#and watch them fight and crawl from there positions only to become whats Needed

[haveyouseenmyhonor]

so much discourse over the 'dawn will come' scene

Regardless of intent to be a symbol, you have become one. You have become an item to which the people will look to. Religiously, systematically, even just hypothetically.

There is a damn hole in the sky with demons spewing forth every other minute - how are you supposed to raise an army? How are you supposed to keep the few military trained from abandoning? How are you meant to keep peace anywhere, let alone create a resistance to stop Gods and God Like Destruction?

Skipping it would be like skipping Ostagar. Many die in both and a new stage is created, one where the player has to take a mantel and play the part.

[hoshigray]

this shit came in my mind but imagine reader ties toji wrist behind his back and teases him like touching herself n shit and he’s desperate and hard asf but reader not giving him any frictions just small touches to get him riled up and somehow toji unties the rope and rest in peace her and her pussy 🪦💕

we all love hardcore dom toji with degrading and oversim kink 💕💕

yes we do, yes we do~

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: hardcore dom! Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - restricted movement (m! + f! receiving); use of rope - teasing - Daddy kink - masturbation (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - impact play (pussy + ass slaps) - backshots position - multiple orgasms - degradation (broad, slut, whore) - dumbification - clitoral play (licking/sucking) - overstimulation - use of a BDSM collar - pet names (baby, good girl, mama). 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

He has a salacious grin plastered on his face. “You know it’s gonna take more than just one lil’ rope, right?”

You giggled, “Well, guess we’re testing your limits tonight.”

Toji sits on his knees on the hardwood bedroom floor, wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants, his bulky arms constricted behind his back as his wrists are restrained by a red rope, additionally tying his thumbs together. Other than this lies a black collar that slings around his neck, a leash that you twirl around your pretty fingers is connected to the ring part. 

You sit at the edge of the bed, wearing your undies and an oversized sweatshirt — his sweatshirt that you snatched the moment he took it off. Your eyes look down at him, a thing that rarely happens. And now that it’s happening, you take your time savoring it. “Just sit there and watch. No touchy, and no breaking that rope.”

He quirks a brow up. “Who made ya the one givin’ orders around here?”

“Me, of course; I’m the one who tied you up,” you lightly tug the rein, prompting Toji to bend a little closer. His jade eyes darken, and you can’t fight the smile that creeps on your face. “Be a good boy and enjoy the show, all right?”

He doesn’t answer, just watching you begin. You start by spreading your legs, exposing the region of your inner thighs and the cute design of your stripped panties. Your fingers crawl down to underwear, swiping up and down on the material to push between your vaginal folds. The wetness warming up causes a spot to form.

You can see Toji’s eyes follow every movement, tilting his head when your forefinger rubs a circle on your clothed clit. Your fingers then decide to sneak inside your undies, your wet cunt meeting your intruding digits. He glances back to your face when you release a soft moan and chuckles. “Enjoyin’ yourself, mama?”

“Mhmm, and you?” Your toes go to his chin, lifting his head. 

The action had his smirk broaden. “Ya sure gettin’ a kick outta this, huh.”

You don’t give him a response – you don’t need to. You’re in control now; he’s the one who should behave and do his part. Your foot then twiddles down to Toji’s sweatpants, pressing and sliding on his groin. It makes his breath hitch. “And what if I am?”

“Mmmph…Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish, baby.” Fuck, the way he looked at you was making you turned on. Even if he’s limited to moving, his dominant side doesn’t falter. It makes you want to tease and push his buttons more.

You lie on your back on the bed, stuffing your fingers in your mouth to bathe them in saliva before returning inside your panties. The self-lubrication makes it easier to slide in your forefinger, a gasp leaving your lips at the insertion. Your toes curl on the tent of his sweatpants, which only get firmer with every second. 

You bring the collar of his shirt to your nose; the cologne remains and attacks your nostrils. “Mmmm…Ahhhh, fuuck…” your voice muffled from the sweatshirt, concealing your puffy lips after pressing on your clit with your thumb.

Toji watches you masturbate before him; he has no choice but to. His bulge becomes more and more annoying to push off, wanting to touch himself and revel at the view of you relieving yourself thinking of him. Hell, the image of your damp panties ticks him off, wanting to rip that skimpy material off himself to feast on your cunt all he wants. Fuck this rope, man…

And he stands by that thought when you warp the leash around your palm and tug it roughly, pulling Toji’s face closer between your legs. The squelching commotion made by your fingers ringing his ears. Fuck, it was so dirty, and he loved it. You peer down at him, “How’s the view down there?”

He scoffs with a bitten lip. “Oh, y’re such a fuckin’ tease, sweetie. You have no idea what y’re gettin’ y’reself into.” 

The sentence humors you. “What makes you say that?”

With a twinge of his lips, Toji straightens his posture and reveals his hands are untied, the red rope clutched in the grasp of his right hand. And the look on your face when he shows you? Priceless.

“Huh!?” You exclaimed with widened eyes! “B–But I made sure to tighten it—“

“I told you,” he gets up on his two feet while his hands undo the collar around his neck. Now, he’s looking down at you; the shiver slithering down your spine at the darkened emerald look he gave you was stomach-dropping. “Gonna need more than one rope. Now, let’s see who’s really gettin' a kick outta this…” 

Damn, you could only chuckle nervously. I’m so fucked.

Yeah, you are. 

Now you’re screaming your heart out from Toji using your body to how he sits fit, his mouth now ravaging your soapy folds and his tongue flicking up and down roughly on your clit. Your hands are tied to your back, your legs propped up by one hand and the other curled around with the leash connected to the collar around your neck. 

“—Ahaahhn!! Ohhhh!! Fuckin—Gahhhh…!” You could barely utter a word, Toji sucking the soul out of you through your essence. You almost choke on your tongue, back arching at the aggressive laps at your cunt.

“Stay still,”  he slaps on your chasm, and you cry at the impact. 

“Hoohhh!! T–Tojiii, please—Ohhhh!!” Another harsh smack; God, you choked on your spit. 

“That ain’t my name,” stern emerald eyes convey a commanding aura. “Actin’ all dumb on my tongue like a slut, can’t even follow an easy rule.” 

“…Ahhhh, I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m ‘orryyy…!”

“Hmph, good girl.” He praises – the only kind thing he’s done outside of the onslaught of teases and sucks he’s done to your body, forcing you to come for the third time in a row. 

“AHHCK!! D-Daddyyy, stooop!! It’s ‘oo muchhh!! Too muuuch—“ your words slur out in helpless cries, not being taken seriously by the man between your legs. 

Although, it’s necessary because your slit is going to need to provide as much slick it can to accommodate the girth of Toji’s raw cock penetrating inside you. Fuck, you could never mentally prepare yourself for him, being full of him every single time. Clenching around his length like crazy, wailing out for him like a porn actress.

Toji’s fucking you from behind — your head smushed to the pillow because his hand pushes you by the neck. On all fours, your arch propping your ass up, the quick strokes of his pelvis have his dick scrape your walls euphorically, all the while gripping your asscheeks like a toy. He’s had you climaxed four times already, and he’s going to get that fifth one unquestioned.

“Fuuuuck—Hic…!” Tears stream down from watery eyes, and pornographic whines squeak out from you.

“—Hnngh! Fuck, clenchin’ on my dick like a real whore, mama,” he gives your ass a swift smack, forcing you to cry and the gushy walls of your vagina to clamp onto him again. “Shiiiit, fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

You can feel it, too; the climb of your own crescendo is soon. “Me toooo, I wanna cummm, Daddy, please, I wanna—Ahhaaaah!!” He slaps your butt again – the sting on your skin causes more tears to fall. 

Toji doesn’t give what you want – no, sir. He removes his cock quick, and a choked mewl clogs your throat when he pulls the leash, yanking you towards him.  “Heh, fuckin’ broad; who said you can cum with me?” 

God, he’s so mean. I fucking love this so much! “—Khhh…Please, Daddy, I wanna cum so baaad, pleaseee…!”

“Oh, really?” His patronizing tone with his gruff voice was such a hot combination. Still holding onto the strap, he brings you up from his grip. You’re practically choking on your saliva, thanks to this damn collar.  “Did ya learn y’r lesson, hmm?”

“Mhmm! Yesshh, I’m sho sorryyy,” holy fuck, you gotta be looking so dumb right now; eyes rolling up with drool coming down your chin.

Not for Toji; it was the sight he wanted to see. And now that he does, he’s thoroughly satisfied. Finally, he releases the leash, having you fall to the pillow with no grace, drawing in of breath. He inserts his cock back into you with a hum, and another slap to your ass makes you jerk. 

“So good fr’ me always, mama…”

hehehe~ it's been a while since I've done impact play *grins*.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – dividers from @/hitobaby.

[pumpkinbxtch]

— your book vs. me ｡⁠:ﾟheadcanons

The HoO guys fight for your attention when you read, how do they do it?

warnings: actually none but maybe sexual suggestions (it's something very tiny) a/n: I still have my writer's block (Or something like that) but my mind is very imaginative. here you go. I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE ARE GOING TO SAY WHERE IS APOLLO? Excuse me, I'm going to compensate you in the following posts.

Percy:

This man is used to being surrounded by people who love to read.

He knows that if you're so immersed in it, he simply won't be able to pull you away unless the end of the world is around the corner (and even then, he wouldn't be sure you'd let go of the book).

Instead, he takes some things he can distract himself with and fiddles with them while lying on your legs. He loves that spot. While he's distracted with a fidget toy (one of the many he got in therapy for ADHD), he might catch some reactions as you read: when something makes you laugh, annoys you, or embarrasses you.

He loves watching you enjoy something you love.

Sometimes he'll rise and cover the book, and you give him a annoyed look. "Just a second, sweetheart," he assures and steals a kiss from your soft lips.

He hums softly before pulling away and lying back on your legs.

Jason:

Jason won't bother you, instead, as you're reading, he'll take you in his arms and sit you on his lap or position himself in a way that their bodies become intertwined.

He'll gently stroke your head or thighs, wanting to be with you but not interrupt your reading.

Sometimes he'll give you kisses on the cheek as you read, and you'll exchange sweet glances. Jason grabs one of his books, and they both immerse themselves in a comfortable, everyday, peaceful silence.

Frank:

Frank would never disturbe you while you're reading; he feels he couldn't cross that line.

However, he's eager to share moments with you so he ends up adjusting you onto him in a way that he can also see what you're reading and accompany you.

Sometimes he'll share certain comments under his breath—"I can't believe it," he says in amazement while waiting for you to turn the page—"Was it him all this time? He doesn't deserve her."

And you pause, turning towards him. Frank fears he might have bothered you, but instead, he gets a peck on the lips that throws him off balance, girl, you took his breath away, and you continue reading.

Sometimes he notices that what you're reading is a bit steamy, and he blushes.

Sometimes he clears his throat and lets out nervous giggles. When you look at him, he shakes his head slightly: "Did you know that could be done?" he asks,

and you end up suggesting that they could try it sometime.

Leo:

He can be gentle, cute, but not when he seems to need your attention. He'll want to try everything before giving up

, and even though he knows he'll probably lose, he doesn't miss the chance to show his affection in a thousand different ways.

He'll be singing for your attention: "Hey, look at me, look at me, I love you more than that book."

He'll jump on the bed and crawl towards you, some mischievous thoughts crossing his mind, "maybe this will work,"

and he'll settle between your legs and start kissing your knees and then the inside of your thighs.

When he sees it's not working, he moves away and lies down beside you.

He gives you repeated kisses on the cheek and steals some from your lips, but when he sees it's not provoking anything, that's when he finally gives up.

He flops onto the bed and pats his chest; that's the only thing you react to. In the end, all he wants is to have you close.

[amphitriteswife]

Lookism characters babysitting a baby hc!

✨ :P

Jonggun, Goo Kim and James Lee (young)

🕶️Jonggun🕶️

🚬 Gun wouldn’t do it out of his own, it’s either because he wants the money or because Charles asked him to. The only child he’ll watch/ take care of willingly is Yenna.

🚬 Gun needs to know it advance if he will babysit a child, that way he will not smoke for a few days to really ‘cleanse’ his body. Aka making sure his breath and clothes dont stink like cigarettes

🚬 He’s not a type that baby talks. He’ll talk normally and have a regular conversation with the baby, yet seems to understand what they are saying, even the parents are amazed.

🚬 ‘baby, do you think speed beats brute strength in a fight?’ *baby gurgling* ‘yes, me too, i think they are both good in their own way. What a smart baby you are’

🚬 Usually when he’s outside or needs to run arrands with the baby he has those baby carriers. He’ll put the baby in it and usually keep one hand on their head to make sure they don’t bump their head and to show affection.

🚬 sometimes he lets them climb onto him if they’re in crawling stage. He’ll make sure that they won’t be harmed and his UI helps with reflexes so he’ll catch them for sure. He’s probably not moving an inch when they do so too.

🚬 even though he doesn’t show much affection nor baby talks, he finds them absolutely adorable. He likes those chonky cheeks and often caresses the baby on their cheek. Ofcourse he washes his hands and uses hand sanitizer.

🚬 sometimes when he takes off his sunglasses the baby takes interests in it and reaches out for it. For gun its no problem since the baby is then occupied doing something else, meaning he doesn’t have to entertain them as they are doing it themselves. And he probably has 100 other sunglasses at home.

🚬 jonggun likes quiet babies or very cheerful babies. He experienced lots with different kind of reactions, for example the babies crying when they see his eyes, or parents whispering that he looks demonic. Which he doesn’t care about tbh

🚬 the best thing about it is his paycheck. I feel like jonggun would want a slight high pay for taking care of the baby. But it has its positive side as he’s very good with the baby depending in terms of safety and taking care of them.

🚬 his opinions on changing their nappy is divided. When the baby lets him do his thing he’d be pretty chill with it. But when they start rolling around and crawling away he had to take a very big sigh. And he’ll probably charge you for that.

💸Goo kim💸

💳He would actually be 50/50 babysitting but do it regularly as a side job from his main job, and yes it’ll probably be illegal cause he 100% wants it in cash and won’t pay taxes for it.

💳 He thinks all babies are cute, pinches their cheeks, cradles them, holds them in the air, baby talks. This man would become a nanny if he could, but ofcourse it’s all for the money🤑

💳 Goo isn’t a fan of nappy changing, he dislikes it yet knows its an important part of his job. Although it’s rough sometimes. Especially when he deals with it outside for example or he finds himself in a difficult situation where he cant change them, he always manages to do it eventually

💳 ‘you ’re so cute baby! Do you like me? Do you think i’m nice?’ *baby noises* ‘aww you do, see this man named Jonggun doesn’t think so. He’s being ridiculous right?’ *baby noise* ‘yes, next time i’ll steal all his Prada bags.’

💳 He will take them out for walks and actually carry them despite having a baby carrier clasped on his chest. He will go to the park, do some shopping. Do some cooking. Do some talking. Just everything to entertain the baby.

💳 probably buys the baby things if they grab something in the store or seem to stare at something. If it keeps them entertained its all the better. And it’s not expensive either so he doesn’t complain much about it.

💳 dresses the baby in cute outfits. Usually he lays all the outfits on the floor and lets the baby crawl to which on the like, he does it with everything. Jumpers, shirts, bows, shoes, skirts, dresses. Anything.

💳 he’ll have beef with the parents for buying baby stuff and not following the diet and basically taking them anywhere. Some will let him do it again and others won’t.

💳 even if he thinks babies are cute. He HATES the sound of them crying. He’ll panic, get exhausted, try to get them to stop but still fail and then just sit there rethinking his life.

💳 He and Jonggun would lowkey meet up when both of them are babysitting. And let the babies play with each other while they talk about various things.

💳 despite Goo having money and being able to afford high end baby foods. He prefers to cook or blend and make his own. Ofcourse making sure the baby isn’t allergic to anything, he’ll usually make soup or porridge for the baby and decorate it so that they won’t refuse to eat it.

🍬James Lee🍬

🍭 Man is poor okay, even if he works under Charles blud was still in his highschool student phase so he was probably broke asf and needed money. And no he aint watching crystal.

🍭 He, like Goo, also thinks babies are cute and prefers them over toddlers. That’s because toddlers can be very spoiled or run away and blud does NOT have the energy for it.

🍭 He likes the smell of baby powder. So when he has to powder the baby he uses it too. He sniffs baby powder instead of drugs.

🍭 james feels really protective for the babies he’s sitting. He think’s they’re super tiny and fragile what makes his heart melt but also feel very protective from his instinct.

🍭 when he holds the baby he lets them munch on his muscles if they’re teething. He doesn’t rly mind and as long as they’re not in pain he just thinks it’s fine.

🍭 people mistake him as being a single teenage dad most of the time. ‘Hey did you see the dude with the red hair and the baby?’ ‘Yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me if he has a kid, he’s probably bussing it down’ he was in fact, not bussing it down.

🍭 he’ll use the baby to practice his tests. As in he’ll explain what he had to learn to the baby and practice his presentations. The baby usually claps after he’s done or giggles what makes him super happy

🍭 He’ll also try to teach the baby how to speak and walk depending on how old they are, he’ll help with their development and speaks with them. He often curses because well he’s a teen, but tries his best not to use it in front of the baby

🍭 the most reliable out of all the 3 tbh. He’s more a big brother type to the baby than a nanny/ care taker. He’ll come see the baby if he had time. Or for example says hi if he sees them at the park with their parents.

🍭 He’s not the type to use a baby carrier but rather a stroller cause he doesn’t have to carry the baby all the time and can let them sit/ lay in it. Especially when they get sleepy. He likes strolling outside with the baby and going to the park/ beach

🍭 baby will be home safe and happy if James is the one who babysat. And he’s 100% asked to baby sit again. Which made him popular but because he has school he only had standard ppl he’ll sit for.

Thank you all for reading! 🩵

[sheepispink]

Hornets, Wasps and cuddling— wait what?

Masterlist AO3 ver

summary: Rational and calculated: those are the traits that kept you alive on the field and thus made you popular for how you seemed to never crack under pressure. That’s exactly why Ghost was confused when he found you breathless in the hallway after hearing a barrage of footsteps down the long corridors of the barracks and, of course, still clad. in your pyjamas.

Tags: Simon “Ghost” riley/reader, fluff, cuddling, wasps obviously, reader has paranoia, slightly gory description (mentions of skin being scraped out), slowburn, platonic/romantic (can be seen as either), hurt/comfort

WC: 6k

Gifted to python333 on ao3, i love all ur fics

It was almost half past one in the morning when you entered your room in the barrack; the fresh air blowing around your room was absolutely perfect considering how sweaty you were after returning from your mission. Your usual routine went as follows: dump your uniform into your laundry basket, take a warm shower (shampoo like three times; you always did so after missions), dry off, and apply a very simple skincare routine before knocking out until someone dragged you out of bed the next morning. It wasn't like you missed your alarm; Price has written the force a day off so, for once in your life, you’d actually get the sleep you needed after such a tiring week in the field.

While you undress, your mind starts to drift to all the close calls your own small team had faced today due to an unforeseen event changing the plan. You seemed to be the only one there who ever had their head on their shoulders, but then again, most of them only had a few months actually doing field missions, and the others were fresh out of training. Due to that, the mission was obviously not very high risk, and so you weren't setback that much, but damn, it did tire you out having to always watch out for each member on the team. The bathroom tiles are cold against your feet as you step inside, turning the handle of the shower and slowly climbing in once the water becomes warm enough.

Soon enough, you’re feeling a lot cleaner and relaxed, the tension in your temples disappearing as soon as you wash the cleanser off your face. With a small dollop of cream now rubbed into your face, you climb into your small bed in the corner with a soft sigh. The duvets aren't nearly what you used to indulge yourself in before you joined the military, but damn anything is better than those annoying uniforms. You allow your eyes to finally slip close once whilst the wind whistles past your curtains again, the slight coldness making you snuggle up to your pillow as you grow sleepier by the second. You’re so close to dreamland now, the usual worries no longer clouding your head like they’ve been sucked away by your fluffy pillows.

bzz

It was probably just a notification, and knowing how dry your phone was, it was likely going to be the weather app with the latest forecast. You roll over onto your side, pressing your cheek into your pillow to hopefully drown out your constant thoughts.

Then you hear it again, louder and intrusive, like it’s right by your ear. It’s threatening to crawl in and eat away at the skin of your ear until you wake, scratching at your ear canal until blood begins to seep and your brain—

With a small gasp, you jolt awake, your eyes searching the perimeter frantically for the source of the noise. Driven with confusion and a slight terror you wouldn't ever admit to feeling, you scramble out of bed and pat down the curtains, your desk, and the laundry basket. Though nothing appears—not even a damn mosquito or the like. You were sure you heard something, absolutely positive but you can't exactly fight the air, could you? Reluctantly, you pull the covers over yourself and settle back into the bed. It’s probably an annoying fly that escaped through the window— not exactly something to concern yourself over. It’s not like you haven't slept through rickety army trucks or the loud whirring of helicopter blades before; it shouldn’t bother you any longer. With a groan, you close your eyes again and lean back, ready to let your exhausted mind enter that quiet state again.

BZZ

It doesn't sound like a fly now, nor a wasp or anything familiar. It’s noisy and destructive, buzzing in calculated yet violent ways. It makes you jump up straight again, only to be met with the sight of your plain old room. Had all those explosives really banged up your hearing? You’d have to get it checked out at the infirmary tomorrow, but for now you couldn't say you were a little paranoid. It was just a little strange how it always seemed to appear whenever you were on the verge of sleep, and even though you’re exhausted, you decide to just wait it out at least a little bit. Just in case.

After twenty minutes of no noise, you finally get tired enough to just fall asleep without knowing, your head slightly turned to the side as you nod off peacefully, now without a doubt that it really must’ve been a trick in your mind, nothing to worry about in the slightest.

Unfortunately, you were proven wrong when you woke up the next hour, the buzzing extremely loud and the sound bouncing around your ears like you’re in a cinema. Your limbs feel like they’ll fall apart as it is, and you silently swear to yourself that if Soap is trying to piss you off again, you will slap him this time. Cracking your eyes open, your worries immediately fester into terror as you see whatever the hell that is, running rings around your ceiling. It’s larger than the average fly, even more so than a wasp, and by the sound of how aggressive it’s buzzing is, you’re likely to become it’s next meal. Before you can consider your next move, your hand is already wrapped around your phone and your feet tucked up in your fluffy slippers as you immediately make a run for it. You’ll be thankful later for the automatic locking on your room door, but for now you couldn’t give more than a passing thought as you practically ran down the hallways of the barracks. Your head is empty, just focused on the nightmarish idea of that buzzing wasp, hornet—vile creature—flying around your room for the whole time while you were deep asleep. What the hell are you going to do? It was almost deafening how loud it all was, now you’re starting to think further into it, wondering if there was more than one in your room; hell, maybe there was even a nest in there. Now your lungs feel like they’re being blown up from how heavy you’re breathing. Your heart is hammering against your chest, almost painfully, before you finally snap to reality once you realise you’re about to crash into the doors that lead to the rest of the base. Now out of breath, you force the adrenaline to skid to a stop and quietly pant, trying to get back to your senses, which are clearly left behind in your bedroom with that horrible thing.

“When Capt’ said to keep on top of our training even after missions, I’m positive he didn't mean this.” A gruff voice states, slicing through the panic in your heart to make you look up in surprise only to be met with the familiar face of the other team’s lieutenant. He had been yours for a mission, but other than that, you had no experience talking to him other than the shared chats in the mess hall with a couple other sergeants in his team. You often made an effort to catch up with others on the weekend, and despite not even being in their taskforce, you wormed your way into being invited to all of their small chats.

Even so, this was very different from just a normal chat about the new K9s or the tough Russia mission another group was on. It was nearly three thirty in the morning, and if you weren't so shook by the buzzing creature, you definitely would’ve noticed the way his eyes rake slowly over your trembling form. Not like he was trying to check you out—jaw-dropped and tangled hair definitely was not your best look. When you don’t respond but instead just look at him like a deer in headlights, he raises a brow beneath the mask, his eyes visibly widening as your shaking state. “You look like someone just threw a grenade into your room.” He scoffs, still trying to figure out why the hell you’re just panting like that. “Get in here.”

Soon enough you manage to push your feet to walk past his intimidating form into his private quarters. You can’t tell if you’re lucky or extremely cursed to have garnered his attention of all people, considering he was known for being a no-nonsense type of guy. At least with Gaz or Soap, you could’ve at least tried to argue why you were absolutely terrified of such a small bug. He doesn't fail to notice the way your head flings back when the door buzzes as he locks it, your eyes turning into saucers before you quickly realise you were worked up over nothing and snap your gaze back to the ground. As predicted, he doesn't bother to ask you to sit and gets right to the root of the problem.

“So are ya gonna tell me why the hell you ran down from your room, at the end of the barracks, to the entrance?” If he wasn't covered by that black balaclava, you’re positive he would’ve raised a judging brow at you long ago. He doesn’t let you escape it just because of that and instead opts to narrow his eyes to really enforce it. “Well um..” You begin, suddenly at a loss for words for once in your life. Maybe it’s because you’re still shaken, or the fact you’re in fluffy bunny slippers in front of a lieutenant, or maybe it’s because he’s staring down at you like you’re a kid again, wiping the spilling tears from your eyes as you try and steady your voice. That’s far too many maybe’s to let you think straight, so you opt for the best response—the vaguest one—in an attempt to save a shred of your dignity. “I got startled by something.”

Great, he’s eyeing you even more than before; you should’ve cartwheeled down the corridor too while you were at it—maybe you could have convinced him you were in the circus. “Which was?” His large arms cross over his torso, years of strenuous work hidden by just a thin black shirt. Your teeth graze your lips awkwardly, trying to ignore the small pit of shame in your stomach for overreacting so much. This wasn't you, and yet you were still somewhat trembling where you stood. “It was..” Placing your hands on your hips, you force a sheepish smile, pretending like it wasn’t as serious to you. “There was a…uh.. thing flying around my room. Buzzed a lot—you know those um, things..” You babble, trying to reach the point and yet not getting even close to the answer he wants in the slightest. He lets out another scoff at your reluctant demeanour, clearly on the tipping point with how terrified you looked, stumbling over your words and your eyes practically like moons in their sockets. “A fly?” He suggests as he tilts his head down at you, which makes you shrink just a little.

“No.. uhh. bigger.”

“A bee?”

“No.. the uh.. the ones that can sting multiple times.”

“A wasp?”

“Yes- but no… worse than those.”

“Damn it, sergeant, spit it out!” He exclaims, his head shaking exasperatedly as he places his rough hands onto your shoulders, and gives you a light shake. “It was a hornet—a damn hornet, okay? I was terrified of a hornet in my room.” He suddenly lets go of his firm grip on your shoulders and you almost topple over from the lack of support keeping you upright since your heart is way too occupied trying to compensate for all the oxygen you just used acting like a lunatic. When you see him let out a heavy sigh and rub his temples with his hand, you’re already planning the walk of shame out of his room and back into the hell you only just escaped. “I- I overreacted; it’s fine. I’ll just go back-“ You begin, scrambling to save the shards of your dignity that shattered the moment he caught you in this pathetic state. Your foot pivots, ready to turn on your heel and make a dash for it before his hand swiftly catches your wrist, halting any movement you intended to make. ”Where is it?”

”What?”

”The hornet, where is it in your room?”

The walk back to your room is deathly silent, partially because it is three thirty in the morning and partially because Ghost has never been on the vocal side anyway. It’s not like you were intent on filling the quiet anyway, already dreading having to hear that horrifying thing again. Eventually, you reach the door of your room again and you open it with the spare key attached to your phone case. It’s more of a card than a key, and the room opens with another small buzz, which of course makes your heart jump no matter how much you mentally pumped yourself up before reaching the door. Of course, that doesn't go unnoticed by him, and he turns to you before he unlocks the door, looking a little annoyed, but you can't really tell as you try to calm the thump. “Stay here.”

Despite your fear, you can't help but peek in after he enters, watching how he stalks around the room like he’s preparing for a murder. He checks the bed first, shaking the sheets to see if it has landed there but nothing seems to come about. Thankfully, he seems to take your fear somewhat seriously, and even waves your spare towel around the room to startle the creature out of hiding so he can chase it out for good. Just your luck; nothing appears in the slightest, and he’s approaching you again, a tired look in his eyes, and you suddenly feel guilty for wasting his time. Why did that damn thing just have to disappear right now?

“Ghost—I swear, it was literally buzzing around like crazy. I could hear it like it was literally in my ear!”

“Must’ve flown out. Just close your windows; It’s yer fault for opening that big anyway.”

The exasperated look quickly returns to his face as he starts to head for the door, convinced by the theory he had chosen.

”But what if it’s still in the room and I close the windows? I’d trap it with me!” That makes him pause for a second—what the hell has gotten into you?

”What do you want to open the window and coax another one in? You’d rather two than one?”

By the tone of his voice, though it never really changes, it’s clear he’s not impressed by your very irrational thinking, and you can’t exactly argue with his words. However, having to sleep with even one of those things near you was a million times worse in your head than being an idiot in front of him and whoever else might’ve witnessed your antics earlier. That’d be revealed the next morning, but for now you were pretty adamant about your own words.

”Ghost, you have to believe me. Before I went to bed, I heard the buzzing, and I literally searched the entire room like it was an assigned mission! Then as soon as I woke—It’s just there in my face; my windows aren't open that much anyway!” You say frantically, your voice rising to a much higher pitch which leaves your fear on clear display for him to see.

He cannot deny it; he’s never seen you so worked up in the past four years he’s known you. Even with spiders, other bugs, and bees, you had never been this stressed over their existence, but it seemed to shake you to your very core this time. Hands flailing about, flushed cheeks and hair like a bird's nest on your head— the last time you were this dishevelled it was because of a damn explosive that went off right next to where you were stationed. He’s about to open his mouth when he hears a sudden buzz, but it’s not in a specific part of the room, and even for a lieutenant like himself, he can’t even figure out what direction it is in. You squeal before he can even glance at you, already dashing to hide right behind him, which happens to be right next to the door as well. He can't exactly argue with that when he had just heard it himself. “Wait outside the room.” He orders, and this time you don’t hesitate, closing the door firmly behind you.

Anxiously, your slipper taps against the floor as you wait for him to emerge from the room and tell you the news you wanted to hear. Unfortunately, it was much worse than you originally expected. “Seems to be a wasp nest near yer window.” His arms cross over his chest as he leans against the door of your room, unaware of the way your heart just stopped at that single sentence. “There's nothing in your room, though. They’re in the space between yer ceiling’s insulation and the roof.” He attempts to reassure you, thinking surely you’d just go back to sleep since you’re usually quite rational.

He definitely wasn't expecting your teeth to graze your lip as you bite down, trembling with eyes practically wide as saucers. “There’s a nest…?”You practically whisper out, not even daring to blink for a second. That makes him raise his brow— didn't he just tell you that? “Yes but it’s in the rafter—“

“I can't sleep there—I heard it, I saw it above me! What if they get fed up with the lack of space and come into my room? What if someone next door makes a loud noise and it scares them so hard they all come into my room?!” You begin, practically pacing back and forth outside your room now with him left in complete shock.

What the hell are you talking about?

“Sergea-“ He begins, but you cut him off, still frantically pacing and reciting all the possible outcomes in hushed whispers.

“They could like the smell of the perfume I bought and come in, or maybe they’re already in my room stuck behind a cabinet or somewhere—they’ll be so angry when they come out, right?” You suddenly halt to a stop and look down at your pyjamas, the bunnies patterned across, though your shorts has a flower printed across the pocket.

“Ghost— what if they think this is a real flower and chase after me?!” He slaps his glove across your mouth before you can continue your incessant talking, leaving you mumbling against his hand with your pupils blown wide.

“They’re the damn size of yer thumb, Sergeant. What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Even though it’s the same gruff British voice, there's a hint of concern beneath it as his sharp eyes bore into your own. You’ve never quite been this up close with him before, especially since you were more of a friend of a friend than his actual friend. Though, then again, you had no idea who he even considered his actual friends. You didn't know much about him at all. So you instantly fall quiet, even when he eventually steps back and crosses his arms, still close enough to intimidate you. “They’re really loud...” You say, voice still a hushed whisper since it is the dead of night and you’d rather not get a scolding tomorrow. “Sorry.. I- i’ll just go to sleep.” He lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you stiffly turn on your heel, turning back into the lion's den, also known as your room.

Ghost is a straightforward man; he doesn’t mess around with what-ifs or irrationality. He prefers to get the job done as soon as possible and as efficiently as possible. He didn’t get his reputation for just doing his work; it’s how he does his work. That also includes knowing the people around him, especially the people in his team—working solo isn't always the way to go; he’s not stupid to compromise the mission just because he prefers his own company. It also meant he grew to appreciate the help of other soldiers—specifically the way you constantly saved him and his teammates’ asses on the last mission. In fact, he saw it all too well the way you had a constant eye on them, no matter how experienced they were compared to you. You were quick to give up your rations for Soap, even faster to bandage up Gaz’s scrape when you reached the safe house. He supposes you deserve at least a good night's sleep after all you’ve done.

When he sees you practically trembling, trying to turn to the door handle, his hand lands on your arm, stopping you before you enter.

“I never said you had to sleep there.” He could practically feel your fear radiating off of you, and despite his usual notions, he couldn’t just leave you with the way you were shaking like a leaf in a storm. “Then where am I supposed to sleep..?”

He turns a blind eye when you suddenly hook your finger around the sleeve of his shirt, having heard a small noise that startled you. Now that you’re sure you’ll be safe from the hornets, you’re able to finally relax your mind, and you start to let your eyes wander. That's how you suddenly realised that Ghost was in his usual training outfit, a tight black sleeve shirt and dark grey sweatpants. You had seen him in this before, but you never knew that he trained this late at night.

“Were you training before I.. y'know, ran down the corridor?” You tilt your head as you walk alongside him, your slippers making soft patters against the flooring. “Yeah, I had just come back when I heard you making a racket.”

“I was not making a racket!”

He gives you a deadpan look, making you drop your hand from his sleeve and a small frown to curve on your lips. “Alright, maybe I was a little loud. Is anyone even in the gym this late..?” You ask, a finger tapping your chin thoughtfully, and he just lets out a grumble in response.

“No.”

“So you’re trying to avoid everyone?”

“You’re still making a racket.”

He opens the door of his room for you the second time that night, allowing you inside. His room is the standard: desk, chair, bed, and closet although he has a few weights in a corner too. Does he ever stop training? He gestures for you to walk forward, which you do without question, and he follows behind you before patting the bed and speaking once more.

“Go on, I'll take the floor. You’ve been up long enough.”

You give him a grateful nod, sliding your slippers off at the foot of his bed before awkwardly walking over to the edge of his bed. Just before you get in, you pause, your teeth scraping against each other uncomfortably before you glance at him. “Are you sure? I can just go back, y'know, suck it up. It’s just an insect.“ He cuts you off as he heads to his closet, pulling back a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants to wear to bed, wanting to get out of his sweaty gym wear even if you couldn’t smell anything when walking beside him. “For the most rational soldier of your age in this base, you sure did act like you’d been shot. So no, I don't think you can just go back with how terrified you clearly are.”

“But-“

“Do you want to shit yourself over a hornet hiding underneath your pillow?”

You have to hold back a squeal at the mere thought and quickly nod, climbing beneath his thick duvets and settling your head onto the pillows. It’s obvious you're exhausted by the way your eyes are drooping, and he quietly steps into the bathroom to shower and change, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by his presence looming around. Unfortunately, when he returns, you’re still tossing over, jumping at every little creak of the door and whistling of the wind from his curtains.

“What’s wrong now?” He asks gruffly, some part of him knowing well that he won't even get a proper answer to that question.

“Nothing’s wrong..” The voice that had previously been frantic and panicked is much quieter now, slightly muffled by the covers as you bury your face into one of his pillows. He can't even stop himself as he makes his way over to the side of the bed where you lay, sitting on a chair and rolling it forward so he’s in front of you. Your cheeks are smushed against the bed, duvet tight over you, and covering your ears as well. He faintly remembers you mentioning that you could hear it in your ear, so he’s sure you’re likely traumatised by that too. “You still haven’t fallen asleep, and it’s four am. Didn't you just get back from a mission?”

“Yeah, but..”

“But what?”

“I feel bad.” You murmur, letting out a small huff in annoyance. “Can’t you sleep in the bed too? I don't want you sleepin’ on the hard floor.”

He rolls his eyes at your incessant complaining, placing a steady hand onto your head to annoy you with the sheer weight of it. Surprisingly, it’s less of a scolding that you’d receive in training and more of a pat. You hadn't realised he could actually be well…nice. “I’ve slept in far worse places, trust me. I have a feelin’ that's not what’s still keeping you up though.” Most would let you get away with such a thing, but he’s determined to at least get you to admit the core cause of this whole issue. After all, he can’t help if he doesn’t know, and seeing as you’re still shaken, there's definitely a reason behind this. “My feet barely touch the end of this bed; just get in.” You ignore the second part of his statement entirely, quickly butting it with our small voice. He wasn't used to sleeping beside someone, not that he’d ever get worked up if the situation came to where he had to do so. It was the same with touching people—he didn’t like it, but he was no coward; he liked to think that he could handle anything thrown at him. Not that he has an ego either.

So, with a reluctant grunt to show his annoyance, he slides underneath the covers beside you, his large body practically engulfing your shorter form. This is exactly why he didn’t want to— you were practically going to fall off the bed at this rate. It’s obvious you’re on the same page as him now as you shuffle around, trying to not touch him yet also not meet your fate for the second time tonight. It wasn't like you’d consider complaining anyway; you had practically disturbed enough of his night, and you were also slightly terrified of worsening his current opinion of you.

”You’re uncomfortable, aren't you?”

You can’t help but nod as you slowly roll over, meeting his brown eyes that narrow at you through the holes in his mask that allow you to just read a hint of emotion on his face if he ever decides to let it show. He’s about to get back up again when he watches your eyes widen and you quickly speak up. “I shouldn't even stay here; I'm not even going to be able to sleep..” That makes him raise a brow, and for some reason, he pulls the covers higher over you as he settles on his back, head slightly turned to face you. “Why not?”

”I’ll uh.. I'm worried that I'll hear it again, yknow, the hornets.” You mumble out, not wanting to beat around the bush much longer than you have. If he must find out that you secretly are a coward, especially to insects with stingers, so be it. It’s better than lying to him and then he forces the truth out of you.

You’re expecting your fourth judging look of the night when he just lets out a heavy sigh, resting his arms behind his head. “So, you’ll be too scared to sleep?” He doesn't need to turn his head to imagine your sheepish nod. “You know, I'll kill it, right? I don’t ever give those cheeky bastards a chance.” However, there’s still an uncertainty in your voice, despite his confidence in his own abilities. “But what if you can't find it and-“ It’s clear it’s more than the idea; it’s a deep-rooted paranoia that sets you off as soon as you hear the noise of them. He’d never thought he’d come close to ever thinking about doing this—even when Johnny teased him when he was caught staring in bars or even when he had been younger and his hormones had been wack. In fact, he’s been more affectionate to that K9 Riley than he’s ever been with a woman, yet here he is, lifting his arm and beckoning you over.

”Come ‘ere then. You’re shaking, Sergeant.”

You glance down at your hands, which are indeed trembling, but you’re more occupied with his invitation to come and lay down beside him—literally to press your face against the side of his chest and have his arm tucked behind your body as you doze off. The mere thought sounds like something that should be forbidden, especially with someone as stoic as him who has plenty of rumours surrounding his deadly skills on the battlefield. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, the need to settle the fear in your heart leading you to shuffle a little closer before you catch yourself; your body goes stiff as a board as you contemplate the situation through your muddled head. If you said no, you’d make it weird, but if you said yes, does that change anything between the two of you? When he speaks again, you’re half expecting him to tell you to hurry up or the like, but instead he just lets out a gruff shrug. “You don't have to, just an offer.”

That’s enough to convince you, and you finally give into your fears, settling right beneath his arm. He doesn't bother to ask this time, taking your movement as permission as he tucks his arm around you and pulls you easily into his side. “Breathe; you’re as tense as a damn rookie.”

“Fine, don't go complainin’ then.”

His insistence makes you grumble, slowly growing frustrated at your own pathetic display of fear that you press your cheek into his shoulder and an arm lazily resting over his chest—half expecting him to scoff at your slightly clingy behaviour. You don’t quite see the smirk he hides beneath the balaclava, tugging the duvets snugly over your huffy form before his hand lazily pats your back, easing the anxiety that knotted your muscles.

Trying to stay professional is near impossible when you can hear the thump of his heart beneath your ear—the sound crawling through the canal and seeping into your brain like a sweet serotonin shot. It’s steady and somehow peaceful, a constant reminder that you’re now safe from the deadly silence that makes you wait for the worst. It allows your lashes to finally press against your skin, the lines in your forehead easing as you begin to lose yourself. You know for absolute sure now that for as long as you hear the thump of his heart and his arms swallowing your smaller stature whole, no fears will consume you tonight, nor will anything harm you ever again.

bonus:

“Five more minutes..”

The mumbles leave your mouth as you steady the horse you ride upon, a lasso in your hand as you ride through the barren land. It’s so exhilarating—the air on your face as you rush through the land—well, it would be if not for the constant nagging you feel on your cheek.

“Stop that—“

You frown, bringing a hand up to your cheek as you force you and your horse to halt to a stop, surprised to feel something there despite you being the only one upon this beauty.

“What?”

You snap awake, eyes fluttering open to see the blur of a skull balaclava before you and your body being slightly squeezed. Not to mention, your hand was holding another’s which was gently prodding at your cheek but now stopped.

“G-ghost?”

You blink in confusion, the world before you finally clearing up before you finally realise that you’re still curled up against him, though much closer to his neck now, and well, your legs have somehow managed to hook on top of his.

“Took ya long enough, sleepyhead. Kept mumbling about your next ‘bounty’.” His gruff voice rings out, the air from your dream now revealed to be his warm breath before he sits up properly as do you.

“Had a dream that I was a cowboy..”

You reluctantly admit, still half awake as you rub at your eyes, unable to escape from his comfortable hold on you.

“Try explaining that to the others then. They’ve been waiting all morning for you to reply to their messages.”

That makes you blink again, grabbing your phone just to realise it was twelve in the afternoon. Now that you think about it, Ghost had his gloves back on as well as his typical army shirt and cargo pants.

“What?! Why didn't you wake me?”

You exclaim, scrambling up before he rolls his eyes and almost hesitantly pulls his hands from you.

“You were out like a light; besides, it is your rest day. I’ve already cleared out your room and called pest control for the nest to be removed, so get your ass up and go get changed; we’re leaving at twenty.”

Your eyes light up at his confession of what he had achieved all while you had snoozed in his bed, lips slowly widening as you realise he had sorted the problem right through the core for you. Quickly, you swing your legs off of the bed and back into your slippers again before noticing the army attire he had brought for you to change into so you didn't have to walk the halls in your pyjamas.

“Thank you, Ghost.”

You say warmly, bundling the clothes in your hands. “I mean it.”

“Hmph. And I mean it when I say you’ll be late.” He huffs out, watching as you stand before him, all giddy and raring to go for the first time in a while. “You weren’t wrong by the way. They’re mostly active in the early hours of the mornin’ so that’s why you didn’t see anything until you woke up a few hours later.” Your face falls in relief at that, looking happier than before— if that was even possible.

“I suppose if you’re still scared that they could magically return—“ He rolls his eyes, emphasising your irrationality from the night prior despite having just proven that wrong. “— you’re welcome to sleep here. Only in emergencies, got it?”

“Yes sir.” You grin before he quickly dismisses you, getting up from bed to continue his duties around base. “18 minutes now; don’t make Johnny wait for you.” Your eyes go wide, and you quickly scamper into the bathroom to change, his eyes still locked onto you until you disappear behind the door. He kind of regrets fixing your problem now; he should’ve at least let it fester for a day or two more.

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 5

Summary: Some things just weren’t meant to be ignored.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  Language, voyeurism, masturbation (M&F), pillow grinding, The Verb, non con moment, implied fighting, tension, mentions of childhood trauma, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.4K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You were getting to Lloyd. He should have noticed it sooner, but he was too worried about his daughter, and then it was you that was occupying his thoughts. The forbidden fruit. Lloyd loves the succulent taste of something he’s not supposed to have, therefore you became an obsession. An obsession that he began to care about. An obsession he desired more than anything.

You entwined your kind and damaged self into his very being, and he needs to keep you for himself. Protect you from the world that so desperately wants to destroy women like you. Women who have it all, and are still overlooked. You were even going right down the path that they all did. A prick of a boyfriend that you didn’t love, didn’t want, but you just made it work because he ticks off imaginary boxes.

You were too pure for the men in your world. They’d have you beaten into submission, and be their perfect little housewife, while you became a woman like your mother. Did whatever your husband said because he paid the bills. You would make exceptions to your happiness because he gave you a life of luxury. He could go off and spend all his time with whores and secretaries while you sat at home becoming bitter.

He hated The Verb with every part of him, your dad was just barely below The Verb. The only reason he tolerates your father now is because he’s the reason you were searching for the love of a man. And because of your mother you accept subpar men like The Verb, and make excuses of it being love. It wasn’t.

Love is the way you lift Lyla up in the air above your head, while she giggles down at you. Love is pulling her closer to your face so you can kiss all over her cheeks. Love is sitting on a blanket in the park with the stupid expensive pram so Lyla can get outside. Love is enjoying the time that you get to have with her. Love is the confusing feelings you feel for him.

Because no matter what you say, he sees the feelings you have for him. You even got off with his name on your lips, and it was beautiful. He wants to hear it again. Hear it whisper across his skin, while your walls both literally and figuratively crash down. Becoming so soft after you orgasm over his cock that you are pliant, and just need him to hold you. His obsession runs deep, but at least it is pure intentions.

“Was watching her through your phone not enough?” Ari asks, as he sits down on the bench beside his friend. He looks in Lloyd’s direction as you lay Lyla on the ground, praising her when she flips over and gets into a crawling position. “I didn’t take you as a sap.”

“Me neither,” Lloyd barely responds, but smiles right along with you. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you?” Ari looks more at his friend before he looks back at the two of you. “She’s a natural,” every time that he has seen you with Lyla you didn’t look like her au pair at all, you looked like her mother. Even now, she seems like your baby.

“Yeah, she’s raising her daughter the way she wanted to be raised,” Ari opens his mouth, but closes it immediately. His eyes drift around the park, trying to make sense of whatever is going through his partner's head. “I didn’t want this. Either of them. I was supposed to continue to slut around with whoever I wanted, and go to work. That was my life. So you tell me why either of them came into my life, and I’m not supposed to do anything about it?”

“You should know that life gives us curveballs, and we have to figure it out along the way. Like Lyla. You brought Roman’s daughter into your life. And now you’ve got another problem.”

“A fucking hair in my eyeball that is festering and is named after a damn verb. That boy,” Lloyd releases a growl low in the pit of his stomach as he thinks about the vile things that boy said to you. And that is just what he has heard. He’s sure that Chase has said messed up psycho babble to you, that you never asked for. The way he looked down at you, and was already putting you in your place makes him sick. “Fuck.”

“Is that what you’re wanting to do with your sweet little au pair? Fuck her?”

“Yes. Dream about it every night while I fuck my fist,” Ari rolls his eyes, pretending he didn’t hear any of that. Last thing he wanted to think about was Lloyd fucking someone’s daughter. “But it’s more than that.”

“You want her to take care of your daughter.”

“I want to protect them both. And I enjoy the moments that don’t have this intense sexual tension. I enjoy her. And what she wants, and I just get her,” he did. Chase doesn’t know what he has, but Lloyd does. You would see. “I’m tired of this conversation. They’re both mine. And I don’t share.”

“You’re talking about a woman that actually isn’t yours.”

“She will be, Ari. I can promise you that. Let’s go. I’ve gotta get home early,” he gives the two of you a final look. Wishing he could linger, and watch you all day. See how patient you are with Lyla even if she cries. See how you adored her so much you couldn’t stop kissing her, and smiling at her. He is tired of avoiding you. And he isn’t going to avoid you anymore. Sexual tension be damned.

“And you go in your seat,” Lyla pulls her feet up in a silent protest to not sit in her high chair. She’d been doing this all day. “You are so needy for attention today, but you need to sit in your chair,” furrowing her brows, she looks at you with her bottom lip puckered out. “No, don’t give me that face.”

Opening her mouth to babble incoherent words in a sassy tone. “Are you really going to sass me after I made dinner, and made you your special food,” she keeps her legs tightly pulled up, and you look at your plate and her plate both getting cold. Maybe you were giving in to her too much, but she is a baby.

“Okay, okay. You’ll just sit in my lap, and we’ll wait for daddy. Say dada,” she giggles, shaking her head no. Her chubby little fingers reach for something to gnaw on for a moment, and you sneak a bite of your own. “Your daddy is scared of me. Yes, he is.”

Since that night, Lloyd had avoided you. Claiming he was working late, but you knew better. He checked in less, too. Having cameras gave him the ability to not check in, you suppose. Before he didn’t care. He’d call or send a text, now he does nothing. You figured he just didn’t want to see your face. “I think things got too heavy with us. He’s a bit strong, you know. But he’s pretty cute,” you giggle, making sure to kiss her cheek again.

“He’s very cute. And he has these arms, and his legs, and his lips. I think I like his hands the most. They’re so thick — and soft,” you close your eyes a moment, drifting off into a fantasy of being draped over his legs. “But it’s a bit too complicated,” sighing because you know that you’re not going to go that route. It was too complicated already. It was best if the two of you just kept going the pace you were going.

“But you know you’re daddy’s cute.”

“I am?” Your smile fades as the very man you were talking about waltzes into the dining area with a cocky grin. Lyla’s legs kick around, and she makes the sweetest grabby hands towards him. “Can daddy make him a plate? He sure is hungry,” her giggles turn into shrill screams, and her legs and arm flail. “Lyla Bee! You quit that, girlie.”

“I’ll make you a plate, Lloyd. Here, take Lyla biddy boo Bee,” the sound of your silly voice to her as you walk to her daddy who is already sitting at the table makes her squeal laugh. Her eyes closing with how much she’s smiling, and when he pulls her from your arms, she buries into his warmth. “She’s been a bit needy for attention lately, but tell daddy, it’s okay, huh?”

Leaning over, you grin, rubbing your nose on her, but Lloyd is encapsulated by the scent of your hair. Rolling his eyes in the back of his head at how sweet and sinful this moment all is. It’s almost normal. Almost the family that neither of you had. “Now, you behave,” you whisper.

As you stand up straight, you catch Lloyd wafting your scent with his softly closed, and it makes you smile to yourself. “I’ll be back, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” he didn’t even realize what you had said. Him being silly with a crush makes you happy.

“I was talking to the baby,” you remind him. A brief moment flashes between the two of you, and you want to stay. Want to will his hand to reach out and grab your own. You see the flinches of his fingers like he wants to, and then you snap out of it. This shouldn’t happen. He is your employer and things will get difficult, and you didn’t want them to. Lyla needs you.

Going into the kitchen, you plate up his dinner while you think. What the fuck are you doing? This is getting too intense, but the feeling of being so close to both of them made you warm and tingly in a different way than being alone with him. Plus you had to deal with your asshole of a boyfriend.

You knew Chase was no good, but what other choice did you have? Even though you didn’t see him daily, being with him made you stay away from Lloyd, and just fantasize about him. How much damn porn have you watched about the babysitter and the dad. Fuck, how many dreams did you have of Lloyd telling you that you would take his cock.

Why did you have to make this difficult? Why could you just forget about Lloyd and his fucking arms? And the need to see what he looked like with no shirt on. You bet he sleeps in boxers. Maybe completely nude. Shaking your head you back into the dining area and freeze. Why is him being with his little tiny daughter hotter?

Holding up one of her hands he slowly counts each of her fingers, moving onto the next one until getting to ten. Lloyd then reaches for a foot, pulling the socks off and she screams in laughter, “Oh, honey, are your toes ticklish?”

“You should see her when you have to clean in between them.”

“I bet you kick and giggle the whole time, huh? Do you not want to sit in your chair?”

“No, her doesn’t,” picking up her spoon, you give her a little bite of her food. Making sure that you remain close enough for Lloyd to smell you again. You did smell nice today. “Her gets all stressed out when you mess with her toes, huh, sweet girl.”

The touch is so quick, but you feel his hand on your thigh. You don’t even react, but he flinches away the second his finger touches your leg. You wish he’d keep going higher. Higher. Higher. Until he breaches your drenched hole. That’s how he made you. Soaked.

“You didn’t work late today,” you note, walking back to your chair. You take another bite while you smile at him. “How is it going?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing nothing while he nods his head, “It’s fine. Perfect. You haven’t requested any days off?”

“There’s really nowhere for me to go. I’ll go eat at the bar, and you and Lyla can bond before bedtime,” sitting at dinner with him and Lyla seems a bit too familial, and it suffocates you. You like it too much, and you need to step away.

“No,” Lloyd answers firmly. This time his swallow was of food. “No, I think you need some company. You’re around a baby that can’t talk all day. Unless you’re needing to make a phone call of course,” he had read being a stay at home mom was difficult, and to always engage in conversation when you came home. That way she didn’t get overwhelmed and feel isolated.

“I don’t,” and you didn’t want to leave him anyways. You just felt he wanted you away for whatever reason. The two of you settle in a comforting silence. Like Lloyd needed time to ground himself after whatever he did at work today. That the conversation flowing between the two of you was just as much for him as you. He seems to be seeking something more comfortable and sweet.

Stolen glances happen throughout the meal, but you’ll blame it on wanting to watch him be sweet with his daughter. While that is a bonus, the reality is you just want to look at him. Trying to keep it PG and not envision him hovering over your body with sweat glistening around his hair. Smiling as you go into a beautiful state of euphoria, and he tells you that you have to give him just one more time as tears drift down your face.

Fuck. You’re as big of a mess as your panties, and all you want is to curl into him, and let him take you down from a high of the most beautiful highs. God, you want to feel his arms wrap around you so bad. Looks like another night with your toys.

You aren’t sure why, but there is definitely a shift in the air tonight between you and Lloyd. And you sure are a glutton for punishment as you walk down to his room, but you want to just talk. You and him. There is one hundred percent no ulterior motive as you take each calculated step down the hall in your kinda sexy sleeper set. Maybe your ass is hanging out of the booty shorts, but who cares.

Tiptoeing down to his room, you lift your hand to knock, and then you hear a sound that almost knocks you to your knees. Your name. But not just your name, panting. Deep breaths. He is talking to an imaginary version of yourself. Not just talking, he was fucking the imaginary you, and you are right here!

He’s a vocal lover, and it causes you to drip. Weak from the way he was imagining fucking you. You knew there was a shift, but you couldn’t fathom Lloyd whimpering your name. Not Dolly, but your name. You couldn’t have prepared yourself to hear his grunts, and his coaching you through orgasms. You want to really orgasm. You don’t want that fake you to have all the fun. You’re throbbing all over, and ready to just break down the door, and jump on his cock.

This isn’t fair! It’s cruel torture. You find yourself nearly humping the air, and ready to beg for Lloyd to fuck you like that. Why can’t you have him? Oh, that’s right, a dumbass boyfriend. Breakup. No. Breaking up entails too many temptations now that you have heard — you stop walking, listening so intently as he squeaks out your name.

“Oh fuuuuck,” he sounds delicious as he comes undone. You want him to come in you. No. On you. No. What did you want? Him. His dick. His baby. More of his babies. Fuck. You’re fucked. This was fucked up. You haven’t kissed him and you want his babies? This was only a weird kink because you see how he fathers, and your mind and your desire to have a family is altering your usual steady mind.

Now you need to angrily get off. Fuck him. If he wants to fuck an imaginary you, you’ll fuck an imaginary him. It is only fair. You stomp back to your room. Yanking off your stupid sleep set. You’re quaking. Slamming a pillow down on the bed, you straddle it. It isn’t your finest hour, but you grind over the satin. Tweaking your nipples, and imagine his hands on your hips, guiding you to go faster, and you do. You just need to get off. You don’t want sweet, you want angry.

Fucking the frustration and confusion right onto the pillow so hard you actually feel him. His hands coast down your sides, and tighten on your hips. His mouth caresses the sensitive column of your neck, giving it a tiny little nibble, “I knew you’d be frustrated. Show me how angry you are.”

With your chest heaving as you bare down harder. You want to make Lloyd proud at how good you can ride his dick. “There’s a good girl. Let it all out,” his hands come around you as he fondles your chest. God he feels good.

“Lloyd, I’m coming.”

“Lloyd?” The grip on your tits turn harsh, and you stop moving, looking over your shoulder. Fuck. “You want to tell me why my whore of a girlfriend is fucking the boss? I knew it, you goddamn slut. He’s just using you to fulfill the babysitter fantasy.”

“W-w-why are you in here?” You can’t think properly as Chase’s cold blue eyes stare into you with so much anger. Hatred. You’ve never seen him look at you like this, but you have felt his wrath. You grab onto his hands, trying to pry them off your chest with no luck.

“I was going to make sweet love to my girlfriend, and I saw you naked and fucking a damn pillow, and wanted to have fun. This whole fucking time you were pretending it was Lloyd?” You shake your head aggressively trying to push his hands off you. He is too loud. “You want something to fuck, I’ll give you something.”

“No, Chase, don’t. He’ll hear. Stop, please, don’t,” your voice whispers through your tears as he pushes you forward. All the way down until your face is squished up against the blanket. Running his fingers through your folds. “Chase, don’t he’ll kill you. Please, stop.”

“This is how wet you get? You’re a fucking slut for the boss, huh?” You feel his blunt head at your entrance, and you clench your eyes closed. You could scream, and Lloyd will hear you, but so could Lyla. Chase would surely be killed. Or you can just sit like this, and take it until he is finished.

“Now, be a slut for me. It’s all I ask,” you gulp as he pushes through your walls. Fist clinging to the bed. “There’s a good girl. Since you’re dreaming about him, call me daddy.”

“No,” sick fuck. You didn’t want him on you. You didn’t want him touching you. You didn’t want to give that name to him. You aren’t even sure how you feel about that naturally coming out with Lloyd.

“Go on, you slut, call me your daddy. Tell daddy to fuck you like the bad girl you are. Let me ruin this little cunt.”

“No!” You didn’t care. He just drives harder into you. “No! Get off!” You hate him. It’s over. You didn’t care what Lloyd did to him or his body. He is the asshole. “Stop!” You can’t even pretend that he’s Lloyd. It’s all wrong. So very wrong. Lloyd would be hard, but tender. Demanding, but giving. This is just wrong. Shutting down everything that is happening in the present. Get out of reality, and go into your fake world where everything is perfect. Don’t let Chase have this.

And then he’s all pulled out of you. “She said stop, you fucking piece of shit!” Your mind shifts into an altered state as you try to take yourself out of this situation. Memories of someone else in your house. Your mom, screaming. The sound of fists hitting bone, and the sickening sound of blood. Your dad, screaming to get back in your room.

So many memories of your dad you blacked out, and that’s where you wanted them. Buried deep in the depths of your brain, and to never be seen or thought of again. They are cruel men with a deadly job. They protect their own, but invite evil into their homes. Close your eyes, and pretend that nothing is happening. Because nothing is happening.

Sing so you can ignore whatever is happening behind you. Remember your day with Lyla and how pure it was. How she smiled up at you like you had hung the moon. Lyla couldn’t remember the neglect her mom issued her, and you would make sure she didn’t know what being without a mother’s love was like. Lyla is what keeps you sane while hell is trying to suck you back to reality.

“Hey, sweetheart. Shh,” he covers your back with a blanket, but you keep your eyes closed. “Can I carry you out of here?” You nod your head quickly, and feel his thick arms pick you up bridal style. Keeping your body close to his warmth as he carries you out of your room, and you finally open your eyes.

You see the marred knuckles clinging to your body, and deadpan, “You need to wash your hands.”

“I need to make sure you’re not hurt. Did he hurt you?” Even though he’s trying to be soft, you see the edge of darkness cover his eyes. You don’t know if he killed Chase or he was badly misshapen. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care anymore.

“No, he didn’t.”

“What happened?” There are two options here; lie through your teeth and tell him a bent story or tell him the absolute truth.

“He saw me, and I was…I was — and I said your name, while he was behind me, and I didn’t know. And then…then…th-th-then he wanted me to call him — to call him daddy,” you hiccup as he carries you into the living room, and sits you on the couch softly.

You sniffle, trying to calm your sobs as you look at his hands again. They are hideous. They’ll be badly bruised and swollen come tomorrow, “Your hands. Go wash them.”

“No.”

“I don’t…I don’t like the look of blood,” he gives you a nod, and stands up to wash his hands. He wears boxers in his sleep. You wish you were in a place you could enjoy the sight of him in just boxers, but you’re just numb. So numb that even Lloyd almost naked does nothing for you.

“Ari, I need a clean up, and a new apartment,” what an odd thing to say. “I don’t want it in this building at all. Don’t ask questions. This is immediate,” walking back into the living room, he stares at you. You’re in a state of shock, and your eyes are glassed over into nothing.

“Can I get you some clothes?” What? You look down your body, and pull your blanket tighter around you, then nod your head, and he’s gone again. It all went wrong because you wanted to hear the night life. How could you be so stupid to think you could just live your life carelessly, and Chase wasn’t going to ruin it.

Returning, Lloyd sits on the table in front of you, and starts to dress you. There’s nothing demanding or harsh about his movements. It’s caring. Loving. Nurturing. Instead of trying to black everything out, you watch him. You’re completely nude in front of him but he’s not fucking you with his eyes. He’s making sure you’re alright. Tenderly pulling over your top, and then sliding up some shorts on your legs.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is so meek, and you hate it.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“This isn’t your job.”

“The hell it isn’t. This isn’t your job. My job is to protect you, and I failed. How long had he been here?” You shrug, because you aren’t sure when the lines of your imagination and reality blurred. Didn’t know when Lloyd’s hands morphed into Chase’s. “I’m going to get us another apartment. You’re also going to have a security detail, and this isn’t for discussion.”

You just nod your head, not in the mood for arguing. You’re just cold. And then a cry. “Lyla,” you jump up without hesitation, practically sprinting to her room, and she sits up in the bed, crying and pouting for you. “Hey, baby. Did you miss me or do you need a diaper change? You’ve been sleeping through the night almost every night. C’mere.”

She isn’t wet, so you just hold her tight to your chest, and her cries start to soften. “You need someone to hold you, too, huh? Shh, I’m right here, baby,” you rock her in your arms, and turn to see Lloyd standing in the doorway.

He’s like a dream, nearly naked and shadowed in her doorway. It hurts to look at him sometimes. Always being something you shouldn’t desire. “She just wanted to be held.”

“You said, too,” he’s being odd this evening. You don’t understand what he means until he walks right up to you, lifting you up again. Carrying you and Lyla over to her rocker, he sits down, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “If you want to be held just ask.”

“Okay,” he holds you like you’ve never been held before. How can something feel so secure and soft at the same time? He is adding just the right amount of pressure on your body, and you start to relax in his arms, and Lyla is right with you. Yawning so big as her eyes get heavier. “Am I stupid?”

“No.”

“Do you know what I was doing when he came into my room?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I was — you know on a pillow, and I said your name, and it pissed him off,” you don’t have to see Lloyd’s face to know he’s smiling. Of course he would smile when it came to you ultimately choosing Lloyd over Chase, “I heard you tonight,” he hums, but still doesn’t say anything. “In your fantasy how was I positioned?”

“On your back. Your legs wrapped tight against me, a pillow under your lower back to get this amazing angle, and you're pulling me so deep into your warmth, and I can’t get enough of watching you come over my cock,” it’s your turn to hum as you look down at the baby. She is so cozy, but asleep, and giving you nothing but her sweet face to distract you. This is far from an appropriate conversation with her present.

“How deep are you?”

Lloyd takes a deep breath. Kissing on top of your head, “Sweetheart, I’m so deep that you can fill me in your throat.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Silence falls over the room, and it becomes too apparent what is going on in your room. You heard Lloyd call someone, and they are doing what he asked, cleaning up whatever mess was made. You lift up off his shoulder, and stare at him. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“I don’t think this is the right time now.”

“Are you scared?”

“I’m terrified,” you gulp, averting your eyes back down to the baby. How could a man like Lloyd be terrified? And why? “And she’s only part of the reason I’m scared.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“I said I didn’t think this is the right time for me to show you I’m not lying, considering the things that have transpired this evening. But whenever you’re ready for me to show you exactly how deep I can go inside your body, but also — inside your heart, I’ll only be a few doors away. But I don’t want to just fuck you like an animal. I want to hold you and…my daughter at night, just like this. You need to be held just as much as she does, so let me. But for tonight, instead of showing you just how right you would fit me inside you, let me tear down the walls you’ve built up, and show you there are good men out there. Men that stand on the things that they say. Let me just hold you, so you can finally relax for the first time in years because you don’t have to worry about that prick ever coming into your life and hurting you ever again.”

Your vision becomes blurry as tears fill your eyes, and you let them fall down your cheeks one by one. It’s freeing to know that Chase can’t ever try and pick apart your brain and memories that you have no desire to explore. Lloyd isn’t just taking your walls down, he’s obliterating them. You didn’t even realize the amount of walls you put up for your own self preservation. “I hate them.”

“Me, too. I hate anyone that has ever hurt you or made you feel you aren’t worth it. Because you are.”

“You don’t know me.”

”I know more about you than you could ever understand,” the cameras. All those times you felt like you were being watched. It all makes sense. “Yes, there’s some in your room. And yes, you knew and pointed yourself right at them.”

“Did not.”

“Want to see the footage?” You snort, shaking your head no. At least you didn’t have to end the night on something as severe as whatever Lloyd did to Chase. “Little minx. I’ve got videos, too. Yeah, I thought maybe it was a coincidence, until you flashed the camera and smiled. You’re smarter than people give you credit for.”

“I was just taking a guess,” Lloyd does not believe a word you say. “I did. It was just a guess. Why did you have cameras in my bedroom? Are they in my bathroom, too?”

“No, I don’t get off on that.”

“You just get off on me in my room?”

Lloyd rolls his eyes with a smile. Is that what you think this is? He’s trying to figure out how to say it without being too forward, and there isn’t another way, “Were you just in your room when you had your legs spread pointing to the camera, shoving your fingers in that tight little cunt, and whimpering my name? Were you just in your room when you’d prance out of the bathroom completely naked, and do a little shimmy right in the camera? Were you just in your room every time that you were fucking that pillow and saying Daddy fuck me harder.”

Oh my god. “Should I go on?”

“No! There is a baby in my arms.”

“Fine, admit you want me to fuck you, and you want to call me daddy,” you didn’t have to admit shit. You do like when his cocky little self comes out though. “Go on, say it.”

He wants you to say it? Then he’s getting the full on works, “I want you to fuck me so deep and hard, daddy. I want you to come in my pretty little pussy, and then I want you to fuck it deeper with your fingers,” Lloyd bites on his lip, and looks up at the ceiling. Good. He wants to try and torture you, he’s getting it right back. “But not tonight.”

“No, not tonight. You’ve been through enough,” you really have. And you just want to feel the warmth coming off his body. “I want you to pick out which room is Lyla’s in the new apartment. She…” it’s too soon. Lloyd can’t ask much more of you. You’re vulnerable at the moment, and he’s taken advantage enough, “She already looks at you like her mom,” fuck fuck fuck.

“Is it weird to say I look at her like mine, too?” He sighs, and shakes his head no. He hopes you really let this conversation sink in before you come crawling into his bed. Because he will fuck you, and he will only hold back if you ask him. If your body shows him, he’ll stop. He wants you more than anything he has ever wanted before and it terrifies him. Because now he has two things he’s willing to kill for, but worse, willing to die for.

Terrifying.

Next

Masterlist

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[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

If I Don't Make It Back from Where I've Gone

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends series Words: 3,916 Warnings/tropes: description of broken bones, PTSD triggered hallucinations, fighting against friendlies trying to help, forced sedation, hospital, medical restraints, this is a whump fic

Description: During the Council room fight against Viktors puppet, Jayce's leg brace breaks. Losing that support aggravates his broken limb, the pain overwhelming and Mel has to watch him become lost in his own mind, fighting like a wounded animal against any attempts to help him.

Read on Ao3

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Jayce barely felt the first pop as the clasp around his ankle broke under the strain. The hodge-podged brace wasn’t designed for him to be throwing his weight around, twisting and dodging hits, let alone swinging the weight of the corrupted hammer in his hands.

What he did feel quite clearly was the bones grinding together as the clasp broke and the supports slid out of position just as he shifted his weight onto his left leg, what little of the bones that had mended breaking once again, a blast of agony shooting up his leg. His vision went white and he choked on a scream as he collapsed to the floor.

When he opened his eyes all he could see were the dancing shadows on the walls of the pit, he could hear the newts and rats scrabbling along the walls, and all he knew was pain. Had he even made it out of the pit? Had that only been a dream? All that pain and agony for nothing?

All that pain and agony and he's still trapped in the bottom of this literal hell hole.

From the shadows emerged one of those husks, lithely walking directly towards him. Unlike the corroded and broken ones up above, this one was beautiful. It glimmered a pearlescent white with golden accents around its joints, across its chest and the otherwise featureless face. It tilted its head at him, at an angle that was most unnatural. There was no mouth, but a sound emanated from it, vaguely in the shape of words but he couldn’t hear them, every other sense overwhelmed with the agony in his body.

Past the husk he caught a glimpse of a shadow, moving fast as it sprinted behind the husk, the shadow's eyes glowing with a golden light that spread across its form, illuminating symmetrical lines that wrapped around its body. The shadow raised its hands, blasting a shield of golden light towards the husk, and in turn, Jayce.

Fight or flight managed to overpower the agony coursing through him as he shoved himself into a seated position, knowing his legs wouldn’t be able to support him, he hoisted the hammer into his lap and fired a blast that hit the husk just as the golden shield hit it from behind. The shield held just as long as the beam from the hammer, and as both dissipated, the husk fell to the floor with a hole through its chest.

Jayce saw the light emanating from the shadow slowly dim and then extinguish completely before the shadow collapsed to its knees, head hanging low.

The distraction of apparent danger having passed, the agony poured back into his body, his mind quickly overwhelmed by it and from there he was no longer aware.

~~~

Despite being so new to having abilities to begin with, the amount of energy that it drained from her body was still frustrating. Mel locked her elbows, refusing to let herself hit the floor completely as she blinked back the dark spots in her eyes. Fatigue tugged at her consciousness, beckoning her to just close her eyes and succumb to sleep.

She couldn’t let it win, she needed to get up again, keep pushing.

She pushed herself to her feet before her vision even cleared properly, straining to get her eyes to focus. There was a guttural sound that filled the council chamber, echoing off of the polished stone, that made her skin crawl, the hair on the back of her neck bristle with the intensity.

On the floor in front of her lay the husk of Viktors puppet, a hole through its chest and a milky white substance leaking from the fingerprint shaped holes around its face plate, completely inert.

Just beyond it, trapped in the circle of the council table, Jayce writhed on the floor, his back pressed against the wall of the table as he kicked out with his right leg, trying to push himself further back, as though trying to escape from something. His face contorted in pain, the guttural cry that filled the room being torn from behind clenched teeth, the tautness of his jaw expressed by the protuberance of the muscles down the side of his neck. 

“Jayce,” she called to him, clutching onto the edge of the table where it left space for someone to pass through, leaning on it for support. “Jayce, it’s dead, he’s… gone.”

Her voice seemed to fall on deaf ears as he continued to thrash on the ground. She took another couple steps towards him, sinking to her knees as his eyes snapped open, staring in her direction but through her at the same time. She carefully reached out to him, hopeful that a gentle touch could calm him, bring him back to her.

He slapped her hand away before she could touch him, his hand wrapping around her wrist just long enough for him to shove Mel away from him. She landed hard on her hip with a groan, her legs tangling with the husk on the floor. She quickly kicked it away and brought her focus back to Jayce.

He had twisted away from her, his shoulders hunched and one arm curled over his head, hiding his face from her sight. His left leg extended uselessly in front of him, the other knee drawn up to his heaving chest as he tried to make himself as small as possible.

The scream of agony had cut out and instead she heard him repeating a string of words, interrupted by hiccuping sobs. “Nononono, you’re not real, you’re not here, don’t touch me, don’t touch me, nononono…”

“Jayce, please,” she settled on her knees again, keeping a respectful distance between them. “I am here, you’re safe.”

The mantra repeated, his head shaking from side to side as if to shake off her words. The hand of the arm curled over his head twisted into a fist as the other scrambled across the floor, blindly searching for something. The hammer lay just outside of his reach and she had to hope that he wasn’t aware enough to be able to find it. 

“I’m going to get help Jayce,” she said. “Try not to move.”

She carefully pushed herself to her feet, keeping her eyes on him as long as she could as she slipped out of the circle of the table and then ran for the door. She pushed it open, glancing left and then right down the hallway until she spotted guards come around the corner. They both startled as they saw how exhausted she looked as she beckoned them over.

“I need medics brought here immediately,” she paused, knowing what else would be needed, but loathe to ask for it. “And enforcers to assist them.”

“Right away, ma’am,” they nodded, one running back down the hall they came from as the other joined her in the council room. “Are you alright, Councillor?”

“I’ll be fine,” she brushed off their concern, “It’s him that I am worried about.”

Jayce hadn’t moved, still huddled against the table. The guard's boots scuffed loudly against the floor, the only other noise in the echoing chamber aside from Jayce’s babbling, which stopped suddenly at the noise. Through the crook of his elbow, Mel could see his eye open, staring blindly in their direction. The whites of his eye had almost completely turned red, the inflamed veins of his eyes creating a horrible mosaic across them.

“Councillor Talis?” The guard gasped.

Jayce kicked out, once again trying to get as far away from them as possible. He followed the curve of the table, any slight angle further away from Mel and the guard was a win, his broken leg dragging behind him, the broken brace still barely holding on.

One more push with his good leg ended any progress as his boot slipped on the polished floor, unable to control where his left leg lay, his foot collided with the other and he collapsed with a scream that echoed through the chamber.

The guard immediately flew into motion, Mel calling for them to stop as they hurried to Jayces side with a leap over the husk. The moment their hand touched Jayce’s shoulder, he lashed out. Even weaponless, his arms were still strong, and he whipped out a brutal punch, catching the guard directly across the jaw. They stumbled back in shock, holding their jaw as they stared wide-eyed at him.

“Get back!” Mel ordered them, trying to keep her voice low. “Don’t touch him until the medics get here.”

“R-right, Councillor.” The guard stumbled their way back over to her. 

A lump lodged itself in her throat, making it hard to breathe as she couldn’t do anything but listen to Jayce groaning in agony as they waited for the medics to arrive. Her chest ached, as though someone had reached inside and rended her heart in two.

She couldn’t even tell how much time had passed before the medics and enforcers barged into the room, but it felt entirely too long. She stopped them before they could get too close.

“Councillor Talis is not in his right mind right now-”

“He’s fighting like a wounded animal!” The guard cut in, gesturing at the blooming bruise on their jaw. Mel turned to look at them and they withered under her glare. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Any attempt to get near him, he lashes out, but he needs treatment.”  

The head medic nodded, opening the bag slung against her hip. “I hesitate to suggest it, Councillor, but if he is a danger to those around him, perhaps it would be best to sedate him?”

Mel sighed, folding her hands in front of her. “I didn’t want to suggest it myself, but yes, it likely would be the safest option.”

She desperately wanted to look away as the medic and three enforcers approached Jayce but she steeled herself, pushing her shoulders back and putting on a strong face. 

The guard was right. As he screamed at them, the pained yell behind clenched teeth sounded more like a growl from a wounded animal than a man, especially one of his stature, made only worse by the grunts of effort as he fought against the enforcers. Two of them pinned his arms and shoulders to the wall of the table as the third did his best to hold his legs down, the hand on his left knee only making the pain worse it seemed. Jayce lurched against them, banging his head against the table as he fought before he managed to shrug off the enforcer on his left arm, immediately lunging forward to punch the one on his legs, sending him reeling.

“Jayce, please!” Mel couldn’t hide her distress anymore, her voice trembling.

“We need someone else in here, hold him down!” The medic called out.

“Jayce, be still!” Mel raised shaky hands, golden ribbons of magic wrapping around them. 

Her words unheeded, Jayce continued to flail against the enforcer holding his right arm, trying to punch or claw at him in a desperate attempt to get free. He had rolled towards the enforcer, making it difficult for anyone to get a grip on his left arm and restrain it again. The medic stood just out of reach, stunned by the ferocity of his fighting.

Everyone not currently in the midst of fighting Jayce startled as Mel screamed, her golden magic lashing out as it formed a bubble above Jayce. She pushed it down on his shoulder, pinning him against the floor, his back hunching as his shoulders were forced towards each other, his arms trapped in front of him. He still scrabbled against the enforcer, his entire focus still on trying to get the man off of his arm despite the pressure pushing down on him.

“Get in there!” Mel yelled at the medic, who was already scrambling to get close enough. The position made it awkward, but she finally managed to get a hand on the side of his head, pinning his head down long enough to sink the needle into the side of his neck, depressing the plunger to inject the dosage.

Just as quickly as she got in there, the medic retreated and Mel dropped the shield, exhaustion washing through her once again as she dropped to her knees, dark spots filling her vision as she curled in on herself.

She must have blacked out for a moment and came to with the medic kneeling over her, a worried look on her face. “Councilor Medarda, can you hear me?”

Mel nodded before clearing her throat. “Yes, I’m okay.” Her head was pounding and she felt like she could sleep for a week. Hopefully soon, but not yet. She could still hear grunts of effort, and Jayce’s pained yelling, though it sounded weaker. “I thought you sedated him, was it not strong enough?” 

The medic helped her to her feet, keeping a hand near Mels elbow until she could stand confidently, and looked towards Jayce with a sympathetic look on her face. The enforcers had managed to pin his limbs down again, four of them working together this time to hold him, but he still writhed under their hands. He was more or less upright again, his back pressed against the table again. “It was enough, but it takes a few minutes to take effect, especially since he’s fighting it.”

Another painfully long minute later, his movements became sluggish, his arms slowly going limp in the enforcer's hands. His shoulders sagged and soon the only thing keeping his body upright were the hands holding him still. He could barely keep his head up anymore, but Jayce’s bloodshot eyes found Mels and for the first time since his brace broke, it felt like he actually truly saw her. His face was already wet with tears, but more welled up in his eyes as his face scrunched up, a sob ripping out from deep within his chest. His head drooped and his whole body slumped forward, limp under their hands.

They glanced at the medic, reluctant to let go until she gave them the all clear. She waded through the tangle of limbs, getting as close as she could to check him over. Carefully she lifted his head, tilting it back so she could check his eyes, gently pushing his eyelids open one at a time to shine a flashlight in them, then checking his pulse and breathing. She nodded, satisfied.

“He’s out. Lay him down and get the stretcher in here.”

Mel gasped, belatedly realizing she had been holding her breath the whole time. She could hear others in the group sigh in relief too.

“We need to transport to medical as quickly as possible, he won’t be out for very long and he needs monitoring, especially if I have to give him more.” She waved them ahead, one of her assistants keeping pace next to the stretcher to monitor Jayce in her stead. She turned to Mel. “Councilor Medarda, I must insist you come with us, I want you to get checked out since you fainted.”

Mel nodded, letting the medic lead her towards the door. “I don’t want him out of my sight right now, anyways.”

~~~

The last he could remember, he had been fighting against an onslaught of shadows, deep in the pit where he had struggled to survive for months. Again. He fought for months, he had dragged himself out of that hole, deep in the heart of Zaun, climbed and climbed until he reached the highest point of Piltover, made it all the way back to the world he belonged to, just to get a taste of freedom. 

Only to be dragged back into suffering again. Shadows that overwhelmed him, pressed down on every broken and aching part of his body that sent his mind into a frenzy. Adrenaline and agony,  the only things keeping him moving through it all, fighting as long as he could find strength.

And then the image had fractured around him, there was warm light shining in through a dome above him, reflecting dazzling gold into his sensitive eyes that made him flinch. He couldn’t move, his aching body was weighed down and yet his head felt like it was floating, not fully a part of himself anymore. Everything around him shifted, wherever he looked, the image changed, flipping between the depressingly familiar walls of the pit, then the warm light on the cold polished stone of the council room.

The golden light shifted and through it, he saw Mel. She was looking directly at him, her usually well composed face flooded with despair. The light around her highlighted the tears pooling at the edges of her eyes. His heart broke at the sight. I caused that, didn’t I? She’s crying because of me. 

He had been aware long enough to feel his own tears fall on already damp cheeks, a sob tearing through his aching throat, and then nothing, floating off into the blessed abyss.

When awareness returned, he was warm. Warmer than he could remember being in a long time, his body cradled on what felt like a cloud. 

This had to be a dream, when was the last time he had felt this level of comfort? What delusion had his mind retreated to? Maybe this was it, he was finally dying and his mind was bringing him to a place of comfort before it all ended. Free of pain in his final moments.

Or close to free of pain. He could still feel an ache deep in his leg, an itch around the rune stone in his wrist, the pain dulled but there. It was as though the pain had become so intrinsically part of him, that his mind couldn’t even completely get rid of it.

His mouth was dry too. He swallowed hard, trying to encourage some saliva to form and only discovered more pain. His throat felt like it had been torn apart from the inside, like claws dragged down the inside of his fragile oesophagus. He grunted at the sensation, the slight use of his vocal chords feeling just as awful.

“Jayce?” A sleepy voice to his right, somewhere in the darkness, caught him off guard, his breath halting in his aching throat. “Hey, breathe, you’re going to be okay.”

He tried to remember how to do just that as his mind swirled in confusion. Who? Breathe, come on! Who was that? Focus on breathing.

He finally managed to draw in a breath, letting it out before sucking in another, all the while his throat raged about it.

“There you go, that’s good, Jayce.” He could sob in relief, holding onto those words. “Can you open your eyes now? The sedative should be wearing off.”

His eyes? Sedative? His mind tried to process the words, trying to put together the correlation between them. Oh. It’s dark because your eyes are closed, genius. Time to focus on that task. 

The first slight flutter of his eyelids revealed it to be brighter than he expected and he winced, his brow furrowing as his eyes instinctively tried to squint against the light.

“Here, I’ll turn it down.” 

“Mel?” He finally managed to choke out her name, recognition finally dawning on him. His voice sounded terrible even to him, like he’d gargled rocks.

“Yes, I’m here. Okay, try again, the lights aren’t so bright anymore,” her voice was soft, speaking quietly. “And try not to speak. Your throat must be sore.”

“I’m so sorry Mel,” his throat was screaming at him to stop, but he couldn’t, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as he managed to open his eyes again, the tears poured out too, taking some of the grit of dried tears from before with them. The room was blessedly dim, the sconces on the wall lowered to near candlelight levels. He immediately recognized one of the fancier suites at the Piltover hospital. He could finally see her, poised as ever on the edge of a comfortable chair pulled up next to his bed. Her hands were folded in her lap and he so desperately needed to hold one of them, feel the warmth of her hands in his.

He moved to do so, though his hand was immediately halted. Looking down, he found his hands restrained, soft cuffs around his wrists that tied him to the rails of the bed.

“Wha-”  

“I’m sorry, it was just a precaution,” she gently reached out, taking his hand. “You fought us very hard, and the doctors were worried you would start fighting again as soon as you woke up. You seem coherent now, but they told me to leave them on until they could evaluate you.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard, his throat twinging. “There was so much pain. I wasn’t aware of anything, I couldn’t recognize that anyone was helping me, every touch just caused more pain.”

Mel nodded. “We realized too late how bad your condition was,” she looked down at his left leg and he followed her gaze. His leg was wrapped up, a frame similar to his brace, strapped around his thigh and ankle, holding everything in place and propped up. “The doctors wanted to wait until you were awake and aware before any decisions about your leg were made.”

“It’s pretty bad?”

“It looks bad, yes.”

“Feels pretty bad, too.” Jayce said, letting his head flop back onto the pillow. Above and to his left hung an IV bag, trailing down and into the crook of his elbow. From there, he couldn’t see the labels, but he didn’t really care either way.

 Proper treatment had felt so far out of reach, the initial injury already so long ago, he never thought he would get any. Now that he was here, what were the options? The bone had torn through skin, even after he managed to push it back in an attempt to set it, small shards had worked their way out, so was there even enough bone left to heal? Not to mention the infection in the wound that he knew still festered. The more he thought about it, the more surprised he was to have woken up without the leg already amputated.

He startled slightly as the bed started to raise, bringing him somewhat closer to a seated position. Mel released the controls and reached for a cup sitting nearby, silently offering to help him drink, which he gratefully accepted.  

“Slowly now, don’t over do it,” she said, pulling the cup back for a moment with a slight smile. He felt like he could chug the whole thing in two mouthfuls if she would let him, sore throat be damned. 

As soon as the glass was empty and returned to the table, he dropped his head back to the pillow and closed his eyes. He felt exhausted. Whatever was in the IV must have dulled the aches in his body, but without that particular distraction, he was all too aware of just how damn tired he was. When was the last time he got some decent sleep? He genuinely couldn’t remember.

“Get some sleep. The doctors will want to talk to you soon, you should sleep until they get here.”

Jayce hummed in agreement. He felt her warm hand slip into his, her thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of his as he drifted off to sleep. 

[blackjackkent]

I posted a video of the cutscene of the brain bursting out into the city during Hector's run last go-round, so I'm just going to re-link that here, but suffice it to say the civilians of Baldur's Gate are suddenly having a really bad day.

-----

Rakha slowly comes back to consciousness amid the soft blue-tinged light of the Astral Sea. Her head is still aching, though it is no longer the high, sharp pain of the brain's psionic power, but the lower thumping bruise-pain where she struck her head on the rock.

For a moment she doesn't move, just stares up at the star-strewn void around them, watching the Weave ripple and twist.

She needs to get up. She needs to keep fighting. And yet that despair still hovers so near, so close.

"I pulled you out just in time." The Emperor is standing over her, its tentacles twitching as it stares down dispassionately at her sprawled form. "The situation is worse than I thought."

With a summary jerk, it twitches a hand against the Weave and yanks Rakha bodily up onto her feet, heedless of her pain or disorientation. "This is an elder brain no longer," it tells her curtly. "The magic of the crown has caused it to evolve. It has become something more - a Netherbrain."

Rakha steadies herself on her feet as it releases her. Quickly her eyes flick around, taking in the landscape around her. Her friends are all there, all having been yanked through the portal. Wyll is alive, safe - for the moment; he's crouched with Minsc next to Jaheira, helping her sit up.

Lae'zel is already on her feet in a guard position, her sword up, staring at the Emperor with baleful dislike. The others are all sprawled around the area, slowly recovering themselves, crawling into sitting positions.

She should be grateful, perhaps, that the Emperor saved them. It might have all been over then and there, but they still live. There is still a fight to be had ahead, and there could have been nothing at all.

But she is so tired, and in no mood to give credence to the Emperor for generosity or kindness. Like everything else - like the brain itself - it is simply trying to use her for its own ends.

"Did you expect this?" she asks harshly.

"I was as surprised as you were," the Emperor says coolly. "It has been anticipating our every move from the start." Its tentacles twitch again with an air of agitation, frustration. "I underestimated it. We will need to rethink our plan."

-----

Had a quick talk with all of the party members before heading down for our (semi)final showdown with the Emperor. Everyone's in pretty good spirits, considering the situation, which is definitely helping to keep Rakha from falling back into that despair that nearly caught up with her. She's so tired, but everyone is standing with her and determined to finish out what they've started.

Particular words of encouragement from:

Shadowheart ("Think of all we've been through just to get to this moment. That wasn't luck. That was us.")

Minthara ("We are in the midst of a battle against a being that can kill worlds with a thought, and we are still standing.")

Halsin ("Think of all that we've already survived. Our foes should quake to see us approach them.")

Jaheira ("This is not my first time fighting for the fate of this damned city. I thought I'd die in any one of the last three apocalypses. I have been wrong every time. Long may it continue.")

But by far the best interaction, and I think probably the most heartening to Rakha in this moment, is with Minsc.

"The illithid lied about his nether-pebbles. Only say the word, and Minsc will feed them to him."

"Do you think we can win this?"

"I think you are thinking too much, my friend. That is why your brain-worm grows fat, while mine own withers from starvation. You are a sorcerer, are you not? There is more magic in your blood than in all the brain's filthy fluids!"(*)

"But... if Minsc's words are not enough, then listen to those of one far wiser than he."

Boo: *Heroic squeaking!*

Boo: *Dramatic squeaking!*

Boo: *Motivational squeaking!*

"There, my friend. You ask if Minsc thinks this battle can be won? Minsc and Boo have no need of thinking. Minsc and Boo *know.*"

-----

(*) Minsc has a different line here for every player class. I dug this one out of the dialogue files because in-game he used the line for Rakha's levels in Bard, which were a lot less apropos to her personality.

[redstairs]

How can I not ask for a snippet from Little Ada??? Pretty please?

Of course!

You know the context, but for the others: this is a one shot fic about Ada's life as a lower deck orphan on a voidship - both before her awakening as a Psyker and immediately afterwards. After her capacities reveal themselves, she is locked inside a special cell, where she waits on a Black Ship. A freshly recruited acolyte of the Inquisition has been summoned to check on the incident - someone she will meet again later, once she becomes the Rogue Trader.

Through the slit between the two metal panels, Ada watched grandma Nel sit close to the candles, clutching a bowl. She could smell the soup from her position on the floor. Hunger always made her senses sharper. Old Crack sat down next to the wrinkled woman, chewing on something old and crunchy.

"So, what did the red robes want?" She asked with her croaked voice, blowing on the bowl.

Ada's stomach grumbled, and she cursed it. Now was not the time to be vocal about the fact it was empty.

Old Crack spat out something, missing the wick of one of the candles. The light flickered.

"Same old. Fuel pipe is losing a too big amount of pessentages again. They want to send some of them small ones crawling through to check for issues."

"What dey offering?"

"A good deal. Stack o' ration cards, discarded clothes and rags, bunch of metal we can make the small ones sort and resell."

Someone pulled on Ada's clothes. She cursed silently at the interruption and turned her head to a small, blonde boy.

"Ada, can I have mister Squibbles?"

"Of course you can." She reached behind her for her old ragdoll, and pressed it in the child's hands. She was starting to feel too old for it, she was a whole 8 years after all, and she was working hard now. Still, she preferred to only give him out on loan. The little boy crawled back to a heap of rags on the floor, and Ada glued her eye back to the small split, hooking the red curls behind her ears to make sure she heard better.

"... how about Bitta?"

"Too small."

"So Kiko then?"

"Yeh, maybe, if you send Ada along, because otherwise she'll get lost."

Ada repressed another curse. The fuel pipes were a job that paid well, because it was so bad. The techpriests would only lower the fuel output for a handful of minutes, to drain a section of the pipe. And by drained, they meant that the children would still be walking through the stinking liquid up to their calves, leading to burning skin and blisters for days afterwards. Sometimes they added more current to compensate, and then you had to make sure it didn't drag you with it. Meanwhile you would feel around the pipes on your hands and knees, trying to find asperities, holes, anything unusual, fighting for air in a rebreather too big for you. If you found anything, you had to bang on the wall of the pipe, until you heard a clang back, and then hope you still had time to make it out before the needs of the reactor cores outweighed your life.

When Ada had asked why they didn't use some tools or servoskull, crying over her burnt feet, grandma Nel told her those were too valuable. When she asked why she had to do it, why her, grandma Nel had answered it was because she was small enough. Ada couldn't wait to be 9, and to become too big for the pipes.

[hes-striker]

Hospital time?

Blitzø’s smirk fades as he catches sight of the blood pooling beneath Striker, his injuries finally catching up to him after the brutal fight. He grits his teeth, grumbling under his breath as he hauls Striker into a sitting position, then braces him against his shoulder.

Blitzø: *under his breath* Can’t believe I’m doin’ this for a bastard like you… but those little brats in there better appreciate this someday.

He lifts Striker, careful not to jostle him too much as he maneuvers them both toward the exit. The trip through the abandoned factory feels like a lifetime.

Blitzø: *grumbling to himself* Alright, come on, ya stubborn son of a bitch. Just a little further.

As they step outside, the cold night air hits, and Blitzø curses, feeling Striker’s weight grow heavier as his breathing becomes shallow. Ignoring the sting in his muscles, he pushes on, knowing he’s running out of time.

Blitzø manages to flag down a passing cab demon, throwing a wad of cash at them and ordering them to drive like hell. Striker’s head slumps against his shoulder, and Blitzø mutters under his breath, feeling an odd surge of protectiveness that he refuses to acknowledge.

Blitzø: *quietly, almost to himself* You better pull through, Striker. These kids of yours aren’t gonna grow up without their crazy, half-burned daddy.

As the city lights blur past, Blitzø keeps one hand pressed to Striker’s wound, making sure he doesn’t bleed out.

——————

Blitzø stumbles through the hospital doors, practically dragging Striker into St. An’s bustling ER in the Sloth Ring. The neon lights cast a sickly glow over the rows of demons slouched in chairs, but Blitzø ignores them, heading straight for the reception desk. Striker’s face is pale, his breathing shallow, and the blood has soaked through Blitzø’s shirt.

Blitzø: *barking at the receptionist* Need a doctor, now! Got a stubborn bastard here who’s bleedin’ out!

The receptionist—a sluggish, yawning sloth-imp hybrid demon—raises an eyebrow but quickly calls over a pair of demon nurses. They rush over with a stretcher, helping Blitzø lay Striker down. As they wheel him toward the trauma room, one of the nurses glances back at Blitzø.

Nurse: *urgently* You family? Or…?

Blitzø: *grimacing* Somethin’ like that. I’ll handle the paperwork—just don’t let him die, alright? Also he’s carrying twins!

The nurse nods, disappearing with Striker through the swinging doors of the trauma room. Blitzø watches until he’s out of sight, feeling a strange pang of worry despite himself. Shaking it off, he heads to the waiting area, tapping his fingers restlessly against his thigh.

The minutes crawl by, each one amplifying his agitation. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a doctor walks over, his expression unreadable.

Doctor: He’s stable for now. We’ve cleaned and dressed his wounds, but he’s suffered some pretty significant blood loss. And from what I’m told, he’s… carrying twins?

Blitzø: *sighing, rubbing his forehead* Yeah, those’re his. Anything else we gotta know?

Doctor: *serious* His body’s under a lot of stress, especially with the injuries and the pregnancy. We’ve put him on bed rest for at least a week to prevent complications. And he’ll need calcium supplements, along with plenty of fluids and nutrients, for the babies’ development.

Blitzø: *nodding, his voice low* Alright, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Least, not until he’s patched up.

Doctor: *sighing, with a hint of amusement* Good luck with that.

As the doctor heads back, Blitzø makes his way to Striker’s room. Inside, Striker is half-awake, looking both drained and irritated as he tries to sit up, only to wince from the pain.

Blitzø: *grinning wryly as he leans in the doorway* So, do I need to tie you down to keep you from running off?

Striker glares at Blitzø, his face set in a defiant scowl, though he’s clearly worn out.

Striker: Listen, genius, if you think I wanted to get jumped by that damn imp, you’re dumber than you look. Gettin’ kidnapped wasn’t exactly my choice.”

Blitzø: *crossing his arms with a smirk* Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t make enemies outta everyone you cross paths with, you wouldn’t be here in a hospital bed—again.

Striker: *snarling* I don’t need a lecture from you, Blitzy. ‘Sides, I was handlin’ it just fine ‘til you showed up with your big damn hero act.

Blitzø rolls his eyes, stepping closer to the bed as he tosses Striker’s hat onto his lap.

Blitzø: *deadpan* Handlin’ it, huh? Yeah, looked real handled when you were bleedin’ out and unconscious. Don’t flatter yourself. The only reason I stepped in was ‘cause of those kids you’re cookin’ up. You can hate me all you want, but I’m not lettin’ you get yourself killed when you’re haulin’ around my spawn.

Striker scoffs, but there’s a flicker of something unspoken in his expression as he clutches his hat. He shifts, wincing at the soreness but keeping his glare steady.

Striker: So you’re saying you believe me now?

Blitzø: *sighing with exaggerated patience* Look, I don’t if those kids are mine. I do want to find out. But you do need help whether you want to admit it or not.

Striker stares at him, his face caught between irritation and begrudging realization. He grunts, looking away, his fingers gripping his hat tightly.

Striker: *grumbling* Fine. Just don’t go thinkin’ this means I owe you anything.

Blitzø: *smirking* Wouldn’t dream of it, partner. Now sit tight, keep your damn feet up, and try not to piss off the nurses too much. You’re stuck here for a while.

Striker just huffs in response, but for once, he doesn’t argue back, letting the silence settle around them.

[jrosa82fanfics]

Part 9 of Finding Family

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~POV SWITCH~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s in his office working on a report that needs to be turned in by the end of the week when he receives the text from Dick.

Dick: Damian just presented! Tim: Is he a beta? Dick: No… an alpha actually.

Tim is reeling from the information. Damian had been living with them for three years now, and at thirteen it was expected that he would present. Over the years they had become friends, their initial animosity disappearing quickly.

He had expected the other boy to be a beta but he supposes he’s not surprised either way. The only problem he could see arising from this is Damian going through a phase of being more aggressive, especially towards him.

After all, having two alphas in close quarters usually resulted in more fights and drama due to hormones. He hopes he’s wrong though because he doesn’t want to deal with the extra drama when he and Damian are friends.

Not to mention the other boy would soon be working in the same building as he completed an internship at Wayne Enterprise. They did not need to bring family issues into work and Tim began worrying about all the potential fights they might have during board meetings.

He had just gotten officially settled into his job and was well on his way to being CEO once Bruce stepped down. But if Damian wanted the position all to himself the two were going to fight for it and he really didn’t like the idea of having to outdo the other alpha. With all his worrying he doesn’t notice time passing him by until after waiting ten minutes Dick texts him again.

Dick: Hey R U OK? Tim: Yeah, TTYL have work 2 do. Dick: CU@ home

With that he’s finally allowed to continue writing the report but struggles to focus on it as his concern over the change in their family dynamic continues to grow. When he finally gets back to the manor he’s so stressed that he goes straight to his room, opens his laptop and continues working until dinner.

After a quick meal with Bruce he returns to his room and continues until he falls asleep with his laptop still propped up on his legs as he lays in bed. When weeks pass with no incidents he’s relieved.

Damian seemed unchanged, only his scent is really affected, and as he breathes in the bergamot and honey scent that comes from the boy now in waves as opposed to the gentler scent he had before, he didn't feel any aggression towards the other alpha.

Although Jason and Dick live together in their own home, they still visit often. As such he finds himself in the library with Jason and Damian. He’s finishing the new report he had started yesterday as the omega lays on his stomach reading and Damian sits curled close to him as he draws.

They have a new addition to the group a short while later though as Irina comes waddling in with Dick close by. “I hope you don’t mind watching her for a moment, Bruce and I wanted to do some things and I don’t want her getting bored” Dick says as he drops her off.

“Of course I don’t mind, come here sweetie.” Jason coos at his daughter as she crawls into the nest. He drops his book to scoop her up and press kisses to her face as she giggles. The sight is heart warming and Tim can’t help melting a little at the sight.

Soon things return to relatively normal as Jason reads aloud to the girl as Tim and Damian continue with their activities. “What’s that?” Irina asks as she looks over at whatever Damian’s drawing.

Tim is going to ignore it when he sees Damian blush a light pink, his complexion hiding it well, but not well enough with Tim so close.

“Nothing.” is the only reply he gives before he flips to a new page and begins drawing something else. Irina pouts a bit but is quickly distracted by Jason’s reading. It’s not the first time Damian’s been private about his art but it is intriguing nonetheless simply because of the mystery.

What is he hiding? Is he just bad at drawing or is he embarrassed at his skill level? Maybe he’s drawing something private? He isn’t sure what to make of the odd behavior but pushes the thoughts aside, after all he’s never going to get an answer.

The other alpha was extremely private when it came to his art and rarely allowed anyone to see it. Tim remembered the first time he had seen him drawing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In celebration of my birthday this upcoming week I'm going to post a snippet of my fic I haven't released yet. Just wanted to give the warning so no one get excited for a double update. I will always announce double updates in advance.

Thank you for reading!

<3J

[hellishvxbes]

                　. ˚　. ╳ ⊹ ― 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐖 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 with every kill Alastor made. In the beginning, it was easier. He killed someone, and it died for months. Occasionally, a year would go by without him needing to act on his impulses. But as the times grew worse, the depression growing, more && more chaos unleashing, he became much more ravenous than those starving for food. He maintained his position in radio. However, it was no secret that there was less need for a broadcaster besides the need for the unfortunate news of the country. Alastor felt the need to release his inner urges more && more. 

                        It was a raging BEAST he allowed himself to succumb to every time. It drove him; he had long since given up trying to fight it. So this was it, his choice. He knew exactly what would come of him, and he accepted his fate. He bid FAREWELL to sentiment, to all the things that could bring him down. Emotions, love, compassion. All weaknesses he could no longer possess if he were to become someone else, something else. Radio was his job, his passion. Murder ? This was who he was. 

                       The POWER he received as the one holding the knife's edge, the sheer excitement and exhilaration from pushing it deep into someone's flesh. If others could be addicted to booze && drugs, then he was addicted to the way the blood splattered across his face. The amount of endorphins he got from using his strength to jam the blade into someone's heart. Slitting someone's throat && watching them grasp and struggle for life. They say you could see the light fade from people when they died, but Alastor swears it only becomes swallowed up into that deep abyss. Sinking deeper like it was tied to an anchor, down into the depths, never to be seen again. 

                ❛ Now, where are you going? ❜ Alastor hums as he tosses his knife between his gloved hands like a baseball.  ❛ We're not done playing yet ❜ , his voice twists, lowering himself to the ground as his victim attempted to crawl away from him half-heartedly. It was amusing, so hilariously beautiful, watching them try so hard to fight at life. Like a worm crawling away from a bird, so inevitable of their fate as it moved closer to devour it without a second thought. Alastor's knife dug deep into the back of the man's knee, grinning devilishly as the man cried out in pure agony. Their cries always felt like a symphony, a choir filling his ears with such rich sound. Alastor's grip on the knife was deadly, digging down so hard he could swear it came out the other side.  ❛ You make things worse for yourself when you try to run. Well, haha, in this case, crawl. ❜ Alastor's grin glows under the poor lighting. He lazily flipped the man over, moving to straddle the man's lap, looking down on him as he admired the current cuts && stab wounds. He loved the way the blood slowly gushed out from the open wounds with every breath his victim took. Blood was such a lovely, vivid color. 

          ❛ Please. . .  Why are you doing this to me ? ❜ The man cried. Alastor's smile faded, feigning a confused expression as he pretended to list why he might be doing this.  ❛ Maybe I didn't have a great childhood. A horrible father figure, growing up poor, society looking down on me. Honestly, the list could be endless. . .  or. . .  maybe. . . ❜ Alastor leans in towards the man, a bloodied glove grasping harshly at the man's chin and yanking his gaze to his own.  ❛ I just enjoy the thrill of killing. ❜ Alastor's eyes widen, lifting his knife && bringing it down like a judge's gavel, casting his judgment on the soul beneath. He laughs each time his knife sinks into mangled flesh, the blood splaying on his skin like his body was a canvas && he was painting a beautifully macabre image. This was who he was, and he'd do it until his final breath. 

[jjungkooksthighs]

"You like that, omega?" He taunts. "Of course you do, you slut. You're too far gone for me, and I do not even require an aphrodisiac to do that."

There is little she can say except her alpha's name. It's a pathetic excuse for an attempt to get his attention.

She's got all of it right now.

"What is it, whore?" He goads, his fingers releasing her wrist only to find themselves wrapped around her throat. The several punctures left there sting as he squeezes the sides of her neck, the air, once again, struggling to reach her brain as her thoughts begin to go fuzzy. "You want me to show everyone that you're mine, don't you? Want them all to see how fucking much I want you just as much as you wish them to know you are fucking obsessed with me." He squeezes her poor neck tighter, and then dots are filling her vision as she weakly, limply, tries to wrap her fingers around his thick, muscled forearm. She can feel the veins that protrude from the skin there, and that only makes her wetter. "What if I bred you that night, hm? What if I fill your pussy with so much of my cum that I make you a mother, huh? You'll have to become more obedient if I put my pups in you. You won't have energy to be a fucking brat when we've got some pups running around this den."

She can't think. She fucking can't. Her sex throbs at his words, but her temples are numb with the lack of air that reaches them as he holds her tight.

She can only offer another plea. "A-alpha... please...."

"Is that all you can fucking say, whore?" His hand constricts around her throat harder. "Use your mouth before I put my fucking cock in it."

She tries to voice it out, but she can't. He squeezes harder when she tries, her grip on his forearm growing slightly tighter in desperate need of air. Her hold gets weaker and weaker, and her legs kick at his thighs just as meekly, her whimpers growing more frantic. Her chest heaves, and she feels her vision swirl when he releases her neck for just a moment, allowing her to take a huge, greedy breath in before his fingers curl around her neck again, a whine leaving her at the action. Her eyes sting as tears rapidly fill them, her sex throbbing all the more when he leans down, pushing her further into the ground and against the wall. "Use your fucking mouth, slut." He growls into her ear, but, all she can do is whimper and whine in a pathetic attempt to get him to ease up. She curls in on herself, far too intimidated to look at him now as she closes her eyes in another attempt to escape the unforgiving rage that his gaze carries. He doesn't like any of that. Not her silence, nor her refusal to look at him. In a flash, he twists her body around so she's now laid down flat on her stomach, his much larger palm twisting her arm so her wrist is pressed against the small of her back, his other hand finding purchase on her neck yet again, putting her in a partial headlock as he pulls her up, her back arching against his chest, caging her in completely in the process.

It had been no effort at all to maneuver her how he wanted. The fight had fled her body ages ago.

From where he now sits in the corner of the room, she still remains on her stomach, her arms too weak to help her up now.

It's all she can do to peer imploringly at him, her bare form twisting and turning as she attempts and fails to rise. Each time her arms fail her and give out on her, and her legs are no better. The need that pulses between them makes it impossible to do anything, and she whines loudly at his absence despite the position he'd had her in moments ago.

"Poor omega," he croons mockingly, "such a shame that you can't even move any longer. Did I suck that much blood out of you?" He cocks his head as he watches her struggle. "Do you want me to feed you some of mine, whore? Is that what you want?"

She tries to crawl toward him, but her damned wrists keep rubbing against the carpet, the rug burning her tender flesh with each movement she makes.

From his place in his chair, he coos chidingly, "Nothing to say still, whore? That's too bad. I might have been willing to do something to aid you, but if you can't show me simple respect when I am talking to you, why would I?"

[painpleasurepoetry]

Wisdom Is A Process

I will tell you something Devin Brooke Horn , if I can look at you and see me in you, it is The uncanny ability to speak your mind and be the voice of reason or the one who sounds the alarm. This country is in shambles and no one wants to admit that. We have a pompous arrogant ass in office, with a lot of pompous ass followers. One day these people are going to wake up and realize that we committed genocide against the American Native Indians we stole their lands. We brought Slavery with us. Donald Trump spreading hate all over the world. And causing division.Donald Trump he's not American, we are only American because we were born here. But when the Milky White man in office speaks of the people that don't belong, he doesn't say my wife is Ukrainian, He never fought for his country,only stole from it, and created riots against the very people charged with protecting our country. Donald Trump and every racist bigoted white man should be stripped of the freedoms offered by our great country.and sent to countries that have little to no laws, where they are overrun by gangs drug lords rapist and murders.Where they take teenage children put them in their armies to fight against their own people. And watch them as they try to escape, with nowhere to go nowhere to crawl, no one to help them, no one to hear their cries and when we find them in a Sandy grave like we do many other people in the desert trying to get to the beautiful land of freedom. the greatest nation on this planet. Then and only then will people stop and take time to realize this country was stolen it was built on murder and if we're going to cover that up we must cover it up with something better than what we caused when we took it. The Constitution says every man was equal for anyone who knows the underlying meaning of our Constitution that is not what it meant where forefathers wrote those words only the white man was equal to own their lands and posess those lands. If anyone in this country supports this type of hate, then most likely they are only a generic version of a man, who teaches and preaches falsities to their children. And normalizes it with fake smiles and fraudulent entitlements to this land, that only has become our by the blood our ancestors spilled. And if Donald Trump can be the president of the beautiful United States.Then I think it's time we take those educated white men that's been in Washington too long and rid the halls of Congress and put people in there that know and understand what the true principles of our Constitution mean. And how sad it is, that real true power of the world, who has changed roles of the dynamic in every culture around the world. Who has become the true backbone of the modern family,who has taken over the responsibility of paying the bills, raising the children, teaching values, morals, and in many cases replacing the man entirely as the head of the family. Women have become the most level headed leaders all over the world. It's time these strong resilient role models of the free world unite in change and take their positions they rightly deserve and have earned and bring this country, this world, and every third world nation to a level of existence that is inclusive to all. And erase the old ways of thinking, and reeducate the new generations that racism,hate,division will not be tolerated and make law that change is inevitable, it is necessary and go back through the many many years and erase the history that will always cause the hate, because if we care about the lives of our children their children ect. then we must admit and come fruition that these histories are against the very things we need to strive for.

Timothy Horn 1-30-2025

#painpleasurepoetry

#processedwisdom

[hoonven]

MIDNIGHT KISSES

808 ⸺ in which riki seeks solace in your lips in the dead of night

PAIRING! riki nishimura x female reader

GENRES! fluff, best friends to lovers, bad boy x good girl, high school au

PLAYLIST! white ferrari by frank ocean

WARNINGS! mention of fight, blood and bruises, minor profanity

“Let me guess, I should ‘see the other guy’?” you quip in a low voice, disappointment laced in your tone as you gently dab at the cut above your best friend's eyebrow with a gauze pad soaked in saline solution.

Riki lets out a quiet laugh, “Yeah, something like that. Just know I kicked his ass.”

You don't laugh with him, you didn't like it when Riki talked like that, despite what people said about him he wasn't some reckless delinquent who acted out because he wanted to look cool.

Riki had his reasons why he did the things he did, you understood that better than anyone being as close to him as you were, but it didn't mean you would co-sign his behavior either.

You knew you couldn't stop him though, that's just the way he was, always fighting for what’s right even if it got him in trouble in the end, even so, you suppose that's what you loved about him the most, his instinct to protect.

He made you feel safe and you surmise he felt the same with you seeing as how he crawled through your bedroom window on nights he sustained injuries and sought out solace in your delicate touch treating his wounds.

You don't miss the small flash of anger in his eyes and the slight clench of his jaw and fist at the mention of the fight, you pause your movements, “He said something about me didn't he?”

The blue glow in your room from your projector casts a subtle gleam in his deep brown eyes and you swear they look like stars, in that moment if any man were to promise you all the incandescent spheres in the night sky, you would tell him there’s no need because you'd already found them in Riki’s eyes.

He doesn't answer your question, which tells you the other boy did indeed make an inappropriate comment about you, and he’s glad the music playing lowly on his phone fills the silence.

Riki sighs, resting his head against the side of your mattress from his sitting position on the floor as you toss the blood-stained gauze into the mini trashcan and grab a new one, he watches intently while you soak it in saline, and begin to bring it to the bridge of his nose.

His long fingers curl around your wrist in a gentle grasp, stopping you mid-way, his eyes never once leaving your face, with his free hand he tucks your hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing the apple of it, “Let me kiss you.”

His deep voice speaks in a desire-filled whisper and you find yourself leaning into his touch, your lips grazing the inside of his wrist, “Riki,” you say softly, but no other words follow.

His grip becomes slightly tighter as he slides his fingers into your hair, slowly tugging you closer by your nape, “Please.”

You don't know what to say, a part of you finally wants to give in to Riki after spending so many years running away from this, and another part wants to turn away and deny you are in love with the boy.

You were both still in high school and the chances of your love being real were low, resulting in you adopting a habit of undermining not only yours but also Riki’s feelings.

But no matter how many times you pushed him away Riki cared for you still and forever will, always telling you that was his part of the deal.

Each day of the years you had spent with him he was nothing short of kind-hearted toward you and you know that must've made you someone very special in Riki’s books.

“Ok,” you breathe out as you lean in closer until your lips connect in a sweet kiss, the taste of his strawberry chapstick seeping into your mouth while your lips move in sync.

His bruised hand holding your nape tugs your hair lightly to pull you away from his plump lips before letting go of your wrist he still held and your soft strands.

He grabs you by the waist, hauling you over him like you weigh nothing so you're straddling his legs eliciting a gasp from you, your hands falling on his shoulders to balance yourself.

“Riki, I still have to clean-” you speak in a hushed tone slightly out of breath, your heart beating erratically.

“Shut up,” he cuts through your words in a quick whisper, cupping both your cheeks and practically yanking you down into a kiss once more, this time with more fervor.

The heat of your mouth on his warms his cold body from his venture to your house on a frigid December night, and in spite of the throbbing pain in his hands and face Riki wouldn’t change a damn thing.

© 2023 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform.

[islaytonlost]

The Jigsaw Museum Part 4

Malicious intent, panic attacks and naked shirts, oh my!

First Part, Part 3, Part 5

---

Alfendi’s shirt hung off him. The buttons that had once been neatly resting in their buttonholes scattered to the floor beneath him.

Now exposed it was easy to see his flushed skin, the veins in his neck bulging. Lucy had never seen this look on his face watered down versions sure, but she’d never seen this exact look.

“You’re under arrest for assault,” he sneers.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to say anything about that darling,” her free hand comes up to touch his face, Alfendi removes his hand from her collar to pin it back.

Lucy had no choice but to watch, seeing her partner distressed but unable to really do anything other than pretend like she didn’t see. Right, not seeing. She needed to be seen not seeing what was happening.

While most of the things Alfendi did could be seen as aggressive assaulting a suspect, even one that’d just attacked you, was a step too far.

Maybe she should look but she couldn’t do anything. There was no reason to arrest her, not yet anyway. Lady Addems probably had really good lawyers and if they couldn’t get her before she got them Lucy could find herself testifying against Alfendi.

She remembered Hilda talking about that. How she’d had to write up her series of events, with Justin. How she had to include every incriminating detail she’d seen.

Hilda had told her about the possibility she could get her comatose boyfriend in trouble was too much to bear. That even then she’d just worried. Before he admitted to murder.

“We can’t get out!” someone yells, panicked, “you two, we can’t get out!”

People were frantically trying to open the door; some were trying to get Lady Addems’ attention/ Lucy heads for the door ready to pick the lock herself.

“OPEN THE DOOR OR I SWEAR I WILL MAKE YOU REGRET EVERYTHING,” Alfendi yells, Lucy couldn’t help but look. He had pinned both her arms to her side, cuts littered Al’s scar, red weeping out from beneath the skin.

She’d scratched him, she’d scratched him in the place it hurt to hurt him. Lucy hadn’t looked.

Coward.

She was a coward, she’d not bothered to protect him enough.

“I didn’t know the door was locked,” she smiles, coy, faux innocent, it made Lucy’s skin crawl.

There was a silence, a pause, “liar,” Al towers over her. Lady Addems smiles, he knew it, she knew it but they’d never prove it.

“Let us out, please.” A man in a light blue shirt asks, “Your exhibits, they’re horrifying, I… he…” he chokes tears rolling down his face.

A woman comes up next to him, “His sister was killed by Keelan, you didn’t even mention her name. The way she was killed wasn’t masterful it was brutal, you can’t glorify that! You can’t be happy about this!”

“I’m so sorry you feel this way,” the Lady’s voice was so innocent, so light, “look, all of you who don’t want to come any further you don’t have to, I’ll be sure to take any criticism. I have a booth where you can submit any complaint, completely anonymously.”

She was a monster, murmurs ripple throughout the group, “You’re a monster, you did this on purpose! You scratched him!”

“Alfendi has me pinned to a wall, am I not allowed to fight back? He’s violent and unstable.”

Alfendi growls, only underlining her point. It seemed to be taking all of his energy not to strike back.

“I put this together so as to ensure it never happens again. So, people would know what to look for, so officers like Alfendi won't miss anything again. Especially the true mastermind.”

“He brainwashed me! He had me in a coma and rewrote everything.”

“Yes, Potty.”

Oh, Lucy had come up with that, she’d come up with it and made it so much easier for the Prof’s two identities to be used against him. He’d never asked to be shot.

It was too much for her. Stupid as it sounded Lucy couldn’t take Alfendi’s past being used against him. Everything she’d borne witness to.

If Afendi had died she’s never have become a real cop, without him she’d be missing so much, and sure, she could retake the tests, and grow on her own but it wouldn’t have been the same. She couldn’t imagine doing this any differently.

Alfendi seemed to finally catch on that pinning Lady Addems to the wall wasn’t helping anyone, he released her, “Let us go.”

“I can’t, there’s an exit at the end of the tour, and we can come back for anyone left behind.”

She was such a liar but there was nothing they could do. They were trapped.

The tour continues, her walking through Lucy’s case in Forbodium now. Lucy offers Al her jacket and he laughs, horse and empty.

“I don’t think that would fit,” he zips his jacket up and over the wound, “there, it’s fine.”

“It ain’t though is it Prof, she’s got us right where she wants us and she ain’t going to let us go until we’ve seen it all. Have you got a plan?”

“Cut her tongue out and make her eat the knife.”

“Prof…”

“Come on Lucy it’d be so-“

“No Prof, this is serious. You keep acting out like this and she’ll sue you and she’ll win. She’s barmy enough too and she’s clearly got influence and wealth. Even if you followed through with your plan it’ll still be different! If you can't work at the mystery room-“

“Oh Lucy,” he interrupts, “stop your whining, she has nothing on me, all we have to do is prove she locked us in and she’ll be the one who’s got, besides, she assaulted me!”

“You ain’t taking this seriously!”

“I’m serious enough!”

“I want to talk to Fendi!”

“No! This was my case, Fendi stole it from me! I’m taking this back.”

“You’re being unreasonable, maybe he’s got a real plan!”

Silence for a moment, “He does not.”

“Please Al, I can't deal with you right now!”

Silence, everyone who’d followed Lady Addems stood there, dead silent. They knew what they’d witnessed was bad but didn’t fully understand why.

“I... I don’t mean it like that Prof, I just. This place ain’t good for either of us, come on…” he stares at her, and the words die in Lucy’s throat.

“I know exactly what you meant.”

And he didn’t.

Lucy knew Al had insecurities within their friendship, his bond with her wasn’t completely separate from Fendi’s but he always seemed to worry she just dealt with him because she wanted to be with Fendi.

It wasn’t true, she’d been so nice, worked so hard, they’d gotten to a good place and now she’d said that. She was a horrible person.

They were led into a room that that room, it looked exactly like the one Diane had made her solve that case in.

Alfendi was at the other side of the room, mad at her and her stupid mouth she couldn’t seem to keep it shut. She hated herself in that moment, so much.

“This is the room an officer who solved the murders had to solve a recreated killing. Mr Pig, an Interpol officer murdered to imitate the murder of a rich millionaire.”

The very same mask covered the face of someone. No not someone. Probably just a mannequin. Staring soullessly into space.

From there things went blurry.

Everyone seemed to fade away, this wasn’t real, this was another nightmare, it was just another nightmare. She couldn’t breathe, air didn’t seem to want to get into her lungs. She couldn’t… she couldn’t, she couldn’t, she couldn’t

Diane’s voice floats into the room, floats through the room. Alfendi… she needed to save Alfendi. He was tied up somewhere Diane would kill him.

“…thankfully she recorded her voice, to recreate…” someone else’s voice floats in, through the mist.

She’d saved Alfendi, he was safe, he was safe… Diane’s orders, take over that phrase, filling her mind. She could have died. He would have died. Finally, those words.

“Don’t trust Alfendi Layton.”

No. He could be trusted, he was the only person in the building she trusted.

A hand falls on her shoulder, Lucy flinches, trying to escape. The person moves close to her, “Lucy.”

“No. No. No. No. No. No.” she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t stop whispering.

“Lucy,” a familiar voice whispers to her.

She couldn't trust it, she couldn’t trust anyone, that’s what Diane had said, “Alfendi didn’t do it.”

“I know.”

“He doesn’t trust me…” she whispers.

“I’m going to hug you now; you’ve made rather a spectacle of yourself, and I don’t think you want them to see your face.”

Arms wrap around her. For a second she doesn’t move, before pushing against them, pushing away, she needed to be free, she needed help… to help? Help.

“He doesn’t trust me,” she repeats, “he didn’t trust me, but I knew. I trust him.”

“I know you do.” The arms retract, hovering there in the air, near her but not touching.

“He’d never, I jus’ knew.” She repeats.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise this’d hurt you.” His voice sounded so sad, so familiar, and yet her brain didn’t want to place it.

“I… the people, they killed so many people.”

“I’m used to this, reminders, they’re everywhere but you… You’re not used to this. You saved me.”

Lucy couldn’t form the words; she placed the voice now, “Prof?” she chokes out, a hiccupping sob.

“Yes Lucy,” he reaches out again, but she still wasn’t ready, she trusted him completely but couldn’t seem to apply that to right now.

“Will you stop gawking like fools? You chose to come to this place, look around or I will personally ensure that your life is hell!”

The loud noise made things worse, she covers her ears just as something begins to play on the speakers again, there was no escape, there would be no escape…

---888---

Al had absolutely no clue how to help Lucy and it was so frustrating because he’d been through everything, he could see her experiencing.

Even his dreams had set him off but all he’d wanted was someone to hold him, tell him it’d be okay, but she rejected that. She wouldn’t let him touch her and she couldn’t seem to understand him.

Fortunately, he was scary enough to get everyone to stop staring and he covered most of Lucy’s frame from the cameras. If he could, he would have taken her out of the room, but he didn’t trust Lady Addems for a second.

That and he knew he’d failed everyone in that room, he couldn’t leave them alone with her.

Then Diane’s voice started up again, he whips around, anger cutting through him, “Turn that off right now!”

“I can’t. Not unless you do something for me,” she was advancing again. Oh, he was so done with her. She’d be behind bars by the end of the night.

He moves quickly across the room, standing on the desk and tearing the speaker off the wall, going round the room and using the furniture to rip things off the wall until, at last, silence. No more cameras, no more speakers.

He could hear Lucy’s haggard breaths. He should have seen this coming. She’d been hurt too and yet he’d thought he’d been alone in his feelings.

It was a sick kind of torture, Lady Addems grinning at him, doing it on purpose. Wringing their reactions out of them. Out of Lucy.

He couldn’t stop her.

This isn’t about her.

Good advice, “Lucy, it’s me, Al, you’re safe.” She just keeps crying but he repeats the words he wished people whispered to him, “You’re safe. You’ve done well. You’re safe.” She then does reach out to him.

Relief floods through him as she wraps her arms around him. Then grabbing his worst, feeling his pulse, “You ain’t hurt are you Prof?” her voice was shaky but there, in the room with him. Finally.

“I’m not.”

“I'm sorry I-“

“It’s fine,” he didn’t want her mentioning the whole, two identities in one body thing in front of all these strangers, now was not the time. He’d forgive her. For now, and they’d talk later, maybe. If he had time between ensuring Lady Addems stayed in jail and ensuring this never happened again.

---888---

Florence knew something was wrong when she saw a couple being dragged out a side door. She follows, fortunately not having to be quiet as the angry yells of the couple covered the sound of her IV.

Hospitals really should make these things more discreet, or maybe she should have listened to her doctor and stayed in the hospital longer…

It didn’t matter, no matter where she was, she was sick and at least out here she could see what was taking place.

“I’m friends with the mayor, I’ll have this place shut down!” a man seemed to be informing the guard, who ignored her, turning to head inside, Florence ducks behind the door, and he walked straight past her.

“I can’t believe that they’d just... just… not even mention the dead! It’s like she’s just trying to get a reaction out of us!” The couple begins to walk away.

Florence watches them. Yes. This was exactly what they did, news reports, and crime museums. Usually, they at least pretended like they cared though. She had a hunch it was worse than that though. If two people had already been thrown out for their reaction god knew how Alfendi was reacting.