as we saw how big the party was but I didn’t want the girls to be disappointed so I figured we’d give it an hour then go back to the hotel. I held her hand the whole time, I never took my eyes off her, the drink she had was from a sealed can.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice coming out in a whisper. “I did everything I could think of.”

It killed Arthur that he couldn’t so much as put his hand on Parker’s shoulder as a small comfort. By the looks on the detectives’ faces, he didn’t think they would appreciate such a gesture.

“This is an unfortunate incident but my client is not to blame for it. Considering the lack of evidence, there’s no reason to detain him any further and keep him from going to his girlfriend’s bedside.”

“We are not going to release him. There’s still the matter of minor-in-possession.”

“My client didn’t consume any alcohol.”

“We’ll see when we get the results back won’t we.”

“Or you could have him take a breathalyzer which would give you the same result in seconds instead of hours and release him right now.”

It took another hour before they reluctantly released Parker without any charges. With a blood alcohol count of zero and no drugs or alcohol found on or around him, there was not a single shred of evidence for them to cling to. They hadn’t actually placed him under arrest, only detained him, so it was simply a question of returning his belongings before walking out as a free man.

“I’m sure you want to get back to the hospital but I think you need a shower first.”

There was no argument there. He stank of stale beer and sweat and he was pretty sure his wavy hair looked crazy from running his hands through it all night.

While they drove, Parker charged his phone and returned the numerous missed calls from Will. To his surprise, he’d actually stayed up waiting for them to get back and answered on the first ring. He was relieved to know that the others were all okay and had gotten back safely. Until then, he hadn’t actually considered that maybe one of them had been drugged too.

After the fastest shower in history, Arthur helped pack up their luggage. They didn’t know what they were going to find once they got to the hospital and it was best if they didn’t have to rush back to vacate the room in time for checkout.

“Do you know which hospital she was taken to?” Arthur asked when they got back in the car.

“Saint-Thomas.”

Arthur nodded, putting the car in drive and pulling onto the road. Of course, this was New York so they stopped only a few seconds later. Beside him, Parker was nervously tapping his fingers on the door. The longer they stayed still, the louder tapping became.

“Saint-Thomas is where you were born,” Arthur remarked, breaking the relative silence but didn’t get so much as a glance in return.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You didn’t know that?”

“I mean,” Parker shrugged, “I knew I was born in New York but I didn’t know which hospital.”

That made sense. People rarely talked about which hospital they were born in. Especially when that hospital was out of state. It wasn’t exactly a thrilling topic of conversation but it was the first thing that had come to mind.

“Your dad looked about ready to gut me that day.”

That made his nephew’s hand freeze.

“Wait, you were there?”

Neither of his parents had ever mentioned that piece of information. Although, Parker didn’t exactly ask follow up questions when his birth story was brought up. All he knew was that his mother narrowly avoided a C-section and would likely have had one if he hadn’t been so early. Still, he knew his mother didn’t speak to his grandparents and he only had a handful of memories of Arthur which made this discovery all the more unexpected.

“Total fluke,” Arthur said honestly. “I was there for work and was on my way out when I heard a baby start to cry. You can imagine my surprise when I looked up to find my sister holding a not-so-tiny baby in her arms. I hadn’t seen her in years at that point so Sy had no idea who I was. He just came back to the room, saw Riley in tears and instantly went into protective mode.”

“Yeah, he does that.”

“By the sounds of it, so do you.” Arthur looked over at Parker, wanting him to see the sincerity in his eyes. “Sometimes, you do everything right and bad things still happen. You did everything you possibly could to keep her safe short of dragging her into the bathroom with you. She’ll come out of this with a nasty hangover, maybe a bit of trauma or anxiety but your actions tonight kept it from getting worse.”

“I didn’t do shit. The timing of us leaving right after she got roofied was just a coincidence.”

“Maybe, but you were completely sober. Your focus was on taking care of her and making sure she had a good time. I don’t want to think how things could have turned out if you’d been too drunk to notice something was wrong.”

They were silent for the rest of the ride as Parker stared out the window. When they finally made it to the hospital, Parker was afraid they wouldn’t let him see Sadie because he wasn’t technically family. As it turned out, it was the officers standing guard that he had to worry about. Even after confirming he’d been released without charges, they hadn’t wanted to let him see Sadie without an officer present but the head nurse told them that they were to remain in the waiting room until they were called.

It seemed that Sadie had woken up asking for Parker and refused to comply with the officers or nurses until she knew where he was. When she learned he’d been taken into custody, she made it clear that she would only speak to her doctors privately and would not agree to any tests that were requested by the police.

Apparently the officers had tried to convince the hospital staff to do a rape kit while she was still unconscious and they had told them in no uncertain terms that there was no urgency to do so without obtaining prior consent. After that the nurses had been extra vigilant and were more than happy to run interference whenever they tried to speak to her alone.

As soon as the head nurse led him behind the curtain surrounding her bed, Sadie sat up, opening her arms for a hug which he gladly provided.

“I’m so sorry!”

“What? No! I should be the one apologizin’ to you.”

“You got arrested because of me,” she sobbed into his neck. “I told ‘em. I told the doctors that ya didn’t do anything. It was my fault. When we were gettin’ ready to leave, someone offered us another drink but Will said no for all of us. One of the guys made a joke about him bein’ the fun police and snuck me a shot while he wasn’t lookin’. I didn’t even think.”

After a lot of apologizing from both sides, the doctor came back and did another check of Sadie’s vitals. Luckily, other than some fluids and a safe place to rest, Sadie hadn’t needed any medical treatments and was ready to be released. The doctor said that she had been dehydrated which had likely made her initial reaction to the roofies more severe but that vomiting so soon after ingestion had prevented her from fully absorbing the drug.

The officers did try one last time to ask Sadie a few questions but Arthur simply handed over a business card and told them that if they chose to further continue their investigation, any communications should go through him. 

Parker had feared that they would try to charge Sadie with the same minor-in-possession charges as they had for him but Arthur seemed to think they wouldn’t due to the ‘good samaritan’ laws. Apparently, if you called 9-1-1 to seek help for yourself or someone else in the event of an overdose, that law protected you from being charged with possession. Even for minors who consumed alcohol. One exception to the law as intentional harm which would have applied to Parker if he had really been the one to drug Sadie.

The rest of the day was spent with Arthur and his family. After a round of hugs from their friends, Sadie said she wasn’t feeling up for their planned day of sightseeing so they agreed to instead meet at the airport before their flight home.

His aunt had insisted on making the couple a big spread for brunch which they eagerly accepted. Though they’d both been hungry, Sadie had seemed a little concerned about getting anything from the hotel’s continental breakfast before they drove out to the suburbs.

The previous night’s events were an experience that neither of them was going to forget about any time soon.

When Parker made it home after dropping Sadie off, his father was outside working on his mama’s car. If he knew anything about the man, his choice to do car maintenance at ten pm was deliberate. He either wanted to know the second Parker got home or he was hoping to have a word just the two of them.

They’d had to call Sadie’s parents before leaving the hospital since she was on their insurance but Parker had been hoping to avoid telling his parents anything until he was home to explain in person. It seemed someone had ruined that plan and given them a heads up. His money was on his uncle Arthur.

Knowing there was no point in trying to put off his suffering, Parker got out of the car and walked straight towards his father.

“Hi Pop.”

Sy didn’t move from where he was bent over the motor. “Hey kid. Hand me that wrench will ya?”

Having worked on cars since he was old enough to see over the hood on a step stool, he didn’t need to ask which tool his father was referring to. As he handed over the wrench, Parker tried to read his expression but the ex-military captain’s face was decidedly blank.

“Are ya mad?”

“What do ya think I’ve got to be mad about?”

There was no way that was a serious question. Surely this had to be the lead up to some sort of ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ speech.

“Doin’ the exact opposite of everything ya wanted me to do?” His answer came out with more snark than he’d intended but his father seemed to give him a pass on the attitude and remained annoyingly cool.

“And what exactly would that be?”

“I dunno, gettin’ arrested, havin’ to call Uncle Arthur to bail me out, Sadie endin’ up in the hospital… You didn’t even want me to go in the first place.”

His father gave a slow nod, glancing over at Parker with a raised eyebrow. “Did any of that happen ‘cause you were doin’ something wrong?”

“I—”

He’d been about to say yes and list exactly which of his father’s life lessons he’d broken but he couldn’t actually think of one. It wasn’t like he was prohibited from going to parties, his parents just didn’t want him drinking under age which he hadn’t done. And he hadn’t done anything to merit getting arrested, that had just sort of happened as a consequence of Sadie being drugged.

“I guess not,” he mumbled, his gaze falling to the ground.

Sy closed the hood with a slam, grabbing a rag to clean off his hands.

“Before me and your mama started datin’, back when we were just livin’ together, she had a close call with some guy lookin’ to take advantage.”

Parker looked up, worry evident in his eyes. “What do you mean by close call?”

This was the first Parker had ever heard about his mother being in harm’s way. They’d never told him about Riley’s old job or the events that transpired right before she and Sy got together. Though he still didn’t need to know the details, Sy felt that sharing at least some of it would help break through the black cloud that currently hung over his son.

“The guy knocked her around but she got away before he could do anything else.”

Sy’s jaw clenched as he remembered finding Riley in her car, half naked with a fresh bruise forming on her cheek. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. It was a good thing he’d never bumped into that fucker on the street.

“I can’t tell ya how many times I wondered what might have happened if I’d done something differently. Wondered if it was somehow my fault that she took the job that put her in that guy’s sights or that I should have been there to protect her.”

Sy shot Parker a look that was clearly meant to say ‘sound familiar’.

“That guilt you’re feelin’, it ain’t yours to carry. You didn’t do this to her.”

Parker swallowed the lump in his throat, willing himself not to break down in front of the man who’d raised him even when he took a step forward and held him by his nape the way he used to when he was a child.

“This wasn’t your fault, son. I know it. Your mama knows it. Sadie’s parents know it. I just hope you start believin’ it sooner rather than later ‘cause if all ya see every time ya look at her is what could have happened, neither of you are ever gonna be able to heal from it.”

Releasing a shaky sigh, Parker nodded in acceptance. His father pulled him into a tight hug before leading him inside where he received an even more bone-crushing embrace from his mother. He wasn’t going to complain. After the weekend he’d had, it was comforting to know he had the best family in the world.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren 2.0 #5

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: past dub/noncon

Silas paced in his room. 

As much as he hated solitude, he’d grown accustomed to it. Now that he had company, what was there to say?

He’d gotten what he wanted, but it didn’t help the emptiness inside him.

Typical. 

He stopped, sighing. Maybe… maybe he just needed some time. To get used to another person again; or maybe time for the pain of rejection to leave.

If it ever left.

Silas opened his door, bumping into Wren. 

Wren squeaked at the impact. He stepped back, his honey-brown eyes wild.

“Sorry,” Silas apologized. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Wren's expression shifted in a flash, from fear to a placid smile, but Silas could hear his frantic heartbeat.

“I should have watched where I was going,” he said, polite as always. “I’m sorry, Master.”

Wren was afraid of him.

Of course Wren was afraid of him; how could he expect anything different? He shouldn’t hope for anything good from the universe. Nothing ever panned out right.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Wren’s relief was nearly imperceptible, but it was there.

“What’re you up to?” Silas asked.

Wren tensed again, and Silas could have smacked himself. “I’m only curious,” he added.

“I- I was looking for a duster, Master. To clean with.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t think I have one. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Master, I’ll make do,” Wren said with a sunny smile. It didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Silas wondered how many smiles Wren had faked before. He was too good at it.

“You don’t have to clean for me.”

Wren shifted. “I’d be happy to,” he said. “I don’t mind, Master.”

Silas knew a losing battle when he saw one.

“Well, alright. You don’t need to call me ‘master’, though. Just Silas will do.”

“Yes, Master Silas,” replied Wren automatically.

Silas sighed internally, and went downstairs.

So much for bonding. How did people make friends?

Silas scanned the bookshelf, looking for something to read. 

Unfortunately, he had read all of his books many times, and he really didn’t feel like risking the streets for the bookstore. 

The library was outside his pitiful territory, and out of the question.

Silas worried his lip. Maybe he could send Wren to buy a book or two?

He glanced at the clock. Ten pm. The bookstore closed at nine.

It was just as well, really. He couldn’t afford to spend money so frivolously. Sure, the banks were as happy to service vampires as they were humans- money was money after all- but his pockets were not as deep as most of his kin. 

Wren alone was a sizable expense, and he had to buy food for him every week. Not to even mention furnishing the attic room. No new books for a while, then.

Silas grabbed a random title and sat in his armchair. He flipped to the first chapter, skimming the words.

Nothing jumped out at him; the plot couldn’t hold his attention. He had read it too many times.

Silas scrubbed a hand over his face. 

He missed his sired siblings, even though they disliked him. He missed games and chatter and jokes, even if he was mostly left out.

But most of all he missed Felix; the only other person in his nest that didn’t hate him.

If only things had been different.

Silas sighed, and stood to put the book away.

___________________

Wren finished dusting the top of the kitchen shelves. No one had cleaned up there in ages, and no wonder. He had to climb on top of the counter to get to it.

Wren wiped off the counters one more time, and admired his work.

The kitchen was sparkling from top to bottom. He’d even mopped the floor, despite the lack of a proper mop.

Luckily, he’d found some rags in the bathroom closet. It seemed a rather strange place to keep them, but it wasn’t his place to question his Master’s organization system.

Speaking of his Master, Silas hadn’t fed from him yet. Surely he was hungry.

Wren put the stopper in the sink and filled it with hot water. He left the rags to soak, and went looking for his owner.

___________________

Master Silas was in the living room, staring off into space. His hands were folded in front of him, and his legs were stretched out.

Wren hesitated.

“Are you alright, Master?”

Silas turned his head, his gray eyes landing on him. Master looked away after only a moment.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Wren hesitated. “You haven’t had breakfast,” he said.

“I’m not hungry. Just… bored.”

What did he mean? A vampire who wasn’t hungry? Laughable. Incomprehensible. Then again, who was Wren to question him?

Boredom, though, he could fix.

Wren didn’t particularly want to at the moment- he was probably covered in dust- but it was about time he did his duty for Master Silas.

“I could entertain you, Master,” he offered, keeping his voice as pleasant and agreeable as possible.

Silas looked at him again. Wren’s hands twitched at the hem of his shirt, waiting for the order to strip.

It didn’t come.

Silas stood up. He walked to the shelf, and pulled down a box.

Confusion and relief swirled through him. A game. Just a board game.

“Do you know how to play Carcassonne?”

“I can learn, Master.”

Silas set the box on the coffee table, and Wren inched forward. Master began to pull out the pieces, and Wren sat on the rug across from him.

One day, soon, Master Silas would take him to the bedroom and Wren would find out what kind of Master he was. What he liked, and how to really please him.

But for now, Master wanted him to play a game.

Wren tried to pay attention as Master Silas explained the rules, but a thought nagged at him.

Why didn’t Silas want to bed him? 

No one had ever turned him down before. He never really had to offer before, either. It was a given; understood that Wren was always available. No Master needed to be bored when he was around.

It had been three days and Silas showed no sign of interest.

No Master had ever waited so long. Some took him into the bedroom immediately, others waited until evening came. One in particular, the worst of them, had bent him over the nearest piece of furniture as soon as they had walked through the door. 

But three days? Unheard of.

Silas placed the first square, and Wren was struck with a horrifying thought.

Was something wrong with him?

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone

@paintedpigeon1 @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @fanastyfinder @extemporary-whump

@susiequaz12 @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @the-cyrulik @morning-star-whump @writereleaserepeat

@annablogsposts @tobiaslut @starfields08000 @ghost-whump @bitchaknso

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Partners in Crime 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, allusions to abuse including body-shaming, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker

Summary: you’re left reeling after your divorce but the chaos has only begun. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Wakey, wakey,” the voice draws you up from the sludge. You pry your eyelids apart and groan. 

You’re still nestled against Lee but you can see something past him, a fleshy blur. The man at your side squeezes you and rolls onto his back. He sighs and rubs his eyes. 

“You gonna sleep all day or we gonna get down to it?” Lloyd asks. 

You squeak as you spy his bare chest and stomach, blocking out the rest as you cover your face with your hand. Lee snarls and untangles from you as he sits up. “Goddamn, Hansen, put some fucking clothes on.” 

“Don’t be jealous,” Lloyd snickers. “You like the way it hangs?” 

“Piss off,” the slap of flesh makes you flinch and Lloyd yelps. 

“Damn it, that was too close,” he exclaims. 

“Next time I won’t miss,” Lee’s weight leaves the bed. “Cover up.” 

A huff and a rustle follow and you dare to peek out between your fingers. Lee comes back to you, in a tank and boxers, holding a fluffy pink robe open. “Come on, darling. We gotta get the day started.” 

Lloyd’s behind him in a black silk robe, smoothing his mustache with his fingers. He looks agitated with the bristly hairs. You sit up, quaking, unsure what else to do but what you’re told. You got too used to waking up alone and peaceful. Yet, you can’t say what’s worse, them or your ex. 

“We’ll get ya washed up and dressed, then we’ll sit down and eat,” Lee slings his arm across your shoulders. He seems even bigger than the day before. They both do. “How’s that sound?” 

“Good,” you eke out. What you know is that obedience is safe. Any sign of resistance only got you worse. 

He keeps you wrapped up and Lloyd grumbles as he leads you past, “we really gonna drag this out?” 

“We have a plan,” Lee insists. “You agreed. We wanna take care of her. Give her what she never had. Stop being a jerk.” 

“I’m not. I'm just saying. Rip the bandaid off,” Lloyd turns and follows. 

You look over your shoulder as he crosses his arms, his blue eyes sharp as he squints back at you. Of the two, he makes you more nervous. You know better than to trust in self-control, but Lee it a bit less scary. 

You turn your head straight and take in the hallway. The house is nice. The walls are half-panel, half floral. An old-fashioned sort of domesticity. The white trim is clean and elegant and the runner rug is delicate patterned in a complementary pattern. 

Lee turns you through a door with a crystal knob. You fold your hands together as he ushers you into the bathroom. The porcelain shine and the counter is the same ivory as the trim in the hallway.

There’s an oval mirror over the sink basin, a shelf of neatly folded towels in various sizes mounted on the wall. The bath mat is a blue rose, the walls a lighter shade of the same, and a clawfoot tub stands near the far wall.  

You take it all in. In any other circumstance, you would be in awe. You can only curl into yourself as you try to disappear. This can’t be real. These men can’t be either. 

“You go on, get yourself in,” Lee detaches and steps forward to twist on the faucet. He bends with a grunt to put the stopper in place. “Got everything you need. Soaps, salts, bombs.” 

Your eyes scan the shelf along the tub and all the colourful bottles, jars, and trays. You slowly come forward and peer down into the lapping water. Lee backs up as you sense Lloyd lingering behind. 

“Want me keep an eye on her?” Lloyd slithers. “Don’t want her to fall in.” 

“Go get her something to wear,” Lee commands. 

“No, you,” the other argues. 

“Don’t be ornery,” Lee rebukes. 

“No. You.” Lloyd repeats more tersely than before. 

There’s a sigh, “we’ll both go.” Lee insists. 

You stay as you are. You wait until the door shuts before you move. You look down at the silk night gown and the cool air sets prickles across your skin. There’s a click behind you. They’ve locked you in. As nice as they are trying to be, they don’t trust. You’re still their prisoner. 

You brace your head as you quiver. How could this happen to you? Why? How did they know who you are? How to find you? You don’t quite believe everything they’ve told you. They seem to know more about you than they should. 

Maybe it’s your ex-husband. He can’t torture you so he sent these two to do so. How cruel can he be? 

When the door opens again, you flinch. You rub your arms and shiver.

“Now, don’t let the thing overflow,” Lee chides. “Get in, honey.” 

Lloyd hums in agreement. You glance back at them. You want them to leave but you don’t think they will. You face the tub again and shudder. 

You close your eyes. You're back in the bedroom you once shared with your husband. Alone. You’re in a towel, sifting through your closet, looking for something to wear to his work thing. You unwrap the cotton from around you and hear a scoff. 

“Sixteen,” your husband’s voice crawls across the room as he appears in the doorway. “Sixteen dimples in your ass. Last time I counted, was only twelve.” 

Your eyes snap open as the balmy air roils over the tub. Your nose tingle hotly. The two strange men are going to see all your dimples and marks and scars. You know they did last night but you were too terrified to think about it. And this is different. It’s so bright in here. 

You scrunch the satin in your fists and lift it slowly. You sniffle as you unveil yourself to the room. To them. You tense and swoop the fabric over your head and drop it. You shake as you step forward and angle your leg over the edge of the tub. 

You try to ignore your audience and the gristly noises wafting from them. Are they disgusted by you? Disappointed? You turn and lower yourself into the hot water. Their silhouettes loom beside you. 

“Ain’t that nice?” Lee asks. “You just relax.” 

“Hard to relax fully-cocked,” Lloyd snickers. 

“Shut up,” Lee snaps and slaps his arm. “Get outta here.” 

“Stop telling me what to do.” 

“We’re both gonna leave her be,” Lee insists. You stare at the tiled wall, humiliated. The way they talk about you like you’re not there, like you’re a thing. “Let her get situated then we can get her settled in.” 

“You’re a fucking softie, Bodecker,” Lloyd sneers. 

“And you’re a pain in my ass,” he shoves the man back, “stop cussin' and come on.” 

[eekshade]

Cliché

Bucky Barnes x m!reader

Word Count: 1353

Warnings/Info: very cheesy!!, Bucky paid in advance, I wrote this while tired so it's not the best, this isn’t a au; Bucky just needed a job because hero business doesn’t pay well, very brief mentions to y/n having bad past relationships

Part One

It has been around a week since Bucky and y/n had first met, the two talked briefly through text, before Bucky asked y/n out for their first date. Bucky has now found himself standing in a small flower shop near y/n’s place unable to choose what kind of flowers to get for him. After a few minutes of an internal debate he finally settled on a warmly colored bouquet with a mixed variety of flowers (favoring carnations and baby’s breath), he left the store with enough time to enjoy his walk and properly plan what he was going to say.

Bucky arrived at y/n’s door a few minutes early giving him time to stress, he hadn’t really thought about how nervous he was until he had to actually knock on the door. Deciding to just get it over with, he raised his right arm and softly hit the door three times. Less than a moment had passed before the door swung open to reveal y/n in all of his glory, dressed in casual clothing but in a way one could tell he was done up; a smile across his face, that only grew at the sight of the flowers.

“Hi.” Bucky greeted with a smile, as he handed the other man the blossom.

“Hey.” Y/n replied as he quickly, but ever so gently took the flowers from Bucky and brought them into his home gesturing Bucky to follow. Bucky watched as y/n put a drain stopper into the sink, filling it up slightly as a way to turn it into a makeshift vase.

“You ready?” Y/n asked, as he for the second time, looked Bucky up and down.

“Yeah.” Bucky replied as he led the way toward the door.

The walk was fairly fast because the restaurant was only a few blocks from y/n’s house, it was a cute, small place, it was dimly lit, almost a cross between a bar and a cafe. Bucky’s nerves were going mad as he watched y/n for his reaction; his heart only beating faster when he saw the smile etched onto the younger's face. The waiter came over to sit them at a two person table near a window.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.” Y/n commented as Bucky pulled his chair out for him.

“Oh how polite of you!” Y/n dramatically swooned with a hand over his forehead, as he sat.

“I try, I try.” Bucky joked back, he walked over to his chair after he pushed y/n in.

Both men laugh as they look down at their respective menus, they quietly decide what they both want to order. Y/n put his menu down, to find Bucky quietly staring at him. Before Bucky could get embarrassed by it y/n started to talk.

“Well Bucky, you already know quite a bit about me, I feel it's only right you level it out.” Y/n emphasized this by gently nudging Bucky’s foot with his own.

“What do you wanna know?” Bucky responded with a shy smile, he wanted to be able to bond but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get into the thick of it yet.

“How about we start with what you do for work.” Y/n softly questioned.

“I do a lot of random freelancing, mostly manual labor, sometimes for the government, but that’s kind of rare.” Bucky responded truthfully, trying to not lie, while not really telling the whole truth; at least not yet.

“You like it?”

“It’s not fun by any means but it gets me by, not that I’m complaining.” Bucky added the last part hastily.

“Oh no no no, I definitely get that.” Y/n replied with widened eyes and a smirk.

The waiter walks up to the table to give them both water and to take their orders. Y/n ordered first, then Bucky, the waiter scribbling them both down onto his pocket notepad. The two men fall into a comfortable rhythm of y/n (remembering that Bucky said he prefers to have others lead the conservation) asking Bucky questions about his life and for his opinions of current events, which Bucky was mostly confused by, seeing as he didn’t really pay attention to pop culture.

They finished their meals and the waiter asked if either of them wanted a box, they both declined, after the waiter walked away Bucky asked y/n if he’s ready to leave.

“We haven’t paid the bill yet.” Y/n laughed in response.

“I already got that, don’t you worry.” Bucky replied while he stood and started walking over to y/n.

“Awe, thank you but you know you didn’t have to.” Y/n half heartedly scolded him.

“Of course I did?” Bucky became confused when he saw y/n’s amused expression, “I asked you out, so I paid. It’s common decency.” He added.

“Huh.” Y/n offhandedly shrugged while he stood from the chair Bucky had just pulled out for him.

“What.”

“Nothing, nothing, I’m just not used to that I suppose.” Y/n and Bucky were now leisurely walking out of the restaurant.

Bucky tilts his head and smiles warmly, “I think you have just been hangin’ around the wrong people.” Y/n laughs to show his agreement.

Bucky walks y/n back to his place, making some brief small talk during it but mostly remaining in a comfortable silence. Bucky walks y/n up to his door and they stop in front of it.

“I don’t know about you, but I had a really good time.” Bucky states in a jokingly over the top tone.

“Yeah me too,” Y/n unlocks his door but doesn’t open it, instead choosing to lean his back against the frame of the door, looking at Bucky who stood two feet away at best. “Thank you really for dinner, even though I was more than willing to help pay.” Y/n added on in an accusatory tone.

“You’re too pretty to be worrying about all of that doll.” Bucky replied as he took a step forward, a smirk that was displayed on his face quickly grew into a smile after seeing y/n’s face at the pet name.

“Doll, huh?” Y/n responded as coolly as he possibly could.

“Yeah, do you not like it?” The question was not necessary as both parties already knew the answer.

“No, no,” y/n paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, “It’s cute.”

“Good, that’s kind of what I was going for.” Bucky replied evenly and y/n could have sworn he saw him wink.

The two men both stood still, as they stared quietly at each other. Bucky was the first to move as he slowly took another step toward the younger man. Y/n pushed himself off of the door frame now breaking away from Bucky’s eyes to look at his slightly chapped lips. Bucky softly grabbed y/n’s jaw with one hand and his neck with the other, pulling him into an even softer kiss. It lasted less than a few seconds, Bucky pulling away in order to gauge y/n’s reaction. Y/n breathed out a small noise of disappointment before laughing awkwardly; a laugh so quiet that Bucky could barely hear it despite being only inches away from the other male. Bucky, now sure that what he was doing was alright with y/n he kissed him again this time showing a bit more confidence, while still keeping the softness of it all. The pair only stopped for the sake of breathing, Bucky deciding he didn’t want to do too much on day one, was the first to back up.

“See you soon?” Bucky’s voice was quiet and full of hope.

“Of course.” Y/n responded in the same demeanor, unable to hide his lovesick smile.

“Bye, doll.” Bucky leaned forward and gave y/n a quick kiss on his temple before turning and walking away from the door, y/n watched for a small moment before finally going back into his own home.

| MARVEL MASTERLIST |

[princeloww]

Is it true that British people put all their dirty dishes in the sink after putting the stopper in and don't rinse them afterwards.

Asking as an Asian who hears a lot of funny rumours about British people.

umm the way its done kind of depends on the person/family? A lot of people would use a basin, so they fill it with hot water and washing up liquid and then wash in that (inside of the sink, but pour it out after)

But a lot would clean the actual sink, put the plug in, and fill it with hot water + fairy liquid (or whatever brand) and then just wash the dishes (with a sponge or cloth) like that, if that's what you mean?? And then you dry everything on the draining board and then wipe everything down

unless you're rich and have a dish washer. also i am irish forgive me if there's some kind of weird english dish washing ritual I haven't heard of

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 24: "I'm doing this because I care about you" / Victim Blaming

@febuwhump prompt: "I'm doing this because I care about you" @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Victim Blaming

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Cadet Crosshair, Cadet Hunter, Cadet Wrecker, Cadet Tech Cadet Batch as featured in my WIP fic 'Pieces of the People We Love' - haven't read it? All you need to know is that Crosshair is the oldest, and Hunter is the youngest! Word Count: ~1725 Click here to read on AO3

Synopsis: Crosshair is severe and unyielding when it comes to dealing with a headlice infestation.

“Headlice treatment,” Tech read from the bottle’s label. “To be applied weekly until infestation is cleared.”

Wrecker grinned broadly, leaning back and linking his hands behind his head. Cropping his hair back to his scalp had some advantages.

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” said Crosshair, scowling as he caught himself itching his nape and forcing his hand back down to his side. “So what do you do? Just… use it like soap?”

“It is a little more complex than that,” said Tech, turning the bottle over. “The lotion has to be left on the hair to act, followed by a thorough fine combing to remove as many lice and eggs as possible.”

“You got eggs in your hair?” sniggered Wrecker. Crosshair punched him in the shoulder to shut him up.

Hunter took the bottle from Tech’s hands, reading the label for himself. “Do you… d’you have to do the combing step?” he asked with an apprehensive grimace.

“Yes,” said Tech firmly, snatching the bottle back. “And if you would comb your hair daily then it wouldn’t seem like such an ordeal to get the tangles out.”

Crosshair threw an arm round Hunter’s shoulders, ruffling his hair and feeling his fingers catch in the knots. “He’s right,” he said with a merciless grin. “This is going to be agony.”

Hunter moaned and clamped his hands to his head, shielding his matted hair. Wrecker bellowed a laugh at the distressed look on the youngest’s face.

“Let’s start with your hair, Hunter, since it’s likely to take the longest,” sighed Tech, eyeing Hunter’s shoulder-length locks. “At least Crosshair and I should have an easier time of the treatment.”

Hunter reluctantly allowed himself to be guided to the freshers, stripped to his waist and with a towel thrown round his shoulders.

“The lotion is to be applied directly to the scalp and left to saturate the roots,” explained Tech, cracking the seal on the bottle and twisting off the lid.

The pungent chemical scent hit all of them. Tech covered his mouth and Crosshair wrinkled his nose in disgust – even Wrecker, leaning in the doorway, wafted a hand in front of his face in objection.

Hunter paled under his tanned skin. Then he was shoving past his brothers, promptly emptying his stomach into the basin.

“Hunter!” and “Eugh!” and “Gross!” echoed simultaneously from the three other enhanced cadets. Tech quickly stoppered the bottle, although the acrid fumes lingered in the small fresher room, mingling with the stale smell of Hunter’s vomit.

The dark lineart of his tattoo stood out against Hunter’s pallor as he turned back to face the others, wide-eyed panic painted on his face. “You can’t put that stuff on my hair,” he pleaded, pointing shakily at the offending bottle. “You can’t. The smell will kill me!”

“Stop being so dramatic,” scolded Tech, although he backpedalled towards Wrecker and the door as a sympathetic wave of nausea made him gag. “We all have to have the treatment. Otherwise Crosshair and I will continue to catch headlice from you, even if we clear our own infestations.”

Crosshair chucked a towel at Hunter. “Clean the sink, then meet us back out here,” he said, eyes narrowed in a familiar glare. “I’ll think of something.”

--

Twenty minutes later Hunter slunk out of the fresher and back into the bunk room, his colour looking a little better.

Crosshair, Tech and Wrecker quickly straightened from where they had been clustered in deep discussion. Hunter shot them a mistrustful look.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve got a plan,” announced Crosshair.

“And?”

Crosshair pounced.

It was only Hunter’s recent nausea that let Crosshair catch him unawares. The taller clone knocked his brother to the floor, immediately moving to grab his arms.

“Crosshair!” Hunter yelled, the name a curse as he bucked wildly and came close to shaking the older boy off. Crosshair responded by flipping Hunter to his front, quickly wrenching his arms up behind him and placing a knee firmly on his back, leaning all of his weight into it to keep Hunter pinned.

“If you can’t handle the lotion treatment,” said Crosshair, baring his teeth in a humourless grin as he fought to still his ferocious younger brother, “we’re going to go for the Wrecker special.”

Hunter wrenched his head to the side, gazing in terror up at Wrecker’s shaved head. “You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled, trying and failing to twist away.

“Wrecker?” said Crosshair, almost casually.

Wrecker grinned at his cue, cricking his neck and sauntering over with the clippers in one hand. Hunter renewed his struggle in earnest as the blades whirred to life.

“I feel somewhat uncomfortable at the idea of forcing this on Hunter against his will,” protested Tech from several feet away.

“If you’re not going to help just keep your mouth shut,” hissed Crosshair. Awkwardly he locked both Hunter’s arms with one of his and with his newly freed hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, holding his head in place.

“I’ll use the lotion! I’ll use it!” howled Hunter.

Crosshair scoffed. “You threw up just at the smell of it!”

“I’ll… I’ll put up with it! I can! Please, Cross–”

“And having your hair combed?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Crosshair!” Hunter’s pleas were rapidly dissolving into sobs. “I’ll do it, I’ll use the lotion, I’ll comb my hair. Please don’t cut it!”

Now Wrecker hesitated, crouched by Hunter’s head and looking to Crosshair for guidance. “Whaddya say, Cross? Gonna let him up?”

“To be applied weekly,” Crosshair quoted. “You’ve got long hair. It will take weeks.”

“I’ll do it!”

“I’m not having you throwing up and sick every week!” Crosshair dug his knee more firmly into Hunter’s spine, drawing a whimper of pain from the boy. “Your hair will grow back. Probably quicker than you’d get rid of the lice.”

For a moment he loosened his grip on Hunter’s hair, stroking his scalp almost soothingly. Then he twisted his fingers into place once more, glancing at Wrecker with a nod.

“I’m doing this because I care about you,” he ground out through gritted teeth, ignoring Hunter’s sobs as Wrecker started to shave great hanks of hair from Hunter’s head. “Better this than weeks of sickness.”

By the time they were done the humour had faded from the situation. Wrecker looked solemn as he made a final untidy pass over Hunter’s shorn head. Tech had retreated to his bunk, curled up with his back to the others and headphones turned up so loud the noise spilled into the now-quiet room.

Beneath Crosshair’s weight Hunter’s fight had subsided to piteous submission. Crosshair knew Hunter hated having the clippers near his head. Hated the noise, hated the faint electromagnetic field from their power-pack. They had cut Hunter’s hair once before. Only once.

Wrecker shut off the clippers and rocked back on his heels. “There. All done.”

Crosshair ran his hand across Hunter’s unevenly clipped hair, making a soothing noise. “Hey. It’s over. You’re okay,” he murmured softly, gently easing himself up to free the younger boy.

Hunter curled in on himself, hunched over his knees and wrapping his arms tightly round his chest.

“I hate you Crosshair.”

It was a venomous whisper. Crosshair looked taken aback and glanced at Wrecker for support.

“It’s better this way,” he repeated, but there was a note of doubt in his voice. “Better than the lotion making you sick.”

Hunter pushed to his feet, keeping his head tucked down and shoulders hunched defensively. He grabbed a clean shirt from his bunk without a word and let himself out of the room.

Crosshair watched him go in bewildered silence. Beside him Wrecker toyed with the clippers, and used his toe to nudge Hunter’s shorn locks into a single pile.

Glancing over, Tech removed his headphones and stood.

“If you’re quite done with that drama, perhaps we can treat our headlice now.”

Crosshair followed him to the bathroom without comment.

The scent of the lotion made him gag as he applied it, but he breathed shallowly through his mouth and scrubbed it into the roots of his close-cropped hair. Tech busied himself with his datapad, refusing to look at Crosshair. Crosshair didn’t like that. It gave him time to think.

He wouldn’t apologise. He wouldn’t. He was right. This was better for Hunter.

He cared for Hunter. Cared too much. Had felt a jolt of panic when the fumes had made Hunter throw up.

No matter how Hunter felt about it, this was the best option.

As he stood in the fresher, feeling sick to his stomach, he tried to tell himself it was the lotion that made his sensitive eyes water.

Not Hunter’s hurt and fear.

Not the way Hunter had fled without a backwards glance.

“Crosshair? Time to comb your hair.”

He followed Tech’s instructions numbly, scraping the fine-toothed comb through his silvery hair in careful sections until his whole scalp prickled. Then he leaned his head over the sink, lathering shampoo into his hair and rinsing it again and again until the chemical smell no longer lingered.

Until he thought the smell no longer lingered. Who knew what Hunter would think.

“It’s Hunter’s fault,” he announced, unprompted. “If he didn’t have such long hair it would have been easier to treat. Probably wouldn’t have caught lice in the first place.”

“Do you really believe that?” asked Tech cooly. He kept his attention fixed on his own reflection, combing through his hair with painstaking precision.

“Yes,” snarled Crosshair defensively. Yes, he did believe it. Had to believe it.

He busied himself towelling his hair roughly, so he didn’t have to look at Tech as he asked his next question.

“Hunter will get over this, right?”

Tech was silent until Crosshair peeked out from under the towel. He was staring at Crosshair in the mirror above the sink.

“Hunter’s hair will grow back,” said Tech, in a flat tone of voice that filled Crosshair with dread.

The young engineer grabbed his own towel and moved to the door.

“His trust… I don’t know.”

Crosshair watched Tech go. Watched the empty doorway for a while. Eventually he moved to the door and shut it, engaging the lock.

The privacy gave him chance to sift through his thoughts.

He sat with his back to the door for a long time, listening for Hunter’s return.

[jimcornflake]

Ch4 - Mantis

A/N: I had my first seizure a couple months ago and this description of it is based off of my personal experience. Also Yay! Chappie Four! Whoopi!

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Asa examined you, sprawled on your back with a terrified look on your face as you tried to sink in to the floor for protection. You scooted back in to the nearest corner, your knees tucked up to your chest and your hands out in front of you, trembling violently. Your eyes were wide with fear and sparkly with tears, including a single one that rolled down your cheek.

…Charming. He thought and resisted the urge to smile at the adorable way you thought that you could defend yourself in any way.

His eyes were suddenly drawn to a flash of pink and black between the gap in your legs. Before he even registered that he was eyeing your panties, your legs crossed and you wrapped your arms around them tightly.

You had stopped crying. The tears had left streaks of black down your face and your eyes looked strangely blank. Your lights were on, but nobody was home. You’d either gone in to shock or dissociated.

Asa actually huffed in amusement at how scared you were. Did he really come across as that kind of man? Oh. Well… yes. He suppose he did.

He tested to see how deep you’d spiraled already by bending down and ruffling your hair with a gloved hand. Your eyes had followed his movement, but you had no reaction.

Conscious, but not quite lucid. Interesting. He’d have to put that in his notes about this latest capture. First, he had to deal with his other problem.

He left you in the room by yourself to get acquainted with your surroundings as he went to go endure the rest of the long, long night ahead of him.

it wasn’t hard to find Arkin. He was in a hospital, having his injuries tended to.

Asa wasn’t one to ask for help, but he decided to cash in a favor from an old friend he’d helped out many a time. He watched from the parking lot where he could see Arkin through the window, a pair of binoculars in his hands.

A woman entered the room in hospital scrubs. She was short, with dark hair and dark eyes and a warm, pleasant face.

Arkin watched her as she prepared a needled on a tray with a bottle of medication of some sort next to it. He showed confusion and said something, most likely to ask what it was. The nurse eased him back down in to his bed as she gave him an explanation and began to search for a vein in his arm.

Once found, she inserted the needle and pressed it all the way down to the stopper. Once she was finished and had disposed of the needle, she turned on her heel and left the room, not bothering to give him any sort of bandage.

A few moments passed and then Arkin suddenly tensed up. He rigid and began seizing, his jaw hung open and his eyes rolled back in to his skull. A fountain of vomit welled up in his mouth, trickling out slowly as he choked to death on it.

The same small dark haired woman exited the hospital a moment later and walked back to her car. Before getting in, she turned back and gave Asa a very serious nod. He returned it and then she got in her car and drove away.

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