#these details are slowly getting more elaborate I’m sorry

[little-pondhead]

I love her a normal amount.

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (3) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 3.4k

In which you do your best to deal with your Daddy's mood swings.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You felt like you were seeing Rafe less and less as the next two weeks went on. He was stressed about what was going on with work. He often paced back and forth in front of you, ranting, although he was never specific about the details of what was going on. 

You noticed that he grabbed you tighter, pushed you harder into the mattress, and talked less during sex whenever something outside was affecting him. You were starting to accept it; it never hurt too much, and you’d be more scared if he weren’t interested in you in that way. If he didn’t want to be intimate with you, then there was a chance he wouldn’t want you anymore. 

As much as Rafe promised you this was permanent, you couldn’t fully believe him. He had done all of this just for you, so you had to be able to offer him something special in return. 

Like Rafe wanted, you established a routine. Every morning the birds would wake you up exactly at eight, and you’d make your bed which kept you from napping all day. Staying in your room was causing your imagination to stretch.  You found new ways to entertain yourself, including trying on all the clothes in your wardrobe and throwing elaborate tea parties with all your stuffed animals and dolls. 

One night that you thought would be like the last twelve nights, Rafe came to you after Lana had already brought you dinner. He wasn’t dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt but in sweatpants and a pullover. You were curled up on the window seat, drawing flowers in a notebook, when Rafe came over to join you. 

“Hi,” You spoke softly. He placed a warm hand on your knee, and you slowly closed your notebook. 

“Hi, baby,” There was an ease and calmness to his voice that made you believe he’d actually had a good day, “What are you working on? Show me.”

You sat up, leaning closer, as you handed him the notebook. You hid slightly behind your knees as Rafe began to flip through the pages. At this point, you’d covered half of the pages in your doodles, “Oh wow, these are really pretty, Bambi,” He smiled with his entire face, including his bright eyes, “We should hang some of these on the fridge.”

You felt a bit of relief, hearing that he liked him, “I have more. Way more. I’ve colored a lot of the coloring books.”

“Go get them, I’ll pick my favorites,” Excitedly, you got up from the window seat. When you set several full coloring books in his lap, Rafe’s lips parted in shock, “Okay, wow, I don’t think I realized how much coloring you’d been doing.”

“I think it’s fun,” You said. 

“Good, I want you to have fun,” Rafe nodded, “But have you worn down all your color pencils? How come you haven’t asked for more?”

You shrugged when Rafe gave you an inquisitive look, “I try to take care of the ones I have.”

“Would you even ask Daddy for more coloring books if you ran out of pages to color?”

“Maybe,” You spoke honestly. 

The idea of asking for more than what Rafe had already given you did make your heart race. Rafe shook his head at something, “Daddy will get you lots more art supplies. Maybe you could try painting?”

“We could paint together?” You perked up. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe assured you, “I’m really, really sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to. Needed to, really. It’s just … I’m working on a lot of things right now, you know?”

“I’ve been okay,” You said, “Lana has been kind to me.”

“Good, good, I want you to be happy here, you know? That’s why I want you comfortable asking for things,” You watched Rafe’s eyes wander towards the bookshelf, “Like your books. I never see you reading them. Do you not like them?”

“I do,” You said quickly.

Rafe started to stare deeply at you, “What-what is it?”

“I . . . “

“I can pick some different ones for you? What do you like?”

“I like it when you read to me, Daddy,” Rafe tilted his head and the mentioning of his nickname didn’t light up his features like usual, “It’s hard for me. I never needed to … do that.”

He paused, which made you think you’d done something wrong, “You’ve never needed to read?”

“I can do it,” You said, “It’s hard when they’re all together, and there’s so many… the words. I’m sorry you think I don’t like the books you picked. I really do. I will try harder–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe rushed to put the coloring books aside and grab ahold of your face, “I just didn’t know, that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”

It wasn’t something you’d ever felt embarrassed about, but now you couldn’t help but feel stupid. Deep down, you felt a guy like Rafe deserved someone better. He deserved someone smarter than you. 

You closed your eyes, wanting to hang your head, but Rafe said, “Look at me, hey,” Weakly, you did, “I’ve been thinking that you should spend more time with Lana instead of being cooped up in here. At least until I can take care of this … one problem I have. She’d be happy to have some company. And, if you want to learn, she could help you with your reading.”

“You don’t care?”

“Not at all, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you, sweet girl,” He said. Rafe leaned in to peck your nose before he brought your lips together. You melted into him, realizing then how much you missed him when he was gone, “You know what I was thinking?”

You stared back at Rafe, who had a mischievous look in his eye. 

“We should take the boat out.”

“Now? Where?” 

“Just on a short ride to get you some fresh air. It’ll be cold, so let’s find you some warmer clothes, yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question; Rafe was already making his way over to your wardrobe. You looked down at the small silk pajama set you were wearing. You’d seen all the boats out by the dock but hadn’t imagined that Rafe would take you out on one. “Lift your arms,” You did exactly as he said, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over your head. He also chose long pajama bottoms, helping you get into those, too, “You want to bring one of your stuffies?”

Your excitement mixed with your anxiety as you put on your slippers. It was a hard decision to make about which stuffed animal you wanted to bring, but you settled on Fin, your silvery-blue dolphin, “Excellent choice.”

Rafe grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs, “Do you think we’ll see a real dolphin?”

“Well, they tend to be more active during the day, and it’ll be dark soon … but maybe if you wish really, really hard.”

The air was much cooler outside than you expected, and you certainly didn’t expect it to feel so strange being in the fresh air. You turned in a circle just so you could take in the sky, the trees, the house, and everything around you. 

You followed a determined Rafe across the yard and towards the deck. He chose one of the smaller boats, although there was room for at least four more people. You yelped when Rafe grabbed you by your waist suddenly and lifted you inside. Another yelp escaped your lips as the boat rocked under the pressure of your weight, “You’re okay, don’t worry,” He didn’t have to tell you to take a seat or be still; you decided you wouldn’t move at all, “One . . . moment.”

You watched through the corner of your eyes as Rafe untied the roaps keeping the boat tethered to the dock. The boat rocked again as Rafe hopped inside, causing you to grip Fin in one hand and grip the side of the boat in the other. 

You sat in the seat right across from Rafe as the boat slowly pulled off towards deeper water. As the boat became more steady, you turned your head and watched Tannyhill get smaller and smaller. The orange and blue sky reflected off the water, creating an insanely beautiful view. You sailed towards the horizon, the son looking half submerged in the water, “How do you feel?” Rafe yelled over the sound of the motor, “Wanna go faster?”

You nodded, a smile growing on your face, “My little daredevil, huh?” You sat up on your knees, wanting to see more. You get a better look at Figure 8, seeing lots of huge houses along the beach, although none of them compare to Tannyhill. Rafe pointed out different landmarks for you, including the country club and a huge lighthouse out in the water. In your eyes, this night made every other night where you worried about your place with Rafe worth it. 

“Go ahead, you can give it a taste test,” Lana conceded, allowing you to dip your finger into the chocolate cake batter. A few days after your night out with Rafe, Lana was showing you how to make the perfect chocolate cake. You thought she might be exaggerating about how perfect it was until you were licking your finger. An excited moan left your mouth and you bounced on the balls of your feet, “It’s great, isn’t it? Espresso powder is the key.”

“It really is,” You agreed. 

“Now, wash your hands. It’s time to pour our batter.” 

The entire day Lana had told you exactly what to do and how to do it. You didn’t mind listening or following her directions as she usually spoke to you warmly. Besides that, you wanted to learn exactly how to take care of things around the house, knowing that Rafe would appreciate your help when Lana couldn’t be here. The two of you cleaned the entire downstairs, did several loads of laundry, washed the windows in the glass patio, and even had time for a reading lesson in the early morning. She informed you that she homeschooled her youngest son and that she would try to teach you in a similar way. 

As you washed your hands, you glanced out the side window towards the dock. You could see Rafe far out on the dock, standing with the same business associate who came to the house a few weeks ago. They weren’t alone like you were expecting; someone was on their knees a few feet ahead of them, their head slumped over. You squinted your eyes, trying to see more of them, although Rafe and his business associate shouting at each other blocked your view, “What are they doing out there? Who’s that?” Lana came over to where you were standing, peeking out just like you were. 

Whatever business Rafe was involved in, Lana didn’t seem to care for it, “Mr. Cameron and Barry, they’re always at each other’s throats,” She shook her head, “Come, dry your hands. The oven is heated.”

You did as she said, turning your head away. There were going to be several layers to your cake, meaning you had three pans to fill, and after that, you and Lana would make the icing. Just as your mind wandered back to Rafe, you heard him coming through the kitchen door. 

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pacing for a moment before his dark eyes landed on you, “Bambi, let’s … uhm, go upstairs,” His voice was shaky and deeper than normal, “Come here.”

“We’re-We’re just about to put the cake in the oven. It’s for tonight, and we’re going to make homemade icing too–”

“Now …please,” He said the last word like it was painful, “It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

No, no, no, a voice repeated in your head. 

“But Lana was going to teach me how to ice the cake, too and she —”

“Fine,” Rafe snapped, his hand slamming against the counter before he rolled his eyes, “Just stay here.” 

As Rafe stomped away, you knew you had something horribly wrong. You’d seen him in a similar mood before but he never directed any of his vitriol towards you before. Whatever had happened on the dock had clearly upset him. You really wanted to finish working with Lana. More than anything, you didn’t want to be locked in your room for another long period of time. 

After taking a breath, or attempting to take one, you turned to Lana, “I didn’t mean… I-I should go say sorry.”

“You might want to let him calm down a little bit, sweetheart,” You’d already made up your mind. You reached behind your neck to undo the top of your apron, “Turn around, let me help you. He’s not mad at you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know who he is,” She spoke simply, “Don’t take anything too personally with Mr. Cameron.”

“You can finish without me; I’m sorry, but thank you for today,” You said as you started to walk away. After you saw her nod, a sad smile on her face, you turned away and sped for the stairs. 

You approached Rafe’s bedroom moments later, hesitantly turning the knob, “Daddy?” You called, peeking inside. You called him again. He wasn’t in the main room but the shower was running in the bathroom, “Rafe?”

You jumped when he suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorframe, shirtless and his belt undone. This time, you notice his bruised hands and bloody knuckles. 

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, Daddy.”

“Get down on your knees,” He stared you down. When you tried to come closer, he said, “No, drop to your knees right there.”

You felt your knees brush against the bedroom rug, “Crawl to me.” 

If Rafe wanted you to feel even smaller, then his plan was successful. You did as he said, seeing no other option, and crawled towards him. You watched as he palmed himself over his briefs, and you could already feel him stretching you, pulling your hair, and leaving marks on your bottom. This wouldn’t last, you told yourself; he would be gentle with you another time. 

Your sage dress had ridden up your body, exposing your floral patterned white panties. 

“You’re gonna suck my cock and swallow all my cum. And then you’re gonna thank Daddy for letting you.”

You’d do exactly as your Daddy wanted, hoping he’d take your sore throat and tears as a sufficient apology. 

Once you were soundly asleep in his bed, Rafe slipped out. He had a huge, bloody problem waiting for him in the cabin of his boat. Luckily, JJ Maybank was still the degenerate he used to be, and no one except his Pogue girlfriend would come looking for him anytime, “Son of a bitch isn’t talking,” Barry grunted out, meeting Rafe at the beginning of the dock, “Knocked two of his bottom teeth out and he’s still not motivated.”

Rafe had done everything possible to limit any competition he might face in Kildare. All small-time dealers would be working for someone who worked for Rafe. This was meant to be Rafe’s island yet somehow, Maybank was getting supplies from the mainland and was stealing his customers. 

“We could take his girl.”

Rafe contemplated Barry’s question before shaking his head, “If she comes around trying to find him, we might have no choice. I’m sure that will motivate him.”

Rafe could see Barry’s eyes wandering to Kie. Part of him would love to see JJ squirm if they got their hands on her. You were the reason he didn’t think too long about that. Barry, on the other hand, Rafe would let him do whatever he wanted with Kie. In the end, Rafe wanted JJ to talk, to give up his sources, but he’d be just fine killing him. 

“I hope,” Barry crossed his arms, “Not exactly looking forward to dealing with the body.”

“We don’t have to deal with that shit anymore; I know who to pay to handle it,” Rafe said, “Speaking of, I think I-uh need some more security here. I want guards all around the perimeter. Because of the amount of merchandise and if we’re going to be taking captives, you know. I want this place to be a fortress.”

“Your merchandise, huh?” Barry flashed Rafe a knowing look, “You got any liquor in that big house?”

Rafe gestured his head toward the house, signaling to Barry to follow behind him. 

“If Kie doesn’t come for him and if he still has no information to offer us, we kill him. No more torture, no mess, one gunshot to the temple,” Rafe instructed, his mind racing with what their next moves should be. The more planning beforehand, the better, and the less likely it would come back to them, “That’ll send a message to the rest of the Pogues too. They work for me, or they work for no one.”

“And after you’ve cornered the market?”

“That’s just the start of everything else,” Rafe led Barry through the first floor, towards his office. Ward always used to keep his office stocked with liquor as it came in handy for important meanings. Rafe learned people will often let down their barriers and concede to more under the influence of alcohol. He opened the door for him, allowing him to enter. 

“Whoa,” Barry said, walking inside just as Rafe heard a soft gasp from a familiar voice. Eyebrows raised, Rafe entered behind him to find what had shocked him, “Is this the new Mrs. Cameron?”

With wide eyes, Rafe took you in. You were in the same clothes Rafe left you in, one of his white button-ups and your knee-high socks, “What are you doing down here?” You slowly stepped behind Rafe’s desk, and he could tell you were trying to hide yourself.

“I-I couldn’t find you.”

Rafe’s jaw jutted forward, his arms crossed, as he said, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Your lips parted to say something, but Barry interrupted, “C’mon, man, it’s not even midnight! Introduce me to your girl. We can all have a drink,” He grabbed ahold of Rafe’s shoulder. You would think Barry had one the lottery based on the look in his eyes. By complete accident, Barry had stumbled on Rafe’s biggest treasure, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“She doesn’t drink.”

 Rafe was frustrated, mostly because he should’ve been keeping closer track of you. He’d given you that necklace for a reason. A new idea crossed his mind, one he wasn’t expecting, and some of his anxiety eased. He was far from embarrassed of you, he’d chosen you for a reason, but part of Rafe wanted Barry to envy him at that moment. 

Rafe sighed, waving you closer to the two of them, “Bambi, this is Barry. Barry, this is Bambi,” Smoothly, Rafe grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you into him. 

“Hi,” You said shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

 When Barry held his hands out to you, your eyes darted towards Rafe as if to ask permission. Agreement crossed his face, and Rafe watched you shake his hand. Barry was fully taking you in, of course, but Rafe knew a handshake would be the extent of his closeness with you. 

“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful.”

“Chill out, dude. Sit down,” Rafe instructed Barry, pulling you along. 

Barry made himself comfortable on the leather couch and Rafe motioned you to sit across in one of the leather chairs. 

“How you liking Kildare?” 

“It’s really nice,” Rafe heard you respond as he poured two glasses of whiskey for him and Barry, “There’s so many big houses, and … it’s just really pretty.”

“You ain’t seen much then, have you?” Rafe handed Barry his glass, flashing a warning with his eyes, “All the girls where you’re from, they as pretty as you?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” You laughed nervously. 

Rafe placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him,  “Why don’t you go get Barry a slice of that chocolate cake you made?” 

Rafe assumed it would ease your nervousness if you could share what you made. “Okay, Daddy,” You smiled at both men, and both men watched you closely as you walked out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pretty and obedient,” Barry whistled, “I need to travel more.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support on the first two chapters BUT psa you will not be added to my taglist if you're not reblogging the fic and letting me know your thoughts! It is crazy to me that people will ask me to tag them in the next chapter when they have neither liked nor reblogged the fic. Constructive feedback is more encouraging than just commenting "PART 4" or "tag me in part 4" :)

PART 4

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lonelier in Misery

Part 2 of Lonely in Misery

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!paramedic!reader

Summary: After you first date with Tim, you decide to keep your relationship from Nolan and Bailey for as long as possible.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

A/N: Titles are hard sometimes. This is one of those times.

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

The morning after your first date with Tim, feigning your continued misery isn’t hard. You miss him already, even though it’s been less than twelve hours since he kissed you and turned your world on its axis. He changed everything, and you never want to go back to how it was before. Now your absent smile and downcast demeanor are because you miss Tim; you miss someone rather than not having anyone. It’s a nice change, but you’re still craving another kiss.

When you arrive at work, Bailey runs across the station to meet you. She pulls you into a tight hug, and you slowly wrap your arms around her in return.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I thought it would work out with Tim.”

“Oh,” you murmur as you realize she’s still making assumptions based on your text from last night. “Right.”

“Don’t take this as a sign or anything, though. I promise I will do better next time! Just tell me what you did and didn’t like.”

“Bailey, you don’t have to set me up again.”

“No, you need someone. I hate seeing you like this. Being lonely sucks, and with our job, we deserve to have a person to go home to.”

“I agree, but a blind date isn’t-“

“You have to give me another chance. Nolan has more friends, plenty that aren’t cops, so I can find you the right guy.”

Bailey turns when the battalion chief calls her name, and you’re left alone again. You’ll have to convince her not to set you up on another date later. The problem is that you can’t tell her why, not unless you want her to insert herself into your relationship with Tim. Bailey is great, she’s your best friend, but she meddles.

You sigh as you pull your phone out. Tim has responded to your good morning text, so you send a quick warning: Bailey wants to set me up on another date since last night ‘didn’t work out’

Tim answers quickly, and his message brings a smile to your face.

Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle all the dates from now on.

While you avoid answering Bailey’s questions, Tim is dealing with his own line of inquiries about the date last night.

“How did it go? You like her, right? I know you’ve met before,” Nolan asks quickly.

“It was fine,” Tim answers.

“Fine… Is that it? I don’t get more details?”

Tim shrugs and repeats, “It went fine.”

Nolan tosses his hands up in exasperation. Tim won’t elaborate, he already knows that, but he needs to know if he and Bailey were right about their idea that you and Tim would be perfect for one another.

“Sergeant Grey!” Nolan calls. “Bradford and I can deliver the safety brochures to the police station.”

“You want to do a rookie’s assignment for them?” Grey asks, his skepticism audible.

“Yes, sir.”

“Yeah. I know you’re just going to visit Bailey, though, you’re not smooth, Nolan.”

“Never expected to be. Thank you, sir!” Nolan turns to Tim to say, “Let’s go.”

“Why?” Tim asks.

“Because I want to hear from both of you. Fine isn’t good enough.”

Tim grumbles as he follows Nolan to the shop. “I’m driving,” he yells when he catches up.

You’re restocking an equipment kit near the open garage door when a police car parks outside. As you set your gear aside, you see Tim exit the driver’s seat. You smile at him, but he shakes his head just before you see Nolan on the other side. It’s not a friendly visit, then.

“Good morning,” Tim greets. “We are here to drop off these public safety cards.”

“Great. Thanks,” you reply as you take them.

Your fingers brush over Tim’s and you feel the same jolt as when he kissed you last night.

��Where’s Bailey?” Nolan asks.

“Kitchen, I think,” you answer.

He nods to thank you, then walks past the fire engines to find Bailey. You raise your brows and look at Tim, but he just sighs. It’s not far-fetched to assume Nolan gave him treatment similar to the one you got from Bailey.

“Alright,” Nolan calls. He returns with Bailey beside him, and you sigh with Tim this time. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

“What happened last night, Tim?” Bailey asks. “You get to the restaurant, and?”

“She’s not who I expected,” Tim answers. He glances at you quickly, and you immediately decide to play along.

“Exactly,” you agree. “Blind date usually implies that you don’t know the person. We’ve met before.”

“Okay, but there’s no animosity or anything. You get along,” Nolan argues. “So, why’d you leave just as sad as when you got there?”

“Because I was still lonely,” you answer.

It’s not a lie. Neither you nor Tim will lie, but you’re going to answer the questions without admitting that they were right. They’ll never let you live it down if they can take credit for your relationship with Tim.

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t enjoy yourselves,” Bailey says. “But your relationships are your decisions. And I already have another guy lined up that I want you to meet.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Tim winks at you before you speak. He told you not to worry about it, so you won’t.

“We need to get back to the station if you’re done with the interrogation,” Tim tells Nolan.

“Sure, yeah,” Nolan responds.

You wave discreetly as Tim leaves, and your internal countdown to when you’ll see him again resumes.

As you walk out of the fire station after your shift ends, your phone rings.

“Hi,” you answer.

“Hi,” Tim repeats. “Are you off?”

“I am. I’m leaving right now.”

“Then you should come over for dinner.”

“I’d love that.”

Tim texts you his address, and you smile for the entire trip to his house. When he opens the door and pulls you into a hug, you feel complete again.

“Whoa, it smells amazing in here. Are you cooking?” you ask.

“Maybe,” Tim answers. “That depends on if you have any stereotypical views that I can’t because I’m a man and a cop.”

“I think you can do everything and look good doing it,” you reply happily.

“Then, yes, I’m cooking. And thank you.”

You follow Tim into the kitchen and settle at his side as he finishes preparing the meal. Everything looks great, but you’d do just about anything as long as you were with Tim.

“I’m sorry if I pushed everything too far today. I know we don’t want them in our business, but if you want me to stop covering things up, I will,” Tim offers.

“You didn’t go too far. I thought it was kind of fun. Plus, I like being with you, even if we are lying to my best friend.”

“Lying,” Tim scoffs.

“By omission, yeah.”

Tim rolls his eyes but tugs you closer to kiss you. His hands rest on your cheeks and as you move with him, you know that it is impossible to feel sad or lonely around Tim Bradford.

Two days later, you find yourself pacing beside your ambulance. Tim texted this morning, just: I won’t answer for a while.

There hasn’t been anything on the news or the radio channels about big police operations, so you’re left to worry about him with nothing more to go on. You try to convince yourself that he’s just in a meeting or on patrol with someone, so he can’t use his phone, but then your mind wanders to a dangerous situation where using his phone could get him killed.

“Oh no,” Bailey murmurs. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” you answer, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. “I’m just stressing. For no reason.”

“Get your stuff.”

“What? Why?”

“You need a distraction, and John Nolan is my favorite distraction. Tag along with me?”

You consider it for a moment. If you stay here, you’ll just be worried and alone. “Yes, please,” you decide.

When Bailey parks at the Mid-Wilshire station, you follow her inside and force yourself not to check your phone again. Tim will reach out when he can. Someone calls your name, and both you and Bailey stop.

“Hi, Detective Lopez,” you greet when you see Angela.

She hugs you tightly as she says, “Stop, it’s Angela. Especially now that you’re dating my BFF.”

“What?” Bailey interrupts.

Angela’s eyes widen, and she whispers, “I’m so sorry. I thought everyone knew. He told me, so I just assumed.”

Bailey says your name and points at you, ready to accuse you of lying to her and keeping secrets. Before she can, Nolan yells, “Why?!” from somewhere else in the station.

A few seconds later, he walks into the bullpen with Tim following closely behind him. Tim is talking, sternly and meanly, based on his stance. Nolan sees you and Bailey and quickens his pace.

“Bailey,” he begins.

“I know!” she replies. “They’re liars.”

“Why would you lie about that?” Nolan asks.

Tim steps to your side as you answer, “Technically, we didn’t lie. We answered your questions.”

“You just didn’t ask the right questions,” Tim agrees. “Which is part of your job, Nolan.”

“No, no, no. Don’t make this about me,” Nolan argues.

“Wait, so then are you going out again?” Bailey asks.

“And did you actually consider that to be a date? Enjoy it and everything?” Nolan adds.

Tim takes your hand as they continue asking questions, and you wave kindly to Angela as he leads you away. You smile as you follow him blindly. Once he has you away from the bullpen and the endless questions, he stops and pulls you close.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “I’ve been worried.”

“I’m sorry. I got called into a meeting to consult on a UC operation. Everything is confidential, so I couldn’t have my phone on me.”

“I’m not mad. I feel much better now that I know you’re okay.”

“It’s Friday,” he reminds you. “We have another date tonight.”

You nod, and Tim moves his hands, one on your waist and one on your jaw. He dips his chin and kisses you in the empty hallway, and you wonder what did it feel like to be miserable again?

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Seventeen

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 4,562

Themes; isekai, eventual smut, slowburn, canon divergence

Rating; 18+ for swearing and eventual mature themes

Notes; Only update for this week! I decided that it's better to drop my updates down from multiple to just one per week– just until I get a few buffer chapters in-between where my chapters are here and what I'm currently writing!

Also Tumblr on mobile seems to really hate anything over 4k so I'm not sure what to do when it comes to posting longer chapters– but if I do, I probably won't be able to add itallics and bold, but I'm sure no one would mind if I didn't go through and add those little details.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! It's yet another memory one that will span over two chapters (including this one).

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Masterlist

“Y/n…Sweetie, wake up.” You hear a voice and a gentle hand shakes your shoulder. Your eyes slowly opened and your cheeks felt damp. Once your eyes are fully open, you wipe your face and rest a hand on your chest. It tightly grips the front of your dress as you struggle to breathe. Your gaze goes to Sylus with wide eyes and you look around, confused to see the interior of a car and not the beautiful lake you were just at. 

The only reminder of your dream laid In your hand…A gem, devoid of colour as if its power had been drained, was in your palm. Was this the aether core Xavier found? No…no way that would've followed you back.

“Where..?” You were still disoriented, trying to keep a grip on which reality was your own. Your hands were trembling.

“We’re back at the house, sweetie. Or did you forget where we were going?” Sylus's voice sounds soft. It sounds too kind, much sweeter than his usual tone with you. Were you somehow in a different kind of dream now? 

“No— I...” You hold your head in your shaking hands. “I had a dream...It..” You want to punch yourself in the chest– anything to try and fix the disorder nestled deep in your heart. 

“I know, you started crying so suddenly. I was almost scared.” Sylus seems rather calm as he speaks, not waiting for you to elaborate as he opens the car door, “I told you it would be happening more often. You just need to be prepared for it.” His hand reaches out for you as the cool breeze nips at your skin. 

“But I felt– Months passed, Sylus. Seasons changed and it’s only been an hour.” You stammer as you try to get out of the car, but your knees almost give out underneath you. 

Sylus lets out a sigh and picks you up bridal style. “Was it scary?’ He asks, softly, as he carries you inside. “No…just really sad,” You reply, resting your head on his chest, “And I feel even more tired than before…I felt like I haven’t slept at all…”

“It’s just the first of many,” He muses, not bothering to ask what it was about or explain how he knew so much as he enters your room, and lays you down on your bed. “I’m sorry there’s not much I can do for you,” He speaks in a low register as he takes your hair down from its up-do, running his fingers through the strands, before he gently removes your jewelry. “But I can sit right next to the bed if you want me to. You know I don’t sleep around this time.” 

You press your lips together in a thin line, before quickly nodding as you grab his hand, “Please?” 

Sylus doesn’t give you a response, but he keeps a tight hold on your hand while you slowly fall back asleep…

The next memory is more involved than the last. You’re not sure who this one is about just yet, but judging by the ghastly sight of bloated corpses and water steadily filling up a ship as a storm raged on, you can only assume it’s Rafayel’s.

From what you could see, it was a dark and stormy night on the high seas. Some of the ship’s crew were talking about a sacrifice that had gone missing and to let down the sails as the stormy sea was too strong from their ship. The large boat was rocking back and forth from the force of the waves, and you almost felt seasick.

You notice waterlogged bodies floating past you as you were hidden behind a wooden storage box. Then, suddenly, your arms are seized in a tight grip and you’re dragged to the edge of the deck. Your eyes widening as the sight of the dark, unforgiven see was all you could see below. “Now throw her overboard!”

What? You were the sacrifice!?

Amidst your surprise, you begin to hear a faint melody, a song sounding as if the sea itself were singing to you. Calling out to you, almost, and like an invisible hand, the melody calms down the raging whirls of the ocean and the winds die down.

“Fools…Any further and a storm would be the last thing on your minds.”

Rafayel?

Though you can’t ponder on your thoughts for too much longer as you’re tossed overboard. Your limbs spread out in a panic as you try to slow your descent into the depths. You can hear the emissaries cheering as you, their sacrifice who was raised for years just for this very reason, finally fulfilled your purpose.

A sinking sense of fear overwhelms your body and the salty ocean water drowns out your pleas and cries for help. Briny water engulfs your body and your eyes burn as you try to keep them open from under the crashing waves. You could’ve tried to hold your breath, but it was already too late. 

Your panic had caused you to take in gulps of water and you felt your vision fading. You could feel yourself slowly…and painfully suffocating. Before you lost consciousness, however, you felt something warm envelop you.

Whenever you resurfaced, you greedily gasped for air, coughing out salty water, and felt the cool rain hit your face. Then, you turn toward your savior but your pleasantries die on your lips as you meet his beautiful, otherworldly eyes. 

Those familiar, charming bluish-pink eyes.

“Were you abandoned?” He asks, holding an ornate flute as he seemingly stands on top of the now calm waves. The ethereal melody you heard earlier had since disappeared as he was no longer playing his flute.

“Save me…please.” Is all you can croak out and the purple haired man chuckles. He sits down on a piece of driftwood. 

Under the moonlit night sky, he looks at you, the scales on his neck emitting a faint glow. He’s lemurian?

“Did you ask for my assistance?” He asks, raising a brow as he rests his arm across his leg. Then, you take a moment to look at him, really look at him. 

He had paint-like markings on his face under his right eye, the paint marks were also along his shoulders and chest. Were they tribal markings? He was wearing gold jewelry, the bangles wrapped tightly around his biceps and wrists. A sheer, blue sash across his right shoulder seemed to be the only form of top he had on and his pants were more of a white and gold tunic.

He brings you back to the situation at hand by holding his hand out to you. That’s when you realize his nails were also painted black.

You reach out toward him but, when your hands touch, flames burst forth from his fingers. You let out a squeak of surprise and jerk your hand back, but he starts laughing, amused at his little joke. You, in turn, puff your cheeks out and grab his hand tightly.

Even if this was a memory from the past, it seems Rafayel still acts just the same. It almost makes you want to stay in this dream forever, having missed the man after not seeing him for some time.

The man makes a noise in the back of his throat as you squeeze his hand, “Release me.” The scales on his neck are raised ever so slightly like a cat’s bristling fur. “I said release me!” 

Another thought crosses your mind, an even older memory that a lemurian’s kiss can allow one to breathe underwater. This gives you an idea since you’re trapped in the ocean with no other way to survive, you decide to take your chances.

You suddenly reach forward to cup your hands on either side of his face, catching the man off guard, and kiss him. Your lips smash against his in a clumsy kiss, your teeth clinking together in your desperation for survival. 

The lemurian lets out a small gasp of surprise as you plead with him again to save you. Your vision becomes more blurry by the second, but you desperately try to hold his gaze.

After a long silence passes, his voice rings in your ears– low…soft…almost like he’s casting a spell to enthrall someone, “I will grant you deliverance and in exchange, offer yourself, your everything to me. Become my follower mortal.”

After this exchange, you assume you passed out. You hear children whispering about whether you’re alive or not. As the conversation turns toward the children wanting to use your possible dead body for dissections, you open your eyes. 

The first thing you notice is that you’re in a rather luxurious room. It’s completely covered in the colour blue. From the drapes across the windows to the bedsheets, to the walls. 

The children are, understandably, surprised that you woke up in the middle of their conversation. “Where am I?” You ask, slowly sitting up, “Am I below the waves?” You realize you’re probably asking too many questions and bring your hand up to rub your temples. “Keep your distance– she bites.”

You knew that sassy demeanor like the back of your hand. You puff your cheeks out, annoyed that he had to scare those poor children with nonsense. 

Rafayel stood by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and, as you took a moment to take him in during the daytime, you realized he was quite attractive. He was always attractive, but in his lemurian garb, he was all the more so.

Though, you do notice that his mouth is swollen and there seems to be a wound on his lips.

Oh, did you…

Once he meets your gaze, he glares at you. “Uhm...where am I?” You finally ask after a few moments of silence.

“A single glance would reveal that you’re in Lemuria. Treat her wounds and give her clean clothes. I’ll inform Elder Amund that we’ve found my devout follower.” He says and you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. “Uhm, you’re my savior right? I should express my gratitude—”

Though, he leaves before you can even finish your sentence. 

Maybe…You should go back to the real world after all. You miss Rafayel. 

A young girl with beautifully braided blue hair pops up from her hiding spot and excitedly sits on the edge of the bed, “Worry not! When Rafayel brought you back, it seemed you’d been vomiting bubbles with the crabs for a fortnight.”

Then she continued, “My name is Algie and he’s Konche. You’re the first live human we’ve met! Well...There are ones who swam along the currents, but none of them could talk like you.” 

The blue haired boy next to her scolds her, “You’re scaring her, sister. Look, her hands are shaking like a shrimp seeing a whale for the first time!” 

“My apologies, I didn’t mean it!” Algie quickly clasps her hands together apologetically. “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it but…May I ask why you brought me here?” You ask, head slightly tilted to the side.

“You’ll know when you visit the temple.” Algie says, “It’s a very, veerrry long tale. I’ll tell you on the way!” 

She said that in the Deep Sea lies the forgotten kingdom of Lemuria and that the God of the Sea lives there. He protects whatever the briny sea touches and his followers include not just denizens of the ocean, but also humans. His most devout followers must gift him a heart so he has the strength to protect Lemuria and becomes the god recognized by the entire ocean.

Hmm…Rafayel did say ‘we found my devout follower’. Does that mean he wants your heart? And not in the romantic way??

It’s said that the Sea God of this generation was born in flames as dusk turned to dawn and only he can use fire.

Huh, Rafayel did use fire earlier…

In the Tome of the Sea god, it’s stated that in Whalefall City’s temple lies a great flame that has burned for thousands of years and that if this fire were to ever go out, then Lemuria shall fall into a deep slumber for centuries.

So…to keep the flame alive, the Sea God requires a certain human follower. It cannot be a lemurian, it must be a human because they are some of the most selfish, greediest creatures so when they offer their hearts, love, or even their lives, it’s considered the most precious form of worship. This Tome also confirms that Rafayel will be the last God of the Sea.

Once in the temple with Rafayel, you gaze upon the fire in the middle of the room. It almost resembles a sun about to go out.

“She’s most suited to be the one.” You hear Rafayel say and you really hope he doesn’t mean to toss you into the fire as a sacrifice. “Her?” You hear an older voice from across the room.

A man in a robe, holding a staff, questions, “She is the human your Quintessence has decided on?”

“‘Twas more of fate’s whimsy. I wandered about on the earth and became her cushion when she fell.” Rafayel speaks as if you were a stray animal that he had brought home out of the kindness of his heart. 

“For now, I shall forget that your Quintessence snuck out and burned the guard’s hair. I must ask again, is she truly to be the human your Quintessence is bound to?” 

“As long as the Sea God’s ceremony is assured, I’ll make her my follower.” Is all Rafayel says in response before he goes back to being the sassy Rafayel you truly know, “However, we should remove all of her teeth and nails. I worry she’d bite and scratch us if given the opportunity.”

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You finally manage to get a sentence out. Amund sighs, “Once a lemurian is bound to someone, it’s impossible to go against their wishes. She will have the power to command your Quintessence. When the two of you barely know each other, is that something worth giving?”

The light flickers on Rafayel’s face and he lowers his head to ruminate about his answer. Then, the Elder leaves so you and Rafayel are alone.

“So…if you’ve yet to decide, can I be set free? I promise I won’t speak of this to anyone.” Though you try your luck, Rafayel continues to stand there. “The day has dragged on long enough. I’m tired.” He sighs, finding a comfortable spot on the floor to sit down. 

“What’re you doing?” You question, still standing up. “Sleeping.” He answers simply. “Why??” You are appalled but Rafayel continues, “Wake me before nightfall.”

 “You—” 

He ignores you, leaning his back against a marble pillar as he closes his eyes. The temple is heavily guarded, so all you can do is sit in a corner and ponder how you were going to escape. Though your thoughts are regularly interrupted by Rafayel’s breathing and after an hour of it, you’re fed up by it. “Rafayel! Ra-fay-el!” You try to wake him up, hands on your hips. Though, he doesn’t react. 

A small blue fish suddenly appears and begins swimming around his shoulders.

“Oh– where did you come from? You’re so cute...” You muse, reaching a finger out to poke the fish with a small smile on your lips. “Do you know the way out, Oh little fish?” The fish swims in a circle and settles on your finger as you softly giggle at it. “Do you understand me?” You softly ask the fish, completely endeared with it, “Could you show me a way out?” 

Flicking its translucent tail, the fish swims to the stained-glass window behind the alcove...

“Half a day has disappeared like sea foam,” You sigh, walking through the beautiful hallway of the temple, “Why have we returned to these crossroads?” A pout dances across your lips, “Do you lack a sense of direction or do all fish have terrible memory?” 

Twirling its tail, the fish suddenly swims into a crowd and leaves you behind. “Where–” You sigh, shaking your head, “I can’t believe I’m trying to talk to a fish.” The fish finally leads you to a coral reef and goes into a small hole in the city’s walls.

“Do I have to swim through that?” You question and the fish spits bubbles at you, almost as if trying to communicate. “I’m coming. I'm coming.” You sigh, swimming through the narrow passageway until you’re on a beach alcove.

You dust the sand off of your knees in triumph. “I’ve definitely got to think of a way to express my gratitude to the fishies…I could possibly feed them during the Sea God’s ceremony,” You murmur to yourself.

“Was it fun to explore Lemuria?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Rafayel’s voice. “Rafayel!?”

“There is no need to shout my name.” He says behind a silk curtain, before he steps out to face you. 

He lifts his finger and the little fish swims around it, then transforms into a blue scale that lands in his palm. The fish was his own creation!? 

“You planned this?” You groan. “‘Twas a test for you. Elder Amund was right. Human promises are nothing but meaningless words.” “Huh– When did I make a vow to you??” You were a bit exasperated.

“I told you to wake me before nightfall, didn’t I?” Rafayel crosses his arms over his chest and then yawns, seemingly not upset in the slightest. “Besides, when I saved you from the ocean’s clutches, we made an oath. Did you forget?”

“That…counted? Look, you’re the sea god, respectful and awe-inspiring. Can’t you consider my rescue an act of kindness and let me go?” You rub the back of your neck as you look away from the man.

“I am not a God who answers every whim. The ceremony is to take place in a month and, as you’re aware, ceremonies always need–” He rests his chin in his hand as he narrows his eyes, filling you with a sense of dread.

“...Followers right? There are plenty on land. You know? The ones who wear robes and pray to you every day. They’re more devout than me.” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear him say the word ‘sacrifices’.

“Alright…Then, return to me your life.” He says, one hand on his hip. His other hand reaches out toward you as if grabbing an invisible rope that’s tied tightly around your neck. Though you're unsure of what he’s doing, suddenly you can’t breathe. 

You place a hand over your chest, doubling over for a moment as you reach toward your throat and cough. Water enters your nose and throat. Did he…take away your ability to breathe underwater? “Wait, wait!” You panic, air bubbles escaping your mouth as you try to speak, “I’ll do anything you ask!” 

Suddenly, a grin spreads across Rafayel’s lips and he loosens his hold. You find yourself able to breathe again. “‘Tis not worship I desire. From the very depths of your soul, I seek only the purest devotion.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“The tides ebb and flow and with every setting sun is a moon rising. ‘Till time’s end, I should occupy your every thought. You must believe in me alone.” Rafayel says as he walks closer to you and your eyes widen a bit.

Okay, that’s hot—

“You mean I…” You trail off and the tips of your ear turn a pretty shade of pink. “Think of it from another perspective,” He pokes your chest, specifically where your heart lies. He acts as if he’s stating a truth, “Thou must find a means by which thy heart becomes smitten with me.”

‘Find someone who will kiss you, even if you do not give them the world. Love a soul that is like your own, that which compliments you. Love and death are the most important things in life. Death is a matter of time, so love with all your heart can muster.’

- Lemuria: Tome of the Sea God, Chapter 3  

The two of you ended up sneaking to the top of the temple’s spire to watch the sunset. After a few days, you had grown used to the Lemurian’s snarky demeanor. You had also learned a bit more about him, like how he doesn’t like people touching him but is fine with you gently holding his hand.

You recall Amund saying that once the Sea God is bound to a person, they’ll do anything they command so as Rafayel sits down in the shade to nap, you decide to bother him for a bit. His eyes are closed with his arms crossed over his chest, so you reach your hand out to grab his.

“Make some flames for me,” You ask. Rafayel lifts his fingers up before curling them back around yours, but doesn’t say a word.

“Hmm...I didn’t work at all,” You murmur with a pout. “Don’t waste your time.” He lazily opens his eyes. “One should practice silence when watching the sunset.” He drops your hand, resting his arm on his propped up knee. 

“Do you want to see the real sun, Rafayel?”

“I do not.” He simply says and the blue fish from earlier reappears. “You wanted to sneak onto the beach the day we met,” You say as the fish swirls around his palm.

“Your tongue barely moved when we first met. Back then you were rather…” He trails off, bringing his hand up to his mouth to tap his lips.

A crimson red blush appears on his ear tips before spreading across his cheeks. His eyes widen as he catches your gaze and he quickly looks away.

“This side of you is much more to my liking.” He finally finishes his sentence. 

You tap his shoulder, “Hey, so on the surface we have a Sea God ceremony too. We play wonderful songs on lyres and...”

“Were the surface world as lovely as you claimed, you’d be elsewhere,” He glances toward you before looking back up at the light in the distance. 

“There are evil people on the surface! Once they learnt you were Lemurian, your tears that turn into pearls would be harvested day after day endlessly.” You try to spook him, though deep down you knew there would actually be humans as evil as that. Rafayel crosses his arms over his chest as he shakes his head, “If you were to persuade me to bring you to the beach, you’ll run away.” 

Though after a few moments of silence, Rafayel leans back against the marble column behind him. “Is the surface world’s sunset different from the one in the ocean?”

“Honestly...my memory of it is hazy…” You trail off as he closes his eyes and you take your chance to sit closer to him.  Your head slowly drifts down to rest against the column as well– close to him but not touching him since you recall him saying he doesn’t like to be touched.

“You take me to see the sun and I’ll take you to see the festival...What do you think?” You ask as you look up at him, drinking every detail of his face. Though, as silence fills the room, you realize Rafayel had most likely fallen asleep. The tranquil nature of the situation also somehow makes you sleepy as well and your head leans against his shoulder, almost close enough to touch his head. 

Though, you’re hesitant to fully lean against his shoulder. Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer and hear Rafayel tiredly go, “Mmhm.” almost as if saying you’re okay to lean on him. You lift your gaze to look up at his face, worried he was awake, but all you see is his closed eyes. His face way too close to yours, so you instead close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as you join him in sleep…

After a few days, Rafayel decides to go to the beach with you to watch his own celebration first hand. You tell him of how the emissaries on land had adopted you and raised you as a follower of the sea god, only to tell you that you were a sacrifice years later.

You talk of how you wouldn’t have been able to escape because of the island’s size. It was nice to be able to actually talk with someone about your situation for once.

Then, you both enter the festival with driftwood masks that Rafayel made and you overhear a storyteller.

“Unable to break his vow with the girl and his own burning passion, the God of the Sea left the ocean and lived happily ever after with his beloved...”

The children talk amongst themselves after the puppet show. “But Lemuria is centered around bonds. Without it, the Sea God won’t remember or obey her!” A little girl says, clearly upset over the ending.

“What are you talking about? The God of the Sea will find his beloved and live happily ever after,” The little boy next to her sighs, not understanding her. 

The young girl lets out a huff of annoyance before tugging at your sleeve as she looks up at you, “What do you think, Miss? Will the Sea God be with her because he loves her or because of their vow?” “Uh...” You glance over at Rafayel before clearing your throat, “All of those legends of Lemuria are just made-up nonsense…”

Though, you seem to have made the wrong choice as the children start crying. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t...” You panic, not used to being around children enough to deal with the situation.

“What about you, Sir? Does Lemuria exist? Would the Sea God gift his heart to a human?” The girl quickly turns to Rafayel for an answer.

The man in question, the Sea God himself, rests his chin on his hand before nodding, “He would. Lemuria is my homeland, so that is how I know.”

Should...he be saying that? You tried to cover his mouth with your hands, but he pushed you away.

“What are Lemurians like?” She asked, excitedly.

“Hmm…Their tears turn into glimmering pearls, and their voices bring dreams of wonder. Their blood can make one live forever or even resurrect the dead.” You really don’t think Rafayel should be saying this but the girl quickly sighs, “I already knew that.”

“Lemurians don’t fall in love with people they’re bound to. ‘Tis a human fantasy.” Rafayel says with a shrug and you can’t help but frown.

“What else?” The little girl jumps up and down.

“Are you that curious?” Rafayel teases with a smile ghosting across his lips. It seems like the Sea God adores children– how cute.

Though, you could only faintly hear the conversation from afar, having walked away after Rafayel said Lemurians don’t fall in love with the humans they’re bound to.

Hmph, you’d just drink your sorrows away with some pomegranate wine.

You take a sip of the wine, being distracted by all of the lights and stalls like an excited little puppy.

Suddenly, the girl walks up to you and tugs on your sleeve again. “Miss! Your friend said that if you don’t return soon, he won’t keep waiting.”

Also, woah! I did not expect my bad weather drabbles to blow up like they did! Does that mean yall want to see more drabbles in the future?

If yall have any ideas for some, I'd love to, at least, try them out! Because I really didn't expect so many people to actually like it. I kept checking my Tumblr and being like "woah 35 notifs???" And then I'd check again and "WAIT, there's 25 more???" So, I'd love to keep doing them. They'd be good to post in-between my ToF schedule!

Hope yall enjoyed this chapter! I'm hoping it still makes sense that the reader can't fully control their body during these memories...I'm not really sure how to convey that tbh.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

[foreverisntenough]

-YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestions, smut love bombing, little sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 17 - ‘You’re Mine’

Trent slowly opened his eyes, waking up, he grabbed for his phone and winced at the bright light in the dark room. He had heard it vibrating on the bedside table but hadn’t had the energy or interest to look until now. You were still passed out nestled on his chest. He smiled, inspecting the little details of your face before turning his attention back to his phone. His brows furrowed at a group chat with his manager and brother blowing up. He had 50+ text messages. Since early hours they had been talking and sending links. He scrolled in momentary ignorance up to where the conversation started this morning, clicking the first link sent curious seeing his name included in the headline’s blurb.

“What the ..” he spoke at a normal voice that trailed into a whisper... “fuck” as you stirred.

“T?” You cooed, picking your head slightly, wiggling a little on top of him.

“Shhhh... Baby, go back to sleep, yeah?” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You couldn’t fight the sleep plaguing you, a headache hit you almost immediately so you rested your cheek back against his bare chest.

The Daily Mail headlines felt almost fake…. Trent squinted wondering if this was an elaborate joke. He couldn’t believe it.

‘Not So Secret? Alexander-Arnold confirms long term relationship with mystery woman’

‘Packing on the PDA; Liverpool fullback gets handsy with woman on a night out in Manchester’

‘Meet Mrs. Merseyside; Liverpool’s Trent Alexander- Arnold shows off his missus on a night out.’

That one seemed to stick. People ran with the Mrs. Merseyside headline. Photos of you last night were plastered across the internet; holding hands into the restaurant, a blurry photo of you kissing at the dinner table, hooking up in the car, god so fucking many of that kiss in the car, you pouring tequila down his throat, your whole night was chronicled. Why the fuck is this being published? You two went out all the time before this, but multiple articles, major news outlets, social media a buzz, it seemed like a lot. Trent’s head started to hurt now. He picked up his arm off you to rub over his eyes trying to calm down. His movement caused you to wake. You slowly began pressing kisses all over his chest. You moved deliberately, hands running over his skin. Humming. Trent got a little sidetracked for the moment, his hand coming to stroke your face but when your hand slid over his abs and down into the waistband of his boxers he shut his eyes tight at the amount of stuff going on and he didn’t think messing around right now would be a good idea.

“Nah, nah. Please baby, not right now” He cooed trying to be nice, mind racing thinking of trying to explain the news to you when he couldn’t even comprehend what was happening.

“Wait, what?” Your head sprung up looking at him confused. It was rare for Trent to refuse you. You weren’t even trying to have sex. You just wanted to be closer to him.

“I’m sorry..sorry..” he shook his head overwhelmed. “Just not right this second pretty girl, okay?” He felt bad he could see you were confused but your head hurt too much to think right now so you laid back down in a huff and cuddled him a little before starting to draw over his chest with your nail. Trent kept reading on his phone frivolously, one article breaking down when you first appeared in Liverpool, another saying you were a one night stand, an instagram post found the price of the clothing items you were wearing, it was all doing his head in. He put his phone down leaning his head further back into his pillow. His arms squeezed you a little tighter before releasing and dozing off holding you trying to escape this morning.

Trent had fallen asleep when you heard the doorbell ring. You were confused and ignored it, continuing on with your important task of spelling your name, little hearts, and I love yous over his chest with your nail still. The bell rang again so you slipped off of Trent and the bed. You sleepily fumbled around the room looking for your panties. You pulled one of Trent’s shirts over your head as you made your way downstairs. You yawned, squinting at the bright sun coming into the house, you went to grab at the handle of the front door when it began to unlock and open. You pulled as they pushed it open.

“Where’s Trent?” Tyler pushed past you in the doorway. He had a key and he didn’t feel like waiting for your hungover ass to let him in any longer.

“What?” Running your hands over your eyes. He turned back towards you giving you a quick hug like he had forgotten walking in before he proceeded to let himself further inside, going to the kitchen.

“You just woke up I’m assuming?” He turned back to you, opening your fridge.

“Ty… I definitely didn't purposely come down looking like this.” You giggled half asleep pulling at Trent’s t-shirt from last night. “By all means, have what you want!” You joked as he poked around.

“You haven’t talked to him today?” He asked, head still in the refrigerator.

“Erm… no?” You were utterly confused and his panicked state had your head hurting again.

“Can you go get him, he has to get up. It’s… it’s time sensitive, yeah?” He asked nicely, finally turning around to face you. You said okay and left the room but you always worried when Trent and Tyler needed to have impromptu meetings. Usually, something was wrong or Trent had forgotten about something else. It all stressed you out. A part of you always selfishly feared that the ‘something’ would shake up your life with Trent. Unbeknownst to you, this one just might.

Tyler didn’t want to be the one to show you the news. He figured Trent should. You were a little sensitive about what other people said online and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He’d leave the hard task to his brother.

When you pulled Trent downstairs, it was a little awkward because he didn’t want to tell you either. You more than likely had to be included in some part of the discussion but the thought of stressing you out over something so ridiculous upset him.

“What’s happening?” You cooed, pressing a kiss into his neck as he wrapped his arms from behind around your shoulders in front of you.

“It’s fine, yeah? Just have to do this with Tyler. Sort some things out.” He cooed whispering in your ear, placing a kiss over it when he stopped.

Tyler had moved to the couch, Trent sat down on the other side, you stood awkwardly unable to move paralyzed by the possibilities. You suddenly felt sick and not from the alcohol that was seeping out of your pores now from last night. God, you needed to shower.

The boys explained the media frenzy occurring and you stood there in front of them. Shocked. Trent played with your limp fingers hanging at your side when you finally started coming back from the sudden drop in blood flow in your body. They showed you what had come out, scrolling quickly sparring you in the finer details, the comments you would inevitably read. Tyler called Trent’s manager and put it on speaker. He laughed when he greeted the boys so it lightened the heavy weight pulling on your heart at the moment that they were able to feel so relaxed with this going on.

“Well, there’s nothing… What am I meant to say? I don’t have to say shit to them…” Trent stumbled over his thoughts still tired, a little annoyed this was happening.

“It’s a ‘no comment’ situation, we knew this would happen. We just have to kill the more cynical narratives being put out there.” He paused, blowing some air out of his mouth. “The ‘Trent is a piece of shit, he’s a womanizer, drunk, throwing his career away,’ the whole lot and then obviously the Y/N specific stuff.” Tyler spoke more composed, seeming to have some sort of plan in place, prepared for this which didn’t surprise you but the ‘Y/N specific stuff’ comment caught you off guard. Trent hummed at it with some sort of agreement or remembrance like this was done before. You were out of the loop.

“It’s great you have to do press before the fixture this weekend.” Trent’s manager laughed sarcastically.

“Oh fuck” Trent said dropping his head in his hands. “Nah, honestly. Why do they even carreee” he groaned, falling back into the couch. The boys kept discussing more logistical things; statements, image rights, contacting the club.

“Can I go shower or do you need me?” You whispered pulling at Trent’s arm.

“You’re fine, baby. Come back down when you're done.” He kissed your temple. You got up and Trent mouthed where you were going to Tyler not to interrupt his sentence but to still fill him in. When you went to turn the water on in the bathroom you felt like you had been slapped in the face with the memory of your and Trent’s words in bed last night.

“Holy fuck” you expressed out loud. You turned the water a little colder to try to forget it, reset, there was too much going on, your head was pounding. You stood under the shower head and felt really naked. Obviously. But you felt naked that so many people had seen you in compromising positions, had opinions about you, a million questions blooming. The water droplets raced down your chest as you looked down, each one running over your skin with a thought.

‘He’s such a fuck boy and no one calls him out… the tequila photo, what a slag!’

‘What’s this girls name? Need to stalk immediately.’

‘How did this all go on and we had no idea. So confused.’

‘So obvious she’s in it for the money’

‘Where do these players even find girls like this?’

When you eventually got yourself pulled together you came downstairs going to the kitchen to get water first while you tried to listen to where the conversation had progressed to. You needed to overhear what was being said before you went back not wanting to get involved.

It was all fine. A little invasive? Definitely, but it was the life he chose and you in turn were now choosing. Nothing you could do. You figured it was okay to go back at this stage so you quietly crept back into the living room, not saying a word. You tucked yourself on the couch in between Trent’s legs leaning back on his chest. He engulfed you feeling your warm skin against his. It wasn’t a big deal. People could say what they wanted. It wasn’t going to change the way you felt about each other. It didn’t affect his performance capabilities. It bothered you for sure when people made incorrect or negative assumptions but that’s what was going to happen. Tyler gave you a smile as he continued speaking, reassuring your thoughts that this was ultimately fine, just a little uncomfortable as you began to zone out, the boys voices fading to murmurs.

“Baby?” Trent cooed his cheek coming to press against yours. “Hmm?” He questioned you but you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Sorry?” You shook your head trying to catch up.

“Did you want to release anything?” Tyler asked, leaning towards you a little.

“Release what?” This was all foreign for you to begin with so being asked to do things like this was over your head. Trent’s manager laughed a little.

“Like… Do you want to come out and say something, correct anyone, come out I guess to the public, information maybe, whatever you want?” Trent translated softly as his hands ran up and down your thighs.

“Oh… do you want that?” you turned to ask him but his face was so close to yours already you couldn’t really see him.

“Baby, that’s for you to decide this time. It’s your decision.” He pressed his lips to your cheek trying to be gentle but also explain that you, specifically, had to answer.

“Erm.. no.” You placed your hand over Trent’s. “I don’t think so, they can talk. It’s not like I want to ‘hide’ necessarily” you air quoted the word leaning forward to create space between you and Trent to look back and see his reaction. “but… it’s not really for strangers is it? I don’t have to, right?”

“No, you're fine not saying anything.” Tyler understood your reasoning, so did Trent. They assumed that’d be your response but wanted to give you the space to choose otherwise.

“Can I keep my instagram?” You interrupted the conversation that had carried on.

“Yeah, course. It’s fine.” Trent kissed one cheek again. It was sweet but you looked at Tyler for his answer. Trent said yes to everything you asked, it didn’t carry the same weight right now. Tyler nodded. “Told you so” Trent kissed you again. You had your same Instagram still. You had about 5,000 followers. It was small. It was harmless. There were no feed posts with Trent too obviously in them. You’d post stories with him, your friends and family, people you actually knew followed you, you could easily deduce that you were seeing him but there wasn’t really an easy paper trail to find or get to the account. You didn’t care anyhow, it was public. You wanted to ask though because it felt relevant and it was also your way of keeping some sliver of your normal life but you guess things changed slightly when the comments under your posts had verified blue check marks but other than that it was the same.

You leaned back again to cuddle into Trent’s chest and mentally checked out of the conversation now that your decision was made and your question answered. You would probably barade Trent with more questions later but right now… this was fine. You scrolled aimlessly on Trent’s phone looking at a folder of images from a gossip agency that sold photos from the night out.

“This one’s kind of cute.” You beamed nuzzling your head into his neck grabbing his attention.

“Yeah, baby.” He just yessed you. Tyler was less agreeable.

“Okay, no. We’re not pushing this.” He glared at you to basically shut up but the look still had a little love in it, relieved you weren't on the couch balling your eyes out right now.

You had zoned out again once you got bored of inspecting the photos. This was all a little nuts. It was the first time that people were writing full length articles about you. They didn’t even have your name and they had pulled all this crazy information out of thin air. It made you a little sick being so vulnerable.

The harsh slap of your thoughts you felt before your shower came crashing back. Trent’s hands were on your stomach and it had your brain going fuzzy and not in the way you thought it would. Your chest was warm. You could only imagine the onslaught of articles that would appear when you got pregnant. Jesus, did you want that? ‘When’ you get pregnant like it was set in stone. You rolled your eyes at the self inflicted chaos ensuing in your head.

The call was slowing down. They had kind of pieced together this idea that the England international team was released for the fast approaching Euros. When news sources were gathering images to use in the coverage the latest uploads from paparazzi cameras last night appeared. It was how the site you had been browsing worked. You could search for images taken by the agency and news outlets able to pay for them after the fact. There was a lot of debate about who made the team though, Trent, ever the hot topic, so there was growing interest and searches of his name and in turn that had all shifted to you.

‘This isn’t news… catch up. She’s been around the team for ages’

‘This woman is at every game of his, obviously a long term thing’

‘Can’t wait to see is she goes the the Euros’

‘100% a one night stand, she’s holding on to him for dear life’

‘How do we know nothing about this girl like TAA lets us in brother’

You saw one comment and laughed… showing the phone screen to Trent. It was a lyric from the ‘Brum Boy or Scouser’ song that seemed to ever haunt you.

‘Got there girls acting naughty, one night stand and she still tryna call me lol’

You giggled so Trent did too, more at your little laugh than the actual comment. He still wasn’t sold on the song but the memory of New York years ago made him happy.

“Alright that’s enough. You two are fine?” Tyler asked, standing up. He didn’t need to be annoyed with you two cuddling on the couch while he tried to iron out remaining bits of the situation you didn’t have a say in.

“All good bro. Thank you.” Trent said fist bumping his brother, he was also genuinely thankful for how Tyler handled these things.

The Euro’s were rapidly approaching, Trent having to leave for England training soon, his days busy with workouts and media. Your days blurred directly after the articles came out and him not being around as much didn’t help. There was a lot of focus and attention on you and it caused you to disconnect. You were being papped so often around the city. Articles continued to come out. You had gone to get food with Marcel one day and it resulted in another media onslaught. You wore a pair of shorts and a t-shirt of Trent’s. The actual media coverage was pointless, the frenzy really ensued in the comments when people noticed bruises and love bites on the side of your neck and once to your delight now your embarrassment, on your inner thighs. People had a field day dissecting your sex life. You didn’t want to be on your phone anymore. It had become too much, you weren’t used to this. Sure, some people's interest was sweet and thought more positively of you but an overwhelming amount was just criticism and hate. You hadn’t even responded to any of your friends or families texts in days. To be honest, you didn’t even know where your phone was.

“Ignoring me, huh?” Trent said, waking into the kitchen one late morning. He had a day off and given the recent fixation on you, you two opted to just stay home.

“What?” You looked up from the now cold cup of tea you were swirling a spoon in. You didn’t realize you had been doing that since it was hot.

“I texted you asking for water, baby” he kissed your temple walking past you to grab one.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry T, I would've gotten you one. I don't have my phone.” Your eyes pooled like a puppy looking at him actually feeling bad.

“I know, I found it” Holding it up in front of you before he pressed another kiss to your temple standing behind you caging your body against the counter, his chest pressed to your back. “Okay?” He rested his chin on your shoulder worried after seeing you isolate. He didn’t want to bother you, understanding this had been a lot to process, but he had been busy and he missed you. He didn’t accept your dismissal and definitely didn’t fall for your lies so he made you come with him back to the cinema room to spend some time together.

You laid in the dark room on his chest in a little bra top and biker shorts. Your one leg draped over his hips, Trent was just in a pair of sweats, his hands caressing your exposed skin on your back and shoulders. Your hands traced shapes mindlessly over him as you both stared at a football game, quiet. Your heart hurt a little missing him even though he was under you. You wanted him to pay attention to you. You slid your hand down his face and pulled his pouty bottom lip out with your thumb, exposing his pretty teeth, he was unphased, letting you manipulate him. You let his lip go and nuzzled your face into his neck. You left nothing but soft kisses and nibbles on his neck, working up to his jaw and back down his neck. Trent sighed in contentment with your lips on him, shutting his eyes disinterested in the match now.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” He asked, unable to ignore your touches knowing you wanted attention. He didn’t open his eyes though. He just slipped his hands from your lower back to knead your disappointedly currently covered ass.

“I have a question” you cooed with a little giggle. Trent’s heart started beating faster, well aware that neither of you had addressed the ‘pregnancy’ comments, avoiding it every time you had had sex since. The glow from the tv lit your face and he softened seeing more of you. He wasn't sure though if he should play it off or be honest if you asked about it right now.

“Hmm?” He hummed, waiting to see what you were going to ask.

“When you’re playing someone you know, like a friend, do you pretend you don’t know them, is it awkward?” You continued giggling.

“What are you on about?” He started laughing at your out of the blue question. For now, he guessed you were ignoring the comments so he would too. Your innocent question warmed his heart though. You were adorable. He just wanted to ignore all the shit going on and be with you. You were waiting for him to answer the original question so you sat up placing your hands in your lap, waiting patiently. His eyes lit up at how beautiful you looked.

“Hmm?” He hummed again squeezing your exposed waist pressing gross wet kisses against your skin. He missed you lately, you felt distant and he didn’t know if it was the baby topic or the news but he wanted to cheer you up.

“Ew!! You know what I mean!” You squealed attempting to wiggle out of his hold and get an answer but he was much stronger than you. He kept pressing dramatic kisses on you. You felt like a weight lifted as both your giggles filled the room.

“C’mere” he was trying to grab you but you were trying to get away from him jokingly but really, him, his kisses, his hands back on you right now was everything. It didn’t take long for him to catch you so he picked you up and placed you back where you were before. He quickly came to lay completely on top of you, crushing you with his weight. You loved this Trent. He was so childish, manhandling you ignoring how strong he was in comparison, he didn’t care about anything but the present, he wasn’t Trent Alexander-Arnold number 66 in Liverpool’s starting eleven, he was just yours for the moment. He was being ridiculous and it made you happy to see that big goofy smile come across his face as he giggled close to your face.

“Baby!” You breathed out heavily but your moan next to his ear had Trent brain shift gears almost immediately. He went from teasing you to becoming very aware he was on top of you, in control.

“No, tell me what you mean” he hovered over you, his arms pinning yours down against the couch above your head. Your chest rising and falling was more apparent on full display now. You felt small underneath him.

“No, T…” you said slow and sensual. Your brain transitioned too in your new position.

“No?” He cooed, leaning his face closer towards yours. The energy had shifted in the room

“No” you practically moaned, lifting your head a little to move towards his lips for a kiss, he met you half way and you gasped at the contact.

“Okay… gonna tell me what you want then?” He said pulling away from your lips for a moment resisting to kiss you till you answered him.

“No, don’t want anything from you” You giggled a little trying to play coy but he wasn’t having it.

“So you’re not the one drooling, staring at my dick right now?” He laughed. You hadn’t noticed that your gaze had dropped greedily to his hard length. You couldn’t even get a response out. You just smiled shyly.

“Why you going shy now baby? Hmm?” He said nuzzling into your neck as you tried to hide from him, turning your head. He used the arm not holding yours back to grab your chin and turn your face to him before his lips crashed into your again. His body pressed into yours, you could feel the hard cock you’d been staring at against your core.

“I’m not” you moaned, wanting to touch him but your hands struggled to break free under his hold.

“Baby” he paused, pressing his hips flush against yours. “So hard just for you, fuck, just for you.” He groaned

“I love you, T, fuck.. so much” you were desperate for him. He laid into you, his weight was heavy on top of you and love loved the pressure.

“Say it again” he whispered in your ear. His free hand ghosting over your body. It was an excruciating tease. His movement slowed when he pushed into you once more before he whispered again. “Say it again for me, baby.” He let go of your hands and you scrambled to grab at him, pulling his face to yours, kissing him hopelessly, tugging his clothes off frantically.

“I love you, forever, T.” You did. You were obsessed with him. Sometimes in moments like this it hit you how fucking crazy it was suddenly naked with him, your boyfriend, in the house you shared, in another country, it was absolutely mad. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about him fucking you the other night. You could hear him say it, it had been playing on a loop in your head for over a week.

“Make me a daddy, be a good girl and take it all of it f’me”

It made you practically orgaasm just thinking about it, his body on top of yours. His big hard cock brushed over you. You felt like you could scream. He was so hot on top of you, sometimes you forgot until it was happening. He looked down at you. His eyes glimmered, his full lips parted, you nodded to let him now you just wanted him inside you as soon as possible. His lips pulled into that cheeky beautiful grin that had you swooning when his cock brushed over your clit moving through your folds to push into your soaking wet pussy. Your back arched your hip’s instinctively coming forward to meet his. He slowly pulled out before thrusting back in falling into a hard and rough pace, silently telling you he was in charge. The air around you became increasingly thicker at how hot it was getting. He felt so good you couldn’t hold back a moan. The way the noise hit his ears made his stroke falter.. You had him on a leash you didn’t know you were holding. You controlled him with every move of your hips. Your whines had him folding. He was ready to give into anything you wanted. He took a deep breath pulling out for a moment to reset, trying to prolong this.

“T, baby, please, please I need you.” You were begging for him. He took a deep breath trying to gather himself before he gripped the fat of your ass so tight you let out uncontrollable whine.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He teased above you, that smile reappearing.

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, squeezing around nothing desperate for him. Trent pushed his finger in your mouth and you moaned around them. He took his now wet fingers from your mouth and dragged them down your body before his thumb rubbed your clit in harsh circles. .

“Be a good girl and tell me your mine.” He cooed as you were falling apart under him. You couldn’t get any words out only whines, you felt his thumb into your clit harder.

“Fuck! Fu-fuck T, I can’t.” Tears started to form on your lash line. Your eyes locked onto him in desperation to let you cum. He held your gaze before he slammed his length back inside you all at once. He started up a brutal pace, so much rougher than his previous one. You could feel every hard vein and ridge of it fucking into you. He consistently hit a spot so deep inside you that only he knew. You both moaned at the sensation. You couldn’t hold it together anymore.

“I know it feels good, baby, but you can do it. Tell me your mine.” He grunted through the words. You could tell in his voice he wasn’t far behind you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah fuck. T…Oh my god I’m yours. I’m yours.” You were crying. Tears rolling down your cheeks as your orgasm washed over you. You came all over his cock, Your slick covered his length as it dripped down your thighs. He continued to fuck into you relentlessly. “I’m yours, T.” You whined.

“Shit, shit, shit, gonna cum. Be a good girl and take all of it f’me.” It was a line similar to the one replaying in your head when you practically begged him to cum inside you to get you pregnant. A second orgasm came flooding in with the memory. All you could do is cry and moan his name while he fucked his cum into you, filling you up completely till it was leaking out of you. As he felt his cum seep out he couldn’t help but think about you asking for him to get you pregnant too. You were on birth control, you two definitely were not being the most careful but Trent didn’t mind if you actually ended up pregnant. In all honesty, that would be a dream for him. It was the ultimate way of marking you as his, and only his. You both were thinking about it and not saying a word but pretty happy with the idea.

You clung to his body breathing heavily whispering how much you loved him in his ear while your hand raked up his spine after his movements stilled and he collapsed on top of you. You stayed like that for ages until you heard an awfully familiar sound. Trent was softly snoring as he breathed on top of you. He rested his heavy head on your chest with his arms wrapped completely around your naked frame. His hair tickled your skin as he dozed off between your boobs. You let him stay like that a little longer, just happy to have him with you because he was going to be leaving for the tournament so soon. It was nearing dinner time and you wanted to make sure he didn’t fuck up his sleep schedule so you tried to wake him.

“T… baby” you cooed

“Hey…” you tried again, speaking softly.

“Pretty boy…” stroking your hand over his prominent cheek bone.

“Mmm” he groaned, moving a little on top of you. You thought he was going to get up but he just squeezed you tighter.

“No?” You giggled at how tired he was. “Okay.” You kissed him

“I love you Y/N so much” he said quietly, closing his eyes and humming in appreciation as you continued rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! Comment or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 18 xx

[sofasoap]

Little Help

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: Breaking bones is never a great experience.

Warning : T-M rating, talks of injuries, nothing too serious, any medical talks might be inaccurate. A/N: loosely based on my experience after I was in a car crash last year, my S/O had to help me wash my hair.

Part 5 of Little Bear series Masterlist

You knew you should have bought a new pair of work boots when you were at the shop last week.  

So you wouldn’t have to sit on the couch, drowning in your own misery, with a cast and sling over your arm, trying hard not to think of the pain it’s causing you every time you breathe. 

You were pretty lucky your neighbour was about to head out the door at the same time when they witnessed you slip down the wet stairs of your shared flat with Johnny, and stayed with you until the ambulance came. 

“Sorry Miss. Not only do you manage to break your ulna bone, you somehow manage to fracture your collarbone at the same time.” The doctor looked at you with sympathy. “Good news is, it’s not a complex fracture, no surgical intervention is required. Bad news is, you will have to be in a case for approximately four to six weeks.” Well, should have drank more milk when your parents nagged you every morning when you were young. You groan at the news. This is the worst time to have an injury that renders you semi functional. Johnny is off on deployment, and Johnny’s sister Mini who is usually on duty at this hospital is off on holiday back at their parent’s farm up in Scotland. All your other friends have families and work. You really don’t want to be a bother to them. So back to the present. Leaning against the cushion, on your good side, with tears rolling in your eyes, drifting in and out of sleep, waiting for the analgesic to kick in. 

“... Bonnie bear? What happened to you?” Well, it’s either the drug the doctor prescribed to you has unwanted side effects, you swear  you are hearing your boyfriend’s voice. “Teddy bear, come on, open your eyes, you are scaring me right now.” The voice is laced with concern, getting slightly frantic as he calls out to you again. Slowly opening your eyes with a groan, you were utterly surprised to find Johnny was kneeling by the bedside, his beautiful puppy blue eyes staring with his hand hovering around your body, wanting to touch you but at the same time too scared that he would cause further pain. 

“Johnny?” Blinking a few times, “ I thought, I thought … you not back for another few weeks?” “Mission was aborted. We got sent back early.” No further elaborations as he shuffles towards you a little bit closer, “Which is lucky because.. Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?” “.. I didn’t want to be a bother..” looking down, you replied with a voice that is barely above a whisper. You hate being useless. You hate asking for help, especially from your boyfriend.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you are NEVER ever a bother to me.” Johnny sighed and lightly carrasses your hair. “You are my treasure, I am always here to look after you, as you always do for me. Now, I am not taking no for an answer, I think you need a lot of help here.” And you are glad you said yes. Because you've been itching to have your hair washed. Moving was a huge struggle, let alone trying to raise your arm and scrub your hair, which is getting more and more oily and smelly in this unbearable summer heat. This is also when you notice, your dear boyfriend actually pays more attention to details than you thought. From how to scrub your hair, putting conditioners on, putting on hair oil before blow drying your hair.

“I’m not pulling too hard am I?” Johnny whispered as he gently brushed your hair, taking extra care to brush out the knots at the end. “You are doing a brilliant job. I assume you had plenty of practise?” You muse and take light playful jabs at him doing the same for his partners from previous relationships. “I know what you're thinking,” Kissing you lightly on your head as he finishes brushing, “Mini actually trained me to do her hair when she fell off a tree when she was young. She was double casted for weeks.” he chuckled. “She kept complaining I almost pull her head off her head everytime I try to brush it though, such an ungrateful sister.” he puffed in a joking tone. “Well, aren’t I glad you have learnt your lesson and my scalp and hair is still intact.” You laughed. Letting out a sigh as you enjoyed the lightness of freshly washed and brushed hair. You are already feeling a hundred percent better after a nice shower and the painkiller has finally kicked in. 

Leaning back into his chest, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “Thank you Johnny.” you murmured, full with emotion. 

“Anytime. I know you would do the same for me if I was in your situation.” Reaching over to grab the night cream from the dresser table,  “Face cream next?” Looks like you are getting the full spa treatment from your boyfriend tonight.

BONUS: “.... Gaz? Why are you ringing from Johnny’s phone…” “ Well,”  Gaz paused for a sec as he switched to video mode, his face appeared on the screen, looking at you with guilt, “the … what is the word, bampot boyfriend of yours managed fall out of the helicopter,” You gasped as Gaz deliver the news, “ Oh he is fine, don't worry, he had rope on him, but unfortunately he hit a tree while dangling.” Moving the camera towards the background, there you can see Soap, on the infirmary cot, with cast to both of his legs and arm on the right hand side, giving you a weak wave and smile.

“OH my heaven JOHNNY!!!” 

“Hi Bonnie bear…” he chuckled, “ Quite a pair, aren’t we?”

Simon and Mini ended up staying at the flat for a week before you had your cast removed, helping you both out with daily tasks.

I am lucky enough never had to break a bone ( touch wood. jinxed too many stuff this year ) but S/O mentioned once him and his brother broken an arm and collar bone each a week apart, and their friend laughing their head off at both of them looking very miserable with slings on ( inspiration to the bonus scene.) Tag list:

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator

@random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs

[enhaheeseung]

Heeseung’s reaction to sounding for the first time.

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: smut, cursing, hand job, oral, heeseung is kinda a sub, sounding, I suggest you research what this is before reading *nervous laughter*

Note: hi, sorry for the long wait I apologize. Please forgive me I’m sorry this is so short. I did what I could. I hope you enjoy it. @donghoonie-3

‼️Request closed until further notice‼️

WC: 1,6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you first came to your boyfriend and asked him about trying sounding for the first time, he just gave you a weird look, not fully understanding what it was exactly.

He had heard of it, but that was it, and once you elaborated on what it was, he looked at you even weirder.

You pouted at his reaction and dropped the topic completely cause you didn’t want to force it on him or make him uncomfortable.

Despite you not bringing it up again, it was on heeseung’s mind for the rest of the day. Now that you brought it up, he couldn’t seem to get the idea out of his head.

Two weeks later, and unbeknownst to you, he was secretly searching for the exact details of sounding once he saw all the different gadgets and sizes of them, his pupils expanded. “That’s supposed to go inside me?” he whispers to himself. It looked scary yet thrilling at the same time.

He then went in depth with his research by watching sounding videos, and he can’t lie that he got insanely hard while imagining you doing it to him.

Now the idea didn’t seem so outlandish to him. It was actually something he was quite interested in trying.

But he had too much pride to ask you about it since he had already shot down your idea when you first approached him about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d secretly try and hint at it in the bedroom, asking if you could take extra time licking his slit when you gave him head, and he’d be unusually vocal when you thumbed over his tiny hole.

But sadly, despite his not so great efforts, you just weren’t getting the hint, so finally, he left his phone on while you both sat on your bed. He “excused” himself to the bathroom, hoping you’d take a look at his screen and see what he was searching.

You smile at your boyfriend when he exits the bed, and you notice the light from his phone in the corner of your eye.

Your eyes gleamed upon seeing the search results on his phone. It was all different types of sounding toys and beginners kits which made you wonder if he was rethinking the proposal you went to him with a few weeks back.

Once he came back from the bathroom, he saw you smiling at him with his phone in your hand, and he was so excited for what you had to say, but he didn’t show it.

You had finally asked him again if he wanted to try it, and he just nodded his head, pretending he wasn’t absolutely ecstatic about trying it, but deep down, he couldn’t wait.

He’s never typed in his address and card information so fast he added the sounding kit to his cart and even paid an extra forty-five dollars for overnight shipping.

Once it arrived, he could barely contain his excitement. He was probably more excited about it than you. He made sure to let you know as soon as it arrived, and he was impatiently waiting all day, hoping you’d want to try it on him the same night it arrived.

When he saw that wasn’t happening, he quickly used his charms to win you over so you would take him to your bedroom, which only took him about one minute to seduce you cause he knew all the right places to touch to make you go crazy for him. “Do you want to try it now?” You ask him while sitting between his legs and slowly pumping his soft cock.

“We can, yeah” Your eyes lit up, and you grabbed the smallest rod and lubricant from your drawer. Once the rod was coated with lube, you made sure to apply some to his tip to make the insertion easier.

“I’ll go slow,” you whisper assuringly while kissing each of his thighs to make him relax. “Ready?” He nodded his head in response and got comfortable on the bed spreading his legs open to give you full access.

You ran the rod along his shaft to get him used to the feeling, but apparently he was too impatient for all of that.

He shuddered from the unfamiliar feeling. “You can put it in now,” he gulped as you traced the veins on his shaft with the rod one last time.

“As you wish” You stretched his hole open and slowly pushed the lubricated rod inside him, a loud gasp fell from his lips.

“W-wow,” he took quick breaths, trying to adjust to the weird feeling.

“Are you okay?” You asked just to make sure he was still completely comfortable.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay,” he assured you immediately. “It just feels…. Weird,” he chuckled as his eyebrows creased together, searching for the right way to describe the sensation. “Really weird but oddly good and a little cold?” You smiled at that and slowly pulled the rod out and re-inserted it. “Mmm, you can go deeper,” he said, a bit breathless. It was only about an inch in, and his toes were already curling in pleasure.

“Feels good?” You asked while cupping his balls and squeezing them softly before working your hand up and down his shaft to increase his pleasure.

“Ahh fuck, it feels so good” A gargled groan erupted from his throat as he gripped the bedsheets below him to ground himself. “Fuck” he lifted his head and watched the rod sliding in and out of his hole. The sight alone made him feel lightheaded, and the pleasure was becoming too much for him to handle as his head fell back on the soft pillows.

He looked so sexy in front of you, moaning and twitching in pleasure. This was far better than you had pictured in your head. The sight of the rod going deeper and deeper inside your boyfriend had your panties soaked already. “You look so pretty, baby,” you complimented him, and you wished you could have marked his neck then and there, but that could wait till later cause right now. You just wanted to make him cum on the thin metal rod that was inside him.

“Thank you, love,” he used the last ounce of his sanity to reply, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his strained voice as you pushed the rod in halfway and swirled your palm around his tip.

His mouth parted open in a gasp mixed with a moan when you squeezed his tip, and he was well past the point of no return. “C-close, so close,” you could tell from the way his chest was heaving up and down and the way his abdomen flexed every other second.

“Go ahead, handsome, cum” on your command. He let out a hoarse moan cumming as soon as the words left your mouth.

The first ropes of cum pushed the rod halfway out of his hole, and you pulled it out the rest of the way, jerking him off until he emptied himself completely, or so you thought. “Fuck y/n,” he whimpered and squirmed on the bed, muscles spasming violently as he experienced the strongest orgasm he’s ever felt.

You slowly stroked him through his high as his whimpers turned into little pained whines, and more milky beads of cum dribbled out of his stretched hole. “Oh fuck” he bit his lip harshly. “I’m still cumming.” He said in disbelief as he watched more trickles of his cum coating your hand and his twitching abdomen.

His breath was still uneven, but his body was starting to relax, only twitching slightly. When you released his shaft from your hold, you placed a gentle kiss on his tip, licking the cum from his tip before hovering over him and kissing his cheek. “Did you like it?” You ask, hoping he had just as much fun as you did.

“I loved it,” he said bashfully. After a few more deep breaths, his eyes started to get heavy as you lay beside him, you pulled the blankets over his tired, exhausted body.

“I’m glad” You smile and kiss his damp forehead.

A few short moments later and he had passed out, too overwhelmed and drained to keep his eyes open any longer. The last thing he remembers is you cleaning him up and thanking you before hugging you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a few weeks since the night you both tried the sounding kit, and he was absolutely in love. Every time you had sex, he always asked if you could use it on him, and you were more than happy to fulfill his request.

How could you not when he looked and sounded so pretty with the rod inside him?

“Hey baby, what are you doing?” You joined him on the couch while he was using his phone.

“Can I get this?” He asks while showing you another sounding kit, only this one had multiple different sizes and were ribbed, unlike the ones he had previously gotten.

You smile at his cute, questioning face, and of course, you couldn’t tell him no how could you when he looked so excited? “Sure!” He smiles as you run your fingers through his hair.

“Ooh, and maybe this,” he says after scrolling a bit more, noticing that they also made rods in all different colors and materials, and you can’t lie the idea of seeing a baby blue colored rod inside him definitely excited you, you knew it’d make his dick look even prettier. “We also need more of this,” he murmured while adding lube to his cart. “I know I already got so much, but can I get this too?” He rested his head on your shoulder and looked at you cutely.

“You can get whatever you want, baby” You didn’t know he’d take it literally by the time he was finished. He had all kinds of vibrating rods and different flavors of lube in his cart, but who were you to complain cause you were going to enjoy this just as much as him if not more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well I’m back😂

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Thank you so much for reading. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. I hope you all enjoy. Sorry for any typos/errors, and as always, enjoy your day/night.🤍🖤

[bitchlessdino]

Hii! I really wanted to request a Minghao fic. (Gn!reader) Where he thought at first that the reader was mean and rude so they slowly became kind of enemies only to find out after that they just have anxiety and didn’t mean to give off that impression.

Sexual tension to the next level. Not really smut but suggestive? Just steamy make out session. (Am I giving too many details? I also have some prompts but you don’t have to use them)

"You're so cute when you're nervous."

"You don't have to be so shy around me, you

know?"

Thank you 🪷

Pairing: gn!reader x photography major!minghao

Genre: suggestive, fluff

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: anxious reader, mentions of anxiety, making out, suggestive content

author note: i seriously need to write more hao, i found this request so cute and fun to write

Minghao got along with the people he got along with and the ones he didn’t he wouldn’t. It was simple as that and for that reason, he didn’t like you. Why was it that every time he entered a room with you inside, you’d either leave the room or make an effort to stay as far away from him as possible? And it’s not to say Minghao did not try to get along with you, you just would simply not reciprocate.

Yet here you both were locked in a room together against your will.

He sat on top of a desk available, seeing you seated on the floor as far away from him as possible after having knocked on the door with no sign of people on the other side. Your legs to your chest, head to your knees, you internally panic to yourself about being stuck in such a situation. You’d frantically glance over at him, still seeing that he’s staring down at you, almost eerily.

Both of you made plans to visit the photography club coincidently, only to realize how flimsy the door was from the inside. After relentless knocking, knowing how late it is and how likely anyone else was around, there was no one to answer or save either of you from the other side.

“Might as well get comfortable. We’ll be here a while.”

You nod back at him, turning your head away from the side, away from him. His eyes narrow at you, wrinkling his brows, thinking to himself even in this situation you manage to make minimal contact with him. The silence lingers for as long as half an hour and you both are starting to feel hope is lost. Minghao bored out of his mind decides to interrupt the peace.

“While I have you here, what’s your deal with me?”

You blink up at him cautiously, no words leaving your mouth. Confusion was the only thing, besides your severe anxiety that is, on your mind. 

“If you have beef with me just say that. It’s annoying to talk to a brick wall.”

You clear your throat, your thudding on your chest, mustering the courage to speak with him. “I-I don’t.”

“Oh yeah,” he prods, “then why do you avoid me? Do you just not like me?”

You rapidly blink at him, tugging against the hem of your shirt. “N-no, I’m…I don’t…I’m sorry.”

He hums at your response, glad it’s heading at least somewhere. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You shake your head, hair in your face. “I’m just…that’s not it. I’m sorry.”

Minghao shut his eyes in frustration, thinking about how you’re starting to sound like a broken record. “Please stop apologizing and tell me what’s wrong. I don’t get it.”

“I…not good with talking.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your silence lingers, twiddling your fingers, thinking you’ve explained it as well as you could, but apparently not. Expressing yourself has never been easy for you. Being someone who could connect with someone else interpersonally would admittedly take a lot of effort considering how to react actively in flight mode. You appreciated Minghao putting in that effort, It bothers you how you still have to elaborate.

“…It’s hard. I’m trying my best.”

“Are you?”

“I think...I hoped so.”

He chuckles a little bit, appreciative of your vulnerability. “Can I be honest with you?”

You peer at him, staring at him before reluctantly nodding. 

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

There’s a slight panic in your eyes as you abruptly deny his assumption. “Not at all. In fact, I respect you a lot!”

Minghao is intimidating but that didn’t make him unlikable. On the contrary, you commend his talents and efforts, seeing his work being showcased in every exhibit the university held. Every piece of his brought something special to every show. 

And if not for his art, he made everyone around him feel uplifted and involved. He’d occasionally offer mentorships or advice, all while still committing to his work. Outside of his school circle, he’s proven himself to be a good friend, there were always smiles around him. He came off much like a jack of all trades: artistically skilled, conversely witty, and unrealistically attractive. You thought no different.

A sense of pride seeps out of him when he hears how you feel. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know that. Tell me why.”

You take a beat, worrying Minghao if he pushed you into a corner again until you finally speak up. “Am I being interviewed now?”

Minghao covers his mouth laughing, slightly taken aback by your joke. “No, but can I sit next to you?”

“…Sure.”

He slides off the desk and sits on the floor next to you, inches apart. You could catch his side profile in an intimate position, trying to catch your breath while at the same time trying to steady your heart rate.

“Soo…you respect me.” He turns his head to get a clear view of you.

He notices your closed-off body language, taking into consideration that intimate talks like these weren’t a normal occurrence for you. You hide behind your hair or look in your lap, all while keeping that small voice of yours. He was realizing he was wrong about a lot of what he thought of you but is glad you’re willing to open up to him now.

You slowly nod, still not meeting his eyes. “As an artist. I do like your…work.”

“That’s very encouraging, I’m flattered.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

He shrugs, not denying it. “Yeah, but I didn’t expect it from you. I thought you didn’t like me, remember…and maybe also because I respect you.”

He surprises, giving you the courage to see his soft expression  “M-me? Why?”

“What do you mean why? You’re a great photographer.”

“But you’re better.”

Minghao slowly feels you getting more comfortable with him, allowing an expanding sense of pride. Both of you taking many of the common classes due to being in the same college major, you noticed each other's work and seem to have learned from each other because of it. There’s this animated way you speak when it came up to your passion, making him feel fortunate enough that it matched up with his. 

Minghao confesses how he admires how you capture the expression and life of people on camera, meanwhile, you admire how he brings attention to details others would see from a big picture. You both agree how different your styles may be, there's always something one would desire to emulate from the other. That night, your eyes opened up to his view, feeling as if you’ve gotten to know the Minghao past what everyone else already knows.

“I should take you to one of my shoots sometimes, I could teach you if you want.” he offers, subtle scooting closer to you as you converse.

“That would be fun.”

“Yeah, and maybe you can be in front of the camera for once.”

You scoff, your boots swinging timidly from your feet. “Oh, I don't know about that.”

“Why not,” His shoulder knocks against yours, “I think I could get you a nice portrait or candids.”

You crinkle your nose. “I’d be so tense under a lense. It’s so much easier to be behind the camera.”

“I’ll be there to help you. I want everyone to see the beauty I see.”

You could feel the mood shift. His words had not only changed the tension but how his eyes fixated on you made you nervous, more than it usually does. His lips parts in interest, anticipating an answer. You exhale through your nose, almost trying to relieve yourself, and start to tap the surface of your thighs. “Then okay. Let’s do that next time.”

You could tell he was smiling despite you facing away from him. “Cool. Also, you don’t have to be shy around me, you know. You can look me in the eye, I won’t bite if you do.”

“I can’t really help it.” You chuckle quietly. “You look at me funny.”

“Like how?”

Your eyes are shifty, heart pounding probably loud enough for him to hear. “I don’t know. Like you want to kiss me?”

You took a shot in the dark.

“I do want to kiss you.”

Minghao fired back.

You gulp, feeling the warmth of expectancy in your body spread all over. You look to blink back at him only to glow flustered under his soft gaze. You could get lost in his eyes for hours, days even. In a dreamlike state, you anxiously ask for confirmation. “Are you being serious?”

He draws his head closer to yours, enough to see your face entirely and a longing expression to appear. “Are you giving me permission?”

“…yes.” You whisper.

“Then, yes.”

He reaches over to grab your hand and pulls your weight to meet his plump lips, gently adjusting to their groove. He presses more pressure, his tongue licking the surface of your bottom lip, leading you to give him access inside. Time is flying by and your defense slowly comes down. Your face relaxes, only focused on Minghao and he’s only focused on you, forgetting momentarily the position you’re in.

You get accustomed to his touch, growing bold enough to lace your fingers through his fingers. You feel him sigh against your lips, utilizing his other arm to pull you closer to your waist, and in turn, you gasp. You pull away from him briefly to find that sly grin on his face as he let out a giggle. “Are you getting shy on me again?”

You gave him a subtle nod.

“That’s okay. You’re so cute when you’re nervous.”

“S-stop,” you lightly shove him, but he embraces you closer, his laughter flooding your ears and his nose tickling the tip of yours.

He gazes into your eyes intently. “I mean it.”

You feel as if you would melt. As if you couldn’t like him any more than you already do he manages to prove you wrong. You reconnected with his lips, kissing him much more confidently than before. Your hand is placed against the back of his neck, feeling how languidly he moves against you and naturally you pull him towards you to have him toppled over you. 

Minghao is the one flustered for the first time tonight, staring down at you in astonishment. “Well. I guess we know how to kill time while we’re here. I’m glad it's with you.”

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Why is the Question

A.N: Illusions to Malleus Dorm Uniform card, so if you haven't read that vignette, this story may not make sense. I loved that vignette; this is my TWST OC Mia with Malleus after the fact.

Twisted Wonderland Masterlist  

—————————————————-

There was no other word for it. 

Malleus was pouting as far as Mia was concerned. He barely said two words since the Gargoyle Research Society meeting started. Which didn’t bother her any, as sometimes they would sit in companionable silence and observe the gargoyles together. At Ramshackle dorm, tea would often accompany them.

There was no tea today. 

But the key word was companionable silence. 

This wasn’t companionable, as Malleus’ brain was obviously not on the beauty of the Ramshackle gargoyles this evening. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out why Malleus’ attention was elsewhere. 

By now, all of Night Raven College knew about the stunt that the Diasomnia Housewarden had pulled during the previous Housewarden meeting. How could they not when most of the Dorm Leaders had returned to their dorms in a rage? 

Mia simply continued to sketch in her sketchbook. She had already asked if he was alright, and he reassured her before returning inward. She thought, perhaps, he found it a private matter to deal with. 

That’s fine, he knew where to find her. 

Eventually, Malleus heaved a sigh and murmured, “No matter how many times I try to go over it in my mind, I simply cannot understand what went wrong.” 

Mia decided to take this cue since he voiced it outloud and spoke lightly, “Oh, anything I can help with?” 

Malleus blinked and started. Slowly he turned and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. 

Mia continued her sketching. 

“Ah, Child of Man!! Yes, you are a child of man. Perhaps you would assist me in a matter?” 

Mia only chuckled, “You don’t have to be so formal, what’s up?” 

Malleus started, “Well, you see, it’s like this….” 

Ten minutes later, after Malleus explained the event in great detail, including everyone’s reaction, he was stunned to see a twitch of Mia’s lips. Much like Lilia, she could no longer hold it back and burst out laughing, slamming her sketchbook close. 

Malleus felt a flash of annoyance at this. 

Exactly what was so funny about this?! Was he being made a fool of? 

Mia waved her hand, “I’m sorry! I promise, I’m not laughing at you but hearing a 1st hand account of the event, I mean…” 

“Yes, yes. Very amusing, child of man.” 

Mia managed to contain her mirth, although her eyes still danced. Perhaps it was wise to settle down a little. She could tell that Malleus was beginning to lose his patience the longer he looked at her. She did not want an angry fae on her hands. 

“Malleus, I….” pause. 

“....” 

“.....” 

Sigh. “There is so much to unpack, I can’t do it in the next five minutes.” 

“I have the time.” 

“Yeah, not right now. Listen, let me think about this a little more. This is gonna require a Powerpoint presentation with graphs and everything.” 

Malleus blinked, “Does it really warrant that?” Just how big was this matter that he couldn’t seem to get a grasp of? 

Mia giggled, “Oh, yeah…..”

“Then can you, at least, explain why do you keep laughing? What exactly is so humorous?” 

Mia took pity on Malleus who looked so earnest, “Personally, I find it quite charming.” 

Malleus’ eyebrow shot up, “Charming?” 

“It’s charming and sad at the same time. I have to say, you get an A+ for effort. Using what knowledge you had, you came up with some kind of solution. Didn’t work, but you took some initiative. That should be applauded.” 

Malleus pouted, “Would that others saw it that way….” 

“Ah, well, I do have an edge over them.” Mia shrugged. 

Malleus looked at Mia and raised an eyebrow when she didn’t elaborate any further. 

Mia glanced away once, “Well, I’d like to think I know you a shade bit better than the others. I know that it came from a good place in your heart, and you didn’t mean to hurt, insult or scare them.  Just you and the other’s wires got crossed. However, if I didn’t know you as much as I do, I would probably be insulted as well. ” 

Malleus heaved a sigh, “You as well? This is troubling indeed. This has made me even more aware of the differences between fae and human, but I do want to make some kind of effort. I’m just not sure where to go from here.” 

“Well, for starters, you need to go to the next meeting.” 

Malleus folded his arms, “I cannot if I’m not invited.” 

Mia growled, “You got an invitation the moment you became dorm leader. Even if they are angry, no one will find you rude if you show up. You have just as much right as a dorm leader to be there as them. They don’t like it, their problem. That’s #1. And #2 when you get there the first thing you should do is apologize.” 

Malleus whipped his head towards Mia, with wide eyes. 

Before he could protest, Mia spoke up, “It’s really to just smooth things over. I know you feel you don’t have anything to apologize for, and you don’t understand, but that doesn’t matter. They felt insulted, therefore you are apologizing for insulting them even amidst your good intentions. And Malleus, don’t be condescending about it. That will only make them angrier.” 

Malleus heaved another sigh, “It seems human etiquette is so intricate. I fear I am bound to mess this up, no matter what I say or attempt to do.” 

“Don’t worry about it! We can practice if you like.” 

Malleus smiled at her, “I’d be much obliged.” 

“.....After I try to make sense of this faux paux you have committed….” 

Although Mia was shaking her head at him, Malleus could still see the mirth in her eyes. Perhaps if this child of man didn't think he was that much of a lost cause, perhaps he could see this through. 

“I will look forward to your teaching then.” 

Two days later, Mia had invited Malleus into Ramshackle Dorm. Malleus was surprised to see a huge paper sitting on an easel. True, to her word, Mia tried her hardest to explain why everyone was angry.  Although Malleus didn’t quite get it, he learned that understanding that he offended was much more valuable than the why. 

In fact, Mia quickly shut down his constant question of why. 

“Just as fae has things that are a fact for them, so too, do humans. You don’t have to understand why, you just need to learn and memorize a loose script and accept it as fact. The way you understand is to learn and accept the boundaries. And if you don’t know, ask someone. Between Lilia, Sebek and Silver surely you can get some kind of answer. If not, come ask me. And if I don’t know, ask one of the teachers or Headmage. I’m sure between all of that, we can find some kind of actionable answer.” 

It seemed he had a long way to go, but perhaps if he could start by learning from this child of man, who seemed willing to take time out of her day to teach him. 

Ah, he would have to properly show her his gratitude for this evening. 

[voidedaurora]

ily guys and support you all the way through!! ik you guys probably aren’t used to making this type of call out content often, BUT i feel like you guys could have opened the box with all of this and widened the picture if that makes sense. like, i’ll try and put it this way: there are a LOT of outsiders being introduced to this situation who either never heard of mel or simply never paid attention to them/their content,, even if you add snippets of context and proof (i’m personally not saying there isn’t enough proof, but an outsider won’t fully understand most likely) it’s easy for people to either downplay the situation, defend mel, or stay neutral because they’ll most likely come to their own conclusions considering they don’t really see the FULL picture. it’d be easy for outsiders to possibly side with mel and believe her because maybe you haven’t gone into detail about how she is perhaps? i wouldn’t fully understand why people are so dismissive fully, but i will say, i feel like these call outs are more directed towards mel’s audience which ISN’T at all a bad thing, BUT that just kind of leaves outsiders in the dark which might make them dismissive

i get that you guys probably don’t care about people being dismissive and that’s valid because why give them the time of day, right? but, i personally feel like if a more detailed and broad explanation of all of this isn’t put out at some point, then it’s possible that this entire thing will slowly fade out which doesn’t sound good :( because notice how it’s mostly outsiders and people who don’t know mel too well who are either dismissive or neutral? and i most certainly don’t want to put bad ideas in you or anyone else’s heads, i only want to add a perspective that’s (possibly) new because it really frustrates me and feels unfair that this isn’t being taken seriously and as much as mel’s getting called out, it still feels like they’re getting away with shit to a certain degree and that’s not good at all, they’ve done sm and don’t deserve that satisfaction.

it’s most certainly frustrating and unfair to see this “side” continuously being dismissed, attacked, being treated dramatically, etc. when you all shouldn’t have to face all this especially when it’s been THIS long. and you shouldn’t be forced to just “let it go” because you all faced mistreatment, disrespect, and unfairness to some degree and you deserve to speak up for yourselves to use your voices, you most CERTAINLY deserve to be taken as seriously as possible.

i REALLY hope i don’t sound like one of those ignorant anons at all, because i see you all, i’m listening, i feel for you all, and i wish you all the best of luck and i know many others on your side feel the exact same. i just want to try and be helpful i guess? constructive criticism basically, that’s my intention at least. i want to be as supportive as possible and i want you to feel validated because you all deserve that and those are my intentions, so i’m incredibly sorry if it doesn’t come off that way (i don’t usually give criticism and i’m not really good at explaining things)

i hope you’re all doing very good as of recently and i hope better changes will come in the near future. i really hope you get more people who understand and that your stories will be spread more and more, because who wants a bad person to thrive and who wants their victims to suffer in silence??? honestly, even if people don’t take this seriously there’s no way anyone in their right mind could call mel innocent.

if you DO take this into consideration and would like me to elaborate a bit more on this “broader explanation” concept i can certainly try to explain because i do have a couple ideas, but if not, that’s alright, i hope it was at least a BIT helpful. you have ALL my support and i’m very sorry if i worded anything wrong or if this isn’t understandable

I completely get where you're coming from with it being a bit confusing for people that have never seen her before, I'd honestly be really open to hearing any advice on how I can better explain/format all of this for people that fall into that bracket because Im definitely used to people at least knowing a little about her whenever I talk about this stuff, So really do feel free to either send another ask elaborating on things or even personally messaging me about it if you see that as an easier option

I appreciate the concern and you taking your time to write all of this/offer your thoughts, and definitely get what you mean about people outside being rlly dismissive

🧡

[bedlamsbard]

Part 2 of the "Hydra took over SHIELD before Steve came out of the ice" concept! This is in the back of my head as one of the concepts that's likely to turn into a full story, but I know better than to make any promises. (Note: I use the 2008 date from the BW deleted scenes for Natasha's defection.)

This sequence immediately follows the previous sequence.

About 5.3K below the break.

*****

Alexander Pierce had come to tell Peggy personally the day after he had forced Nick Fury out of SHIELD.   At that point Howard’s son had been dead for six months, killed in an industrial accident that most newspapers had written off as the tragic but natural outcome of Tony Stark’s increasingly erratic behavior.  Howard had kept the two halves of his life so separate that Peggy could count on one hand the number of times she had actually met Tony Stark, even considering the years when he had still been in nappies.  She hadn’t gone to the elaborate funeral that Obadiah Stane had thrown for his erstwhile employer.

Pierce she had known quite well from his SHIELD days, before he had moved over to the State Department and later to the World Security Council.  He had been quiet and apologetic, with barely concealed anger underlying his words and a couple of SHIELD agents posted at the door to keep anyone from overhearing their conversation.

“Nick got away,” he told her after he had given her the Cliff’s Notes of the situation over at SHIELD – much worse than he had given out, Peggy had found out later, since there were still active sieges going on at half a dozen SHIELD stations worldwide even while he had been sitting in her room drinking tea.  “We’re doing what we can to find him, but cleaning up SHIELD is going to take priority.  Besides, he knows the entire playbook – he wrote the playbook, at least the parts of it that you and Howard Stark didn’t write.”

“You’re absolutely certain?” Peggy had asked.  “Turning us against each other is the sort of thing our enemies have tried in the past –”

Pierce had put down his teacup to gesture one-handed at the sling on his left arm.  “I got this when he shot me.  Personally.”  He picked up his teacup again.  “I wish I had any doubt at all.”

Peggy nodded slowly.  “Will you be all right?”

He smiled a little.  “Flesh wound.  It will take us months – probably years – to untangle all the damage he and his people have done.  We’re not sure yet how deep it goes.  I’m sure you can imagine the calls I’m getting right now.”

“Certainly an eventful start to a new administration,” Peggy observed; President Obama had taken office barely a month previously.

Pierce winced.  “The White House is responsible for a fair number of those calls.”  He glanced over at the door, then said, “I’m going to leave a protective detail here for you.  Right now Nick’s acting erratically and there’s a chance that he might come after you.  A small chance,” he hastened to assure her, “but a chance nevertheless.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Peggy said.

“You’ll hardly know they’re here,” Pierce said.  “Madame Director –”

“It’s been Peggy for years, Alex.”

He smiled again.  “Peggy.  It’s just until we catch Nick and his people.  Better safe than sorry, that’s what you taught me, remember?”  He hesitated a little, and Peggy might have passed the better part of her century, but she could still tell when he was acting.  Whatever he was going to say next, he had come here expecting to tell her.

“Spit it out,” she instructed him.  “It can’t be worse than anything else you’ve just told me.”

Pierce sighed. “Like I said, we’re still digging and will be for a while, but – it looks like Nick might have been involved in the Stark murder.  Howard, not Tony, I mean.”

Peggy actually stopped breathing for a moment, then started coughing.  Pierce jumped to help her, getting her a glass of water instead of more tea.  She waved him off until she had gotten her breath back, then croaked, “You’re sure?”

“No,” Pierce said, watching her.  “But it’s looking that way right now.  This didn’t start recently and it didn’t start when he became director of SHIELD.  He’s been at this a long time.  A regular Philby.”

Yes, Peggy had thought later, after Nick Fury had finally gotten in to see her without being shot or arrested.  A regular Kim Philby.  Only Pierce had been talking about himself, not Nick Fury.

After more than three years she knew her security detail quite well, since Pierce didn’t rotate them.  That was probably for Peggy’s benefit more than theirs; the more familiar with them she was the less she would suspect them of anything, like, for instance, being Hydra.  She was fairly certain that they were all Hydra; it wasn’t to Nick’s benefit to waste any of his SHIELD loyalists on her, not when every single one of them was needed in the Triskelion or at one of the satellite SHIELD stations.

She waited a full twenty-four hours after Nick had left before she got out her photo albums, trying not think about what he had said in the meantime.  There was nothing suspicious about that, she told herself; it was an old woman’s prerogative to dwell on her past if that was what she wanted to do.

There weren’t many photographs from the war – not hers, anyway.  She had a few from Bletchley, one from SOE, and a dozen or so from the SSR.  None of the SSR photographs in her album had copies in SHIELD’s files or anywhere else; Peggy thought that she was owed the privacy of her own memory, at least for a few more years.  After that, it would be up to Sharon to decide what to do with them.

They had all been so young, she thought, turning pages slowly.  It had been a lifetime ago, almost three-quarters of a century, and Peggy had buried everyone in those photos except for the ones who had never had graves – and who hadn’t died at all, as it turned out.

Steve’s alive, Peggy told herself, staring at a photograph of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes sharing a bottle of Coke and laughing, both of them looking impossibly young.  Nick had told her about Barnes a few years ago and that had been hard enough, even though Peggy had never had much to do with Barnes.  Steve’s alive, and Hydra has him.  They’ve had him for the last six months.

Peggy wished she didn’t know exactly what Alexander Pierce had done once he had made the decision to use sex with Steve.  She had done it herself – sat at her desk with a stack of personnel files, trying to determine which SHIELD agent would have the most appeal for their target.  It wasn’t just about looks, though looks helped.

An operator, she thought.  Someone physically capable, even if there was no one else who could go toe to toe with Captain America for more than a minute or two.  That she would be beautiful went without question.  Probably not someone who physically resembled Peggy herself, which meant that it wasn’t Sharon; that was something of a relief to Peggy.  Pierce was too subtle to be so heavy-handed.  Someone who wasn’t going to be overly-impressed by Captain America; Steve had never had much patience for that.  Someone with a sense of humor who could keep up with him intellectually.  Maybe a veteran, but maybe not.

And most importantly, someone whom Pierce thought was willing to sleep with Captain America for Hydra.

*

She was still thinking about that a week later when one of Pierce’s agents on her security detail knocked on her door.  The woman came in after Peggy had called her agreement, still holding her mobile phone.

“Madame Director, I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said.  “There’s been an incident at the Triskelion and Director Pierce would like to take you into protective custody for the time being.”

“What kind of incident?” Peggy asked, startled.

“Agents were killed,” said the Hydra agent.  “That’s all I know, ma’am, I’m sorry.  Let me help you pack a bag; Sarah’s bringing around the car.”

“Well, that’s dreadful, but I don’t see what it has to do with me,” Peggy said, hoping that her poker face could still hide an adrenaline spike.  The only reason she could think of for Pierce to want her moved was that something had happened with Steve.  Nick got him out.

“There might be some threat, ma’am,” the agent said apologetically.  “Where do you keep your bags, ma’am?”

Since she searched Peggy’s room regularly, she knew perfectly well, but Peggy directed her anyway.  She packed up her jewelry and her photographs while the agent packed her clothes; Peggy knew Nick well enough to guess that he had his own agents watching the home and they would be moving in at any moment.  Once they took her, she wouldn’t be coming back; better that Hydra do her packing for her than waste time making Nick’s SHIELD loyalists do it.

“I need my pictures,” she told the agent, who nodded in understanding and wrapped the framed photographs carefully in several scarves before closing the suitcase lid on them.  She helped Peggy into her coat and turned towards the door, where the man who had just come quietly in promptly tazed her.

“Phil Coulson, Madame Director,” he said, catching the Hydra agent and lowering her to the floor.  “Nick sent me; Abe’s boy is out of the hospital and Nick thought it would cheer him up if you came to visit.  Is this everything?” he added, looking at her suitcase.  “I hate packing.”

“That’s everything,” Peggy said, amused.  “Is Abe’s boy all right?  Our friend told me there was some trouble with the surgery.”

“He’s sleeping now, but he’ll be all right,” Coulson said, and Peggy felt a knot of unease loosen in her chest. “Not to hurry you, but we’ve only got a fifteen minute window.”

He bundled Peggy and her bags out of the home and into a waiting a car, which was driven by an Asian woman who looked vaguely familiar.  At the other end of the block, two identical cars turned out of a shaded driveway and peeled off in opposite directions; through the window Peggy saw that they had the same license plate as the car she was in.  She sat quietly in the back with Coulson for another twenty minutes of circuitous driving until the Asian woman said, “I think we’re clear.  Melinda May, Madame Director.”

“Pleasure,” Peggy said, then looked at Coulson. “Is Steve – Captain Rogers – really all right?  Give me a situation report.”  She hesitated.  “This is about Captain Rogers, isn’t it?”

“Last I heard,” Coulson said.  “I don’t know much; Director Fury can tell you more when we reach headquarters.”

“Tell me what you do know,” Peggy ordered.

Coulson exchanged a look with May in the rearview mirror, then said, “Sometime in the last five hours, Captain Rogers killed the scientist Hydra’s had working on – on him, along with some STRIKE agents.  The agent Pierce and Sitwell have had handling him is one of ours; she was meeting with Fury today while Captain Rogers was supposed to be in the lab.  Captain Rogers broke out of the Triskelion and trailed her to the meet, where he disabled another half-dozen SHIELD agents – ours, this time.  He apparently had a nice conversation with Fury before Hydra realized he was gone and activated his governor implant.  That was about half an hour ago.  Last I heard he was going into emergency surgery to remove the implant.”

“Pierce put a governor implant in Steve?” Peggy said, shocked and then annoyed with herself for being shocked.  Of course Alexander Pierce would have put a governor implant in Steve Rogers.  “Of course he did.  Steve – Captain Rogers – broke himself out?  What’s been happening in there?  What have they been doing to him?”

Coulson just shook his head.

*

Nick told her more once they had arrived at the SHIELD black site.  Peggy had no idea where he and his SHIELD loyalists had been hiding out for the past three years, but since they were still running around, apparently Pierce didn’t know either.

“Rogers wiped the computers in the lab, stole the data, and set a time-delayed explosive on his way out,” he informed her.  “The Triskelion’s on high alert right now, so none of our people still inside have been able to tell us exactly how much Hydra knows or if they managed to save any of the data or biological samples.  We have to assume they’ve got some of it stored off-site.  A good kill on Nagel,” he added. “Rogers is still under and can’t tell us what sent him over the edge today, but from everything I know about Nagel he’s a nasty piece of work.  Romanoff says he did a number on Rogers while they were at the Triskelion; he’s been working on him ever since he came out of the ice.”

“Wilfred Nagel?” Peggy said. “I recognize that name –”

“Yeah, he’s a son of a bitch.  When Romanoff – my agent – found out what he was doing to Rogers she told us we had to exfil him first chance we got.  That was a couple weeks ago.”

Peggy took a deep breath. “What was he doing to Captain Rogers?”

“Testing his enhanced healing, among other things.  Romanoff said Rogers was terrified of him.”

“Steve’s not afraid of anything,” Peggy said reflexively, but she knew from Nick’s expression and the gentle tone in his voice that it was the truth.  She also knew that “testing his enhanced healing” was a polite way to say “torture,” though from what she knew about Dr. Nagel he probably hadn’t even thought about that.  He would have been one of Arnim Zola’s protegees if Zola had lived longer.  She shut her eyes, breathing hard, before she looked at Nick again and said, “Where is he now?”

“Just came out of surgery.”

“I want to see him.”

Nick nodded.  He took her down several hallways to a makeshift but very clean series of rooms being used as a medical bay, stopping her in a room with a large window into a second room.  Beyond it, Peggy could see a woman sitting by a hospital bed.  She was young and very pretty, currently engaged in braiding her curling red hair into a thick plait.  Most of her attention seemed to be fixed on the man sleeping beside her.

It was Steve.

He looked like Steve, Peggy thought with a shock.  He looked like the Steve Rogers who lived only in her memory and her photographs, like he hadn’t aged a day in sixty-seven years of Sleeping Beauty slumber.  The shield was propped up at the foot of the bed.

Peggy took a deep breath, her heart hammering.  She pressed her hand to her chest in an attempt to calm herself down, then made herself ask, “Is that her?”

“Natasha Romanoff,” Nick said.  “Alexander Pierce’s handpicked choice to handle Captain America and fortunately one of our agents; she would have been my choice too.”  He hesitated for an instant, then went on, “You’re not going to like this part.  She’s ex-SVR, Red Room-trained; defected in ’08, the same week that the fiasco at Stark went down.”

He was right; Peggy didn’t like it.  She was a little shocked that Steve evidently had.  “Red Room?” she repeated, focusing on that.  “I thought the program had been shut down in 1993, 1994, not long after the Soviet Union met its ignominious end.  That girl’s, what, twenty-five?  Twenty-six?”

“Twenty-seven, same age as Rogers, give or take seven decades and a few years.” Nick shook his head. “The Red Room just went underground.  Romanoff killed the guy running it when she left.”  The corner of his mouth quirked a little. “So she and Rogers have got that in common.”

“Pierce isn’t dead, is he?” Peggy said, startled.

“Not that I’ve heard, but I doubt he’s going to last much longer,” Nick said.  His fingers flexed a little, like he was thinking about wrapping them around Alexander Pierce’s neck.  “This is it, Peggy, I can feel it.  This is how they lose and we win.”

*

“I’m sorry about this, Nat.”

Natasha finished tying off the end of her braid and looked up at Clint, frowning.  “About what?”

“Getting you into this.”  He pushed away from where he had been slouching by the door and came over to her, pulling up another chair next to Steve’s bed but angling it so he wasn’t looking at Steve.  “I made you some promises four years ago and six months later you were dumped into Hydra.”

Natasha shrugged.  “I knew what I was doing.  You and Fury and Hill made it pretty clear to me what I was getting myself into when I decided to stay.  Besides, it’s nothing I’ve never done before.”

Clint tipped his head towards Steve and said, “Not this.”

Natasha glanced up at him, frowning. “What you think I did?  I’ve done it before.  Besides, this wasn’t that.”

“They made you sleep with him.”

“No, they wanted me to sleep with him,” Natasha corrected.  “I slept with him because I wanted to.  There’s a difference.”

His mouth worked briefly.  “You should never have been in a position where we ended up having this conversation.”

“I had plenty of chances to get out, Clint,” Natasha reminded him, flicking a glance at the two-way mirror that took up most of one wall.  She was pretty sure that there was someone behind it, keeping an eye on them; whoever it happened to be was certainly getting an earful.  “It was my choice to stay under, not yours.”

“But you shouldn’t have –”

“Four years ago you said I had the right to be able to make my own choices,” Natasha cut him off. “That means all of my choices, Clint, even the ones that you wouldn’t make.  Even the ones that you wouldn’t have to make.”

He winced.  Clint was more of a soldier than a spy; he could flirt with the best of them, but like Americans Natasha had known he didn’t have the temperament for the kind of work she had been trained for.  Even if he hadn’t already been too closely associated with Fury to pull it off, he wouldn’t have lasted more than a year undercover with Hydra.  Natasha had no idea who the other loyalists at the Triskelion were and had forced herself not to speculate; it was safer for all of them if no one knew who the others were.

“Sitwell and Pierce couldn’t have made me sleep with him,” Natasha added. “They knew that.  If they had wanted someone who would try to jump into bed with him immediately, there are other people they could have chosen.  It wouldn’t have worked, anyway.  He’s not that kind of guy.”

“And I’ve got no idea what kind of guy he is, Nat,” Clint said. “Everything I know about him comes out of reports and History Channel documentaries.”

“Didn’t one of those say he was abducted by aliens?”

“Yeah, but according to the alien I know, that one’s not true.”

Natasha’s eyebrows went up. “What alien?”

Clint waved that aside.  “That’s not important.  What is important is that I don’t know anything about this guy except that Hydra’s had its fingers in his brain for the past six months and he didn’t even notice.”

“He noticed,” Natasha said pointedly, “or he wouldn’t be here right now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Convenient,” Clint said suspiciously.  “So what the hell were they doing to him in that lab today that finally made him snap?”

“Does it matter?”  There was a scratchy note but no emotion in Steve’s voice.

Clint and Natasha both jumped; Natasha hadn’t realized he was awake and Clint clearly hadn’t either.  Steve flinched when she bent over him, his mouth trembling a little and tears leaking slowly from the corners of his eyes, and Natasha knew immediately that he had been awake for a lot longer than he had let on.

“It’s just me,” she assured him.  “It’s just me.  Ignore Barton, he’s being an idiot.”

Clint had already gotten up to pour some water from the pitcher on a nearby table, his expression suggesting that he knew he had fucked up by having this conversation where Steve could overhear it.

“They took the implant out,” Natasha assured Steve before he could bring himself to ask about it.  “Mine too.”  She turned her head and held her braid out of the way so that he could see the bandage on the back of her neck.  “Mine was easy to take out, yours not so much, but it’s gone.  How do you feel?”

He moved one shoulder in a shrug and didn’t say anything, but he let Natasha help him sit up.  He looked suspiciously at the cup Clint brought over and didn’t make any move to take it; Natasha finally took the cup out of Clint’s hand and took a sip to prove to Steve that it was just water.  His hands were shaking, but he took it from her, and she closed her hands over his and held it steady until he could drink without spilling water all over himself.

“I’ll tell Fury you’re awake,” Clint said, beating a hasty retreat.

“I knew you were under orders,” Steve said eventually.  “I’m not – I knew.”

“You shouldn’t listen to anything Brock Rumlow says, either,” Natasha told him, which got the corner of his mouth to turn up briefly before he went back to frowning.

“If I hurt you –”

“You didn’t hurt me.”  Natasha put her hand to his cheek to make certain he was looking at her and said, “You never laid a hand on me I didn’t want you to.”

Steve stared at her for a long moment, then nodded.

“Do you hate me?” Natasha asked him softly.  “For lying to you?”

He shook his head. “You didn’t lie to me.  You didn’t tell me everything, but you didn’t lie to me, either.”

Natasha took the empty cup from him and set it aside, returning to her seat on the bed next to him.  “I am so sorry that this happened to you,” she said when his gaze flickered up to hers.  “I wish I’d been able to get you out earlier.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I still should have tried,” Natasha said, and was a little surprised to realize that she meant it.  She had weighed the chances of an exfil early on and discarded the option as unviable in those first few months; Steve was watched too closely.  Even the ops they had had been on had always been in company with STRIKE and had been in isolated areas that made it nearly impossible to run.

“It would have gotten both of us killed,” Steve said bleakly, his mouth working silently.

Natasha wondered if he had been running the same math that she had and when he had started doing so.  “Probably not killed.”

He grimaced and made a gesture of acknowledgment, knowing as well as she did that the two of them together were too valuable to Alexander Pierce to risk that.

“Nat,” he said hesitantly.  “The ops we ran for Pierce –”

He didn’t have to finish the question. “I don’t know for sure,” Natasha told him. “I can find out.  But for what it’s worth, most of what they’ve been doing at the Triskelion is what SHIELD – the real SHIELD – was doing four years ago.  I think the ops we were on were like that.  They’d – Sitwell and Pierce would have wanted to have you on softballs first, and push it up from there to see how far you’d go.  Not that they talked about it with me at all.”  She bit her lip.  Rumlow had said a few things that in retrospect made her think that he had known very well what Pierce was doing, whether or not Sitwell had ever told him.

Steve shut his eyes, breathing hard, and put his head in his hands.  Natasha had known what she was doing; Steve had just found out he had been running missions for Hydra since he had first gone into the field three months ago.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, not sure whether or not to reach for him.  She would have known what to do back at the Triskelion, when she knew they were under surveillance and that Steve had no idea what had been done to him, but now he did and Natasha didn’t know what to do.

Steve’s gaze cut sideways, then went up as the door opened and Nick Fury came in.  Natasha sat back, feeling self-conscious and obscurely guilty.

Fury considered her for a moment, then turned his attention to Steve.  “How are you feeling, Captain Rogers?”

“Like I’ve had a chunk of metal pried out of my spinal column,” Steve said, hesitating before he added, “Thank you.”

Fury nodded acknowledgment.  “I’ve got someone here who wants to talk to you.”

Steve looked wary, then his eyes widened as Fury stepped back so that Coulson could wheel in an elderly woman in a wheelchair.  She smiled a little tremulously and said, “Hello, Steve.”

“Peggy?”  He stood up like he meant to go to her, and then stopped, his expression uncertain.

“It’s all right,” Peggy Carter said. “I don’t bite.”  She held out a hand to him, smiling.

Despite the thinness of her face and the mass of wrinkles, her bones were still elegant; Natasha could see the beauty of the woman she had been seven decades earlier.  She had seen pictures of Peggy Carter before, some video footage from later in her life – there was none from the Second World War – but none of it compared to the woman herself.  There was a blazing aliveness to her despite the fact that she had to be, at Natasha’s quick estimation, ninety-six or ninety-seven.

Natasha eyed her a little warily.  She knew perfectly both who Peggy Carter was and who she was to Steve; she also knew that her great-niece Sharon was back at the Triskelion.  To the best of her knowledge, Sharon was part of Pierce’s inner circle, Sitwell’s second in command.  There was always the chance that she was another one of Fury’s loyalists, but Natasha wasn’t willing to bet money on it.

Steve went hesitantly to Peggy, his bare-footed passage near-silent.  He only touched her fingertips at first, like he was afraid she would vanish, then went slowly to his knees in front of her. “Hi.”

“You’re late,” she told him, reaching down to turn his face up to her.

“Traffic,” he said, trying to sound light, but his voice was trembling on the syllables.  Then he put his head down against her knee and started to cry.

Fury caught Natasha’s eye and moved his chin slightly in the direction of the door; Natasha nodded and got to her feet.  As Natasha passed her, Peggy reached out to touch her sleeve.  Natasha paused and looked down at her.

“Thank you,” Peggy said.

Natasha nodded in response and followed Fury and Coulson out.

“How’s he doing?” Fury asked after he had closed the door behind them.  Clint was waiting in the corridor; he nodded to Coulson as the other man left, presumably for the observation room that looked in on the hospital room.

Natasha thought the answer to that was fairly obvious, but said, “He’s scared.  He just found out about Hydra a few hours ago, remember?  He doesn’t know anyone here except for me – and Peggy Carter,” she added, glancing back over her shoulder at the door, “– and he doesn’t have any reason to believe that we’re any different than them.”

Clint scowled. “We didn’t put a fucking chip in his head.”

“You know he has no way of knowing that,” Natasha said. “It’s not the first time he’s woken up in a hospital bed after emergency surgency.  Though the last time it wasn’t to a stranger standing over him accusing him of rape.”

“That’s not –”

“That’s what he heard,” Natasha said, a little surprised at how angry she was.  “You had no right to say that about him.  Or about me.”

Clint shot a slightly panicked look at Fury, whose expression suggested that since he had gotten himself into this mess he was perfectly capable of getting himself out.  “You two need a minute?”

Natasha nodded, her mouth tight.

“Get this cleared up fast,” Fury advised. “Pierce isn’t going to give us much time.  Even if he doesn’t know for sure, by now he has to guess that we’ve got Rogers.”

He was already reaching for his earpiece as he left.

“You have no idea what it’s like there,” Natasha told Clint.  “You’ve been here for the past three and a half years.  You don’t know.”

Clint took a deep breath, then said, “So what’s it like?”

Natasha thought for a moment before she said, “Everyone’s watching each other all the time, telling on each other to Sitwell or Carter or Rumlow.  They’re always looking for loyalists, people who didn’t buy Pierce’s story about Fury but weren’t involved in the sieges.  Sometimes people just disappear.  If you know about Hydra, then it’s worse.  You’d think it means they trust you, but it doesn’t; it just means they have more to lose if they’re wrong about you, so they watch.  All the time.  I know every inch of that apartment Steve and I had in the Triskelion was wired.  I’m pretty sure he did too, but we never talked about it.  You don’t talk about it.  No one does.  Everyone knows, but no one talks about it.  You go on ops, you don’t know why, you don’t ask; you just hope they’re one of the ones that SHIELD would have run anyway and not one of Pierce’s pet projects.  Steve and I weren’t the only ones with governor implants there; everyone has them, even Sitwell and Rumlow.”

“Nat…”

“I grew up like that, Clint,” Natasha said bluntly.  “It’s all I’ve ever known.  Even the six months I was at SHIELD, I know Fury had me under surveillance; I know you were reporting to him about me.”

“Nat –”

“Do you know the difference between being in the Red Room and being in Hydra?” Natasha asked him.

Clint shook his head.

“When I joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight,” Natasha said.  “But I just traded in the SVR for Hydra.  The difference is that I knew whose lies I was telling and why I was telling them.  All that time I was under it was a chance to make up for all the pain and suffering I’d caused.”  She raised one shoulder. “That I was still causing.  That maybe I could wipe out some of the red in my ledger even while I was adding new lines.  I didn’t do it for SHIELD or for Fury or even for you.”  She swallowed hard, surprised to find her hands were shaking a little.  “You had no right to say that to me.”

Clint took a deep breath, clearly fighting back an assortment of automatic responses, then finally said, “You know I never liked the idea of you staying in.  I just want you to be safe.”

“What’s safe?” Natasha said, shaking her head.  They had been working together closely the six months she had been with SHIELD, but since Hydra had forced Fury out she had seen him perhaps a dozen times.  “You and I, we’re not the kind of people who get to have that.  I owe you for getting me out of the Red Room, but I don’t owe you that.”

“You got yourself out of the Red Room,” Clint said.  “I just threw you a rope, that’s all.”  He hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Natasha said.  She wasn’t sure if he actually meant it, but it was probably the best she was going to get.

Clint ran a hand back through his hair, looking tired.  “Are you in love with him?”

Natasha glanced up at him, startled by the blunt question.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “Maybe.  I don’t know.”

[saralayne]

This Love ~ Part 10 🩵💜

Stand With Me

Tim asks his best friend to stand with him as his best woman.

Grand gestures were definitely not in Tim Bradfords wheelhouse. He liked to keep things simple. Well, that was until a hot shot rookie entered his life. Slowly but surely he became in tune with his feelings. To a point. He was still him in some ways. Lucy’s influence has definitely changed him.

The wedding details have all been taken care of. Lucy being Lucy had asked Tamara to be her maid of honour in an elaborate way. Because, of course she did. To be fair, Tamara was their daughter. Everything with Tamara deserved something big. Still, Lucy worked with Angela everyday and she hadn’t heard a story of Tim asking her to stand with him. Lucy knew she would have. “Babe, what did Ang say when you asked her to be your best woman” asking Lucy. “Umm. Nothing. Since I haven’t actually asked her” replying Tim. “WHAT!?! What the hell Tim?” screaming Lucy. “Whoa. Baby. Settle down Angela knows it will be her standing up there with me” muttering Tim. “Tim. She’s your best friend. She asked you to be her best man with macaroons and got down on one knee for gods sake. She deserves to at least officially be asked. She has been a cheerleader for us since the very beginning.” sharply Lucy added. “Ok. Ok. I will talk to her BUT Luce I’m not you. I’m not planning some over the top moment to ask her. Understand? I realize you went big with T. But she’s our daughter” smirking Tim. “Yeah. Yeah. I get it. Mr. grumpy pants. Just ask her”

As Tim drove to the station. Smiling to himself while rolling his eyes. Never in his life especially since Isabel, did he ever expect to be so influenced. Not only that, but be overtaken by a short, brown eyed beauty. Here he was. Absolutely a sucker for Lucy Chen. He wouldn’t have it any other way. As he thought about it. Lucy was right. Angela had been there for him for years. Standing beside him and supporting him through the darkest times of his life. Never wavering, no matter how hard he pushed people away. She was his ride or die for a long time now. She deserves to be properly asked to stand with him in the most important moment of his life. When he marries the love of his life. She was also their biggest supporter. Making Tim realize time after time that his feelings for Lucy were more than platonic. Bringing him out of his denial.

During a break in the day, Tim headed out to do a little shopping.

Lucy was helping the detectives with a case. They had been out doing some investigating. As they returned to Wilshire. Angela noticed a box with flowers placed on top of the box. “Uh oh. What is Wesley making up for now? questioning Nyla. Angela chucking. “Nothing to my knowledge. Usually I’m pretty in tune with his mess ups” whispering Angela. The flowers were a beautiful bouquet of yellow carnations. Yellow the colour of friendship. Lucy had a 100 watt smile smeared across her face. “Chen. What’s your deal?” asking Angela. “Oh look there’s a card. Read it” As Angela read the card. Not able to wipe the smile off her face. “Oh. This is all your doing isn’t it Chen?” asking Angela. “I don’t know what your talking about” smirking Lucy. “Tim Bradford. A grand gesture. He didn’t get here on his own. Macaroons. The same way I asked him to be my Man Of Honour” questioning Angela. “Again, I don’t know what your taking about. What does the card say?” muttering Lucy. Angela began laughing. Skimming the note before reading it out loud.

“Lopez. I can’t pull a fast one on one of the best detectives in LA. (Sorry, my almost wife is a detective now. So you will have to share the spotlight) so yes, Lucy might of had a hand in this gesture. BUT that doesn’t take away what your friendship has meant to me and continues to mean to me. I could go on and on. Not gonna completely turn into fiancée. Will you be my best woman and stand up with me?”

“Oh my gosh. Bradford has turned into a complete softie” whispering Nyla. “Yeah, he has. I wonder who’s influence is responsible for this?” Angela turning towards Lucy. “Again, I don’t know what you are talking about?” responding Lucy sharply. “Uh. Huh. Well I guess I better not keep him waiting for my answer. Or maybe I should?” laughing Angela.

Tim was buried in paperwork when there was a knock at his door. Angela enjoying one of the macaroons Tim had gifted her.

“So. I see you got my gift?”

“Yes I did. I gotta say. These macaroons are delicious”

“I’m sure. And, do you have anything to say to me?”

“Well. Maybe. You know what the best part of getting your gift was?”

“What is that?”

“Your fiancée was there and she was very smug about it. Are you sure you wanna marry someone more smug than you?”

“Ok, she might have had a small part in this. But she was right. You deserved to be asked. And to answer your question. Lucy acting smug just shows that I trained her well. I can’t wait to marry her. You, my best friend had it all figured out. She is without a doubt the love of my life. Thank you for pulling me out of my denial and getting my head on straight”

“Well. I am LA’s best detective” giving Tim a big smirk. “But, anyone with eyes could see the way you looked at her, and the way she looked at you. You both should win a medal for the level of denial you were in. I’m just glad I could be a part of guiding you in the right direction. Really, your only direction. All joking aside. It has been a pleasure and a joy to watch your love story come alive. I have never seen you happier. She brings out the best parts of you. You do the same for her. It’s almost nauseating how joyful she is all day long. You complete her”

“So…Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Bradford. I would love to stand up with you. Be your best woman when you finally say I DO”

“Ok. Get out of here Lopez. Let me finish my paperwork so I can get home to my beautiful fiancée”

“Gross. You two are sickening. Alright, later Bradford”

“Later Lopez”

[mixmioart]

What exactly happened in New England during the 19th century?

Time for some real life vampire folklore time!!

(Sorry this is gonna be an unnecessary long rant)

The YouTube channel Ask A Mortician has a video about it, was a while since I saw it but I remember it as great!

I’m a bit rusty in all the exact details so sorry if I get some stuff wrong, but there was a tuberculosis epidemic (an illness that renders you weak, pale, anemic and hollow-eyed, perhaps even coughing blood! Which has become part of vampire victim canon in pop culture!) which killed a lot of people. Entire families died en masse, and it was obviously horrifying for everyone. Often, one family member would become sick, and then, one by one the rest would become weak and die.

This lead to rumours being spread that it was actually the dead that was leeching off the energy of their living relatives, slowly draining them. Which led to people, in a few cases, digging up their dead and in some cases burning their hearts/removing heads, etc. Sometimes sick family members were made to breath in/consume the ashes from the burning. But basically. Classic vampire exhumations.

Even at the time this was considered strange, ‘barbaric’ and unscientific! People were sceptical! Especially outsiders, but even the people doing it! In one family, a father dug up his daughter, even though he didn’t personally believe it. But the science about tuberculosis was pretty new and offered no hope nor cure + the rest of the community wanted him to +and his last living child was terribly ill so like.... would he be able to live with himself knowing he hadn’t done every possible thing??

From the book “Food for the Dead” by Micheal E. Bell who is probs the main expert on the topic:

And:

But since then these town has been overrun with ghost hunters/vampire fanatics who are all super interested in finding the truth (!!!) about the vampires or communicating with the ghosts or whatever.

Whereas the takeaway is rather that this wasn’t really any occult encounter with the supernatural. It was a sincere attempt at folk medicine. The term “vampire” was hardly used by the people doing it. And the story is honestly kinda misrepresented as an “uhhhhh scary vampires” or “dumb villagers” when in reality it was just people doing their best at a fucking horrifying illness. Which might be is a boring conclusion but from a plain human perspective is very compelling, and honestly more interesting!

I did all this research bc I wanted to make a comic based on the vampire tale until I read enough about it that I didn’t really want to, at least not without making it a way more elaborate thing than I initially thought about:)

TLDR: tuberculosis caused people to believe that exhumating their dead relatives would save them. Got spun into epic vampire tale when in reality, it was just trying to save your community from an epidemic.

[scribe-cas]

You can't just drop that you have an absolutely unhinged fact and not share it. So give up the weird fact, do eet.

.

.

EVERY WRITER HAS AT LEAST ONE. THIS IS COMMON KNOWLEDGE.

Okay fine I will give in

Okay, so.

I think my weirdest fact, just off the top of my head-

Has to be probably that the wendigo species lactates regularly. Like, with no prompting, pregnant or not. A tie between that and the fact that angels do not have genitalia, but instead, a small star system between their legs.

The wendigo one is weirder so that’s the one I’ll elaborate on.

Okay so

The reason for this is because at one point, some of the species were not given the option to go out and hunt fully grown humans. They were aggressive, harder to catch, and more willing to burn things down to be rid of any monsters.

However, murdering a child (while usually considered bad form anyways) while far easier to do, because you could simply go in, pick up this barely sentient being, and then get rid of it as long as it didn’t start screaming, didn’t provide them with nearly enough food to last off of, and the entire species of demon was slowly dwindling and dying out because of that.

So certain wendigos (there’s not a defining factor yet, although I’m thinking it’s those who were afab?) just somewhat regularly produce milk, because evolution’s solution to this was:

If you can’t kill the adults, but the children don’t give you enough meat-

Steal away a child, and then raise it to become an adult.

They, as wendigos, could essentially raise us like livestock.

And for a while, that was exactly what they did. Like as a species, collectively.

Now, things are a little different, as while we do have much more advanced weapons, we aren’t exactly using fire to light our homes and we definitely aren’t going to throw a lantern into one of our massive industrial sized buildings, because god forbid we have to build that shit again- we just won’t do it, we’ll go get a gun or something. Therefore, adults have become easier to hunt again, especially what with all of the cameras and gadgets that we now use to watch our children with- we have baby cams and the doorbells that let us see what’s at our door and household security systems- it is way easier to run face first into a car and just have an adult go missing than it is to actively scrounge up a child unless they’ve got particularly neglectful parents.

But, the milk gene never went away or dwindled off. It usually stays somewhat out of the way, but often flares up when a wendigo is under times of duress and stress.

Wendigo milk, designed to produce humans good for food, is actually massively full of nutritional value, increases our capacity to build muscle mass, assists our digestive system, and usually tastes vaguely sweet to encourage drinking. (Although the flavor from wendigo to wendigo is different, it’s really neat)

Most wendigos don’t struggle with this as much, but the more time you spend on earth/around humans, the more actively their systems think they need it. Usually, this isn’t an issue- but for some demons who choose to spend the majority of their time on earth, it can get uncomfortable if there’s no pressure release, but usually a nursing pump does the trick to minimize discomfort. You just then have. Milk lying around

This, shockingly enough, ties into multiple plot points of mine- none of which are important to the main story, technically? It doesn’t change anything drastically other than kinda one main detail and then a few background details. But I think its funny because it’s essentially an Easter egg for my friends and I, because all of them know this fact from when I was originally working on the series.

Anyways if you’d like more elaboration I am happy to give it, but for now I will put a cap on my rambling so that you can digest this unhinged mess first. /lh

Hopefully you don’t hate me for this, if you do, I’m sorry LMFAO I know my characters to a near uncomfortable level

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Fic Snippet: Twins Shopping

Okay, so, back when my knee first went zombie victim on me and I asked if there was anything I could do to make people happy, @elijahgeorgavic asked for a Thomas/Mary Twin snippet. Since my brain has threatened divorce if I so much as look at the Thomas-As-Heir fic at the moment*, I thought about scenes that didn't exist that could exist that didn't have room to exist and came up with the two of them shopping in Ripon. It was originally going to be a bit longer, but I decided I didn't like it and stopped here.

So here, @elijahgeorgavic, have some sibling banter.

Thomas slowed to a stop, his eyes on the reflection in the store window. There was something about the image in the glass that made it seem otherworldly, like he really had fallen down a rabbit hole. The clothes weren’t his, even though he’d gone to London and been fitted for them the previous week. The hat wasn’t anything he’d wear, even though he had purchased it on the same trip. Little details in the cut and quality kept catching his eye, drawing his attention to the stranger that was him.

He might have stood there for hours if Mary’s voice hadn’t cut through his thoughts, amused but with a sharp edge of exasperation. “I know footmen are supposed to be handsome, but if you don’t rein in your vanity, we’re never going to get any shopping done.”

Tearing his eyes away from the window, he gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry. I’m not actually admiring my reflection, I’m more being unnerved by it.” She arched here eyebrows and he elaborated. “It’s the clothes. They keep catching me off guard in the reflection.”

Tilting her head to the side, she looked him over. “I suppose I’m so used to changing fashion, I don’t think much of it if my dress is a different cut than I’m used to. The look well on you, at least.” Her lips quirked at the corners. “It’s obvious you spared no expense.”

“Well, can’t very well uphold the honour of the family if I’m not dressed appropriately, can I?” he quipped back, his mood lightning a bit. It was still odd to be bantering with her, of all people, but if he ignored the little voice in his head telling him that Carson would have his hide, it was a familiar enough interaction that it came naturally. “I have to look my best.”

“Your best?” The claim earned him a very arch look. “I don’t know about that. People might think us odd if you did your shopping in white tie.”

“Is that your way of saying I looked better in my livery?”

He’d meant it as a joke, but something must have slipped into his voice, something unintended, because she gave him a startled look that held no hint of laughter. For a moment she looked almost apologetic and he was going to explain that he’d not been serious when she said, very slowly and deliberately, “No. It’s more my way of saying you wear black well.”

“Oh, well.” Uncertain quite what to say to that, he settled on, “That’s one of the many things we have in common, then.”

With a smile that put them back on easy terms, she asked, “So, was there anything in particular you wanted to pick up while we were in town?”

*I keep telling it that if it will just finish the revisions we'll be done and it won't have to think about it ever again, but it won't listen...probably because it knows I'll just make it think about part two at that point. >.>

[nami-writes]

[ an apple | a day | (keeps the doctor) away ]

content warnings: abuse (w/ belt), starvation, begging, breakdown, crying, emeto, bad caretaker, brief suicidal ideation, self-injury (banging head against surface)

“Able to eat your lunch today?” Guard asks as soon as the previous guard rounds the corner. He brought two sandwiches today. After almost two weeks of offering Villain an apple for lunch, he finally decided that just an apple a day isn’t enough edible food to survive. No wonder all Villain does all day is sit slumped against the wall or laid on the floor. He can’t have enough energy to move much more.

“...Enough,” Villain mumbles. “Can I just, um, save it? For dinner. Dinner’s… harder.”

“No apple today. It wouldn’t be enough for dinner anyway.” Through the bars, he sees Villain’s face fall. “I meant I brought a sandwich instead.”

Confusion. “Oh.” Then his eyes light up just a little bit. “A… a sandwich?”

“Yeah. I usually eat one for lunch.” He holds one of the sandwiches up in front of the bars. “You sure you wanna save it for dinner?”

“Yes,” Villain says eagerly, “yes, please, sir.”

He shrugs. “If you say so.”

Villain doesn’t offer any more conversation. Fine by him. He assumes his position to the side of the door.

He has a much longer shift today. The night shift guard quit yesterday on too-short notice, just hours after news of the heroes’ latest loss spread. They needed a night shift guard and nobody else was up to the job. Guard accepted on the condition that he gets a break to eat dinner. So today, he stays overnight and goes home in the morning. He hopes sleeping in this morning will help him stay awake for the next couple of hours.

He eats one half of his sandwich as slowly as he can, just to drag out the time he spends eating it, but it doesn’t help. He eats the second half normally.

When that’s gone, he scrolls on his phone to pass the time. He hopes there’s no reason to be worried Villain will try anything stupid anymore, now that Guard is his only source of decent food.

Headlines on the heroes’ failure yesterday flood his screen as far as he can scroll. Something about a building destroyed in a fight, and not just because of the fight— intentionally used as a shield while people were still inside. An article clarifies what details are known; Supervillain beamed it down to get to the heroes hiding behind it. They couldn’t save the people inside the building and capture Supervillain at the same time. In the end, they accomplished neither.

That explained why they were all so worn out upon their return yesterday. They even seemed snappy when asking Guard to take the night shift. Unprofessional, he has to admit. They shouldn’t have been fighting anywhere near populated buildings anyway, much less using one as a shield.

The comments under the article are filled with criticism and concern. A few also work for the heroes and want to go on strike, force them to do more to repair the damage done. He shuts off his phone.

Villain lies motionless on the floor save for the rise and fall of his chest. Guard still can never tell when he’s awake. “Hey. You look like shit.”

His breathing stills and he opens his eyes. He looks like he’s torn between confusion and fear, like he isn’t sure if Guard is mad.

He gets to the point. “You sure you don’t want to eat now?” he asks. “Your sandwich is cut in half, you could have half now and half for dinner.”

“No,” he says too quickly, sitting up. “I-I won’t have enough for dinner. I just… want to save it until then. Please. Sir.”

He frowns. “Why is it so difficult for you to eat the food here anyway? I mean, it looks awful but it has to be edible, right?”

“Feel sick,” he mumbles.

“Every time you eat?”

He nods. He doesn’t elaborate.

“Why? Is the food really just that bad?”

He shrugs.

“Well, that’s helpful.”

“Sorry— I’m sorry, sir,” he says in a panic at Guard’s sarcasm. “I just— I-I don’t know, I swear. I don’t want to, to throw up every meal, I just, um, I can’t help it, I… they p-punish me for it, I’m not trying to— I wouldn’t do it if I could help it.”

He’s practically pleading for Guard to believe him at this point and Guard regrets the sarcasm. “Okay, I get it, I get it. You don’t know. I was just curious.”

“I-I’m not doing it to get food out of you, if— if that’s what you think—”

“I said I get it, alright?” Guard almost snaps but manages to keep his calm. It’s not that serious. Villain is just scared. “It’s fine.”

Villain swallows his concerns. “Yes sir. I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Maybe he shouldn’t have relied on Villain to help him pass the time. Now he’s just annoyed.

He can tell Villain wants to apologize again, probably beg for forgiveness too, but he steps away from the window and out of sight. Villain gets the message.

His dinner arrives some time later and Guard slides it under the door. Villain stares painfully at the tray. Then Guard slips in the bagged sandwich and Villain’s eyes light up with surprise.

“You— you’re still—?”

“What?”

Villain grasps at the words. “I thought— y-you seemed mad, I didn’t think— I thought you weren’t going to give me the sandwich, because I… I made you mad.”

“Christ, Villain, I’m not that petty,” he scoffs. “Just eat.”

Villain nods eagerly, picking up the sandwich. “Yes, sir!”

He checks the time. One of the heroes should be getting here anytime now to take his place so he can eat his own dinner.

Minutes pass and down the hall someone turns the corner. Hero. Finally. He walks down to meet him halfway, exchanges a polite nod and his thanks for taking over for a bit, and makes his way to the kitchen.

He’s not used to this kitchen, so he digs in the refrigerator and cabinets for something quick and easy to make. He settles for boxed macaroni and cheese. It takes barely half an hour to finish eating before he’s heading back to Villain’s cell.

And heading toward the sound of a familiar voice begging for mercy.

“Please! Please, I'm sorry!” Guard hears a snap and cries of pain. “I'm s-sorry! I won’t do it again, swear, I swear! I'm sorry, please, please!”

Guard breaks into a sprint. It’s undeniably Villain, and Hero is supposed to be watching him. Nobody else is in the hall. Did someone get past him?

Hero isn’t standing outside the cell when Guard gets there. Instead, the door is open and Hero’s back is to him, bright supersuit eerie in the dark cell. His arm is held up only to come down with the snap of what Guard is sure is a whip. Where the hell he got a whip from, Guard doesn’t know or care. “Hero? What’s going on?”

“Guard,” Hero turns and greets him halfheartedly. It’s not a whip. It’s a belt. “Where’d the sandwich come from?”

Villain’s cowering behind him, shirt off exposing his marred back streaked with blood as he sobs. Both halves of the barely-eaten sandwich sit on the floor by Hero’s feet, crushed under a dirty footprint. A pool of vomit dries next to Villain.

He forgot. He forgot. He isn’t supposed to be giving Villain food and he gave him the sandwich just before he switched out with Hero. They’re caught.

Still, Guard frowns, hardening his expression. “Me. I gave it to him.”

“I’m giving you one warning,” Hero scowls. “Your job is to guard this piece of shit. Not to mess with his diet. We keep him malnourished so he can’t break out and start wreaking havoc with Supervillain. Do this again, put everyone in this city at risk again, and I’ll put you in this cell myself.”

Anger twists in Guard’s gut but he holds his mouth in a tight line. “Understood.”

“Good.” He holds the belt out to him. “You want to finish him off?”

Villain’s eyes snap up and the pure terror and desperation behind the tears send a chill down Guard’s spine. “No. Thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

Hero threads the belt back through the loops on his pants and walks out, shutting the door behind him. “I’ll send a doctor in tomorrow night to make sure he doesn’t die.” He leaves without another word.

When Guard’s sure he's far enough away, he scrambles to unlock the door and rush inside, sidestepping the vomit. Villain’s crumpled in a ball on his knees, hands covering his head as he sobs. Fresh red welts and blood cover his back alongside old scars and bruises and what even looks like burn marks Guard has never seen.

“N-no more,” he whines pitifully. “Please, sir, please, no more, I'm sorry, I w-won’t do it again, I, I-I won’t, I won’t, please!”

He babbles inconsolably and trembles so hard Guard’s hesitant to touch him. He’s afraid the contact will make him blow up or fall apart, though right now it seems the latter is already happening.

“Please, ‘m sorry, s-sorry, I’m sorry…” Apologies fall out of his mouth almost faster than he can say them. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to stop.

“Hey,” he snaps his fingers, “it’s fine. Look. Hero’s gone. I’m not hurting you.” He doesn’t know what to do. This wasn’t in the job description. Maybe he shouldn’t have snapped his fingers— Villain isn’t a dog.

It gets his attention well enough, though. Fearful eyes lock onto Guard and his entire body freezes mid-plea, unsure whether to be even more terrified or relieved. Then he glances down at the puddle of vomit and the ruined sandwich and he settles for terror. “I’m sorry— I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, to get caught, I wasted t-the sandwich, he— he made me throw up so I c-couldn’t, couldn’t eat any of it, I couldn’t stop him, I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to waste it, I didn’t, I w-wasted it…”

He dissolves into sobs so incoherent Guard can’t make out words anymore. “It’s fine, Villain, really. It’s fine. It’s not your fault, I knew Hero was coming but I didn’t think ahead. I just, uh… god, what do I do? Should I leave you alone? Do you—”

“No,” he chokes out. “Please. Please, please don’t leave me. I-I don’t… I know I’m selfish, I s-shouldn’t ask, but— please. I can’t, I c-can’t do it anymore.”

“...Okay,” Guard says and sits down next to him. Careful not to touch the dirty shoe marks, he picks up each half of the sandwich and puts them both on the untouched dinner tray. “What can’t you do anymore?”

“I can’t stay here, I can’t stay like— like this,” he wails. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, they won’t just let me die!” He slams a fist on the ground but when that doesn’t offer enough relief he bangs his head into the ground instead.

“Hey!” Guard’s hands shoot out to grab his shoulders and hold him back from a second attempt. “Shit! Don’t do that!”

He flinches hard at the sudden hold on him and almost twists away but thinks better of it. “Sorry, I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry.” He sniffles, wipes his eyes and then his face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just stop apologizing. And don't do that again.” Villain gives a small nod in response and Guard takes his hands off of him. For a second, he thinks Villain tries to follow his touch.

It’s pitiful. It’s awful, really. Villain has been here for a while, around a year or two before Guard came around, but details of his captivity have never been released. Now he sees why. He’s a husk of the villain he once was. He’s a husk of the person he once was, and just two weeks ago he wouldn’t have seen Villain as a person at all.

“I, uh… I want to help,” he starts. He doesn’t know where he’s going with this.

“You can’t.” Though his voice is hoarse, Villain says it so simply. “The only way you could help is if you broke me out, and… you can’t do that. You won’t.”

“Give me a day.”

They’re both surprised at the declaration, but Guard doubles down.

“One day, and I’ll have you out by tomorrow night,” he says. “That’s all I need.”

Villain stares. “But— you’ll lose your job. I-I’m a criminal, you’ll get yourself in trouble with the law and with the Heroes, it’ll just be a waste of your time and they’ll catch me anyway and hurt us both and—”

“Hey, calm down,” he says before Villain can spiral further. “I’ll… figure something out. Just trust me.”

He knows it’s unconvincing but Villain swallows as he contemplates the offer. He searches Guard’s face for any sign of a lie. “Don't— please don't give me hope. You’re the only… nobody's been k-kind to me in, in so long, and you— you don’t know what the Heroes can do.”

“Other than beat you?” The blood trickles down his back now that he’s sitting up.

“This isn’t the worst of it,” he mumbles. “This isn’t that bad at all.”

“You’re bleeding,” Guard counters. “You might get an infection sitting in this dirty cell. You should go to the infirmary. We shouldn’t wait until tomorrow, maybe they can—”

“No!” He recoils like Guard hit him. “No, don’t, please, don’t take me to the infirmary. Please, they’ll just make it worse.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine. I won't take you there. But you should get your injuries checked out. Your back doesn't look good.”

“It’s fine,” he almost pleads. “It's not that bad. It’ll be fine. I don’t need the infirmary. And I don't need Hero to send a doctor. I just… I just need everything to stop.”

“...Okay,” Guard sighs. “Okay. Just give it a day.”

Villain nods, resigned, and then guiltily eyes the drying vomit. “The, um, janitor should be coming soon. ‘M sorry, about that. I didn't mean to, I didn't… I didn't know you'd be coming back.”

“Don't be. I get it. Night shift was news to me too.”

He leaves Villain to curl up on his side in the cell. He's right; the janitor comes soon enough, cleans up what hasn't dried to the floor already and takes the tray with uneaten prison food and the stomped-on sandwich. All that's left to prove any of this ever happened is the new stain on the floor that'll soon blend in with the old ones and the welts on Villain’s back that'll be gone in a few days. To Guard, this was an awful thing to witness, but to Villain, this must've just been a regular fucking Tuesday. He doesn't even know how often this really happens.

Still, at least Guard was here this time. At least he could be here for Villain, just this one time.