#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). ��𝐨𝐫𝐝 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.

[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

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[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

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.

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

#𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄, 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄.

🎀 asked ↺ HPLY SHIT FLAMEBRINGER HAS ME DOWN BAD. HIS VOICE. THE EDGE MIXED WITH A LOVE FOR FLOWERS... NEW SARKAZ BOY ACQUIRED /VPOS. i feel like he's either the sweetest lover or wants to take you from behind and fuck you into oblivion. there is no in-between.

cw. sub!reader, mean!flamebringer, rough sex, cumming inside (use condoms irl!!), big cock, overstimulation, dacryphilia, possessive behaviors, size kink, strength kink, hickies, blood kink, mating press, full nelson, doggy style & sex marathons. MINORS DNI!!

art credit. (please go check 'em out, art is super good!! they do have nsfw art so minors beware!!)

he's the type of boyfriend who would use you as his personal armrest, but if someone else tries it, he swings at them then acts like he didn't just try to start a fight. honestly the man is so unpredictable but i'm pretty sure he'd be less of a menace to you at the very least, letting you fall asleep on his admittedly comfy chest without voicing a complaint once. and good luck trying to pry him off of you when he's fallen asleep on you, bc that man has an absolute death grip and he's not gonna let go anytime soon.

flamebringer can and will fuck you into oblivion, his calloused hands tightly gripping your waist as he slams himself against your backside over and over. his cock spreads you open far wider than what could be considered normal, reaching so deep that you swear you can feel him in your stomach. each brutish thrust pricks at nerves that have you sobbing and babbling stupidly, erasing any figments of thoughts or cares. there's nothing to ground you, nothing to think of but the way flamebringer fucks you into the mattress until he finally cums, painting your insides white with thick creamy globs. but just once isn't enough to satisfy him — the sarkaz needs the entirety of rhodes island to know who's fucking you this good. he won't stop until his stamina has run out and he's emptied his heavy balls into you, even if you're beyond exhausted by that point.

the hickies and deep bites he leaves behind are the type that stand out like a sore thumb and take weeks to heal up entirely. all the makeup in the world can't hide the indents of his teeth against your collarbone, or the love bites decorating the sides of your neck. and that doesn't even begin to account for the mess he made on the rest of your body. his bites tear deep enough to draw blood, the pain triggering fat tears to stain your cheeks, and he watches with a primal sort of hunger when he watches you sob like that. it's gotten to the point where you've begun to become terribly aroused by the searing pain, your mind so fogged that you can only focus on the painful pleasure that flamebringer delivers. and all of it is done with a purpose, since he's got such a nasty possessive streak on him, smug arrogance filling his chest when he watches you make a feeble, and admittedly pathetically adorable, attempt at walking after he'd just finished blowing out your backside.

flamebringer's strength is the source of his fiery pride, especially since he can use it to his advantage when he wants to fuck you senseless. he can, without a doubt, fuck you in full nelson, arms hooked under your plush thighs, his self-control cracking with each warbled moan escaping your lips. mating press has to be his absolute favorite, however, since he can watch each cute expression you make and be able to crush you beneath him, snuffing out any hopes you have of attempting to crawl away from him. the position allows him to reach even deeper, his fat cock brushing against sensitive nerves that leave you jolting and desperately clinging onto him. he just finds it so cute that you're chanting his name — stupidly babbling it like it's the only thing you can even remember. and of course, each time he cums, each load will stay safely nestled deep inside your oversensitive hole. at least, until he pulls out, your gaping walls unable to keep his seed from dripping out.

keep being this cute and pliant for him and he really may never want to ever let you go. it's only a matter of time before he can truly claim you as his♡

[meadow-anderson]

Exhaustion

a joel miller drabble

y’all im sorry i really tried to turn this into a full fic but writers block beat my ass.

The mattress heaved with his dull weight as he creaked his way into bed, sat stone still beside you still dressed in his dust warped clothes from his ration card job earlier today. Joel was always tired and you could see it everywhere, in his hunched posture, smell it in the stench of scotch on his breath, hear it in his “hey baby” when he walked through the door. Your favorite way though was always to taste it, when his lips slid against yours and he’d let out that heavy sigh, that sigh that told you that burying himself inside you was the only way he would sleep tonight and it’d leave a tang of relief on your tongue. So when you hear that thud of his body colliding with the torn fabric that's exactly what you expect. You’re fully prepared to quiet the exhaustion and like a soldier taking solace in repetition you wait in your position, laid back with your knees slid up begging for Joel to take his place between them.

But you keep waiting and staring and waiting and staring.

Had he actually fallen asleep? Maybe there was no longer a need for your warm touch or his substance of choice to abuse. You begin to tap at your legs, the staring contest with the off white paint on the ceiling becoming tedious.

Maybe he thought you were asleep?

You let a slight grumble, a short reminder of your ever growing impatience.

“Tommy told me about that shit you pulled”

Your tapping stops, in fact you’re sure everything stops, the whole world stops spinning on its axis as you listen to Joel's scolding words reverberate through the midnight air.

‘Fuck you tommy’ is the first thing you think replaced quickly by a fervent panic as you wonder how you’re gonna squeeze out of this one. Play the traumatised victim? Pick a fight and hope he’s too exhausted to follow through? He mutters again, not so eagerly waiting for you to make your selection of fight or flight.

“I’d sure like to know what the fuck you were thinking?” You can hear the frustration riddled in his voice, watch his face screw up as it suffocates every word he speaks, anger tightly wrapped around syllables like tangled vines. And to top it off you just sit there mouse-like and silent when Joel asked you a question. A genuine question. Because he could not for the life of him understand why you thought it’d be ok to talk to those guys for him, to work out a deal and try and take something off his plate because it was his goddamn plate. His mess, not yours and Jesus you could've at least been smart about it. He seethed as he imagined you talking to those guards. Vulnerable, unarmed, hands annoyingly twisting with the fabric of your shirt like they do when you're trying to negotiate extra time in bed with him or a kiss goodbye.

He begins to feel you shuffling around behind him, quietly crawling across the sheets, an air of mischief in the way you move.

You couldn't bring yourself to tell him how sorry you were but you sure as hell could show him.

You take your spot beside him, head resting on the faded plaid of his shirt. Slowly you start to lower yourself, big wide eyes looking up at him whilst you slide onto your knees.

Joel doesn't say anything. He finds himself forgetting all of the things he so desperately wanted to say as he lifts up one of those big callous hands of his and runs it gently across your face. His features softening as he stares into you.

Part of you, A very cocky part of you wants to push it. Wants to tell him how far into the city you wandered, wants to tell him the agitated tone you took with the guard, Wants to lay it on so thick you’re almost salivating staring down at his thick leather belt, a promising opportunity looped in his jeans.

But as you lean into his palm you notice his tired eyes and they're pleading at you in a way Joel never could. So you decide against it.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @vampireninjabunnies-blog and @simplegenius042 ❤️

John's POV, folks. Time for him to be going through things again. And remember Calahan's little love notes for him? Yeah, those finally make an appearance.

At one of the breaks inbetween Confessions, Wyatt finally delivered  the notes Calahan had been leaving for John. The man placed the neat stack on his desk and gave him another wary look as he muttered, "I still would advise you to not read them, brother." Wyatt resumed his position next to the door, his posture becoming tense when John said nothing and picked up the notes, wearing another neutral expression. Inwardly he prepared himself for the worst while his eyes scanned over the first colorful piece of paper that lay on top. "You can go, Wyatt. I wouldn't be needing your assistance.", he briefly shifted his gaze over to the man just in time to notice him sneaking a worried look his way. "Uh…", he stammered in response, seeming torn at the idea of being dismissed so suddenly. "Do I need to repeat myself?" "No. No.", Wyatt retorted quickly and left the office in a haste. The second the door shut behind him, John's attention returned to the notes, inevitable bewilderment swooping in as flicked through them. "My brother considers this manchild WORTHY. Believes if he joins us, the Project would be stronger. And Sabrina… has feelings for him? Him?", the words slipped out before he could stop them. His anger was mixed with amusement at how utterly ridiculous the Sinner's insults were. He had no doubt Hartley believed he was being witty and would manage to get under John's skin just like he always tried to make him lose his temper anytime he would call him.

I guess your face proves that even GOD makes mistakes sometimes. With love, Cal

John scoffed at the pathetic jab, "Envy. Is that your sin?"

No matter how many billboards you put around in declaration of your love, the only way you'll ever get laid is if you crawl up a chicken's ass and wait. It's Hartley, bitch

His fingers rubbed at his forehead in attempts to ease the headache that was slowly forming, "Yeah, Deputy. You see my issue… is different."

Roses are red, violets are blue, God made me pretty, what the hell happened to YOU? Do I even need to sign this one, fucker?

"Kindergarten. It's where you belong.", John uttered out before he took another sip of coffee.

Your whiny voice must have been getting on everyone's nerves in court so much, that the only job you could land as a lawyer ended up being with your brother's shitty cult. YES, it's me again, your biggest nightmare. ;)

"You're nowhere close to even resembling a nightmare of mine, Deputy. Me, on other hand… I can become yours, if you keep fighting against God's plan for you."

Have you not noticed your little sign leading to your home almost looks like it's spelling "SEX" from certain angles? Didn't think of the letter placement too much, did ya, Johnny? I can get rid of them for you, free of charge. - Hartley & Co, "We set fires anywhere we go."

John placed his cup back on the desk with more force than necessary, "It absolutely does not spell that." The Sinner's threats of destruction and pyromaniac tendencies didn't surprise him one bit, especially after Hartley's most recent drunken transgression a couple of months prior where he had tried to spell "No" on his lawn by setting it ablaze. Back then John could have used the offence to push Whitehorse to fire the hotheaded deputy, if it hadn't been for Joseph insisting he overlook the issue, he would have done just that. Gotten rid of Hartley once and for all, and enjoyed every bit of it as he watched the Sinner face the same laws he loved to enforce on his men.

John shook off the bitter memory of the missed opportunity at making the Deputy someone else's problem, biting back a dark smirk as he picked up the radio receiver, "Deputy. Deputy. Deputy. Leaving notes for me, I see? You know, all these childish threats only prove one thing…", John paused, "how untamed the sin is within you. But don't worry, soon, you will be free of it. All you have to do is say YES." Seconds ticked by without any response from Hartley, which wasn't really unusual if Hudson wasn't brought up into the conversation. When no curses or threads came through, John placed the receiver down and finished his coffee while telling himself he wasn't bothered by what he had read. That Wyatt was completely wrong to worry about his reaction. This is a waste of time. Nothing else. Idiotic, frivolous claims. He threw the notes into the trashcan and left his office, headed back to the Reconciliation room, where another Sinner was waiting for a Confession. As he strode past his men and eventually came face to face with Wyatt, who was standing guard out front, he promised himself he wasn't going to let Hartley's childish insults derail his work. Yet irritation lurked in his mind. At the fact Joseph almost idolized the Sinner. That Sabrina valued him more than her own safety and freedom. That he hadn't even bothered to respond to his radio call.

An hour into the confession, John's head was already pounding from barely getting any sleep in the recent days combined with all the screaming he was currently being subjected to. All the signs of a lingering headache were by then present, and he had just another hindrance to add to his list of things that were testing his endurance and ability to remain calm. The man in his chair was finally beginning to open up, his voice so hoarse, he had no choice but to whisper out his sins. "I-I, I looked at her once. Patty. I know I shouldn't have.", Daniel Wallace said meekly. John raised an eyebrow at the poor excuse, sensing his lie from a mile away, "Now, you sure all you did was look, Daniel?", "Fine. Once. It happened once." "Just once?" Wallace groaned in pain as John pursed his lips and tapped his injured leg, compelling him to grit out, "No." "Well, I'm listening. Details, Daniel. Determining your sin requires details. And, it would be in your best interest to reconsider lying to me." A familiar look of hatred fell over the man's face, "Joseph makes ya listen to our sex stories now? You that desperate? That your only way of gettin' some?" It wasn't Wallace's voice that John heard at that moment or who he imagined was sitting in his chair. No. The frail tone was out of a sudden sounding arrogant, stronger, resembling Hartley's. Instead of Daniel's dark brown eyes, a set of baby blues were staring back at him full of pride and untamable fire. Pretending Calahan Hartley was in his place was easy enough, only further enabled by Daniel's fair hair and the way his head was hanging down and concealing his face.

Before he could stop himself, his hand drove the knife back into his leg, making him release another scream that only worsened the wretched headache further. "Details. I won't repeat myself again." And sure, I don't have better things to do than listen to your pathetic love life, Daniel. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.", sweat formed on his forehead as John pulled out the knife and a fresh stream of blood oozed out, "We met behind her shop. I drove to the motel-" It was that exact moment Wyatt chose to open the door, ending the man's shaky string of words and halting the agonizing progress he had finally made. My patience is being tested a lot today. John couldn't tolerate any obstructions, not when the Sinner was close to passing out, his pain tolerance shockingly low for someone of his size and muscle. He turned sharply, rotating the knife in his hands while trying to hold onto his remaining self-control, "No interrupting Confessions, Wyatt." "I-I know the rules, brother. But uh-", the worried look in his eyes gave John a pause. "Get to the point, Wyatt." "The Father is in your office. He wants to see you… now." On the inside, John felt fear creeping in, it was crystal clear why his brother was there, that he had come for answers he had been trying to get with each ignored phone call. John didn't let any of it show on his face when he turned to the Sinner, offering him a carefully crafted smile as he said, "Well, look at that, it's your lucky day. We have to reschedule." He spun around, not bothering to spare another glance at the man that was now quietly sobbing as he stormed to the door. "Take him back to his cell.", he instructed Wyatt when he passed by him.

On the way back to his office, John felt like a little kid being summoned by the principal for misbehaving. His mind was running in circles, going over the possible outcomes, and the realization that one wrong move could cost him greatly. He knew all it would take was one badly chosen word, and he could lose Sabrina. The first thing to greet him as he came into the room was Joseph sitting in none other but his chair. It was one of the rare occasions where his brother had bothered to put on a shirt, even paired it with a black vest over it. "Hello, brother.", Joseph said in his usual calm tone, giving John a subtle smile as he pointed to one of the seats across from him, "Sit down." He couldn't help but wonder if this is exactly what Wyatt was experiencing that same morning and any other time he would mimic Joseph's current demeanor when discipling his men. Is this how you felt, too, Deputy? Like I was about to decide your fate for you? Like you were teetering on the edge, unsure if things would end badly? "How are you, Joseph?", he asked, keeping his voice just as even and refusing to allow his composure to slip even for a second. Too much relied on him keeping his act together. As he sat down Joseph's perceptive gaze zeroed in on him through his yellow-tinted sunglasses.

"Thanks to God's will, I'm good, brother. Question is why are you always unavailable for my calls?" "I'm not. I've been waiting for your call all day today, actually." "I was going to call, but then decided to come in person. You know I would rather do things face to face anyway.", his brother's eyes shifted behind John for a second, before focusing on to his face again. He nodded, waiting for the questions Joseph was undeniably going to ask next, he was preparing himself for them and the idea he would have to lie. For the composed yet firm way the Father try to get out a confession out of him. "What did you learn about the girl?" A lot, but not enough. Not nearly enough for you to take her away from me so soon. "There's nothing of concern there, brother." Joseph's gaze narrowed as he searched his face, "Are you certain, John?" "There's nothing to be worried about, Joseph." He sounded like Sabrina when she refused to admit she wasn't okay and John could only hope he was doing a better job at convincing his inquirer about being truthful. And in a way he was telling the truth, he was indeed ensuring Sabrina's visions were no danger to the Project. "How certain are you, brother?", Joseph got up from the chair, coming to stand next to John as he leaned against the desk, keeping his gaze trained forward towards the back of the room. "I'd go as far as to say she's worthy of Atonement. Just like all the others."

His blue eyes hardened and John fought the urge to spin around and find out what had captured his brother's attention, "If she's proving to be difficult, you can always hand her over to Jacob-" You might as well ask me to admit failure, brother. You expect me to hand Sabrina to Jacob, knowing what happens within the walls of St. Francis? No. You see, I'm kind of attached to her free will. "I have everything under control here, Joseph. Always have. The Deputy is my task, not Jacob's." "Do you?", his brother reached a hand out, taking hold of John's shoulder as he loomed over, "There's something you're not telling me." "There's nothing to tell, brother." Now I really do sound like Sabrina. His brother nodded, "Alright, John. There comes the time when all kept secrets become too much to bear and the only way for you to not be torn apart by them, is to open up, you know that. It's when you would come to me, like you've always done." John bit his tongue, deep down knowing he would most likely crawl back to him in hope he'd find a way to silence his urges, but also that he couldn't allow it to happen like it had before. Not with what that would mean for Sabrina and Savannah.

Just when the weight of the silence began to feel like too much to bear, Joseph spoke up again, "And what about the Deputy?" "He's been evading my people, but nothing of actual concern, it's only a matter of time before he's captured, Joseph." "Good. It's God's Will that he reaches Atonement. You cannot fail, John." "I won't, brother, you know I won't." Joseph nodded, patting John on the shoulder and heading for the door. Suddenly, he turned, concern swooping into John's system at the look on his face, "The girl… I would like to be present when the time for her Cleansing comes." She'd never agree to a Cleansing. Let alone one you'd be overlooking. "Of course, Joseph." "I need you to be vigilant, brother. I fear something is coming. That you, Jacob… that you're in danger." "What kind of danger? Did God warn you about something?", the words left him before he could think better of it. "No. It's my own feeling. Strong enough that I've sent Mercy to keep an eye on Jacob. Do I need to do the same for you, John?" Mercy was the latest woman his brother had taken keen interest in. He insisted she was someone he considered worthy of being a new Faith, that it was the reason he was keeping her around even now that the Reaping had started and despite the fact their sister was excelling as a Herald in the Henbane. Joseph had indirectly accused him of keeping secrets, yet John couldn't help but think his brother was harboring some of his own. He hadn't missed the way the Father would sometimes look at Mercedes Sibley. Couldn't forget how a few months after her acceptance into the Project he had shown up at the ranch's doorstep in the middle of the night, face twisted in desperation with a look in his eyes that told John something must have gone terribly wrong. The second he had entered his home, Joseph had made him tattoo 'lust' on his abdomen and even to this day still refused to elaborate on the sin's origin.

John shook off the concerns that had appeared at the mention of Mercedes, focing a smile his brother's way, "Absolutely not. I'm shocked Jacob has even agreed for Mercy to stay in the Whitetails." Where the Father had basically made her a part of their family, Jacob tended to turn completely hostile anytime she would even attempt to speak to him. Eventually they had all learned to accept his soaring mood and continuous snarling as something that would never change, that he simply refused to deal with someone as joyous as Mercedes. Joseph pursed his lips, "He knows I only want what's best for all of you. That if I've send Mercy there, it's where she needs to be. Where God wants her to be." "Yes, Joseph.", was all John could muster while on the inside he questioned if it was God or Joseph who had decided to keep Mercedes away from the Compound out of a sudden. "I will leave you to it then. Remember what I said, John." "Of course. Goodbye, brother." Just as the door closed behind him, Mathias' voice came through from the radio on his desk and pierced the tense silence. "Boss. We have a problem. Over." It wasn't lost on him that had it been one minute sooner, Joseph would have heard the call. John felt as if God was helping him at that moment after all, maybe was even on his side despite the wretched urges that plagued him when it came to Sabrina. Perhaps they were in fact a test, but he imagined the Father would insist that wasn't the case, that the only way to keep them at bay would be through granting other people release from their sins and letting Jacob take over his task.

Still, he also feared his brother's presence could have been a distraction: that he was testing him, that maybe he knew about Sabrina's relocation and had sent men for her while he was away from the ranch. Every part of him hoped that wasn't the reason for the troublesome call. John sat down in his own chair, picking up the receiver and feeling uneasy of the news Bennett could deliver, "I'm listening, Mathias." "The Sinner's gone. She has left the ranch."

Tagging @direwombat @clicheantagonist @josephseedismyfather @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @thesingularityseries @detectivelokis @nightbloodbix @aceghosts @madparadoxum @chazz-anova @theelderhazelnut @purplehairsecretlair @dumbassdep @shegetsburned @poisonedtruth @cassietrn @voidika @harmonyowl @v0idbuggy @strangefable @schoute @jacobsneed @strafethesesinners @g0dspeeed @trench-rot @nightwingshero @josephslittledeputy @euryalex @florbelles @neonneurons and anyone with something to share ❤️

[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.

[bewitched-forest]

The Rebirth of Tim Drake - Ch 1

Tim gets turned into a halfa after an incident with a newly spawned Lazarus Pit, electricity, and Ra's Al Ghul. When he awakens, he finds himself in the Ghost Zone. Taken to fellow Halfa, Danny Fenton, he travels to Amity Park where he learns with the help of Danny and his friends just what he has become. And how being a Halfa has made him one of the most hunted beings in the world.

[Ao3 Link Here]

} ~ – ~ {

Red Robin panted back and knees aching as he crawled through the ventilation. It was big enough for him, thankfully, but he’d been crawling for five minutes now.

Tim thought back to what had gotten him into this position. Batman had received word a week back that a new Lazarus Pit had formed on the surface, and that Ra’s Al Ghul was already attempting to take control to convert it for his uses. They had gathered their intel, figured out the location, before planning an infiltration.

Which led to now. Red looked through a grate, smiling as he finally noticed a surveillance room. Carefully, he pries open the grate, setting it gently off to the side. Peeking his head out, he takes a look around the room. Lucky him, only one security guard was inside.

Carefully, Red slided out feet first first, landing softly on the ground. He snuck up behind the security man at his desk, pulling out a tranquilizer and injecting it into the man’s neck. He backed up, watching the man stumble to his feet before flopping onto the floor like a potato sack. Red Robin wasted no time, dashing forward and turning off the security measures, including the cameras.

He reached up, turning on his comm. “Mission accomplished. Security is offline.” Tim doesn’t wait for the reply as he lifts the man, depositing him in his chair and facing him back toward the computers. He jumped for the vent, pulling himself inside and replacing the vent grate.

He continued crawling along the vent, listening to the messages traversing through the comms.

“Robin, what’s your status on locating Ra’s?” asked Batman.

Even now, Red can’t help but prickle at the name. He wonders if Jason or Dick ever did too, since the name was once theirs.

“Negative. I still haven’t located Grandfather,” replied Damian.

“Everyone keep looking. We find Ra’s, we find the pit so we can close it.”

Gun shots sound, causing Tim to snort. Seems Jason must’ve gotten himself into something.

“Hood! Report!” says Batman.

“I’m fine! Don’t need to get your cape in a twist! No Ra’s here!” replied Hood hurriedly. You could hear the gunshots echo past his voice over the comms.

Tim peered through a vent grate, eyes widening as he saw a green robe. He scoots back out of sight before pressing his comm. “I think I found Ra’s. Sending you my location now.” Tim opens up his wrist computer, typing in his coordinates and sending them to Oracle to distribute.

“Got it. Everyone en route to Red’s location,” says Batman.

Red waited for minutes before hearing the fight break out in the room. He kicks out the grate, dropping into the room and deploying his Bo staff. Immediately he jumps into the fight, taking down people left and right. Tim can hear his family shouting around, though he elects to focus on the fight.

He spots the Lazarus Pit, and after glancing around to see everyone occupied, he vaults over one of the assassins and makes his mad dash for the pit, grabbing the chemical bomb Batman made to close the pit.

“Red Robin!” shouts Nightwing shrilly.

Red whirls around just as Ra’s slices down with his katana. The blade cuts cleanly across Red’s chest, causing him to stumble. Slipping on the edge of the pit, he drops inside, the bomb being thrown from his hand.

Immediately, the wound starts to tingle and Tim’s throat burns from swallowing the lazarus waters. As Tim kicks towards the surface, he can see a light flash above the water. Just as Tim is about to break his hand through, the water turns into fire.

Everything burns! It’s like his very molecules are being torn apart, clawed away by something sharper than the sword that had cut him earlier. It hurts. Tim barely can think to liken it to the tasers before the pain whisks away all thought from his brain.

The world turns numb. Somewhere in the back of his head, Tim knows he’s still in pain. Still being burned and torn alive. But it's as though he is far away from his body. It's almost peaceful.

No. NO. Peace! He’s not supposed to have peace right now! He’s supposed to be fighting. To be making it back to his family. To protect the world from Ra’s Al Ghul and his lazarus pits.

The world snaps back into focus, the pain returning ten fold. Tim struggles against the currents, barely even registering that there shouldn’t be any. He kicks and claws for the surface, desperate to get out, to get back to his family. To get back to his life. But already Tim can see the black crawling across his eyes. And just as Tim feels he’s about to make it, the darkness swallows him whole.

} ~ – ~ {

Tim woke with a groan, rolling onto his side to push himself up. He felt like he had gotten tased with the power of the bat signal. He could feel his body spasming, protesting the act of trying to get up. His head spun violently. Probably would’ve vomited if he had anything in his stomach.

Tim forced his eyes open, looking around at the world. His attention snapped into focus as he realized that he was not in the compound. Beneath his hands, the dirt was an ashy grey. Around him, stood jungle plants in various shades of blue and purple. Looking up led to his eyes widening as he saw a swirling green sky and floating islands.

Tim was pretty sure he wasn’t even on Earth anymore.

“Who are you?” boomed a voice behind him. Tim stumbled to his feet, whirling around. 

His jaw dropped as he saw the metal man floating in the air. The man was massive, even bigger than Jason. He had electric green hair and dark eyes. And, as Tim realized, a bazooka aimed right at him.

Tim decided to deal with the fact the man glowed later. He ran, just straight bolted into the forest behind.

“Ah a hunt! I shall catch you quickly, squirt!” shouted the metal man.

Tim ignored him, opting to run. Though, Tim should’ve figured that the guy having been floating showed that was a stupid move. Within seconds, Tim was getting shot at. He stumbled to a stop as he reached a cliff's edge, looking down proving an endless drop. 

A shot right at his feet, had other plans for him though.

He fell, closing his eyes shut on instinct. When he didn’t feel the wind whipping past him, indicative of dropping to his death, Tim cracked his eyes open.

They blew wide as he realized was floating, his arms waving around wildly. He flipped over himself, as a result and he looked over at the now upside down metal man looking at him. The man lowered his bazooka, clearly as confused as Tim was.

The man didn’t get a chance to say anything because suddenly Tim was getting bodied, a small green glowing ball of fluff barreling right into him. Tim groaned, as he watched the ball unfold into a puppy.

The puppy tilted his head at Tim before looking over his shoulder. Tim barely had time to react before the floating dog jumped, snatching up his cape and dragging him. Tim tried to yank the cape away, before realizing that he was still in mid air. 

His eyes widened as he finally processed another few new details. For one, his cape was white. His gloves too! What?! Tim knew for a fact he was in his Red Robin suit before he passed out. But he had absolutely no white.

An eager, but muffled bark called Tim to look away, eyes widened as he got slammed into a snowbank by the bounding dog. And once more, Tim was swallowed up in black.

[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

[hellsbroadcaster]

                　. ˚　. ╳ ⊹ ― 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?"

[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.