#Real-time visitor tracking

[parkomax]

Streamline Visitor Payments with Automated Entry Management Simplify the visitor entry process by integrating payment solutions that ensure seamless and secure access for paid visitors. Reduce queues and enhance visitor experience with our automated system.

[scrumsystem]

5 Ways Visitor Management Systems Improve Business Security

In today’s fast-paced and interconnected world, ensuring the safety and security of any organization is a top priority. A visitor management system plays a vital role in achieving this goal by helping businesses streamline and enhance the way they handle visitors. Whether it’s a corporate office, educational institution, or healthcare facility, managing visitors effectively not only strengthens security but also boosts efficiency and improves the overall experience for everyone involved.

Visitor management systems have evolved significantly from the traditional sign-in sheets to advanced visitor management software, which allows organizations to track, monitor, and manage visitors in real-time. In this post, we’ll explore what a visitor management system is, its benefits, and how adopting a modern solution can help your organization stay secure while improving operations.

What is a Visitor Management System?

A visitor management system is a digital solution that automates the process of tracking and managing visitors in a workplace or facility. This system replaces outdated methods like paper sign-in sheets, providing an efficient, secure, and professional way to manage visitor information.

By using a visitor management system, businesses can pre-register guests, issue digital badges, track entry and exit times, and maintain a detailed log of all visitors. This data can be accessed in real-time, helping organizations maintain accurate visitor records and improve security protocols.

Why is a Visitor Management System Important?

The importance of having a visitor management system goes beyond just signing visitors in and out. Here are some key reasons why it is crucial for modern businesses:

Enhanced Security: A visitor management system ensures that only authorized individuals gain access to your facility. By pre-screening visitors and verifying their identities, you can prevent unauthorized entry and reduce security risks.

Streamlined Operations: A digital system automates the entire visitor process, allowing receptionists and security staff to focus on other tasks. This increases productivity and reduces the time spent managing visitors.

Compliance: Many industries require organizations to keep detailed records of visitor activity for safety and legal reasons. A visitor management system helps businesses stay compliant with data protection regulations by securely storing visitor information.

Improved Visitor Experience: Visitors appreciate a seamless and professional check-in process. With a visitor management system, they can pre-register online, receive QR codes, and bypass long queues at the front desk.

Real-Time Notifications: Notify staff members instantly when their visitor arrives, saving time and ensuring a smoother visitor experience.

Key Features of a Modern Visitor Management Software

A modern visitor management software goes beyond basic visitor tracking. It offers a range of advanced features designed to improve security, compliance, and the overall visitor experience. Here are some essential features to look for:

1. Pre-Registration and Self Check-In

With visitor management software, visitors can pre-register before their visit, making the check-in process faster and more efficient. Self-check-in kiosks also enable guests to sign in without assistance, saving time and reducing the workload for front desk staff.

2. Visitor Badges and QR Codes

Visitor badges and QR codes provide an easy way to identify visitors. Digital badges are sent to visitors' mobile devices, allowing them to check in using their phones. This reduces the need for physical badges and enhances security.

3. Integration with Security Systems

To further boost security, visitor management software can integrate with existing security systems such as surveillance cameras, access control, and alarm systems. This integration provides a complete overview of visitor activity in real-time.

4. Real-Time Visitor Tracking

Organizations can monitor visitors throughout their stay, ensuring they are only in authorized areas. Real-time tracking also provides insights into peak visitor times, helping improve staffing and facility management.

5. Customizable Workflows and Notifications

A customizable visitor management software allows organizations to tailor the check-in process based on their specific needs. Notifications can be sent to relevant staff members when a visitor checks in, improving communication and response time.

6. Data Storage and Analytics

The software stores visitor data securely and provides analytics that helps businesses identify patterns, such as frequent visitors or high-traffic times. This information is invaluable for making informed decisions about security and operations.

Benefits of Implementing a Visitor Management Software

By transitioning from traditional methods to a visitor management software, organizations stand to gain a multitude of benefits that can enhance security, efficiency, and compliance. Let’s take a closer look at the main advantages:

1. Increased Security

Automated visitor tracking ensures that only authorized individuals are allowed access to your facility. By pre-screening visitors and keeping accurate logs, businesses can mitigate risks and respond quickly in case of a security breach.

2. Operational Efficiency

By eliminating the need for manual sign-ins, visitor management software streamlines the check-in process, freeing up front desk staff to focus on more important tasks. The system also ensures that visitors do not experience unnecessary delays upon arrival.

3. Compliance with Regulations

Many industries, such as healthcare, education, and finance, require strict record-keeping for visitors. A visitor management system helps businesses stay compliant with regulations by securely storing data and providing audit-ready reports.

4. Enhanced Visitor Experience

An efficient and smooth check-in process leaves a positive impression on visitors. With features like pre-registration and self check-in, visitors spend less time waiting and more time engaging with their host.

5. Cost Savings

A digital visitor management software reduces the need for paper logs and physical badges, cutting down on administrative costs. Additionally, its automated features reduce the need for additional staff to manage visitor check-ins.

How to Choose the Right Visitor Management System

With many options available, selecting the right visitor management system can be overwhelming. To ensure that you make the right choice for your organization, consider the following factors:

1. Ease of Use

The system should be easy to use for both staff and visitors. An intuitive interface and user-friendly design will encourage adoption and minimize training requirements.

2. Scalability

Choose a system that can grow with your business. As your organization expands, your visitor management software should be able to handle increased visitor traffic and adapt to new security needs.

3. Integration Capabilities

Ensure that the software integrates seamlessly with your existing security systems, such as surveillance cameras, access control, and employee directories.

4. Customization Options

Every organization has unique security and operational needs. Look for a solution that allows you to customize workflows, notifications, and visitor badges to suit your requirements.

5. Compliance Features

If your industry requires detailed visitor logs or follows strict data protection regulations, choose a system that offers robust compliance features, such as secure data storage and detailed reporting.

Conclusion

Implementing a visitor management system is a critical step for organizations that prioritize security, efficiency, and compliance. By replacing outdated manual processes with modern visitor management software, businesses can enhance security, streamline operations, and create a better experience for visitors.

Whether you are a small office or a large facility, adopting a visitor management system will provide you with the tools needed to track visitors effectively and maintain a safe, secure environment for your staff and guests. Take the step towards better security and improved operations by exploring the right visitor management software for your organization today.

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 9: Folklore Creatures

Spin on "Little Red Riding Hood" anyone? What could be better than someone so obsessed with you, they simply want to eat you up?

Prompt: Folklore Creatures | Cautionary Tales // Truth // Naivity Warnings: Yandere, Violence (non-main character murder, Blood Mention, Implied Bullying of the reader (off-screen)), Topic of Jealousy, Posessiveness

"Love you, hun."

Pressing a gentle kiss to your head, your boyfriend got up, stretching his arms high over his head and popping his neck before he got to his feet with a sigh. "Where are you going? Do you really have to leave?" you mumbled, the disappointment unmistakably in your voice. It had been like this for weeks now, where you two spent a passionate night before he slipped out without a trace to find him all day.

"Mhm," he sighed, leaning down to you again to catch your lips once more. "You know how much it pains me, but I got to go before it's too late. Wouldn't want to awaken the monster in me, would you?"

He said it as if it was a challenge, and you giggled, thinking it was just another innuendo. "Wouldn't let me get out of bed, huh?"

"Oh, I'd gobble you up, darling."

Laughing, he stepped away, putting his shirt back on as he dipped into the bathroom of your small apartment real quick. The moment he disappeared from view, you couldn't help your expression from showing the disappointment and frustration you felt. It had been almost a month now, and you two never went out together in the daylight, never saw each other except when he picked you up for a night out in the club or came to watch a movie that was never finished.

It felt more like you were his friend-with-benefits—you didn't even know his last name.

As if you were the other one.

The thought made your blood boil. You weren't proud of it, but in a moment of jealous weakness, you had checked his phone, seeing countless messages where he told people how excited he was to hang out and make appointments with them while he never seemed to do the same for you. It didn't seem like he had another partner in his life, but how could you be sure when he played the role of the mysterious night visitor rather than your wholesome boyfriend?

Was he ashamed of you? Were you not good enough? Did he just keep you around for his entertainment? The questions plagued you as he never gave you a good answer. He wouldn't even entertain the discussions, only vowing that he loved you and his work was very important and took him all day.

So why was he meeting other people then?

There wasn't much time once he said his goodbyes, his kisses nothing short of loving and sweet. For a possible cheater, he was good at what he was doing. You only had a few seconds of self-doubt about what you were going to do before you were out of the door and hunting after him, long coat and sunglasses on in true stalker-fashion. It felt wrong, and you hated yourself for mistrusting him so much, but at the same time, you two were still practically strangers, knowing so little while still being so in love. A little craziness was inevitable, right?

However, as your boyfriend turned from the main street into the shady path leading to the central park of your town, you suddenly felt a sense of panic. What if you accidentally got involved with some shady fellow? What if this was a drug deal or worse? Why would someone need to go to a park in the middle of the night?

You had assumed he was leaving you alone every night to hook up with other people or go back to an unsuspecting partner, but as you gently brushed through the thicket, trying to stay out of the moonlight that would give away your presence, you suddenly weren't so sure anymore.

You could still see him as he walked further into the park. It should have been your sign to leave, get away while you could, and cut all contact... but you had already gotten this far. Following closely by hiding behind trees and the occasional park bench, you tracked him through the greenery. Once, he almost seemed to spot you, but you ducked into a bush just in time, regretting this move only when the thicket tore at the fabric of your coat, making unnecessary noise. Still, you managed to stay hidden, heart racing and always alert.

Eventually, your boyfriend sat on a park bench in front of a pond. Nothing much happened for the next few minutes, and you were about to call this mission off, seeing how relaxed he was. It was as if he simply enjoyed hanging out in the park at night like a semi-normal person would.

But footsteps crunching over the gravel made you cower lower, your eyes fixating on the person approaching. Your boyfriend lifted a hand in greeting, and the person sprinted forward, hood falling off her head, revealing a cruel sight.

Because you knew the woman your boyfriend was meeting.

Your bully.

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watched as she jumped into his arms, giggling as your boyfriend spun her around. The only reason for them to meet you could think of was that the two set you up, made you fall in love with him so they could laugh at you behind your back. It really broke your heart to watch them cuddle on the park bench, your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—ruffling her hair.

You didn't want to stay to see this.

It was a good thing you found out, but with tears filling your eyes, you knew you had to leave before you were discovered or hurt yourself more by watching them. This trainwreck wasn't one you should have been observing, and it hurt enough that you wanted to never come out of your home again.

"You know, [Name]?" your boyfriend suddenly asked, the sound of your name on his tongue so bittersweet.

"Who? Oh..." your bully replied, thinking for a moment. "What about them? They are a loser, not worth your time."

"Is that so? Because they told me about you, lots of things."

"You're ruining the mood. Isn't it enough that I agreed to meet you here? It's so creepy! Did you know how they found quite a few bodies lately around this park? We should go clubbing or to a bar, why are we even here talking about some loser?"

Your bully let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her hair back over her shoulder before leaning close. "You know we never even kissed until now. Don't you think it's such a waste of those lovely lips to talk when we could make out instead?"

Letting out a dry laugh, he didn't seem flattered at all as she tried to avert the topic of you. Good, you thought, because you really weren't up to hearing about yourself from the bully and the traitor. Even so, you couldn't move. As if you were frozen to the spot.

"Good thing you mentioned that. I prefer not making my partner worried about whether I'm cheating or not."

"Partner?" your bully spat, scrunching up her nose, the ugliness of her expression matching her personality. "Don't tell me you're fucking with that. I thought you had better taste when you asked me out to dinner the last few times. Thought you'd appreciate beauty more--"

Her words were cut off as your boyfriend's hand wrapped around your throat. He brought her face closer to his, sounding more enraged than you had ever heard him before. "How dare you talk about them like that. They are perfect. Wonderful. Special. It's filth like you that needs to be taken out so my love can be happy."

The two rose from their seat, and you watched as your boyfriend seemingly effortlessly hoisted your bully into the air. Something felt off, and you couldn't look away as you watched the clothes on his body tearing apart, your bully struggling as his fingers stretched and wrapped around her neck completely. She let out mewls and gasps as she tried to kick him, tried to make him stop, but the horror was in both of your eyes as you watched your boyfriend transform.

Skin turned into fur, mouth into snout. His posture changed as his body grew taller, monstrous, into a beast. Part of you couldn't believe your own eyes as you watched him take on canine features as if you were in a movie, watching a werewolf transform, but by the way, your bully was struggling harder, unable to scream, you realized it was real, and she saw it too.

Horrified, you could only clasp your hands over your mouth, containing your shivers. Doggish years popped up from his head, twisting and turning towards your direction. You had to be quiet, undetected, or surely, you'd be the next prey of that monster. His snout opened, long, sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight, and you heard the gurgled scream of your bully before the beast pounced, biting between her neck and shoulder.

Your bully was still kicking and trying to break loose as blood gushed from the bite, her sounds turning into gurgles before everything quieted out, and she stopped moving. Even though your eyes were so wide open, you couldn't believe them at all, couldn't understand what just happened, only listening to the sound of fluids gushing out and dripping to the floor, bones breaking beneath the claws and massive jaw, and eventually, her body simply slipping from his grip, seemingly meaningless.

"[Name], [Name], [Name]. Isn't it so impolite to eavesdrop on others?" the monster suddenly grumbled. Its massive head swung in your direction, eyes scanning from one side of the thicket to the other before finally settling on you despite the greenery. "I didn't want you to find out like this. We could have talked about it some other time—like on a picnic!"

Putting his feet into motion, you were still completely frozen as you watched the creature march towards you. If this was a bad dream, now would have been a good moment to wake up. You two held the eye contact, even as you watched the grotesque features slowly turn back into a human, first the head, then arms.

"Well, it is your business, too, I'll admit. I've been doing this all of you. Was I not a good boy, taking care of all these mean people for you?"

Until now, you had never taken much notice of the people you disliked disappearing. If anything, you were glad they weren't around anymore. But now that he was pointing it out, a cold shudder ran down your spine, guilt overcoming you.

"They were in the way of your happiness, and I need a good meal every now and then. We both got something out of it, you sweet, sweet thing—look at you cowering. Are you scared? Of the big, bad wolf? What if I'm a nice wolf, will you come to me then? Don't worry, no one's going to hurt you, I'll take care of all that try."

Even with the words so sweetly murmured, you didn't dare move and fall for his promises. He was a fucking werewolf or any other kind of monster! But werewolf made the most sense. It also explained so much more, for example, how he knew exactly where you were. It only made you wonder if he knew all along. Let himself be exposed to you. Wanting for you to see this.

See him.

Now back in his human form, he reached into the bush, parting it aside to reveal your cowering form. His grin widened as he watched you trembling in fear from him, this... other side of him probably enjoying a primal thrill at the prey he had caught.

"What... what are you? You had those big ears-"

"-to hear your thrilling pulse, darling."

"And your eyes were-"

"-so I could spot you and make sure you'd not hurt yourself, sweetheart."

"A-And your mouth was... you know."

At this, he simply grinned, and you gulped down any other word. "Gobble you up," he said earlier that night. It had not just been a sexy innuendo.

"Are you... going to kill me, too?" you asked woefully, feeling like your fate had already been sealed.

"You? Now, now, who'd do such a thing."

Clicking his tongue at you as if you had just insulted him, your boyfriend stepped through the gap in the bush, crossing over into your hideout, destroying every safety this thicket had provided with his presence. He leaned down, picking you up with what you now knew was unnatural strength and holding your bridal style as he carried you back towards the pond. The moonlight shined down on you two, the reflection on the water's surface blinding you. But it wasn't enough to make you forget about the body that laid just below you.

"I'm glad you could make it here, though. I wanted to enjoy the full moon with you for so long, you know? But you did interrupt my meal, how are you going to make up for it?" he asked, not a hint of seriousness in his voice. As if this was all a game rather than the brutal reality you had only just learned about.

"I--" you sputtered, unable to answer that. Your mind kept coming back to realize you were the next best meal to have and served as if on a silver platter as he carried you.

"Juuust joking," your boyfriend laughed. "How about we go home and order some late-night food? I'm so hungry!"

Ignoring the dead body on the floor, he merely stepped over it, chatting about whether he wanted burger or tacos as if he hadn't just revealed himself to be a fairytale monster and killed someone.

"Or, you know, we could make this fun. You could run, and I could catch you, have a nibble of those sweet cheeks; how about it?"

You felt the blood drain from your face, and his grin diminished as he watched you cower into yourself, his grip tightening around as you grew tense. "Okay, too early, got it."

"You're really not going to kill me?"

"Nope. Can't. You're my mate. You're what all werewolves crave—what I crave. Your happiness is all that satisfies me."

"Then... you'll let me go if I want to?"

His expression turned into a frown, and he shook his head. "There are rules," he said factually. "I'll explain them to you someday. But basically, they don't allow us to tell people about our existence. If I let you go, you might tell someone and--"

"I won't! I promise! I'll take your secret to the grave, please!" you pleaded, and your boyfriend grimaced, looking unhappy at your determination.

"And even more importantly-" he continued, raising his voice threatingly to make you behave. "-they teach us to never let our mates go, as there won't be another one. And living without is torture for a werewolf."

"Never?" you whined softly, and the smile returned to his face. Now he looked almost completely back to normal, like the sweet boyfriend you fell in love with. But you couldn't ignore the wolf in a sheep's skin—not with the blood of your bully still clinging to his chest.

"Never," he assured you firmly, and you knew instinctively that he meant it.

[normal-newt]

Wildlife rescue organisations here have very intense politics. Like, if you criticize any organisations’ practices you can end up being “locked out” of even unpaid positions in all of them. Which is why this is going safely under a username and not anywhere near my actual one. But it’s so frustrating watching everyone making the same mistakes over and over again.

So some baby animal can’t be released, and it’s decided that they will be used as an education/ ambassador animal. Because of this, they don’t need to be raised to avoid humans. But some people think that this means they should be treated like human children. One organisation literally started splitting up captive-born joeys from wild but un-release-able kangaroos specifically to raise so that when they grew up they would “think they were human”. And for the first year or two it goes great. They want to snuggle with everyone who will look at them, they play with people, and they are just unbearably cute. And people aww about it and say that they really do think they’re human. 

When they start to reach sexual maturity, they start “acting up”. People get kicked and scratched and they start to realise that their “child” isn’t acting so snuggly anymore, and they get angry. And the kangaroos have no fucking idea why, because they can’t know that they’re play wrestling is strong enough to hurt us. Because it turns out they don’t think they’re human, but they certainly seem to think we’re kangaroos.

And by the time they’re old enough to start fighting for real, it’s already too late to do anything about it. You can’t let visitors anywhere near them for safety reasons. 90% of the staff and volunteers won’t go in to clean the enclosures, and a lot of them still blame the animals. Some animals are so risky to work with that feeding them takes two people in the enclosure and one person acting as a “spotter”. There is no PPE for this, so people end up using plastic buckets as shields.

Anyway I’m mostly just yelling at the void, but if anyone reading this was wondering why a lot of zoos and wildlife rescues don’t cuddle the baby animals. it’s because of this sort of thing. There are a lot of really good ways to make sure baby animals feel comfortable and safe, but handling them too much usually either scares them, or means that they could seriously injure someone down the track.

It’s also why so many people who’ve worked with animals are so strongly against people owning certain types of exotic pets. If someone is telling you not to get a pet serval or kangaroo or whatever else people are keeping in their living rooms, there’s a good chance they’re trying to stop you getting mauled.

[allfearstofallto]

Childe meeting Scaramouche's Wife -Drabble

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader x Yandere(?) Childe

Scaramouche didn't have “guests.” He had visitors and nuisances, but never guests. You didn't even think he had real friends, seeing as he spent most of his time pestering you.

So when he showed up at home with another person, you were visibly surprised. A man a head taller than him, with a Playboy smile and messy orange hair.

“You need not bow to him,” Scaramouche ordered, making you raise your head, “He'll be staying for dinner. Be sure to tell the head maid to make preparations.”

“Yes, my lord,”

As they walked past you, the man stopped in his tracks at your side. He looked you over in interest, but his eyes seemed to be lacking light or glimmer. Despite his smile, his eyes felt truly dull.

“You're not going to introduce me to your wife?” he asked, sounding a little hurt.

“I didn't feel it necessary,”

The man took his glove off and tucked it into his pocket, then reached his hand out to you, “Call me Childe.”

You looked to Scaramouche, waiting for his signal before taking the man's hand and giving it a firm shake, something you hadn't done in the year since you married him, shaking hands wasn't common in Inazuma.

You went to pull your hand away, but Childe held his grip. He gave you a mischievous smirk, a look that made your heart drop to your stomach. Your hand was lifted up to his face, and his pink lips pressed a kiss against it.

You were quick to yank your hand back, but that wasn't enough for Scaramouche. You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head, his rage making the air in the room hard to breathe.

“You've been here for less than ten minutes, and you've already found a way to piss me off,” he spat, but Childe just laughed, proving to you that he was truly batshit insane.

“You worry too much, it's just a greeting,” he patted Scaramouche on the back rather firmly as the two of them began the walk to the office together. Just when you thought you could breathe a sigh of relief, Childe turned his head to look back at you. You felt your blood run cold as he shot you a sultry smile, followed by a wink.

[beefcakekinard]

43 + 45 for bucktommy 💕💕💕

43. falling asleep with their head in your lap +

45. running hands through hair

In the unflattering fluorescent hospital lighting, in a hard plastic visitor's chair, Evan looks wan. The light hits his face at odd angles, dragging down the deep bags under his eyes, draining his skin of its colour, its rosy vital glow.

Tommy has never seen anyone look so beautiful.

"Hey, baby," he rasps. He tries to clear his throat and ends up in a coughing fit that sets pain lancing through his body. Evan's eyes widen and in his rush to get a straw between Tommy's lips, he spills water on Tommy's chest.

"Hey, hey, it's good to see you awake," Evan says as Tommy sips his water. "How are you feeling?"

Tommy lets the straw go and tries to take stock. He looks down at himself - his left leg is in a cast from his hip down, as is his left arm. They both hurt in a dull, vague way, same as his ribs and his head. There's an IV line running through the back of his right hand. His stomach turns a little at the sight so he looks away. He's not great with needles.

"It hurts," he says, frowning. He looks back up at Evan, who plasters a fake smile on his face. "What happened?"

Evan takes his hand, carefully, cups Tommy's fingers between both of his hands without jostling the IV. "You don't remember?"

Tommy shakes his head and decides never to do that again when it makes the room spin.

"You were- there was an accident," Evan says, stroking his thumb down the back of Tommy's index finger. "You, uh, you got hit by- by a car."

"Oh." Tommy looks into Evan's eyes. They're so pretty. "Really?"

Evan smiles a little - this one is real, Tommy can tell. "Yeah. What's the last thing you remember?"

Tommy thinks, tries to grasp the memory of what he was doing before he woke up. It's hard to hold onto any one thought - it's like chasing bubbles. The second he gets his hands on one, it pops, gone. Evan likes to blow bubbles for Jee. She runs through them, twirling until each and every one is gone, and asks again, again! It's so cute it makes Tommy giggle.

"What's so funny, huh?" Evan asks. He's smiling still, kind of, but he looks confused.

"You're so cute," Tommy explains. He knows Evan will get what he means. Evan always gets what he means. Case in point: he laughs, which makes Tommy smile even more because he loves that sound.

"You enjoying that morphine, babe?"

Tommy almost shakes his head - but then he remembers he shouldn't. "I don't like morphine. It makes me nauseous." He pulls his hand out of Evan's hold and presses his thumb to Evan's birthmark. It fits his thumb so perfectly. Like Cinderella's shoe. "I like you, Cinderella."

Evan laughs for real, then, big and loud, and Tommy feels proud of himself. It's his job to make Evan happy. His hand is dislodged, but he raises it again, landing it in Evan's hair. It doesn't feel like gel, like he's used to, all he feels are Evan's soft curls, and he could get addicted to how they glide under his fingers. He pulls Evan closer, then down, so he's resting his head on Tommy's hip, and Tommy doesn't have to lift his hand so high to touch his hair. Evan's still smiling up at him.

"You look tired," Tommy says. Evan proves his point by yawning.

"I'm fine. You're the one who needs his rest." Evan lays a hand on Tommy's knee. He likes it, he always likes when Evan touches him.

"You can sleep," Tommy says. He traces his thumb across Evan's dark under-eye, making his eyelashes flutter, and on his way back to burying his fingers in Evan's hair he presses his thumb into Evan's birthmark again. "I want you to."

"Will you sleep if I do?"

"Yeah," Tommy lies. He thinks Evan sees through him, because Evan knows him so well, but he still closes his eyes and nuzzles against Tommy's hip.

Tommy focuses on brushing his fingers through Evan's hair, letting his curls bounce back into shape before he reaches them again, following the soothing rhythm of Evan's breathing. He loses track of time; it drips, slow like the motion of his fingers, slow like his thoughts that remain out of reach, and before he has a chance to notice it, his own eyes have grown heavy.

He falls back asleep in pain, still - but with Evan's head a welcome weight on his hip, Evan's hand on his knee, his fingers tangled up in Evan's hair, it's easy to ignore.

[revelboo]

Broken Arrow Pt 2

TFP Megatron x reader- truth

• Right on time. Even with no real way of tracking time, you can sort of guess the passing of days by your visitor. Megatron is like a big, half-rabid dog with a favorite toy- and that toy is you. He amuses himself with your frustration and constantly prods at you just to see if he can goad you into snapping back at him. Can’t, won’t, stand being ignored. Tugging on that stupid silver leash as light and insubstantial as tissue paper he put on you until you meet his optics.

• If other Decepticons are about, he makes a show of threatening you. Eventually, you’d realized those threats are pretty empty. You almost think that the big, bad Decepticon warlord likes having someone to talk to without all the posturing or scheming. Someone who has no choice but to listen as he bleeds the poison from his veins. The first time he opens up, it’s after you loudly insinuate that the Decepticons are the bad guys. Because they are.

• And he’s silent, a storm gathering on the horizon until part of you wants to take it back. As much as you snarl right back at him when cornered, he terrifies you. You’re truly scared of what might happen when he finally realizes the bravery and snark is all an act. As those big, clawed hands curl into fists, you wonder if today is that day.

• He doesn’t yell, though and somehow that’s so much worse as he starts talking, growling voice soft and dark. Painting a bleak picture of the mines, of lives worth nothing, less than nothing, to the aristocracy, where resistance was silenced with brutal finality. And despite yourself, your heart aches for him, for this monster.

• Because he’s the monster they made. A monster who’d dared to say no. To rise up. And yes, he went about it with vicious abandon, but you understand that hatred a little too well. You understand him and it feels like the ground has shifted under you. Never mind that you don’t want to sympathize with him, that you want to keep hating him. You need that righteous anger.

• Maybe he senses that or maybe he’s as off balance at having said too much as you are for hearing it, because he goes right back to threats and toying with you like he said nothing at all. And you play along, heart hurting. But it’s there in the back of your mind, a tiny seedling of pity and understanding taking root.

Previous Next

[randombush3]

too sweet

alexia putellas x reader

it's based on the hozier song and i just got bored during my break

icl this might not make sense x

[...]

You aren’t sure how you ended up here. 

There was a path, there was a brick lane painted yellow and filled with singing and dancing, and, what? Did you spiral off it? Were you the hurricane, were you the destroyer? 

Maybe you are The Destroyed. 

It’s too late to think about it. 

Not because you are past repair, but because it really is late – later than usual. 

The door has been locked twice, meaning Alexia has given in and gone to bed. “Fuck,” you swear as your keys clatter to the floor, typical for you to be the one to break the peaceful silence. A rustle comes from the bedroom; a sigh, a muffled sob. “Ale?”

And it’s instinctive, the way you run to her. Once upon a time, that was all you ever did, back when you played, back when the path was good and smooth and clear.

Alexia doesn’t want to see you. She hates the smell of whiskey, she hates the gruffness of your voice. There comes a point where a person can no longer bear it. No matter how much love she wraps around you, weaving the thinning strings together to form a rope and begging you to let her pull you up from this, there comes a point where Alexia, perhaps blinded too much by her love, is destroying herself just so that you don’t go down alone. 

She’s tired. 

When you arrive at the bedroom door, she has turned over, the duvet slightly too cold and the bed slightly too empty. “Ale, are you awake?” you ask, drunken foolishness clouding your sense as the lump under the covers does not respond, does not feel she can. “Baby?” 

The bed doesn’t look inviting, and you feel unwelcome. 

You roll your shoulders back. 

“Alexia, don’t pretend.” 

The silence is haunting and you try to escape it as soon as possible, letting out a viscous laugh, directing it towards her back. The noise slashes welts in her skin, your tongue a whip, you her mistress and she, your slave. Alexia closes her eyes.

An alarm rings through the apartment. The sun is not quite up, so it would be dark if you hadn’t been staring at the soft glow of the lamp beside the TV for the past hour. 

The screen isn’t on. 

You don’t quite feel escaping this life just yet. 

“Bon dia.” Soft feet pad into the kitchen, face washed, training kit pulled on. Her nose wrinkles as the bitterness of coffee hurtles towards her, and she doesn’t make an effort to conceal her frown at the empty bottle of whiskey on the floor beside you. “Are you planning to get some rest?” 

“Are you making coffee?”

“I read a study that says it negatively affects performance.” 

“Are you making me a coffee?” you amend with a smirk, sitting up and staring her down. Through the redness of your eyes shines what first attracted her to you, the devilish spark, the clearly set out intention of doing something stupid. 

She watches you haul yourself up, staggering towards her. Your hands are cold and clammy, but their grip on her waist feels just as good as it always does. She leans back into you. 

“The sun’s not up yet but Alexia Putellas is ready to train,” you murmur into her ear, kissing the skin of her neck as though to soothe where the dig must have sliced her. “No journalist tracks your morning routine, baby. You could’ve stayed in bed a bit longer, let yourself wake up later. Don’t you ever wanna?” 

Her body relaxes, choosing to hear your voice but not what you are saying. She lets herself fall into the pit you rot in; your most frequent visitor. “I am drunk on life,” she replies with a forgiving smile. 

You step back, Alexia stumbling with you, having been leaning on your body. 

“I’m not drunk.” It is far from a new lie. “Have fun at training,” you grit out. She sees the back of you as you lurch towards the bedroom door. Her tears try to fall, but she wipes her face with her knuckles and collects herself before she heads out into the real world. Her home feels like a dungeon, but one that is not meant for her. 

The girls undergo the usual ritual of asking after you. Your retirement was forced, but they all saw it coming. 

You were not sculpted from the same heroic marble, withstanding heat and terror. Nothing about you fit into training regimes and early mornings, sweetened energy drinks on promotion, discipline and determination. You got by on talent, rough and raw, and listening to your beloved prison warden on occasion. 

If Alexia is the Greek hero, you were, perhaps, the weapon she used. Deadly, yes. Sought-after. But, if dropped, clattering towards the ground lifelessly. 

She crouches down to pick you up, but your metal burns so hot that she is not sure she can touch you. 

When Alexia comes home, you are asleep. She opens the windows, self-consciously airing out the stench of alcohol before a few of her teammates come over for dinner, and she cleans the stickiness from the worktops. She lights a candle. She wishes it were an altar, a conduit to her saviour, and she prays, for a moment, that this will end soon. 

When she opens her eyes, she realises the only saviour she has been thinking of has been you. 

She crawls into the bed beside you. 

You stir at the feeling of fingers combing through your hair. 

Alexia is as bright as the morning sun, blazing above Barcelona. She is untouchable. 

The distance that has grown between you has grown because she is the zenith and you are the nadir. It is just too far to overcome. 

You are real. You suffer, you cry, you poison yourself and enjoy it. You like how you live, you like how free you are. 

Alexia’s gentle rousing – but rousing, nonetheless – sends you tumbling past your limit. 

This is not how she wants you to be, but you cannot be something you are not. 

“You’re too sweet for me.” 

She hears the rejection, but she shakes her head. 

“No, no,” she whispers desperately, pleading for it to not mean what it does, begging you to swallow it back inside. “No, I’m not. Remember?” 

She means her ACL, she means the venomous arguments and the early days where you’d watch her carefully as she inhaled your second-hand smoke. She means now, where she lets you live the way you do because she understands how life works and she gets it, she does, and she really only just wants you to be happy. 

You blink slowly. “Ale.” 

“No, I’m… I’m just still playing! I have to take my career seriously, but, but, the off-season! You know how I am in the off-season?” 

“Baby, you don’t give yourself an off-season.” 

“I can!” she vows. “I can, and we’ll go on holiday with the girls, and we’ll wake up dark as lakes and you can make me smell like a fucking bonfire, if you’d like.” 

“Ale…” 

“Please,” she asks. 

You wish you could go along with the farce. In all honesty, you’re a bit surprised that is has lasted up to now. 

You cannot do this anymore. Maybe one day, when she is done playing and training and conforming to the intense regimes the club upholds them to, you will come back to her. Maybe one day, she will have sat in the barrel long enough to have soured, bitter, now, and much more palatable. 

But you are certain about the present, about the woman lying beside you with tears running down her cheeks. You decide that if you were to taste the liquid, what is supposed to be salty would be sweet, and, with that, you have convinced yourself. 

“Alexia, baby, you’re too sweet for me.” 

[puppy-stevee]

@outpastthebrakers posted a thing about hospital security guard eddie and er nurse steve and @zerokrox-blog sent in a prompt for a steddie med school au, but despite working in a hospital, i don't know anything about med school other than it's 4 years of schooling and 4 years of residency, so i couldn't deliver on that part unfortunately. but i hope yall enjoy regardless!

"Are you gonna actually do something tonight, or are you just gonna sit there and look handsome like always?"

Steve pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up from the computer and rolls his eyes.

"I could ask you the same thing, you know," he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "This is the third time you've been down here in the last," Steve checks his watch, "hour. Don't you have a parking lot to patrol or something?"

Eddie only laughs and hooks his thumbs into his belt loops. "Bold of you to assume they let me drive the car, big boy. Nah, Preston drives and I get to be the passenger princess I was born to be."

Steve snorts. He definitely doesn't pay attention to the looks the other nurses are giving them.

"Besides," Eddie continues. He leans his elbows on the counter of the nurse's station. "It's your fault I'm down here so often in the first place."

"Oh really?" Steve raises an eyebrow and doesn't hide the fact that he's checking out the tattoos on Eddie's forearms that are showcased by the short sleeves of his uniform shirt framing his biceps. Hospital uniform policy says minimal jewelry but Eddie's never been one for conformity so his fingers are adorned with rings of different size.

(Hospital policy also says that security staff are, under no circumstances, to physically harm violent patients or visitors, but that policy doesn't say anything about Eddie threatening to dole out a knuckle sandwich or two.)

Eddie tracks Steve's gaze and smirks. He taps his fingers on the counter in a rolling rhythm, his black nail polish accenting the flashiness of his rings.

Eddie leans in a little more (which isn't necessary because the counter is a foot above the desk Steve is sitting at) and almost purrs, public decency be damned, "Because, princess, if it weren't for you, I'd be stuck up in my office doing something boring, like reading." He places a hand on his chest. "As much as I love my dragon hoard of books, seeing your pretty face for twelve hours is a much better option."

Steve blushes and tries to sputter out a response, but the radio clipped to Eddie's shoulder goes off.

Eddie confirms the call and groans, dropping his head.

The moment is all Steve needs to compose himself. "Oh no," he frowns, insincere but his tone teasing. "You have to actually do your job. How awful."

Eddie mouths wordlessly back at him, mocking, but then grins and raps his knuckles on the counter once more, giving him a wink. "Don't miss me too much, sweetheart."

Steve tries to not watch as Eddie walks down the hallway, but god those pants fit him so well. He's always had a thing for tiny, perky asses.

"Steve."

Steve jumps and does not yelp like a child. He turns to see his colleague Jen. Jen's been working in the ER for a few years and is a spitfire with a heart of gold.

"You've been flirting with him for months and neither of you have made a real move on each other. What the hell? The betting pool Trent and Brett have is getting shallow."

The tips of Steve's ears start to burn. "Betting pool?!" He turns his chair around to the guys mentioned and they're very much making an effort not to look at him. "You guys are betting on us hooking up? How old are you, twelve?"

"Stevie," Jen sighs in a dramatic way that reminds Steve of Robin and it makes his heart clench. "You have turned down every single person in the vicinity since you started. Eddie is obviously into you and you're into him. I'm going to say this as nicely as I can because you're my favorite out of all the graduates: Please jump this man's bones so I can get my $50."

"My love life is only worth $50 to you?"

"Steve."

Steve groans and hits his head on the desk.

xxxxxxxx

Eddie outright moans when 7am rolls around and he's finally able to take off his uniform. He shoves the bulletproof vest and his holster belt into his locker and his shirt and pants into his dufflebag to be washed later.

God, he doesn't even want to think about laundry.

After he got the call that pulled him away from Steve, it was like the floodgates opened. Two code violets, one report of a car circling the ASU parking lot suspiciously, and three code browns that ended up being patients sneaking outside for a smoke.

He didn't blame them. With the night he had, he's regretting his decision to quit.

Eddie walks through the automatic doors at the entrance of the hospital after he's changed back into his civvies, and those regrets immediately disappear and his mood brightens when he sees who's waiting for him.

Wayne's van is parked in the drop off zone and the sliding door is opened. A bright grin stretches across Eddie's tired face as he gets closer to his little girl, happily squirming in her car seat and drinking juice out of her bottle.

"Da-dee!"

Eddie lets his bag slide off his shoulder and onto the ground but Wayne picks it up and puts it next to Emma's diaper bag.

"Hi, baby!" Eddie coos as he unbuckles her. "Good morning!" He kisses her cheek and buries his nose in her hair, a chesnut brown like her dad's, and cuddles her close. "I missed you so much. Did you have fun with papaw last night?"

"She fussed a little after you left but I got her settled," Wayne says. He holds up a McDonald's bag. "Decided she was gonna get an early start this morning so I figured yall could use some breakfast."

Eddie's stomach chooses the right time to growl and his mouth waters. Last he ate was a TV dinner around one in the morning. Eddie tells Wayne to pick a spot in the visitor's parking lot and then takes Emma back inside the hospital with him.

He doesn't see Steve when he gets to the ER.

"Hey, Steve hasn't left yet, has he?"

A nurse, Jen, Eddie thinks her name is, looks at him and immediately starts cooing at the (admittedly adorable) baby in his arms that's looking around with curious eyes and drinking her juice.

"Steve's in the locker room getting changed, he's just about to clock out. Who is this little cutie?"

Eddie grins and bounces Emma lightly. "This is Emma, my little monster. She gets all her cuteness from her other dad."

Jen's face falls for a second but before Eddie can ask what's wrong, Emma squeals way too loudly for a hospital at 7:30 in the morning and almost throws her bottle in her excitement.

"Da! Da!"

Steve looks just about as tired as Eddie feels and he can practically hear their bed calling their names. But Steve's eyes light up when he hears who's calling for him and a sort of puppy-like grin takes over his face, dopey and happy.

Emma is already reaching for him and Steve quickly strides over and takes her in his arms.

"Good morning, lovebug," Steve says, enveloping her in the gentlest hug he can muster. He breathes in her natural baby smell and closes his eyes.

Eddie's hand goes to his waist to keep him awake and Steve hums, opening his eyes and leaning into give Eddie a peck on the cheek.

"Morning, baby," he murmurs, all traces of teasing and flirting from the night before gone and replaced with open affection.

Steve doesn’t need to look at Jen to know her jaw is probably on the floor.

Eddie returns the kiss on Steve's lips. "Morning, sweetheart. Wayne’s waiting with breakfast outside. Seems like little miss princess here decided she was gonna wake up early, early today." He tickles Emma's tummy as he says this, causing her to laugh around her binky and try to push his fingers away.

"Food sounds so good right now," Steve practically whines.

Jen is still staring between the three of them. Steve smiles sheepishly.

"Sorry you didn't win your money. I should’ve told you, Eddie and I have been together for years. Emma's our daughter." He shifts Emma in his arms and gives everyone a wave. "I'll see you guys later."

He and Eddie walk out of the hospital hand in hand. They eat their breakfast in the parking lot and Wayne follows them to their house to stay up with Emma while Steve and Eddie get some much needed sleep.

When they go back into work later that evening, they fess up to everyone and Eddie gives Jen $50 right from his own wallet.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: Late Night Visitor

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. Reader is described as being "curvy." I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

1934 Philadelphia

The subtle scratch of your pencil against the smooth page of the sketchbook filled your quiet bedroom. One look at the ticking clock on your bedside table stated that it was past midnight, but you didn't care. The dark circles under your eyes the next morning were well worth it, tiredness forgotten as the haze of creativity dulled the weariness of the day you'd had.

It was your fifteenth birthday, and although your parents had thrown you a lavish party to prove that the y/l/n family had not been touched by the destruction of the depression and were not concerned with the horrors of war overseas, there was only one person that you wanted to be there.

Ben wasn't of course. He was still at boarding school number five, and you imagined that a number six was already in order, given his track record.

You smile to yourself when you think of your best friend. You hadn't seen him in two months, not since you walked with him to the train station and he tried to act like he didn't care that his father was sending him away again, but you knew he did.

The things that Ben's father said and did to him made anger surge behind your ribcage. You didn't understand how his father could be so callous, so uncaring. You also hate that it drove Ben to drink, though Ben didn't seem to drink quite as much when you were around, because he knew that you didn't like it.

The party would have been more entertaining if he was there. Yes he did tend to get drunk and flirt with whatever walked past him, but he always had a way of cheering you up. And he had a wonderful knack for keeping your mother at a distance, who prayed that Ben would stay away from you, but never did.

If he was there your mother wouldn't have hovered over you all night, slapping away your hand every time you tried to take a piece of cake or hiss something at you when you pulled at the itchy pink dress that she brought home three days ago, your least favorite color. When you got dressed for the party you felt like a porcelain doll in a China cabinet, made to be looked at, but never touched.

It wasn't too far off. Being the only daughter of one of the richest families that lived in Philadelphia your reputation and pedigree were two of the most important things to your mother. It meant that in a few years you would be married off to another rich family, have rich babies, and then put your own daughter through the same cycle of hell all over again.

Suitors were already beginning to trickle into your life, sons of your father’s business partners each screened by your mother before the introductory meetings where you felt bored, stiff,  choked by the thick fabric of the dresses your mother picked out, and plastered with makeup. All of course the best of Europe, which you had no idea how your mother managed to get given that there was a war on.

Ben was the only thing in your life that wasn't planned and you loved him for it.

You look up at the dark corner of your room to get a view of the long shadows that creep along the bedroom floor, and cut through the light coming from the gas lantern on your bedside table. You try to distinguish the sharp edges and smooth curves and watch them take shape beneath the ministrations of your pencil against the page.

Art was your only escape, the only thing you did that your mother approved of.

"A proper lady should have a hobby." She had sniffed, but then narrowed her eyes at the graphite and ink stains on you hands.

Part of the fun is the mess. You had thought to yourself watching her disapproving look.

A tap on your window makes you lift your gaze from the page and look towards the window seat that faces out the third story of your home onto the street below.

Ben is crouched there on the ledge that juts out only a foot from the outer brick wall a wide smile on his face that you can't help but return. You had been friends since you were both eight, when your parents threw yet another party and you found Ben in one of the side rooms trying to avoid his father. When his father tried to come in to find him, you lied and said you hadn't seen Ben.

And when his mother died two years later, Ben would show up some nights, scaling the large tree outside your window to stay with you. He never wanted to talk about it and you never asked, instead you talked about everything else until you both fell asleep.

You felt your heart thud loudly in your chest and a familiar warmth tracing lightly against your skin when you lock eyes with him. It was hard to be in love with your best friend. But you were, and you couldn't tell him. You didn't want to ruin the only meaningful relationship you'd ever had in your life. Ben knew everything about you, you trusted him and you couldn't imagine what it would be like to live your life without him, didn't want to.

Sometimes you hoped he felt the same way. When you woke up before him in the morning and the light from the window made his hair lighter and he held you close to his chest because in his sleep he had wrapped his arm around you. You liked to pretend that he did it on purpose, not just because there was barely any room between the two of you in your bed because now you both weren't as small as you used to be. You don’t know when Ben got so broad, tall, and muscular, but now it was impossible to ignore, especially being pressed against his chest when you woke.

 It was improper to be that close in bed together of course, but you didn't care. You didn't care what other people thought about him or you. He was your best friend, and although you wished for more, you wouldn't turn your back on him just because other people thought he was trouble.

Which he was.

You put your sketchbook down and go to the window to unlock it. "Ben what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss your birthday." He smirks as you take his hand to help him into your bedroom.

"What about school?"

"Wasn't a good fit." Ben pushes his dark hair out of his eyes and you try not to think about what it would be like to do it yourself.

"Uh-huh. What you're really saying is that you flunked out of another boarding school just to make it back for my birthday. Right?" You laugh.

"Thought it would be a nice birthday surprise." He leans forward with a smirk. "Would you like to unwrap your present?"

You roll your eyes and raise a hand to push him back, but he catches it against his chest.

"Come on. You're telling me that you didn't miss me? Not even a little?" Ben pretends to be hurt.

Of course you missed him. When he wasn't there it felt like apart of you was gone, but you couldn't tell him that. You knew that Ben didn't feel the same way. He was just flirty, all the time.

"No."

"Liar." He says. "How was the big party?"

"Oh it was the bee's knees." You snark. "I danced with Howard Stine and he stepped on my toes, my mother didn't let me eat and bought me a ridiculous dress-"

"Let me guess, pink?"

"Pink and ruffly. I looked like a giant cupcake."

"I'm sure Howard loved it." Ben sing-songs.

"Shut up." You punch his arm. "He's not that bad-"

"With a boring name like Howard, imagine how boring he'd be in-"

"Big talk from a guy named Benjamin." You interrupt.

The look in Ben's eyes darkens for a minute. "I'd be happy to prove you wrong."

You shake your head at him to stop the flush in your cheeks and avoid the way your breath catches in your chest at his words.

It would be so easy to give in to him, but you knew that Ben didn't see you that way. Ben had chased after anything and everything that caught his eye. If you were to give in, you were afraid of what would happen after. Ben was your best friend and if you crossed that line what would it mean?

"You're incorrigible."

"If that's another word for gorgeous then yes, yes I am."

You turn back to the bed and where your sketchbook waits, trying to calm your racing heart.

"But you don't want your birthday present?" Ben asks from behind you.

"What happened to you being the present?"

"I am a gift, but I did get you something."

You turn and see that Ben is holding out a package wrapped in gold paper a little bit larger than a book. Surprise momentarily spikes at the back of your mind. Ben had gotten you gifts in the past, but you hadn't expected one this year, especially since he just got out of boarding school.

"Did you steal it?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Not this time."

You take the box from his hand and sit down on your bed to peel back the paper. "I can't believe you actually wrapped this."

"The saleswoman did. Now she was really-"

"Don't need to know." You shake your head with a smile, eyes still on the gift. When you finally pull back the paper you can't help but smile. It's a box of watercolor paints, a package of brushes, and a small pad of watercolor paper. "Ben-" You look up at him with a wide smile. "Thank you!"

 "Do you like them?" Ben asks hesitantly, he looks almost nervous.

"I love them! I've never tried to paint before."

"I know. I remember said you wanted to try. Plus I thought you could do some nice nudes of me in color-" Ben smirks.

"Ben!" You snort.

“I’m just trying to help you learn how to draw anatomy.” He wets his lips with his tongue arching an eyebrow in a challenge. “Of course there are more fun ways that I could teach you that.”

“Ben!” You flush bright red.

“Sorry. Sometimes you’re too easy.”

“I don’t know why I put up with you.” You shake your head at him with a smile.

An odd look crosses his face, but it disappears as quickly as you see it.

"Honestly, thank you. I can't wait to try these out." You look back down at the paints, admiring the silver box they came in.

"You're welcome."

Ben hovers by the window at the edge of your room as if debating whether or not he should stay. After all these years you noticed that Ben had trouble with the idea that you genuinely wanted him there. You knew it stemmed from his father's constant disapproval and his father's constant need to push him away, and it made your heart break for him.

And yes, maybe Ben did fill his life with brief flings and alcohol, but he was still your Ben.

"You’re going to stay right? Because you’ve already missed my birthday and I’d like to know how you got kicked out of boarding school number five.”

He nods once a small smile quirking the edge of his lips before he removes the dark jacket with the embossed prestigious logo of the aforementioned boarding school. It catches on his shoulders and you look away before he can see your blush.

“Are you hungry?”

Ben shakes his head.

“Ben, when was the last time you put something in your stomach besides alcohol?” You raise an eyebrow. He couldn’t lie to you and you knew he was only saying no because he didn’t want you to have to creep downstairs in the dark and also because he didn’t want to admit that he was hungry.

“Earlier.” He says it with a shrug, looking down at the coat in his hands to avoid your gaze.

“Well I was going to go see if I could find some of that birthday cake anyway. I haven’t eaten since this morning and all I had was half a grapefruit.”

“Another diet?” Ben frowns.

“Mother thinks I can slim down a little more. Says that I’d get more suitors if my hips were not so big.” You try not to dwell too much on it, you’d been dealing with your mother’s constant berating  since you were born. The corset you’d worn at the party was so tight that it left bruises on your hips and under your arms, but your mother had been pleased with how it looked. “She won’t be happy until I’m thinner than a chicken bone I suppose.” Instead of looking at Ben you stand and turn to look at yourself in the full length mirror in the corner. You never thought that your hips were too big or that your chest was, yes you were more curvy than any of your friends but you liked it.

"You shouldn't listen to her."

You shrug.

"I'm serious y/n. You're-" Ben stops talking.

"What?" You turn to look at him again eyes wide and open.

"Well you're-" Ben looks nervous again, tightening his hands on the dark jacket. He swallows. "You're not fat." Ben finishes.

"Well I don't think I'm fat Ben, but thank you." You can't help but be a little disappointed with his answer, you were hoping that he would say that you were beautiful.

My mother thinks I’m fat. You try not to wince when you think it, but instead you focus back on Ben.

"Alright, stay here. Try not to wake my parents up."

"Trust me that's the last thing on my mind doll."

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[luca-street-chris-deacon-rp]

@ofmymanymuses

For seven years Luca had been undercover in prison as an inmate and in that time he had committed acts as a prisoner to retain his cover and it was perfectly legal. But for the last seven years he hadn't accepted a single visitor or replied to a letter and to keep up with the pretense, he had gone through the process of parole to keep his cover up with the guards and once he would he released he would be reinstated into SWAT after a break, some therapy or whatever it took to get him back on track and already he was struggling to even think of going back to his real life.

The officers who were dealing with the active case were the only ones who visited, under the guise of being lawyers which the Warden and Department of Justice knew, but none of the corrections officers knew in case it slipped out and put Luca at risk.

But for once he accepted a visitor and he wasn't sure how he felt about seeing Fallon for the first time in seven years.

He shuffled along the corridor towards the private interview room where he was told his lawyer would be waiting for him, a completely private consultation with no audio recording, video recording or witnesses to whatever took place. His ankles were shackled and connected to his waist and his hands were cuffed in front of him as he was led into the interview room. He avoided Fallon's gaze, embarrassed that she was seeing him in this position because he knew that both her and the team had heard about his antics and behaviour within the prison, becoming a gang enforcer because it was part of his orders. He sat down at the opposite side of the table and his wrists were roughly attached the huge metal loop on the table, the handcuffs digging into his wrists and his face showed the discomfort.

The corrections officer left them to it and sat defeated as his gaze was fixed on the table.

[captainsophiestark]

Hopeful Future

Stephen Strange x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Requested by anon!

Fandom: Marvel

Day Eight Prompt: "Are we happy?"

Summary: Strange's SO has been struggling since he disappeared in the Blip, but an unexpected visitor to the New York Sanctum might be able to help with that.

Word Count: 1,199

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I took a deep breath as I tipped the water can over the nearest flower bed. I'd been advised that keeping a garden might help me cope with my grief. So far, it hadn't really helped. But I guess it hadn't hurt, either.

What had started as a few sunflowers had grown into multiple planter boxes, all outside the brownstone next door to the New York Sanctum Sanctorum. Hardly anyone came and went through either front door anymore, but by the well-tended garden, you'd never know it.

Honestly, I should've moved years ago. Lingering in a place that my fiancé, Stephen Strange, and I had shared before the Blip was almost certainly making it harder for me to deal with him being gone. A lot of the people around me had moved on in the past few years, but I couldn't help holding on. Maybe it had something to do with the magic that had always surrounded us, but for whatever reason, I just didn't want to leave this place behind.

I sighed, straightening the watering can and turning to take care of the flowers outside the Sanctum. I froze in my tracks when I saw the front door just closing, someone apparently having snuck in while I had my back turned. I frowned.

Nobody was really supposed to be going through that door anymore. The only exception was Wong, and I knew he would've stopped to say hi to me. I set my watering can down, then headed for the front door.

Maybe I should've been a little more cautious, but seeing somebody sweeping through the door to the Sanctum had set me off a lot more than I thought it would. I quickly pushed my way inside, shutting the door behind me as my eyes swept the entryway. When I saw a figure about halfway up the stairs, I froze solid in my tracks.

He had dark hair, a very familiar red cloak, and held himself in a way that I'd recognize from a mile away. And he'd frozen on the staircase, too.

"...You weren't supposed to see me."

His voice was equally unmistakable. Somehow, Stephen was standing in front of me.

I rushed towards the stairs, my mind racing. Stephen turned around slowly at the sound of my footsteps, a grimace on his face. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to kiss him or kick his ass, but when I reached him, I went with my gut and wrapped him up in a tight hug. He sighed, but his arms came up to wrap around my back.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you're real," I breathed, tears streaking down my face. I hadn't even realized I'd started crying, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop anytime soon. "How are you real? You got Blipped out of existence! Tony Stark told me himself!"

I pulled back to look him in the eyes, but he kept his arms around my waist, not letting me go too far. He looked almost as pained as I felt, and it made me want to hit him again.

"I did disappear with the Blip. I'm... cheating a little with the time stream right now. It's a long story, but I need something in the future that can only be found in the Sanctum of the past—your present."

"Ugh, you're giving me a headache," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. Stephen huffed a soft laugh, and a minute later, his words finally sank in. My eyes snapped open as I tried to contain a kernel of hope appearing in my chest against my will. "Wait. Did you say... you came from the future?"

Stephen took a deep breath, his eyes searching my face. Then, after a moment, he huffed and rolled his eyes.

"The less information you have the safer we keep our timeline, but... yes. I did. Give it another year or so, but this Blip isn't going to be permanent. Other friends of ours figure out how to bring everyone back."

I stepped back, my mouth dropping open, and Stephen let me go. I blinked at him a few times, waiting for a sign that he was a hallucination or otherwise just messing with me, but none came. He met my eyes with a steady stare, absolute calm and certainty in his expression.

A sob welled up in my chest, and I didn't hold it back. I surged forward again, holding Stephen tight, then moving back just enough to kiss him. He kissed back, holding me tight and rubbing comforting circles on my back as long as I needed it.

When I finally calmed down, Stephen's arms still tight around me, I took a shaky breath and met his eyes again.

"What can I do? How can I help bring you back? Is there a way to bring you back faster? It's probably Rogers or somebody I need to call first, right?"

"Sweetheart." He interrupted me with a gentle squeeze of my sides and I stopped, looking at him questioningly. "I appreciate that you want to bring me back. And I wish you didn't have to go through this at all. But you can't make it go any faster. I know the path and the timeline that brings us back, and I know you're not involved in it. Maybe if you got involved, it would've gone faster. Maybe not. But I can't check, because I don't have the time stone anymore. I shouldn't even be talking to you right now, but it's critical that you don't change anything in the timestream. And that includes not talking to Rogers or anyone else about the fact that you saw me."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, focusing on the feel of Stephen's arms around me. I knew he was right. I'd studied enough of the books in this Sanctum looking for ways to bring him back that I knew how finnicky the timestream could get. But still, it didn't make it any easier to face the prospect of letting him go, right here and now, and waiting at least another year to get him back.

"Just tell me one thing," I said, at last opening my eyes again. I scanned Stephen's face as he nodded, waiting for me to continue. "Are we happy? When you come back, with whatever else is happening... are we happy?"

The corner of Stephen's mouth pulled up, the corners of his eyes crinkling. My heart leapt as he pulled me closer, leaning in until his mouth was inches from mine. I could feel his breath against my lips as he spoke.

"You know I can't tell you details but... yes. We're happy."

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head even as I smiled and kissed Stephen again. He smiled into the kiss, too, the two of us holding each other tight. I knew he'd probably seen me recently, maybe right before he'd come here, but I hadn't seen him in years. Being in his arms again, and even better, knowing we had a future together beyond this moment, was an absolute dream come true.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[starshipsofstarlord]

Little Rascal

The pack discovers that Peter has a life that he cares about hidden in Beacon Hills. A wife and a son that they have never before met (1.4k)

Warnings - fluff, pet names, dad!Peter, brief mention of murder and sex, Peter’s secret little life, threats, season 4 based yet loosely different with how Peter goes about working with Scott, deadpool

peter hale masterlist main masterlist more teen wolf

To say that Peter was glad to be home, away from all of the chaos that he contributed within the McCall pack, was a dangerous understatement. He hates being away from his own little world, for he cared for those he had in it, and he was a whole different person whilst he was there.

Home, it was the first time in a long duration of such where he felt as though he could call a place that. But it wasn’t just the environment, it was also those that lived in it alongside him, he loved the mundane aspects, how he could relax on the sofa and not have to worry about the ghosts that were in his scorned past.

“Honey Bee.” Peter called out to his sentimental lover; the only one he could love other than his troublesome young son. The dismissive clatter of dishes reached his ears as they were placed in the kitchen basin, and his love came to stand before him as he was seated on the couch, a tiny monster of his own creation clasped with his arms around his mothers legs.

“Yes darling?” She spoke softly to him, combing through her son’s dark locks with her maternal fingers, and the sight made the big bad wolf smile a real smile, one of happy content. Y/N’s head was cocked to the side as she enquired on why he called for her presence, and the man stood, untangling his child from around his wife’s legs and brought him up into his arms.

Taryn was weightless, yet he weighed down Peter’s heart heavy with loving adoration. He could not wait until he and Y/N procreated another little critter that would run around their home just the same as the one he held did. It was the best thing to ever happen to him, being a father.

He had not watched Malia grow up, and that was nothing short of a shame, but now he had the chance to do better and be there as he was more than well aware of the ever encompassing presence of his youngest child.

“I-“ before he could speak on what he had planned, there was an ever so stiff knock rattling on the front door to his secret haven. A derelict sigh made the man roll his tortured eyes as he steadied Taryn more securely upon his hip, pressing a firm peck to his wife’s temple before stepping towards the entrance to their home and unlocking the barrier that protected all that he cared for to onlooking eyes.

And there on the other side was formidably confused pack members, of which he occasionally aided, his only surviving nephew included. His arm propped more securely around his son as he glared with lack of impression, bemused about his unexpected visitors.

They shouldn’t have been here, he hadn’t even let them know the whereabouts of his address, and thus they must have tracked his scent to here. “Can I help you?” The old alpha scowled, his expression creasing even more when Derek dared to take a step closer. “That’s your son.” His raven haired nephew stated, picking up on the boy’s familiar scent.

“You have a kid, other than Malia?” Stiles retorted, feeling rather glad that his werecoyote girlfriend had not accompanied them to their destination. Scott too was rather surprised, he had expected that Peter had nothing driving his life other than a blood lust for power, however it appeared that they had all been wrong. There was a piece of him that was surprisingly human, and it was something that none of them had ever expected to uncover.

After all he had done, perhaps he had committed his wrong doings for another reason than vengeance; he was protecting his own little pack. “Peter, we need your help.” Scott stated with his soft alpha demeanour, understanding if he were unwilling to give his aid at this particular time. He had never been a fan of Peter, not after changing him to be a werewolf against his will, and especially not after threatening the lives of those he cared about, but he had to admit, he conditioned a heart felt feeling for the man. It wasn’t quite happiness, but it wasn’t not happiness either.

“I guess you’ve caught me in a good mood.” It was something the pack members had rarely witnessed, Peter was hardly generous, but he wanted to try and be a good example for his son. “Come on in - but don’t make yourselves at home. I’d prefer for this to not take too long.”

At least his blunt honesty wasn’t peculiar behaviour, and thus with wary footsteps Stiles was forced by Scott’s hand upon the back of his shoulder to enter the home of Peter Hale. “What’s your kid’s name?” Derek asked, curious about his newly discovered cousin. The kid shyly bowed his head, his locks falling before his eyes as Peter placed him like a feather on the floor.

Taryn was preferable to remain in Peter’s shadow. Tucking his hands around his father’s legs as he adapted to the strangers that his father had invited inside. Without hesitancy, despite the company he had, Peter crouch’s down and comforted his son. “It’s okay, you can introduce yourself. These are… some friends of mine.” He’d have rather proclaimed them as acquaintances however that would unsettle Taryn, and it wasn’t exactly the truth.

“My name is Taryn.” The spawn of Scott’s first enemy quietly spoke, making his father proud for doing so. “Why don’t you go to your room son, I’ll be right in after talking to my friends.” The boy needn’t be told twice, he was shy, especially around the rare amount of strangers he had met, and so he gladly trotted off down the hallway, giddy for his ‘daddy’s friends’ leave.

Peter stood up straighter and cleared his throat. “What is it that you needed from me?” His stoic demeanour returned as he expectedly awaited an answer to those that brought constant chaos into his now calm life. “Perhaps to know who would have a child with you, the mass murderer that went around the town killing only for it all to be blamed on a mountain lion.” Stiles scoffed, shocked that someone would willingly procreate with such a monster.

“That would be me.” A voice startled the sarcastic boy, one of feminine grace and beauty which astounded Stiles whom was gasping at the sight of the goddess like creature that stalked in the room before them. “Do we have a problem here darling, or do I need to rip a tongue or two out to bring some quiet back to our home?” Her eyebrows raised as she glowered upon the folk that were crowded in the entryway, looking to her husband for confirmation.

“It’s fine Y/N.” It wasn’t very often that Peter called her by her name, however he was on edge for the seriousness that was contorting the faces of the pack members. “But what I am wanting to know is what isn’t fine, since I assume that’s what you lot were going to tell me.” Derek inhaled through his nose as Scott stepped closer, understanding that the threat was far larger to Peter than he had earlier anticipated.

“There’s a dead pool for supernatural creatures. They are going to try and kill us for money, your money in fact. And I’m willing to bet your family are on the other parts of the list; so, are you willing to help us protect our kind, or will you run, like you always do? I’d understand if you did the latter, I never knew you had a son and a…”

“Wife.” Y/N finished the sentence for Scott, crossing her arms as she stood closer to her husband. “If you need help, you have mine, I will do anything to protect my son.” It was unexpected however Derek nodded in appreciation for her words. Peter weaved his fingers through hers as he ogled worryingly at his beauty, and he was the beast, a beast that was to be hunted and fighting for the life of his family.

“Our son.” He spoke humbly, becoming protective as he thought of all he had to lose. “Just tell us what you want us to do Scott, but remember, our priority is Taryn, his life is more important than any other to us. I will not save a life if it means risking his, but we will do our best.”

“I understand.” Scott said harmlessly, for the first time gracing his maker with a smile. None of this would have tied the alpha up in this mess if Peter had never bitten him, however there was nothing for him to do that would erase that past. “And thank you, I’m glad that we’re on the same side when it comes to this.”

[creepyrasta]

Stalking the Stalker

So this is my very first Ticci Toby x Reader story.

RATED M

.

.

.

.

.

It was another usual evening as you lay in bed. You’re absentmindedly turning a smooth, flat stone over in your hand as the sound of a cheesy laugh-track crackles through the tv static across the room. You can’t stand this show. You glance at the remote before snatching it up to hit the power button, letting out a huff. A cool breeze drifts in through the open window and the sound of rain picks up outside, but as you listen, there’s another sound— one that would send a shiver down anyone else’s spine— but not yours. Leaves crunch below the window, undoubtedly the sound of footsteps. A sly smile crosses your lips as you listen, you know exactly who it is. The sound continues on for a few minutes before it fades out, leaving you with the sliver of knowledge that your nightly visitor had just made his rounds and was likely headed back to his hideout deep in the forest.

This had gone on for a while now, and upon discovering who this person was, you became excited in a morbid sense.

You remembered him from the store down the street— a tall, lanky young man with dark curly hair and even darker eyes obscured by round orange glasses. He’d kept his face partially covered by a cloth he wore around his neck, giving him quite a mysterious demeanor. Your memories take you back to that evening when you saw him again, only after hearing the same sounds outside your window as on this particular night— The sound of footsteps drew closer to the side of your house for the fifth day in a row now, and you knew you just had to look this time. Without turning on the bathroom light, you crept inside to go to the window, which happened to be on the same side as your bedroom. You slowly peeked around the side of the window frame to catch a glimpse of the man with the covered face you’d accidentally bumped into at the shop down the road. He appeared to be trying to peer into your bedroom window. You noticed he was armed with two hatchets that hung from some kind of holster around his waist— and those same orange glasses over his eyes. You smiled to yourself, somewhat flattered, but at the same time it intrigued you to the core. You needed to find out more about this guy, and why he was stalking you.

You grin, getting up from your bed to shut off the light. Little does he know you’ve been following his every move whenever he’s busy doing anything besides watching you… He has no idea what he is getting himself into. You get back into bed, not bothering to close the window as you faintly hear the footsteps receding.

A few more weeks of your stalking game went on, and he would show up either with or without your knowledge, possibly entering your home while you slept for all you knew. But you’d tracked his movements to a small building way out in the woods, not particularly far from where you lived. You would watch through the windows as he engaged in various activities— everything from sharpening those hatchets he carried everywhere, to some rather… intimate events he would indulge in frequently, with a photo you couldn’t quite see the contents of gripped tightly in one hand. You should’ve felt embarrassed or ashamed for witnessing it, but for whatever reason, it only spurred you on in this sort of sick game the two of you were caught in. It didn’t take very long for you to come up with a plan, assuming he had one in mind as well… It would only be a matter of who was faster when it came to taking action.

Putting on your dark colored sweatshirt and boots, you prepare to venture out into the woods where you know he will be lurking. You have a knife tucked away in the big pocket of your hoodie, but no real intention of using it unless it’s absolutely necessary. You have something a little different in mind.

It’s almost dark outside when you reach the path that leads to his little shack. To the untrained eye, the trail looks like one used by animals rather than people, barely there unless one knows what to look for. You follow it with light, cautious steps until you come to the beginning of the clearing where his home is located.

Then, you see him.

He seems to be about to head in your direction, which isn’t exactly ideal, but you will improvise. You crouch down behind a large bush at the edge of the clearing, watching him move closer and closer until he’s almost right next to you. He abruptly stops walking then to look around, but he quickly decides to keep moving, and that’s when you make your first move— you swiftly stand to take off running towards the shack, instantly catching his attention with the sudden sound and motion. He stands there for a moment in what you can only assume to be shock, before you hear him chasing after you. You let him catch up to you, turning swiftly to stand face to face with him as he stares at you, his dark eyes visible behind those orange lenses in the moonlight, scanning over your face.

“W-What are you doing out here?” he questions, noting your lack of fear. That’s different, he thinks. You both begin to move slowly, keeping distance between you, it is reminiscent of sharks circling their prey.

“Same thing you were about to do,” you smirk knowingly, glancing down at his empty hands, fully aware of how close they are to his weapons.

“So you-you know I’ve been following you?” he asks, fascinated. His head tilts to one side slightly while he continues to move, never taking his eyes off you.

You nod. “Yes, and I’ve been following you, Toby,”

He chuckles then, a deep sound from within his chest, “So, wh-what are you gonna do about it?”

You stop moving, taking a step straight towards him as you make to answer. “Well, you see… I was just getting to that part,”

His eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher before you lunge at him. His hands shoot out to attempt grabbing at you, but you whirl out of his reach, your eyes trained on the hatchet on his left hip. You know exactly what you want, and you are going to do it.

“I’m af-afraid it won’t be so easy,” Toby says amusedly, taking the hatchet from his right side to hold it up in front of him, turning it in his hand before looking past the blade of it at you.

“We’ll see,” you challenge him, ready for whatever will come next. This time it’s Toby who advances on you, and to say he’s fast is an understatement. Within the split second it takes for him to close the distance between you, he draws back to swing the blunt end of the hatchet, but you manage to grip his wrists when he brings it down; it narrowly misses your shoulder as you dodge the hit. You waste no time in giving his legs a hard kick, leaning just out of his reach when he falls and tries to grab ahold of you. You’re able to knock the remaining holstered hatchet out of its place in the same motion. It thuds to the forest floor and you instantly snatch it up, grinning down at him wickedly. His gaiter had fallen down around his neck during the scuffle, revealing his scarred face. He looks up at you with a bewildered expression, curious to see what you might do next. You really hadn’t been lying about following him, huh? With the way you anticipated nearly every move he made, it was evident.

“Are you flirting with me?” he asks suddenly, a lopsided grin stretching across his lips.

You flash him with a sly smirk before drawing back with the wooden end of the hatchet to knock him out.

“Easy enough,” you huff, raking your eyes over his unconscious form.

XXX

Your room is quiet except for the sound of the wind as it ruffles through the tree outside your window. You sit beside your bed, where Toby is carefully tied to the metal bed frame by his wrists and ankles— not so much for safety purposes… Mostly, uh, something else.

About a half hour passes by before you start to hear him stirring, his deep brown eyes flutter open to look at you and you’re glad for the absence of those orange glasses then. He almost smiles at the sight of you, but as he goes to move, he realizes he can’t. You see a very brief flash of something—panic, maybe?— cross his features. “Wh-what’s this all about?” he demands, his eyes wide.

“Relax, will you? You might even enjoy what I’ve got planned for you,” you answer smoothly, standing up from your chair. He watches you move closer, until you’re right at the edge of the bed beside him. You slowly climb onto the mattress and straight onto his lap to straddle his hips.

Toby clears his throat, looking up at you with lidded eyes now. “O-Oh… So it’s like that, i-is it?” he continues, relaxing; his eyebrows raising as he stares into your eyes. The feeling of having someone so deadly at your mercy is a heady feeling, to say the least. Without warning, you reach up with one hand to lace your fingers into his soft curly hair, tugging his head back to expose his neck. You lean down to begin licking and sucking over his pulse, and Toby’s breath hitches sharply. You smirk against his skin before grinding your hips into his, this time earning a gasp, “C-Come on, Y/N… This is no fair,”

You lean back to meet his now hazy eyes, smiling sweetly. “If this is about fairness, well… I did catch you first, after all,” you cast him a mischievous smile, “You’re mine, fair and square.”

He grins impishly at your words, realizing how much he’s actually enjoying this power dynamic. You watch his wrists strain against the ropes he’s tied with while you continue to slowly rock against him, hearing every sound he makes in response. You move in close to kiss him deeply, and he wishes he could touch you then, having dreamt of this moment many times before where his hands are gently squeezing you in all the best places.

“Mm, fuck..!” he hisses against your lips when you grind down on him particularly hard, his gaze intense as he watches you pull away, almost making you feel intoxicated. Toby is honestly quite surprised to find that you might be just as deranged as himself in this particular way. He never would’ve imagined things turning out the way they currently are, especially with the tables turned on him… It’s really something else.

“I’m gonna show you what happens when you stalk a stalker, Toby,” you say in a near-whisper as you sit up, your hand slowly unzipping his sweatshirt to smooth over the black skintight material of his shirt. He looks like he’s about to comment, a smirk forming on his lips, but the words catch in his throat when he feels your fingers trace over his belly and then down to the bulge in the front of his pants, where you lightly squeeze. He closes his eyes as his hips buck against your touch. This was all just so unexpected.

“You-You’re really driving me wi-wild here, y’know…” he says in an almost strained voice. You begin to unbuckle the belt around his hips, and then the front of his pants where you pull them down enough to free his throbbing cock. It’s just how you remember it from watching him touch himself all those times, but now you will be the one to control his pleasure. His lips are parted while he watches you wrap your fingers around his length, beginning a slow pace of strokes.

“So, tell me… What’s that picture you look at when you do this to yourself?” You ask lowly, eyes glinting playfully as if you already know the answer, but just want to hear him to say it.

Toby bites his bottom lip and his eyebrows knit together when you squeeze his cock tighter, stroking him faster.

Christ, you really know how to get him all riled up, don’t you? Between hearing that you watched him masturbate and the way his dick is currently in your hand—both of those things at the same time— Toby can’t decide what excites him more; it’s almost too much.

“I-it’s… Your picture that I-I stole,” he stammers, his breath quickening with every motion of your hand. This makes you smile in delight.

“Such a naughty boy, you are…” You purr, feeling his dick pulse as you speak. You suddenly remove your hand and Toby whines softly, his brown eyes curiously moving up to your face. His eyes widen when he sees you begin to move down his body until you’re level with his cock, he swallows hard.

“Oh, most def-definitely,” he says playfully, wetting his lips. “Make sure y-you punish me good,” he chuckles, finding himself so insanely turned on by what is about to happen. His body tenses when you swirl your tongue over the head of his length, looking into his eyes as you do so. You notice his jaw clench as you begin to suck only the sensitive tip of him. He lets his head fall back against the pillows on your bed with a loud moan, overcome with the sensation of suddenly slipping down your throat, you start to suck him mercilessly.

“F-Fuck, Y/N..! I’m gonna.. gonna cum,” he gasps breathlessly, then lets out a tortured groan as you let his cock slide out of your mouth. You smile up at him, your hand moving to lightly squeeze his balls.

“Not until I say so,” you inform him, lightly tracing your tongue up the length of him. You’re loving the idea that Toby has no clue that he is about to be pushed to the limits as you take him down your throat once again, bringing him back to the edge of cumming before you pull away again. You repeat this process about twelve more times, alternating between using your hands and mouth, until Toby finally is able to muster words.

“Holy fu-fuck.. Please, Y/N, let me cum. Please… I’ll do wh-whatever you want,” he begs, his chest heaving and his face reddened from all of your teasing. You hum softly, admiring the sight of him beneath you.

“Good boy,” you say, satisfied with his pleading. You finally let him slip past your lips, and he shudders. This time you swallow his cock, your hands smoothing over his stomach as you feel his entire body arch into your touch. His breathing turns to a series of gasps as thick ropes of hot cum shoot straight down your throat. Toby lets out an animalistic moan, his hips jerking under you; you continue to gently milk him, drawing out the intense feelings of his release.

Once he is mostly still, you slowly climb up to face level with him. “How’d you like that?” you ask slyly, grinning at him.

All Toby can manage is a whimper in response, still trying to catch his breath.

“I’m not done with you yet though,” you whisper against his neck.

[matan4il]

Update post:

The International Court of Justice has rejected the request of South Africa to stop any future Israeli military activity in Rafah. The provisional measures that were given less than a month ago still stand, and the ICJ determined for now, they're enough, while also saying Israel does have to comply with them (I think it's funny to say Israel has to do something it was already doing, but okay).

After Israeli Minister of Defense presented the names of, and info on, 12 UNRWA workers who were a part of the Hamas massacre, he also shared that at least 30 more UNRWA workers were personally involved in assissting the massacre or participating in post-massacre terrorist activity (such as kidnapping living or murdered Israelis, keeping the hostages imprisoned, or moving them from one hiding place to another). You can find more info on the extensive ties of UNRWA workers with Palestinian terrorist organizations in my UNRWA tag.

In continuation to this, a video was published showing an UNRWA worker, called Faisal Ali Musalam Naami, with the help of another Hamas terrorist, kidnapping the body of a murdered Israeli to Gaza. Israel has indicated that Naami was a social worker, and was eliminated by the IDF on Oct 16. BTW, I saw the vid first airing on Israeli TV before they realized they hadn't blurred the body. I can't even explain what it was like watching it, something about seeing the sagging limbs being dragged just made the whole thing even more inhumane, so the impact is different than if you only watch the blurred vid, as much as I know it was done to preserve the dignity of that murdered man, and as much as I agree with that.

I mentioned the other day that the IDF has arrested at least 60 terrorists from among the people coming out of the Nasser hospital in Khan Younis. This number has now been updated to 100 terrorists. Among them, the Palestinian reporters have claimed that the Nasser hospital director was arrested as well, but the IDF has denied this. In comparison, the IDF announced it officially on Nov 23 when it did arrest the director of the Shifa hospital director due to his collaboration with Hamas.

In addition to IDF soldiers finding a copy of Hitler's Mein Kampf among the possessions of a Hamas terrorist in Gaza, we have now been presented with another antisemitic conspircay book found there. This time, it's a book called (in Arabic) 'End of the Jews' and it was written by Hamas' co-founder, who is also the former Foreign Minister of the Palestinian Authority.

The book's cover is described as showing "swords and daggers piercing through Stars of David, and Jews drowning in blood."

As antisemitism continues to rise all around the world, at the same time that people deny its very nature, the Jewish Book Council has launched an initiative to track down antisemitic incidents targeting Jewish authors, both those who are pro-Israel and those who are accused of it in spite of being silent about the Jewish state, or targeting the Jewish visitors at book events.

In Israel's northern community of Margaliot, a chicken coop was attacked by Hezbollah fire, and an entire flock was killed. In an interview, the coop owner said he doesn't believe the place can be restored. The on going attacks by Hamas on Israel's southern agricultural communities, and by Hezbollah on Israel's northern ones, when taken together, is a real threat to the food security of all 9.8 million Israeli citizens.

This is 35 years old Matan Lior.

He provided the sound, illumination and electricity infrastructure at the Nova music festival. Because of his job there, he was among the last to leave the scene, guiding others to evacuate. When they found his corpse, it was in a car, bending over another women, trying to protect her with his own body. May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[flaggermuser]

Look At This Photograph

1,229 words || AU, Tender Threads timeline, Hurt/Comfort, GN Reader, Doctor Reader, Happy Ending, References to Childhood Trauma ||

A little gift for @sehtoast feat. Tawny (GN Reader)

It follows on from When You Loved Me

This is also unbeta'd so we are dying like kings

Tawny.

Ben had heard Homelander say your name enough times for him to become curious enough to meet you finally. He knew all about the bad room, the unending nightmare of experimentation that Homelander was subjected to as a child.

But he’d never heard about you before Homelander went ‘home’. Homelander even admitted that he didn’t know about you until he found that fateful file with your name.

Then he tracked you down.

And now, Ben stands with Homelander, patiently waiting for you to open the door. He notices how Homelander fiddles with his suit, almost nervously, as if his appearance must meet your approval.

The moment you open the door, Ben is slightly taken aback, able to hide his initial surprise quickly.

You’re nothing like the others in the lab.

“John!” Your arms fling open, and you pull Homelander into the tightest parental hug.

Hearing you say Homelander’s real name throws Ben off a little, something that, this time, he’s not able to hide. Yet he manages to collect himself enough to see how Homelander melts into you and your embrace.

“They love me,” Homelander explains with a smile. “They had to leave because they loved me.”

It seems to last for centuries, neither of you willing to let go of the other until Homelander eventually, and with much hesitation, pulls away first.

“Tawny, this is my boyfriend, Ben.”

Now your attention is on Ben, your lips curving into that warm smile that Homelander won’t stop raving about. Something undeniably nurturing about you makes Ben’s guard drop only slightly.

“Welcome, Ben. John has told me so much about you. Come on in.”

It’s precisely how Homelander described it in vast detail.

Everything from the slightly tasteless couch and armchair set to the mantlepiece covered in those ornate frames. Despite Homelander’s numerous attempts to explain how different you are, Ben remains on edge, ready to defend Homelander.

“A glass of milk for John, lemonade for Ben and some cookies for both.”

It feels strangely familiar, like when Ben used to visit his grandparents. It's a very simple but extremely loving gesture that makes Homelander practically beam with happiness.

“So Ben,” you begin. “Homelander has told me everything about you. It's so nice to meet you finally.” There you go again with that tone, filled with sincerity and unfathomable kindness. 

“Likewise,” Ben musters, still unsure. “It's a nice house you have.”

“I’m glad you think so. I try to keep it nice, although I don’t get many visitors. Well, I never used to.”

You reach across, taking Homelander’s hand and squeezing it as tightly as possible, looking at him with an adoring gaze. It's no wonder Homelander latched onto you as quickly as he did.

You give your love so freely - Homelander doesn't have to do anything to earn it.

It’s unconditional.

Homelander excuses himself, leaving Ben alone with you. He’s trying not to look at you; he doesn’t want you to notice how uneasy he is. Luckily, Homelander has been too preoccupied with you to notice how awkward Ben feels.

“You're uncomfortable, I can tell,” you state it as a fact but tenderly, attempting to ease the tension caused by Ben’s anxiety.

“I'm anxious too,” you confess. “I admit part of me worries that you think I'm unsuitable to be in John's life. He told me you know about the lab and what was done to him. I know you must have questions; I’ll do my best to answer.”

Can you read minds?

“Why did you join the project in the first place? Surely you knew what they were doing?”

“I didn't,” it's the truth. Ben can tell when people are lying. “I joined because it was advertised as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; I thought it would be something else.”

The first few tears prick your eyes. “I stayed because I couldn't leave him to cry alone in the dark at night. He needed someone to care for him, so I did my best.”

You sniff, barely able to utter another word before Homelander kneels at your feet, taking your hands in his and glaring at Ben.

“What did you say?” Homelander hisses, clearly angry that Ben made you cry.

“John,” saying his name draws his attention back to you.

Ben watches how you hold Homelander's face in your hands and look at him like he's the most precious thing in the world to you.

Ben sees it then - Homelander might not be your son by birth, but he is by circumstance.

You love him with all your heart.

“Don't be silly and get upset with Ben,” you continue. “He's just asking me questions about my time at the lab. Of course, I'll get a little sad; they’re painful memories, but it's fine, honestly. He loves you very much; he wouldn't ask me if he didn't. He wants to make sure I'm good enough for you.”

Homelander looks back at Ben, his eyes filled with regret, “I'm sorry, Ben. I'm just so…”

“Protective,” Ben finishes. “I know you are, Johnny. I'm sorry too, I just had all these questions and…”

“Ask them,” you respond. “Ask them all.”

It’s late.

Ben should have been snuggled up in bed with Homelander, but he couldn’t sleep until he did one final thing. 

He knocks on your door, rocking his heels while waiting on your porch, his hands clasping something behind his back. The hallway light turns on, the locks unlock, and the door opens a little, revealing your face. 

You quickly undo the locks, almost throwing open the door and grabbing Ben by the biceps, your face filled with worry

“Ben! Is everything okay?” Your voice trembles. “Are you hurt? Is John hurt? Has something happened?”

“No,” Ben splutters out. 

The worry melts away into a warm expression, and you happily welcome him again, only for Ben to stop you in the hall. He doesn’t want to go further; this is only a flying visit.

“I just came by, and I wanted to give you something,” he says, handing you a gift hastily wrapped in brown paper and string. He waits with bated breath as you open it.

Your eyes well up, and tears slowly fall down your cheeks as you cover your mouth with your hand, the other trembling while you hold the photograph.

It’s Ben and Homelander, sitting on the couch in Homelander’s penthouse with smiles on their faces. A private and tender moment captured forever and sealed in a simple frame. It’s clear from your reaction that this means a lot to you.

“Oh, Ben, this is wonderful,” you say, reaching out to grab his forearm. “Thank you so much. It’s going right on the mantle.”

“I’m sorry for earlier.”

“Nonsense.” The look in your eyes shows that this parental love extends to Ben. “You’re just looking out for John, and I appreciate that—truly, I do. He has some wounds that run very deep, those that will never heal and leave everlasting scars. I can only do so much. But he has you to help him through the pain.”

Ben wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair and softly sobbing. He feels silly for being so anxious about you and your intentions, but despite your past misdeed, you have the purest heart.

And you loving John as a parent loves a son is enough for Ben.