#and now the guard’s baton

[chenouttachen]

starting to get concerned about the amount of blunt force trauma to the head babe is amassing

[teaboot]

OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

[3liza]

we need to start training girls to physically attack and brutalize stalkers and harassers. 99% of the time whatever stalking/sexual harassment situation i was in would have been resolved instantly and conclusively by chasing the stalker around with a baton and injuring him as much as possible instead of trying to handle it the "right" ways. and the times where i did actually freak out and physically confront/shout at/strike them (or made a sincere and credible threat to do so) the stalker just stopped being a problem basically immediately. the myth that's told to girls is that you can, as a victim, be responsible for "escalating" a menacing person or situation into the point of violence by fighting back or attacking, and trying to manage the situation politely and quietly is "safer". i really have not observed this to be the case.

i also really believe from experience at this point that publicly acknowledging being scared of people who are trying to harass you in any capacity is always the worst possible decision you can make. they['re relying on you to act Sane and Reasonable and just sit there and take it, making yourself into an immediate and dangerous problem is the better decision in 99% of cases and i wish there was a public health campaign about it. this human social dynamic entirely depends on the freeze and fawn responses by the victim to empower the attacker. creating severe and material consequences for menacing you will instantly disappear the majority of these guys because they're extremely terrified of anyone standing up to them in any capacity

authorities as a rule never help harassment/stalking victims anyway but causing a huge, embarrassing scene is also one of those only ways to force "security guards" and bystanders to step in, because it suddenly becomes impossible to ignore and now it's everyone's problem

[nelo0wesker]

I miss you

Relationship: Armando Aretas X Reader

@thedarkworldofhananerea

————

Armando's head shots up hearing his cell being banged by one of the prison guards' batons. His thoughts were interrupted by you because of the guard.

“Aretas, you have a visitor” the guard warns him going to the door of the room and leaving. A few seconds later Mike walks into the room and goes up to Armando’s cell. He stops looking at his son. “How are you doing?” Mike questions him while waiting for his answer. “Well paying my debt” Armando replies and then sighs not looking at his father. “It’s a big one”.

“Opportunity may have presented itself for you to pay down some of that debt. You interested?” Mike questions Armando. Armando just stares at his father for a few seconds. All he could think about was if he did this. He’ll get closer to getting out and seeing you. “I’m in” Armando replies, watching his father smile and nod.

——

Armando holds his bleeding arm watching Callie get in front of him to protect him from being near her mother. “Mom? Mom don’t?” Callie says blocking her mother's aim. Judy aims her gun at them. “Get away from her!” She yells moving to the side trying to get a clear shot of Armando. “Mom!-“ “Now!” Judy says. “Mom, listen to me you don’t understand?” Callie says, trying to reason with her mother.

“Callie, I need you to listen to me. I want you to step slowly to your right and walk towards me.” Judy says still aiming as Callie shakes her head no. “Mom! Mom, I’m fine. Okay!” She tries to say. “Callie, I need you to move out of the way!”

“Mom,” Callie says to her. Armando gets up and Judy aims at him. Callie raises her arms trying to prevent Judy from shooting. “Mom! Mom, don't shoot! Don’t shoot! Mom, he saved me! Stop!” She yells out.

Mike runs towards them. “Judy! Judy!” He says going towards her trying to stop her. “Back off, Mike!” She tells him as he tries to get closer. “Judy-“ he tries again but she yells over him. “Put the gun down?” She yells at Mike and he aims his arms up so she doesn’t shoot.

“He saved my life,” Callie says, trying to stop her mother from shooting the male behind her. She slowly goes to her mother with a scared look. “Please Mom” she tries again. Judy stares at her daughter and then aims her gun down. She looks down gulping feeling her eyes water. Her gun was now holstered. Mike immediately goes to Armando while Callie runs to her mother.

“Are you hit? Are you hit?” Mike questions looking him over for any bullet wounds. “I’m good,” Armando tells him as Mike looks up at him. “You good? He asks him as Armando moves his arm up to his father's neck to support himself. “You did good… you did good” Mike tells him and then turns to Judy hearing the radio go off "Howard where are you?" Judy lets go of Callie thinking as the radio goes off again. "Howard, do you copy?" Judy looks at Callie, "Howard' where's your location". Judy looks at Mike as he looks at Callie." Go... Before I change my mind".

Mike turns to Armando "Let's go! Let's go" He says, walking with him and looking at Judy while holding Armando.

They made it to where the boat was.

They stopped and Mike turned to his son

"You good? You good?" He questions the Latino male. Armando nods his head watching his father go into his vest grabbing a notebook.

"You take this," Mike tells him, putting the book in Armando's vest, "Head south don't look back"

Armando nods his head. "I got it". Mile nods his head looking at his son "Be good" He tells him, Armando just stares at his father. "It's not up to you Detective," He tells him and fist bumps his father turns around and gets on the boat starting it. He sits down and turns to his father. Mike pushes the boat out watching his son go.

Armando stirs the boat and leaves, not looking back as his father watches.

—-

She startles awake hearing a crash in her home. She gets out of bed scared, grabbing a knife. She walks out of her room shakily going to her living room. She pauses seeing a figure on her couch. She aims her knife at the figure as she turns on the light.

Y/N's eyes widen seeing Armando all bloody.

She drops the knife and runs to him horrified that he might be dying. "Armando!" She says getting her med kit to fix the wounds on him. He grabs her chin and smiles.

"Te echo de menos, cariño. Eres tan hermosa. Te echo mucho de menos "He says stroking her cheek as he admires her beauty. Y/N patches up his wounds ready to help him up but was pulled into Armando's arms. He hugged her tightly, not letting go anytime soon. “I miss you too Armando,” she says, carefully hugging him back.

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

Telling TR boys "Have you ever thought how easy it would be for us to end the other one?"

"Have you ever thought how easy it would be for us to end the other one and never get caught?"

Mikey:

You were at Mikey's place, watching a funny show in his phone while laying on his chest as he was eating his Doriyaki. Yes it was supposed to be sweet time you two spend together but curiosity got best of you, so you asked "Mikey."

"Hm?" He turned his head to face you.

"Have you ever thought how easy it would be for us to end the other one and never get caught?" That's it, you've done it and asked him.

The question hang in the air as awkward, yet funny, silence followed it. He slightly shifted to see your face better so you looked at him dead in the eye. "...What?" He asked. "End the other one?"

"Yup." You nodded your head, not breaking the eye contact.

"Like kill the other one?"

"Yeah."

He shifted again and sat up on his bed, looking down at you. He was caught off guard, for sure but also confused as to why you would ask that.

You continued. "Like you know how often couples kill each other? I was thinking how easy it is to kill your lover in relationship." He raised his eyebrows slightly but hasn't said anything. "Like I can poison you, for example, poison your Doriyaki and then get rid of every single evidence or frame someone else or make it look like an accide-"

"Woah there James Moriarty, calm down." He said dramatically, putting his Doriyaki away. You tried your best to don't giggle since his reaction was very amusing. "Let's just..." He tried to choose the right words. "Don't think about that."

"I mean, it's just terrifying."

"Yeah it is!" He repeatedly nodded his head, making you let out small laugh. "And so random."

"I was just joking." You hugged him, chuckling here and there.

"Yeah I hope so, because I really want to be able to eat my Doriyaki."

Ran:

"Have you ever thought how easy it would be for us to end the other one and never get caught?"

"What?" He immediately turned to you face you as you were in the middle of braiding his hair.

"I was just thinking how easy it would be for us to kill the other one and don't get caught."

He blinked at you before nodding. "It would be yeah. If I were to beat you to death with my baton and played heartbroken boyfriend's role, I could get away with it."

"That's MY line!" You pouted.

Ran let out heartily chuckle at that. "What was that joke tho?"

You innocently tilted your head to the side. "Who said I was joking?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "Darling...But I wouldn't mind dying by your hands. It would have been a honor."

Rindou:

"Rindou." You called his name but he had his ear buds on. "Rindou!" You said his name louder and he takes his ear buds off.

"Yes, doll?"

"Have you ever thought how easy it would be for us to end the other one and never get caught?" You bluntly asked, looking at him dead in the eye.

Rindou blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then he finally answered you. "No, I don't think about that."

"Oh well, I just had this thought like-" He sat down on the bed, facing you while you explained. "-it genuinely would be easy. If I were to poison you, get rid of the evidence and your corpse and play victim, make others pity me, I probably could get away with it."

Rindou stayed silent for few seconds before shaking his head. "I knew watching crime documentaries wouldn't be good for you."

You giggled. "It's just a thought, nothing else, I swear."

He eyes you up and down. "Not like you could kill me tho."

"Bet."

"Wait no-"

Kakucho:

"Can you repeat what you just said?" Kakucho asked you, stopping his workout, praying he heard something wrong or had auditory hallucinations.

"Have you ever thought how easy it would be for us to end the other one and never get caught?" You repeated your question, now with a smile.

Boy, he was so confused. Why are you asking that? Where is that even coming from? "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Nothing. Just had this thought because there are many people who die in relationships, yeah? So I was thinking like I could basically kill you anytime and get away with it." You said it but immediately regret upon seeing his expression.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked hesitantly. You immediately told him that it was just a joke you saw on Tiktok and he let out a sigh of relief. You did feel guilty for that.

[innominaterifter]

The second part of the story "to get a telescopic baton past security." The previous part was ended at the metal detector went off moment, and then the guard asked me to open my backpack. This first part is here

https://www.tumblr.com/innominaterifter/736872534262349824/i-didnt-manage-to-finish-everything-in-my-costume

I began to put my plan into action.

Step one

I hecticly and hastily began to take off my backpack, showing with all my appearance that I was in a hurry and was afraid of being late for the performance. But at the same time, showing how uncomfortable I was that I had created more work for them.

In the process of all this, I dropped a couple of things, bending over to pick them up, and accidentally stepped on the security guard’s foot. While straightening up, I slightly hit my head on the desk, and yes, they already looked at me with a mixture of mockery and irritation, wanting to get rid of me as quickly as possible.

This was exactly the reaction I needed.

Step two

The metal detector kept going off. I cursed and apologized, muttering that it was probably a metal stand and a fabric mount (step two). One guard is already waving his hand for me to pass, but the second asks me to remove the metal elements from the backpack and go through again (it was the one whose foot I stepped on; perhaps this was unnecessary).

I take them off my backpack and try to go through again, but the detector, of course, continues to react.

The organizers announce the imminent start of cosplay performances into the microphone, and I show on my face the panic of a person lagging behind the train.

The first guard again waves his hand at me, saying, 'Come on in', but the second one detains me this time too. He asks me to show him what is inside the backpack.

I was unlucky to stumble upon a truly vigilant person. Or vengeful. Or maybe I literally stepped on his sore spot.

Well, step three

I unzip the compartment in which there is a tin box with food (and a baton at the very bottom).

And I exclaim as if I had just guessed: 'Ah, this is a box of food for cockroaches! This is what the detector is triggered by!'

I start to pull it out, but both guards exclaim in unison: 'Food for whom?!'

I show on my face the smile of a person who simply adores insects (as you understand, I practically didn't have to pretend):

'For cockroaches! They are in my backpack, and I will show them now!'

I bet that although insects may be interesting to people, it is unlikely that anyone would want unexpected tactile contact with hundreds of cockroaches (as subsequent events at the convention showed, even simple observation makes people nervous).

I turned the backpack towards them with the outer transparent wall, which was initially hidden by things hung on top of the backpack. After I took it off my shoulder, I wisely kept it transparent side towards me.

There is instant silence, and for a couple of endless seconds, two guards and two hundred cockroaches look at each other.

The face of one of the guards begins to shimmer with amazing shades of green, and for some reason, the other begins to giggle uncontrollably.

I feel this is the turning point and decide to press on:

'Do you want to take a closer look at them? I'm late, of course, but they are awesome!'

Both guards are unanimous this time. They simultaneously wave towards me towards the passage. I pick up things and with regret and hope in my voice, I say that maybe then after the performance I will find them here.

One of the guards blurts out: 'No way!', while the other more restrainedly tells me that their shift is ending soon.

I shrug my shoulders in frustration (two hundred cockroaches, swayed in unison, gave this gesture additional expressiveness), and waving goodbye to them, I walk into the event area. A muffled voice behind me exclaimed: 'Fkn cosplayers!'

Well, it was fun and quite simple.

I haven't even gone through all the steps of my plan.

[petew21-blog]

In control of Jon

Jon Cor is an actor trying to make his way in Hollywood. Mostly appearing in shows shooting in Vancouver. Fortunately he got a pretty decent role in the Flash appearing in a number of episodes happy that he got another chance.

As he was exitting the set. Something stopped him. A sharp paint went through him. Originating in his... ass. Something was making it's way up. He turned around but didn't see anything. There was no one around to help him.

Suddenly his right hand moved on it's own.

"What's happening? Is anybody here? Heeeeelp!!!"

Now he could no longer feel his legs. And his right hand started feeling up his body. Both of his arms lifted up his shirt, inspecting with their fingertips his abs.

Now, in horror his head started moving. And he could no longer speak. He screamed and it didn't make a single sound

His body moved and was clearly into it. He lifted up his shirt and flexed his biceps

"Now that's what I'm talking about!"

Jon:"Who the fuck are you? How did you do this? Why???"

His mouth replied:"Shut the fuck up"

He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans. "Nice. I knew that wouldn't disappoint"

He started jerking off right there on the parking lot. His shirt still partially over his head. His right hand feeling it up. Pressing his pecs, squeezing his balls, choking himself.

"Oh yeah show me what you got big boy"

Jon:"Please, stop. I'll give you anything"

"Yeah? Give me your life then"

Jon:"Please let me go"

He inspected his hairy ass. He looked over the empty parking lot and smiled

"This might get messy"

He licked his two fingers and pushed his way inside of Jon's ass. Looking for prostate to hit him

He nearly collapsed. He was now on Jon's knees, jerking off furiously while fingering himself. He was moaning loudly. Which caught the attention of one of the guards that was making his way to him

Gaurd:"What the hell is going on?"

The possessor:"Wanna join?"

Gaurd:"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave"

The possessor got up on abd with his hard dick pointing at the guard, je got very close

"Don't you know who I am?"

The security guard gulped. He must have seen something in Jon's face that terrified him

The possesor:"Good. Now. Give me the keys from your office. Or I call my employer and he can take care of you himself"

The guard handed over his keys and started running

Jon's body, still naked with his clothes hanging on parts of his body, entered the bathroom of the guards office. He took out Jon's phone and snapped a photo flexing his biceps, while being completely naked. He sent the photo to someone and wrote:"Body secured. Ready for pickup"

He threw away the phone. He won't be needing that anymore

"While I'm still you, Jon. I might finish what I started on the parking lot"

He said as he looked down at his now flacid dick

He noticed the security guards baton on the ground and smiled. "Perfect"

Jon was screaming from the top of his now nonexistent lungs. He wasn't gay, and he definitely wasn't ok with someone else probably selling his body or masturbating in it

The possessor jerked off his dick again, now also slowly sliding in the black shaft of the baton. He was laughing all the time. From beginning.

He was getting his ass pounded and pounded his hand with his new dick

"I gotta say. I love your ass Jon. So flexible. And this veins dick, man. Beautiful. What a shame I can't keep the body"

Jon:"What are you gonna do with it?"

"I'm just gonna fuck myself with this thing and then probably spew all the cum here on the desk. Maybe licking some of it. But that's all I'm gonna do. What you should be asking is 'Who will have your body next?' and I can guarantee you, it won't be you..."

Request from Inbox

Could you please write a possession story of Jon Cor? Thanks in advance!

[giuseppe-yuki]

Just imagine anyone on the grid having a lion or a tiger as an so and rocking up to the paddock (just like tiger king), with the animal on a bedazzled leash and everything

hmm interesting! i honestly tried to stick with smaller animals in my series, as to not spook the fans and reporters around the paddock, but i feel like a tiger shapeshifter!reader is a good concept as well!

i feel like the top contenders to have a tiger shapeshifter s/o would either be someone with a loud personality, like danny, or someone completely unexpected like andrea (kimi antonelli).

here's a little blurb/oneshot i thought up on a whim:

picture credits from pinterest :)

you are woken up from your nap by the shrillest scream you ever heard. you leap back, accidentally trampling a few decorative plants in the back of the mercedes motorhome. oops, you think. in front of you stands bono, lewis' engineer, who looks like he's seen a ghost. eyes wide behind his black framed glasses, he stands, frozen in fear. still blinking sleep from your eyes, you carefully pad in a direction away from the terrified engineer, who is now very noticeably trying to tiptoe away.

it was ironic, really, for the universe to grant you the ability to shapeshift into one of the world's deadliest predators, but make you have the shyest, most timid personality.

you were technically not supposed to be napping under the sun behind the merc hospitality- your boyfriend kimi had told you to wait inside the building while he had a quick meeting with toto. it wasn't your fault that the sun was shining so warmly and the lovely smell of freshly planted flowers were floating outside. you had decided to chill on the grass when you must have fallen asleep (and probably accidentally shifted too).

now, you watch in fear as bono beckons a group of people towards you. they all wear matching black uniforms with the word "security" pasted right in the back with neon yellow letters. god, this was going to be hard to explain when kimi came back.

they approach you, not knowing how to deal with the giant tiger currently huddling in the back of the mercedes motorhome. you couldn't blame them, you knew you looked pretty intimidating, and let's be honest, anyone would be scared if they saw a fierce predator in the wild, much less behind a formula 1 motorhome.

they slowly surround you, batons out, and a few of them talk through their radio walkie-talkies, requesting for "backup". it seems that some reporters and fans have gotten wind of the situation too, because you see some at the edge of the entrance, phones out and recording. you hear them mutter about the weirdness of the scene unfolding in front of them.

suddenly, you hear a familiar accented voice ring out behind the ring of security guards and crowd of people.

"baby, come here!" kimi says firmly. he clicks his tongue twice and beckons you toward him with his finger.

to everyone's surprise, you bound towards him through the now horde of people. they scatter to the side as you race towards your boyfriend. once you skid to a halt in front of him, he brushes his hand through your fur and places a soft kiss on your wet nose. it's a laughable sight, seeing your impressive-sized striped body cowering behind kimi's shorter figure.

bono steps out of the crowd of people, brow scrunched in fear and confusion. "what the-? kimi??? when did you own a tiger?"

your boyfriend laughs. "well, i don't really own her, you know. we just have, eh, what do you call it- a special bond between us." he gives a light hug, squeezing you against him. "i love her very much!"

if you were in your human form, you would definitely be blushing.

turning away from bono, kimi leads you back towards main paddock road, which wasn't hard to do considering the crowd leaving a wide berth of space around you both (probably from the fear of getting eaten by you, even though you would never think to ever do that to someone).

once he reaches the main part of the paddock, he pulls out a bejeweled collar and leash out of his pocket. you look at him questioningly, but don't resist as he threads it around your neck.

"just so no one thinks that you're a random runaway tiger," he explains, tightening it comfortably.

you both continue your walk through the paddocks, this time heading towards kimi's garage. several fans and enigneers scamper out of the way as the see you approach, not used to seeing an actual real life tiger, albeit in a shiny leash and collar.

as you lightly amble towards the entrance of the merc garage, leash trailing behind you from kimi's hand, you spot toto walk by with a big grey wolf on his heels.

he turns to kimi, looking him straight in the eyes, and smirks, eyes twinkling knowingly.

"you got yourself a tiger, huh?"

a/n: sorry i don't know why the picture format is acting up and won't let me make it into a singular row like it usually is 😭

[thissortofsorcery]

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race!! It's been so much fun so far, and I'm so excited to share my piece!

Thank you so much to @kuroubojin for passing the baton to me 💕

--

Billy thought that finally getting King Steve into bed would be different. 

Well, he didn’t think he’d actually get King Steve into bed, in the first place. But as much as Billy hates to admit it, now that he has, he’s feeling a little out of his depth.

In the many, many times he thought about what sex with Harrington would be like, he’d pictured something a little more… Wild. He thought fucking Harrington would be like a fight, biting and clawing and pushing to see who’s gonna come out on top. He thought he’d have to wrestle King Steve down and show him who the real king was, and it would be rough and hot and loud. Impersonal, though. Billy likes to get off fast and easy, after all. There’s no reason to draw it out or to linger after. 

But. But. 

Harrington caught him off guard. Billy never expected the teasing and the pigtail-pulling to pay off in the first place. He didn’t think he’d actually see Harrington’s fire turned on him, giving as good as he got, every barb out of Billy’s mouth being met with burning words and an upturned nose. It only egged Billy on more. 

It came to a point where Billy couldn’t put his eyes on Harrington without his whole body responding, heart thrumming and veins singing with adrenaline, palms sweaty at the sight of an answering smirk. 

And now, well. 

Running into each other at the quarry turned into a shared case of beer and a cigarette, turned into this. 

Billy pinned down on the backseat of Harrington’s damn BMW, leather seats sticking to his sweaty back. Billy doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing; all he knows is that he lost his shirt somewhere in the middle, and his jeans are open and rucked down to his hips. Harrington’s skin is hot, feverish under Billy’s fingertips, soft skin covering firm, defined muscles that roll with every movement of Harrington’s hips. 

Billy’s never cared much about kissing, but he can’t get enough of Harrington’s mouth. It’s obvious that he likes it, having latched onto Billy’s lips however long ago and not relented since. Billy’s not complaining. Harrington finds places in Billy’s mouth that he never thought could feel this good, takes over every one of his senses easy as breathing. He’s a tall wave bowling Billy over, taking up all the space in his head and chest and lungs, and it’s all he can do to hold on. 

There’s no fighting while they fuck, no raucous and derisive laughter, taking potshots at each other like they have something to lose. 

It’s good. 

Billy was sure it would be, but… It’s like nothing he’s felt before. Harrington is everywhere; the scent of his hair products in Billy’s lungs, the taste of his sweat on Billy’s tongue, his body a heavy weight on top of Billy’s. His name on Billy’s lips, a litany of Steve, Steve, Steve that Billy barely registers is coming from him. 

Harrington’s mouth never leaves his skin, not for a second, the maddening slide of his tongue leaving a line of fire wherever it goes. Harrington’s breath is hot on his neck. 

Billy can’t figure out why it feels so overwhelming, why this feels so different from anyone else he’s fucked before. After a while, he stops trying to. 

By the end, Billy doesn’t know which way is up, if it’s been minutes or hours. He can barely hear himself breathe over the thundering of his pulse in his ears. He forgets that he’s not supposed to drag this out, that he’s not supposed to linger, too busy riding the aftershocks of the pleasure Harrington brought out on his body. 

He’s struck dumb. Or fucked stupid, more like. 

This is nothing like he thought it was going to go. It was supposed to be about getting off, but Harrington turned it around on him. 

The backseat is cramped, and Billy’s skin is uncomfortably sticky against the warm leather, but his body sings when Harrington rearranges them so Billy’s lying on top, on his stomach, and with his nose tucked into Harrington’s neck. 

“C’mere,” is all Harrington says. Then he drapes his dumb members only jacket over Billy’s back. “I know how cold you get.”

Billy thinks he might be able to fall asleep like this. He’s not even itching for a cigarette. 

“You good?” Harrington says, and Billy grins against his chest. Harrington’s chest hair tickles his lips. 

“You gotta ask?” Billy laughs, a soft, light thing. He didn’t know he was capable of making a sound like that. 

Billy still can’t feel his toes, but he’s not gonna tell him that. 

“Dunno,” Harrington mumbles. There’s a note of uncertainty to his voice now, a dip in his confidence that Billy wasn’t expecting, not now.

Billy lifts his head to rest his chin on Harrington’s chest. He’s staring at the darkened car ceiling, but his hand is tight on Billy’s hip. 

“Could be better,” Billy says, and Harrington’s eyes jump to him, a touch too wide. Billy’s smirk grows. “The beer’s outside.”

Harrington bursts out laughing, pale throat stretched and gleaming in what little light spills into the car.

“If I go out and get it you’re gonna freeze to death,” he says, one hand coming up to Billy’s face. The tips of his fingers stroke lightly over his forehead, almost imperceptible, and push a stray curl away from Billy’s eyes. 

It hits him then, why everything feels so different from his other fucks. He barely has two brain cells left to rub together, caught in Harrington’s warm gaze, and it’s been niggling at him this whole time. How is it that Harrington can make Billy’s brain just shut off. 

“Wouldn’t want that,” Billy mumbles distractedly.

“No.” Harrington’s smile goes soft around the edges, and his fingers stroke Billy’s cheek. “I wouldn’t.”

Harrington’s looking at him like he’s precious. Like something he wants to keep. 

Billy’s retort gets lost on the way to his mouth.

“I’m good,” is what he ends up saying. Harrington smiles. 

He is good, Billy thinks. Right here, under Harrington’s jacket, legs tangled together, the chill of the night shut away for now. 

He’s better than he’s been in a while. 

--

Thank you for reading my piece!

Please look forward to the next one, done by the the lovely @billysblueeyes!!!! Go go go!!

[zillabean]

A hush falls over the gathered crowd, shivering in its anticipation, before erupting into ear-splitting howls of animalistic fervor. Hannibal "The Cannibal" is trotted out on reinforced chain leads into the hot arena to the sheer delight of the bloodthirsty audience.

Eight months of enslavement in Verger's Alpha Fight Arena as Mason's prized bull thoroughbred has thickened his muscles, as well as his resolve and his fury. Eight months of forced fights, studding, breeding and dehumanization takes a toll on even the most stoic man. The day of his reckoning cannot come soon enough, but Hannibal is patient, and he bides his time.

For now, he obeys. He obeys Mason's whip, the guards' stun batons, the snipers with tranquilizers lining the rooftop of the arena.

He fights. He fights every alpha unlucky enough to be hurled into the ring with him. Undefeated in his string of victories, he still treats each battle as if it could be his last. The gravest mistake an apex predator can make is to get cocky. Enough close calls have taught him that his place atop the Verger empire food chain is a tenous one, hard won through blood, sweat and broken bones, and he defends it well.

After each battle he is bandaged and cleaned up, and paraded out across the hot sands of the arena once more, but for a much different show. Here he is stripped naked, his broad shoulders, honed muscles and impressive girth put on obscene display for the howling audience to admire with screams, howls and stifled gasps as they feverishly place bids upon his body. Verger studs him out to the highest bidder after each fight, his sexual performance a commodity to be bought and sold for top dollar.

The victor is the spoils.

(nsfw on patreon)

[eat-limes-bitches]

Love After War

PAIRING: Female Reader x FATWS! Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: The mind has a way of playing tricks on you, images you thought to be real are just a figment of your past. But how to get back to the present?

WARNINGS: Angst, nightmares, PTSD, panic attack, cannon-level violence, torture, smidgen of fluff at the end

Word Count: 1239

A/N: soooooo this was supposed to be the start of my Febuwhump challenge but with the way my life is going right now I won't be able to finish all the prompts by the end of the month, BUT I will post the ones I have done, and I will keep working on some prompts as well but don't expect them to be in order at all.

Prompt: Helpless

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

The first thing Bucky realized as he came to was how incredibly cold he was. A shiver wracked his body, causing him to try and pull the flimsy material covering him closer to his skin as water poured down on him. Wait- water? He looked to find the source and realized he was in a shower. The cold water turned red as it ran across his body from all the blood there. Was it his or someone else's? Bucky couldn’t tell. 

“SOLDAT.” A voice boomed from behind, causing him to flinch aggressively. He knew that voice, it was one of his handlers, and by the sound of the rapidly approaching footsteps, he wasn’t happy.

“Poydem s nami, soldat. Dok khochet tebya videt'” The voice growled and Bucky froze. 

His frazzled mind still trying to work out where he was and what was going on. His hesitance must have been seen as resistance because the next thing he knew, a rifle butt was flying towards him. 

Confused, Bucky blocked it with his arm, the clash of metal reverberated around the room causing more handlers to pour in, each one with a gun all pointing in the same direction. His pulse was starting to quicken, and every muscle in his body tensed. 

He was so focused on what was going on in front of him that he didn’t notice the guard coming up behind him with a stun baton. The guard struck, causing Bucky to fall to his knees as he hissed in pain, the electric shock causing his arm to fall limp at his side he clutched the useless appendage in his right hand as he looked on in terror as they all started moving in on him. Two of the guards grabbed him and began to drag him out of the room. He knew where they were taking him and as those rusted double doors came into view he began thrashing as wildly as he could to get away but it was no use.

“Bucky?”

They flung open the doors, his senses on hyperdrive as the blinding lights of the room burned his eyes. Noise. There was so much noise, nurses scrambling around, guards shouting, and doctors preparing for whatever horrible things they had planned for him that day. 

“Bucky!”

He tried to fight against them as they strapped him into the chair, but it was no use, he felt utterly helpless as they began tying him down. His metal arm, although useless, was cuffed in 4 different steel brackets to keep him from moving, the rest of his body bolted into place as the panels of the machine began to lower over his face and just as they were about to connect to his skin-

“JAMES!” 

He sucked in a large breath bolting upright in bed and scrambling far away from where he was until he managed to situate himself in the corner of the room. His chest, slick with sweat heaved up and down as he tried to get oxygen to fill his lungs, but his heart was beating too fast for him to do anything but hyperventilate. There was a quiet sound from the other side of the room that made him realize he wasn’t alone, and he let out a whimper as their footsteps got closer, curling in on himself to appear as small as possible. 

“Bucky?” This voice was soft and full of concern, a complete contrast to the voice he heard just moments ago. This intrigued him slightly, but not enough to make him uncurl himself to see who was speaking to him. There was a sigh from the other person and the floorboards squeaked as they moved their entire weight to the floor, sitting on the ground near him.

“Bucky? It’s me, baby.” The voice cooed gently, and with the next breath he took, the familiar smell of cedar and lavender invaded his senses. He peaked his head out from behind his knees and saw Y/n sitting on the floor looking at him with concern coloring her features and sorrow clouding her eyes. She noticed the small movement and smiled gently as her eyes caught his.

“There he is. Hello, my love.” She whispered, a gentle smile decorating her face. Bucky blinked owlishly at her, still not realizing who he was looking at, but still Y/n smiled. 

Progress she thought before she started speaking again, “It’s just me, love. You are safe. We are in our bedroom, in our apartment, no one is going to hurt you.” 

This made him cock his head to the side before looking around the room. There was no one else besides the two of them. Instead of the gurneys, there was a dresser. Instead of blood-stained floors, there was a soft, grey plush carpet. Instead of that chair, there was a bed, and her. Bucky took a deep breath, finally able to fill his lungs and when he did, his body began to shake. He would shake violently for a moment before his muscles would give out and relax before contracting all over again. Y/n watched him carefully and scooted a little closer. 

“Can I sit next to you?” It was a simple question, and it might seem trivial to ask someone you were just sleeping next to if you could be in their space but it was important for Bucky to feel in control of his situation, if he was in control, he was no longer there.  Bucky looked at her and gave a small nod and Y/n moved to sit next to him, her back plastered against the wall. Although she wasn’t touching him, Bucky could feel the warmth radiation from her body, another piece of proof that he wasn’t in the basement of a bunker in the Siberian mountains. The pair sat in silence for a moment, Y/n watching Bucky, and Bucky staring straight ahead at the wall. Y/n shifted, causing Bucky's eyes to leave the spot on the wall and look at her. 

“Can I touch you?” She asked softly. Buckys hesitated for a moment, before nodding again. Y/n scootched closer to Bucky so that their bodies were pressed against each other and she reached over with a hand and ran her fingers through his shortened chestnut locks. That simple action seemed to bring new life back to Bucky and he began to uncurl, leaning into her touch. Y/n began humming a soft melody as she continued to massage Bucky’s scalp. His tremors became less and less until they were all but gone. 

After some more time passed, Bucky wasn’t sure how much, Y/n stopped and gently stood up, offering her hand to him. 

“‘C'mon love, let’s get back in bed. Your back isn’t going to thank you if I let you sleep in the corner.” 

Bucky placed his hand in hers and allowed her to lead him back to bed. Y/n folded back the covers in a more orderly fashion before sliding under the soft grey sheets, motioning for Bucky to do the same. He did so, snuggling back into Y/n’s side listening to her steady heartbeat, reassuring him that he was safe.  She began humming that soft melody again. Feeling warm and safe, his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a dreamless sleep. The last thing he remembered was the whisper of an “I love you,” in his ear.

[sehtoast]

Slices of a New Life (Depowered!Homelander x OC)

18+ | 4.3k, brief somno smut scene at the double divider mark, hurt/comfort, home remodeling, domestic bliss/turmoil, nightmares, shared showers, doctor appointments, emotional breakdowns, lingering trauma, mirrorlander, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

The nightmares were the worst. His body would heal… for the most part, at least. Cuts would mend, scars would form, that chipped molar would become the new norm– at least until he stopped panicking at the thought of seeing a dentist. 

But his mind? 

It never did forget. Not even the trauma he endured in the labs as a child was ever really far from the front of his mind. And now? 

Now there was something new. Something fresh and horrible. 

Something all too happy to pervade his dreams and rip him from what little rest his anxious existence could even get these days.  Night after night, day after day.

If it wasn’t full blown nightmares, it was panic attacks– or were they anxiety attacks?  Fuck, at this rate, who cares?

God knows it’s taken him long enough to get used to standing under the water of the shower since then, but would he ever get used to living again?  

Well.  

If one could even call this living.  The closest he’s gone to outside since Benjamin rescued him has been to see Doctor Edi, and even that was mortifying. 

“Goodness!”  The old woman had gasped when she entered the room.  Benjamin had snuck him into Vought Tower.  It scared him half to death to get carried up the side of the skyscraper now that he could no longer fly, but the web-head insisted he needed to at least get some degree of medical attention after everything, and there was no way in hell Homelander was going in through the front door willingly or letting some stranger poke and prod at him.  Doctor Edi was the only one he’d see, albeit reluctantly. If nothing else, the idea of maybe getting something to help him sleep at night made him a little less reluctant.

Setting foot in the tower felt like a massive mistake the moment they entered.  Ben’s old apartment stung his heart like nothing else, and the walk through the halls had been petrifying despite the fact no one even recognized him in his beanie and hoodie.

And now, sitting before the doctor?

It didn’t take long for the humiliation and shame to turn to rampant anxiety and dread, quickly spiraling far beyond his control until his breathing became rapid.

“Shh,” Ben coos, hands rubbing at his shoulders.  “He’s been like this…”

He wants to yell at Ben to shut his mouth– he has not been weak.  The shame he feels now brings him back to then, back to the cell, back to that guard humiliating him, hurting him day after fucking day.  It grips him by the chest and squeezes every part of him until he feels like he’s suffocating– chest too tight, lungs won’t breathe, heart too fast–

His head is under the weight of that boot again and that fucking cattle prod is going to press against his back soon and–

The chatter between Ben and the doctor fades into garbled words, but he’s at least still visually grounded.  No haziness or swirling yet.  He’s had a few of these already.  It’s only been four weeks since he’s come home, but…

“Once a day,” he hears Ben say clearly.  “Every other if we’re lucky. Shh, pumpkin.  It’s okay…”  

He knows that, he just can’t make it stop once it starts.  The roar of the firehose pummeling him against the wall, the clanging of the baton outside the cell, the coldness of the cement floor all fill his mind. 

Homelander barely registers the feeling of Ben’s jacket being draped over him, but it does somehow soothe his nerves– if only a little. Focus, focus…  Just fucking focus.

“...considered therapy?”

I don’t need fucking therapy! He shouts inside his head, teeth grit as he hisses a shaky breath. The lights are too bright.  His skin feels too tight, he’s itchy, too hot. Stop trying to–

“He doesn’t want to.” Ben answers, then their banter fades out again.  Something about his fear of being recognized...  Homelander clenches his eyes shut and shoves his face against Ben’s chest, knuckles white as he grips the edge of the padded examination table like his life depends on it.  

Somehow that helps.

The two talk for a moment longer, surface level details of what he'd gone through and the extent of his mostly-healed injuries are shared, then suddenly they’re alone and Benjamin is whispering in his ear.

“Remember what we talked about?  Breathe, pumpkin.” 

Easy for you to say.  

But he tries.

“That’s it… Just us now,” Ben whispers.  “Proud of you.  M’sorry to put you through this...”

No… I’m sorry.

But the words don’t come out.  He just clings to his little spider and keeps trying to control his breathing, just like Ben said.

In… and out.

In…

Hold it…

Out. Slow…

“Attaboy.”

At least by the end, after a lot of unpleasant poking and prodding and blood draws, he gets a lovely bottle of sleep medication.  He prays it’ll work.

He’s back to sitting on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table as he flips through channel after channel, app after app.  Ben’s out for the night.  Some stupid fuck just had to blare their sirens loud enough for him to hear…

He feels rotten without his little spider around to distract him.  The voice in his head tends to seize its opportunity without Ben around to soothe the both of them.  It begins with a ringing in his ears, just like always.

Could you get any more pathetic?

He groans, tapping the tip of the remote against his temple as if that would silence his other half.

“We’re not doing this…” He mutters under his breath, jamming his finger down on the volume-up button to drown him out.

Face it tiger, you’re cooked.  Demoted to house pet.

It’s been like this since Ben broke him out of that fucking supe prison.  Hell, his other half taunted him in there, too.  There was no escaping him, nowhere to run, nowhere quiet.  He’s just about to start a whole argument when he hears the telltale sound of the window sliding open and shut.

Saved by the bug. As usual.

John breathes a sigh of relief instantly. They say their hellos and he follows Ben into the bathroom like some sort of lost puppy.  Seems that all he is these days.

“Anything fun?”  He asks, sitting on the ledge of the tub while Ben wets and tousles his mask-flattened hair back to something decent. 

“Mm, some dickhead tearing up a bank.” Ben says.  “Called himself Shocker. Guy was a little weirdo, honestly.”

Homelander huffs a short laugh, betraying the way he truly feels.  This is the only way he can be involved in heroics now.  Hearing about it, watching it on the news, seeing little videos from bystanders on social media.  More than anything though, he hates that he can’t be there.  He should be out there protecting his little spider, making sure none of those rancid fucks put a hand on him.  It’s been a long time since he’s seen Ben injured, but still…

“Hey, how’d that movie end?”

“Stupid.”  He says. “The main guy got killed, the blonde girl lived.  Typical horror movie.  They put the killer through a woodchipper though.  That was cool.”

“Typical horror movie,” Ben echoes in agreement, letting out a big yawn right after. 

The bug offers him a hand, which Homelander takes without hesitation. They wind up in bed, cuddled up close to wind down for the night.  He hates to admit it, but he really is extra clingy these days.

Back when he was stuck in that cell, he’d lay on the cement floor and weep, praying that it was all a dream and he’d wake up to his Benjamin.  It would all be a bad dream; he’d be okay, he’d be at home and safe.  But then his eyes would open the next morning and he’d still be in that cell, still on that floor.

Sometimes he’s scared he’ll wake up on that cold slab all over again.

He falls asleep to fingers raking softly through his hair, warm and content to keep his head atop Ben’s chest, hearing thumps from the heart that claimed him.  And he’s okay for a time, completely and utterly okay.

Until he’s not.

Until he’s back in that cell– until the door swings open and in walks that guard and fear paralyzes him into a perfect ragdoll to be thrown to the floor.

He’s beaten bloody.  Cut and battered, thrown about like the worthless sack of nothing he is, and then that boot is on his head again, prod pressed to his back.

“Beg,” the guard orders.  “Beg for your life.”

The sharp crackle of electricity shocks him back to consciousness, but the words fly off his tongue anyway–

“Please don’t!”

He jolts, damn near falling off the side of the bed if not for the thwip of a web grabbing him by the center of his heaving chest.  The room is lit only by a faint blue glow and he can hardly see, but he knows that sound better than anything.

“Hey– s’okay.  You’re good; you’re safe...”

And he knows that voice.

For a moment, he thought he’d never hear it again.

His breathing is fast and ragged as he comes down from the panic.

“Fuck…” He pants.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Every fucking night with this.  Every single fucking night…

The table light gets flicked on once he’s calm enough to release Ben from the closest thing to a death grip he can muster these days.  Tears of frustration well in his eyes despite his best effort to hold them back. 

They don’t take much more than a second to spill free once Ben's arms wrap around him.

“Sorry,” the bug murmurs as he disconnects each little strand of webbing stuck to him that tugs at his chest hair.

Homelander snorts.  Ben must think he’s crying like this because it hurts. To be fair, it is like having the world's smallest and strongest bandage torn off, but he’s had worse.

He’s had so much worse.

“Did you take your pills?”

“Yes, I took my fucking pills, Ben.”  He snaps.  “For fucks sake, I–”

But he stops.  He always feels guilty after this– after all of it.  The waking, the screaming, the agitation and short-tempered remarks.  He’d never admit to it, but…

Ben doesn’t respond to his outburst.  The bug never did.  Years together now, and Ben’s always been so sickeningly tolerant of him, never cracking even when it’s written on his face clear as day that he’s on his last leg. Patient, even if he sat there in tears from the things Homelander had said to him.  Understanding…

He doesn’t know where the fuck Ben gets it, but he’s glad at least one of them is levelheaded, even if it does piss him off sometimes.  It wouldn’t hurt for the boy to snap and yell back once in a while.  At least it would even the score…

He’s groggy and miserable the next day.  He wakes with a groan, eventually letting Benjamin drag him into a shower.  He’s gotten better with standing under the stream, though he still can’t help but recall what it was like to be on the receiving end of the blistering torrent of that hose in the prison showers when he does.

So, as usual, they take it slow. Ben enters first, holds a hand out, leads him in.  Hugs him close and slowly walks them backward into the water until they’re both wet and all is well.  He leans his head atop Ben’s shoulder, eyes shut as they stand under the warmth.

Benjamin has the day off.  In theory, they could stay there all day.  Whether or not the hot water would last was another thing entirely, but they technically could.

He hums contentedly as a soapy loofah roams his body.  The one benefit left to crawling out of bed in the morning was being spoiled rotten by his little spider.  He never could decide what he liked more: the skincare routine or the hair washing.

Even with his hair buzzed short, Benjamin still took his sweet time raking and rubbing suds into his scalp, even massaging his temples.  It definitely alleviates the tension, that’s for sure.  But then there’s the face wash… Thumbs stroking his cheekbones, smoothing out the worry lines on his forehead, booping the tip of his nose.

Oh, how he adores it all.

Even when they’re done and Ben helps carefully shave away the overgrowth of his facial hair, he loves it.  Two kisses pressed to his cheeks, some kind of serum and moisturizer, and Ben assures him that he’s the most beautiful man alive.

Their morning is spent messing around with the layout of the house.  Most things were put away within the first week of his rescue, though he was in no condition to help.  Ben spent that time building all kinds of furniture at his bedside, dragging it with ease to its new home in some corner or wherever else he saw fit.  Slowly, over time, the house became a home, and today was for finishing touches.  All they had to do was rearrange a few things here or there until it was perfect. 

Homelander snorts a laugh when Ben drags the couch an inch or two to the left while he rests on it.

When they finish, he can’t help but feel something tugging at his heart.  Something he… really hasn’t ever felt.

Sure, he had the cabin.  That was a house and it was his.  It was nice and all, but it wasn’t…. It wasn’t this.

Not even the glory of the penthouse could touch the way this makes him feel.

Emotional was definitely a word for it.

How could he not get choked up?  Looking around, seeing his dream...  The love of his life, pictures of them together, a cozy kitchen, inviting living room, soft lighting because Benjamin knows how he feels about bright overhead lights...  The only thing that was missing was the stereotypical white picket fence, but he could make an exception for something so small when everything he ever dreamed of is right here.

“You have to talk about it at some point.”

“Fuck you!  Fuck! You!”

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh.  Doesn’t mean to shout or grit his teeth or any of it.  But he has to protect himself.

“I know it’s shitty, but keeping it locked up isn’t helping, y’know.”  Ben tells him, calm and collected as ever.  Suppose he has no reason to fear a dog that can no longer bite.  Well, not that he was ever afraid to begin with.

“I already said I’m not seeing a fucking therapist and that’s final!”  He seethes, shaky finger pointing accusingly as if to remind Benjamin that he knows this answer already.  “I–”

“I’m not asking you to go to therapy,” Ben says.  “You can’t anyway until I twist Stan’s nuts hard enough to get you to exist legally on paper and stuff– still can't believe the fuckin’ board brought him back–  I just… Can’t you talk to me?”

Homelander presses two fingers to each of his temples, massaging the frustration and headache throbbing beneath his skin.  “It’s still a no– for fuck’s sake why don’t you ever listen!?”

“Because it’s for you, you goof!”  Ben leans back on the couch as though this weren’t the most heated argument they’ve had since Homelander lost his powers.  “I grew up in therapy, babe.  I’m a good listener. I promise.”

“No.”

“Why?” Ben asks immediately.

“Because–”

Because I don’t want you to know every humiliating thing that’s happened to me.

“I��”

Because I can’t bear to see the way you look at me change again.

“I–”

Because I’m so afraid you’ll see me as more worthless than I already am…

“Fuck you!”  Of course his words come out choked.  Of course he’d have to give himself away in such a pathetic manner.  He realizes he’s been pacing the whole time, agitated. 

There’s nowhere to go.  No blue skies nor clouds in which he can hide.  If he leaves, he’s bound to be seen, bound to be recognized. There’s nowhere in the house he can go without Ben fucking finding him eventually.

His hands grip at his borrowed shorts, clenching, knuckles turning white.  Too much– too warm, too loud, too quiet, can’t get enough air, can’t–

Pathetic.

“God damnit!”  Homelander roars, sinking to his knees, eyes clenched shut with all his might.  His palms press tight over his ears, shielding himself from nothing and everything all at once.  He curls in on himself, like a turtle hiding in his shell– but he hasn’t got that.  He’s like a nerve, raw and vulnerable, utterly at the mercy of the world.

He can’t hear Benjamin approach, can’t feel the kiss of air as the bug squats before him and just stays there.  He just holds himself like that, lip bit between his teeth, eyes shut like gates that would open for nothing and no one as he blocks out the world.

He's that little boy in the lab again, rocking himself in the corner– his only comfort. 

He's the man in the cell, curled up in the fetal position against a cold, hard floor. 

He is anger and rage, sadness and woe, helplessness and desperation. And he feels so small…

He is a dog ready to be put down at any moment by a world from which he can no longer protect himself. A world that is too much for him to bear.

He can’t release his pain into it.

He can’t give the world one more fucking hold over him.

“Are you sure?  I can take you to my stylist. She’s super cool.”

Homelander shakes his head.  That would require going out, plus he’s not sure he’s ready to feel a pair of clippers shear his head again.  Not after they buzzed him nearly bald in the supe prison. Seeing himself look so wrong was…

He doesn’t want to go through that again.

He can’t go through that again.

Ben was off for another day.  He’d just been formally appointed as captain of the new and improved Seven, a clean slate all except for the web-head himself.  Stacks of contract papers littered the desk in the bedroom, and even more were splayed out upon the table in front of the couch.  They’d been sitting for some time.  Homelander had been watching a documentary about Pompeii while Ben sorted through so much legal jargon it was a miracle the bug’s head didn’t explode.

A hand ruffles John’s messy hair.  Four months of growth and it was getting a bit out of hand.  The sides and top were at an oddly equal length, and he was looking quite shaggy.  Benjamin’s offer hangs in the air, but Homelander can’t quite find it in himself to agree to be at the mercy of someone, even if it would be to his benefit.

“I thought you finished picking through your contract.” John says, trying to shift the focus elsewhere. “What’s with this one?”

Ben smiles at him, grinning wide and proud.

“This one’s about you,” he says excitedly.  

Homelander’s brow furrows and he leans forward immediately.  Anxious thoughts ripple through his mind.  Are they trying to come after him?  Would they take him away again– oh god, oh god–

“It's nothing bad, I promise. I’m getting you everything, and I do mean everything.”  Ben tells him. “I’m not letting them raw deal you. Like I said, I'm basically twisting Stan's nuts.  But anyway, uhm, where to start… The stack over there,” the bug points to the corner of the table, “is to get you the shit that’ll prove you exist.  Birth certificate, state ID, social security number– all the government goods, basically. This one,” Ben points at two different stacks, “is to get Vought off your ass for good– except for Doctor Edi, since you said you’re comfortable seeing her.  But that can always change if you want.”

John just sat in awe, brow furrowed as he listened.

“Also, basically any claim that you’re their ‘product,’ and therefore theirs, will be made into the bullshit it’s always been.  Just in case they try to pull that at any point.  I just… I’m trying to cover your ass every way I possibly can.  I know a guy who knows this one cool lawyer.  We got this.”

“I…” Homelander begins, but he can’t think of anything to say.  Even a thank you feels insufficient.

Instead, he leans forward and pulls Ben into a kiss, sniffling and blinking back tears when they part.

“I love you,” Ben tells him firmly.  “I’m not stopping till I know you’re a free man with the world as your oyster.”

When Benjamin wakes, it’s to a fullness slipping in and out of his core.  Delicious pressure clouds his sleep-hazed mind in the best of ways, and he knows the culprit without even turning over.  Hot, heavy breaths pant into his ear, fanning down the curve of his jaw.

“Mmm,” he hums.  “G’mornin, pumpkin.”

Homelander acknowledges Benjamin with a kiss to his nape.  He thrusts slowly, basking in the pleasure rippling through his body.

“So good,” Homelander gasps. Little broken moans escape him with each movement as if any second could spell his undoing. “Couldn't– couldn't help it. Needed you…” he admits. 

A smile cracks across Benjamin's sleepy face. He's almost positive of how this whole thing started, same as it always did. Homelander probably woke up half hard and tried to offset it with some light grinding, but it wasn't enough. 

It never is. 

“Almost… mmm, almost,” he pants, clinging to Ben like his life depended on it. Each roll of his hips came faster and harder until he was rutting sloppily, chasing that release so desperately. “I– oh, fuck, I’m–” he mewls, suddenly choking off his whimpers into a tight, precious moan. His hips halt and quake as he spills, body stiff as a board. 

Ben rocks gently and revels in the little strangled breaths gasped against his neck. This is good, he thinks to himself. Not solely because it felt good– it always did– but because Homelander's confidence had taken such a sharp dive after everything he'd gone through, and it was nice to see him be bold like this again. 

He feels a hand creep down between his thighs, finding his stiff nub and pressing circles to the head of it. It was Ben's turn to hum a moan, his turn to clench and rock until the soft waves of bliss lapped at the shores of his mind and body, crumbling him so gently and powerfully all at once. 

He moans Homelander's name for added effect. He prays it lifts that surge of confidence even more. 

The two lay slumped together for a time, basking in the afterglow.  Ben reaches back to run his fingers through John’s hair, murmuring the first “love you” of the day.

Not even the morning sun could shine brighter than the smile on his precious Johnny’s face in that moment.

He didn’t understand Ben sometimes.  

The bug had bought their home outright after the previous owner moved out to live with her kids.  

“I specifically wanted something a bunch of flippers didn’t fuck up, y’know?” He’d said when Homelander asked about it.  

See, there were several things about the house that were… unique.  Totally pink bathrooms, blue kitchen cabinets, just a ton of outdated aesthetics overall.  But there was nothing wrong that necessitated fixing, so he didn’t get why Ben insisted upon shutting down the spare bathroom to remodel it.

It was a mess. His job was to keep Ben company and, to be fair, it was more interesting to watch him yank the toilet off the floor than browse whatever mud was playing on TV.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”  He asks, head leaned into his hand as he sits atop a step ladder.

“Uhh,” the bug shrugs.  “Mostly.  I mean I watched some videos and called my dad, so… Besides, this is just the destructive part– which, y’know, is the fun part.”

Fair, Homelander thinks.

“Besides, you’re gonna like it when it’s done,” Ben says as he carries the pink monstrosity into the hallway.  “I’ll let you pick the new toileeeet~” He sings while beginning his trek downstairs.

Homelander rolls his eyes, but he is admittedly a little excited at the thought of picking out more things for their house.  They’d only been living there for six months, but it felt like an eternity– like it was theirs this whole time and they only needed to find it.

He hears the front door open and rolls his eyes at the realization that pink eye sore is going to sit on the curb until trash night and the whole neighborhood will know they’ve been using something so hideous.

“You better put a tarp over that thing,” he calls out when he hears Benjamin coming back in.  “Nobody needs to see our shame.”

Ben’s giggles ring in time with footfalls ascending the stairs.

“Oh? I thought you didn’t mind the pink throne?”  He teases.  Benjamin has a chisel and hammer in one hand, as well as a pair of protective gloves, glasses, and a respirator mask in the other.  He offers them all to Homelander, then nods in the direction of the bathroom.  “C’mon, you’re helping me chip the tile off the walls.”

“I am not wearing that,” he says flatly.

“You are if you wanna break stuff.”

“You’re not even wearing a mask, I–” he tries, but stops short when Ben yanks his Spidey mask from his back pocket and dons it.  “Ugh. Fine…”

At least they look ridiculous together.

[rainandandy]

Bigger than the whole sky

Pairings: Rain Carradine X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Contains graphic depictions of violence, including public beatings and injuries that lead to death, themes of loss and grief, and the depiction of a harsh, dystopian environment with elements of oppression and cruelty. It also includes scenes of emotional distress, as characters witness the death of a loved one. Please read with caution.

Word Count:4209

Note: Kinda just went on with this one..... it hurt to write this and I based it off of the Gale beating scene in Hunger Games Catching Fire. Hope you enjoy (cry your heart out) with this

Life on Jackson's Star was steeped in bleakness, each day unfolding under the shadow of Weyland-Yutani's relentless control. The air was thick with dust and despair, the sky a perpetual overcast of smog that blurred the line between day and night. You, along with Rain and her brother Andy, had adapted to this harsh reality with a resilience born of necessity. Navigating through the oppressive regime required a careful balance of caution and subtle rebellion, as the omnipresent surveillance drones buzzed overhead like carrion birds waiting for a misstep.

The colony itself was a sprawling network of industrial complexes and cramped living quarters, all constructed with the cold functionality of corporate efficiency. The metallic clang of machinery and the hiss of steam were the constant backdrop to your lives, reminding you that the colony's primary function was to serve the company's interests, not the welfare of its inhabitants.

Despite the ever-present danger of being singled out by the guards for any perceived infraction, you three maintained a semblance of hope. In whispered conversations as you worked the barren fields or scavenged for parts among the debris, you shared dreams of a life beyond the company's grasp. These dreams were defiant sparks in the oppressive gloom of Jackson's Star, small but bright enough to keep the darkness at bay.

That day, as you toiled in the fields of Jackson's Star, the atmosphere was unusually tense, the air heavy with more than just the usual burdens. The rich, damp scent of freshly turned earth mingled oddly with the sharp, acrid tang of industrial exertion—a stark reminder of the unnatural union of nature and machine that characterized your existence. Clouds hung low, a somber gray canopy that seemed to press down on the landscape, intensifying the oppressive feel of the day.

The guards patrolled with heightened vigilance, their movements sharp and deliberate. Their fingers rested uneasily on the handles of their batons, twitching occasionally with a nervous energy that mirrored the electric charge of the air. Every step they took sent small shivers of apprehension through the ranks of laborers, their boots leaving deep, menacing imprints in the muddy ground.

Rain, ever the embodiment of resilience and quiet rebellion, had momentarily paused her labor. Leaning heavily on her shovel, she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her mud-streaked hand. Her chest heaved from the exertion, breaths coming in short, labored gasps that she tried to quiet, knowing all too well the dangers of displaying fatigue.

It was this moment of vulnerability, however fleeting, that drew the attention of a particularly ruthless officer. Known among the workers for his harsh discipline and cold demeanor, his eyes locked onto Rain with predatory precision. The badge on his chest seemed to gleam more fiercely under the overcast sky, a symbol of the unchecked authority he wielded. His approach was deliberate, each step measured to instill fear, his shadow falling ominously across the rows of bent backs and bowed heads.

As he drew closer, the underlying threat in his posture was unmistakable, his baton now an extension of his arm, raised not just as a tool but as a weapon of control. His presence loomed over Rain, a dark cloud in a field already devoid of sunlight, ready to burst at the slightest provocation.

The overseer's voice sliced through the humid air, a harsh interruption to the muffled cacophony of clanking tools and muted conversations of the weary workers. "Hey! No resting!" His tone was sharp, the authority in his command unwavering as his eyes fixed on Rain. With a menacing flourish, he raised his baton, the metal gleaming ominously under the harsh artificial lights of the work fields.

Rain looked up slowly, her expression unflinching, molded into a mask of steely resolve that seemed to stiffen her spine. Her hands, calloused and stained from the day's labor, clenched into fists at her sides. She met the overseer's gaze with a defiant fire burning in her eyes, her jaw set, bracing for the confrontation she knew was coming.

From just a few feet away, you witnessed the standoff, and a fierce, protective rage surged within you. The overseer’s blatant aggression, the threat looming so palpably in the air, sparked a primal defiance in your chest. Your muscles tensed, coiled springs ready to release. Without a moment’s hesitation, your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you forward.

"Leave her alone!" Your voice, loud and clear, cut through the tension like a knife. Every eye in the vicinity snapped towards you, including Rain's, which flickered briefly with something akin to worry and gratitude. The overseer turned his glare towards you, baton still raised, his expression twisting into one of surprise and then anger at your challenge.

"This doesn’t concern you," he spat, his words dripping with venom. But standing there, facing down the threat to someone you cared deeply about, you felt a steadfast resolve take root. This was your battle too, and you wouldn't back down. "She’s just catching her breath, sir," you said, your voice a calm contrast to the growing tension, trying to diffuse the situation. "We’ll get back to work right now."

The officer halted, mere inches from you, his shadow looming over you like a dark cloud. His face twisted into a sneer of outrage at your audacity to challenge him. "Double shift for you, then," he hissed venomously, his baton now lifted to emphasize his authority. The electronic hum of the baton was a clear threat as it activated, crackling with energy. "Think you can undermine me? You'll regret it."

Your heart raced as you maintained eye contact, refusing to show the fear that skittered down your spine. As the officer turned away, his message clear, you felt Rain’s hand reached out, touching your arm lightly, her expression tormented. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words seemed to catch in her throat, stifled by the oppressive atmosphere.

Seeing her distress, you turned to her, your eyes locking. It was a silent communication, filled with years of shared hardships and understanding. You shook your head slightly, a clear signal. "You’re finished for the day. Go home, I’ll manage," you murmured quietly, pushing her gently toward Andy, who stood a few steps behind, his synthetic eyes wide with a programmed concern that mirrored human fear.

"But I can help—" Rain started to argue, her voice low and urgent.

You cut her off, your tone soft but firm, "No, Rain. It’s better if you're not involved. Please, for me, just go back with Andy. Stay safe." The plea in your voice was evident, each word laced with your concern not just for your own welfare but profoundly for hers.

Rain's eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions passing through them—fear, frustration, helplessness. Finally, with a weighty exhale, Rain gave a reluctant nod. Her fingers tightened around yours, conveying a silent vow to return. "Be careful," she murmured, her words nearly whisked away by the brisk wind. She hesitated, her gaze lingering on you with a mixture of fear and resolve, before Andy gently guided her away. Even as they retreated, her eyes kept darting back to you, etching every detail into her memory, laden with palpable concern.

Rain and Andy hurried back to the sanctuary of your shared quarters, the familiarity of the space a stark contrast to the chaos of the fields. The safety of these walls, peppered with personal touches and memories of quieter times, stood as a silent testament to the life you had built together amid the harsh realities of Jackson’s Star. As the hours ticked by, Rains worry only grew.

The fleeting sense of relief vanished as the harsh chirp of the communicator shattered the tense silence. Rain's heart skipped as Tyler's voice, laden with unmistakable dread, crackled through the speaker. "Get to the square—now! They have her." The urgency in his tone sent a chill down her spine, each word heavy with a grim portent that sent them rushing into the cold, unforgiving night of Jackson's Star.

Rain and Andy raced through the oppressively dim corridors of Jackson’s Star, their boots pounding against the cold metal floor, the sound reverberating off the narrow walls, amplifying their urgency and dread. The dim lighting flickered overhead, casting ghostly shadows that danced along the walls, mimicking their frantic pace. As they emerged into the open expanse of the square, their breaths were ragged, steam rising in the chilled air, mingling with the low murmur of the gathered crowd.

The scene that unfolded before them was one of stark terror and injustice, staged in the heart of the colony under the harsh glare of floodlights. The square, usually a place of communal gathering, had transformed into a chilling tableau of authoritarian display. At its center, raised above the muttering crowd on a grim platform, stood you—your figure stark and diminished, bound tightly with rough cords that cut into your skin. The fabric of your work clothes was stained dark with blood, stark against the pale severity of your skin, lending a macabre tone to the scene.

Rain’s heart thudded painfully against her ribs, a stark contrast to the numbing coldness spreading through her veins as she caught sight of you. The captain of the patrol was there, his voice booming unnaturally loud through the speakers, reciting a list of crimes so absurd and fabricated that they would have been laughable under any other circumstance. His words sliced through the murmurs of the crowd, each one landing like a physical blow against Rain's consciousness.

"They’re going to kill her," Rain murmured, the realization slicing through her like a cold blade. Her words were barely audible, lost beneath the cacophony of the square, yet they carried the weight of an unbearable foreboding. Andy, standing steadfast by her side, reached out a hand to steady her, his own expression one of muted horror, unable to fully simulate human emotion but clearly programmed to respond with empathy.

Rain's face was ashen, the color drained as if she herself had been bled of life. Her eyes, wide and filled with a palpable terror, were fixed unblinkingly on you, witnessing the grim spectacle of the guards preparing their instruments of torture. The sight of the metallic electronic batons, glinting ominously under the artificial lights, sent a shiver of dread down her spine.

In that moment, the square felt colder than ever, the usual hum of colony life drowned out by the grave proceedings of this cruel justice. The crowd around them seemed to fade into a blur, their faces either grim or impassively curious, none daring to intervene. Rain felt a surge of helpless rage mixed with her fear, a tumultuous storm that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

The scene at the square was charged with tension and dread. The crowd that had gathered murmured and shifted on their feet, their discomfort palpable in the heavy air as the officers prepared for the beating. You stood defiantly, your back straight, jaw clenched, bracing yourself against the rough wood of the beam to which you were tied. The first blow came down hard, the sound of the baton striking you echoed through the square, a harsh clack that seemed to resonate in the chests of all who heard it.

You didn't give them the satisfaction of hearing you scream. Your teeth were gritted, each breath through them a hiss of pain and defiance. The guards, emboldened by your silence, continued with increased ferocity, each strike aimed to break your resolve.

At the edge of the crowd, Rain's face was a mask of agony. "Stop it! Just stop, please!" Her voice broke through the murmurs, shrill with fear and desperation. Her hands were balled into tight fists at her sides, her fingernails digging into her palms, drawing blood that dripped unnoticed to the ground. She made a move to break through the crowd, to run to you, but Tyler and Bjorn caught her by the arms, pulling her back.

"Rain, no! You can't—you’ll only get yourself killed!" Tyler hissed, trying to anchor her back with his strength.

Bjorn added in a low, urgent tone, "Look at me, Rain! We can't help her by getting ourselves killed. We have to think this through."

Rain struggled against their grip, her eyes never leaving you, witnessing each brutal blow. "They're killing her!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with terror. "We can’t just stand here and watch this happen!"

As the beating continued, each impact sending shockwaves of pain through your frame, the reality of your situation sank in deeply for everyone present. This wasn’t merely a punishment; it was a spectacle designed to quell any thoughts of defiance among the workers. Your suffering was meant to remind them of their place under the oppressive heel of Weyland-Yutani.

Bjorn's grip on Rain’s arm was iron-tight, his voice a harsh whisper in her ear, cutting through the chaos with desperate urgency. "It’s a setup," he growled, his words laced with a bitter edge of realism. "They’re pinning all types of lies on her.”

Rain's face crumpled, tears carving clean paths down her dirt-streaked cheeks. She tried to move forward, to reach you, to scream out against the monstrous injustice, but her friends held her back, knowing any further action would only lead to more tragedy. "Please," she choked out, her voice strained to breaking. "They can't do this. Not to her."

The crowd around you swelled, a collective beast of spectators who watched as the guards, satisfied with their grim work, finally stepped back. Your body, so full of fight and spirit, now hung limp and defeated. The sight was a brutal blow to Rain, her knees buckling under the weight of despair. "No, no, no," she sobbed, her hands reaching out futilely as if she could somehow bridge the distance and bring you back to her.

As the guards finally ceased their brutal assault, wiping the dark smears from their metallic batons with nonchalance, one of them looked over to Tyler and the rest of your friends with a nod that bore the weight of finality. “They’re done,” Tyler muttered, his voice ringing hollow in the charged atmosphere, betraying the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. "We need to get her out of here." Kay, with her medical kit clutched tightly in her hands, was already bulldozing her way through the stunned onlookers. Her voice cut sharply through the tension, "Move!" she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. The guards, taken aback by her audacity, stepped aside, allowing her access to the platform.

Reaching you, Kay dropped to her knees, her hands moving quickly and efficiently as she checked for any sign of life. Her face was set in a mask of concentration, the lines around her mouth taut with concern. She pressed two fingers against your neck, searching for a pulse. After a tense moment, she looked up, her expression grim but relieved, "She’s alive. Just barely. Help me get her back."

Rain, who had been frozen by fear and grief, sprang into action at Kay's words. Her eyes, red-rimmed and haunted, met Kay's as she helped lift your limp body. "Be careful with her," Rain whispered, her voice trembling as she and Kay maneuvered you down from the platform.

As they carried you through the crowd, which parted silently to let them pass, Rain’s mind raced with panic and fear, each step towards their compound

Back at the small, dimly lit compound that you, Rain, and Andy called home, the air was thick with tension and the lingering scent of blood. The cramped quarters, usually filled with quiet conversation and the occasional joke, now felt suffocating under the weight of the night’s events.

As you were laid gently on the makeshift table, Rain hovered over you, her hands trembling as they brushed the hair from your bloodied face. "Please, stay with me," she whispered, her voice breaking, barely more than a desperate plea.

Navarro, who had always been calm in a crisis, took charge immediately. "Clear the table," she ordered, her voice steady. She moved quickly, removing the few items that cluttered the surface. "We need space to work."

Kay, who had been training as a medic before Weyland-Yutani’s brutal regime took hold, was already digging through her kit. "We need clean water, towels—anything we can use to stop the bleeding," she instructed, her hands shaking as she unpacked bandages and antiseptic.

Andy shuffled awkwardly by the door, his eyes flickering with distress. "I-I’ll get the w-water," he stuttered, his synthetic voice faltering as he rushed to the small sink in the corner, fumbling with the handle before managing to fill a bowl.

The first thing Kay did was assess your wounds, her expression growing more grim by the second. "This is bad," she muttered under her breath, though Rain caught the words and felt her heart clench in response.

"Just tell me what to do," Rain said, her voice thick with fear but laced with determination. "Tell me how I can help."

"Keep pressure here," Kay instructed, guiding Rain’s hands to a deep gash on your side. The wound bled sluggishly, staining Rain’s fingers a dark crimson. "Navarro, I need more gauze, and a needle and thread. We have to stop the bleeding before anything else."

As Rain pressed down, she leaned close to you, her breath warm against your ear. "You’re going to be okay," she whispered, though her voice trembled. "I’m right here, baby. We’re going to get you through this."

You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open just enough to focus on her. "Rain..." your voice was weak, barely more than a rasp. "I’m... sorry."

"Don’t," Rain choked out, tears welling in her eyes. "Don’t apologize. Just hold on, okay? Just hold on."

The room was silent save for the occasional clink of metal instruments and the sound of your labored breathing. The bowls of water that Andy brought over quickly turned pink, then a deep red as Kay and Navarro worked to clean your wounds. The table beneath you was soon stained with blood, the scent of iron heavy in the air.

Kay’s hands moved quickly, stitching up the worst of the gashes, her face set in concentration. "We need to get her stable," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "She’s lost too much blood."

Andy hovered nearby, clutching a clean towel he had found, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and helplessness. "W-will she be okay?" he asked, his voice small and hesitant.

"We’re doing everything we can," Navarro replied, her tone a blend of reassurance and reality. She exchanged a look with Kay, who only shook her head slightly.

Rain noticed the exchange, her heart sinking further. "She has to be okay," Rain whispered, her voice cracking. "She has to."

Hours passed, and the night deepened, the oppressive silence of the compound only broken by the sound of your shallow breaths and Rain’s quiet murmurs. She held your hand tightly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a rhythm meant to comfort both you and herself.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the words she was afraid she’d never get to say again. "Please don’t leave me. Not like this."

You managed a weak smile, though it took all the strength you had left. "Love you... too," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. "Always."

Rain leaned down, pressing her lips to your forehead, her tears mingling with the blood and sweat that covered your skin. "Always," she echoed, her heart breaking with every passing second.

As dawn approached, your breath became more labored, the fight slipping from your body. Rain felt the shift, her entire world narrowing down to the weakening pulse beneath her fingertips. "No, no, no," she whispered frantically, her grip tightening as if she could somehow keep you anchored to life. "Please, don’t go."

You looked up at her, your eyes filled with a mixture of pain and peace. "It’s okay," you whispered, though it cost you everything to say it. "I’ll... always... be with you."

Rain’s sobs filled the room as your eyes slowly closed, your hand slipping from hers as your body went still. The silence that followed was deafening, a hollow void where your heartbeat had once been.

"She’s gone," Kay said quietly, her voice steady but carrying the unmistakable edge of sorrow. Her words cut through the room like a blade, the finality of it crashing down on Rain like a tidal wave. The compound, already dim and cold, seemed to grow even darker.

Rain didn’t respond immediately. Her body began to tremble, first just a slight shiver in her shoulders, then growing into a full, uncontrollable shaking as the reality of your loss settled in. She leaned over your still form, her tears falling in relentless streams, splashing against your skin. "No... please, no," she sobbed, her voice breaking, clutching at you as if holding you tighter could somehow pull you back from the abyss.

Andy, who had been standing nearby, approached hesitantly. His synthetic form seemed to sag under the weight of the moment, his usually bright eyes dimmed with a sorrow that was unnatural for a machine. "R-Rain," he stuttered, his voice halting and filled with a strange echo of human grief. "She... she loved you so much."

The room felt suffocating, the air thick with despair. Tyler stood off to the side, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. He stared at the floor, unable to look at you, unable to reconcile the brutal end you had met with the strong, vibrant person he had known. His chest heaved with the effort to keep his own emotions in check, but the tear that slid down his cheek betrayed his inner turmoil.

Bjorn, always the stoic, had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression unreadable. But his eyes were fixed on Rain and your body, the usual hardness in his gaze softened by a quiet, painful understanding. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. For all his gruff exterior, the sight of Rain breaking down over your body pierced through his defenses.

Navarro, who had been helping Kay moments earlier, stepped back, her hands shaking. The blood that had stained her fingers felt like it was burning into her skin, a reminder of how close they had all come to saving you—and how far they had failed. She pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob that threatened to break free, her eyes brimming with tears.

As Rain's sobs grew louder, more desperate, the room's silence was broken only by the sound of her heartbreak. "Please, don’t leave me," she whispered through her tears, her voice small, broken. She pressed her forehead against yours, her fingers tangled in your hair as she pleaded with you, as if willing you to open your eyes, to take just one more breath.

Andy knelt beside her, his mechanical hand resting gently on her shoulder, though his touch was cold. "I’m s-sorry," he managed to say, his voice almost robotic but laden with the echoes of human grief. "She was b-brave."

Tyler finally moved, crossing the short distance between him and Rain. He placed a hand on her back, his own tears now falling freely. "She saved you, Rain," he said softly, his voice strained with the effort to keep it steady. "She saved us all."

Rain didn’t respond, her world having collapsed to just you and the unbearable loss that consumed her. She clung to you, pressing her face into your neck, her sobs muffled against your skin. "I can’t... I can’t do this without you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Please, wake up. Please."

But the silence that followed was deafening, the finality of your death sinking into the hearts of everyone present. Kay moved around the table, gently covering your body with a blanket, her movements slow and reverent, as if any sudden action might shatter the fragile hold they all had on their emotions.

As the hours passed, the reality of the situation set in. Rain never left your side, her fingers still entwined with yours, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Andy remained close, his presence a silent vigil, his circuits whirring quietly in the background.

Bjorn and Tyler took turns keeping watch at the door, their usual banter replaced by a heavy silence. Navarro sat in a corner, her knees drawn to her chest, staring at the floor as she tried to process the loss.

Rain’s heart ached with a pain so deep it felt like it would consume her whole. But through her grief, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: you had saved her, sacrificed everything for her, and that knowledge, though it brought her no comfort, would be the anchor that kept her from completely drowning in her sorrow.

She leaned over, pressing one last kiss to your forehead, her tears mixing with the blood still staining your skin. "I’ll never forget you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’ll never stop loving you."

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Silver - Ceremonial Robes Vignette

"I want to repay that debt of gratitude"

[Courtyard]

Idia: Ugggh～～～ Nope, nope, nope! Why's the Spelldrive Tournament have to be broadcasted on TV, anyway?

Idia: Just thinking of showing my face on TV feels like I've gained some kind of embarrassment debuff. I have to figure some way around this…

Idia: It's 19:00 right now… The Mystery Shop should still be open.

Idia: I just gotta buy a welding mask and hide my face all day tomorrow, if that's what it takes…!

[rustle, rustle]

Idia: Waah!? S-S-S-Something definitely just moved―

Silver: WHO GOES THERE!? IDENTIFY YOURSELF AT ONCE!

Idia: Eeek!? I-I-I-I-I'm definitely not s-s-s-s-suspicious at all…!

Idia: I'm I-Idia Shroud!!! F-F-F-From Ignihyde!

Idia: So, please s-stop pointing that baton at me…!

Silver: Ah… I see, it was just you, Idia-senpai. Which means it was not some dubious presence.

Idia: I-I feel like you're the more dubious one, jumping out of a bush like that and brandishing a baton in someone's face…

Silver: Why are you wandering around at this time of night, anyway? Most folks around this time are partaking in dinner back in their dorms.

Idia: I-I was off to buy a welding mask…

Silver: Were you planning on using it for some sort of engineering experiment?

Idia: Urgh… Well, what about you, wh-wh-why're you running around in your ceremonial robes?!

Silver: That is because this attire is perfect for blending in during dusk.

Silver: It is a little difficult to maneuver around in, but at present time, due to an incident, I don't currently have my dorm uniform.

Idia: H-Huh? So, why're you in stealth mode, then?

Idia: S-Silver-shi, are you actually some sort of ninja?

Silver: Hm… What is a ninja?

Idia: Rumored to hail from a far eastern country, they are a people who covertly work to uncover intelligence or do other dirty jobs.

Idia: Haven't you ever heard of shurikens, or fire breath jutsu or whatnot?

Idia: You'd find them in a bunch of animes, and in video games the ninja is a super popular class, on par with samurai!

Silver: Idia-senpai… You're suddenly very loquacious.

Idia: Ah… My bad, went full on geek there…

Silver: I understand your explanation… However, I am not a "ninja."

Idia: When you shoot me down without sparing any emotion like that, I feel even more embarrassed now…

Idia: So… Why were you wandering around the courtyard at night then, Silver-shi…?

Silver: Tomorrow is the Spelldrive Tournament. The academy will be open to the public, and people from all walks of life will have gathered here, from the common folk to foreign dignitaries.

Silver: I was on the lookout for any possible assassin that may have chosen to take advantage of the bustling crowds.

Silver: It would be a disaster if something were to happen to Malleus-sama.

Idia: You're definitely thinking too far! Malleus-shi's got some OP cheat codes, don'tcha think you're being too overprotective?

Silver: My lord and master Malleus-sama will one day be king of the faefolk and rule over Briar Valley.

Silver: Before coming to this school, he would be surrounded by his guards if he ever took one step outside the castle for any reason.

Idia: Uh-huh…

Silver: If something were to ever happen to Malleus-sama, it could lead to an international incident.

Silver: Therefore, I do not consider this as being overprotective.

Idia: Wh-Wh-What's with this epic tale…?

Idia: I've only ever heard of assassins and international incidents ever happening in games, though…?

Silver: This is no game. This is our reality.

Idia: W-W-Woooooah…! I wish I could say a line that cool, too…!

Silver: …? If you wish to say it, you should.

Idia: Nah, it only sounds good coming from you, but if I tried saying that I'd just get ROFL'd at.

Silver: I see… I don't truly understand, but I apologize.

Silver: Well then, I will be going back to my rounds. Take care to not be mistaken for someone suspicious.

Silver: Both Sebek and Lilia-senpai are also patrolling the school grounds as well, after all.

Idia: G-Got it… I'll up my stealth modifier just like you did, then. B-Bye.

Silver: Right, see you.

Silver: I should link up with Sebek and Lilia-senpai and let the know that Idia-senpai is wandering around the courtyard.

Silver: It could be disruptive to others if Sebek were to encounter him and cause an uproar.

[Courtyard]

Idia: Whew… Done with class, finally. But, ugh, the sun's so bright today… This is the worst AoE for a shut-in…

Idia: On days like these, I just wanna hole up in my room and just lose myself in my dailies.

???: …

Idia: …Hm, is someone there?

Idia: S-S-S-S-S-Silver-shi!? Why're you collapsed dead in the courtyard!?

Silver: Zzz… Zzz…

Idia: Oh… Is he just sleeping…? The shock made me think the worst…

Idia: …But, dang, he sure has a handsome face. I bet everyone flocks to his good looks～

Idia: He looks all sparkly and princely when he's sleeping, to the point where even small, wild animals would gather around him…

Idia: He's completely different now than the guy I encountered right before the Spelldrive tournament.

Idia: It was scary having him point that baton at me…

Idia: He's the type of guy I never woulda gotten involved with if that'd never happened.

Silver: Mm… Rrhn…

Idia: Eek! H-H-H-He's w-waking!?

Silver: [yawn] Oh… I had a fleeing suspicion someone was there. Hello, Idia-senpai…

Idia: N-N-N-N-Nuh-huh!! I definitely wasn't staring at your sleeping face, Silver-shi!!

Silver: Hm? Please, calm yourself. You seem to be startled and tense whenever we meet.

Idia: Th-That's just a normal introvert reaction, though…

Idia: A-A-A-Anyone'd be jumpy, anyway, if they got a baton swung in their face, like last time.

Silver: You may be right… I apologize for what occurred then.

Idia: Urgh… Now I feel bad that you're apologizing so sincerely.

Idia: Silver-shi, you're pretty strange… Not only are you way more straight-forward than any of my dorm students, but also pretty loyal…

Silver: …Is that so?

Idia: Y-Yeah. There's no way anyone in Ignihyde would patrol after dark just to keep their Housewarden safe…

Idia: …Ah! O-O-Or maybe, does Malleus-shi rule through fear to keep the Diasomnian in line?

Idia: Th-That would make more sense… So, you were forced to do those night patrols, then?

Silver: He has no need to rule Diasomnia through fear. Even our patrol the other night was done of our own volition.

Silver: I do not know the relationship between you and the other Ignihyde students, but I would do whatever I can for the one I have sworn allegiance to.

Silver: The fact that I am here today is all thanks to my father and Malleus-sama.

Silver: Simply put, I want to repay that debt of gratitude to the both of them.

Idia: Wow… You may have kept a cool face throughout that speech, but that was just as passionate as any nerd infodumping…

Idia: Maybe we're just two peas…

Silver: In addition, I would like to prevent any sort of conflict between human countries and Briar Valley, if some trouble were to befall Malleus-sama.

Silver: I may not have much power, but I would like to do as much as I can.

Silver: My father always said while I was growing up that fighting was not the answer.

Idia: Woah… That's pretty deep.

Idia: Sounds like that father of yours is one of those charas with muscles of steel and an indominable will.

Silver: Yeah. My father was a member of the royal guard who served the royal family of Briar Valley.

Silver: I hear not only was he a renowned warrior, but the Queen herself trusted him personally.

Silver: He may be retired now, but back then, he was a soldier who had put his life on the line in battle and gained much accolade.

Silver: I'm sure he's had many a harrowing experience that I cannot even begin to imagine…

Idia: Y-You serious? This sounds like something out of an open-world RPG or something…

Silver: "Open-world"?

Idia: It's a type of online game. Yeah, sorry, I know a normie wouldn't know that. Sorry I'm such a nerd.

Silver: No, I know of online games. My father often stays up all through the night playing those sorts of games.

Idia: HUH!? Your pop just went from hero to zero in one go!?

Silver: My father has always loved keeping up with whatever is currently all the rage. He recently got a Magicam account, as well.

Idia: Huuuuh!? The image of a battle-hardened general of an elite royal guard is crumbling before my eyes…!

Lilia: Heeey, Silver. Why're you just shooting the breeze over here?

Lilia: You promised to help me out with that extra hard quest after classes.

Silver: Fa… Lilia-senpai. My apologies, I'll be right there.

Lilia: Hm…? Oh hey, it's Idia. Didn't expect to see you here with him.

Idia: Ah, uh… L-L-L-Lilia-shi. This is, uh…

Silver: He just happened to encounter me sleeping here.

Silver: Idia-senpai, see you later.

Idia: Y-yeah, later…

Idia: …It was kinda cool hearing about Silver-shi's dad.

Idia: He's a decorated soldier from Briar Valley, but also is really into video games and is a Magicammer lol.

Idia: If a guy like that really exists somewhere out there, even someone who hates people as much as I do would probably enjoy meeting him…

[Diasomnia Dorm – Hallway]

Lilia: I need to grind to prepare for the new items that are dropping soon. There's going to be a seasonal event next week, too. Ah, so busy.

Silver: You seem to always be in good spirits when talking about your games.

Lilia: They didn't have these newfangled online games when I was younger, you know.

Lilia: People from around the world can now enjoy playing with each other without worrying about physical borders. Society truly as gotten so blissful.

Silver: You're absolutely right. And when it comes to the world in which you are able to enjoy gaming so much…

Silver: I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I must protect it.

Lilia: …You've grown to talk pretty big, it seems.

Lilia: Well then, let's put money where that mouth is and start our marathon of gaming! I be letting you sleep on me tonight～!

Silver: P-Please, anything but that, Father…

Requested by Anonymous.

[nelo0wesker]

Prison Break part 4!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

@violetmuses @thesizzler @yeahnohoneybye

Armando x reader

——————-

Armando wakes up hearing the sound of beeping. He turns his head, his eyes hurting how bright it is, making him close them again until he can adjust to the brightness of the room. He turns his head and pauses seeing you asleep. An oxygen mask over your mouth. He tries to get out of his bed to get to you but quickly realizes he cuffed to the bed.

“She’s recovering,” Mike tells him, sitting in a chair next to his son's bed. He gets out of his seat walking towards him. “She nearly didn’t make it but she’s fighting right now. She’s recovering”. Armando turns to her. He was so relieved that she was recovering. He tries to hand over to her quickly forgetting he was cuffed.

“Sorry it’s protocol.” Mike tells him watching the look Armando had toward you. “You’ll be doing a lot of time in jail. I’ll try and work on your sentence for her… and for you” he tells him really wanting to be in his life. “I'll be here for you now, okay.” Mike says and turns to her. “Both of you… I’ve paid for her and your medical bills. I’ll try and support both of you”

Armando turns to his father. His eyes had a look of weakness in them but he didn’t say anything but just gulps and nods. He didn’t want to show weakness to his father. “Has she woken up yet?” Armando finally asks to speak for the first time since he woke up. Mike shook his head no. “No the doctors says she’ll wake soon but you’ll be in prison by the time she wakes up”

Armando looks at you sadly, not caring he’s going to prison. “Is she going to prison?” He questions him looking up at Mike. Mike looks at him and then her. “No… we didn’t find any evidence that she was a part of the cartel except her being there” he tells him and Armando breathes out a sigh of relief hearing that. “She was just there. She didn’t do anything” he lied to him not wanting Mike to know Y/N was a criminal. He was trying to protect her. “She was just a bystander… she wasn’t part of any of the cartel plans” Armando tells Mike seriously

—————-

Y/N wakes up a couple days later turning her head. She opens her eyes and then immediately closes them to the bright light. The hospital walls were to white making it bright in her eyes. She turns her head seeing Mike.

Mike gets up seeing her awake. “Finally awake. You took a big hit from Isabel” Mike tells her, watching her movement. Seeing that she’s looking around him for someone most likely Armando. “He’s not here… he’s in prison” he tells her and her eyes are waters hearing that. “Prison? How many years!?” She asks him to cry. “It hasn’t been decided yet” he tells her knowing Armando will be there for a long time but he’ll try and shorten his sentence.

“Am I going to jail?” She questions him and he shakes his head no. “There wasn’t any evidence of you working with the cartel. You were just a bystander… in the files it’s speculated that Isabel used you to control Armando but that’s just a theory. The department isn’t sure” Mike tells her and she nods her head not saying anything. “Will I be able to visit him?” She questions him. “Not now but later when he’s able to have visitors. You just rest for now. Armando wouldn’t want you to harm yourself when you're healing. That bullet nearly killed you” he tells her forcing her to lay down. “I’ll tell him your awake but just don’t do anything to hurt yourself alright” he tells her and she nods resting her head

————-

Armando's head shots up hearing his cell being banged by one of the prison guards' batons.

“Aretas, you have a visitor” the guard warns him going to the door of the room and leaving. A few seconds later Mike walks into the room and goes up to Armando’s cell. He stops looking at his son. “How are you doing?” Mike questions him while waiting for his answer. “Well paying my debt” Armando replies and then sighs not looking at his father. “It’s a big one”.

“Opportunity may have presented itself for you to pay down some of that debt. You interested?” Mike questions Armando. Armando just stares at his father for a few seconds. All he could think about was if he did this. He’ll get closer to getting out and seeing you. “I’m in” Armando replies, watching his father smile and nod.

Mike looks at his son and smiles “She’s doing great. The bullet missed her spine. She’s moving around but she misses you a lot. Always asks about you when I come back” he tells him and Armando smiles hearing that. He’s happy she’s doing alright. “When will she be able to visit?” He questions him. “I’m working on that. It’s taking time but I’m working on it. Everyone doesn’t want to take the chance of her bringing in something cause she is so close to you” Mike tells him and Armando's smile goes away and he nods understanding. “Tell her that I’m doing well”. Mike nods at this and leaves. Noticing how Armando wasn’t gonna open to him.

[yestrday]

YOYOYOYO

if it's possible to request 2 things from the humiliation prompt list, could I ask for "making them beg" and "forcing them to crawl" with either ayato or ajax .. OR ANOTHER GENSHIN MAN WHO HAS A BIT OF AN EGO!! u could literally pick whoever u want tbh I just need to see a genshin man with some kind of authority get knocked down a peg, bc im sick of them 😒

and if 2 prompts aren't possible then feel free to just pick one of the ones I listed, im happy with either and as long as u feel comfortable writing it!!

childe would definitely get on his knees without second though but ayato?? omg i havent thought of him begging till now &lt;3

part of an ongoing event!

╰┈➤ TARTAGLIA childe.

you don't know what you were thinking when volunteering to look after the newly imprisoned harbinger, but looking back on it... you probably weren't thinking at all.

in his cell, he has you pinned to the ground, grinning wildly at you as he overpowers you in a show of strength. he wants the map to the fortress that's just jutting out of your pocket, but like hell you were gonna give that to him. if he's smart enough to catch you offguard, he's smart enough to plot an escape. you weren't taking your chances.

he laughs in your ear, and you see that the sick bastard actually likes seeing you struggle against his grip. "oh come on, pretty, just hand the map over and all will be good and dandy. i'm not asking too much, am i?"

"you're asking too much," you growl back, and the little shit laughs louder. while he's distracted by his own amusement, you find moment of weakness and kick him in the shin, to which he collapses on top of you. you roll him over as he clenches the pained spot, and before he can react, he has a baton to his neck and a glaring guard in his face. "assaulting a guard can add to your sentence, inmate. you should've thought of that before attacking me."

he continues to grin at you, and you start to wonder if he's even listening. "well, if a longer sentence means getting to see that pretty face of yours, i'm not too opposed to it." he sighs dreamily as the baton digs further into his neck. "especially if pretty can actually beat me up."

your lips curl into a disgusted scowl. "they say that the eleventh harbinger was questionable, but i didn't think you'd be this depraved." you dig a heel into his gut and he chokes out a pained laugh. "luckily, the fortress of meropide seeks to reform all criminals, no matter how sinful they are. now—" you deliver a swift kick to his stomach, sending him rolling back. before he can even push himself up, you stomp on his back and he falls to the ground once more. "you will beg for reformation, for us to clean that tainted heart of yours, harbinger."

"beg?" childe's head is spinning, and his heart is beating so loud his ears might burst. he can feel the burn in his stomach, and the heavy pressure of your boot digging into his skull. he didn't know that being visionless could make him this weak, being beaten up by a mere guard. "oh.. heh, i could beg all you w-want and more, p... pretty."

as you stomp on him again, a slight moan comes from him as his cheek hits the metal again. or maybe he wanted this. to receive a beating from someone as pretty as you. "disgusting. beg properly, harbinger, and do it right."

fuck his spine was almost halving. "p-please, reform this harbinger..." his begging comes out broken and wheezing from the pain, but there's an alarmingly wide grin on his face as he does so. "make me... urk... make me clean... i'll do anything you ask. p... please!"

a startling silence, but judging from how you lift your boot from his back, you seem to approve. "hm. passable." you watch your newest prisoner collapsed on all fours, shuddering on the ground as he revels in the warm pain blooming through his body. "reformation starts now, inmate. let us work together to correct your errors."

╰┈➤ KAMISATO AYATO pillar of fortitude.

"surely you have something to say to me, hm, young master?" you ask languidly, sifting through the documents in your hand. you're lazily stretched out over his office chair, playing around with the official seal of his family, yet you sit like an emperor on their throne. you cock your head at the young master, looking as bored as ever. "if not, i might just report this to the raiden shogun herself."

ayato sits like a commoner before you, heels digging into his behind as he glares at the floor. your figure is a shadow against the elegantly painted washi paper, and with only the moon and a flickering candle for light, it seems like your piercing eyes are the only features he can make out. your military cap tilts with your face as you regard ayato with indifference.

"nothing to say?" you sigh and let the papers drop. these are sealed, important documents, but when one drifts in front of his face, it almost seems like mockery. "ugh, i have to write up a whole report now thanks to you."

"wait." ayato grits out, still boring holes into the wooden floor. "p-please. don't release this information to her majesty, please. ayaka and thoma... they don't deserve this." they were only doing what was right. to clean up the mess your raiden shogun made. "we can handle this in private, just... just not..."

you sigh again, and it makes him bristle. you're acting like this is just another day for you and not the near doom of the kamisatos. "you're making an awful lot of demands for someone who's kneeling." you grin at him, those teeth looking predatory as you study his red face. "haven't ya ever heard of... 'sealing the deal'?" you tap the armrest with a sharp nail. "come here."

ayato begins to stand, but freezes when you shoot him a dissatisfied glare. "aren't you making a request? people who beg don't stand— they crawl. now again—" you tap the wooden armrest again. "come."

he doesn't have to do this. he shouldn't be doing this. he is the master of the kamisato estate, and he has more dignity than being reduced to crawling on the floor. but that's exactly what he finds himself doing. dragging his loose yukata against the floor as he knees you, clenching his teeth as he avoids your leering gaze, he's painfully aware of how disappointing he must look like to his parents above. the cold night air hits his skin, and his cheeks burn bright when he realizes just how loose his yukata might be when the cold hits his pale chest.

"good." you hum, stroking his hair. he couldn't help the euphoric shudder when your fingers graze his ear. "now, it's time for me to hear you beg properly."