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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months

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Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Chapter title from American Idiot by Green Day.

Word Count: 5.8k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Soldier Boy is woken up, and you have to deal with the pitfalls of your idea. Contains usual tags.

Read on A03!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

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When he was forced into this type of sleep, Ben didn’t dream. This type of sleep was more like death, with no part of him alive in any way that mattered. But in the few seconds before he woke, with chemicals leaving his system and consciousness returning, he felt pain.

Borderline unbearable, exhaustive and consuming pain. The last few times he had been woken up, the pain had made the bomb in his chest start to tick, tick, tick, building up and up, off the beat from his heart until they found a rhythm, and he would explode.

It never relieved all that pain, but fuck him if it wasn’t cathartic.

Every time he had woken up in Russia, he’d fought the scientists like a fucking animal. When that assfuck, traitorous Brit and his cum guzzling team had found him, Ben hadn’t hesitated to use teeth and fire, hellbent on getting out, on getting home. This time wasn’t any different, the beat in his chest was already banging against his ribs, save for the stark exception of his surroundings.

He wasn’t in a clean lab or disgusting tube. He was in a suburban living room, complete with potted plants, one of those new and weirdly flat TVs, and some of the most boring paintings of roses he had ever fucking seen. Not a single person was in sight, no tubes were hooked to his body, and no cannon barrels or gas-filled vents sat in his vision. A small part of him hesitated, wondering if he was suddenly dreaming, his body having adapted to fight back and allow him some hazy peace. But the fever in his chest was growing, and there was no goddamn world where he would ever find suburbia and floral-patterned carpets peaceful. No, this was someone’s attempt to trick him, to make him compliant. Maybe Vought, maybe the Reds, maybe the CIA, didn’t matter. They all died the same.

The nuclear explosion from his chest lit the room, tearing out of him with a rush. Ben braced himself for bullets and grenades as his captors realized their little plan had failed, but none came. And as the dust cleared, he realized that not only were there no soldiers dropping from the sky or weapons hurling at his body, but everything was… exactly the same. Well, the plants had been burnt to a crisp, but that was the only evidence of his power having ripped through the room. The TV was still smooth and clean, the sofa hadn’t moved an inch, and the paintings hung evenly on the walls.

What the fuck.

He paused, the drum in his chest having stilled, and listened. Bird song, running water below the floor, electrical hums through the walls, and…

There it was.

Heartbeats.

Five heartbeats. All sped up, all bouncing around in the chests of their owners. Three moved heavily and quickly, one rapid and staggered—that one reeked of terror—and one beat only a single mark off from steady, almost as if it were devoid of any fear. Interesting.

Ben searched the room for a camera, but settled on looking in the direction of the heartbeats.

“I know you’re there,” he drawled. “I can fuckin hear you. Come out, you pussies.”

There was a pause, all five heartbeats having stuttered at his words, before a door creaked down the dark, sconce lined halls, and footsteps sounded towards him.

The people who stepped from the shadows into the living room should thank the Lord that Ben didn’t kill them the moment they were in the light. Grace Mallory, the thin-lipped bitch, watched him wearily, with the backstabbing Billy Butcher to her left. Only a step behind them was the blonde broad that had blasted him in the face at Vought Tower, accompanied by her and Butcher’s gangly cocksucker. The only one he didn’t recognize stood at the very front, a woman who was looking at him with sharp eyes, arms crossed in front of her body and legs planted apart. This was the holder of the steady heart, unsurprisingly given her collected stance and cold gaze. It was almost amusing, the way she was looking at him, like she was a lion and he was a gazelle, like if she glared her lovely eyes at Ben enough, he might drop dead. But he turned his eyes from her tiny fury to Butcher and Mallory, giving them a smirk that made his murderous intentions clear.

“What the fuck is this?”

It was Butcher who answered, returning the false smile. “This is an intervention, mate. You have a problem, and we’re here to help.”

“The only problem I have is you. If you had half a brain, you’d start running.”

“Really? Because to me,” Butcher’s smile didn’t falter as he gestured around the room. “It seems like you’re having some performance issues.”

“Don’t make him angry,” the cocksucker mumbled from the back. Butcher only rolled his eyes in response.

“This, Soldier Boy, is an opportunity. We’re giving you a second chance to help us with Homelander.” Mallory said, watching Ben carefully.

“A second chance?” It was Ben’s turn to roll his eyes. “You should be grateful that I might not kill you all when I leave.”

“I’d start playing nice, Soldier Boy.” The blonde stepped forward with a scowl. “You don’t have the upper hand here."

"Oh, please, you blast me down once and think you’re some sort of god? You caught me off guard that time, doll. This time, you won’t be so lucky.”

Blondie opened her mouth to retaliate, but Butcher snorted first, a newer, more twisted grin on his face.

“Starlight’s no god, but she is,” Butcher nudged the steady-hearted newcomer forward. “Meet your new babysitter. Go on, Love, say hello.”

The woman stumbled slightly at the push, her already strong frown deepening, and had barely turned her anger to Butcher when Ben started to laugh. All eyes fell to him as he gave a loud snort of amusement, a broad grin on his face.

“Jesus,” he wheezed. “Didn’t think you were funny, Butcher, but that’s a fucking riot.”

“We’re being serious,” Starlight snapped. “You answer to her now.”

“Yeah,” Ben rolled his eyes, giving his alleged keeper a once over. “Sure. Sunshine over here is going to stop me from ripping all your heads off your bodies. Fuck, she won’t even stop me leaving this room.”

“Wanna bet?”

Ben paused as the woman spoke for the first time. It wasn’t just her heartbeat that was level and even. Her voice was smooth, unbreaking and calm with not a trace of anxiety. Her eyes were still watching him coldly, her pretty face set like a mask.

“Excuse me?”

“Would you like to bet that I can’t stop you?” She repeated slowly, as if he were a child. “I’d advise you not to, but I don’t think you’d care for my opinion.”

“You think you can stop me, Sunshine? Are you fucking stupid?”

“No, but I don’t think my intelligence matters here. You’re not walking out that door.”

Part of Ben wanted to start laughing again. At her blatant lack of self-preservation to go up against him and not flinch. At her smooth claim of intelligence but painfully clear lack of understanding about the situation she was in. At her companions, who had all stepped back, undoubtedly realizing that their gambit had failed and leaving her in his line of fire.

Part of him wanted to be quick and brutal, make her an example before he left. But it wasn’t worth it, and her face was too nice to ruin, so he settled to just walk past her. He’d kill Butcher on his way out and figure out what he wanted to do from there.

He only had to take three long strides to reach the hall, making to just move past the woman, but she side-stepped, blocking his path. Ben looked down at her, finding his amusement at her misguided boldness fading into annoyance.

“Move, Sunshine. I’ll only ask once.”

She met his glare, no break in her resolve. “I’d say the same to you, Grampa.”

“I’m warning you. I’m not above hitting a lady.”

“I thought you were only going to ask once.”

That was it. Ben moved to grab her, to shove her aside and end her pointless little charade. He didn’t have time for her frivolous, self-indulgent bullshit, he had tried to warn her, and at this point her blood was really just on her own hands.

It happened fast. He reached to push her, she didn’t flinch, her face looking almost bored as Ben lunged, and his hand had barely landed on her arm before he let go, recoiling from her with a roar.

“What the fuck!” He looked at his hand, now raw and red, with blisters fading as soon as they had formed. His gaze shot to the woman’s unbothered face, she herself having neither flinched nor wavered. “Did you just fucking burn me?”

“I warned you,” she said. “I don’t play games I can’t win.”

Ben looked past her, where the small group remained, having retreated down the hall. Butcher’s face was painted with deep amusement as Starlight and Mallory held twin looks of satisfaction. Only the cocksucker still looked afraid, but his nervous eyes were trained on the woman, as though she might blow to pieces at any second.

“Somebody better start talking,” Ben growled.

“We tried to tell you, Governor,” Butcher said with an overly dramatic sigh. “She’s in charge here.”

“You think this will hold me? I-“

“You were unprepared, we got lucky, it won’t happen again. We all heard the speech you gave Annie.” The woman cut him off with a snort. “You need to start getting it into your head. You do not have the upper hand. The sooner you do, the sooner we can actually do something productive instead of peacocking like idiots.”

Ben stared at her, the drum in his chest growing loud once more, his anger serving as fuel. He didn’t bother to try and control it, simply letting it set to his heart and build and build. Just before the sound could drown out all his other senses, he heard the woman yell.

“Everyone out!” Her voice was slightly alarmed, but laced with no panic. And as the door slammed down the hall, Ben realized her heartbeat hadn’t retreated. She was still right in front of him. He hoped this hurt.

As the smoke cleared, Ben opened his eyes to, tragically and annoyingly, see the woman completely intact, unbothered, and in one piece. Most he could tell, she had only taken a step back.

“Are you done?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Bitch,” he said. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“Lovely,” she sighed. “You just tried that. Didn’t work. Won’t work. Not on me. Like I said before you started acting like a toddler, the sooner you accept that, the sooner we can help each other.”

“How could you possibly help me?”

She grinned. “I’m so glad you asked. Hughie! You’re up!”

The skinny little coward appeared over her shoulder, anxiety painted over his face. “Can’t Mallory or Butcher do this?”

“Nah, Mallory has a powerful resting-hater-face, and Butcher would get himself killed all over me, which would be gross. I don’t need that right now.”

The cocksucker pouted. “Annie?”

“No, I don’t think he’s her biggest fan, especially after the whole tower thing-“

“Stop talking about me like I’m not right fucking here,” Ben cut in.

“Fine, you baby. Hughie,” the woman nudged Cocksucker forward. “Give him the pitch.”

Ben didn’t listen to Cocksucker as he rambled, catching only the beginning and electing to ignore him once the words “article B-55XP2 allows” were said. Instead, he focused on the woman, whose brow was furrowed as she listened to her companion talk. Small tendrils of smoke were rising from her body, and Ben noted the way Cocksucker stood off to the side, attempting to somehow paradoxically hold and elude both Ben’s and the woman’s attention. Her lips were in a tight line now, and she was hugging herself slightly, curving into her own body. The smoke from her had begun to choke the room, and though Ben could hear her level heartbeat, he could also hear her gnaw on her lower lip and the tap of her foot on the floor. When her gaze abruptly slid to his, Ben held it unblinkingly, and the crease in her brow only deepened.

Before Ben could figure out what sat behind her sharp eyes, Cocksucker let out a cough and said a name that made the woman turn.

“Can you turn it down, please?”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Hughie,” she mumbled, taking another step back as Cocksucker gave a nod of thanks.

“So the big thing to know…” Once again, Ben didn’t hear whatever it was being said. No, he was now fully staring at the woman, her name playing in his head. It wasn’t a supe name, like how Butcher had referred to Blondie. Almost every supe Ben had known preferred being called by their fancy little brand name, but he hadn’t even learned if this bitch had one. Fuck, he hadn’t even heard of her. Last time he had been introduced to a large number of new players, most of them weak, whining pussies with pathetic powers, but this woman was far from pathetic. He hadn’t heard anything about a fire-supe, let alone a doll faced, angry, bitchy one who had to have the resting heart rate of a whale. He bet he could pick it up to match the Cocksuckers, if he really tried. He bet he could make her scream, maybe from being ripped limb from limb, maybe from cumming her brains out all over him. A smirk started to grow on his face as he imagined it, her ice-queen demeanor crumbling from his irresistible charm-

“Are you fucking listening?” The woman herself broke him from his thoughts, her fingers snapping in his face.

“No,” Ben sneered. “Why should I?”

“Well, if you’d pay Hughie half the attention you seem to be paying to my tits, you’d be able to answer your own dumb question.”

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself-“

“Please, I’ve been told you stick your dick in anything with a hole.” She cut him off again, an action that, if she kept it up, would result in her being punched. “Tell you what, I’ll get you a real nice watermelon to play with if you just fucking listen.”

“Fine.”

She paused, but was thrown for only a second. “Ok, great, Hughie-“

“But you do the talking.”

She almost snorted. “Are you that fucking crow-brained that you can’t listen unless it’s something shiny?” She paused. “Sorry Hughie. No offense, you’re plenty shiny.”

The Cocksucker, Ben knew his name was Hughie at this point but couldn’t find himself fucked to use it, just shrugged. “No offense taken.” His attention shifted back to Ben. “Will you really listen if she talks?”

“She talks like a person. You talk like a boring army manual.”

“Could’ve just said book,” Cocksucker said with a frown, but stepped back nonetheless.

“This is fucking stupid,” the woman said with a glare that was somehow stronger than before.

“You wanted me to listen to your stupid little sales pitch, Sunshine. This is what will make me listen.”

She rolled her eyes further back than Ben had ever seen before, but started to speak, her voice dripping with contempt.

“Here’s the deal. You help us with our Homelander problem, we give you immunity for all the definite war crimes you’ve committed and keep you from being Sleeping Beauty for a third time. You’ll stay here, with me, until we have a clear and safe shot at Homelander. You’ll do your little Oppenheimer magic trick, and we’ll take care of the rest. After Homelander's dead, you’ll be free to leave America for good, and live out your shitty immortal life on some stupid island where no one knows who you are.” As she came to the end of her speech, Ben grinned at her.

“See? Wasn’t so hard.”

She didn’t even blink. “Any questions?”

“Questions? Nah. But you should know, this is fucking stupid, and I’m not participating in it. All I’ll get is a vacation, and I could have that right fucking now.”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you can’t leave this room, let alone go on vacation. And I’d say what you’d ‘get’,” she used air quotes, and Ben wondered if he could throw her out a window. “Is us not knocking you out right now.”

“Also immunity,” Cocksucker piped up.

She nodded. “Also immunity. We’re offering you this once.” She gave him a sickly-sweet smile. “Act now and we’ll throw in a second watermelon.”

“I’ll fucking break out.” Ben snarled.

“Take your best shot. This safe house is more durable than a cold-war bunker, inside and out.”

“I’ll kill your team.”

“Try it. I’ll burn off your money maker.”

“I’ll heal.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.”

“I’ll go back to Vought.”

“Please, you hate them almost as much as me.”

“I doubt that.”

Her voice was coated in visceral, hot rage when she answered. “Don’t.”

Ben paused at that, squinting at her. “Why do you hate them?”

She shrugged. “Not your concern. But for the record, if you did try something that ass-brained, I wouldn’t just burn your face.”

Ben almost flinched when he saw her eyes flick down.

“What if I fail?”

“You won’t.” Her tone made it clear that there wasn’t room for debate.

“What if I want to stay here after, then?” Ben snapped. “I just spent forty years away. I’m not going again.”

“Fucking earn it.”

Ben let out a slow breath. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew when he was backed into a corner. But he had been against walls that were far more dangerous, and far more painful. He would play this little game until he figured out how to take her, the only player aside from him that mattered, out. But he wasn’t going to make any of this pleasant. If they wanted pleasant, they shouldn’t have crossed him in the first place.

“I want my fucking shield and suit back.”

She smiled with teeth for the first time. “I’ll see what I can do.”

——-

This had been a mistake. Now that everyone had left, you could admit—to yourself and no one else—that this was a stupid, arrogant mistake.

The first day had been… rough. There were three bedrooms, all with identical queen beds and equally generic decor. Solider Boy had insisted on laying on all of them to “test their durability." When you had told him they were all the exact same, he had called you an “uncultured hick." You had explained that you were from Boston and currently lived in New York, two urban areas that rendered “hick” an unsuitable title for you, offering “street trash” as a replacement. He told you he’d call you whatever he wanted, utilizing his nickname of “Sunshine” once again. You reminded him of your threat to burn off his favorite part of himself, he said that you would be only depriving yourself of it, and you left the conversation before you could make good on the promise.

Eventually he came down the stairs and gruffly told you that the bedroom with the attached bathroom was his, before stomping back into the said room to do something undoubtedly disgraceful .

Day two was only worse. You had collapsed in the bedroom with the five horse paintings, as it had been closest to the stairs, and you were exhausted from a day of verbal sparring and worrying if you’d have to go back to MM, tail between your legs, and admit you’d been wrong. Now, having gotten a whopping 4 hours of restless sleep, you just wanted coffee. Mallory told you she would send someone to drop groceries overnight, the safe house door having a bank-like slot for packages, and she had made good on her word. You had been able to tell this because when you walked into the kitchen, it looked like a food bomb had detonated.

“What the shit is this?” You said, your voice more tired than angry.

Soldier Boy, sitting at the counter, glared at you. “You’re up late.”

“It’s 7am. In nobody’s world is that ‘late’.”

“I’ve been up for 2 hours.”

You shrugged. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“I had to eat a sandwich.”

“Yeah, that happens.” You survey the mess for anything that you can use, hoping to see a box of cereal buried somewhere. You find what you’re looking for, along with some coffee that you put into the filter and stare at with blank exhaustion. In your sleepy haze, you block out Soldier Boy’s ramblings of hunger and shitty, crunchy peanut butter, hoping he tires himself out and leaves you alone.

You were startled out of your head by the sound of your name.

"Huh?"

“Whatever you’re making, I want some too.” That gets through to you, and your head snaps up.

“How do you know my name?”

"Cocksucker said it."

"Cocksucker?"

"The little puppy that follows Butcher and Starlight around."

"Hughie?"

"Sure." He rolled his eyes. “So, what are we eating?"

"We?"

"I asked you, very nicely, to cook me some of whatever you're making too. Or are you fucking deaf?"

“I’m not cooking anything.”

His brow knit in confusion. “You’re not going to eat? I thought all the feminist shit stopped that.”

“I’m going to eat, Jackass. But I’m not going to cook anything, I’m just going to throw cereal and milk into a bowl. You can do that yourself.” You decided not to touch the feminist comment, focusing on pouring your coffee instead.

“Well, what are you going to cook for lunch.”

“Well, if Mallory followed my list, I’ll heat up chicken tenders.”

“Dinner?”

You tilt your head. “Not sure. That’s like, twelve hours away.”

“But you’ll. You’ll cook something.”

“No.”

“Why?”

You sighed. “I don’t know how to cook.”

“What?!” He looked horrified now. It would almost be funny, if it were any other circumstances. “How?”

“I never learned.”

“But you’re a woman!”

“Yeah, no. We’re not having this conversation.” You turned on your heels to leave the room, coffee in hand, trying to ignore the hot feeling bubbling under your skin. You paused only to call back over your shoulder. “And clean up your fucking mess!”

Thankfully, after that, the morning was uneventful. You avoided Soldier Boy, he avoided you. All the way into lunch, you were almost able to forget your situation.

Almost.

“Fuck!” You tripped over a bag of apples on the floor, your eyes having been glued to your phone as you entered the kitchen. You looked around, seeing the mess from this morning sitting just as you’d left it.

“Keep it down!” Soldier Boy’s voice carried down the stairs. You ignored his request, raising your voice to a shriek.

“Get your manwhore ass down here right now, before I make you!”

You stepped further into the room, the bubbling feeling returning, and surveyed the area that somehow looked worse than before. Picking through the melted frozens, scattered produce, and loose cans and boxes, a dirty knife and plate on the counter.

“What the fuck is a manwhore,” he grumbled as he walked through the door.

“What the hell is this?” You ignored his question, gesturing around you.

He frowned. “The kitchen.”

“No, you ass. Why is all the food still out.”

He glared at you. “Because I’m already doing enough for your sorry ass, I’m not cleaning too.”

“You didn’t even put away your dishes!”

Soldier Boy just gave you an annoyed look, turning to walk away. Your vision went red.

“Shit!” He howled, running backwards into the room before turning with a glare. “You bitch!”

It took you a second to understand what he was talking about. You only managed to clue in from the fading scars on his face, and the realization that the feeling in you had boiled over.

If you were a better, less tired and angry person, you might have apologized. Thank god you weren’t.

“I am not going to spend the next who-knows-how-many months cleaning up after you. If you want to make this as difficult as possible, turn this house into a shithole, feel fucking free. I won’t stop you.”

“You don’t know how many months we’ll be here?”

“There’s a lot of moving parts to this operation that don’t concern you, and-“ You held up your hand as he started to interject. “That’s not the point. Clean up.”

“You should be thankful I’m even still here, you bitch. If it matters so much to you, do it yourself.” He growled back.

“Are you really that fucking stupid, or did you not just hear me say that this is not my mess to clean?! Either you do it, or it doesn’t get done.”

“You couldn’t make me with a million dollars and a blowjob.”

“Good thing I’m not offering either.”

A cold silence settled in the room, your arms crossed over your chest, trying to keep yourself from exploding once more. His glare had developed a murderous glint in his eyes, his fists clenched at his side.

“Bitch.”

You raised your chin. “Cunt.”

“You know, if I didn’t think it’d be a shame to ruin such a nice face, I’d slam you into the oven and burn yours off.”

“Oh, so you are that stupid.”

“Watch yourself.” He said your name in a low voice, taking a rough step forward.

“Sorry, for a second there I thought you said you believed you could burn a supe with fire powers. I must’ve misheard you.”

“I could make this very painful for you.”

“As opposed to your cheery compliance so far?”

“Do you think I’m just going to roll over?” He hissed, taking another step forward. “Be you and Butcher’s little lap dog?”

Something grew taut in your gut, but you held his gaze. “I think that if you don’t back the fuck up, I won’t make you roll over so much as physically harm you until you’re crying on the floor.”

"You're fighting a war you can’t win, Sunshine. I’ll kick your ass.” He sneered. “I’ll make you sob back home to Daddy Butcher.”

Your blood felt cold, your jaw almost cracking from the pressure in your chest. “So do it. Or move.”

Soldier Boy’s face was a portrait of rage, and you felt like he was dissecting with his cold green eyes. Looking for any weakness, any exploitable fallacy on your mask, any crack in your head that he could pry open and fill with poison. Make your lungs collapse into your ribs, make you claw and claw in desperation-

“Hm,” he grunted. He pulled himself to his full height before turning and leaving, leaving your anger sizzling at nothing. You watched as Soldier Boy, with controlled and rigid movements, stepped away from you, leaving the room without another word. Leaving you in the slop of the kitchen. He was getting further and further away from you, too far you to do anything about it, except maybe-

Before you could stop yourself, your hands were wrapped around the knife on the counter and the knife was flying across the room. It bounced off of Soldier Boy's back with a pitiful sound, but he stopped in his path, turning slowly. He glanced down, eyes finding the abandoned utensil on the floor before he dragged his gaze back to you.

“Did you just throw a fucking knife at me?”

“Clean up.”

He stared at you with the same eyes as before, the only betrayer of his emotions the twitch of a muscle in his jaw.

“It’ll take more than a bad throw to make me pussy enough to be your maid, Sunshine.” With that, he was gone.

———-

Ideally, the woman Ben would be forced into a lockdown with would be fun. She would give him sweet smiles and syrupy words, laugh at his jokes, and sprout similar ones. She wouldn’t be a sulking, useless, bitter prude whose greatest talent seemed to be finding issue with every word out of his mouth. Every time they had spoken, he had felt that beat in his ribs grow and grow, and it was nothing short of a fucking miracle it hadn’t gone off.

He hadn’t cleaned the kitchen, and he wouldn’t. It was beneath him, and she was the one who had chosen to be here, not him. In a brief moment of weakness, the stench from the rotten produce almost breaking his resolve, Ben had eyed a vacuum cleaner, only to realize he couldn’t use it if he wanted to. There were far too many buttons, weird twisty things lining the handle and bag, and he would take the first flight to Russia before he asked her for help.

They skirted around each other with success for two days after the knife incident, sneaking into the kitchen at odd hours to look for somehow edible food and leaving every possible door in the house locked behind them. A beautiful and well executed arrangement, broken only by her sudden appearance in the living room a few days later, standing behind him as he watched TV.

“We need to talk.” When Ben didn’t answer, she walked around the sofa, and grabbed the remote, turning off the screen. “Now.”

Ben scowled. “I was busy.”

“Watch a re-run of Jeopardy? With categories you don’t even understand?” She crossed her arms in front of him.

“I understood enough.”

She snorted. “One of the categories was ‘Celebrity-Inspired Products’. Name one modern, non-supe celebrity.”

Ben paused. “Marlon Brando.”

“Marlon Brando died in 2004.”

“Gene Wilder.”

“2016.”

“That one funny guy who was on the rise. In that stupid book movie.” Ben frowned. “William Robinson.”

She titled her head. “William Robinson… Do you mean fucking Robin Williams.”

“I was close,” Ben said with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, not really, cause he died in 2014. Now can we please talk.”

“Are you here to apologize?”

“Yes, actually.”

That got Ben’s attention. “Well then. Go on."

She had started to chew her lip again, her nose wrinkling like she smelled something bad. Though, to be fair, she probably did. The milk in the kitchen had become a problem. “I am sorry.” She took a needlessly labored breath through her nose. “I shouldn’t have thrown the knife at you. It was childish.”

Ben waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, he leaned forward. “That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“So you’re going to clean the kitchen?”

She let out a dry laugh. “Nope.”

Ben lounged back. “Then your apology is worthless.”

The now-familiar look of anger had returned to her face. “I am not your maid.”

“And I’m not yours.”

“I didn’t make the mess. And I’m not going to clean it just because you think you’re better than me.”

“I don’t think I’m better than you,” He retorted. “I am better than you.”

“Because you’re a man?” She jeered. “A big whiny baby with muscles?”

“Because I built up the company that gave you your little sparkle show. I am Vought. Those ungrateful backstabbing assholes wouldn’t be anywhere without me.”

She fell silent at that, the victory pumping its fists inside Ben’s head slowing the drum in his chest. If he had observed one thing about her, it was that there was almost never a time she lacked in words. Also, she listened to her stupid music deafeningly loud and had an impressive arm. He had felt that knife hit him, sharp end first, right on his spine, still burning from the heat of her touch. Another deep breath escaped her, a fog that had formed on her face clearing.

“Power and greatness have nothing to do with cleaning. Vought won’t hear about your refusal to run a dish washer and grovel on their knees for your forgiveness.”

“Because when I’m through with them, they won’t have knees.” Ben smiled at the fanstasy on a wheel-chair bound Stan Edgar.

“No, because they couldn’t give a shit about it. I don’t love being here any more than you, but I have to be. This is a marriage of convenience, so we-“

He snorted. “I'm not marrying you, Sunshine. You’re pretty, but too much of a bitch for my taste.”

“It’s an expression, you fucking idiot. It means a weary alliance hinging on a favor. We don’t need to like each other, but we can’t kill each other, or this will be a net loss.“

“Sure.” Ben gave her his cockiest grin. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“You couldn’t handle me, Grampa.” Despite her mocking voice, her small step back didn’t escape Ben’s notice. Though her heart was steady, he dismissed it as anxiety. Obviously, nobody had helped her relieve any of that clear, needless stress plaguing her in a while. He would. Make this whole situation a little more bearable. Maybe, once she had a good fuck, she’d turn out to be just half as pleasant as his fantasy.

“I fucked Marilyn Monroe. I almost made her leave that pussy, Kennedy. You’d be lucky if I looked at you.”

“I’d say I’m lucky right now. You’re too busy trying to fuck your own reflection to look anywhere else.”

“And my reflection thanks me every fucking night.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” she gave him a toothy, arrogant smile. Ben knew she thought she’d won.

“If you ever want someone to pull that stick out of your ass, I’d be happy to help.”

Her smile faltered quickly, but was plastered back onto her face just as fast. “I’m sure it’ll fall out on its own.”

“In case it doesn’t, my door is open.”

“Thought I was a bitch?”

“You said we didn’t need to like each other to get hitched-”

“Never said hitched.”

“So if you ever want to ‘not like each other,’” he winked at her. “As hard as possible, my door is open. I’m a gentleman, you’d have fun.” He reached to take her, and he had hardly brushed their fingers when she jumped back, recoiling like he was covered in warts.

For the first time, Ben thought that the look on her face might be fear. She rubbed her hand like it had been burned, a part of him thought she might bite through her lips, and her heart had become erratic. But when she spoke, her voice was just as level as always.

“Clean your dishes, and keep your door fucking closed. Or next time I throw a knife, I’ll aim for your eye, and I won’t miss.”

She stomped up the stairs, the room lingering with smoke long after she left.

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jaydedstories24 · 5 months

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For who YOU are– Michael Langdon AHS apocalypse

Summary: after Cordelia kills Ms mead Michael Langdon kills the other witches but takes the reader hostage when he sees that the others have escaped. For the first time in Michael’s life, someone wants to know what he wants.

Warnings: kidnapping, being held hostage, Burning someone at the stake, swearing, talk of abuse.

Word count: 1.6+

Tags: @ajokeformur-ray

Y/n POV

“where did you guys go?” I say to everyone that's just walked in the door.

“To take care of a problem, dear” Myrtle says.

“and is there a reason why you went without me but everyone else” I asked.

I take a look at Zoe, Madison, queenie, Mallory and Cordelia they're all dressed in black.

“ You burnt someone at the stake didn't you” I accuse.

“Yes y/n if you must know we burnt someone at the stake” Cordelia walked passed me.

“Who” I asked.

Cordelia hasn't really spoken to me or has been really arrogant since Michael came into our lives apparently I'm the only one here that doesn't see him what everyone else says he is.

“Who” I yelled.

“the old lady with the black hairstyle” Madison answers.

“Ms. Mead you killed Ms. why on earth would you do that” I freak out.

“To show Michael that I’m done messing around with him” Cordelia says

Taking her by surprise I put both of my hands on the side of her head and forced myself into her memories.

Flashes, the burning, the smell of charred flesh.

“I will kill you all” Michael promised.

I take my hands off of Cordelia.

“I am your supreme you may have gifts that the others don’t but you will not use them on me” she orders.

“Some supreme you are you’ve practically signed our death certificates with that you do understand right? At least Fiona would’ve made a truce with him” I yell.

“Do not use my mother against me y/n” Cordelia scolds.

“I have gifts you don’t that is correct it’s also why I told you not to attack Michael everything I saw everything I warned you about” I told Cordelia.

“What you saw maybe true but that side of Michael is long gone I gave him a chance today and he turned it down” Cordelia replied.

“Of course he did you killed the one person he thought who loved him what did you think that you were going to walk off arm in arm, embrace the coven that killed the closest thing to he ever had to a mother. I don’t think he would want to bake cookies with you Cordelia” I spat

“I’m strong enough to take him y/n” Cordelia says.

“That’s a laugh” I smiled.

I turned around to walk back up the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going Missy?” Cordelia questioned.

“To paint my nails so that they’re fresh for my inevitable death, are you coming Madi? I invite her.

“No, this shits crazy I’m out for what it’s worth y/n I hope you live you’re the only one I like around here.” She walks out the front door.

“When Michael comes here and trust me he will. I won’t fight him and I won’t protect you” I warn

I walked upstairs.

Red.

Red I think is a fantastic colour to paint your nails before you die. I think painting them black is just a little on the nose.

It has started my blood runs cold I can hear the witches downstairs especially the younger ones calling out for me. But if I have any chance of being able to really meet Michael for who he is I can’t do anything. So I put my headphones on and paint my last nail.

I look up when I smell the metallic scent that blood gives off.

Michael stands at my door my breath hitches. It’s different looking into Michael’s eyes they’re look hardened much unlike the sweet past version I saw him as in murder house. However they still have the Same jaded look on his face

He stands there for a moment before racing towards me I only flinch when he blows black dust into my face.

Floating? I feel I’m floating I don’t open my eyes I’m too tired and strangely I’m at peace.

I feel someone put me on what feels like a wooden chair and put something on my wrist.

My head rolls forward and I wake up.

“Thank Satan I thought you were going to sleep forever then you wouldn’t have been very helpful to me” Michael says.

“Yeah well that stuff smells like goats ass” I say half smart.

“No that would be me actually” he tells me.

Now that he says that it gives me a moment to take in his appearance disheveled, dirty but mostly he looks broken.

“Listen Michael I know you’re going through a hard time–“ I start.

“A hard time your witches killed my Ms mead and now you’re going to help me” he yells.

“I’m not going to be much help to you” I say quietly.

“You will help me whether you like it or not” he towers over me.

To my surprise I don’t quiver when he stands over me.

“You see when the witches when they notice you’re gone they will have to come out of hiding and look for you” he tells me.

“No they won’t we got into a disagreement. I’ve been arguing with the coven for months now” I disagree with him.

There’s a look in his eyes that proves he wants to believe me but some part that thinks he can’t after everything he’s been through.

I struggle with the rope’s around my wrists. They start burning.

“They’re cursed ropes they won’t hurt you unless you try to escape” he says.

In this moment I found that interesting he doesn’t intend to hurt me. I stop resisting and relax.

“You say that the coven has had a disagreement with you. What could possibly cause that much of a rift that they wouldn’t protect their own” he asks me.

Michael sits down on a wooden box waiting for my answer.

“You, we had a disagreement about you” I answered hesitantly.

He leans forward slightly, “what about me?”

“They think you’re evil” I answered.

Michael seems suspicious for a moment, “you don’t”

I shake my head.

“Why” he scoffs.

“Because after you performed the seven wonders and the extra challenges Cordelia made us look into you. She sent Madison and I to the house you grew up in”

“What did you find there?. Did you find whatever proof you were looking for?” He seems intrigued.

“The others found what they needed to crucify you but I don’t agree with them” I answered honestly.

“If you went looking then you would have also found that I am the Antichrist” he says.

“But that doesn’t make you evil Michael it makes you powerful. I know about your upbringing, about Constance’s abuse, trying to get to know Tate as your dad and your interesting relationship with Ben. Michael I know a lot about you and I understand it but everyone your entire life has done nothing but force their opinions on you” I say softly.

He takes a moment to comprehend everything I just said to him.

“So you know full well everything I am so you understand why I’m so upset about Ms. Mead she is the one person who didn’t force anything on to me” he says softly.

I sighed. He hasn’t realised it yet but she was using him too.

“Don’t suggest otherwise to me don’t lie to me” he orders.

“Michael I’m not I promise to you I’m not” I tell him.

He seems to be waiting for an explanation.

“I have a particular gift that allows me to adsorb a memory and share it with other people would it be okay if I could share it with you” I asked him.

“That’s a trick I know better than that do not take me for a fool. You just want me to untie your hands” he says.

“No, Michael I use touch to transfer the memory using touch. I don’t want you to untie my hands until you’re ready, until you trust me and only then. I’m asking for permission to touch you” I explain.

He walks over to me and kneels down to my level, “do whatever you have to do, show me”

I lean forward the smell doesn’t really bother me anymore. I lean forward far enough that I’m barely touching him. I just need confirmation that he’s okay with this.

He stares at me with his blue eyes that seem to be staring into my soul. “Y/n it’s okay, kiss me.” This is the first time he’s said my name.

My lips touch his and lock my touch is as light as feather. I whisper the spell I need to to show him the memory.

He stays there absolutely shocked for a moment tearing and shaking.

He quickly undoes the ropes.

“I don’t even know what to say as shocking as it is I am thankful for the truth how can I thank you,what can I do for you ” he tells me.

Tears slide down his face.

I hug him. “Michael I want to get to know you for who you are.

The end

Author’s note this is my first post on my new account hope you like it. Anyway this is inspired by a conversation I had with a friend sorry I didn’t get to it sooner I’ve been busy

Requests are open

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #madison montgomery #first post #cordelia goode #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #ahs x reader #angst #fluff #jaydedstories

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pupsmailbox · 3 months

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ACADEMIC ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ adeline. agatha. alastair. alex. alexander. alexandria. alisa. amber. ambrose. ambrosia. amorette. andrew. annabel. annabeth. annalise. anya. arden. artemis. arthur. ash. ashford. aspen. athena. atlas. atreus. augustus. avery. beatrix. blair. blake. blythe. bram. bronwyn. caspian. charles. charlotte. christopher. circe. claude. coraline. crimson. damian. damien. damon. daphne. darcy. demeter. diana. dorian. durant. ebony. eden. edgar. eleanor. elenor. elizabeth. elvira. emberl. enid. eris. everett. fantine. felix. fern. genevieve. george. grey. griffin. haven. hazel. hecate. henry. hester. holmes. hyde. inkesse. inkette. inkie. inky. isolde. ivie. ivy. james. jane. journalle. julian. julius. juno. kane. killian. lenore. lilith. lorelei. luna. magnus. malachi. mallory. maude. meredith. naomi. narissa. nicodem. nightesse. nightwing. nimue. noire. noiresse. noirette. odessa. odette. oliver. ophelia. orion. percy. persephone. peyton. phineas. phoebe. quill. quille. quinn. raven. ravenesse. ravenette. ravenne. remus. romero. rory. rosalind. rose. rowan. rowena. rufus. salem. scriptesse. sebastian. stoker. sylvain. tanith. theo. theodore. theodosia. trista. tristan. victor. victoria. vincent. virgil. wilhelmine. willow. wynona. xanthe. zoltan.

PRONOUNS ⌇ acade/academia. amber/amber. an/antique. arch/architectself. arch/archive. art/art. art/artist. arti/article. arti/fact. artifact/artifact. baro/baroque. bea/beauty. bis/bisque. book/book. bookworm/bookworm. calligraphy/calligraphy. can/vas. candle/candle. cer/ceramic. char/charcoal. chess/chess. clas/classic. clay/clay. clock/clock. co/collect. coco/coco. cocoa/cocoa. cof/coffee. coffee/coffee. col/color. coll/collection. collage/collage. con/cept. crea/cream. crow/crow. cur/curate. dra/drama. dust/dust. essay/essay. fea/feather. feather/feather. fig/figure. fil/film. flicker/flicker. gal/gallery. glaze/glaze. globe/globe. gold/gold. hazel/hazel. his/history. history/history. hon/honey. hue/hue. hypo/hypothesis. illus/illustrate. ink/ink. journal/journal. ki/kiln. knowledge/knowledge. le/letter. learn/learn. letter/letter. li/library. lig/ligature. lit/literature. mar/marble. mur/mural. murder/murder. muse/muse. muse/museum. night/night. no/note. novel/novel. page/page. paint/brush. paint/paint. paint/painting. paper/paper. para/dox. pen/pen. pho/photo. pi/pigment. piano/piano. poe/poet. poem/poem. por/trait. porcel/porcelain. print/print. qui/quill. quill/quill. raven/raven. rea/read. read/read. ren/renaissance. rev/revolution. scrapbook/scrapbook. script/scripts. scroll/scroll. sculp/sculptor. sculp/sculpture. sketch/sketch. speci/specimen. spine/spine. sta/stamp. stai/stain. stamp/stamp. statue/statue. story/story. stu/dy. study/studie. study/study. surreal/surrealism. tea/tea. theo/theory. theory/theory. thes/thesis. time/time. tweed/tweed. violin/violin. wheel/wheel. ⌛/⌛. ⌛︎/⌛︎. ☕/☕. ✒︎/✒︎. ✒️/✒️. 🏛️/🏛️. 🏺/🏺. 📜/📜. 🕯️/🕯️. 🖼️/🖼️.

#id pack #npt #nput #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #neopronouns #emojiself #nounself #dark academia #light academia

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lucie-newman · 4 months

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Where: Lake Mallory When: May 2024 Who: Open (5/5)

Lou's cameras had gathered dust over the long winter months. They were brought out for shots of her niece or after a particularly pretty snowstorm, but then tucked away. Spring had legs now though and she was spending her time more often with one of them slung around her neck. Like this morning, at the lake, where hatchlings were following their parents like a string of pearls. She snapped a few shots before realizing she'd wandered a little too close to one small family of geese. She backed up and bumped gently into someone, catching herself on their arm. "Sorry," she said, "I was about to get my ass handed to me back there by those birds."

#merrockstarter

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atrwriting · 1 year

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the bee, the the bird, the bear -- uncle!carmy x babysitter!you

as always, warnings: major character death, past child neglect and abuse situations, swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, and eventual smut

one

“mallory... what’s your favorite color?” you asked the young girl next to you, lightly gripping her hand.

“pink,” the young girl said, keeping her eyes straight ahead at the aisle before her.

you stared down at her and fought back the urge to sigh. you tried not to hold it against her, but mallory berzatto was a tough cookie to crack. in the few days she had been around, barely anyone reported on her asking for anything she needed or wanted. you knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it was growing difficult to continue to remind yourself of that. you didn’t have any experience in how to console a child as they’re experiencing grief, and you weren’t exactly sure how to do that in a target.

“i love pink,” you stated. “maybe when you get older, i’ll show you my favorite pink makeup.”

the girl only nodded. you glanced back down at her… almost wishing you hadn't. you didn't know if it was because it was the sight you were most worried for, but looking down at that girl made your heart hurt. all you saw in her eyes was vacant space. dark, blank, vacant space. it was like ghosts casted a haze over her brown irises… and you had no idea what to do. toxic positivity? offer to get her ice cream? you knew you shouldn't push as you couldn’t exactly blame her.

so you brought out the big guns.

“so, mallory…” you began. “do you like... starbucks?”

mallory’s head immediately turned on a swivel up towards your face, where you stood a foot or two above her. a small twinkle appeared in her eye, and you knew you couldn’t let it pass.

“have you heard of…” you began, wiggling your eyebrows. “a pink drink?”

——————

a little while after you had gotten home from target, mallory said she was feeling sleepy. she left you to go fall asleep on the couch in the living room. your next task was to do up her new room.

carmy had made sure to deliver a bed for his niece before you arrived. a quick vacuum and washing of the walls had been done before you were hired. you sighed, satisfied, before pulling out your phone.

you: i hope you don’t mind… but i bought pink wallpaper.

carmy: she like pink?

you: her favorite color

carmy: that’s fine then.

that was all you needed before you set right to work.

it took much longer than expected to perfectly set up the light pink wallpaper — but once it was finished, you immediately started on your other tasks. you found white bed sheets and a comforter with pastel floral designs that complimented the color of the walls. it was soft and airy and you hoped it would make the young girl feel better in her new home. it would be some time before carmen would be able to get furniture, so you bought a few of those cubicles with cute cloth drawers. they were trendy at the moment, but above all else: they were sturdy, cheap, and easy to put together.

you started folding the young girl’s clothes; tops, pants, dresses, skirts — the works. you weren’t sure of the girl’s situation before her mother had passed away… but the girl did not have many belongings after her mother passed. you were tasked with restocking the girl’s bedroom, including wardrobe, and that you did.

….while adding one princess costume. she said she liked tianna. so you bought it as a surprise.

he could take it out of your pay — if he really gave that much of a shit.

you had stacked a few books that you had grabbed from your younger years that your family had been saving — the books deserved more than just collecting dust. they deserved to be used by a young girl like mallory.

you grabbed what else you could, too — extra sheets, extra clothes, and a winter jacket on the smaller side that your mother had vacuumed sealed many years ago. winter wasn’t for another few months, but you didn’t want to see her without any of the things she needed.

it was growing late, but not close to the time that carmy usually came back to the apartment. mallory had slept through dinner — so for when she woke up, you made sure to prepare her one of your favorites from when you were a little girl: pastina. sure, it was good — but it was also quick, cheap, and easy to make.

you spied the little girl’s awakening state from peaking around the kitchen threshold.

“hungry?” you asked, trying to appear cheery.

“not really,” she whispered.

you clenched your teeth, not really knowing what to do. you didn’t want to force her… but she barely ate anything at breakfast, and hadn’t eaten anything at lunch. “what if… you tried to eat as much as you could, and then i could show you your new room?”

she tilted her head in curiosity. “my… room?”

you nodded, smiling.

“i shared one with my mommy before.”

you swallowed hard. you didn’t know what to say — so you pretended she didn’t say it. shitty, sure, but what else could you do? instead, you responded, “i hope you like the color of your room.”

her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. “what color!?”

you grinned, stirring the pot. “i’ll tell you after dinner! you think you want to try?”

she hesitated for a second, appearing yo consider her options. you raised your eyebrows at her, hoping to influence her in the right direction.

“okay,” she stated. “it better be pink!”

——————

carmen came home a few hours later. you were on the couch, flipping through one of your textbooks, when you heard the lock click and a man’s voice sigh and enter the apartment.

“hey,” he called, setting bags down on the counter.

“hey,” you responded. “i made mallory some pastina earlier — i made extra in case you wanted some.”

“thanks,” he responded, heading into the kitchen. “how was she today?”

“she was good.” you smiled. “seemed a little sad… but i think her new room made her feel better.”

“you already put it together?” he asked. carmen was spooning the leftover pastina you had made into a bowl for himself. the thought made you smile — an award winning chef eating your, in comparison, lame food.

you nodded. “yeah, shit, sorry — should’ve asked you before. i just figured because you were busy — that it would, um... it would help you out.”

he nodded, averting his eyes to the ground. he placed his hands on his hips as he considered your words. “no, yeah, yeah — you’re right.”

you shrugged, stuffing your books in your bag. “at least now you have time to do — other things with here. bonding, and stuff.”

he laughed slightly at that. “that… is proving to be difficult.”

you nodded. “movies are a good start. disney plus.”

he threw up a few lazy pointer fingers, quite literally pointing out that you had a good idea. “yeah, yeah, right… actually… would you mind setting that account up tomorrow for me? i’ll leave you the credit card.”

you nodded, and laughed a bit. “that’ll make her really happy. can i… be intrusive, for a second?”

he didn’t even get it a second thought as he shoveled food into his mouth. “shoot.”

“i know that you’ve got a lot on your plate,” you began, swallowing. “did you have a chance yet to… look into doctors, or dentists for her?”

his jaw tightened. “the social worker left a brochure, but, um — no, i haven’t.”

you nodded. “if you want… i could call around tomorrow. i know you’re busy.”

“fuck,” he groaned, his eyes averting aimlessly towards the countertop. his tongue poked out through his lips, and slid over the cracked skin as he appeared to be consumed by his worries. “i have to put her on my insurance.”

you swallowed again. “…leave me that number, too?… or, if that’s too invasive, uh—“

“no,” he interrupted, staring at you. he shook his head thoughtfully, as if to silently dismiss you worry. “that would actually be… really helpful. thank you.”

you shook off the praise, not wanting a blush to rise to your cheeks. “she’s super sweet. i just — want to help her is all. can i ask… what happened, to her mom?”

“drug overdose,” he answered plainly, nodding almost.

your eyebrows rose as your mouth fell slightly agape. that poor, fucking girl. you fidgeted with your fingers before you spoke once more. “she said that… she used to share a bedroom with her mom today. it’s not my business, but — i figured — you should know —“

“her mom stayed at the places she would score from,” he responded.

your jaw dropped. you couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out: “that poor baby girl.”

he nodded then, placing his hands on his hips. you hadn’t known him for long, but it seemed like he did that when he was uncomfortable and/or didn’t know what to do. you figured he was also probably tired, and wanted to eat in peace, so you began packing your things to head out.

“hey, uh... carm?” you called, almost at the door.

“yeah?” he answered from the kitchen, as he unloaded the dishwasher.

“she’s lucky to have you.” you smiled at him as he was completely frozen in place, staring back at you. you closed the door behind you and left for home.

carmen didn’t know what to do with your words. he hasn’t really considered that, frankly, the girl, his niece, was lucky to be out of the situation she was — even if the berzatto family was a bunch of fuck ups who didn’t know how to control their emotions. carmen didn’t like to keep thinking about it, though — it had been hard to think about his niece, because then he usually thought of mikey — and that was too painful.

building the bear was… almost like closure. closing a chapter, but being able to look back at it fondly. however, when he was first introduced to his niece, who was the spitting image of his late brother… all of those thoughts crept back into him then.

staring at the little girl, mallory, was like the bear had never happened. the beef was still in existence; a flaming pile of shit, kicking and screaming. order was gone through the window, as was carmy’s small shred of sanity he had worked so hard to build and hold onto.

but she had smiled up at him, the first day they met — and he almost bawled his eyes out like a baby. a pathetic, fucking baby.

much like he had learned from construction of the bear, feeling collected and confident — bare minimum feeling okay — took time. a lot of time, money, and effort — but also time, and carmy could do time. he was barely at thirty, and some days he felt like he had no time — but he would make time. for mikey’s daughter — his niece, mallory.

he walked into mallory’s room after he had finished unloading the dishwasher. mallory insisted on keeping the door open with a super bright night light as she slept — so he only felt kind of bad walking into her room as she slept. he peeked around and his eyes widened.

it was like he had hired barbie instead of the girl next door studying for a law degree. the wallpaper was set perfect, faux dressers — he really had to get real ones, but that could wait — were set up and filled with clothes, there were books, toys, and it was decorated very nicely.

you had spoiled mallory.

you had spoiled mallory where carmy couldn’t find the time.

you had said before you had left that mallory was lucky to have him… but all carmy could think about, staring at his niece, sleeping peacefully despite all she had been through, surrounded by items and colors that looked like it was out of a magazine, was how lucky he was to have you to come into his life.

carmy was lucky to have you, and he would prove to his niece that he was lucky to have her around, too.

#carmy berzatto #carmy smut #carmy #carmen #carmen berzatto #carmy au #carmy fic #carmy fluff #sugar #richie #sydney #the bear

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 1 year

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Who is the Sexiest Fictional Podcast Character?

After receiving 219 submissions for 152 characters from 52 podcasts and a round of preliminaries, we have our brackets!*

*20 characters from the podcast Welcome to Night Vale will appear later in a Night Vale-only bracket.

Round 1:

Scripted Bracket

Isabel Lovelace (Wolf 359) vs Cyrille (5 Minuten Harry Podcast)

Krejjh (The Strange Case of Starship Iris) vs Lady Ethel Mallory (Hello From The Hallowoods)

Lord Arum (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) vs The Witch Queen A.K.A. Daughter Dooley (Old Gods of Appalachia

Warren Kepler (Wolf 359) vs Ashley "Ash" Ramis (Georgie Romero is Done For)

Brutus Feels (Kane and Feels) vs Shan (SPINES)

Sir Caroline (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) vs The Dragon Narrator (Unseen)

Alé (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) vs Hester/The Narrator (Within The Wires: Season 1)

Thistle/The Woman (Alice Isn't Dead) vs Sam Bailey (The Sheridan Tapes)

Peter Nureyev (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel) vs Butt (Pounded In The Butt By My Own Podcast: Episode 1)

Alice (Alice Isn't Dead) vs Diggory Graves (Hello From the Hallowoods)

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats) vs Ryan Dallas (EOS 10)

Martin Blackwood (The Magnus Archives) vs Galileo (Let's Make A Music)

Lucifer Kane (Kane and Feels) vs Gin (Story Break: Heaven Heist)

Amaryllis of Exile (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) vs Mabel Martin (Mabel)

Pilot Pereya (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel) vs Hester Oleta (Within The Wires: Season 1)

Strelitzia (Additional Postage Required) vs Harold "HBD" Bastion Demetrius (The Soft-Boiled Detective)

Akmazian (EOS 10) vs Everyone from The Strange Case of Starship Iris

Damien (The Bright Sessions) vs Mari Datuin (Hi Nay)

Count Dracula (Re: Dracule) vs Static Man (Archive 81)

Dragana Vukovic (The White Vault) vs Elias Bouchard (The Magnus Archives)

Agnes Montague (The Magnus Archives) vs Vega Rex (Vega: A Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast!)

Mina Murray (Re: Dracula) vs Nicholas Waters (Archive 81)

Mark Bryant (The Bright Sessions) vs Laura (Hi Nay)

Georgie Crusoe (Wooden Overcoats) vs Kate Burnham (The Bridge)

Keisha (Alice Isn't Dead) vs SAYER (SAYER)

Chance Sequoyah (The Penumbra Podcast) vs Yaretzi (Hello From The Hallowoods)

Buddy Aurinko (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel) vs Dane (Dreamboy)

Sadie Doyle (Thrilling Adventure Hour: Beyond Belief) vs Hera (Wolf 359)

Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives) vs The CryptoNaturalist (The CryptoNaturalist)

Rita (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel) vs Lou (Archive 81)

Dr. Joan Bright (The Bright Sessions) vs Ashvin Beeharee (Hi Nay)

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359) vs Clara Page (Who is Aldrich Kemp)

Unscripted Bracket

Pickman (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle) vs The Shadow Man ('Til Death Do Us Blart)

Beacon (The Adventure Zone: Amnesty vs Glenn Close (Dungeons and Daddies)

Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming) vs Grand Magnificent (Friends at the Table: Twilight Mirage)

Taako (The Adventure Zone: Balance) vs Bathin (Stella Firma)

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance) vs Sago Glegg (Rotating Heroes: Arc 6)

Sans Undertale (Interstitial: Our Hearts Intertwined: Authority) vs M. Leopold Duvall (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle)

Duck Newton (The Adventure Zone: Amnesty) vs Chine (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle)

Tryst Valentine (Campaign: Star Wars) vs Mini Smithson (Chapter and Multiverse: Masks)

Gable (Campaign: Skyjacks) vs Hector Hu (Friends at the Table: Bluff City)

Michael (The Adventure Zone: Dust) vs Nicky Close (Dungeons and Daddies

Zolf Smith (Rusty Quill Gaming) vs Fourteen Fifteen (Friends at the Table: Twilight Mirage)

Coco Cashmere (Hey Riddle Riddle) vs Trexel Geistman (Stella Firma)

Killian Fangbattle (The Adventure Zone: Balance) vs Henrietta Salm (Pest Control: Fate)

Kalvin Brnine (Friends at the Table: PALISADE) vs Lye "Lyke" Lichen (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle)

Indrid Cold (The Adventure Zone: Amnesty) vs Rigour (Friends at the Table: COUNTER/Weight)

Chunt (Hello From The Magic Tavern) vs Suvirin Kedberiket (Worlds Beyond Number: The Wizard, The Witch, and the Wild One)

Tender Sky (Friends at the Table: Twilight Mirage) vs Pox (NeoScum)

The Firbolg (The Adventure Zone: Graduation) vs Ron Stampler (Dungeons and Daddies)

Azu (Rusty Quill Gaming) vs Hadrian (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron)

Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast: Bahumia) vs Caspian (Just Roll With It: Riptide)

Amber Gris (The Adventure Zone: Ethersea) vs Jens Lyndelle (Not Another D&D Podcast: Trinvyvale)

Perennial (Friends at the Table: PARTIZAN and PALISADE) vs Throndir (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron)

Nadiya Jones (The Adventure Zone: Commitment) vs Ibex (Friends at the Table: COUNTER/Weight)

Cassander Timaeus Berenice (Friends at the Table: COUNTER/Weight) vs Tech Wizard (NeoScum)

Vermillion "Milli" Blue (Friends at the Table: PARTIZAN) vs Dak Rambo (NeoScum)

Rainer (The Adventure Zone: Graduation) vs Mercedes Oak-Garcia (Dungeons and Daddies)

Thisbe (Friends at the Table: PARTIZAN and PALISADE) vs Echo Reverie (Friends at the Table: Twilight Mirage)

Kravitz (The Adventure Zone: Balance) vs Henry Hogfish (Not Another D&D Podcast)

Aubrey Little (The Adventure Zone: Amnesty) vs Glenfyr "Glen" Gladewyn (Not Another D&D Podcast

Cel Sidebottom (Rusty Quill Gaming) vs Adelaide Tristé (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron)

Kardala (The Adventure Zone: Commitment) vs Jacqui Green (Friends at the Table: COUNTER/Weight)

Hella Varal (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron) vs (Former) Confessor Bartholomew Lamentations (The Unexplored Places: Ruin's Gate)

#Round 1 #podcasts #Tumblr Bracket

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avastrasposts · 3 months

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The British Connection - ch. 1

This is a completed fic from early 2023 and in a small-ish fandom, but it was my first finished fic in a long time and I'm still very proud of it. Since The Boys is coming out with season 4 TODAY (!!!!) I thought I'd re-edit this fic and re-post for anyone who comes looking for some Billy Butcher fics after watching the new season.

Summary: Grace Mallory makes a reluctant Billy Butcher and The Boys team up with an MI6 operative sent over from London to track down a dangerous supe killing people on both sides of the pond. Billy is being his usual arsehole self but maybe opposites attract?

It's 14 chapters and complete and 'll be posting a new chapter every day

Warnings: canon typical violence, smut, fluff, Butcher being his usual grumpy and unreasonable self, nasty supes, guns etc.

Lieutenant-Colonel Grace Mallory had requested, no, demanded, Butcher’s presence at a meeting this damp January morning. He grumbled down his phone at the early hour she gave him but agreed to meet. Saying no to Mallory isn’t wise, especially since she’s the one paying the bills.

He finds the address she’s given him leading to an anonymous looking office building on a seedy side street in midtown. The entrance door opens after he rings the bell for the 16th floor, a small camera verifying his identity before he’s let in. The building is what you’d expect from a covert agency office, nothing betrays the nature of the activity on the inside.

As the lift takes him up to 16th he ponders on the nature of this meeting. It’s rare for Mallory to be in the city, even rarer for her to meet with the leader of The Boys. Things have been flowing rather smoothly the past few months. Minor supes were biting the dust almost on a weekly basis, information was coming in from reliable sources, coerced or otherwise, and Butcher felt sure that sooner rather than later they would find intelligence that would deal a hard blow to Vought and The Seven. Maybe Mallory had found something too sensitive to share electronically and set up this meeting, maybe this was it.

The lift arrives on the 16th floor and he steps out into a small reception area. A middle aged lady with greying hair sits behind a desk in front of a sturdy looking glass door. The slight green tinge to the glass lets Butcher know it’s bulletproof. The receptionist looks up as he steps out of the lift.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Mallory is expecting you, Mr Butcher. Down the hallway and to your right. Sign here”.

She hands him a pen and he signs his name to the visitors sheet, as if they don’t already know he’s in the building and will keep eyes on him until he’s left.

The receptionist pushes a button on her desk and the glass door clicks open, he grabs the handle and makes his way through, his heavy boots making squeaking noises on the cheap linoleum floor. The hallway beyond is lined with the same material, walls painted a nauseating lima bean green. He turns the corner and is met by another long hallway, blank doors on either side and at the end a conference room with large glass windows with the same green tinge.

Mallory is standing by a large table, her back turned against the door, looking at another woman in the room whom Butcher doesn’t recognise. She’s leaning over the table, hands splayed, studying an open file in front of her. She looks like an agent, that same anonymous black suit they all wear, white shirt, sensible shoes and, oh yes, a glimpse of a holster under her jacket. He can’t make out what gun she’s carrying but she’s definitely packing. At the sound of his squeaking boots approaching she looks up from the file and gives him a once over. He knows that look, it’s the same look he gives anyone who walks up to him, assessing the potential threat, finding weaknesses and making a worst case scenario plan in a split second. Yeah, this lady is definitely an agent.

The women's movement makes Mallory turn and look behind her. As she sees Butcher approaching she says something to the woman who closes the file in front of her and straightens up. Mallory walks over to the door and lets Butcher in by clicking a button next to it.

“William, thank you for coming,” she says as he walks through the door.

‘Ello, Mallory” he replies, “always a rare pleasure to see you in the city”.

He walks round the table so that he’s standing at the short end, back against the empty wall, clear view over the room.

“What’s the occasion?” He locks eyes with the other woman in the room. She moved as he moved, facing him with her side against the long table. Clearly whatever Mallory wants it involves this agent lady.

“Butcher, this is MI6 officer Edwards. She’s been sent over from London by her commanding officer to gather intelligence on a supe that we are also very interested in. As the MI6 mission objective closely matches our own desired outcome, it’s been decided she will work with you and your crew while she’s stateside.”

Mallory has kept a straight face up until now but her composure finally cracks and she gives a crooked smile at Butcher.

“And I thought it rather fitting to let you work with one of your own for a change”.

Edwards stretches out her hand towards Butcher but doesn’t make a move to close the distance between them.

“Eve Edwards, nice to meet you” she says and Butcher curses internally, Fuck!

Her accent cuts the air like glass and he’s got her pegged. Privileged, public school, Oxbridge, old money and all the connections you could need to make it in ol’ Blighty. He glares at Mallory but she’s either playing dumb or doesn’t understand the implications of her accent and its stark contrast to his own. In the US, class is based on money, in the UK you can be the richest wanker in the land but your family and your accent will decide what class you belong to. And Eve Edwards’s class has spent centuries fucking over everyone from Butcher’s.

“Billy Butcher, pleasure” he says to Edwards but he doesn’t offer his hand, neither does he cross the space between them. She drops hers without a word, the sarcasm in his voice is hard to miss.

“Why’d you put me up with this, Mallory?” Butcher barks, turning to her. “I decide who joins The Boys, it’s me own crew and not some CIA MI6 bullshit operation. And ‘specially not with some..”, he waves his hand in the other woman’s direction.

“We’re working for the same cause here Butcher” Mallory intervenes before he can finish his insult. “We’re sharing our intelligence with MI6 and they are sharing theirs with us so that we can stop this supe faster, before any more damage is done. And as an added bonus,” Mallory gestures to Edwards, “your team is strengthened by a seasoned MI6 officer who I’m sure will prove a very valuable asset.”.

“I’ve read your file, Butcher.” Edwards says before he has a chance to open his mouth again, pointing at the fat documents folder she closed as he arrived. “Former Royal Marines, former SAS, tours in Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia. If you were still in the UK we’d most likely be working together already. We’d probably even have served together in some of those places”.

She walks down the length of the table and puts her hand out again as she approaches him.

“I’m not joining your operation, we just need to work together on this one and working with someone who knows how MI6 operates is going to make this easier on both of us”.

Butcher stares down at her, he’s at least a good head taller than her, she barely reaches his shoulder, but the way she walked over, the way she stands in front of him now, even with her hand stretched out, tells him she’d be no pushover in a fight, even against him.

Fuck.

Furrowing his brow, he acknowledges her effort to win him over with a curt nod, convincing himself this is the easy way to do it. Mallory is not backing down. But he can’t make himself take her hand, instead he snarls at Mallory,

“Fuck it then, I’m in, and she’s in. But you better follow my orders, sunshine”, he growls back at Edwards who yet again has dropped her hand. “And you’re gonna ‘ave to change out of that fuckin’ suit, you look like an operative coming a fuckin’ mile off.”

Chapter 2

#billy butcher fic #karl urban fic #billy butcher #karl urban #the boys #billy butcher smut #billy butcher fluff

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skulljackxiii · 5 months

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GrojBand Comeback Tour - Final Act P.2

Support me over at Patreon: www.patreon.com/skulljackxiii ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Overall Narrative: Along side GrojBand's journey comes another band that attempts to be as reckless as them, but appears to be more well kept together and prepared. They are the only other band besides GrojBand to sign up in all genres in the competition so that they appear as the superior musicians, The Newmans. For a long time, they and GrojBand have always one up each other in their performances, though when it came to popularity the Newmans were always in the lead. But that never lead them to believe that they were truly better than their competitor.

Outsiders may believe that this obsessive rivalry was born from spite and jealousy, however in truth there has never been a droplet of animosity or ill will between the two bands...well mostly between the two leaders anyway, Carrie and Corey. Whenever they cross paths the two would often banter and instigate tension to mostly motivate and ignite their passion for music. The only times when Carrie would be more passive aggressive and antagonistic towards GrojBand would be whenever she interacts with the band's bassist, Laney, due to more personal conflicts outside of music.

This rivalry dates all the way back back before the bands were even formed when middle school started and Carrie was more quiet and insecure about her general well being. Though everything about her life up until that point was going to change when she was introduced to both music and Corey. The two quickly hit it off and formed a genuine friendship that lasted all the way up to high school where the two separated to start their own band in order to give the other motivation to be better musicians.

Back to the present, It's revealed that right before they left on their journey for the competition, both band leaders crossed paths once more and began their usual banter. But things ended more differently in this exchange where Carrie suggested to put a wager on the line at the end of the competition. The bet being whoever's band gains the most influence and recognition at the end would be the winner and they're allowed to command one request from the loser. Seeing nothing to worry about Corey agrees and becomes even more motivated to win the competition, even though he has no idea what kind of command he should give to Carrie if he wins. But for her, she had more personal ulterior motives to initiate the bet in the first place, a motive that won't be revealed until the end of the competition.

No one else knew about the bet besides the two, however in one event both Carrie and Laney had a heart to heart conversation between the themselves in a diner; recounting their upbringings and how much Corey both changed and saved their lives. At the end she brings up the bet they formed and insinuates that she would make Corey go out with her if she wins. Though this was not her real request and was made as a joke, this in turn made Laney upset and had her leave in a panic. Carrie wanted to clear the air but she left it as it was hoping to give GrojBand more motivation in the competition.

Months passed and both bands performed shows that were out of this world, whether that be on purpose or not was left to speculation from audiences. Both continued on their journey leaving bands left and right in the dust, though just barely. But it wasn't just the other bands and Trina that they had to worry about, there was also a criminal organization that threatened their well brings in many occasions thanks to GrojBand indirectly interfering with their operations. They were able to get out of dire situations mostly thanks to the aid of one Nick Mallory.

Now down to the final two, both GrojBand and Newmans stood ready and prepared to perform their last performance of the night before the final calls were made. The Newmans was called on first and their made the crowd scream like they never heard before, GrojBand was up next after a few minutes. But before any of that Corey made a decision and came clean to everything that he's done throughout the entire tour. Over the past few months, Corey grew guilty and revealed all the fraudulent and misdirected claims he's made so far; lying where all the financial expenses came from, his feelings towards his friends about their futures, his insecurities about his own future, and his wavering feelings towards music. GrojBand stood silent and felt hurt about the secrets that was kept by their leader, they didn't know what to do. But right before they were called on stage Carrie saw what was happening and came in to say her piece about the whole situation.

With her stating her disappointment in GrojBand's hesitation and expecting more from her rivals, this gave the members back some of their morale. It was obvious there's more to be discussed with Corey, but for now they'll stand ready to backup their frontman and perform their greatest show ever. With each member leaving on stage, only leaving Corey and Carrie alone to briefly talk amongst themselves. Before Corey said his thanks, Carrie stopped him and wanted to tell him her request claiming that she won the bet, even though GrojBand didn't perform yet. But with what just happened ,he didn't have room to argue and was ready to accept anything she said.

Carrie then leaned in closer so that no one else heard and whispered what she wanted Corey to do; she wants Corey to keep being himself and to always love music, from now and forever. Since even before day one of the competition, she knew that something was off with Corey. With them graduating high school, Corey's insecurities was showing more and more with each of his shows. She didn't like that he was slowly losing a core part of himself that inspired her to play music in the first place. To not only her, Laney, or the other members, she saw Corey as an inspiration to help others and express themselves that they never could on their own.

With that said she grabs him by the arm and quickly shoves him on stage where a huge massive crowd was screaming and cheering their names. With Carrie and the rest of the Newmans standing on the sides watching, GrojBand was gonna perform the last song of the night and it was their greatest time of their lives.

#total drama #total drama island #tdi #fanart #total drama fanart #grojband #newmans #carrie beff #konnie kagami #kim kagami #lenny nepp #story

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starleska · 1 year

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introducing my Spotsona, The Star (AKA Dr. Mallory Dust) ⭐💜 Dr. Mallory Dust is an Alchemax astrophysicist from a dimension where Dr. Jonathan Ohnn (The Spot) isn't present for the day of Kingpin's super-collider collapse.

instead, they are the one mutated by the dark matter, with one fateful twist; the star-shaped necklace Mallory wears around their neck is made of material collected from an asteroid. something about the properties of this material interfered with the mutation process, resulting in deep purple, star-shaped holes across their body.

The Star is present in a separate dimension to the one which created The Spot, but Mallory is present in both: in the former, a distant work colleague to Jonathan, and in the latter, an admirer of his work and sympathetic to his plight - quietly working to reverse his condition. still got a lot to think about in terms of their meeting, but i like the idea of The Spot combing dimensions to see if he truly is the only version of himself, and coming across countless other Spot-like beings...sometimes him, and sometimes other unlucky people!! this is definitely an excuse for me to say - all of you making Spidersonas are amazing and so creative;;; however, if it's not for you, you don't need to limit yourself to Spider-Man! you could make a Spotsona, a Doc Ocksona...go wild 😉

#spotsona #the spot #dr. jonathan ohnn #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man #spidersona #the star #dr. mallory dust #starleskart

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cassiesart · 1 year

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For @badthingshappenbingo

Title: Diggy Diggy Hole Prompt: Buried Alive Fandom: Original (personal fantasy project with the working title 'The Four Corners of the Earth' i don't love that title but whatever it's something) Rating: PG for mild endangerment of dwarf Word count: 1,412

Read it on toyhou.se

(Doing some practice writing to practice... things.)

(Recommended listening)

#bad things happen bingo #practice writing #project: the four corners of the earth (working title)#character: oddborg bronzebit #character: mallory morgan #character: dust

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countrymusiclover · 4 months

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1 - Being the New Neighbor

Part 2

Dr. Redheaded Neighbor

Tag list @annieradcliff

Holding one large box in one arm I had two smaller ones on top of it. I hit the front desk button on the outside of the building hoping someone would be coming soon. I was nowhere near done unpacking my car and I had my best furry friend sitting at my feet. “Don’t worry, Maxon. Somebody should be coming to let us in.”

“Do you need some help?” Glancing over my shoulder I heard a guy’s voice call out for my attention.

I hesitated to hope I could do it myself. I had decided to move out at the age of eighteen with myself, my dog and some money to my name before I headed to basic training. “Oh no. I um - think I have it.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ve only lived here for a few months but it’s rare most people are mingling in the lobby this late at night.” The guy explained walking up the small set of stairs to stand beside me.

I pressed the button again looking through the small glass of the door not seeing anyone. “I’m really fine. We’re gonna be fine.”

“We. So, what’s this guy's name?” The stranger eyed the dog laying at my feet. Maxon lifted his head when the guy bent down reaching forward to touch his fur to which I gave a head nod in agreement. “Hey bud, I’m Will. Uh - I actually should be introducing myself to you first I suppose.”

I groaned, getting tired of holding the boxes in my arms. “Ugh! Sorry I didn’t think to introduce myself but clearly you seem to be right about nobody working at the front desk.”

“Oh here, let me help you.” Will rose to his feet sliding a key card in front of the scanner before the door was unlocked. He reaches over taking the boxes from my arms.

“You don’t have to take those.”

He responds. “It’s no big deal. Can you get the door though?”

“Sure. Maxon, come.” I patted my leg signaling him to follow me when I held the second door open for Will to walk through and we followed after his heels before letting the door shut behind me. “Thank you, Will. I can take it from here.”

He set the boxes down, eyeing me. “Do you live in this building? I haven’t seen you around before Ms...”

“I actually just got my keys to live here a few hours ago. So, I guess that makes us neighbors.” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, sticking my hand out towards him. “Mallory. Mallory Easton.”

He shakes my hand smiling. “William Halstead. But I prefer everyone to call me Will.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Will. Oh, and you’ve already met my dog Maxon here.” I gesture my freehand down to my dog who was sitting at my feet with his tail slightly wagging back and forth.

Will bends down picking up the boxes a second time tilting his head towards the stairwell that was near us figuring it was more comfortable if we weren’t just chatting in the lobby. “Why don’t we get the rest of your stuff upstairs and then we can keep chatting over some late-night coffee or something.”

“That sounds good to me.” I agreed with what he offered, and we went upstairs until we were standing outside of my room number 218. I opened the door with my key feeling slightly embarrassed that there was a bunch of boxes scattered about. I wasn’t planning for company so this must look like a tornado hit here. “I’m sorry the place is a wreck.”

Will sat the stack of boxes on the ground next to some others dusting his hands off on his blue jacket. “It’s okay. You’re just moving in. No biggy.”

“Yeah I guess so. I’m just embarrassed cause I wasn’t expecting company.” I shrugged my shoulders hearing Maxon rummaging around one of his toy boxes finding a red fireheighdrent toy. He held it in his mouth and just started throwing it around like crazy so we could hear the annoying squeaking clearly.

Will chuckled flashing a cheeky smile. “He sure likes that toy doesn’t he?”

“One of his favorites yeah.” I glanced down at my phone seeing it was getting close to midnight. “Hey Will, I should probably let you go it’s getting late.”

He waved his hands at me in defense. “Not for me. I work in the ED, never a normal eight hour work day for me.”

“Oh wow.” I gasped not expecting that from him but I then eyed the clothing he wore which was a pair of red scrubs underneath his coat that I hadn’t noticed until now. He had auburn hair and deep brown eyes making him not too bad on the eyes to look at, but of course I’d never say that.

He pulled me from my train of thought. “Hey I think I’ve got some beers stashed away in my apartment. Would you want to share one with me. Toast to being new neighbors and all.”

“Sure. That’d be great.” I accepted so our first night there Maxon and I spent it with him, never knowing our lives would change forever after what happened when I went into serve.

5 years later

Blinking my eyes open I felt my body laying on a table. I could hear some ringing in my head and I felt like I had an intense headache for an unknown reason. I attempted to look around the room seeing I was in the medical tent on the base. Trying to sit up the tent flaps opened revealing our head medic Owen who rushed over to me. “Woah Easton, lay back down. You need to rest.”

“Dr. Owen, I’m fine.” I told him trying to get off the table again.

He puts his hands on my shoulders making me look him in the eye. “Do you remember what happened on mission 5025?”

“You mean the one we went on a few days ago. Of course. Maxon and I were responsible for locating the bombs before the response team went in to catch the cult leader.”

The doctor scanned his eyes over my face. “Do you know what the outcome was?”

“Yes. We – uh wait a second. I don’t remember it at all.” I tried wracking my brain around it but there was nothing.

Dr. Owen tapped my shoulder before the tent flap opened again and I watched someone walk in with Maxon being on a leash. “Ms. Easton, I think it’s best for you medically to take some time off. Until we figure out what happened to you.”

“Ms. Easton, we’ll have your stuff prepared for you to go home for a few months. And Maxon is cleared to go with you as well.” The guy uncliped the leash from his dog collar and he ran to me putting his paws on my knees that were underneath a blanket.

Maxon moved his nose around staying on my right leg and nipping at it. I lifted the blanket curious as to what he was smelling and then I saw the reason for them asking me to leave for a little while. “Maxon, what is it boy. Oh wow – this is what you were talking about isn’t it doc?”

“Yes ma’am it is.” Doc Owen trailed off, lowering his gaze to the leg brace that was wrapped around my right leg. There was a bandage on my knee underneath the brace and my guess was it was because a bullet hit me the wrong way on the mission I couldn’t remember.

A few days later Maxon and I were riding the down exsculator with a bunch of people leaving or coming back in the Chicago airport. I carried my backpack on my left shoulder as we walked through the lobby looking for some food since we hadn’t been able to eat on the plane. “So, what do you want to eat, Maxon. Chicken, burgers or something else – woah hey Maxon. Maxon no!”

Maxon bolts away from my side and towards the direction of where we had come from the baggage claim. I bolted into a run after him as best as I could not used to the brace slowly me down. His paws scraped across the tile floor unit I saw a guy in a dark blue jacket get tackled to the ground and he bared his teeth down to the stranger. “Ugh!”

“Maxon – shit sir I’m so sorry. Maxon get off him. I’m – Will?” I wrapped my arms around his waist trying to yank him off until I saw the guys face in clear view over Mason’s head.

The doctor chuckled not bothered by it. “Long time no see, Mallory.” I slumped my shoulders confused on how he had even found him with this many different smells around us. Yet regardless I had to admit I had missed a certain Halstead brother.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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