#THANK YOU FOR THINKING OF ME AND MY STUPID CHARACTERS IN REAL LIFE

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

i came v close to scenting my room like alpha minho 😭😩

[the-mad-owl]

Nonbinary language being made fun of by other trans people really does hit different still 🫠

[tenok]

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[ghostfacd]

I’M A JEALOUS, JEALOUS, JEALOUS, BOY. | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. after gaining massive popularity, you star another show where you have to kiss your co star, which tom isn’t exactly happy about

AUTHOR NOTE. Two posts in one day? Who am I??anyway! This was self indulging because I love Steven Conklin and nobody writes for him 😔 As always, reblogs and comments make me more motivated to continue this series :)

installment of this au | the reader plays fictional character ���ella fisher” in tsitp!

Tom wasn’t a jealous guy, at least, he didn’t think so. He was very secure in your relationship, always making sure he didn’t let his emotions get the best of him.

Like when you told him you had gotten the role of Conrad and Jeremiah Fisher’s sister in The Summer I Turned Pretty, and how you were Steven Conklin’s love interest, he congratulated you with a big hug.

He knew who was playing Steven—Sean Kaufman. There was no doubt that Steven was a very charming guy.

“You’re here!” You say giddily, engulfing your boyfriend in a hug when he approached you. “Daisy was just patching up the last of my concealer. Did you get any food?”

Daisy was your makeup artist—and one of the sweetest girls you’ve ever met in your life. She knew the cast pretty well, so when you first got here, she helped break the ice between you and them.

“You know I did,” Tom says, placing the paper bag down on your table. He opened it up, retrieving an iced matcha latte and a poke bowl. You squealed in delight, excited to eat after filming for so long.

“So how was your day?” You say, cheekily grinning at him as you ate your bowl.

“Tiring? I did a photo shoot, it was fun. Then I went home and took a nap, and then I drove to buy you food.”

“Well thank you babe,” you say. “Today was such an exhausting day, so much retakes cause of all the sand. But God do I love this show to death. It’s so much all at once but in a good way, you know?”

“Well I’m just excited to see my girl on the big screen,” Tom smiles, leaning in to give you a kiss on your forehead.

“YN! Time to film again!” The voice of your director calls out, making you shove your bowl into Tom’s hands and rushing over to the cameramen.

Tom carefully places your bowl down, walking over quietly behind the cameras to watch your scene up close.

He watches as you talk to Lola, who plays Belly, about your plans after high school, and how you wanted to apply for Princeton just like Steven. She rolls her eyes, saying how she doesn’t get how you and Steven get along so well.

Later in the scene, you and Sean sit close together in front of a campfire. Tom remembers vividly of you telling him there was a scene between your character and Steven where the two of you would get extremely close. Tom feels his breath hitch when he sees Sean make you laugh. He knows that it’s just acting—that your character and Sean’s character are love interests in the show, and that it means nothing in real life.

But he just feels so weird. His stomach is in knots, and it feels like his mouth is dry.

“You know,” Sean begins, leaning in close to your face. “I know Belly doesn’t want me liking any of her friends, and your brothers would totally kill me if they knew; but you’re making it so hard.”

“Really Steven?” You fake giggle, leaning closer to his touch. “Well they don’t have to know.”

Sean laughs at your comment, his head falling against your shoulder, something that Tom had always done with you.

And then he sees the director cue the cameramen to zoom in, and then there it is. — You and Sean kiss, and Tom feels his feet move away from the scene without even realizing.

“And… cut!” The director says, clapping. “Good job Sean and Y/N! You really captured the tension between Steven and Ella. That’s a wrap!”

You hug Sean afterwards, the two of you laughing about how stupid the kiss must’ve looked but you knew the viewers would eat it up once the episodes aired.

“Where’s that boyfriend of yours?” Gavin asks, suddenly showing up behind you and Sean.

“Gavin!” You say, putting your hand to your chest. “Way to scare a girl to death!”

Gavin laughs, poking at your sides teasingly. “Just kidding, I know where he is. Stormed off where Lola and Christopher are standing.”

“Storm off?” You say, confused.

“Seems like lover boy wasn’t too keen on you kissing our Sean over here.”

You quickly make your way towards where Lola and Christopher were standing, and just like Gavin had said, Tom was standing behind them. He didn’t look too happy.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, pulling the boy away for some privacy.

“It’s nothing.”

“Oh c’mon,” you scoff. “It can’t be nothing. Gavin said you stormed off earlier.”

Tom sighs, clearly wanting to drop the topic. But one look into your genuine concerned eyes makes him crack.

“I was jealous.” He admits, biting his lip back in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

You bite back a smile, arms linking with his. “Awe babe, it’s okay. Just acting. Just like how you kissed Rachel in the Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah,” Tom sighs, bringing your body close to his. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have felt that way.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, smiling brightly. “Feeling jealous is bound to happen with our job, as long as we communicate about it, everything will be fine.” You hug his side, snuggling your face into his coat. “Plus, you know Sean has a girlfriend, right?”

“What?” Tom seems baffled, but he quickly covers it up. “No, yeah, I knew that.”

“Uh huh,” you tease, “don’t worry Tom, I love you the most.”

He leans down, making eye contact with you. “Well I sure hope so, because I love you the most as well.”

And everything was perfect until Gavin lets out a fake barf, telling the two of you to “get a room”.

“Oh get out of here Gav!” You say, shooing him away.

“Yeah Gavin, let the couple have their moment!”

That makes everyone laugh, and you swore you never felt happier than you did right now.

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Hi I love your work so far, do you think you could do headcannons for all the different characters of the main Hazbin Hotel cast when their lover comes to them injured? Like how they would treat you and then how they would deal with the person who harmed you. I would love to see this ahhhh 😫

Ahh of course! I love this, thanks for the request! I hope you like it!

Trope: Hazbin Hotel x Injured!reader

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

Warnings: Physical violence, mention of death, injured reader, blood.

author's note: hey guys! this is my first time doing one of these, and I'm still getting better, so forgive me if its a bit shabby. If you have any requests, feel free to send them in! I'm in a creative buzz rn lol. Enjoy!

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

The day that your attacker decides to hurt you is the day that they decide to die. Messing with the Radio Demon’s plaything is about the last thing you want to do. 

Alastor often sent his shadows to follow you into town when he couldnt be with you, so the second you were attacked, Alastor could sense that something was wrong. 

By the time his shadows had carried you back to the hotel, your attacker had already escaped, but luckily, his shadows saw everything.

When he rushed down to see you, he seemed rather indifferent at first. He carried you up to his room, immediately conjuring several healing ointments to heal you quickly.

He laid you in his bed, in which you almost immediately fell asleep.

He hears the whispers of his shadows, and gains all of the information he needs out of them. 

With a single snap of his finger, the issue was taken care of. Rumor has it that the screams of your attackers' seemingly “random” death could be heard about 3 rings down. 

While waiting for you to wake, Alastor conjures two steaming bowls of his mother’s jambalaya. Placing one on the side table next to you, he sits down next to your sleeping body and lightly grazes your head, singing soothing songs until you wake up.  

😈🗝️Charlie🗝️😈:

Would of course be so very angry at whoever did this, but her first priority would be healing you up and making sure that you’re absolutely 100% okay and comfortable. 

Would set you up in her bed and assure that you have anything at all that would make you feel more comfortable. Tea? Yup. Ice pack? Already got it. Cuddles? Of course!

Would definitely let you cuddle with Razzle and Dazzle for as long as you needed.

She would try her best to talk to you and figure out what happened - to figure out who did this to you.

As you told her, she seemed surprisingly… calm? She simply thanked you for telling her and left the room. 

Though Charlie doesn't seem like a particularly violent person… She can get protective over the people she loves. So, let's just say she got that issue taken care of real quick. How stupid to mess with the Morningstar family. 

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Anybody in her vicinity needs to watch out when she hears that her love is hurt. 

Like, seriously, heads will roll. But not before she checks on you to evaluate how badly she needs to fuck up the person who did this to you. 

When she sees you, bruised and bloody, she can't help but hold you so tight and cry, scolding you for getting yourself into a bad situation without her there to protect you.

Vaggie knows what it feels like to be beaten and dumped on the side of the street like garbage. She could never forgive herself if she allowed that to happen to anybody else, let alone the genuine love of her life. 

When she asks for the person who did this, you can only give her a vague description. That’s alright though, she will use her former exterminator skills to scan all of Hell and find the person who dared to do this to you. She will not leave this alone until she serves you justice. 

🕷️💖Angeldust💖🕷️:

Coming home from the studio to find you in his room, crying and bruised, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and comforts you in the biggest hug ever. 

Angel has plenty of experience with being abused and left to fend for himself, so he doesn't immediately resort to asking questions. No, that’s not what you need right now. You just need to know that you’re loved, beautiful, and that this does nothing to affect your worth or value as a person.

He carries you from the floor to his bed, covering you in blankets and laying next to you with Fat Nuggets. 

“It’s okay baby. You can cry, it's okay.” he whispers as you sob into his chest.

He allows you to initiate the conversation of what happened, not wanting to push you past your limits. 

Once he finds out what happened, he knows what he has to do. He waits until you fall asleep, and heads down to the club where your attacker happens to frequent. For once, being a famous pornstar will actually serve in his favor. He tempts your attacker to follow him, and immediately beats him to an absolute pulp. 

He allows the person to live, saying “I am only letting you live so you can know how it feels. You ever try this shit again, and I will find you. Except that time, you wont leave here looking so… whole.”

♥️♦️Husk♦️♥️:

Husk is used to all the residents of the hotel bitching and moaning to him about all of their issues. With Charlie coming to him and oftentimes crying about the many failures of the hotel, tears were no foreign sight to him.

But coming from the kitchen to the bar and seeing you there, looking an absolute mess, was different. 

“What the-What the fuck happened?” he yells. When you flinch, he knows that something happened.

When you explain to him what happened, he immediately needs a description of the attacker. He takes possibly the largest shot you've ever seen and storms out of the hotel.

He wishes that he could do more to protect you. Back when he was an overlord, he had power beyond anybody's imagination. He could've snapped a finger and your attacker would simply disintegrate (but not before he tortured him a bit first). But now that Alastor owned his soul, his powers were limited. 

You know what wasn't limited on husk, though? His pure physical strength.  

He immediately finds the guy walking on the street adjacent to the hotel (dumb, right?) and absolutely obliterates him. 

As the attacker is begging for his life, he just keeps hitting, blind with rage and love for you.

When he wants back into the hotel bloody and exasperated, he sits in the stool next to you and wraps you with one of his wings. 

“It’s all okay now. I’m here” he says as you lean on his shoulder, so ready to go to bed. 

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

Sir Pentious always loved coming to your room to show you his many zany inventions. Normally you welcome him in with open arms, a sweet smile on your face, but today was different.

When he knocked on your door, he was met with absolute silence, which isn't normal for you. When he listened a bit closer, though, he could hear your small sniffles. He trusted his gut and slowly opened the door, fully ready to be denied entry.

Instead, you looked at him shyly, turning away and crying. He could've sworn that he saw a… black eye?

He took this opportunity to come and sit next to you on your floor, placing his arm around you and letting you lean your head on his shoulder. 

When he noticed that you were calming down a bit, he asked you what was wrong.

You explained that while you were engaged in a turf war, some ruffian beat you up, and badly. The girl you had momentarily teamed up with had left you behind, and you were left to trek back to the hotel on your own, barely able to walk. 

You could see something change in his eyes. 

He curled his tail around you, his cool skin calming your nerves. He assured you that he was here now, and nothing like this would ever happen to you again. He then swiftly called his egg bois to entertain and comfort you while he prepared his airship. The idiot that did this to you was going to pay, and not just in turf.

😈🐣Lucifer🐣😈:

Bursting into Lucifer’s room, the only thing you could mutter is “Help” as you fell into his arms. 

He frantically carried you to a chair and tried to assess your injuries. Man, someone fucked you up, and badly. Too bad he would kill them before they could brag about their success. 

He rushed to find ANYTHING that could help you. Bandages, ice, your favorite food, a rubber duck, ANYTHING. 

When he finds you absolutely passed out asleep in the chair, he gently moves you to his bed and tries his best not to stir you. 

As he sits watching you, thinking of your beautiful smile (and how he’ll brutally kill the person who did this to you), he observes your features with great detail. 

When you wake up, you smile. Lucifer must have gone, but sitting on your table is a bowl of soup and… is that a rubber duck that looks like you?

[dcxdpdabbles]

I loved Summon AU, is it possible that you make more Summon AU?

The aftermath of the summoning leaves the Wayne Manor in a strange sense of foreboding. No one really knows what the Ghost King has done with their list or what it means for them that he has accepted.

Everyone tried to go about their daily lives, attempting to act like they weren't looking over their shoulders. Bruce had nearly broken a blood vessel when he heard about them doing a stupid online trend when they knew magic and gods were real.

They couldn't think of a better excuse for why they did besides "it seemed funny at the time."

Bruce had been so unimpressed with them all that he broke out the big guns.

That night, Alfred grounded them. He really sat everyone- minutes Cass because she had escaped through the window after Danny called- and told them they would not be allowed to use any form of technology unless it was related to their nighttime job.

They would also be given a chore list to complete every day until their punishment was over.

Even though neither Dick or Jason lived at home anymore, they too were grounded and didn't bother to even try to argue with the aging butler. Cass was informed of her own punishment through a text, and she returned about thirty minutes later, ready to face her punishment.

She reorganized everything in storage- and in Wayne Manor, there was a lot in storage- without a single complaint, but she did seem somewhat nervous. And excited?

Like a child waiting to open a present.

That was out of character for Cass, but no one was brave enough to ask her about it. Life before the manor was a taboo topic when it came to Cass.

A week later, her restless behavior finally came to light.

When the doorbell rang, Alfred was just looking over the wood polishing job Tim and Damian had been assigned. Confused- as there were no expected guests and the kids were all still grounded- he approached the door cautiously. Tim was on standby in case things went south.

A young adult, likely barely eighteen, with pretty blue eyes, a vast, charming smile, and a gorgeous winter-themed dress, was on the other side of the door. Their hair is short but styled to have one side longer than the other, framing their face perfectly.

A spinnable circle pin on her dress read Gender Fluid in the unmovable part and "She/Her day" in the spinal part.

"Hi there," She chirps, a dimple on full display. "I'm Danny."

"Good afternoon, Danny. My name is Alfred. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if Cass was home?" Dany starts surprising Alfred and Tim -who were eavesdropping around the corner- as the girl carefully plays with her hair. "I was hoping to talk to her."

"Miss Casandra is currently not allowed guests." The butler starts slowly. He watches her face fall dramatically before humming. "I can, however, pass along a message to her."

"Oh yeah, that be great. Please let her know Danny was wondering if she would like to go with me to see a ballet tonight. Um if she's allowed to go out."

Tim's eyes widen. A date? Danny had come here in person to ask Cass if she wanted to go on a date? Then had the courage to ask Alfred, to his face, if she could take his grandaughter out?

Who is she? Tim thinks amazed. He wants to text the rest of the group chat, which would invade Cass' privacy. He waits a few minutes until Alfred responds.

"Miss Casandra is currently grounded. Unfortunately, she and her siblings cannot leave until their punishment ends."

Tim winces. Hopefully, Cass being nineteen and still being grounded at her age didn't scare off Danny. Some people didn't understand how much power Alfred's word had over the manor and frankly, those people didn't deserve Cass anyway.

But it would make her sad.

"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for letting me-"

A scream makes everyone jump. Tim whirls around to find Damian pressed against the main stairway. His face has gone three sheets of white, staring at Danny with horror.

"Y-you!"

Danny tilts her head. "Me?"

"Y-you!" Damian gasps and Tim is highly alarmed that his voice is tinted with fear. "Why are you here?!"

"I came to ask Cass if-"

"You will not take Cain from me, Ghost King! I will destroy your core before you try to get near her!" Damian screams, hand suddenly holding a glowing green sword, but his threat doesn't hold much because he is literally shaking in his boots. "You have your summon payment already! You shall leave Cain alone!"

What.

"Oh! You think no, no. I'm not here for her soul or anything. Cass and I go way back when she lived on the streets. " Danny- the ghost king they summoned using a list of their gay awaking apparently- laughs, waving her hands as if to calm the young child. "I liked her for a while but thought she didn't feel the same. Until the summoning, where I saw my name on the list. We talked it out, and I was hoping to take her on a first date, you know?"

"You lie!" Damian races down to point his sword at Danny, looking just as wild as a cornered animal about to fight for its life. "Why would the strongest being in the multiverse live on the streets?!"

"Well....it's not like they pay to rule the dead....I had a rough patch, but Cass helped me get back on my feet." Danny muttered, slightly embarrassed. Then she squits at Damian. "Wait, are you a al Ghul?"

Damian breaks into a sweat as Danny gasps, "You are! You're family owes me so much money in backed up taxes for the healing pool! We cut off contamination maintenance because Ra's refused to pay years ago! Kid, do you know I can get into contact with your family member about the Lazarus pit?"

Damian screamed again, turned around, and ran, leaving a stunned Alfred, Tim and Danny. "Guess not. Anyway, sorry to be a bother Mr. Alfred, I'll come back when Cass can go out. Bye!"

A familiar portal rips under Danny as she falls through with a cheerful wave. Alfred and Tim watch it close in a moment before Tim turns to the butler. "Did I inhale too many polishing chemicals? Am I hallucinating?"

"No, my dear boy, I saw everything as well."

"Oh, good. " Tim pauses. " One of us needs to speak to Damian and Cass."

Alfred closes the door slowly. "I'll find Master Damian. You go for Miss Cassandra and Master Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"The next time, Mister Conner sends you a fun trend to try. Don't."

"Yeah, that's fair."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Guilt. You can't deny it any longer. Your stomach is chaos. Everything you eat threatens to come back up or churns like cement. 

Something happened. Something you can't remember but you know what it was. Yet it isn't just that mistake that eats away at you. It's the one keeping you awake. The one draining you of energy and money alike. Your marriage. 

Stupid is an understatement. You didn't think any of this through. It's catching up to you. You didn't just fuck around because you’re angry. No, you're unhappy. 

But you did fuck around. For all you can say about Barrett, he didn't do that. It's over but you just don't know how to end it. He doesn't either. 

Tonight? You say that every day but you find an excuse not to do it. You're tired, you have to make dinner, you'll do it tomorrow when he isn't in a mood. 

That night you delay the inevitable with a trip to the pharmacy. You need something for your stomach. Once you get it under control, you'll be able to think. 

You grab the cheapest anti-nauseant on the shelf and read it over. May cause drowsiness. Well, what doesn't make you tired? 

"Got a bug?" The deep timbre scares you for more than its abruptness. It's familiar. Your vision flickers like a strobe light as you look over. 

It's him. Again. Captain America. What are the odds? 

"Ate something, I think," you murmur. 

He watches you. It's like he's waiting for something. You stare back. 

"Anyway..." you glance around him. "Sorry, if I'm in your way." 

You take a step back to clear the view of the shelf. 

"Nah, this stuff doesn't affect me. Can't remember the last time I had a stomach ache," he scoffs and turns. He grips the edge of a shelf as he faces you. "You never texted back." 

You flinch and flutter your lashes. "Texted?" 

He grins and puts his hand across his chest and drags it down. He laughs, "we had a good night, didn't we?" 

"Huh, I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Really, you don't? 'Cause I can hear your heart racing." 

You blink and look around, "really I don't--" 

"I'm sure that works with your husband. You two did look awfully happy at the grocery store. I could see the disgust crawling all over you," he snickers. 

"Excuse me, I don't know you. So please, go away." 

He clucks and stands straight. He drops his arms and frames his hips, "is that how you talk to your Captain? You're not how I remember you. You were a lot... nicer." 

"Shut up. That didn't happen." 

"Keep telling yourself that," he shrugs. 

"I-- I can't remember..." you whisper. Your voice cracks, "please, I don't remember." 

You look up at him with teary eyes. It was him? Of all people you had a drunken one-night stand with Steve Fucking Rogers. This can't be real. 

"I remember," he steps closer. "I can't forget." 

"No, please, I'm married. Alright? It was a mistake. Just a drunken night." 

"Not for me," he insists. His earnestness makes you shudder. 

"Look, I'm flattered but my life is complicated enough  alright? I'm sorry but I'm sure you can find someone else, Cap. Someone who isn't twenty shades of fucked." 

You shake the box of tablets and cringe. You turn and sweep away. You head to the checkout and go to one of the self-service machines. 

He surprises you as he puts his hand on the plastic divider and looms over you. You focus on scanning the pills and paying. 

"Look, Cap, I'm sorry I didn't reply." You slip your card out of your wallet.

"You ran out. I came back to an empty apartment." He juts a leg out as he leans on the divider. 

"Sure, but I woke up in a stranger's bed, all alone. I was a bit freaked out." 

"I went to get breakfast," he says. 

"Did you not notice the ring on my finger?" The machine blares in rejection of your card. You curse under your breath and try again. 

"You didn't seem to," he retorts. 

You swallow as your card is rejected again. You toss the pills on the little ledge next to the till and huff. "It happened and I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye but I got enough going on." 

He sucks in through his nose and lets it out slowly. You turn away and he snarls, "I can hear the other heartbeat too, you know?" 

You stop short. What the fuck is he talking about? You gather what pride you have left and set your chin high. You march out without looking back. 

Other heartbeat? 

The nausea, the exhaustion, the aversion to the candle in your bathroom. No. It makes sense but it can't be true. 

You can't handle anything else. You just can't. You can't afford a pregnancy test, let alone a baby. 

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Another Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Netflix sucks and I'm sad, but the Dead Boy Detectives fandom continues to be awesome, so here are some more very quick fic recs!*

Tonight's the Night You Fight Your Best Mate's Dad by Opossum_Subatomic

Everyone's Alive College/University 5+1 things fic featuring Charles bringing Edwin coffee and slowburn payneland. Also Family/Wedding Drama involving Everyone Thinks They're Dating so acute is verges on Fake Dating. This author is seriously fantastic, everything they write is gold.

You should also check out Kissing Lessons, which is a high school AU that does what it says on the tin while also giving non-binary Monty and polyamory.

Ornithology by Rosie447

Monty gets a job working at Tragic Mick's. This one's not actually payneland, being gen and Monty-centric. I know, gasp. It's a fantastic and very sweet exploration of Monty discovering his sense of self post canon and works as a great metaphor for recovery from toxic family/relationships. Also, the ex-animal solidarity and bonding with Mick is lovely.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

The Sandman crossover featuring Edwin and Hob being kidnapped and tortured together. Their friendship is really wholesome with eventual Father Figure and Found Family Feels for the whole agency and background Dreamling.

dandelion wine (life and death in summertime) by world_wanderer

Payneland Right Person Wrong Time AU in which neither of them die but they still meet and become friends. The May/December friendship is sweet but tragic, with a bittersweet ending. Superb.

Mirror Image by Anonymous

Charles' afterlife gets taken over my an evil shape-shifting doppelganger, leaving him with plenty of time to regret never talking to Edwin about his feelings. Angsty but with Feelings Realisation and the Power of Love and Friendship vibes.

my healing needed more than time by babyseraphim

Case fic with de-aged Charles! Baby Charles is precious but be prepared for discussions of childhood trauma/abuse.

The same author has also written I'm So Aces at Babysitting, which is a really cute two-chaptered AU featuring Charles and Edwin babysitting the kid versions of each other, with bonus Crystal and Niko doing the same. It's very wholesome and the author writes little kids really well.

Pouring into me by tragedy_machine

Love me some "Charles wants to date Edwin to figure out his feelings but gets turned down" fic. Feelings are hard, OK?

thank u, next by KiaraSayre

Edwin fucks and Charles seethes. It's very funny and also features some interesting worldbuilding with the Fae.

Like We've Never Known Hurt by dearheartdont

Just cute established relationship PWP and praise kink. So good.

all of these hollows by handwrittenhello

The boys are alive again but sans memories. Can they still find each other and prove their devotion to the Night Nurse?? While also evading heavenly and hellish forces trying to keep them apart??? Very interesting concept executed well.

Suo Gân by emryses

The agency takes on the case of a traumatised Edwardian ghost searching for her missing baby... Read it for Edwin family feels.

Where Primroses Bloom by PantryJesus

Reading aloud as a love language and Watership Down feels. Idk, I'm now convinced that Edwin is kind of rabbit-coded with the whole "if they catch you they'll kill you. But first they must catch you" thing. A lovely well written fic.

I'm so sick of online love by Hse11z5

College/University AU where the boys meet through a dating app. It's cute.

you can have the best of me, baby (and I will give you anything) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Again, it's the Friends with Benefits but with real feelings and mutual pining for me. Now has a Charles PoV companion fic.

True Love's Kiss by Asidian

In which Charles curses himself with a Sleeping Beauty enchantment in order to confirm his feelings for Edwin and Crystal is the real MVP. I love this one because the boys are both SO stupid but in very different in-character ways.

I also recommend Promised, in which they kind of play the Green card angle to keep Edwin out of Hell? Which honestly needs to be more of a trope. And Tight Quarters, starring the boys trapped in a magic circle, leading to Forced Proximity induced Feelings Realization (in more ways than one! 😉).

Something I Can Turn To by DontOffendTheBees

I love some domestic fluff, in this case as an Everyone's Alive/Childhood Friends AU in which the boys are poor but happy living together. I liked how they both survive their respective traumas, but Reality Ensues.

I also recommend Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light for a lovely but melancholy Soulmate AU that goes for the "seeing colours" trope for extra wistful angst.

Dining at the Ritz by TerresDeBrume

Meeting the Parents fic in which Edwin's parents are awful and Charles is Not Having It. This has Everyone Thinks They're Dating and autistic Edwin stimming representation, plus discussions of racism, classism and ableism. The fic is also part of a great Modern AU series in which the boys attended St Hilarion's at the same time and Charles saved Edwin from a non-supernatural but still almost deadly prank. Highly recommended!

The Case of the Couples Retreat by juliasfanart

Listen, I can't get enough of undercover fake dating/relationships at a couples retreat, OK? Some minor angst but overall very cute and fluffy.

acu (aysar cinematic universe) by ObsessedWithFandom

The agency is hired to solve the mystery of Charles' death and bring his killers to justice. I'm genuinely obsessed with this series; I love its OCs and Charles having an exboyfriend gives Edwin a fun crisis. Plus haunting Charles' killers is very satisfying and cathartic. Just imagine they're Netflix execs, y'all.

*Not actually quick, as it turns out. 😅

I love doing these lists because I always think I've only got a few recs and then I look back over my recent bookmarks and I've got a metric ton of great fics to rec. You guys are so talented. ❤️

[sillysiluriforme]

If you’re up for it, could you talk a bit more about Felix in the la terreur au? I saw that comic of Colt shooting him in the head (and not dying bc senti shenanigans), and that makes me want to know more about how he grew up and what else Colt did with him (and what Amelie’s role has been in all of that). Love what you do, thanks! 💙🦚

Oh boy !! I think Felix is one of my favorite characters from canon.

He's extremely competent, right ? He has all these grand plans that he does go through with, unfortunately the plans all have stupid goals. Not only that, but he can't seem to think long term. (confronting Gabe during the same episode he learns he's keeping his aunt's body in the basement, the diamond ball episode, his whole relationship with Kagami...) He has this childish recklessness I find really endearing.

We're pushing all those things a little further in LT !

Felix grows up isolated in a big, big house, he learns quickly that no one that can will help him. Amelie's in the same boat. His grandparents are fully aware of Colt's behavior and refuse to step in. Emilie's oblivious. Gabriel is Gabriel.

So he learns to rely on himself.

Colt is not a good person. He's selfish, and he's jealous, and he's set in his ways, and he's a war profiteer. And now he has a magic baby of dubious origins.

He can't get past the fact Felix is not a normal baby. The first few years go smoothly enough. The baby is fussy but manageable. Something for Amelie to do. Then Colts starts gets sick. It's like a cold initially, but he never gets better.

He tries to raise a real man. Drills and old fashion discipline. His mom whines about it, but it's what he needs. He's "beating the devil out of him." Colt keeps getting worse. Amelie's head is everywhere but here. She's calmer. She's stealing his Codamol, but he doesn't bring it up. Anything to get her to shut up.

He's dying ! He's dying, and he's scared, and he's a profoundly religious man, he's sure this fucking thing he created is siphoning his life forces. That's what he gets for messing with the devil. He blames everyone but himself. He mostly takes it out on Felix. From that point on, it's constant orders. Do this, don't do that, do it this way or that way. He's using that ring like his life depends on it. Does it ?

This thing cannot die. He tries to get rid of it 3 times and no matter what it gets back up.

He's dying, and his mind is going with it. This thing is a monster. His brother-in-law is a monster. His wife is a monster. Everyone is a monster. He's dying and it's their fault.

[afewfantasies]

Lucky Strike 🎯 🎱 - HISTORY- II

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Pairing: Benny Cross (Bikeriders) X Reader

Summary: Benny deals with the personal ramifications of his joyride & learns about the precincts unexpected guest after a night of being in the doghouse with Kathy.

Warning: Mentions of DV and substance abuse. Neither are descriptive or in the current timeline of the story they are reflections of the past.

Word count: 1.3K

Getting to the house felt like it took twice as long while Johnny drive Benny home with Kathy in the back seat and Bruce following behind with Benny’s bike. The tension was getting to be too much for Benny and half of the reason he’d been going on a joyride. He’d grown up in a household that argued and it was why he shut down most times instead of going at it with Kathy. Johnny bids him a farewell with an apologetic look having not time to talk as Brucie puts the keys to his bike in Benny’s hands.

“Come by tomorrow we’ll talk” Johnny says with a serious tone.

“Ok, thanks guys” he nods before heading in with Kathy. He closes the door behind him and heads to the kitchen to find something to eat before Kathy really starts fussing. When it does start Kathy really does lean into it. Her points are valid but it wasn’t like Benny had become a bike rider after he’d met her. If that were the case she’d be on a solid foundation. But she’d fallen in love with an outlaw and then tried to change him. 

“And who was that woman there with Johnny? Never see you fellas with them kinda real fancy women” Kathy snaps. Benny hadn’t returned home to peace but all out war for the stupidity of his deeds and disregard for his lady and the family they were building. Kathy’s words not his.

“I was locked up how should I know?” Benny asks thinking of heading to stay with his father tonight as a means of stilling the argument.

“Fancy broad, all done up” Kathy explains as he gets a cigarette. “No smoking in my house!” She snaps.

“What am I locked up in here too!?” Benny snaps finally.

“You comparing my place to a jail after I just put all I had towards your bail? I’ll be eating from cans for the next two weeks” Kathy snaps.

“I didn’t ask you to do that Kathy and you should’t of if you’d resent me for it” he snaps lighting up as he exits the house. He sees her in the doorway as he revs his engine heading back to his father’s house. The drive is long and allows him to clear his head. When he gets out he sees people up playing cards in the middle of the night and nods a greeting before getting his keys. A foul smell hits him as he enters to find his father in a worse state than last time.

“Hi son” Mr. Cross says to his son.

“Pops” Benny nods heading into his bedroom. Sitting in his room be breathless fresh air opening the window and lighting another cigarette. His eyes hold your old window. No one hand heard anything about you since you’d left with the exception of one letter from your mother to Benny’s with a check for the money she’d borrowed and a note telling her that you and your mom were safe and doing well. There was no return address. Teaching over to his nightstand Benny opens his book of children’s stories to your favourite, a photo falls out. Looking at the old photo Benny smiles at your toothless grin. It was one of very few keepsakes he kept from childhood. The two of you had walked for miles on tiny legs to the fair. One of the carnies took pity on the two of you, fed you and gave you enough cash to do one thing. After an hour of contemplation you both decided on the photograph. It was a miracle you’d survived at all. He couldn’t think of things being any worse for children. 

He didn’t know why his mind was on you that night but people say when you dream of someone they’re thinking about you. Benny was the main character in tonights dream of yours as you reimagined a colourful life for him. Based on the news reports and his new friends. He was so handsome from the picture he gave James Dean a run for his money. Wherever you were he hoped you were happy, hoped things were going well and that one day he could see you again. Tomorrow he would to to see the guys and straighten out everything to do with his bail, then he’d find a way to repay Kathy. Maybe even leave her alone for awhile.

…

Benny feels more eyes on him than usual. Tensing he prays Kathy didn’t carry on too badly about his jail time. He finds Johnny across the room and heads over. Brucie gets up and Benny sits down unnerved, looking at Johnny.

“How fast were you going kid?” Johnny smiles. His demeanour is a shift from Benny’s expectation.

“I don’t know but I’ll pay the club back” Benny says ready to stand up. 

“No need kid, it was taken care of here, have a beer” Johnny says putting one in front of Benny. It’s surprising he’d seen what a bailout could do to the clubs treasury and with so many lately he knew the coffers were probably nearing empty.

“How? Kathy says you called up a woman?” Benny says describing you from Kathy’s recollection.

“Handle your old lady Benny, I don’t need the headache at home.” Johnny snaps. Not wanting the untrue tale to get back to his wife. Johnny hadn’t called you, he didn’t know you.

“Alright” Benny nods sharply.

“Besides, she wasn’t there for me, she was there for you.” Johnny tells Benny.

“I don’t know any women who dress that well” Benny mumbles lighting a cigarette. He’d been underprivileged before he’d become an outlaw. 

“Yeah? Well she knows you.” Johnny responds taking out the two day old paper, handing it to Benny he points to the death announcements. Skeptical at first Benny goes line by line stopping at a familiar name. A man whose death he’d prayed for often as a kid. Emotions overtake him and suddenly he feels like the chair he’s sitting in is unsteady and the clubhouse is spinning around him.

Sitting back Benny recalls the last time he cried. It had been a tearful goodbye because of the very name he was looking at. The two of you were holding onto each others hands for dear life, with fear for the unknown as your mothers pulled you apart. Your mother trying to get you to the car before your dad returned home from 60 days in jail, while Benny’s mother tried to get him back inside. You were only kids and you were both wailing. Your father had gone on a tear and really did damage to your mother before nearly turning on you. It had been Benny screaming into the phone like a void that made the police rush over to avert a homicide. It was the first and last time he called them. He’d been trying to save your life and had lost you anyway. Once separated you both watched each other tearfully until you were no longer in each other’s sights as the taxi cab drove away. The memories flow in and he remembers how powerless the two of you had been. Remembers that you were the only person that ever really fought for him. Swallowing he gets goosebumps, he’d just been thinking of you last night.

“Y/N?” Benny asks, your name carrying with it a ghost of hope.

“Y/N, where’d you meet a dame like that?” Johnny asks making Benny smile.

“You sure?” He can’t hide his excitement.

“I’m sure Benny, she came in all done up” Benny smirks recalling the somewhat wild and unkept child from his memory. “The guys were nearly drooling, she’s a looker with good instincts.” Johnny says. Leaving Benny to ponder those thoughts.

“She married?” Benny asks.

“I didn’t look at her hands” Johnny admits as Benny tries to visualize the new image of you in his mind. He was relieved that you seemed to be alright, thriving and beautiful but his heart hoped against hope that you’d found forgiveness for such a sorry excuse of a man.

“How do you know her?” Johnny repeats drawing Benny from his thoughts.

“Neighbours, as kids” Benny mumbles getting up. “Gotta run” he says getting back on his bike suspended license and all.

________

NEXT CHAPTER

Authors note:

Thanks so much for reading🩵 🎆 ! Don't forget to comment, like and reblog.

FOR FUN i'm curious to see what you think. Respond without reading the other comments:

Where's Benny headed next do you think?

Who's death announcement was in the paper?

Would you bail Benny out no questions asked, no resentment?

Tags: @mrsalwayswrite @ughdontbeboring @astrogrande

[berrieluv]

ʚ 𖦹₊˚. remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: remus dies his hair red and you go feral.

kiki says: i saw this pics of david and i couldn’t help it. this history contains smut, MDI please, it mentions reader and remus being in his twenties and in college. reader is a horn dog but with a bf like remus who wouldn’t. there’s mentions of cum play, oral sex (male receiving) but it’s mostly domestic life fluff i think. sorry if somethings is wrong, english isn’t my first language.

ʚ 𖦹₊˚. ʚ 𖦹₊˚. ʚ 𖦹₊˚.

smut below the cut.

remus lupin had no right being this extraordinary specimen of a man he was. he was already too cool for you to handle, the mastermind behind every marauder plan, one of the top students in all his classes, what’s more attractive than a boy who loved to see the world burning but never burn with it.

sometimes you pinched yourself every time he called you ‘baby’ because nothing felt real next to him. it didn’t feel like you were on earth.

“no” you signed as soon as your boyfriend entered your shared department with a half smirk “no, no, no, no, NO!”

the last ‘no’ was higher and accompanied of a tantrum, the kitchen flannel was now on the floor and you walked straight to the bedroom. remus followed you, frowning in silence and found you lying in bed.

“what?” he chuckled.

“how could you do that do me?”

“what did i do” your arms start to violently move, pointing at his — now orange — hair. “well, sirius had a perm and he said i would look good”

“sirius had a perm?” you were really curious about what would made him take that decision, and more, how did it turned out?

“yes, never mind. what’s wrong with my hair?” he said, touching his already messy hair “i can change it if it bothers you that much”

you turn to face the pillow and take a second to scream against it.

“you look really fucking hot” you respond nonchalantly, as if you weren’t throwing the biggest tantrum of your early twenties. “it’s not fair”

“you’re like this because i look good? i thought i looked hideous. i thought i looked like those unemployed people who drop out of college to start a band”

“you look really good” you say “and definitely knowing you’re going to the university helps your character a lot”

“then what?”

you sigh in pain “i masturbate at the thought of you a lot, remmy”

he chuckles “thank you, baby”

“a lot, remmy” you emphasize “i mean it”

“i masturbate thinking of you too”

“yeah, the two times you’ve ever masturbate, and i’ve always finish it for you”

“what’s that?”

“you don’t like masturbating”

“well, no” he starts “i have you. and even before of that i wasn’t a fan, sorry?”

“not the point” you discard his apology “the thing here is, that doesn’t affect you as much as it does to me” you feel suddenly embarrassed, hidding your head on the pillow while remus sits on the mattress with your legs on his thighs “i can see myself getting out of bed later thanks to you. taking more time showering because of you. and what when you’re not here? i’ll just think about that stupid hair and have to do it”

“c’mmom” he laughs “you don’t masturbate at the mere sight of me”

“you don’t know what’s going on under those sheets, remus”

“fine. fine. fair enough” he kisses your shoulder “i don’t mean to brag, baby, but you make me feel really desired”

“you are, remmy. why do you think i make sure to kiss you every time we’re at the school cafeteria?”

“because you love me?”

“no, silly” he looks at you offended “well, yes, that too. but i just have to make sure everyone knows you’re with me”

remus chuckles again, that’s the only thing he knows how to do in moments like this one, where he felt so close to you and in his mind was only one thing.

fuck you.

in any way he could, he just wanted you to warm his cock.

he threw your shirt somewhere in the room and now he was on top of you. both of his legs at your sides and he just took his time kissing your lips and caressing your face.

he took off his clothes as soon as he could, he was an eager and busy man.

remus fucked like he was being chased. his goal was making you cum as fast as he could while that motherfucker just smirked and edged himself, watching the whimpering mess he made you, you couldn’t take any more and yet he still hasn’t cum.

“my pretty, pretty, baby”

remus sat on your belly, his already hard cock was resting between your breasts and he holds himself onto the bead board with one hand while the other toys with your boob.

you moan in his lips and he just has to bite your lips.

“my pretty, horny princess” he’s making fun of you. you know it by the smirk forming in his stupid handsome face “eager, baby?”

he knows you are, you always are. remus starts to move his hips against your torso, his balls humping against your skin.

a few seconds before that, remus starts getting closer to your mouth, finally standing with his knees in a way that his cock is directly in your lils.

you of course, receive him with an open mouth, how could you not when he looks this hot.

his balls are resting on your boobs and his big cock is now inside of your mouth, he toys with your face as if it was nothing, like you don’t have a gag reflex at all.

remus caresses your face with a soft completely opposed to his strokes. every time you suck his dick he makes a mess of you, he pulls out for a second and slaps your pretty face, you moan and he smiles, how can this moment not be perfect?

“you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever slapped”

you chuckle, you’re also the only girl he’s ever slapped and you intended to continue like that.

remus kisses you after putting his cock on your mouth again and this time you raise your head so he could hit deeper, he holds your hands as soon as he sees you trying to touch him and he laughs every time he felt you wanting him to let go. he pulls out of you and he hears your cries, because you wanted more.

“what, baby?” he smiles, leaning down on you to kiss you “you know i wouldn’t cum right there. s’ not much like me, is it?”

and it wasn’t, but you thought that maybe that hair would make him change his mind and not be so cruel about filling your mouth with cum, his cum.

“don’t be mean, remmy” you manage to say while trying to get back your breath. “s’ just not fun. you don’t cum. and i don’t cum, why are we even having sex?”

he smirks and raises his hands in a way of declaring himself innocent, of what? you wouldn’t know, remus’ brain overworked while having sex and yours simply stopped working.

“you wanna cum, baby?”

and, as if being under his body with your face covered in saliva and his pre-cum wasn’t humiliating enough, he had to make you bed.

“yes, please, remmy” and you were weak. you would beg if he wanted you to. “please, please, i need you, need your cum, remmy”

“wow, you’re unbelievable. how do you look this pretty while begging? i would look embarrassing”

“s’ part of my charm”

“let’s have you cumming, baby, shall we? if you’re good enough i’ll stuff you with my cum too”

“not too many rounds, remmy. just cum”

he laughs, but you’re not kidding. he kisses your temple and nods.

and by the end of the night you’re a complete mess. there’s cum leaking from your pussy and you can still taste it in your mouth, your breasts are sparkling with it too and remus tries to get you up to take a shower but you’re way too proud of yourself.

remus lupin came four times that night, and here you were thinking that red hair didn’t make him change his mind, because there was no way a brunette remus lupin would cum more than twice the same day.

“and ruin my victory that soon?” you responded when he begged again for you to go to the bathroom with him “let me be, remmy”

“baby, i promise i’ll cum more but please. you have to pee and shower”

“i’m just so happy right now, remmy”

“have a shower and i’ll stuff your pretty pussy with cum again for you to sleep like that, fine? but at least you’re clean for the night”

and just like that, your body was already receiving the cold drops of water.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual tags.

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. “You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she’d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.” 

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!” 

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

[mintiicinnamonii]

Ok, so, idk if I missed the character limit so I'm sorry if it's too much, I also don't want to put any pressure on you either!

So! What if reader was half human half dragon? (I mean like, How to train your dragon kinda dragon)

Where they can either be human, half human/dragon (like, walking on their legs but being a bit taller than before, having scales instead of skin, wings and tail) and full dragon form (like toothless)

(I apologize if it's too complicated 😭)

Reader: gender neutral

Characters (romantic hc): Sun Wukong, Macaque and MK? (Maybe Mei Mei too if it's not pushing it)

Again, no pressure, and if it's too much I'll understand! Have a lovely day :D

Mei, MK, Wukong and Macaque with a dragon hybrid reader

(notes: MUAHAHAHAH YOU HAVE FED ME YOUNG ONE!! I didnt have much ideas but this was so fun!)

Mei

shes SOOO EXCITED

like?? a fellow dragon? a PRETTY ONE?!!

she asks if you breathe fire, and depending on your species you answer

you two go on joyrides in the sky <33

the second you transformed she was like 🫦

she is in AWE OF YOUUUU

she asks you so many questions about your species and you’re happy to answer them all

her fans think you’re a cosplayer 💀

she demands piggy back rides, and pulls your collar down to kiss you

”i love my tall partner”

she catches you hoarding gems and has a picture saved on her phone

her parents are like 🙌

you have asian parent approval congrats (im viet, so i should know)

—

MK

seductive monster x shy human real!!,

he was very intimidated at first, he thought you would eat him

but when you purr with your lil reptile noises hes SMITTEN

i hc that you pick him up and fly with him

hes happy he can relate to someone who can relate to having this animalistic side of their life

he blushes a lot. like.. you’re HELLA TALL and MK is probably short as hell so… add two and two together

you steal his stuff a lot and hoard it as treasure. he doesnt mind, as long as youre happy

you reach things on the top shelf for him. change my mind.

—

SWK

CUDDLE PILES!!!

you two fly in FFF together

SPIDERMAN/SKY KISSES BABYYYY

he thinks you look so graceful and pretty

you could kick his ass and he would say thank you

you spar with MK sometimes to help him and MK is FLABBERGASTED

imagine wukong getting into a stupid fight and you jsut swoop in and save him

he gives you as many treasures as possible for you to hoard

and when you’re in dragon form hes like 😳

mans thinking of situations. none of them are in the tripitaka/the buddhist bible

he tries to turn into a dragon, he cant do it

”sighhhhh i miss my tall pookie bear”

he leans on your shoulder

—

Macaque

he admires your strength, but not in the sense that Wukong does, more like respect and love

you go on nighttime flights together, its rlly relaxing

he pets you. fight me.

like dragon pookie = cat pookie

scratches, pets, distracting you with shiny things

you get rlly mad and then he just kisses you and youre like 😳

the only man that can calm you down

if you were dating before he joined the gang, POWER COUPLEEE

”hey babe ready to beat up wukongs student” “hold up lemme change firstttt”

he pulls you down with your collar to kiss you

hes still a massive flirt <33

i hc that you make little replite/cat sounds. the first time macaque heard them hes like “wait did you just”

he has teased you for it ever since

the dojo’s kinda small, so you have to duck to enter, and he literally CHANGED HIS DOOR so you can enter easily

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter One

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Word count: ~2.5k Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Desperate to pay off her student loans, she downloads a dating app with a twist, and makes an interesting match.

She sighs, her eyes scanning over the PDF of her payslip for the month, before locking her phone and letting it drop heavily onto the kitchen counter.

“Bad news?” Mysaria quirks an eyebrow, sliding a glass of wine across to her.

“These student loan repayments are fucking killing me. I’ve basically worked an entire week for free this month.” She complains, taking a huge swig from her glass.

“Bummer.” Her flatmate says. “Any way I can help?”

“Unless your mattress is secretly stuffed full of cash, no. Super Noodles for me for the rest of the month, once I’ve paid my share of the rent.”

“You could give being a sugar baby a try?” Mysaria says with a smirk over the rim of her wine glass.

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, or take up pole dancing lessons and become a stripper!”

“I’m being serious.” Mysaria, puts her glass down and pulls out her phone, flicking to the App Store and typing. “See? There are loads of apps, why not give it a try?”

“Isn’t that just prostitution?” She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

“Hey!” Mysaria chides. “Sex work is real work, but this isn’t prostitution. Most of these guys are just desperate, lonely guys who earn big bucks and are willing to spoil you in exchange for a conversation or a few selfies. You don’t even have to sleep with any of them…unless you want to.”

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

Even if she did go through with it, she was inexperienced, and would surely be a disappointment to any potential sugar daddies she might attract. She’d had one boyfriend in her entire life, it had lasted six months and they’d never gone beyond unsatisfying quickies that focused entirely on his pleasure. The idea of taking money from a stranger in order to pay her bills makes her incredibly uneasy.

They’re half way through their second bottle of wine as she scrolls through her phone. Mysaria is snoring softly on the sofa next to her, while an episode of some trashy reality TV show plays away to itself in the background.

Her thoughts keep drifting back to her flatmate’s mention earlier in the evening of sugar babies. She knows it’s likely the wine inspiring her actions, but she finds herself scrolling through the same apps they’d looked at previously.

Seeing one with particularly good reviews, she presses download before she’s had a chance to think twice about it and then goes through the process of setting up a profile, picking the best photo she has of herself on her camera roll.

Her heart races as she swipes with shaky fingers through photos of a myriad of men. She stops when she sees the look of one she likes.

Larys, 45. Tell me all your secrets.

His curly brown hair and piercing blue eyes immediately capture her attention, and she enjoys the flirtatious nature of his tagline. She swipes right and is stunned when she gets an “It’s a match!” notification. Wow, that was fast.

Instantly a message pops up from him.

Hello beautiful. How are you this evening?

She smiles, this seems harmless enough.

I’m fine, thanks. Just watching TV. How are you?

Her eyes linger on the screen as she awaits his reply.

I’d be better if I could get a look at your pretty feet. How much?

Bile rises in her throat and she throws the phone away from her in disgust. The worst possible start she could have asked for. She silently curses Mysaria’s stupid idea and vows never to open the app again.

Three weeks later and she is thoroughly fed up. She’s tired of never going out or doing anything, sick of existing on instant noodles. When she receives another payslip and sees yet another loan repayment has eaten away at her earnings, she reaches breaking point. She considers looking for another job, but she currently doesn’t qualify for anything beyond an entry level position in her field, and the pay everywhere else is no better than what she’s already on.

Her thumb lingers over the app that she hasn’t touched for weeks, too scarred by having such an awful first encounter to bother with it again. However, she’s desperate and willing to try anything - not with Larys though. She’s quick to unmatch with him, eager to forget his disgusting request.

She swipes mindlessly for a few minutes, not finding anyone attractive, until she happens across a photo that stops her in her tracks.

The man in question has sharp features - an aquiline nose, an impossibly chiseled jawline and sculpted cheekbones. His long white blonde hair frames his face elegantly, his only imperfection is the scar that runs across his left eye, a slightly duller blue than the right. She wonders if he’s still able to see out of it.

Aemond, 35.

No tagline, no other photos, save the one of him staring directly into the camera. He seems intense and mysterious. She swipes right, unable to fight the disappointment she feels when it’s not an instant match.

She closes the app, her desire to look at anyone else has been thwarted by how ridiculously good looking he is.

She has nearly forgotten about him when her phone buzzes the next day. He’s matched with her. She unlocks her phone, her palms sweaty with nerves, and looks at his message.

Hello.

Simple, to the point, possibly the words of a serial killer? She pushes the thought away and types out a response.

Hi. How are you?

She almost gives up and puts her phone away in the time it takes for him to reply, but eventually he does.

I don’t do small talk. Tell me about yourself.

Her eyes widen as she reads the message. He’s either incredibly rude or just not used to interacting with other people. She decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. She tells him about her history degree, about her museum job, about her living situation and her aspirations to one day become a curator of historical artifacts. He is unsurprisingly evasive when she attempts to ask about him.

So, what brings you to the app?

She decides there’s no point in hiding the fact that she’s strapped for cash, she wouldn’t be using an app that matches sugar babies with sugar daddies if that weren’t the case. She explains that her student loan repayments are crippling her, half expecting not to hear from him again. His next message is much quicker to arrive.

How much? And are you free Saturday night?

Dread gnaws at her stomach. Oh god, what does he expect of her? Hesitantly, she types out the remaining balance she has on her student loan and asks what he has in mind for Saturday. Again, he replies straight away.

Give me your bank details. I need a date for my nephew’s engagement party.

Her eyes widen. This cannot be real, and yet it’s happening. Dazed by his forwardness she sends across her account number and sort code, and tells him she’s free on Saturday.

Her mouth runs dry when after a few minutes her banking app pings with a notification of a deposit. The full amount she owes on her student loan has been transferred to her under the name ‘A. Targaryen.” 

Aemond has transferred her thousands of pounds as if it were nothing more than pocket change, and all under the loose agreement that she’ll attend a party with him. This man has to be obscenely wealthy, or insane, perhaps both.

Her phone vibrates again. Another message from him.

Transferred. Give me your number, I hate the messaging interface on this app.

With clammy hands and a pounding heart she types out an entirely too long, rambled message of thanks, along with her number.

She wonders if she’s blown it when she doesn’t hear from him again, yet the money still sits in her bank account, feeling as though it’s burning a hole in it. She hasn’t exactly played it cool, most sugar babies probably accept money with cool sophistication, not simpering words of gratitude.

She feels like she’s forgotten how to breathe when he texts her on Friday.

Tell me your address and dress size.

Once more, she’s taken aback by how blunt he is, yet she complies and provides both. 

When she arrives home from work later that evening, there is a package waiting for her. She opens it to reveal a black silk gown. The cut of the fabric is beautiful. Her jaw drops when she sees the Chanel label. This likely cost more than the entirety of the clothing she owns put together.

There’s a note that simply reads: Wear this tomorrow - A.

She smiles at the neatness of his handwriting. Aemond is a strange man, and yet she can’t help the intrigue she feels towards him. This is his second act of generosity towards her in the space of a week and they’ve yet to even meet.

She spends all of Saturday ensuring she is waxed, exfoliated and moisturised all over, before carefully styling her hair and applying make-up that she feels will do the eye-wateringly expensive dress she’s been given to wear justice. 

She is jittery with nerves when a sleek, black sports car pulls up outside the block of flats. She can just tell it’s Aemond, nothing that costs that much has any business being on this side of town otherwise.

She hurries downstairs to meet him, eager to avoid the embarrassment of him seeing the mess that is the inside of the pokey, little flat she shares with Mysaria.

He steps out of the car and she inhales sharply at the sight of him. He is tall, at least six foot easily, despite her wearing heels he still towers over her. A well tailored, black suit clings to his long, lithe form and his white hair is pulled back neatly into a bun that sits at the nape of his neck.

“You must be Aemond.” She says, praying her make-up is enough to hide the evidence of how hot her face currently feels.

“Mmm. Yes, I must. You look good.” His right eye rakes appreciatively over her form, and when his left doesn’t follow the motion, she realises it’s a prosthetic. “Shall we go?”

He gestures towards the car, walking around to the passenger’s side to open the door for her.

He fills her in on what’s expected of her as he drives. His nephew, Jace, has gotten engaged to his longtime girlfriend, Baela. He is sick of fending off questions around why he’s not with anyone yet, especially from that side of the family. He expects her to stick by his side for the evening and he’ll deal with any awkward questions that may arise.

They arrive and Aemond is ever the gentleman, quickly stepping out of the car to open the door for her and offer her a hand out. 

She shivers at the feel of his hand against hers and is stunned further still when he interlocks their fingers, keeping a firm hold of her hand as they enter the house.

“Just play along.” He whispers.

She is immediately struck by the opulence of it all as they walk through the foyer. This is a family that comes from old money. It was clear from the antique furnishings and vaulted ceilings that the Targaryens had always had money and always would.

She balks a little, unsure of if she will fit in, suddenly self conscious. Aemond seems to pick up on this.

“Relax.” He whispers to her. “Everyone here looks like shit compared to you.”

His words, combined with the tickle of his breath against the shell of her ear sends a shiver down her spine.

True to his word, he doesn’t let her stray from his side the entire evening. The tension between family members is unmistakable. The sneers with which a trio of dark haired young men regard Aemond is incredibly off putting.

She is informed by Aemond that the eldest of them is Jace, whose engagement they are here to celebrate. She meets Aemond’s mother, the doe eyed, auburn haired woman is pretty and seems shocked but delighted at the sight of her son with an actual date on his arm.

The lies that flow from his mouth are effortless. He had met her at the museum she works at when he’d come in to browse an exhibition. They’d hit it off instantly and been inseparable ever since.

Every touch of his hand at the small of her back feels like a brand and as the night goes on, and the champagne continues to flow freely, she finds herself eagerly playing up to the part of dutiful girlfriend. She leans into every touch, her eyes fluttering closed at the gentle press of his lips to her hairline. He is respectful, too respectful, never getting handsy or going for a full on the lips kiss.

When the evening draws to a close and he escorts her back to the passenger side of his car, she feels bereft at the loss of his touch as he moves around to the driver’s seat.

“You did well this evening.” He tells her as she starts the engine. “We put on quite the show.”

Remembering that none of this was real, that she’d been paid to be here startles her out of her tipsy fantasy that this is an actual relationship and her mouth presses into a tight line as she nods.

They drive in silence for a while before Aemond speaks again.

“If you’re up for it, my mother is having a birthday meal this Wednesday. She mentioned tonight she’d love for you to come. Are you available? I’ll pay you, obviously.”

So much for this not feeling like prostitution. She’s already paid off her student loan, she could just say no, but then she wouldn’t get to see him again.

“Y-yeah, sounds good.” She says meekly.

They pull up outside the block of flats and, right on cue, Aemond is striding around the car to get her door. She wobbles on her heels as she climbs out, the effects of the evening’s alcohol getting the better of her, and falls against his chest.

His large hands move to steady her by the shoulders and as she looks up into his face she is struck by how gorgeous he really is. 

Her eyes slowly close, as she leans in, her lips pressing towards his.

His grip on her shoulders tightens, pushing her back ever-so gently. “You don’t need to do that.”

Her eyes snap back open, shame coursing through her like liquid fire. “Oh…”

“I’ll text you the details about Wednesday. Thanks again for tonight.”

He gets back into the car, driving away as she stands on the kerbside, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 60

part 1 | part 59 | ao3

cw: reference to canonical minor character death

Max slams the phone down, knocking her forehead against the wall. Sixteen calls in a row and still no answer. “I give up,” she sighs. “You should just go.” “Seriously?” Steve protests. “And just leave you here? Alone? After—?” After all that? He throws his hands out like an umpire calling a safe. “No. No way.” “Look, my mom will be home soon, you can’t—” “—I’m not letting you get hurt—!” “—What are you gonna do? Fight my nightmares for me?”

“Maybe I will,” Steve mutters under his breath, pissed off and replaying the conversation on repeat while he gets ready. Feels like a psycho for doing it; feels certifiably unhinged just going about his evening after everything that happened, putting on a clean shirt and choking himself in a cloud of Farrah Fawcett spray so he can go pick up the sweet-but-stupid girl named Brenda he promised to take to the game tonight; so he can go cheer in the bleachers like he didn’t almost die.

(Or like, very vividly hallucinate his own death, which... Yeah. Doesn’t feel any less horrific.)

But whatever. Max is right. Without El, there’s really nothing to do but wait. Hop’s dead, Bob’s dead, Joyce is thirty hours away. Owens is off the table, too. What’s Steve gonna do? Call the government and tell them to come nuke the boogeyman? He doesn’t have any proof. 

He also doesn’t want to freak Dustin or any of the other kids out without knowing for sure what’s going on and what, if anything, can be done about it, so...

Fuck.

Fuck!

He gets dressed; he goes out. Picks up Brenda and does his best to be nice to her even though she gets on his nerves the moment she gets into his car, and he buys them sodas at the gas station and doesn't say a word when she spills Sprite down the side of his passenger seat.

The school is packed when they show up — the crowd in high spirits, the marching band leading chants. Nancy's reporting from the sidelines, Lucas is laughing with his teammates on the bench, and Steve leads Brenda toward the bleachers and does his best not to think. Not about the graveyard, not Max, not the looming threat of cosmic terrors. Not about the fact that Eddie is somewhere in this building, probably looking all hot and menacing while he leads tonight's campaign. Probably perched on a prop throne drinking Mountain Dew from a painted chalice like a fucking dork; probably making it look sexy, anyway. Tight jeans, legs spread, an air of casual command…

Steve could go find him. He could make everyone else leave; he could get on his knees and crawl between Eddie's legs—

"Does it bother you that we might win the championship, like, right after you graduated?"

Reality comes back like a slap in the face. "Yeah, that's an excellent question, Brenda, thank you so much for bringing that up."

They get settled into their seats, and Steve wishes he were more excited when the ref throws the jump ball, but he mostly just wants to go home. ("You always want to go home," the Robin in his head reminds him, and the Robin in real life throws him a weird look when she catches him snorting to himself about it.) He's just tired. Worn down in his bones, hollowed where he thinks his marrow should be, and he's clinging to normalcy with a sort of sweaty desperation that he’s pretty sure Brenda can smell on him because the date just sucks; it’s so bland, so mutually boring and bored. He spends most of the night mouthing stupid shit at Robin or keeping a sharp eye on the court — anything to ignore his proximity to Eddie; anything to drown out his messed-up head and heart. 

When the game finally ends Brenda gets a ride to a party with some friends. Steve goes back to Dustin’s place and paces a hole into the carpet. Stays up until 3 A.M., humming a Fleetwood Mac song.

In the morning, he tells himself as he drifts into fitful sleep. 

In the morning it’ll be fine. 

In the morning Max will come by the store like she promised, and they’ll keep trying until they get ahold of El, or Owens, or someone, and that someone will know what to do and how to help.

—

In the morning the TV tells him there’s a dead girl in his house.

—

part 61

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[shirecorn]

this is a bit silly but i have strabismus and i never see anyone make designs with it. so thanks! it made me feel really nice!

I know four people with strabismus! It's actually really common occurrence in real life.

This particular design based on the canon appearance of a My Little Pony character.

In both canon and fandom, she is shown to be extremely clumsy, makes many mistakes, and speaks in somewhat of a monotone. A lot of people consider her autistic-coded.

Both autism and strabismus are great! But misaligned eyes have been used as a shorthand for stupidity in animation and comics for a very long time. So I don't like to pair them, personally.

Apparently strabismus does occur more frequently in autistic people! But there are way more people who have it who are allistic.

I'm of the opinion that you can pair traits together that just happen to align with stereotypes as long as you have those traits represented separately in other characters. There's quite a few ponies who are easy to interpret as autistic, but she's the only one I can think of with strabismus, and unfortunately her personality is easy to write off as "stupid." A good way to fix this without changing the character is to have a variety of other allistic characters with strabismus and other traits that don't reinforce stereotypes.

The same goes for other over-done tropes that combine traits. If your only gay character is a cop, that's suspect like you're just checking boxes. But if you have lots of gays in a variety of professions then cop becomes just one of the many flavors of gay. The same goes for childlike or autistic asexuals, and ethnic stereotypes like aggressive black characters, or tech-support indians. All of these people exist! But they also exist (much more frequently) without those combinations. So adding diversity to your world is important.

I don't think I have any ocs with strabismus, so I'll bestow the honor on one or several of them. I'm glad my art made you feel nice, I hope to do more of that in the future!