#the chair would only make her angrier

[zeussim]

I used to bar my door with a chair to prevent my mom barging in and yelling at me when I'd left dinner before I was allowed to (often because of an argument). And I was like 'this is normal. This is what parents are like.' No it's fucking not. Or at least they're not supposed to be like that.

[brokenmenswhore]

I need more stuff with poly!maraudersxreader spicy stuff🤭

i am but your humble servant 🙇‍♀️

mean | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, & sirius)

summary: the boys get jealous seeing you with a study partner, and you reap the consequences when you tell sirius he was being ‘mean’

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, use of the word daddy twice

a/n: is my sirius favoritism showing too much or no

────── ☾ ──────

“I don’t think I’ll ever actually understand this class,” you said, the library study session beginning to take its toll.

“You’re getting it!” Evan encouraged, “we just need to work on it a little bit more.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, but I think after four hours, I either get it or I don’t,” you replied.

“I don’t mind the time,” Evan said, “especially when I get to spend it with you.”

Your three boyfriends could hear every single word exchanged between the two of you, being that they were seated only two tables away, and the second they heard Evan’s statement, Sirius jolted upwards from his chair.

“Sit down,” Remus instructed, “what are you gonna do? Kill him in the middle of our entire year?”

“Yeah, Remus, I just might,” Sirius responded, but still sat back down, eyes never leaving the two of you.

“You have to trust her, Sirius,” James scolded.

“It’s not her I don’t trust,” Sirius said, nostrils flaring in a rage.

Evan was sitting much closer to you than the boys were comfortable with, but they had to trust that you would shut him down if he overstepped.

“Yeah, this has at least been fun!” you told Evan, “but I think I’m a lost cause. This library is beginning to feel like an asylum.”

Evan shrugged, “I mean, we could change the scenery if that’s the problem. There’s usually not anyone in the fifth year potions classroom after the midday class. It would be quiet, and we could be alone and really focus.”

Evan shifted his chair even closer to you, placing an arm around the back of your chair, and leaning closer to you.

“That’s it, I’m gonna kill him,” Sirius said, standing up and reaching your table before Remus or James could keep him at bay.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sirius spat, hands on the table as he leaned in, standing across from you.

“Studying?” you replied as Evan backed off.

“Studying,” he mocked in a high tone, “tell him he better get the fuck away from you if he wants to continue breathing.”

“I’m right here, Black, if you have a problem, say it straight to me,” Evan retorted, standing up to meet Sirius’s eye level.

“Ok, Rosier,” Sirius cleared his throat, “I have a problem with you attempting to feel up my girlfriend and then get her alone. I also have a problem with the lack of bruising on your face.”

“Sirius!” you and Remus scolded in unison, the other two boys now next to Sirius, ready to pull him back if he decided to lunge.

“I didn’t do a single thing,” Evan protested, “but if you’re so insecure that you think studying means she’ll cheat on you, maybe she never really liked you in the first place. She could do better anyway.”

Sirius went to jump over the table, but Remus and James held onto one arm each, holding him back as Evan laughed.

“This is not worth it,” Evan told you, “I’ll see you around.”

“Evan, I’m sorry-“ you tried to say as he walked away, your attention turning to Sirius. You were angry with him for the way he was acting, but his fury far outweighed yours.

Remus and James dropped their grip on Sirius when he calmed down. Sirius glared daggers into you. “Just studying, eh?”

“We were just studying until you tried to attack him,” you retorted.

“Go to the dorm room now before I decide to make you feel sorry right here. We’ll meet you up there.”

“But I still-“

“Now.”

The rage in Sirius’ voice was not something to take lightly. When he was mad, making him angrier often ended badly. You retreated to the dorms, seated cross-legged on your bed with a textbook open as you waited for your boyfriends to arrive.

The door to the dorms swung open so hard that the door slammed open against the wall. All three of your partners entered the room, Sirius stomping straight over to you and wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Had a fun day toying with other boys, huh?” he asked.

“Sirius, please, I really was just trying to study,” you pleaded, eyes finding Remus and James and searching for help, “you guys should know that I would never do that to you.”

“I know, baby,” Sirius’ voice weakened, his anger breaking at your pleas, “I’m just mad someone else tried to take what’s mine.”

“I think he was trying to make us jealous, too,” Remus added, “and it worked.”

“Is that what the big issue is?” you asked for clarification, “you’re all jealous?”

“He got really close to you,” James responded, the candor in his voice hurting your heart.

“I’m yours,” you said, grabbing the wrist around your throat, “I’m all of yours, and yours only, you know that.”

“We know,” Sirius said, “I’m just so mad. I can’t calm down.”

“You need to release the energy, Sirius,” James said, “you’re never gonna get past this if you don’t.”

Sirius looked into your eyes, and you gave him a slight nod, signaling to him that he could use you to release the energy. He had a lot of pent up rage from the earlier incident that he needed to let out. He needed to remind you, and himself, that you were his.

Sirius crashed his lips onto yours, a hand still on your throat as he pushed you back against the headboard.

Remus threw the textbook in front of you onto the floor, pulling your legs from their position until they were out in front of you. He kissed up your thighs until he was under your skirt, kissing on top your underwear as you let out a small moan into Sirius’s mouth.

Remus moved your underwear to the side, immediately diving in between your folds with his tongue, causing you to gasp. Sirius pulled away from your mouth, allowing him to hear the noises you made. You whined as Remus shoved his tongue into your soaking wet hole, the intrusion catching you off guard.

“Shit, Remmy,” you whimpered.

“Gotta remind you who you belong to, dove,” James spoke, taking a seat on the bed next to you, “you remember?”

“I’m y-yours, shit, James, all yours,” you whined as Remus continued to fuck you with his tongue, your hand taking its place on his head, fingers entwined in his hair, holding him in place.

“No fair,” Sirius pouted, “why do you get to hear her moan your name when I’m the one who got mad in the first place?”

“Y-ou were mean,” you explained, breathing heavy, making talking difficult as ever, trying to give Sirius the reason you weren’t focusing your attention to him, despite your better judgement.

Remus heard you and immediately stopped his assault on your core. You tried to push his head back down in desperation, but he took your hands off of his head, pinning them to your sides.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Sirius questioned, tone low and dark.

“Nothing,” you answered, hoping they would let it go but knowing better.

“I was mean, huh? I don’t deserve to hear you moan my name then, is that it? You think you’re so big and powerful, punishing me because I was mean?” Sirius was growing angrier and angrier, his rage overtaking him again.

“I- I’m sorry,” you tried to backtrack.

“No, no, it’s too late for that now. If you think I don’t deserve to hear you, then I won’t do anything that constitutes a noise. You don’t want me, then so be it.”

“No, please, I do, I want you, please-“

“Tell it to James,” Sirius cut you off. He was mad at you for talking back to him, and mad about earlier, but he was strictly doing this to punish you. He knew you loved how he fucked you when he was mad, and he was threatening to deny you what you wanted.

“Jamesie, please, tell him that I w-“

“Uh uh,” James tutted, “you’re with me now, not Sirius. You don’t get to have him now.”

You pouted, tears threatening to spill as you looked up at James. He leaned over you, kissing your forehead before your lips, distracting you with his mouth before a hand lifted up your skirt and traveled beneath the waistband of your underwear, finding its home on your pearl.

James began to rub in circles, eliciting a moan in the kiss.

“Remus, I think you can go back now,” James spoke.

Remus kept your hands pinned at your sides but shifted downward, tongue reentering you as James rubbed you off, the feeling of two different men on your core driving you insane.

Sirius slumped down on a chair a few feet away, lighting a cigarette as he watched Remus and James overstimulate you as they held you down.

“Jamie, please,” you moaned.

“Please what, dove?” James asked, beginning to touch any part of your core he could, the pleasure becoming too much to handle.

“Please let me come,” you begged.

James looked at Remus, who made eye contact with him, but never left you alone. He shoved his tongue in and out of you, curling it upwards once inside, eyes focused on James as he waited for any signal to stop.

James, however, was always the nicest to you in the bedroom. Though he knew Sirius and Remus would usually stop now, he was making the call, and he hated denying you your pleasure, even if you were being punished.

He leaned in and kissed you, his touch quickening and hardening as Remus continued to taste as much of you as he could, causing your climax to hit you without warning. You squealed and moaned into James’s mouth, legs shaking as Remus licked up any remnants of your high before pulling away from you and standing up.

You attempted to catch your breath as Sirius took one last drag of his cigarette, extinguishing the flame and walking over to you, your cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm down.

“See, you didn’t need me, did you?” Sirius taunted.

“I-“

“Still don’t want me?”

You furiously shook your head no. “No, nonono, I want you, please, I need you,” you begged.

“Even though I’m so fucking mean?” he spat, intentionally working himself up to an angry place again.

“Yes, daddy, please,” you replied, using the name for him that you knew he couldn’t resist.

Sirius growled, tugging on his jeans and crawling over you, lightly kissing your neck before meeting your gaze.

“Beg for me,” he demanded.

Your heart was beating so hard it made your chest sore. “Please, daddy, I want you.”

“I think he’s earned hearing his name, sweetheart,” Remus spoke from beside you.

“Please, I need you so bad, Siri, I-“

The second you spoke his name, Sirius pushed your skirt up to your waist and your underwear to the side, inserting his entire length into you in one quick motion, a move he loved to use when he was punishing you for something. Though he had been inside of you plenty of times, he was too large to simply just start fucking you without a warm up, unless, that is, he was purposefully being mean.

You let out a high pitched moan at the intrusion, always forgetting just how deep his cock hits within you.

He then pulled almost his entire length out of you before slamming it back in, your body jolting upwards at the feeling of his hips snapping against yours. He started to fuck you, fast and hard, leaving no time for you to adjust to him or his size.

“Siri, fuck,” you moaned.

“That’s it,” he breathed, “you’re all mine. You fucking belong to me.”

All three boys were possessive of you, but knew you ‘belonged’ to all three of them, not just one. However, when Sirius was mad, the other boys didn’t matter. They knew he needed to feel like you were his and only his. All the boys needed that one-on-one intimacy at times, but Sirius craved it all the time, and sometimes Remus suspected that he really did wish you were all his.

“It’s too much, can’t- I c-“ you started to plead, but Sirius didn’t care, continuing his ruthless pace that nearly had your head slamming upwards into the headboard with each thrust.

“You can, and you will,” Sirius spoke, “you’re all fucking mine. I don’t even want anyone else near you. You’re gonna take it like a good girl so that everyone can hear who you belong to, understood?”

You nodded, taking a moment to process that you had to speak. “Yes, Siri.”

“Good girl,” he said, one of his hands grabbing your throat as he snapped his hips at an almost violent pace.

“Siri, please, I’m gonna c-“

“You know you’re supposed to wait until he comes,” Remus reminded you, “or else it just isn’t fair.”

“B- but- I-“

“No buts,” Remus said, running a thumb over your cheek to collect the tears that were now falling, “you wait until Siri is ready, and then you come with him. He deserves at least that much.”

Your walls were clenching around his cock, and you fought desperately not to come. You knew you were supposed to wait and come in unison with whoever was fucking you, but you were overstimulated, and Sirius’s possessiveness was hot.

“That’s right, baby, you gotta wait,” Sirius cooed, “my girl only comes when I say she can. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Siri, I’m yours,” you responded, your hands grabbing desperately at his shoulders to steady yourself, “all yours.”

Sirius ran a hand over your body, scanning every inch of you as he fucked you. “All mine,” he whispered, almost more to himself than to you.

Sirius’s thrusts began to become erratic and sloppy, his high approaching as his clock twitched inside of you.

“You gonna come with me, love?” Sirius asked, and you whined in response, signaling that you were ready.

Sirius tightened his grip around your throat. “Come for me,” he commanded, “for me and only me.”

Your walls clenched around Sirius one last time as you came around him, one final “Sirius!” leaving your lips as you did.

The feeling of you coming around him caused Sirius to reach his high, his final few thrusts sharp and deep inside of you.

He took a moment to collect himself and catch his breath before pulling out of you.

“You remember who you belong to now?” James asked, sweetly repositioning your skirt over you to allow you modesty as you calmed down.

“Mhm,” you began to feel tired, “I’m all of yours.”

[g3tosugu]

their reactions to you showing up with an injury

wriothesley, neuvillette, baizhu, alhaitham, xiao x f!reader

cw: mentions of blood and injuries (nothing terribly graphic), weapons, fighting, mentions of kidnapping. please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i will admit xiao's is not in keeping with the prompt bc you dont really "show up" injured but this is my post and i can do as i please teehee :3c

Wriothesley

As you carefully make your way down through the Fortress of Meropide, you keep your guard up. The wound that you sustained is causing a searing pain to spread across your side. Once you make it through the doors to Wriothesley's office, you finally collapse to your knees. "Is someone there?" you hear Wriothesley's voice ring out from upstairs. "It's just me" you respond in a much weaker voice than you anticipated. You really had spent all of your energy. You force yourself to your feet and begin the daunting ascension up the stairs. Once you reach the top, you see him sitting at his desk, eyes glued to a document in front of him. Before you can even say anything, you're falling to your knees again.

"Y/n?!" Wriothesley immediately jumps out of his chair and runs over to your side. "Archon, what happened to you? Let me go notify someone to get Miss Sigewinne" he started towards the stairs behind you. "No!" you stop him, "Please just...don't bother her with this". "Sweetheart, don't be ridiculous. Do you know how she would feel if she heard you say that?" he returns back to your side and kneels down to check you over. His eyes snap immediately to the red splotch on your right side.

"You're bleeding. We need to get you to the infirmary now-"

"Sigewinne told me there was a group of individuals she overheard saying mean things about her while she was visiting the surface. She confided in me and I comforted her to reassure her that they are foolish and don't know what they are talking about" you explain. Wriothesley stares at you as his brain connects the dots.

"Y/n-"

"Don't say it. I know. I had never seen Sigewinne so saddened before. It pained me to see her feel so down about herself over the words of some random mean spirited people. I don't want her to know I went looking for them and got hurt. It would only make her feel worse".

Wriothesley looks at you with sympathy in his eyes, "I can't say I wouldn't have had similar instincts. I’m just surprised you were stupid enough to act on them". "Thanks" you roll your eyes and try to rise to your feet again. He's quick to assist you and help you move to the couch. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get some supplies" he quickly disappears.

When he returns, he begins tending to your wounds. Once he sees the cut on your side, scrapes on your arms, the scrape on your cheek and the dried blood on your hands, he feels his body heat with anger. "I'm not the one who wanted to fight. I just wanted to tell them off. There was one guy that got physical first" you start explaining how it happened. That alone just made him angrier. He clenches his jaw and bites his tongue to allow you to keep speaking. "He told me to mind my business and that he didn't even know who I was until I told him. That's when he realized that..." you trail off. Wriothesley's eyes look up from your wound for a moment. "His brother is a prisoner here at the fortress. He told me that you had his sentence increased after there was an altercation between him and another prisoner" you admit.

"That has nothing to do with you though" he finishes bandaging your wound. He hands you one of his black button down shirts to wear since your own clothing was ruined. As you button the shirt, he searches your face. "You're not telling me something" he puts a hand on his hip. "Why would he get you involved in something that’s between me and him?" he questions. "It's not about me being involved with what happened. It's that he knows we’re together" you play with the hem of the shirt. His arms drop to his side, "He attacked you as a means of hurting me?". You nod and sigh in response. He sits down next to you and throws an arm around you to pull you into his side. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and you notice the fist in his lap that is curled into a tight fist.

"Please, tell me the name of this gentleman. Because I'll be damned if I let him hurt my girl without punishment".

Neuvillette

It was your own fault for getting curious about this cavern you had found out on one of your adventure guild commissions. Now, here you are limping to the Palais Mermonia. It's later in the evening so there are hardly any people out. There was a Melusine who noticed you were injured but you told her you were going to see the Chief Justice and that he would take care of you.

You walk through the doors of Neuvillette's office and he immediately turns to face you, ignoring the document he was just glancing over. When he notices the limp in your walk he is quick to come to your aid. "You're injured? Please, allow me" he scoops you off your feet and carries you over to the sofa. When you're sitting comfortably, he kneels to the ground to examine your ankle.

"It appears it's just twisted. Best you keep off of it as much as possible for the time being" he sighs in relief. When he stands back up and looks down at you, that's when he notices the cut you have on your cheek as well. He disappears without saying a word and returns with a cloth and a bottle of some sort of clear liquid. He sits next to you and puts some of the liquid on the cloth before gently applying it to your cut. You wince at the sting for a moment and he stops, "This is just to prevent it from getting infected. I apologize if it is painful" he continues to gently dab at the injury. "I do wish you would be more careful when you're out doing your tasks" he softly lectures you. "I know" you nod, "I'm sorry". "You need not apologize to me, my dear. I am just simply voicing my concern for you" he places the bottle of liquid and cloth on the table.

"I don't want you to worry about me" you reach over and brush some of the hair from his face. As your hand falls away, he grabs your fingertips in his hand and places a soft kiss to the back of your own. "I know you don't. I don't necessarily want to worry so often either" he admits and holds your hand in between both of his and places it in his lap. "Do you ever wish I worked here at the Palais with you instead of with the Adventurer’s Guild?" you ask. "Hmm" he thinks about your question for a moment. "My initial answer would be yes. But I'm afraid it's just for my own selfish reasons so they carry no relevance" he soothingly rubs your hand.

You place your other hand on top of his, "If I didn't want your honest thoughts I wouldn't have asked. So please be open with me, my love" you cup his cheek. He leans into your touch and sighs. "I would prefer if you worked at the Palais so I could keep a better eye on you, yes. Knowing you are away and willingly putting yourself in danger does fill me with a sense of anxiety. It's strange. In all my years of living amongst humans I've never known what it would be like to feel such strong attachments to one" he goes on. Your heart leaps at his earnest confession. "I will consider your words. I'd be lying if I didn't say I wanted to be in your presence more often. Either way I think we work well together and I wouldn't be opposed to working in a less physically demanding environment" you give him some hope. "My dear, you don't need to meet my wishes so easily. Please give it some more consideration before making any definitive decisions" he leans over and kisses your forehead.

"It is my duty to protect the people of Fontaine but it is my privilege to be your companion".

Baizhu

It's embarrassing really. Qiqi had encountered an issue at the pharmacy this morning when someone requested some Qingxin and for some reason there were none in stock. "Oh, um, I'm sorry...It appears we are completely out of Qingxin" she apologized to the customer. You could see how truly distraught she was at the situation so you went out on your own to retrieve some Qingxin. How were you supposed to know it was going to start raining and you would slip and fall in the mud?

When you hit the ground, the arm you had out to brace yourself with made contact with a jagged piece of stone. After washing the wound with water from a nearby stream, you tried your best to get some of the earth off your clothing. Then, you were on your way. Unfortunately, the ten Qingxin you were able to collect turned into four after your fall. They had not only been completely ruined by the mud but a couple had landed underneath you, effectively being crushed under your weight.

You brace yourself for the lecture you are more than likely going to receive from Baizhu. Walking into his home, you see him sitting in a chair looking at a book of some sort. His eyes look up from the book so he can greet you and he sees the poor state you are in. "What in Teyvat happened, my love?" he rises to his feet and places his book on the table. "Well...I was getting Qingxin because Qiqi said we didn't have any at the pharmacy and then it started raining" you take off your coat and wince at the pain in your arm. His eyes widen, "Let's get you cleaned up and then I will get started on tending to your injuries".

One quick shower and a set of fresh loungewear later, you are sitting on the couch as Baizhu tends to you. "You really should be more careful. I would hate for something truly awful to happen to you and I can't be there to aid you" he sighs as he carefully works on finishing the stitches for your arm. The rock apparently ended up cutting you deeper than you had originally thought. "I just didn't want Qiqi to be upset" you look at the ground. His eyes look up from your arm for a moment to look at your face. The genuine disappointment in your own eyes makes his heart sink.

"It was very kind of you to go out of your way to help her. I'm sure you know it also means a great deal to me that you care for her so deeply" he starts wrapping your arm in a bandage. You look over at him with a gentle smile. "She always tries her best despite her own circumstances. In a way, I'm almost envious of her" you admit. Baizhu grabs your legs and places them over his lap. He lifts the material of your lounge pants up your legs and his hands begin to knead at the flesh of your legs to soothe your aching muscles. "You know she wouldn't want you to put yourself in any imminent danger just for her sake, yes?" he inquires. You nod in response and look down in shame.

"I don't mean to make you feel bad. That is never my intention. I just wish you cared for yourself the way you care for others" he slides the legs of your lounge pants back down as he finishes massaging your muscles. "I'll work on it" you smile apologetically at him. He smiles warmly in response before pulling you onto his lap. You snake your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist. His hair is freed from its usual styling and is freshly combed through. You tuck some of his hair behind his ear. A soft hum emits from his throat as he turns his head to kiss your wrist, prompting you to keep your hand near. The gesture warms your heart and you gently cup his cheek in your hand.

"Who needs Qingxin when I've got the most valuable and healing flower in all of Teyvat, right here at my fingertips".

Alhaitham

The last thing you expected was to get ambushed by a bunch of eremites just outside of Sumeru City. It was a five man group of former associates of Ayn Al-Ahmar. The plan was to kidnap you and hold you hostage as a means of getting Alhaitham to fall into a trap they would have preemptively set up. Fortunately for you, Dehya was near the entrance of Sumeru City when she heard you trying to fight off the group of men in the distance and noticed a flash of a vision ability from where she stood. When she got there, you were clearly already visibly spent. There was still one man in a standoff with you. 

In your moment of weakness, you stumble forward and before you could even react, the man darts towards you and attempts to sink his dagger into your abdomen. You quickly try to defend yourself and manage to grab his wrist. Even though you have your grip on him, he uses as much strength as he can and you can feel the tip of the blade pierce your skin. You grunt and grind your teeth as you desperately use the strength you no longer have to fight him off. Dehya quickly takes action and subdues the man before he has the chance to overpower you. Now that you can finally put your guard down, you place your hand where the dagger had got you. The blood that appears on your hands as you pull your palm away makes you queasy and dizzy. "Y/n? Hey! Y/n!" you hear Dehya call out to you and see her run toward you. But it's no use. You fall to the ground unconscious.

When you awake, you look around you and notice you are in Alhaitham's living room. "You're awake" you hear Alhaitham say at your side. You turn your head and he's sitting on the loveseat across from the one you are on. As you go to sit up you are immediately met with a burning pain in your side. "Hey, easy. Don't move too much" he comes to your side and gently pushes you back down onto your back. "I had Tighnari drop off some incense to help relax your body and hopefully speed along the healing process" he explains as he carefully adjusts the pillow underneath your head and sits down on the edge of the loveseat. You look up at the ceiling, "How did I even get here?".

He sighs, "Dehya brought you. I sent Kaveh out to get some first aid supplies". "They did this because of me didn't they?" he gently places his hand over where you were stabbed. "Don't do that Alhaitham" you grab his hand with your own. "I'm not saying I claim responsibility for what happened. I just don't think it's worth being in a relationship with me" he admits wholeheartedly, but not in a self pitying way. If anything he pities the fact that you ended up in this position due to something that was beyond your control. "It's not going to take a fight with a bunch of guys, who have nothing better to do, to make me just walk away from this" you squeeze his hand.

"This?" he looks down at you. "What? I think what we have together is much more precious to me than you may realize" you search his eyes for an inkling of what he may currently be thinking. A gentle smile appears on his face. "You mean everything to me. I mean it" he brushes a small strand of hair away from your face. You feel the weight of the loveseat shift underneath you as Alhaitham leans down and places a tender kiss to your lips. Your hand reaches up to the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss.

"Okay! I'm back with-" Kaveh suddenly walks into the house. Alhaitham immediately removes himself from you with a grunt. "You just couldn't wait at least five more minutes before barging in here?" he complains. Kaveh places the items he was asked to retrieve on the table. "Oh, well excuse me for trying to gather the items that are supposed to help her feel better" he barks. Alhaitham just glares at him with his eyes narrowed. "Okay, fine! I get it. I'll leave you to suck face with your girlfriend" he disappears into his room with a huff.

"He's just jealous he's not the one out here that gets to kiss you the way I get to".

Xiao

Yep, you are definitely lost. All you were tasked with was going to Liyue Harbor to get some produce for Wangshu Inn. At some point down the line in your route, you came across a group of monsters and in an attempt to avoid them you went another way. Unfortunately the way you went instead ended up leading you down a path you were unfamiliar with.

A rustle in the bushes to your left startles you, causing you to trip over your feet and fall to the ground. The produce you had gathered from Liyue Harbor is now scattered on the ground all around you. As you lift your arm to start gathering the items back together, you wince and notice a pretty deep cut. You grit your teeth and try to ignore it. The rustling in the bushes startles you once again except this time, a wild boar is charging out towards you. It knocks into you and you go to take a step back to catch yourself but you fail to notice the drop off of the cliff. You slip and fall but somehow manage to catch yourself on a piece of foliage growing out of the side of the cliff edge. The arm you are forced to use to hold yourself up is the arm with the cut. Pain sears through your arm and you feel your grip slipping. Before you can catch yourself, the anchor you once held onto slips through your fingers. You are now free falling.

Your mind is filled with thoughts of Xiao and the moment you shared before you left Wangshu Inn for Liyue Harbor. He told you to be safe and call his name if you ran into trouble and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before reassuring you would be safe. "Adeptus Xiao!" you shout up at the sky as you force your eyes shut. Within an instant you feel a pair of arms around you and in the blink of an eye you are safely on the ground. You fall to your knees as your legs give out under you from the panic that continues coursing through your body.

Xiao kneels down in front of you and places a hand on your cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now" he speaks low and soft. You look at him and start to steady your breathing. "I-" you stutter, "I am sorry for being so careless". "Shh" he shushes you, "I'm just relieved you're alright". He checks you over and notices the cut on your arm and his face hardens. "We need to get you back to Wangshu Inn. Please take my hand?" he holds his hand out for you to take and you of course oblige. And almost as quickly as you take his hand in yours, you are back at Wangshu Inn.

He leads you over to his bed and has you sit down. "I'll be right back to dress your wound" he swiftly exits. When he comes back he begins cleaning your wound with a rag and starts applying an ointment of some sort. "It's supposed to speed up the healing process" he notices you looking at it with curious eyes. As he bandages your arm you study his face. "Why are you looking at me?" he tries to fight back a grin. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you. Adeptus Xiao" you smile fondly at him. His eyes snap up to yours and you can almost feel a pull between the two of you. You both subconsciously lean toward each other until you are just centimeters away from each other's faces. Your breaths tangle together between the two of you as he presses his forehead against yours. His hand reaches for the side of your head and he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is almost urgent. Like you don't have much time left together. Your hand lifts to wrap around the wrist of his hand that gently cradles the side of your head. When your lips part, your foreheads press together again. "You should get some sleep. It will help you heal faster" he removes his hand from your head. As you get comfortable in the bed, he crawls in beside you and holds you against his chest. "Why did you wait until after you fell to call for me?" he asks. "What?" you feign ignorance. "The marks on your hand" he grabs your hand in his and opens your palm to reveal small cuts that you obtained when your grip slipped. "I thought I could save myself" you sigh in disappointment. He kisses your forehead and tucks your head under his chin.

"I know that you are more than capable of saving yourself. But don't ever forget it is always my honor to save you. There aren't many things I hold close to me in this existence. But you are the most precious thing I will always hold close".

[latenightdaydreams]

The Chair (fem)

Poll story!

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, mentions of cheating, p in v, oral, cucking, dirty talk

3.3k word count

🪑

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After three years of marriage, you found out that your husband, Hugo, has been having an affair for the last two years. He completely broke your heart. Trust was something you struggled to build, and he just completely shattered yours. After only three months of therapy, Hugo comes to you with the idea of making things ‘even’ between the two of you; allowing you to cuck him.

Hugo only made you even angrier when he said this to you. You’ve never thought about having sex with another man before. For one, your self-esteem was so low now. You love Hugo, you’ll never see another man in the same way as you see Hugo- so you thought.

It’s Saturday; you’re dressed in a simple white dress that clung to your shape. Hugo was invited to his best friend’s brother’s homecoming and took you with him. He quickly left your side at the party to go mingle with his friends, making you feel rejected. You make your way to the kitchen where it’s quiet, leaning back against the counter and looking out the window.

König sees you by yourself, so he approaches you. The way your dress clings to you catches his eyes immediately. He walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge, grabbing two beers. With one hand stretched out handing you a beer, his mask hides his expression.

“Hallo, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” His Austrian accent piques your interest.

“Oh, thank you.” You grab the beer. “I’m y/n.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m König.”

Your eyes go wide and you smile as you realize this is who everyone is waiting for. “Oh, everyone is outside waiting for you.”

“I know, I’m avoiding the crowd for as long as I can.” He chuckles as his eyes openly trail down your body. “Who are you here with?”

“Hugo—”

“Jakobs friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Who would have thought little Hugo could pull someone like you?”

A smile pulls across your lips as you let out a soft giggle. König stands at 6’10 while Hugo stands at 5’8. He chuckles with you as he steps closer to you. Just then, the sliding back doors open. It’s Hugo with Jakob.

“König!” Jakob excitedly rushes to his brother.

Hugo’s smile slowly fades away as he eyes you and König, seeing how close you two were just standing. You gazed up at him with bright eyes, the same as you used to look at Hugo with. His heart skins to his stomach.

König turns to see Hugo, his eyes dead as he glares at him. König wants his wife. Craved his wife. He’s going to have her.

A few weeks pass. König has added you on all social media. Today, while at the gym, he sent you a gym selfie. He’s shirtless and flexing. His body is riddled with scars, sculpted like a piece of art. König’s blonde hair covers part of his face, your eyes glued to the dark blonde hair that trails from his belly button down.

As you inspect the photo, you close your legs and press them together. Hugo see’s your movement and recognizes it as you being aroused. He smirks.

“What are you reading?” He stands and walks to you, assuming that you’re reading smut. As he gets closer, he sees you quickly close what looked like a man’s photo.

“Nothing.” You stand and walk away to the bedroom.

While there was a feeling nagging at him, he let it go. The sex life between the both of you is basically nonexistent since the affair came to light. He figured it was simply porn. The conversation that comes next, he wasn’t expecting.

You both sat at the dinner table, pushing your food around with your fork as you contemplated your next words. Hugo notices that you’re lost in thought. He clears his throat and sits up.

“Um, are you okay babe?”

“Hm? Yeah.” You place the fork down on your plate. “I want to talk.”

“Okay.” Hugo can feel his heart beginning to sink.

“Do you remember when you offered me the option to have sex with someone else? Cucking?”

Swallowing hard, Hugo nods with a look of dread on his face. Please don’t let it be König.

“I want to take you up on that offer.” You look up, making direct eye contact with him.

Hugo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Do you know who?” He picks up his glass of water, taking a big gulp.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Who?”

“König.”

Hugo leans back in his chair and rubs his hands over his face as he lets out a deep breath. “König?” He leans forward, arms coming down hard on the table. “What makes you think he would even like you?”

His insecurities begin to show through his words and body language. He holds himself like an injured boy. As if the simple mention of König killed his ego.

“He’s told me.” You look at him with a new found confidence.

“He told you? When?”

“We’ve been talking.”

“How?” Hugo’s eyes widened.

“Social media and texting.”

Hugo stands, combing his fingers through his hair. This can’t be happening. Not with König. “For how long?”

“Since the party.” You watch him pace back and forth.

“Have you seen him?” He stops and looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Only for lunch.” You admit.

“Only for lunch.” He repeats, shaking his head, dropping it to look at the floor.

“He said he’s free Friday night.”

Hugo slowly looks back up at you in disbelief.

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Friday night, you have fresh sheets on your bed, a bottle of wine, three wine glasses, and a chair in front of the bed. You’re dressed in a short silk negligee, the deep blue color complimenting your skin tone perfectly.

Hugo looks at you. He never thought he’d be sharing you with someone. Then he thinks about the pain he causes you over the past two years. The doorbell ringing pulls him out of his thoughts. He walks forward towards the door and opens it to see König without his mask on. His face is covered in scars, but he’s still a handsome man. Hugo always felt inferior to König, being over a foot shorter than him.

“Hallo, Hugo.” König smiles and walks past him into your home.

König’s eyes fall on you, the way your little negligee hugs your body; it’s like you’re a gift for him to open.

“Hallo, Liebling.” He walks to you and hugs your body tightly. “You look magnificent.”

“Thank you.” There is a cheerful giggle in your voice. It sickens Hugo. Your small hand slips into König’s. “Follow me.”

Hugo watched you lead König upstairs towards your shared bedroom. He followed reluctantly. He knows you’re going up with or without him.

You enter the bedroom with König. As you go to open the wine bottle, König gently swoops in and takes the bottle from you.

“I’ve got this.” He opens the bottle for you, his muscles flexing under his tight black shirt as he does so.

König pours wine into each glass, a little extra into the third. He hands you one, then turns to Hugo and hands him the fuller one. A little smirk on his lips as he looks down on Hugo. “Here go, a little extra for you to relax.”

You take a large drink of your wine and place it on the bedside table. König’s eyes travel up your legs to your plump ass, the way it sways as you move. He places his glass down alongside yours. His large hands wrap around your waist and hold you in a firm grasp.

König leans his body down, his lips pressing into yours passionately. You quickly reciprocate, your lips parting slightly to lick his lips, causing König to chuckle, “Eager little one, aren’t you?” He grabs you by your thighs and lifts you in his arms.

“You may want to take a seat now.” König turns to Hugo as he holds you in his arms.

Hugo looks at you in König’s arms as he holds you. You look like Aphrodite in Ares's arms. He saunters to the seat in front of the bed and sits, wine in hand. There is nothing else to do but to watch you with him.

König gently lays you down on the bed, his lips clashing against yours as your tongue twirls around one another’s. Slowly his lips leave yours and trail down your neck, drawing small sighs of pleasure from your mouth. One hand comes up and squeezes your breast gently, his fingers coming around your nipple and lightly pinching. A small moan leaves your lips, followed by a nervous giggle.

He backs up to see you with a warm smile, leaning down to kiss your lips again. Hugo sat, watching the chemistry shared between the two of you, and it makes him feel sick. This is suppose to be a fuck, not…whatever this is.

König stands upright and undresses. He pulls his shirt off to expose the body you’ve only ever seen in photos, in person. Your eyes roam up and down his body. He is stunning. The black shirt he had on is tossed to the edge of the bed. His hands undo his belt buckle. You sit up to help him, your lips pressing against the warm skin of his chest.

A deep sigh leaves König’s lips as he combs his fingers through your hair, your gentle kisses sending a chill throughout his body. Once his pants are undone, he pulls his pants down, kicking them off to the side. His enormous erection is pressing up against the fabric of his boxer briefs, his cock so big his tip sticks out the waistband of his underwear.

Hugo’s eyes travel up and down König’s body. He feels his anxiety spike, taking a big drink of his wine. The way you touch him, it’s as if you’ve been thinking about this for a while. You’re enjoying his body. His eyes follow your hand, go to his cock and grasp it through his underwear. König’s hands on your jaw, holding your face to him as he kisses you passionately.

You grab König’s hands and move them, kissing down his chest again until your lips reach the bit of cock sticking out. Your tongue licks over the tip, scooping up a dab of pre-cum that has come to the surface. König looks down at you as you pull down his boxer briefs, your warm wet mouth slowly wrapping around his cock.

König lets out a loud groan as he gazes down at you. He looks over to Hugo with a smile before wrapping some of your hair around his head and guiding your mouth down the shaft of his cock. You eagerly accept his cock, taking in as much as you can as you suck.

Hugo shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Even if he turns away, it doesn’t help. The sound of his cock fucking your mouth consumes the room. You gaze over at Hugo shifting uncomfortably and it made you feel happy to see. Slowly pulling your head off his cock, eyes gazing up at him.

“Let’s take this off of you.” König whispers as he moves back slightly to pull your negligee off. You lift your hands above your head and to assist him. He steps back more to see your bare breasts and the small blue thong that covers your precious little cunt.

Hugo feels sick watching König look at your body. He looks at you the same way a dog would look at a piece of meat. He’s hungry for you like Hugo has never been.

“Look at this body…you look like a work of art, Liebling.” König grabs your body and pulls you back onto the bed more.

Your head rests on your pillow as König crawls over your body. His lips meet yours as one hand explores. One caresses your cheeks, the other plays with your nipples between his fingers before moving down more to your pussy, his fingers rubbing the thin fabric. He can feel how wet you are for him and it drives him wild.

His fingers hook into the fabric of your thong and pull it down slowly. Your creamy pussy comes into view as he sees the mess you made in your underwear. “Beautiful.” He whispers to himself. Without looking back, he tosses your thong behind him. It lands on Hugo’s lap, causing him to just look at it before looking back up at you.

Hugo watches as König spreads your legs with his knees, getting his body comfortable between your legs. König’s cock rubbing up and down along your folds, relishing the wet heat. The view Hugo has, he watches as he slips his cock into your pussy. Your legs instantly tensing around König’s body. A loud moan leaves your lips as he sees König’s balls press against your ass, burying himself deep inside of your cunt.

König pulls his hips back before slamming them down into you again, watching as you jerk forward and your eyes flutter. Your fingernails are digging into his forearms as you try to hold on to him.

“Please…” You whimper.

“Please?” König teases, licking from your chin to your lips.

“Fuck me…”

König looks to his side and grabs a pillow, tossing it on the side of the bed. Without withdrawing his cock, he lifts your body and turns you. “So, Hugo can get a better view of that beautiful face with I make you cum.”

Hugo has no reaction but to glare at König. In that moment his mind begins to flash back to all the moment’s he has ever spent with König. He never thought he would be in this situation with him.

König lifts one of your legs to be over his shoulder, the other he pushes off the bed. Your foot falling on Hugo’s lap. König pulls out slightly as there are streaks of your creamy arousal up and down his cock.

“Look at that, your wife has a beautiful pussy.” König makes eye contact with Hugo before looking down at you. He grasps your breast as he fucks you.  His hips roll into you desperate to bury himself deeply into you.

Hugo can’t help but to get an erection as he watches König stretch you beyond anything he could imagine. Your face contorted into a pleasurable high, you don’t even look in his direction; as if he wasn’t even there.

“Oh my god König…” You mewl, lifting your head to look at your vagina and watch him fuck you.

“Your pussy is fucking…heavenly.” König growls.

“I love your cock.”

Hugo feels his heart drop and a pang of jealousy flare deep within. Especially when König begins to taunt him. He pulls his cock out, grabbing your effortlessly as if you were a doll. He moves the pillow too, placing you over it, lifting your ass to him.

You are now face to face with Hugo, König begins bullying his cock back into you. He grabs your waist and holds you, watching your ass bounce off of his hips as he bucks forward into you. Intertwining a handful of your hair between his fingers, he pulls your head back and makes you look at Hugo.

“Say it again, Liebling.”

“Please…” You whimper pathetically needing him to fuck you harder.

“Nein, the other thing.”

“I love your cock, König.” You moan out as you look into Hugo’s eyes. You can see the discomfort and pain he feels; you can truly careless. “Please fuck me!”

“Such a good girl!” He slaps your ass, continuing to hold your head up as he fucks you harder.

Your mouth drops open as you forget words and just babble sounds of pleasure. Hugo watches as your eyes flutter back. Reaction’s he’s never gotten out of you before. “König please!”

“Look at your husband and beg.” He growls pulling your hair harder.

“Please make me cum! Please!”

“More. Beg for another man’s cock!”

“Please! I want to cum on your cock!”

You look Hugo right in the eyes as you tremble on König’s cock. “Fuck…”

König pulls his cock out quickly and drops to his stomach between your legs. His tongue presses flat against your folds and licks up, tasting your cunt finally. His tongue lapping at your clit, causing your legs to twitch with every pass.

“I don’t know how you don’t eat this pussy every day.” König makes the comment to Hugo. “Maybe I should come over and do it for you.”

You moan and run your fingers through his hair, looking down at his pink tongue parting your folds to drink you in. If you could have König over everyday for this, you really would.

“Too bad you ship out again soon.” Hugo says in a snarky tone, reminding you both of the temporary bliss.

“Watch it, I can bring a spouse to base with me.” König makes eye contact with you as his wet lips kiss your pussy’s fat mound, biting it gently. You caress his face; he moves up to kiss your lips. Your tongue pushes out to taste yourself along his hips. König lets out a small moan; trailing his hands up and down your body, grabbing your waist and kissing you lustfully.

For a moment, you both forgot Hugo was even there. König pulls away from the kiss, letting his hand trail down your body before grabbing you and sitting you on his lap. Your back is on his chest as he drapes your legs over his muscular long legs. He scoots the edge of the bed, uncomfortably close for Hugo’s liking.

Hugo adjusts himself in his pants as he watches König grab his cock and slowly thrust up, showing it into you. He watches as your lips spread and wrap tightly around him. König wraps his arms under each of your knees and pins his hands back behind your head, holding you in the Full Nelson position.

You’re folded in half as König uses you as a flesh light. Ramming his cock rapidly into your messy wet cunt. König’s muscular legs flex with every thrust.

“Whose cock is better?” König’s voice is a low growl as he speaks.

Eye’s locked with Hugos, “Your cock König.”

Hugo looks away, still forced to hear you repeat over and over that you love König’s cock better. König’s humongous 10-inch cock over Hugo’s average 5.5-inch cock. Of course you liked his better. The way you look like you’re in a different world with every thrust, he already knew.

König can’t hold back any longer. Your little cunt is the first he’s had in four years and he’s done his best to not cum too fast. The sounds of your beautiful moans, the feel of your lovely pussy…he can’t.

“Beg for my cum, Liebling.”

“Please cum in my tight pussy.”

Hugo sits at the edge of his seat, about to speak up. You both agreed to not let him cum in you. He’s not supposed to risk getting you pregnant. It’s bad enough he’s fucking you completely raw, which you said you wouldn’t let happen.

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” König pants.

“Yes!”

Hugo watches König’s heavy balls tighten as they drain deep inside of his wife’s pussy. His cock throbs as soft moans leave his lips.

König lifts you up, letting his cock pop out of your pussy. His white cum drips out of your stretched hold. Hugo just sits and watches it drip out.

“Want to taste it?” You rub your clit teasing Hugo.

He just looks into your eyes with a serious look, a look of pain. “No.” His voice cracks slightly.

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The next morning, you wake up with a pep in your step. Your skin is glowing and a wide smile is spread across your lips. As you pour yourself a cup of coffee Hugo sits at the kitchen table, watching you. He feels sick, but at least the ‘payback’ is over, he thinks.

You sit and sip your coffee, looking at your phone. König snaps you a photo of his hard cock with the text saying, “I dreamt of you all night.”

“I can’t wait to see you again.”

“When does Hugo leave for work?”

“Come over in an hour.”

[honeysbeebears]

Sleepover Schemes // BKG

Bakugo Katsuki X Reader

In Japan, saying ‘the moon is beautiful’ is a common way to confess one’s feelings of love

Word count: a lot

Warnings: none other than I did not spell check this lol & bakugo might be a little ooc sorry

“Arent sleepovers against the rules?” You look up curiously at the girls surrounding your desk. Right now the class was on a quick break before heading over to the training session. Mina frantically began shushing you “yes! so don’t go saying it out loud like that girl!” You giggle softly “oops”

Uraraka speaks up “it’ll be fun though, we’ll have snacks, face masks, the works!” You nod, looking up at Momo “you mind if i bring makeup? I think a little makeover sesh would be fun too” Momo beams “of course! that sounds lovely” smiling back at her, you give everyone a thumbs up “im in!” the girls exclaim happy cheers before hushing up again once they realized they made a bit of a scene before going back to giggling quietly amongst themselves

In the distance, kirishima is looking over at the group in wonder “hm, wonder what’s got them all worked up” Kaminari, who is standing right next to him shrugs “eh you know them” Bakugo rolls his eyes, not paying any mind to either group before Sero speaks up

“I heard (L/N) say the word ‘sleepover’ though” with that, bakugo is glancing behind him to look at the three boys. They’re obviously up to no good

Kaminari rubs his hands together as if he’s a villain coming up with some elaborate scheme, which is exactly what he was doing “A sleepover huh?” Kirishima and Sero look at him quizzically “dude don’t tell me you-“ Kaminari quickly cuts him off “want to go spy on them?! You betcha!” He gives the boys a thumbs up, kirishima is looking a bit nervous “I dunno man, isn’t that like an invasion of privacy?” Sero nods in agreement, the yellow headed boy smirks once more at his two friends “you know what girls talk about at sleepovers….?” He says, the scheming tone in his voice evident. Bakugo is listening, not like he has a choice while he waits

“Crushes” with that, the look on Sero and Kirishima’s faces change into that of determination, Kaminari knows he’s got them convinced now. Bakugo once again sighs and rolls his eyes

“Don’t you guys want to know who a babe like (L/N) has the hots for?” He throws his arms around the two, looking at the both of them with conniving eyes. At the mention of your name, bakugo freezes as well, making an unwanted grunt that catches the attention of the three boys standing behind him

“Oh looks like Bakubro is interested as well, it’s because i mentioned (F/N) isn’t it?” He teases, Bakugo whips around in his chair “Shut the hell up dunce face” he shouts, his usual angry tone just slightly angrier at the allegation before turning back around, huffing and crossing his arms “Will you be joining us then? Cmon I know even someone like you can’t help but be curious” Before Bakugo can go off again, he looks over at your smiling face, and then imagines the three, in his words, idiots, messing with you and he sinks lower into his chair

“… Fine”

Kirishima looks down at him in shock “no way dude i totally was not expecting that” Bakugo scoffs, slightly embarrassed “I’m only going so you three ass munchers don’t do anything stupid” Kaminari covers his mouth to stifle a giggle “oh dude you’re so down bad you don’t even know it”

“I’ll blast you all the way to hell!”

The girls watch as Kaminari is running around the room, Bakugo chasing after him. Kaminari using the desks as a divider while kirishima and sero are laughing intensely at the scene

“What’s up with those guys?” Jiro questions, eyebrow raised, you shrug “you can never tell with them anymore” you and the other girls watch, entertained while Uraraka and Mina are cheering Kaminari on as he ‘breaks Bakugo’s ankles’ you giggle and join in

“Go get him Kacchan!” Bakugo looks over at you, angrily shouting back “shut your mouth before i blast your dumb ass all the way to hell!”

—

“Oh cmon (F/N) there’s gotta be someone you’re eyeballing i mean look at you” you quirk an eyebrow towards Mina, who’s been bugging you about this ever since you entered Momo’s room “and what’s that supposed to mean?” Mina starts wildly waving her hands around “i mean you’re like smoking hot girl! I didn’t mean it in a bad way” the other girls sitting around you agree in their own ways

You sigh a little, although you weren’t expecting that particular reason “even if i did like anyone I don’t really think it’d be reciprocated, im kind of a klutz” immediately your friends spring into action, showering you with compliments so much that you start to blush. You cover your face in embarrassment at the affection

“Why would you ever even think that? There’s so many dudes pining over you as we speak” Hagakure points out, she’s currently fixing her face mask that Momo had passed out to everyone

You playfully roll your eyes “oh yeah like who?” Thinking you were able to stump them there.

Jiro, who is sitting next to you, side eyes you, not really sure if you were being serious “dude” you whip your head to look at her in a surprised confusion, before you look at the rest of your friends who appear to share the same sentiment, you look at tsuyu, she’s honest right?

“I can name atleast 5 boys right now” the green haired girl points out. You’re simply flabbergasted “What? Who then” you cross your arms. One by one your friends speak in turn

“That boy from the sports festival, Shinso, seems to be quite interested in you after you almost won” Momo starts

“And that boy from 1B, Kaibara, ever since you helped him out at the sports festival he’s been lingering around to get your attention” Tsuyu adds

“Don’t even get me started on Amajiki-senpai, he literally said you reminded him of the sun and admitted you were one of the only people he felt comfortable around, he blushes so much around you im surprised the constant blood rushes haven’t been getting to him ” Jiro says

Your eyes are darting inbetween all of your beloved friends as they quite seriously list off a surprising amount of people, since when were they so observant? You shove your face back into your hands “ok I get it guys..” embarrassed is an understatement

“Oh! And bakugo too!” Uraraka happily points out, as if this was common knowledge, but for you this was the final nail in the coffin before you begin to practically steam out of how flustered you became “I highly doubt that” you managed to squeak out

You thought you were hearing things but you heard a soft thud somewhere in the room, you chose to ignore it

Momo gently strokes your hair, although she still found the predicament quite amusing

Mina finds this exciting, she begins to ponder and think about all of the interactions you’ve had with Bakugo since the beginning of the year

“Oh my god do you guys remember when…”

—

Evidence #1

Something was smelling quite good in the common area, and as everyone began filing down to prepare for the weekend morning they were met with quite the sight

You were baking cinnamon rolls for everyone, as a part of your weekly ritual of baking or cooking for the class. Bakugo happened to have woken up early, came down and found himself chatting to you as if it was a normal thing for him to do

There you were, happily conversing with Bakugo as you were mixing what appeared to be frosting in a bowl. He wasn’t adorned with any sort of scowl, his eyebrows weren’t furrowed and he was silently watching you while listening to whatever story you were telling him, if they didn’t know any better they would’ve thought it was admiration. Of course, upon seeing the two, the usual suspects surrounded them completely disregarding what they stumbled upon, and bakugo was quick to throw angry insults at them

Mina noted the soft expression on his face before the boys had shown up

—

Evidence #2

“Uhm (F/N), do you and Bakugo normally walk to class together?” Upon entering the classroom and walking to your desk, your friends were gathered into their usual group right next to it, you shrug before answering “yeah, for some reason I’ve been managing to catch him just before we enter the building, weird coincidence but i don’t mind it’s pretty nice company, plus when we were kids we’d walk to school together sometimes” your friends deadpan at the last bit ‘bakugo… nice company?’

They all look over to see bakugo arguing with the other guys about some mundane topic, of course he was the most aggressive, yelling and making the usual scene, they simply looked at his comically scowling face before simultaneously thinking ‘not a chance’

Jiro makes a mental note that when she walked into the building, she saw Kirishima run into Bakugo who was standing at the entrance, asking to walk to class together before Bakugo shuts Kirishima down, saying something akin to “Hell no I’m busy!” Kirishima gives him a puzzled look before seeing Kaminari and telling Bakugo he’d see him later

Could it be..?

—

Evidence #3

“I won’t repeat myself asshat, let go of her now” Everyone in the class froze, staying silent, usually he’d be screaming this sort of demand. he was seriously pissed off beyond belief. His eyes pierced into the boy who had his wrapped his arm around your shoulders, Shindo. You awkwardly smile “Bakugo im sure he doesn’t mean any harm-“ before you can finish your sentence you feel something tug on your wrist, ripping you from the black haired boys grasp. You blink in shock, looking up you see Bakugo’s fiery eyes that speak a thousand words, but he only speaks two. “Get lost” his voice absolutely dripping in venom as he slightly tightened his grip he’d laid on your shoulder

Shindo stares back, his eyes narrowing before he throws on a smile “My bad, bro, hey listen im sorry, let’s do our best out there o-“ he holds his hand out to Bakugo to shake, before Bakugo swaps his hand away, turning the both of you around “your words don’t match that expression on your face, i said get lost”

Everyone slowly began to speak amongst themselves again, Bakugo wordlessly handing you over to Kirishima and Mina before spinning around to wander off somewhere else. You simply watch him go, he really was pissed off, mumbling some obscenities. You almost missed the gentle yet tight squeeze he gave your shoulder when he let go.

—

Final Evidence

“Midoriya, you’ve known those two for awhile right?” Mina asks, everyone is currently training, but a small group is sitting by taking a break. Midoriya looks up after taking a drink of water, his eyes land on the two

“I can’t breathe…” you exhale your words, Kirishima is rubbing your back comfortingly as the training gets to you, Bakugo rolls his eyes “you damn lazy shithead you’re never gonna beat me with that lazy ass attitude of yours” You look up at him and glare before smirking, dramatically falling back on kirishima’s chest with your hand on your forehead “I can’t breathe… there’s no room in Kacchan’s EGO, can we go now?!” and just like that, Bakugo is on your ass as you zoom away with your quirk, screaming about how he’s gonna murder you

Midoriya smiles “yep, honestly i cant really imagine what it’d be like without her, she’s been like a middle ground between the two of us ever since junior high, a voice of reason” he has a gentle smile on his face before it drops in an instant and he cringes remembering that time, a chill going up his spine “honestly I don’t think I would’ve survived junior high without her…” before Mina can question that bit he starts to ramble

“Me and (F/N) are best friends, but her and bakugo have this special connection. She’s able to read him like a book, understand him to a level I just can’t. It’s truly fascinating” he looks at Bakugo’s smiling face as he dangles you upside down off a rock formation, of course it’s mostly his usual angry grin but somewhere under there is a genuine smile as you laugh while telling him to put you down

“I’m sure he feels the same way I do, he just has a funny way of showing it”

Mina makes a mental note of this

—

You’re now laid flat on Momo’s bed, each bit of ‘evidence’ making you blush harder and harder, and they just keep going

“And when we were picking vocals for the festival, he refused to be drums unless you sang also, ribbit”

You shoot up, steaming “okayyy guys please stop” Momo looks at you with a pitiful expression “yeah I think she gets the point girls”

Mina still needs to know though

“Okay fine but can you atleast tell us, if you had to pick, who would you date?!” Shes gripping a pillow to her chest in anticipation. You think to yourself once you regain your composure, deep in thought for a moment before taking a deep breath in.

“Shut up” Kirishima whispers, nudging Kaminari as he can tell the boy is absolutely struggling to keep in his laughter, who can blame him though when Bakugo Katsuki himself is blushing from ear to ear from all the information he’s just learned

Boys like you? That many? And how could they know he liked you? He didn’t even know that. There is absolutely no chance in hell he’d ever consider thinking of you that way the thought of it is absurd

Atleast that’s what he told himself

He was about to tell the both of them to shut up before the sound of your timid voice brings him back to reality

“If.. if I had to… I guess it would be..” everyone, including the invading boys, are sweating in anticipation, Bakugo’s palms are slightly damper than usual

“Bakugo..” you finally muster out, barely audible, the girls cheer and clap at your admittance and the boys look at Bakugo’s absolutely shocked expression, they don’t tease though, not right now in such a compromising place

“But it would never happen” for some reason this statement makes him upset, what’s that supposed to mean?

“We both have the ultimate goal of becoming heroes, and we both can’t afford to become distracted with romance, plus I really don’t think he’d ever see me that way, he sees me as an annoying little kid who’s been sticking around since diapers” you laugh, albeit pitifully, at the end of your sentence, the girls don’t know what to say or how to comfort you, they know you know him better than anyone, so if you say it then it’s probably true

Probably

Mina gives her a big hug “aw im sorry for making you sad” you give her a gentle squeeze back “im not upset, don’t worry about it” she holds your shoulders and smiles before deciding on what you all were gonna do next

“How about we sneak over to 7 eleven, I bet we’re dying for some snacks right now” Uraraka shoots up “yes please!”

And just like that the energy in the room is back to its happy self, you giggling and nodding in agreement

As the group of you all put on your shoes, you ask Momo if you can borrow a hoodie from her closet

The closet, uh oh

The boys are frantically looking at each other, whispering ‘what do we do?!’ over and over, absolutely panicking

Internally, Bakugo is freaking out the most. What would he even do if you find out he heard everything you said? Would things be the same? Not that he cares.

They watch you come over to the closet, bracing, preparing for the worst as you begin to open the door

You softly swing the closet door open, and immediately the sight leaves you frozen in place

In front of you, on the floor of the closet are the boys, and Bakugo, and he’s looking at you with this angrily embarrassed look on his face, cheeks flushed. You blink and feel your cheeks heat up, spinning your head around as Momo asks what’s taking you so long, you look back at the boys, pleading with you with their eyes. You glare at the group of them before shutting the door in their face , telling momo you changed your mind on the hoodie

Relief was an understatement as the door to the dorm shuts and locks, the boys all loosen up as they give out a sigh, sinking to the wall and floor

“I thought we were goners for sure there!” Sero says, still terrified “luckily (F/N) is so cool, if it were anyone else we’d be dead for sure” Kirishima adds

Bakugo feels his phone buzz, he pulls it out to see a message and he freezes

(F/N): you guys better be out of there by the time we come back, I mean it.

He opens the closet door, and gets up “let’s get the fuck out of here, im never doing that shit again you fuckers” this time the boys don’t argue, and they all scurry out of the room, Bakugo says nothing as they go back to their respective rooms, and the boys decide not to push their luck tonight

By the time you return, snacks in hand, you look to the closet before walking over to open it again. ‘Empty. Good’ you thought. Atleast they listened to you, you were ready to rip them a new one if they decided to stick around after you gave them a saving grace

Momo asks what you’re doing, you say you’re admiring her clothes before asking what movie they picked to watch

—

After that, neither you nor bakugo had spoken a word to each other. For over a week the atmosphere in the classroom is thick with tension, Midoriya is the first to point it out to you while you’re hanging out in his dorm

“Uh.. (F/N)?” He looks up from the controller in his hand, the ‘victory player 1’ text on the screen on the TV blinking at him

You come down from your winning grin “yes Izuku?” He fiddles with the buttons before finally asking

“What’s up with you and Kacchan?” You are speechless, he noticed? Of course he noticed he’s Izuku.

You sigh, sinking into his bed, back against the wall it’s connected to “no point in lying to you huh?” Izuku gives a light laugh “after all this time, no” he looks at you expectantly

Putting down the controller you turn your head to look at him

“I think.. im in love with kacchan” hearing you admit it out loud after all this time was surreal, you thought it was something you’d take to the grave.

Izuku is shocked, of course, he never imagined his two childhood friends would catch feelings towards each other. He’s also used to you being the one giving him comfort or reassurance. He’s not very experienced in the romance department as is, so he’s not sure what to say to you about that. But he does know you like the back of his hand. You give him the same reason you give the girls as to why you’re never gonna tell him. You also tell him he heard everything.

“Wow that must’ve been super embarrassing..” he says, you face palm “I know! I can’t bring myself to look at him, and honestly the fact that he won’t look at me says something too..” you say, dejectedly. Izuku puts his hand on your shoulder, giving you a gentle smile “listen, im not the best with romance n all, but from what I know about the two of you, I think it’s best to just talk it out. You two don’t have to date, but maybe it’ll do the both of you good to get some sort of closure..” the look on your face is hard to read, he guesses you’re taking all of this in “id really hate to see you two drift apart over something like this, after everything we’ve all been through together.. plus I think you’d be surprised over what he has to say”

For some reason, you start to tear up, his words really got to you.

You missed bakugo, and you really didn’t want to lose him

“Is it really worth a try?” You mutter, looking down at your hands, Izuku puts his own hand on top of yours, making you look up back at him “it’s better to try than to not try at all”

—

Back in your dorm, you stare at your phone as if it’ll start moving on its own

You angrily sigh, snatching it up before finally writing the text you’ve been thinking about sending

(F/N): Hi

Bakugo: what do you want?

Ouch, for some reason that hurts a little after not talking in so long. You know not to take it too seriously though, you’re just glad he replied so fast

Bakugo is also mentally smacking himself for saying something like that right off the bat

(F/N): I was just wondering…

(F/N): Can we talk?

The boy stares at the message, of course he does, the awkward silence that’s been going on between the two of you has been miserable even if he didn’t want to admit it. He scoffs, finally deciding to reply after a few minutes

Bakugo: Ok

(F/N): okay! you want me to go to yours?

Bakugo: That’s fine

Bakugo: Actually, meet me on the roof in 10

Bakugo throws his phone down. He shoves his face into his pillow, screaming

He had no idea what to expect

Heading up to the rooftop, he’s surprised to find you there waiting for him first. He stands there for a moment, watching your hair flow in the gentle night breeze. You’re holding your knees up to your chest, shivering. You were cold

He scoffs, shrugging off his zip up hoodie

You’re shocked when a soft, warm fabric drapes your shoulders. Looking up, Bakugo is looking away from you “dumbass, you didn’t bring a sweater? if it weren’t for me you’d freeze to death” you giggle, exceedingly happy to finally hear him speak to you again

“Hello to you too” he ignores your greeting, taking a seat next to you to enjoy the view as well

“What’s wrong with you?” He speaks up after an uncomfortable few minutes of silence, you sit up straight “Me?! What’s wrong with you?!” Bakugo’s eyebrows furrowed and he shouts back “there’s nothing wrong with me idiot!” He turns to glare at you but he’s surprised when his eyes are met with your smiling face. He looks away “the hell you smiling for weirdo?” You notice the pink tint on the tip of his ears

“I guess.. I just missed you” now it’s his turn to sit up straight, he feels chills run up his body but he equates it to the coldness of the night

He says nothing at first, before looking back at you. You’re now looking up at the sky, a content look on your face. Your eyes are sparkling, and your skin is glowing. He shakes his head, not wanting to think of anything like that before you break the silence again

“the moon sure is beautiful, hm?”

Damnit. Once again, bakugo is speechless. Did you really say that?

He’s brought back to a moment in grade school

~~~

“I’m gonna confess to the person I love just like that!” You point at the movie the two of you decided to watch, bakugo looks at you in disgust “ew I did not need to know that you freak” you pout “come on wouldn’t it be so sweet?!” He shoves your face away from his as you swoon “whatever just get off me” you pout once again

~~~

He’s brought back to reality by the way you turn to look at him once more. This look in your eyes makes him feel uneasy, unfamiliar, but he can’t look away.

“yeah.. I guess”

Your eyes sparkle, you look back up up to the sky before mustering up the courage

You grab his hand that’s next to yours

He doesn’t do anything, he stays there, still as a rock before you speak up again

“I know you heard what me and the girls said that night” he meets your gaze, and you’re giving him a serious look that almost freaks him out but he lets you continue

“I didn’t want that to change our friendship, but I guess I was too scared that you’d hate me-“

“In what world would I hate you?”

His voice is so soft it makes your heart beat skip, and now it’s your turn to be freaked out about the serious look in his eyes

“Well I- uh. You see-!” You slap yourself, bakugo is taken aback and is about to question you until you finally say what you’ve been wanting to say for years

“Bakugo Katsuki, Im in love with you!”

There it is. That determined look in your eyes that the boy has never gotten sick of, your breathing is heavy and you’re avoiding eye contact at all costs, but you did it. You fucking said it

“I realized it after we stopped talking, I mean how stupid and cliche is that huh? You never know what you have until it’s gone? God what’s wrong with me, I just needed to tell you because it’s better to try you know?! I don’t wanna fuck up what we have, I mean shit it’s been so long you know. God I ruin everything I’m sorry forget I-“

“Stop talking, you sound like that stupid Deku, god you need to stop hanging around him so much”

You freeze up. You peek a glance to bakugo, he’s kept the same serious look on his face

“You didn’t even give me a chance to reply, dumbass”

His grip on your hand tightens, and he intertwines his fingers with yours. You stop breathing

“I don’t know shit about.. love.. or whatever, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, I can’t place it but the way you.. god, ugh..” he grits his teeth, his cheeks tainted pink, eyebrows furrowed and clearly angry but embarrassed

“God damn it (F/N) you drive me fucking crazy! It feels fucking stupid to just call it some dumb shit like love, it’s like you’re messing with my head all the time, I don’t fucking understand these.. these.. shit! you-” he meets your gaze, and his own softens

“I just can’t.. lose you, yknow?”

So he feels the same way you do, then. you lean your head on his shoulder, and he doesn’t back away

“You’d never lose me, Katsuki” the use of his first name makes his stomach flip. He wants to stay like this

He wants more moments like this

“We.. we don’t have to rush things, and I won’t force you to share your feelings with me, I think that’s something you should figure out on your own” he scoffs, he doesn’t need to figure shit out

“(F/N)” he says your name matter of factly, you lift your head to look up at him before you feel something soft on your lips

Your eyes go wide, you stiffen up until his hand grazes your cheek gently. As if he was scared you’d break under his touch. You shut your eyes, trying to relax into the kiss

Shakily, you snake your arms around his neck, and he deepens his embrace

Passion, fear, so many emotions and words that could never be said were being spoken through this moment. Everything he’s wanted to say to you, you could feel through the way his lips enveloped your own, the way he gently caressed your back in a comforting manner. All of his feelings, you understood

He’s the one who separates first, you’re left in a daze as he avoids your eyes once more

“That’s all you’re getting out of me, don’t expect more” you giggle, making bakugo look back at you

“Don’t fucking laugh at me you little-“

“Bakugo” he stops, looking at you skeptically, you smile back at him “from now on.. let’s just be us, no more holding back, no more secrets” you tilt your head at him, the gesture makes his own heart skip a beat and his palms are sweatier than usual

“Y-yeah.. whatever I don’t fucking care”

He gives your hand a squeeze “one day, when im number one,..” his red eyes pierce your own “I’ll make you mine, you got that?” You nod, a little flustered at his declaration before gathering up even more courage than before

“What’re you-“ you cut him off with a kiss to the cheek, then a kiss to the forehead, bakugo is getting increasingly more red by each kiss you place on his face and you back away to look at him. he’s got that same scowl on his face that’s a touch softer “the hell was that-“ you cut him off again with a kiss to the lips once more

This time, hes the one who’s frozen in shock, you cup his cheek in your hand, deepening the kiss slightly before you break it. Bakugo almost wants to pull you in for more but all he can give you is a blank expression as you whisper in his ear

“I’m already yours”

He can’t even muster up any words before you’re standing up, pretending like your face isn’t on fire . “Okay! Let’s head inside it’s getting too cold, how about I make us some tea yeah?” He just watches intently as you make your way to the door before following you, wordlessly he grabs your hand as you continue your speech about the different types of teas and what he’d like. You smile when he grabs your hand again, and he smiles when you squeeze his gently

…

“Aw man I lost!” When the door shuts, 4 people emerge from various hiding spots amongst the roof

Mina saunters over to the three boys before holding out her hand “pay up losers” she sings to them, begrudgingly the three place several yen dollars into her hand

You were the one to confess first, after all, looks like her and Kaminari’s sleepover plan worked

~~~

“I’m glad you and kacchan are back to normal, (f/n)” at lunch, about two weeks after the roof incident, you’re sitting with midoriya, you give him a happy look, nodding “yep! better than ever me and him” you can’t stop the blush from forming on your face, you’re saved by a familiar voice

“Oi (F/N)” you look up and grin, he stands there with his scowl. Usually, you’d get up and follow him to eat lunch alone together, but this time you decided otherwise

“Let’s sit here today Katsuki!” You beam at him, he wants to argue with you but he decides it’s not worth it, he groans before pouting as he plops in the seat next to you, you smile “wow, no yelling today bakubro?” Kirishima smirks at bakugo, before Bakugo can retort, Kaminari, unfortunately, starts up again

“You two sure are close nowadays~” Bakugo glares daggers at Kaminari “mind your business you rat” his fist slams the table. under the table, you feel his hand take yours, entwining your fingers “nothings fuckin changed” he mutters. you glance at him, smiling as he begins to eat his food

The conversations moves forward, and throughout Bakugo, or you, have yet to let go of the others hand, like it’s naturally this way as you speak amongst your friends

‘Yeah…’ you think to yourself, stealing glances , admiring his crimson red eyes, his spiky blonde hair, and the way he sends quick retorts back to your other classmates when they annoy him

He glances at you, admiring your infectious laugh, your soft hair, your glowing aura, you

Yeah, nothings changed

End

____

Sorry about spelling mistakes I did not realize this would be this long, I thought of the sleepover thing and thought it would be funny and then boom it spiraled out of control

Hope you enjoyed! This is my first time posting a oneshot here so im kinda nervous pls be nice to me ;-;

[harveysweakness]

can you do a harvey x reader where he asks her for help with a client and in doing so she gets hurt. she tries to keep it from him but she never shows up to talk to him. idek if this makes sense but thank you ❤️❤️

WARNING: BRUISING, BLOOD, DISCUSSION OF MAN HURTING WOMAN

A/N: I have them just flirty and not yet dating in this fic! Also, there will be a part two because we all deserve to see y/n and Harvey more

“What can I do for you, Harvey?” You asked, heels clicking perfectly with the floor as you strut into his office.

“Joshua Hendricks, you know him?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“You mean the most powerful man in the health technology industry, and one of our biggest clients?” You questioned, though you were only stating facts.

“I need you to persuade him to do something,” Harvey said, eyeing you up and down in your tight, yet professional, dress.

“Persuade how?”

————-

Harvey glanced down at his watch, a frown taking over. It was fifteen past eight, and while you were known to occasionally be five minutes late, this simply wasn't you, and Harvey knew it.

Pulling out his phone, he quickly clicked your name and waited for your familiar voice. It never came. His jaw tightened while he switched gears.

"Donna, do you know if Y/N ever left from the office to come to dinner?"

"She never came back after that client meeting."

He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach. He'd asked you to see this client because you were beautiful, a senior partner, and had the willingness to sway a client with flirtation- something he hated as much as he loved. And he was beyond worried that you'd had a little...too much fun with the client.

Shaking his head, he stood and left the restaurant, heading back to the office. He needed something else to occupy his head.

Getting off of the elevator and heading down the darkened hallway, he sighed. Harvey always felt better working after hours with less people to bother him. His office always seemed more welcoming, more serene in the night. Walking in, he turned towards his records on the shelf, heart dropping at the sight.

"Oh my god," he blurted, seeing you sitting on his couch, holding your bruised wrist, a bit of blood on your arms. "What happened?"

"Harvey-"

"Who did this to you?"

"Harvey-"

"I swear, when I find him-"

"Harvey!" you shouted, effectively quieting him. As soon as he met your gaze, you burst into tears.

"Hey, Y/N," he murmured, moving quickly to sit on the table in front of you, taking a deep breath in and out before continuing, "Let me see."

Trying to calm your breathing, you held out your hands to him, letting him get a close look at the bruises encircling your wrist and the scrapes on your other. His jaw was set in a firm line and you could tell he was getting angrier by the second.

"What else hurts?"

You took a shaky breath before pulling the top of your dress slightly to the side, showing a few darkening bruises forming near your collarbone.

"Who? It was Joshua, wasn't it." It wasn't a question, it was an accusation, one you confirmed with fresh tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Harvey whispered, his eyes filling with unshed tears. You shook your head.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I asked you to go, he never would have- I'm so sorry, Y/N." He gently brushed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. You couldn't stop the tears, no matter how hard you tried, and Harvey just leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

How long you stayed like that, you didn’t know. But you finally sat up, wiping at your tears before accepting the tissue Harvey offered.

“Can I help clean you up?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s dried, it’ll wash off in the shower.”

He didn’t quite know what to say, so he stood and went over to grab you a glass of water.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit on the defensive and I don’t know why,” you admitted.

“I would be surprised if you weren’t on the defensive.”

It was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again. “What do you want to do?”

“If we lose this client, the firm loses a lot.”

“I don’t give a damn about the firm.”

“Harvey, you and I both know that’s not true. You’re angry, so am I, but-“

“He can’t get away with it.”

“Get away with what?”

You both turned towards the door to see Jessica in the doorway, her bags and coat in hand. As soon as she got a good look at you, her face softened, she set her things down, and moved to sit on the couch next to you.

“Tell me what happened.”

Your eyes flickered to Harvey before settling back to meet her gaze. “The client, Joshua Hendricks, he thought he could get the case settled. I went to speak to him about making a statement and he didn’t like the idea very much.”

“He is no longer our client,” Jessica said simply.

“He brings in nearly a million dollars per week for us,” you responded.

“I don’t care. I will give him a call in the morning.”

“No,” Harvey interrupted. “Let me.”

Jessica looked at him, not even a hint of hesitation on her face while she nodded. “Take care of him.”

You both watched her go.

“What are you going to do to him?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Harvey answered honestly.

“I should go.”

“Let me take you. Please, Y/N.”

You were much too tired and hurt to argue. “Okay.”

———

You’d only been in Harvey’s apartment once before, when you had previously dropped off files while he was working from home after breaking his leg.

He gestured toward one of the counterstools. You took a seat, nodding to his quick ‘Be right back.’

When he came back a moment later with a first aid kit, you tilted your head. “I told you-“

“Please. Just let me take care of you.”

You nodded, feeling more vulnerable than you had in a while. Flirting with Harvey, teasing him- that was one thing. But sitting in front of him, in his apartment, while he cleaned the blood off of you and held ice packs to your wrist- that felt intimate.

He must have felt the same, because you could practically feel the emotions rolling off of him. He wouldn’t say anything, you both knew that, but you could tell he cared. You hadn’t missed the fear in his expression when he saw you sitting hurt on his office couch.

The two of you didn’t exchange a word while he took care of your bruises and blood.

“Keep the ice on,” he murmured, packing up the first aid kid and setting it back on the counter. “Drink?”

“Please. Something strong.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. After he poured you a generous cup of scotch, he handed the glass to you, eyes focused once more on your bruises.

"I'm fine."

He just continued to stare, his jaw set once again.

"Thank you."

That caused him to soften.

"No one's ever-" you paused, gesturing towards the first aid kit- "done this for me before."

"I'm glad I could," he responded, before his brow furrowed. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I knew you'd be back at the office after I missed our dinner."

"How could you have possibly known that?"

"Because I know you, Harvey," you said gently. It was easier saying that, than saying you knew skipping dinner with him would hurt him.

"You know I know you too."

You tilted your head, eyebrows raised.

"The baths filling right now with warm water, with eucalyptus salts and bubbles."

"How did you-"

"Because I know you, Y/N." He'd moved closer, his knee touching yours where you still sat. You seemed to lose yourself in his eyes, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn't even realized he was closer until his lips were mere centimeters from yours.

"You can stop me, if you want," he whispered. He was being a gentleman, giving you an out. He wouldn't do it unless you specifically gave permission.

You didn't say anything, instead leaning forward to close the gap.

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training XVI (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You knelt beside Peter with your hands in your lap, staring down at them as the conversation flowed around you. While you’d never had much to contribute to the conversation before, you still felt awful about being purposely excluded. Even more so because your humiliation was on full display for the whole house to see.

“It’s disappointing to see another empty chair at the table.”

Steve’s voice wasn’t very loud amongst the other low conversations, but it carried, nonetheless. You didn’t need to look up to know that his gaze was on you. You could feel it. It was then that you felt a gentle touch on the top of your head, fingers trailing down to rest just under your chin.

“Yeah,” you heard Peter sigh. “…but she knows what she’s being punished for.”

You did.

The night you told Peter that Nat had mentioned a pregnancy scare, he hadn’t said much to you for the rest of the evening. You could count the number of times Peter had been really mad with you, and his visible anger hadn’t done much for your sleep. You hadn’t been able to deny the pang in your chest when he laid down for bed without sparing you a glance.

You had almost wished you could take it back.

…but if it would prevent Nat from being on the end of whatever punishment Bucky saw fit for her, then you would accept however Peter retaliated. You weren’t being tied to some tree nor walking around with some collar on your neck, but it was no less embarrassing to sit at Peter’s feet on your knees while the rest of the household ate dinner.

Occasionally, Peter’s hand would come down to give you something to eat, and with starving as the only other option, you had no choice but to open your mouth and accept.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” he’d said just hours earlier, gazing at you with a small shake of his head. “…and to think this is something you knew before she even left. What if she was pregnant and has lost the baby? Do you have any idea what that will do to Bucky?”

You hadn’t had the heart nor courage to tell Peter that you didn’t care about Bucky. You didn’t care about him, at all. Your priority had been Nat and keeping quiet on something she herself hadn’t even known what to do with. That was then though, and while your first priority was still Nat, now you only wanted her out of harm’s way in whatever way you could achieve that. Even if it meant disappointing Peter and making Bucky aware of her possible delicate condition.

You knew that with Steve over his shoulder, Bucky was liable to do unspeakable harm to Nat. It didn’t matter that he’d grown up with her and therefore shared a deeper history than any other couple in the house. In fact, you’d wager that those circumstances only made him angrier, made him feel more betrayed. You didn’t count on Bucky being fair, on the punishment fitting the crime. The dark-haired man was angry and hurt—something you’d never understand—and he seemed the type to take it out on her.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sight of a fork in front of your face, and lock clockwork, you leaned in to eat what Peter offered. Your embarrassment lessened as you thought of the humiliating things the other wives probably had to go through. One incident stood out amongst the rest, and as you glanced up, your eyes met a familiar brown pair. She threw you a brief sympathetic look, something in her eyes telling you that it was okay, and you looked back down.

You tried to remind yourself that if your husband had been literally anyone else, you’d be dealing with far worse. Even Thor—who seemed a gentle giant most times—had forced Jane to hang the clothes to dry while completely naked once. At least, that was what Jane had said, and despite how long ago it was, you’d been able to see that she was still hurt about it. You wondered if that contributed to how “well behaved” she was for the blond. You wondered if she just didn’t want to experience that hurt again, and that was something you could understand.

When dinner was over, instead of following behind the rest of the men, Peter remained seated. You could feel his gaze on you, and you kept your own on your lap as you heard him stand. He stood there for what felt like a long time while the other women cleared the table. When the both of you were alone again, he quietly told you to stand and follow him.

Peter hadn’t said all that much to you since that day, and you didn’t know what you were walking into.

You kept your gaze on the back of his head while you followed him, tracing the brown strands with your eyes. There was a part of you that could acknowledge Peter’s disappointment, even understand the twisted logic in some sick way, but another part of you didn’t feel bad, at all. Whether or not Nat was pregnant was not something Peter needed to know. It simply wasn’t for him to know. It hadn’t even been for you to know until Nat decided it so, and it equally hadn’t been for you to tell.

…and you weren’t…until Steve and Bucky were itching to hurt her in ways she just didn’t deserve.

Even now, you wondered if you did the right thing. Only time would really tell, but you felt so…helpless. That night, you’d felt helpless, but it was a different kind of helpless. It was a helplessness that came about of your own accord. You could have very well told Peter you saw her. You could have even ran downstairs yourself to go after her, but you hadn’t. You’d remained quiet, and the opportunity to do anything to help or hinder the situation had passed you by.

You had left the fate of everyone in the house—including you—in her hands. Your future had depended on whether or not Nat was caught or not, both yours and Peters. You felt like something of a coward to leave that in Nat’s hands. Although, you guessed that your decision had been made when you simply…let her go.

You were frowning when Peter spoke to you again.

“You do understand why you’re being punished…don’t you…?”

You licked your lips, starting to nod before thinking better of it, remembering that Peter preferred you use your voice.

“Yes,” you told him.

“Tell me,” Peter urged, sitting down on the bed.

Your eyes met his, and like they had been for days, they gleamed with a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

“It’s important that Bucky knows everything pertaining to Nat’s health…and I helped her hide that from him.”

You repeated the words he’d said to you even though you didn’t quite believe them yourself.

Peter reached for you with a small sigh, and you slowly reached for his hand in return, moving closer. When his fingers threaded with yours, he pulled you to stand in between his knees, taking your other hand too. He looked at you with a look you couldn’t name, pink lips pressed together as he studied your face.

“If you were pregnant…surely you’d understand why I’d need to know that,” he continued before you could say anything. “Even if you just thought you were pregnant…that’s important, Y/N.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“Now…now I have to find a way to bring this up to him. I did make a promise, after all,” he said to you, reminding you of your plea not to tell Bucky you told him.

Peter pulled on your hands, forcing you to sit in his lap. One of his hands came to rest on your waist, and you held his gaze as he kneaded his hand into your side.

“…and you wouldn’t want me to break my promise…would you?”

Peter tilted his head at that, and you shakily shook your head.

If Bucky knew you knew…you shuddered to think of what would happen. Peter reached up to cup your face, gently brushing his thumb over your skin. It disgusted you to think that not even thirty minutes ago, he had you kneeling at his side and eating whatever he fed you like a dog…and now… Now, you were sitting in his lap, reaching up to cover his own hand as it rested on your face.

Was this how any of the others felt?

Did Margaret feel that conflicted mix of anger and sadness and admiration whenever she gazed at Steve? Did she remember the ways in which he’d humiliate her as he kissed her? Did Pepper think of Tony leading her around the house like a pet when he smiled at her? You wondered what Laura thought about when Clint hugged her and if it was that time she was forced to keep him warm in her mouth at the dinner table?

“I was very proud of you tonight,” Peter eventually told you. “You were so well behaved and did exactly as I told you.”

Peter pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, lingering there.

“Only four more days to go.”

You were outside in the garden when you first saw it.

Laura and Jane were planting some garlic with you when you saw Steve and Bucky talking and walking around the house. They were coming from the front yard, presumably from work seeing as they were still in their uniforms, and Steve had it in his hand. A whip­—long and braided and dark brown. By the looks of it, you could tell it was real leather, and even in Steve’s grasp, it looked big…and torturous.

The sight of it made your stomach turn, and you had the brief thought that you were going to be sick…until you actually were sick.

“Oh my God!”

Both Laura and Jane’s voices caught their attention, and the poor garlic bulbs you’d had every intention of planting were suddenly covered in what you ate that morning. Your legs were unsteady as both women hurried to pull you to your feet. Both men were nearing you, something crossing their faces that looked oddly like concern.

It was strange.

You’d seen something like that on Bucky’s face before, notably that night when you ran into him outside the basement door. There was a hurt and crestfallen look there that told you as mad as he was at Nat, something in him hated the idea of punishing her more. Steve, however… You had never seen anything remotely resembling unease before, and it was then that you were reminded of something Peter had said to you once.

“You’re family, Y/N,” Peter had whispered one night. “Steve may be hard on you, and it may seem like he’s out to get you, but he just wants you to fall in line and be part of the family.”

Laura was wiping your mouth with a napkin she kept in her apron.

“Are you alright? Did you eat something bad?”

No.

You didn’t know how to tell her that the sight of that whip in Steve’s hand—the whip that was still in Steve’s hand—had disturbed you so badly you couldn’t even keep your food down. You could feel pressure behind your eyes, a burning sensation, and you wanted to scream. On top of throwing up on yourself like some child, you were now on the verge of crying too.

“Y/N…”

You weren’t on the verge of anything. You were crying…and badly too. You couldn’t stop shaking, covering your face with your hands as you fought to keep standing. Laura’s hands were on you as she guided you into the house, and your knees buckled. You would have collapsed if it weren’t for familiar arms catching you, and you clung to him instantly.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Y/N,” he softly urged, one hand on your head and the other on the small of your back. “What happened?”

He was addressing someone else, now, and you didn’t hear what they told him. You only shook your head, unable to get the words out. You wanted to be sick again, and you pressed a hand to your mouth. Peter took that as a sign, hurrying to get you up the stairs.

He softly called your name again as soon as you made it into the room, and you finally did collapse.

“Is that what he’s going to do to her?” you asked him, tearfully looking up at Peter as he looked down at you in confusion. “Whip her?”

Realization bled into Peter’s eyes, and you watched his shoulders fall.

“Like…like some animal that needs to be broken into submission? …and for what? Because she ran?”

You swallowed down something else that threatened to come up, and Peter knelt down with you. You were fighting to keep it together, but your chest felt so tight, and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The mere thought of Nat being on the other end of that almost made you sick again, and the room spun just a bit.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Peter cooed, wrapping his arms around you and leaning you back into him.

You descended into another fit of sobs, turning your face into Peter’s shoulder, and he rocked you. You reached up to grip the arm around your chest, holding onto him. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, but what else could you possibly say that would stop this?

“Did you talk to Bucky…?” you finally choked out.

You both felt and heard Peter sigh.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Look…Y/N…”

Peter paused, rubbing your arm and resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I know you want to protect Nat…want to stop this from happening to her, but she did a bad thing.”

You started to shake your head, but Peter continued.

“She has to be punished, made an example of. Hell…we still need to figure out how she escaped.”

Those words gave you pause, and you swallowed.

“She won’t say a thing about how she got out of the house with any of us none the wiser. How she snuck past all of us, Bucky especially,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “She could do it again. Any of you could try to imitate her…and we can’t have that.”

Peter pulled away a bit, looking at you as you looked at him.

“I would lose my mind if you escaped,” he told you. “…and I mean that.”

He took your face into his hands.

“You don’t understand what you mean to me…all I’ve done to keep you by my side,” he gently said. “All I would do to have you again if you ever did what she did.”

You believed him.

You didn’t doubt him for a moment, and that in itself didn’t scare you. It was the fact that you didn’t see yourself ever doing what Nat did, never even trying, and that thought was equally imprisoning as it was freeing.

You stared into the darkness with your arms wrapped around your knees. The stair beneath your bottom didn’t even feel that hard to you anymore, long growing numb to the feel. It was so hard to sleep lately, so tonight you’d just given up. Even with Peter at your side, you hadn’t been able to find lethargic bliss, too plagued with thoughts of Nat.

The memory of that whip in Steve’s hand made you grow so cold, like something was being sucked out of you. You had imagined the worst for her, but actually seeing it was another thing entirely. As much as Bucky scared you, you couldn’t really picture him doing that to her. Even for him, it seemed wrong, but then again, it was hard to tell what Bucky was actually feeling and what he wanted.

He kidnapped the girl he grew up with and he was the one to feel betrayed when she ran.

You wondered if a day would come where you’d sleep soundly again. Maybe when you knew for sure that Nat was going to be okay? You wondered if you’d even fret this much if you hadn’t seen her that night. You liked to think that you would, but you couldn’t deny that your guilt and fear over the whole situation played a huge part.

Rubbing your forehead, you pushed yourself to your feet.

When you turned around, the imposing figure at the top of the stairs almost made you fall back. You let out a gasp, taking a stumbling step back and almost falling in the process. The sound of your heartbeat was loud in your ear, and even before he turned the light on, you knew who it was.

Steve was as scary as he always was, but even more so now with the memory of him holding the whip that was most likely intended for Nat. It was crazy to think that even in the middle of the night, a time of day that should be for the most relaxed version of oneself, he still looked like a strict leader just itching to hand out a punishment.

“You should be in bed.”

You swallowed as he looked down his nose at you, lips trembling.

“I…I couldn’t sleep. I have trouble sleeping, sometimes,” you forced out, truthful.

The blond didn’t reply right away at that, simply raising an eyebrow at you as he studied you.

“Is that so…”

It came out more like a statement than a question, and you frowned.

“Since when?” he wondered, and you realized this was probably the longest you’d ever talked to Steve and definitely one on one.

“Since…since I got here, I guess,” you whispered with a frown.

He sniffed, looking past you for a few moments before meeting your eyes again. They narrowed at you, and for the life of you, you couldn’t place the look in them.

“You spend most of your nights awake? Sitting on the stairs? Hmm?”

“No,” you hurried to say. “No, this is a first. I guess I didn’t want to wake up Peter.”

There was a brief pause, and the silence was so loud.

“Is that okay…?”

You tried to keep your voice even, but you supposed you couldn’t cover the mocking tone well. It was hard to keep up with what was allowed with Steve, and it wasn’t like the other night when you were trying to bring Nat some food. You’d just been sitting on the stairs. What rule was there against that?

Steve stared at you for what felt like a long time before suddenly throwing you a tense smile. It looked fake, plastic even.

“Of course,” he almost sang as if it were obvious. “You’re family, now, and this is your house too.”

His tone, like yours had been, sounded almost mocking, and you didn’t like it. Unable to continue engaging in conversation with the blond without wanting to hurl, you moved to make your way back to your room. Steve’s gaze remained on you the entire time, and it was only when you were past him did he speak again.

“I never realized what a night owl you were…”

You slowed to a pause, looking over your shoulder at him, but his back was still to you as he stared ahead.

“You probably see all sorts of things from your perch.”

Your chest grew tight at that, and you stumbled back to your room without another response.

Peter seemed to reach for you on autopilot, pulling you into his arms and holding you close even in his sleep. You held onto him too, tears kissing your eyes as you forced your heart to stop racing. You pressed your face into his chest, thoughts going a mile a minute.

You hadn’t liked Steve’s words nor his tone, and you wondered…

Did he know? He couldn’t know, but his dubious tone and hidden meanings in his words couldn’t mean anything else. Unless he only suspected, and even then, that did little to reassure you. You weren’t good with lies, poker faces. As it were, it was taking everything in you to keep lying to Peter, and the way you felt about Peter was nothing at all how you felt about Steve.

It was taking all you had to lie to the man whose face you looked forward to seeing every day. You couldn’t even pretend to imagine you’d be good at lying to Steve. The thought made you sit up some, gazing at Peter’s face as he slept. You thought about your conversation earlier and what he’d done for you, the feeling in your chest when he told you he’d talked to Bucky.

“I just mentioned to him he might want to have Bruce come and look over her first before…”

He had trailed off after answering you when you asked him what he told him, quieting at the look on your face at the reminder of what was in store for her.

“They’ve been trying, you know, and I just reminded Bucky that he’d never forgive himself if he did anything that could take away something he didn’t even know he had.”

Your worry hadn’t disappeared completely, but it had definitely lessened, causing you to hug Peter. He had hugged you back, but you’d been more concerned with pressing kisses to his face. Even if Nat turned out to not be pregnant, it would put off her punishment for a bit at the least.

Sometimes you wondered why Peter did anything for you. You supposed it was equally for his benefit, to make you more susceptible to him, and you couldn’t deny that there was merit to it. Did it really matter the reasons behind anything he did to make you happy? As long as it made you happy, right…?

You leaned over, pressing your lips to his cheek, silently thanking him. You grazed your fingers over his own, listening to the sound of his breathing, and you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of bed. You moved to stand at the window, feeling very reminiscent of that night as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

You knew that you needed to get up early, and that you’d probably regret having such a late night in the morning, but you saw no value in trying to force something that would not come. Like the night Nat ran, you stared out of the window, looking over the yard...

…and just like that night, movement caught your eye.

The figure was unmistakable, his hands on his hips as he stood in the backyard, gazing around. You didn’t know why he was out there, especially at this time of night, and you frowned as you watched him. The sight of Steve would always serve to do the opposite of calming you down, so you were just about to turn away when he suddenly turned instead. Steve’s eyes met yours from so far below, and you could tell by the look on his face that he could see you.

You could also tell by the look on his face…that this did not surprise him.

His expression was even as he stared up at you, and you blinked, a slow frown forming between your brows. You didn’t understand why he was out there nor why he was preoccupied with looking up at your window, but the longer he stared, the more he seemed to find whatever he was looking for, frowning at you before you made the choice to turn away completely.

The next morning was as normal as any other.

For some reason, you hadn’t expected that. It had taken you forever to fall asleep, doubly so when coupled with the memory of Steve staring you down both on the stairs and through the window. You helped Margaret make Egg’s Benedict before getting started on a key lime pie she wanted to have ready by dinnertime. She brought little Sarah around for a bit, something you were grateful for.

“I know what they think,” she whispered as you shook the girl’s hand playfully. “What they say…”

You glanced up at her at that, and she sent you a sad smile.

“You would never hurt any of them,” she assured you. “You just need more time to adjust, that’s all.”

Knowing that Margaret trusted you around her child despite what Steve thought made your chest feel warm, and you thanked her. You often wondered about your own future child, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t worry for them. After all, if Steve and the others were worried about you around the other children, what could you possibly expect with your own?

You helped Christine in the garden, feeling much better than the other day. You felt that had more to do with the lack of a whip in your line of sight than anything. Peter was gone most of the day, at work, and when he finally returned home, it was almost time for dinner.

“What were you two planting? You smell wonderful,” Peter mused, watching you as you helped him undress.

“Sweet Pea,” you replied, unhooking his belt. “Pepper wanted some on the side of the house.”

You felt Peter press his face to your hair, deeply inhaling with a hum that fell over you like a warm blanket. When Peter kissed you, you were unsurprised when it didn’t remain just that, allowing him to pull you into the bathtub with him. Much wasn’t said between you, more preoccupied with the feel of his lips on yours and his hands on your waist.

It was a wonder neither of you were late to the dinner table.

Despite your interactions with Steve the previous night, dinner remained unproblematic. In fact, the blond was much more concerned with his wife whose forehead he kept touching. Truthfully, you didn’t quite know what you’d expected. Perhaps your disastrous birthday was still fresh in your mind, no stranger to Steve’s lack of reluctance to cause a scene.

You left dinner without a care, and you managed to go to bed without a care.

It was late in the night, however, when the horror you expected finally arrived.

It was the sound of yelling that disturbed you, the height of sound something you’d only heard the morning Nat went missing. You remained in bed in confusion—and slight annoyance—as you blearily stared at the ceiling. Sleep was still just within reach, and despite the disturbance, you were determined to find it once again.

That wasn’t possible though.

“Let me talk to her!”

It was Peter’s voice, the sound of it making your eyes fly open. You slowly sat up, never knowing Peter for one to raise his voice under any circumstances. There were a lot of voices mingling together from below, and they all quickly drowned his out. You slowly blinked as you stared at the door…

…and an uneasy feeling started to stir deep in your gut.

It only just occurred to you that if he was downstairs, then he wasn’t asleep next to you. You reached over and slid your hand along his side of the bed. It was cool to the touch, telling you he’d been gone for quite some time, and your frown deepened. What was going on?

Just as you thought that, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and you stared at the door in dread. They were nearing your room, the sound of them echoing in the hallway, and for some reason, you expected Steve’s imposing frame to be on the other side of the door. It wasn’t, but you still felt no relief at the familiar sight of Peter.

You rubbed your eye as your gaze met his, the dark-haired man standing in the doorway.

“Peter…”

It was hard to pinpoint the look on his face, only that it was strained and pinched. You watched the way his jaw ticked, chest heaving slightly, and when your gaze lowered, it landed on his tightening grip on the doorknob. You said his name again, growing even more nervous the longer he didn’t speak.

“Peter.”

That wasn’t your voice.

Your lips parted at the sound of Steve’s stern voice coming from over Peter’s shoulder, and you guessed that he was somewhere in between the door and the stairs, somewhere in the hallway where you couldn’t see him. At the sound of the other man’s voice, Peter seemed to visibly tense. He stood there for a few more seconds before finally stepping into the room.

“Peter, what…?”

“It’s okay,” he whispered to you although you felt like it was absolutely not okay. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He took your hand, threading your fingers together.

“I just…I need you to come downstairs.”

His voice was so low, and despite the confusion you felt as you gazed into his eyes, you allowed him to lead you out of bed. You surmised that Steve went back downstairs because he was nowhere to be found when you followed Peter into the hallway.

Every step of yours felt heavy, and you didn’t miss the tight hold Peter had on your hand as he gently pulled you downstairs. You had no inkling of where you were even going, but you were shocked to realize that he was leading you towards the den. However, the biggest shock of all was the sight that met you.

You faltered as your eyes roamed over every single one of the husbands.

“Peter…”

Your voice was barely a whisper, but you knew he heard you by the feel of his hand gently squeezing yours.

You didn’t understand what was going on, and as you looked around, you almost wished you hadn’t. None of them looked happy, and while that in itself wasn’t alarming, it was the degree of unhappiness that unsettled you. Your gaze briefly met Bucky’s, and you suspected that if looks could kill, your throat would have slit on sight.

You took a step behind Peter.

“I always knew that your methods would backfire one day, Peter.”

Your eyes landed on Steve as he said this, and you watched the blond pour himself a drink. Thor was sitting in the seat closest to him, and you felt grateful for that because you were sure that the sight of an angry and imposing Thor towering over you would have made you faint.

You glanced at Peter, face almost hurting now from how much you were frowning.

“Peter, what’s going on?” you whispered.

“Yeah, Peter,” Steve mockingly agreed. “What’s going on?”

You looked between them, that feeling a full-fledged impairment, now as you almost felt like you couldn’t move.

“Ask her, Peter.”

Steve’s voice had lowered, his tone cold when his blue gaze finally met yours.

“Ask her, right now.”

You wanted to run for some reason, get far away from here…but you couldn’t. Peter seemed to be hesitating about whatever he was supposed to be asking you, and Bucky beat him to it.

“Did you help Nat escape?”

The question shocked you both for how unexpected it was and also because it wasn’t true. You felt your lips part as you looked at Bucky, withering under his venomous stare.

“What?” you gasped. “N-No!”

You looked around, a painful feeling washing over you as you realized what all of this was about.

“No, I-.”

“I don’t believe you,” you hadn’t even been able to get the words out, interrupted by Bucky who charged towards you. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

You stumbled back per courtesy of Peter who forced you back with a hand on your waist. Your hand gripped his arm in fear as you looked around him, watching with wide eyes as he faced Bucky. The other man looked at you like he could kill you without thinking twice about it, and you supposed that he could. He’d done it to Wanda, after all.

You hadn’t realized that you’d started crying, your cheeks cold all of a sudden.

“Bucky.”

“She helped her, Peter. I know she did!” Bucky spat, pointing at you as you shook your head.

“No! I didn’t-! Peter,” you pleaded, looking at him, now. “I didn’t!”

Your voice was cracking, and you hoped they didn’t take that for an admission of guilt or something. You hadn’t helped Nat escape, but you knew that to them, the truth might as well be the same, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“Remind us again, Peter… Repeat to us the events of that night for you,” Steve finally spoke up again, his voice eerily calm as he looked at you both.

His words had you blinking, and you looked to Peter in confusion. He looked conflicted, almost miserable, in fact, and you watched him pull his lip between his teeth.

“What was it you said? You woke up…?”

You looked at Steve, hating him and his mocking tone. You hated the way he talked like he already knew the answers he was looking for, like he was the smartest person in the room.

“…because Y/N wasn’t beside me,” he finally answered.

Steve nodded, slowly and with a hum.

“…and why not? Where was she?”

Your heart dropped to the very bottom of your stomach, and the room swayed for half a second as you tightened your hand on Peter’s arm. You didn’t stare at any of them, your eyes falling to the floor as you fought to keep your food down. You felt numb and heavy all at once, and for the first time in a long time, you genuinely wanted to die.

“Where was she, Peter?” Steve asked again, not so nice this time.

Peter didn’t respond right away, and you wrapped your arm around him, forehead falling to his frame as you held in a sob.

“She was by the window,” he finally breathed, sounding defeated. “Looking out of it.”

You heard Clint mumble something, and although you couldn’t make it out, you knew it wasn’t nice.

Only another moment passed before Peter was harshly pushing you back, but it wasn’t fast enough. Bucky’s hand had gripped the sleeve of your nightgown, both ripping the fabric and scratching your skin in the process. You screamed in both shock and pain, hurrying back until you met the wall, clutching your arm as Peter harshly shoved the older man away.

“She didn’t do it!”

“Move, Peter,” Bucky hissed. “Anyone with half a brain can see that she helped her! She-.”

Bucky cut himself off, and when you looked around Peter, the other man’s chest was heaving as he stared you down.

“Anything could’ve happened to Nat,” he forced out. “Anything, and she-!”

“I didn’t help her!”

“Shut up,” he snarled at you, so harsh and violent that more tears fell.

You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying and failing to hold your sobs in.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of her mouth unless it’s the truth,” he bit out.

“Do not talk to her like that,” Peter told him, taking a step towards him. “Do you hear me?”

He continued before Bucky could say anything else.

“You’re angry, I get it, but if you think I’m going to stand here and let you talk to her like that, you’ve taken one too many blows to the head,” Peter sneered.

They stared at one another for what felt like too long, just staring each other down, and you felt yourself sliding to the floor. The room was blurry from your tears, and it felt so hard to breathe. You brought your knees up to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell.

“Let me talk to her,” you heard Peter whisper, the same thing you’d heard him yell earlier.

You couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard you tried, and you let your head fall into your hands. The room was quiet save from the sound of you, and it wasn’t long before you felt Peter’s hands reach for your own.

“Peter,” you sobbed.

“Look at me. Hey…look at me,” he softly said. “Please…”

You reluctantly peeled your eyes open, and you glanced up when Peter gripped your chin.

“Don’t look at them,” he told you, voice gentle. “Look right at me.”

His voice was soothing, and you reached up to grip his wrist as you met his dark gaze. His eyes were soft, but there was something swirling there that made you nervous. An underlying skepticism lie there, and you pressed your lips together.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he quietly praised, sadly smiling at you.

He wiped your face, tongue darting between his lips. He stared at you, running his eyes over your face, and drinking you in for a moment.

“Did you help Nat escape?”

“No,” you answered without hesitation. “I didn’t. I… I could never.”

…and it was true.

You weren’t like Nat. You were weak, passive at best, and you could never have the courage to actively help anyone in this house escape. At least, you didn’t think so. The best anyone would get out of you was…well…simply looking the other way, and that was why as Peter took a deep breath, hinting that he was not done, you feared what would come out of his mouth. You dreaded his next words…

…and Peter looked like he dreaded them too.

He looked like he dreaded them more than the question that had just left his lips, and maybe it was because he knew the truth in this moment.

“…but you saw her leave.”

He held your gaze, and you held his. You didn’t move…didn’t speak, but you didn’t need to. Your silence was confirmation enough, and you flinched when you heard Bucky break something. It sounded like a glass.

“Peter…”

“You saw her leave…and you didn’t say anything,” he sounded heartbroken, and you soon realized why. “You lied to me.”

Your head lowered, and you wiped your face, but more tears just replaced those. You reached for him, gripping his shirt, trying to keep him close.

“Peter… Peter, I’m sorry,” you choked out, trying to pull him closer.

“That’s why…” he trailed off, sighing to himself as his eyes fell closed.

He chuckled to himself, but it lacked humor.

“That’s why,” he said to himself, his own head lowering so that his forehead touched yours.

You felt him wipe your face, a shaky sigh leaving him.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he murmured. “…but I’m not who you should be apologizing to.”

You looked at him with wide eyes when he pulled away, and you released another sob. Just the thought of what was waiting for you had you breathing short, and you pressed your hand to your chest. Peter still had one of your hands, and you could feel his chin on top of your head.

“Anything could have happened to her,” he told you. “Nat could’ve been seriously hurt…she could’ve died.”

“We told you,” you heard Bucky harshly tell him. “We told you you were being too soft on her.”

“Bucky…”

Peter’s voice reeked of exasperation as he held you to him, letting you cry into his chest. You couldn’t stop shaking, and your head was pounding so much from your tears. What would happen to you now? Would you be going down into the basement? For how long? Or…

Or was Steve going to make Peter tie you to a tree?

“What? You’re going to look at us and tell us we’re wrong, now? Nat escaped!”

You flinched as Bucky raised his voice, sounding much closer, too close.

“…and she just let it happen,” he snarled. “If she wasn’t yours…if she was just some random woman on the street, I’d wring her neck.”

That was enough to have Peter pulling away from you, presumably confronting Bucky, but you couldn’t even care, couldn’t even focus on that. You couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard you tried. Every time you did, you almost choked, and between that and trying to suck in air…

“…and why would I be like you…? Or Steve? You don’t think you broke her enough when you killed her friends? What did you expect, for her to behave rationally all this time?”

You heard Bucky chuckle, and for some reason, you hated the sound of it. It was cold, nasty, and it sounded like something that preceded trouble.

“Get off your high horse, Peter,” Bucky threw at him. “You’ve done just as much damage to her as we have…”

Bucky’s next words made your breath stop entirely.

“…it wasn’t us who killed…what was her name? Was it Michelle? Was that the one you shot?”

You felt…paralyzed, and the distinct lack of sobs filling the room was evident. Your hands had been on your forehead, and you could only stare at the floor as you felt like nothing was below your feet, falling without an end in sight. A sharp pain in your head forced you to squeeze your eyes shut, and you shook your head.

No.

No…no…

That wasn’t right.

It couldn’t be.

Sam…Sam killed her. Hadn’t he?

Your chest was hurting so bad that you actually clutched it, gasping for breath, and your other hand reached for the wall, trying and failing to steady yourself. You felt like you were in pain, and when you tried to stand up, you only fell back down. You felt familiar hands on your arms, and when you looked up, you flinched.

Peter frowned.

“Y/N…”

“What…?” you breathed.

That couldn’t be true…and yet…you couldn’t recall actually seeing Sam shoot Michelle. You…you had just assumed… But Peter was the first one to get to you that day, but he’d also spoke as if it was Sam…but Peter… As you looked into his brown eyes, the brown eyes that you had grown to look forward to looking into, you realized that Peter was a liar…and a murderer.

…and you wanted to be sick.

His hands were on your face, and you tried to bat them away.

“No, no, no,” you repeatedly mumbled, shaking your head. “No!”

You shoved at him, but Peter wouldn’t budge, determined to get you to calm down. Too preoccupied with wanting to be as far away from him as possible, you were none the wiser to Steve’s approach.

“It’s a good thing you brought Nat back up to prepare for Bruce’s visit,” the blond said, shoving past Peter and roughly grabbing you. “…because now she’ll have the whole basement to herself.”

The scream that you let out hurt your throat, and despite your anger and disgust with him, you still reached for Peter as Steve dragged you away. Your hand just barely grazed his as your feet lifted from the ground, and you reached out, trying to grab onto anything you could. You could hear Peter following behind Steve, begging and pleading with him on your behalf.

You could hear something occasionally being knocked over by you, the sound of breaking glass reaching your ears here and there. When Steve finally did reach the basement door, you pressed your feet to it, trying in vain to prevent this from happening. You hadn’t been in the basement since your first few days here, and it was not somewhere you wanted to be again. Not now…not after…

However, enthusiastic to see you suffer for letting his wife get away, Bucky unlocked and opened the door for Steve, the darkness threatening to swallow you whole. When Steve’s arm pressed into the cut Bucky had made on your arm, you winced.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time…”

…and with those last words, Steve tossed you inside. Your hands slid over the steps as you fell, feet tangling together, and you reached out to grab the rail, but it only slowed your descent. It did nothing to stop it, landing at the bottom of the stairs in a heap just as the door was slammed shut. You were surrounded by darkness, but it was the least of your worries, a choked wail escaping you at the thought of Peter.

You pressed your face into the floor as you cried, lacking the strength and will to move.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Hide-and-Seek

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You play hide and seek

Magda doesn't get yelled at a lot.

It's not really something that happens. She, very specifically, doesn't get yelled at by Pernille. Not at home at least, a few time on the pitch to leave the ball alone but that's never out of anger.

Right now, though, it's out of anger.

"Where the hell is our child?!" Pernille demands, arms crossed and furious look on her face that Magda has seen only a few times.

"She's right-" Magda reaches a hand out for you only for it to close around empty air. She looks down in shock at the empty space she assumed you were in.

You're not there and she looks up to see the furious look on Pernille's face turn to pure, unfiltered anger.

"You lost her?!"

"I didn't lose her!" Magda says quickly," I didn't! I..." She tries to run through excuses in her mind, tries to find something that will send Pernille away long enough to find you. "I left her with Sam."

"With Sam?!"

Perhaps, that wasn't the best choice because Pernille looks angrier than before, muttering under her breath before running off to find Sam.

As she goes, Magda grabs Niamh and Jessie from where they were relaxing on beanbag chairs together.

"Come on," She says," We need to find Princesse."

Niamh frowns. "I thought you said you left her with Sam."

"I lied."

Magda's stalking through the halls, head ducking and weaving as she looks around for whether you've run off too. You don't tend to wander a lot or very far when you do. You're usually close by and you never leave without telling one of your mums so Magda's at a loss for where you could have possibly gone and why.

"But why did you tell Pernille that you did?"

Magda gives Niamh the most pointed look she can manage whilst the guilt and fear bubble up inside her. "You saw Pernille! She was fuming! What would she say if I lost Princesse? Huh? I probably wouldn't have a home to go back to!"

It's clear Niamh thinks she's being dramatic because she rolls her eyes but Magda doesn't think this is very funny.

It's only a matter of time before Pernille tracks down Sam and finds out that you aren't with her. Magda's window of opportunity is getting smaller and smaller the longer she waits around explaining this to Niamh.

She grabs a hold of Jessie again, hauling her down the corridor as Niamh hurries to catch up.

The usually locked door to the storage room creaks open behind them and you slip out, making sure Morsa's back doesn't turn while you scamper off to your new hiding place.

Morsa counted for a very long time and you waited around for ages for her to start looking for you.

You don't get to play hide and seek a lot and you've never played it anywhere out of the house but you're determined to win. Not-Wolfsburg has lots more hiding places than at home and you duck into the canteen to hide under one of the tablecloths.

You don't want Morsa to find you too quickly. You know you're doing well at hiding from her because she's had to recruit Jessie and Niamh to help find you.

That makes you happy and you peek out from your hiding place. You don't want to stay in one place too long in case Morsa catches up so you hurry through the canteen to another room.

A few of the Not-Wolfsburg girls watch you go, shaking their heads fondly when you tell them that you're playing hide and seek.

You duck in and out of rooms as quickly as you can, not staying long enough for someone to find you.

When you play at home, Morsa always checks outside first so you know she's going to have to move inside soon which is when you'll sneak out.

You giggle to yourself, setting off for the pitch when something grabs you by the hood of your jumper and lifts you up. You squeal with laughter, legs kicking out as the ground disappears from under them.

You're turned until you're almost nose to nose with Millie.

"Hi!" You chirp.

"Your mother is looking for you."

"I know!" You puff out your cheeks," We're playing hide and seek."

"And does Pernille know that?"

You frown. "I'm playing with Morsa, silly!"

"Uh-huh." Millie rolls her eyes and adjusts her grip on you so you're sitting on her hip rather than just dangling. "Let's get you to Pernille."

"Millie!" You whine," Morsa's gonna find me! I'm gonna lose!"

Millie doesn't listen to you at all though as she goes to find Pernille.

Pernille has Sam backed up against the wall, yelling at her when Millie arrives. Sam is swearing up and down she has no idea where you are and Magda's lying because you definitely did not get left with her.

"Momma!" You whine and Pernille whips around to face you," Millie's ruining my game!"

Pernille hurries forward, taking you from Millie and tucking your face into her neck. "What game?" She asks, her previous anger melting away as she speaks to you," Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Playing hide and seek with Morsa!" You explain," I was winning!"

"You've won," Pernille declares," You've definitely won." She shakes her head. "When I get my hands on your Morsa-" She lets the statement hang for a moment before pulling you even closer, like she wants you to melt into her skin and live there forever.

"Magda!" Jessie says as she shoves the door open," We haven't checked in here...Oh..."

Magda comes running in.

She notices you immediately, running to grab you before she realises just who exactly is carrying you.

"Pernille," She says," I can explain."

[threepandas]

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I’d love if you wrote a wifexAemond fic where she’s not from King’s Landing so has different style and takes a ton of effort to get a new dress made that’s more locally aesthetic and when Aemond doesn’t notice/insults it she gets upset and he’s like “the only time I like your dresses are when they’re on the floor” angst/comfort/smut yknow

In the spirit of the ask game, here is a tidbit for you...

She smooths her hands over the plush, forest green velvet, a sudden rush of self consciousness making her skin grow heated with embarrassment as her fingers move over the brocade of her bodice. The gown feels much too dressy, after two decades spent adorned in the light, flowing fabric of her home.

However, she is now the wife of a Prince Regent, and she looks out of place next to the elaborate garb of both the Queen and Queen Regent. Their dresses are always richly embroidered, colourful and expensive. They make her feel drab when stood next to them in lighter fabrics, far simpler in cut, not as elaborately tailored.

She had requested the gown to be made, hoping to impress her new husband by dressing in a style that is befitting of both royalty and the fashion of the capital.

She paces anxiously outside of the small council chamber, wanting him to see her the moment the meeting draws to its close. After what feels like an eternity, the doors are finally flung open and Masester Orwyle files out alongside Lord Wylde, Lord Strong and Lord Lannister. As always, Aemond is last to leave.

Her eyes light up and she smiles brightly as he finally steps out into the corridor, however, she withers as his eye sweeps quickly over her before striding down the corridor without acknowledging her.

She hurries to keep up with his much longer gait, walking quickly beside him as he stalks ahead.

"Husband, I trust your efforts to advance upon Harrenhal are going as planned?"

"Mmm," comes his cool response, not sparing her a glance. "'Tis not for you to concern yourself with. Are there not more domestic pursuits you could occupy your time with?"

Her face falls and she stops walking, watching as he continues on, before rounding the corner. She wants to cry, her chest tightening painfully at the rejection.

But of course he is right, they are in midst of a war, and it is not her place to attempt to involve herself, and thoughtless of her to attempt to distract his attention when he has more pressing matters to attend to.

She decides she will wait until he retires to their apartments for the evening. He will be less distracted then, and surely take notice of the effort she has gone to.

As they sup within their chambers later that evening, she places her spoon back in her bowl, looking across the candlelit table at him as he stirs his own around, features pinched in annoyance.

"Do you notice anything different, husband?" She ventures hopefully.

"Yes," he replies, allowing his own spoon to drop with a clatter. "The stew has grown yet thinner still, thanks to that fucking blockade."

He is right, of course, but it is not the response she had hoped for. The foolish whims of a silly girl, not appreciative of the burden her husband shoulders, yet his inattention to her stings just the same.

Unable to stomach anymore food, especially with the lump that rapidly forms within her throat, she stands abruptly, her voice small and tight sounding.

"If you will excuse me..."

"You are upset," he says, an observation, not a question.

The matter of fact nature of his tone finally causes the dam to burst and hot tears spill from her lashline, trickling down her cheeks.

"Yes, I am upset!" She cries, her tone angrier than she intends for it to be. "I went to great effort to have this dress made, hoping you would appreciate it, and you have not commented on it once!"

His eye narrows, blazing with anger as his mouth presses into a tight line, pushing his own chair back with a loud scrape across the flagstones.

She shrinks away, suddenly fearful as he stalks towards her. She is not fast enough to evade him, and harshly he grabs her arm, tugging her flush against his chest as he glares down at her.

"I toil day and night to ensure your safety, wife," he spits the word with such venom it makes her flinch, his breath hot against her face. "And you concern yourself with vanity. Mittys iksā!" You are a fool!

She lowers her gaze, bottom lip trembling as more tears slip down her cheeks. "Forgive me, I am sorry. I did not think."

His expression softens momentarily as he gazes down at her, before his eye darkens again. In one swift movement, his hands come to the front of her bodice, grabbing the fabric and tearing it in two, exposing the thin, white cotton of the chemise beneath.

She gasps, her eyes widening in shock, too stunned to speak as she looks upon the predatory smirk that his full lips curl into.

"You will remove the rest yourself and then lay upon the bed. I shall teach you that it is the body beneath that I am interested in, not the fabric that covers it up."

She is quick to obey, eager for her husband's attention to finally be upon her.

[tonysbed]

Rumour has it | M.V 1

Max Verstappen x Bestfriend!driver!reader

Summary: Your daughter calls Max dad on a press conference, leaving everyone shocked

a/n: yeah idk what came over me

You had been eyeing your little girl in Pascales arms the whole 20 minutes the press conference had been going. She had been wriggling and squirming in her lap the whole time, pointing at you or max. Pascale seems to tell her no, which makes her even angrier.

Max was speaking when she started crying “Max, dear sorry to interrupt.” you looked over to pascale “Just let her over here, she’s not gonna stop fussing. I think she’s a lil tired after today” you say calmly over to her.

Pascale nods and sets your little girl down who runs up to you. You set her down on your lap “You tired my love?” She only nods and leans against you, eyeing max next to you.

He smiles gently at her and she starts to giggle, which made him laugh. You look between them “You having fun with maxie now?” The look she gave you startled you. She shook her head.

You raise an eyebrow and she extends her arms towards max. You were about to pick her up and give her over to max when she said into your mic “Daaad”

The whole room went quiet and you exchange a look with Charles, who is on your right. His mouth was open and so was everyone else’s “Sorry, what love?” You ask.

She points at max “Dada” You raise both your eyebrows and finally take a look at max. He’s as pale as a ghost. You chuckle and lift her off your lap into max direction “If that’s your definition for him, sure okay”

You lean back into your chair, being completely blown away by the event. Her arms went around his neck and his right arm around her, while his left hand still gripped onto his mic as if his life depended on it.

The press conference continues for another half hour.At the end, your little girl had fallen asleep in max arms and you weren’t gonna wake her up.

“Let’s get back, I’m tired” You say yawning. Back at the Airbnb you lay down on the couch while max brings her to bed.

He comes back a few minutes later. You had closed your eyes, knowing that he would want to talk about what happened.You weren’t sure if you were ready for that conversation yet.

He sat down next to you “I know your awake” His voice was quiet and gentle. You hum.

“Y/n, look at me, please” You open one eye and look at him sitting next to you. His whole body displayed nervousness and just pure panic. You sat up and took one of his hands “Max it’s alright.”

His eyes find yours “You sure, I mean, I’m not her dad and-“

“Then who is?” You say, making him stop. A short silence fell over the room “Exactly”you whisper.

“That’s you.Not some dick who left. You are her dad”

A little smile went over his face and his body relaxed. Your hand still in his, eyes scanning his face. Before you could say anything else, you felt his lips on yours.

His whole body covered your now “Shit, should’ve done that a long time ago” You chuckle “Don’t you dare curse in front of our daughter, Verstappen” You bop his nose and he smiles into your neck, letting his weight onto you.

“I love you” You smile at his whisper “I love you too”

“Mommy! Daddy!” Your head perks over at the little girl at the end of the couch. Max turns a little, now laying at your side and opening an arm for her.

She lays down on your chest, Max’s arm closing around the both of you. His nose bumping yours and suddenly there is another nose and little giggles in the mix.

Max couldn’t have wished for anything else than his two best girls.

-

Got baby fever after seeing max with p istg

[danikamariewrites]

I absolutely adore and love your housewife Feysand series, it’s so good rishshdkdbdkck

I propose an idea, even though reader is usually always at home/Velaris, what if they got kidnapped??? And reader gets injured and Feysand go INSANE trying to find them and it’s just angsty hehehehehe BONUS POINTS if it’s just fluff and overprotective central once they rescue and find reader

Gone Girl

Feysand x reader

A/n: thank you anon! I love this little series and I’m so glad others are enjoying it

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, injuries, eventual fluff

As Feyre walked home, hand in hand with Nyx, she couldn’t help but go over today’s events. She hadn’t seen you since this morning. Which isn’t unusual but occasionally you’d pop in to say to her and Rhys while they worked.

Maybe your brunch with Mor had run longer than you thought it would? But you would’ve let them know you weren’t going to pick Nyx up from school. You always pick Nyx up from school.

As the pair entered the house Feyre saw Mor pacing in the living room. Worry on her face as she bit at her perfect nails.

Feyre crouched down in front of Nyx, giving the sweet boy a small smile. “Uncle Cass is in the kitchen, go ask him to help you with your after school snack.” The boy nodded excitedly, his floppy black hair swishing with his movements. “Ok mommy.” He gave Feyre a quick kiss on the cheek before running off to get the most unhealthy snack his uncle could find him.

Making her way over to Mor, Feyre tilted her head curiously. She took Mor’s hands before asking, “What is it?” “Y/n didn’t come to brunch. I haven’t seen her all day.” Feyre’s heart sank into her stomach. A moment later Azriel came bursting through the front door like a mad man. His shadows frantic as he yelled for his brother. “Rhys! Rhys we have a problem!”

Before Azriel could make his way up the stairs Feyre winnowed in front of him. Her hands pushed against his chest as the sapphire siphons flared, the only annoyance he showed at being bared from Rhys. When he realized Feyre was in front of Azriel pulled his High Lady up the stairs to the High Lords office.

Rhys jumped up from his chair as Azriel slammed the door. His still panicked demeanor scaring the pair. “Azriel what’s going on?” Feyre asked desperately. The spymaster got right to the point. “Y/n has been taken. A rival camp to Windhaven has reported rogue members, they think the group of males took her. A few of my spies noticed them in the city not well disguised.”

Feyre let out a cry, covering her mouth. Silver lined her eyes as Rhys held her up. He pressed his face to her head giving her a small, reassuring kiss. Rhys took a deep breath. “Do you know where she is?” Rhys asked darkly. Azriel was sure everyone in the house could feel the dark power emanating from the High Lord. “I will soon.” Azriel quickly left before the moment could turn personal. Giving the couple space.

Hours later Azriel reported that the four males had taken you to an abandoned village at the edge of the mountains. It was the dead of winter, you must be freezing. That made Rhys and Feyre even angrier. You were raised in the Summer Court you can’t handle the cold of Illyria.

Rhys didn’t want this done quietly. He wanted to make his presence known. These moronic males took what was the High Lord and Lady’s and they would pay dearly for it.

Winnowing to the center of the abandoned village Rhys, Feyre, Az, Cass, and Mor stood back to back in a circle. Weapons raised, their eyes scanned the dilapidated homes. Wind and snow whipped around the group making in almost impossible to see their surroundings. Azriel sent his shadows out in all directions. Minutes later one returned swirling frantically as it relayed information to its master. He whistled and nodded in the direction the shadow came from.

Rhys and Feyre were the first to move. As they walked ahead the raging snow storm seemed to part for them. Like it was afraid of their wrath.

——

The cabin was freezing. Your body was aching from shivering for hours on end. You try to pull at the ropes around your wrists but your arms were too weak to move. It felt like you were frozen in place.

The four males that had taken you from Velaris were huddled near the front door. Now that they weren’t looking you allowed yourself to wince at the pain rushing through your right cheek. One of the males had backhanded you so hard it left a large bruise and cut from just below your temple to your cheek.

You hadn’t said a single word to them when you came to. You just sat slightly slumped in the rickety chair they tied you to. You kept your face blank, not giving them the satisfaction of a reaction or screaming and pleading with them.

When you had first woken up you tried to reach out to Rhys and Feyre. They were too far so your connection to them was nonexistent. You had prayed to the Mother that your friends and family noticed you missing. Prayed that Mor thought it was weird you didn’t show up to brunch. And Nyx! Poor Nyx must’ve been so sad when you didn’t pick him up from school.

Tears started to blur your vision as you thought about your little boy. Would you ever see him again?

Before the sob building in your throat could leave your lips the sound of the front door splintering filled your ears. You ducked your head, hissing at how stiff your neck felt.

You didn’t have to look at who was beating your captors. You could feel their presence. You’d know them anywhere.

Screwing your eyes shut you waited for the chaos to be over. You heard snow and wood crunch under extra footsteps as the males are hauled away.

A warm hand caresses your unharmed cheek. “Y/n,” a small voice says tentatively. You slowly look up at your loves. The tears you were trying to hold back falling as you give them a tight lipped smile. “You came.” Your voice raspy from not being used. “Of course we did.” Rhys said, kneeling in front of you.

With a snap of his fingers you were free from the ropes. You slipped off the chair into Rhys’s embrace. He held your shivering body tight as Feyre winnowed the three of you back to the River House. Madja was waiting upstairs in the bedroom with an apprentice to check you over.

Once she was done you slept for hours. You were still trembling from the cold which Madja had informed them was normal. You should be fine by morning as long as the fire kept going. Feyre sat with you first while Rhys went to be with Nyx.

Nyx had begged his father to see you. The little boy didn’t understand why they brought you home in tears. He kept trying to sneak away from Rhys so he could see you. “I just want to cuddle with mom!” He had yelled and stomped when he was told no.

Rhys and Feyre had switched before Nyx’s bedtime. When Feyre came downstairs Nyx was sitting on the couch, a devious look on his face with his arms crossed. Feyre copied her son with a small chuckle as she faced him down. “I’m not going to bed until I see mom.”

She sat next to him with a sigh. “You’re not seeing mom tonight, baby.” Nyx let out a little hmph and leaned back. His little wings flaring behind him. By nine he was passed out and moved to his own bed.

——

Blinking your eyes open the bright morning sun caught you off guard. You thought it was nighttime. You slowly sit up against the headboard rolling out your stiff joints. Looking around you see Feyre and Rhys asleep leaning on each other at the end of the bed.

You tug on the duvet hard enough to wake them and they jolt whipping their heads around. You cover your mouth to stifle your laugh. Their eyes snap to you and relief floods their faces. They scramble to sit on either side of you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “Sweetheart we were so worried.” “Are you ok? Do you need anything? Water, food, anything?” They continued their onslaught of questions until you pulled away from them.

“I’m fine. Maybe some breakfast and water. But I feel fine.” Rhys looked at you with an assessing gaze. “You’re sure?” You nod at him with a small smile. “I’ll get you some food.” Rhys gives you a kiss before leaving. You turn to look at Feyre.

She stares at you with watery eyes. Her finger gently traces around your cut. You could see the hurt in her eyes. She felt guilty for not getting to you sooner. You grabbed her hand kissing her fingers softly. “I love you, so much.” She whispered. “I love you too. Thank you, for coming to rescue me.” Feyre leaned her forehead against yours. “I’d burn down the world to find you.” Her warm lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss.

When Rhys came back Nyx was following him, holding back his excitement to see you. Before climbing on the bed he gave his father a look that asked for permission. As soon as Rhys nodded Nyx climbed up on the bed snuggling into your chest.

You felt Rhys caress your mental shields before letting him in. “Feyre meant it. We’d burn the world down if it meant you were safe in our arms.” “I know Rhys. And I love you both for it.” “You know you’re never leaving our sight again, right?” You mentally and physically roll your eyes at him. It was going to be a long time before you left the house without an escort soon.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Happy fake season 5 premiere. Now are you ready for some SAD? Chapter Title from Pavlove by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 21.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You want to go home. Usual Warnings, and also just so sad.

Read on A03!

Chapter 16 - Chapter 18

It had been one month, one week, two days, five hours, thirty-seven minutes, and thirteen seconds since Ben had lost Her. Failed Her. Held Her and heard her voice say his name. 

The Thing kept time for him. It had forbidden him to forget for a single second that She wasn’t there. Because of him. She was gone, he’d broken his promise, and now the Thing’s only job was to look for Her in corners—in strange shadows and oddly placed objects that might be Her—and beat every part of Ben bloody with an anguish for Her. To remind him, as another second passed, that he had failed Her. That She wasn’t at his side, where she belonged. That She had trusted him, and now she was in danger. 

The first week had almost killed him. He’d barely slept—and when he did nightmares of Her, just out of reach and screaming, would carve into his chest as the drums overtook him—so he’d wait until he was about to fucking collapse and then do it on the couch. Never on the bed. He didn’t go into the bedroom except to get to the bathroom. And every time he did, he had to fight the sick feeling in his body that She wasn’t there. He’d almost wrecked the apartment in wrath as well, smashing two chairs against the wall and shattering the TV. Then he’d been furious with himself for losing his fucking control, because She’d be upset the TV was broken. 

How the fuck is that helping anything, Benjamin? She’d cross her arms and glare at him. Then make him clean it up while She watched, cross legged on the couch. Still not really that mad at him, because Ben would grunt and glower at Her but do it all the same. Then he’d steal Her chocolate from the cafeteria in a silent apology, and even though she’d already forgiven him She would smile at him and tease him for being a grump as he watched Her eat.

She was haunting him. Ben knew Her too well, She’d planted herself so deep in his every thought that She was everywhere. Not just scattered through the apartment—clothes in drawers he had to pretend he couldn’t see, unfinished books on tables, and an empty coffee mug in the sink—but plaguing his every move. He couldn’t eat or cook without hearing Her frown at instructions and ingredients. 

What does “crisp up the edges” mean? Like, burn lightly? 

Ben had to stop cooking. It was wrong when Her voice was there but he couldn’t kiss the top of Her head or wrap his body around her own, hugging her into him as they both frowned at the stupid recipe.  

As such, at first he’d only left the apartment to get food—stalking back immediately after because if the Pussy Brigade kept looking at him with fucking pity he’d kill them all and that would defiantly make Her pissed—and to attend briefings. Boring, pointless fucking briefings where Butcher would say they still didn’t have a lead—at that point they didn’t know anything except that She was with Homelander and Vought said she was in “recovery”, so nobody had even fucking seen her—and Ben had to find another way to live with himself. With how he’d failed Her.

The Pussy Brigade had been pissed with him. MM’s glares had become somehow damn angrier than before, Annie and Hughie kept fucking sighing, Frenchie looked at Ben like he was about to rip everyone’s heads from their shoulders at the smallest word in his direction, and Butcher and Kimiko were acting like Ben was the fucking asshole. Like they weren’t the ones sitting on their fucking asses, and Ben was slowing them down. He had been attending their stupid fucking meetings and managing not to kill anybody when every single fucking one ended the same way, with Her not any closer to coming home. So every single one of them could go fuck themselves until She was. 

Then he’d been called to the dining hall for another meeting, and found only MM and Annie waiting for him. 

“You need to talk to her sister,” MM snapped. “She needs to know what happened.” 

“No.” Ben’s grunt was meant to be final. He didn’t want to talk to Violet. He didn’t want to be reminded of Her, he already had to see Her perfect face whenever he opened his phone. He had no desire to see her in all the similarities and mimicked expressions on Her sister’s features, or hear her in the way they both always spoke with a frantic pace, as if the words might get away from them. 

“We’re not fucking asking-“ 

Annie had stopped MM with a hand, looking at Ben carefully. “She’d want her sister to know.” 

She would. She’d be pissed Violet didn’t already know. But Ben couldn’t. “One of you pussies fucking do it then.” 

“It has to be you,” Annie had said Her name gently. “She would want it to be you.” 

Ben had wanted to kill Annie. To tell her she had no fucking clue what She would want him to do, but she was right. Ben had to do it. This was a fitting fucking punishment for failing Her.

They’d called Violet. Annie had wanted Ben to see her in person, but MM had decided it was too dangerous. So they’d called her, using MM’s phone. 

She’d asked Ben what the hell had happened, and he’d told her. 

The line had gone silent for a long, painful minute before Violet spoke again.

“You’re going to get her back.”

Even though it felt like the words were clawing at his throat, Ben had parroted what he’d been telling himself since he’d lost Her. “Like I fucking said, we have to kill Homelander-“ 

“I don’t give a shit about Homelander,” Violet had snapped. “You’re going to get her back.” 

“You think I don’t fucking want to?! You think this isn’t fucking killing me?” Ben had almost roared into the phone. He knew he’d failed, he didn’t fucking need this. Nobody needed to tell Ben he’d lost Her. He’d never be able to goddamn forget it if he tried.

“I know this is fucking killing you. And I don’t goddamn care.” Violet’s response had been cold. Furious. “She’s my sister, and I want her back. And if you care about her even a quarter as much as I think you do, you’ll want her back too. So go get her back.”

It hadn’t been a question or a plea. It had been a command. Ben was going to get Her back. Fuck Homelander, fuck Butcher and MM and Mallory. Ben cared about Her, more than he’d ever cared about anything, and if he didn’t get Her by storming the Tower he’d rip the world apart until he found Her and brought her back. Brought her home. 

Violet had hung up the line, Ben had chucked MM’s phone back at him, and turned to stomp back to his room. To get his shield and fucking bring Her home. He’d spent a week doing it the team’s way, fucking sitting on his ass like a pussy, and that was fucking it. He’d get her back, his way, no matter fucking what. 

MM had stopped him. Planted himself in Ben’s path with a glare. 

“Move.” Ben had hissed. There wasn’t fucking time for this. He had to do something. Get Her back right goddamn now. 

“Stop being a fucking child,” MM’s words had been blunt. Furious. And Ben’s vision had gone red. 

“The fuck did you just say to me-“ 

“You’re being a whiny, pathetic, sulking child.” MM hadn’t flinched, and Ben had been certain he had a death wish. “I sure as hell understand why Violet’s angry. But she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about. We’re going to get her back, but when it’s safe.” MM had said Her name, and Ben had almost broken the teeth in his own mouth. “She’s strong. She’s smart. She wouldn’t want us to compromise the mission for her.” 

Of course She wouldn’t want that. She was always fucking throwing herself in the line of fire, taking bullets meant for everyone else because she could. But she shouldn’t fucking have to. Ben didn’t give a shit how strong She was, she shouldn’t keep fucking doing this to herself. He couldn’t keep fucking allowing everyone to just let her do this to herself. 

“I don’t give a single fucking ass’s ballsack.” Ben had hissed. MM needed to be crystal fucking clear where his priorities were. Not with the Pussy Brigade, not with the mission. With Her. Always with Her. “I’ve already fucking wasted too much goddamn time pussyfooting around for you-“ 

“This isn’t for me, you dense motherfucker,” MM was still in Ben’s way, and Ben had been more than ready to fucking move him. “Or for Annie, or Hughie, or even fucking Violet. It’s for her.” 

“Fuck you, you don’t know what the goddamn hell you’re talking-“ 

“She hasn’t broken out,” it was Annie who spoke, and Ben had turned on her with a scowl. “She’s still there-“ 

“I’m well fucking aware-“ 

“For a reason, you fucking asshole.” MM’s sneer had been cold. “We all know how strong she is. She could’ve broken out-“ 

“Her fire wasn’t working.” Ben’s fists had been curled at his side, and he’d felt fucking sick. “It just stopped. She can’t break out, she fucking needs me-“ 

“We haven’t damn seen her. We don’t know even if she’s in the fucking tower or not. And no matter what, we have to play this like she would.” 

That had halted Ben. “What in Christ’s fucking asshole are you talking about.” 

“We can’t play this like Homelander. Or Butcher.” Or you. Annie hadn’t said the last words, but Ben knew they were implied. “She’s the one who’s there. Who knows what is and isn’t possible, what precautions Vought does and doesn’t have. What they’re planning with Her. Right now we’re in the dark, but she isn’t. So we have to play this like she would, like she’d tell us to do if she were here.”

Ben had been silent, trying to find a good reason to not just fucking killing Annie and MM and storm Vought Tower to get Her back. He didn’t care about the mission or plan anymore. He just needed Her home. With him.

It’s not about us right now, Ben. Her voice had echoed in his head, gentle but firm. Don’t throw a temper tantrum, I’ll come home soon. Once this is over. Trust me. 

She’d play it smart. He’d known that immediately, that She’d play it smart. She’d play it underhanded and unfair—with sharp words and dirty tricks—but fucking smart, and She’d get the job done. At any cost that She deemed truly unavoidable. 

Ben really fucking wished She’d start realizing that she wasn’t an unavoidable cost. 

But that’s how She’d play it. She’d use herself like a weapon and then crawl back to Ben with Her guts falling from her body. She’d be planning something. Ben knew Her, he knew that she’d be planning something. But She was so fucking afraid of Homelander. There was no certainty that she was Her right now, that her mind was currently capable of finding a way out of this.

“We don’t know where she is,” MM had said slowly, and Ben had remained silent. “And we don’t have a way to get her safely, except killing Homelander. Don’t be a fucking idiot, you asshole.”

“We won’t rest until she’s back,” Annie had added, tone a hell of a lot more soft than MM’s. “I promise.” 

Ben had stormed past them, uninterested in their fucking promises, and tried to find a way around this. A good reason that he could just go get Her.

He could go to the tower. Demand Her back. 

And I’m sure they’d be super chill about that. Homelander would just hand me over and apologize for the inconvenience. 

He could just fucking kill Homelander right now. Stop waiting for whatever pointless fucking shit Butcher and Mallory were planning and kill Homelander now.

He’s not going to fight you. Not after we kicked his ass on the lawn. He’d see you and fly off.

He could bribe someone-

With what money, Pretty Boy? 

If you’re so fucking clever, Ben had hissed at the voice. Then what would you do? 

I’d play it out. I’d make a plan and then I’d play it out. 

You always shut the hell down when you’re afraid, no plans, barely even full goddamn sentences. And you’re fucking terrified of Homelander. 

Wow, I wonder why. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben had snapped that last part aloud, and Her laugh had carried on the wind. 

He’d sat in it, arguing with Her voice in his head for hours until his phone had buzzed on the table.

William Butcher; asshole, bother as much as possible.

Emergency. Dining hall, right now.

Don’t make me fucking drag you. 

They’d all been waiting when Ben had arrived. Huddled around Hughie’s laptop with wide eyes and mouths hanging open like fucking idiots. 

“Unless the emergency is you pussies doing a fucking circle-jerk-“ 

“It’s not,” Hughie had spoken over Ben, and his eyes had widened slightly as he saw Ben’s murderous scowl, realizing what he’d just done. “Uh, I mean you’ll want to see this. It’s important. It’s uh,” Hughie had opened and closed his mouth like a fucking fish, and Annie had taken over. 

“It’s her. It’s-“ 

Annie said Her name, and might have been about to say more, but Ben hadn’t fucking cared. He’d crossed the room in two steps and ripped the laptop up from the table. Ignored the protests of the group as he’d stared at the screen. 

They had been watching some fucking cable channel, with BREAKING NEWS written in bold letters on the bottom of the feed. It was a fucking interview, where a charismatic haircut in a suit was behind a desk, smiling at Homelander. Smiling at Her. 

Her. 

Alive. In public. In immeasurable fucking danger, but within an arms reach. She wasn’t speaking, just smiling and looking between Homelander and the host as they spoke. Laughing on a perfect fucking cue when Homelander made a horrible joke. 

But Her eyes were fucking empty. That wasn’t her real smile, or real laugh, and no part of Her body was relaxed. She didn’t look harmed, but it was impossible for Her to look harmed. Her hair was styled perfectly, but she never wore it like that. She wasn’t speaking, even as Homelander compared them to Romeo and Juliet and called it the best love story ever told. She hated Romeo and Juliet. She’d lectured Ben at least twice about how it was a fucking cautionary tale, a tragedy, not aspirational. She was laughing at jokes Ben knew she wouldn’t find funny, and Her eyes were fucking dull. She was sat with her hands on the table, and he could see Her middle finger, tapping slightly. 

“Unfortunately, Soldier Boy got away. What are your plans going forward to bring him to justice?” The Haircut had been asking Homelander, and She’d blinked. The only sign she’d heard. 

“Well, I was so focused on saving the love of my life,” Homelander had placed a gloved hand over hers, and She given him a too sweet smile. “That Soldier Boy managed to run away. I could’ve caught him, of course, but she needed me. So I stayed. But we’re working on a way to find him, and eliminate his threat all together. Permanently.”

The Haircut had nodded, and looked at Her. “The public is dying to know more about you and Homelander’s plans, now that you’re reunited. What can you tell us?” 

She hadn’t even opened her mouth, letting Homelander speak for Her. “Right now we’re just focusing on each other. Building a strong foundation for our future together. You’ll hear more when we’re ready to share,” Homelander had given a shark-like grin. “And it will be juicy. Right, honey?” 

She’d nodded. No words, only a nod. 

Ben had been about to smash the laptop and leave. Go fucking find Her. This was live, she was somewhere in the city right fucking now, and he’d made up his mind. She wasn’t herself, her eyes were vacant and she was never fucking silent. She needed him, and he was going to find her. 

But then She’d looked right into the camera. For only a half-second—he’d almost fucking missed it in his anger—She’d made eye-contact with Ben through the camera. And her face had morphed. Twisted into one Ben recognized for just that split moment, before growing blank once more. 

I’m okay, Benjamin. Trust me. I’ll see you soon. 

She’d see him soon. And when she’d stood up—hand clasped in Homelander’s without fingers tangled, without touching him beyond his glove—she’d been wearing green. It had been a hideous dress, fucking frills and bows and lace and one size too small. But green. 

And Ben understood. 

She was playing this her way. She was asking him to trust her. She’d see him soon. 

He fucking hated this. But She was asking him to trust her, and he did. She was still Her, perfect,  and she was wearing green.

She’d see him soon. 

Ben had chucked the laptop back at Hughie, and glowered around the table. “What’s your fucking plan.” 

“We, uh, don’t really have one-“ 

“Then fucking make one.” Ben had sneered at Hughie. At all of them. “Now.” 

Annie had frowned at him. “I mean, I don’t think that’s important, not when she just-“ 

“It’s the only fucking thing that’s important.” Ben had hissed. “If you goddamn pussy idiots want to play it like her, do it fucking right. No fucking room for error, or doubt, or goddamn hesitation. If we’re getting Her back by killing Homelander, then let’s fucking kill Homelander.”

Butcher had nodded. “Welcome back, Gov. Whatever it fuckin takes.” 

Ben had left. He hadn’t answered Butcher, because he’d have just killed him. Split his face open in fury. The pussy didn’t fucking get it. Butcher’s whatever it takes was about the job. Ben’s whatever it takes was about Her. Getting Her back, making her safe. He was a goddamn fucking hypocrite, and he didn’t fucking care. 

Whatever it takes.

Not Butcher’s whatever it takes—what Ben had once meant, a lifetime ago—where he was really saying at any and all costs. 

Her whatever it takes. Where she was saying at my cost. At my sacrifice. 

Her sacrifice was giving every part of Her. Letting Her worst fears and nightmares become reality. 

Ben’s sacrifice was going to be his fucking sanity. His peace of mind traded for the torture of failing Her. Of having to let Her do this. But she’d done it, and he’d be fucking damned if she did it for nothing. She was playing this how she wanted, and Ben knew a lot better than to stand in her way. He’d play fucking nice, and do what the Pussy Brigade told him to, because She’d come home to him. 

He’d failed his most important promise to Her. That was broken, shattered, gone into the fucking past.

Now he had to let Her do what she needed to do. And then everything would be keeping Her safe. 

She’d need to be safe when she came home. Ben had to keep himself the fuck together, so he could hold Her when she came home. So he could be Her home, and make sure she still trusted him to touch her, care for her, and- 

Ben had nearly run straight into the Kid. 

He didn’t look like Homelander. There wasn’t anything evil on the Kid’s face, anything deeply gut twisting and skin crawling. Homelander’s face was fucking wrong. Weak. Inhuman. The Kid just looked like a damn kid. He had the same blond hair and blue eyes that Homelander did, but a lot of fucking people had blond hair and blue eyes. Fucking Annie had blonde hair and blue eyes. And, to keep it damn fair, Homelander didn’t look like Ben. Homelander wasn’t Ben. So the Kid probably wasn’t Homelander.

But Ben had lost Her for the Kid. 

So he didn’t really give a shit about if the Kid was Homelander or not. Butcher had what he fucking wanted, and She had given it to him. Butcher had traded Her for the Kid. And Ben didn’t want a goddamn thing to do with either of them. 

The Kid had been about to say something. Maybe call Ben fucking grandpa again. She’d have loved that. She’d have fucking fallen over laughing and then kissed Ben’s scowl, calling him an old grump.

Something hurt deep inside Ben’s chest. He might be doing this Her way, might have resigned himself to sitting on his fucking ass and working fully with the Pussy Brigade, but he didn’t need another fucking reminder that She was gone. Not when the Thing was keeping time. Not when Ben couldn’t escape Her voice.

He’d shoved past the Kid without a word. 

It took Ben two whole fucking weeks to find a rhythm without Her. To pull his shit together for Her. 

He didn’t sleep in the bed. He wouldn’t sleep in the bed, not if She wasn’t there. He changed the sheets because she deserved them to be clean. He brushed his teeth because she’d notice if he didn’t. He fucking perfected pancakes, so he could make them when she got home. He fixed the TV. He called Mallory to fix the TV. The TV got fucking fixed, and it didn’t really goddamn matter if it was Ben or Mallory or Hughie who did it. The TV was in one piece, and She’d be able to use it when she came home. 

He found small ways to torture himself until She returned. Ways to remind himself She was gone, fucking gone and alone, while still holding Her as close as he could. Ben used Her stupid fucking flower shampoo once a week, just so he could smell her like a pervert. He watched all the movies and shows she adored and tried to learn all the goddamn million songs she loved. For such an intelligent person, She liked some stupid fucking shit. The music was slightly harder for Ben to get through, mostly because of the sheer goddamn whiplash. Bright pop to heavy guitar to—fuck him—showtunes. He managed to get one song down to a key, which brought his total up to two whole songs that Ben knew and could sing to Her. Moon River and Rainbow Connection. He’d have to learn a third, because the fucking banjo made him want to shoot himself. For TV, he could’ve watched all the movies and shows She liked because they were good—The award winning ones made by a bunch of pretentious whining art pussies—or he could watch the ones She loved because she was a fucking enigma of a woman. A low-budget film about a hot woman and the worst fucking “dread pirate” Ben had ever seen. A fucking movie about pageants and the FBI. A goddamn cartoon about talking cars and spies. Another fucking cartoon with a billion damn episodes about a family who made burgers. Another too long show about monsters and hunting them and being a self-righteous pussy all the time. 

Ben didn’t actually hate that one. He liked how much they decapitated people, and that he could almost hear Her talking through the whole thing. He couldn’t see any deeper meaning in any of this fucking dimly-lit shit, but She’d find some. And he wanted to try and look for something so that when she inevitably made him watch it, Ben could blow her fucking mind with some sort of stupid observation or metaphor. Her pretty mouth would fall open, and her eyes would widen—half with disbelief and half with delight—and She’d be so fucking happy. 

And that was where the torture part began. She wasn’t smiling at him. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t even fucking safe. She was with Homelander. She was doing fucking everything for fucking everybody instead of resting against Ben and telling him about all Her perfect, strange, and pointless thoughts. Ben wasn’t holding Her, laughing with her or fighting with her over nothing. She didn’t even have a fucking way to know how much this was killing him. How every movie he watched and song he listened to made every part of Ben just fucking miss Her. He missed Her so fucking much. 

That was the worst part, really. It wasn’t that Ben had to put up with Butcher’s fucking lectures or Annie and Hughie’s goddamn sympathy. It wasn’t seeing the Kid or having to play nice with the Pussy Brigade and their terrible ideas. It was that he fucking missed Her. Mallory and Butcher would start fucking bitching about plans and intel other boring shit and Ben couldn’t look to the side and roll his eyes at Her. He had to eat alone—Ben was pretty goddamn certain he wasn’t welcome at dinners without Her—and she wouldn’t throw food at him or talk to him through large mouthfuls. He had to go into the bedroom to get changed and see Her clothing, still mixed in with his. Static. Never fucking moving from place unless Ben touched them. Because She wasn’t fucking here. If She was here she’d know what to fucking do with all of this, she always knew what to do, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t smiling at him with a pretty mouth and adoring expression. She wasn’t snorting or giggling at him with that same perfect smile. She wasn’t watching the world with sharp eyes that became soft when She looked at Ben. She wasn’t looking at Ben at all, except through the camera. All he had of Her were moments where the mask would drop. Where Her eyes would flash with confirmation through the screen that She was still Her, but nothing more. She never had enough time for anything more. 

Homelander was fucking parading Her around. After that first week—where nobody had even known if She was still in the damn city, or state, or country—She was everywhere. Red carpets and interviews and rallies where She’d stand, silent and empty, and Homelander’s side. Never speaking or moving, only smiling as Homelander guided her with a hand on Her lower back. She didn’t flinch when Homelander touched Her, but that wasn’t where She was supposed to be touched. She wasn’t meant to be herded around like a fucking sheep by Homelander. She was meant to be wrapped in Ben’s arms, safe and tucked into his side while she held his hand on Her shoulder. She was never supposed to be fucking silent. All She fucking did was talk, and when she didn’t it was because Ben was touching Her the right way—carefully and devotoutly—and all she could say was pleas of his name. But those were still goddamn sounds. Perfect fucking sounds. Ben didn’t even hear Her goddamn voice until around the third week, when everyone had been gathered around Hughie’s laptop in the dining hall to watch a film premiere for Fish-Boy’s movie and Homelander had dropped down from the sky with Her in his arms.

She’d looked fucking terrible. Still perfect, always perfect, but not Her. Ben couldn’t miss the slight gray lines under her eyes the makeup wasn’t covering, or the sheer fucking emptiness on Her face. She kept tapping her finger on the ridiculous fucking dress they had Her in—dark blue with lace and velvet that made Her face twitch almost imperceptibly whenever she looked at it—and Her cheek was being pulled into her mouth. That had almost been it. Ben had almost decided to just goddamn fuck it and go get Her now. She wasn’t fine, Homelander was still goddamn touching Her, and fuck it all Ben was getting Her back. 

But She’d spoken. For the first time in three weeks, one day, nine hours, twenty-three minutes, and fifteen seconds, Ben heard Her voice. It had been mechanical, over-saturated, but Her voice. 

They’d asked Homelander another useless, brown-nosing question about Fish-Boy and supporting sea animals, and he’d met them with too many teeth and cold eyes. And told Her to answer it. 

“Marine wildlife and its safety and preservation is a cause that’s very important to us both,” She’d smiled at Homelander, and it hadn’t reached her eyes. “Which is why, after the premiere tonight, me and Homelander will be donating 2 million dollars to the Timothy Foundation!” 

“We really care about octopi,” Homelander had kept talking, and She’d still been fucking smiling at him. “And squid, and ocean slugs.” 

She’d blinked, and Ben saw the words flash across Her face. 

Slugs aren’t cephalopods, you fucking idiot. 

She’d said me and Homelander. Not Homelander and I. She was tired, and being fucking used like a puppet, but still Her. They were letting Her speak now, and when the pussy interviewer had asked Her to spin so they could see her full dress, Ben had seen it. A jewel hair pin, completely out of place. Too fucking elegant, too fucking Her for whatever the hell they had her wearing. Green. 

So Ben had to keep waiting. It was fucking killing him—especially as they let Her speak more and more and he had to keep hearing Her voice speak words that weren’t hers—but he fucking pushed through. He wasn’t a pussy, he was a goddamn man, and if She could keep herself together then Ben could as well. For Her. 

But it was still fucking destroying him. 

The nightmares got worse. The longer She was gone, the less Ben slept. Half because the couch was not meant to be slept on—Ben’s legs kept dangling uncomfortably off the side and he could only fit one arm at time—and half because he couldn’t fucking sleep. Not without Her there, not when she was in fucking danger and that thought was chasing him into his sleep. His nightmares weren’t about Russia anymore, they were of Her, screaming and screaming and begging Ben to help Her. And Ben never could. He’d run and turn the fucking world upside down but he could never fucking save her from Homelander. He’d drop at Her side, give Ben a cold grin, and they’d both fucking vanish. 

And Ben would wake up with the drums tearing out of his chest. 

At one month, one long, horrible, mindless and suffering month of being without Her, the Thing became painful. It had been painful, reminding Ben of everything he’d lost and how the whole world was fucking shit because She wasn’t there, but now it was starting to grow bloody. It hadn’t gotten weaker with Her absence, if anything it was becoming a fucking monster. Stronger, angrier, more goddamn insistent to tell Ben that one fucking thing. The one he couldn’t figure out, the one he had needed to tell Her and had never been able to. It couldn’t use words, so it used memories to try and fucking kill him. To try and make Ben understand what he just fucking couldn’t. To make him rip himself further apart because She wasn’t fucking there. The Thing only offered him good memories, which was worse. The horrible ones—the images flashing in his head of Her fear and terror that would climb into Ben and make him want to kill whatever was making Her hurt—were justified. Ben had fucking failed her. And they reminded him to just keep fucking going until she was gone.

The good ones made him want to die. 

The memories of Her legs tangled in Ben’s or wrapped around his torso. Of Her smiling at him with so much joy and Ben kissing her when she laughed because it would turn into a moan and those were the two best sounds in the whole fucking world. Of Ben touching her, casually and always, and her leaning into him and pressing her head into his chest. Of watching Her—he always watched her, she was like a fucking star and he couldn’t look away—and how he’d memorized every perfect fucking detail of Her face. Of how her eyes would light up when she looked at him, and She’d tell him she adored him. He fucking adored Her. She was fucking perfect, still fucking perfect, always goddamn perfect. And every single piece of Ben that mattered, his will and resolve and care and mind and blood, was trapped in the tower with Her. Leaving only his body and the Thing, wrathful and desperate, to ache. His whole world fucking ached because She wasn’t there. 

And Ben couldn’t fucking do shit to get Her back. 

The Pussy Brigade was working on it. Whenever Ben would yell at them or demand updates, they’d always say they were working on it. They’d leave for meetings and missions that they’d brief Ben on, but never let him just fucking help. Let him bring Her home. Ben couldn’t go out in public, not after the tower, not when he’d been declared Public Enemy #1 by Vought and was a threat to America in the eyes of the general population. So he was fucking benched. 

“We’ve got another lead,” MM had been giving a briefing, and Ben had been half-listening. All these meetings always amounted to the same thing. Ben stayed behind, the Pussy Bridage found nothing, and She was still fucking gone. “It’s on Sage, old member of Teenage Kix’s might know some sort of fucking psychological weakness we can use against her.” 

Most of the fucking missions were about Sage. Trying to figure out what she was planning, what her long-game was, how they could get her out of the picture for an easier shot at Homelander. The pussy had locked down all of the Seven, and was taking goddamn precautions. Limited press, limited public appearances, all the focus on Her and Homelander’s fake fucking love story. On how Vought was trying to take Ben down for justice, to avenge Her. Fucking protect the country. 

“I don’t think she has psychological weaknesses,” Annie had frowned. “I think we need to be focusing on what her plan is-“

“Or we could just bloody kill her,” Butcher’s glare had been around the whole table, even at Ben. Which was stupid, because he was entirely in fucking favor of killing Sage. “Take her out permanently. Blow a hole in her fuckin chest that she ain’t gonna heal from.” 

“If you find an actual window for that,” MM had snapped. “Then let us know. Until then, we’re following the lead.” 

“It ain’t even a good lead, Mate.” Butcher had grumbled. “It’s fuckin useless. We’re not makin any progress chasing leads.” 

Ben agreed. He might have even spoken up and told MM that Butcher was, for once, fucking right about something, but the asshole never knew when to shut his mouth. 

Butcher had said Her name, and Ben had seen red. “Still with fuckin Homelander. And we don’t know what type of shit he’s doin to her while we sit on our asses-“ 

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking asswipe of a pussy.” Ben’s hiss had been a promise. A threat of blood on the tiles and Butcher’s brains scattered across the table. Butcher didn’t get to talk about Her. Didn’t get to say what she’d want, or imagine what pain Homelander was inflicting upon her, or even fucking think about her. She was lost because Butcher made her think she was worth less than the Kid, was worth less than all of them, was better off as a fucking pawn. So Butcher didn’t get to fucking say Her name.

“I’m fuckin defending her, Gov.” Butcher hadn’t stood down, because he was a goddamn self-assured idiot. “We’re all tryin to get her back-“

“I said,” Ben had pushed back the bench, standing with his fists clenched. “Shut the goddamn fucking hell up. You’re the piece of shit who said we had to wait. And you don’t get to fucking defend her, she’s not yours to fucking defend.” 

“But she’s yours?” Butcher had sneered, rising as well with tensed arms. “She’s your fucking woman? Your Sunshine? You think she feels like you’re fucking defendin her, when she’s trapped with Homelander?” 

She was Ben’s. Ben was Her’s. They didn’t fucking own each other, but She was Ben’s. To protect, to make happy, to hold and touch and- 

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Ben could hear the drums somewhere in the distance. “Or I’ll fucking kill you. You’re a weak, pathetic, excuse for a man, a manipulative, lying, backstabbing pussy. You couldn’t defend her if you fucking tried.” 

Butcher had been about to hit him. Ben had seen his fist curl, seen the flash of violence in his eyes, and fucking prayed Butcher was going to hit him. To throw a fist at Ben that he’d let land, to fucking feel it. Real, physical pain, instead of this never ending fucking ache. Then he’d fucking kill Butcher. It would be justified, the pussy would’ve thrown the first punch, so Ben could cover his hands in Butcher’s guts as he tore them out and nobody would say shit. He’d have proof, real fucking evidence, that he was fighting for Her. That he was doing goddamn something. 

But Butcher hadn’t hit him. He’d just glared, and Ben had stormed out of the dining hall. Back to exile in their apartment. Without Her. 

Hughie had tried to follow him. To fucking apologize.

“Soldier Boy!” His weak, nervous voice had called after Ben, and he’d felt fucking sick. He had never hated his supe name before, it had been his whole fucking life. He’d been fine with the Pussy Brigade using it, because to them he was Soldier Boy, and he got to be Ben to Her. But She hadn’t called him Ben in a month. He’d only heard his supe name. And now he fucking loathed it. 

He’d kept walking, and heard Hughie’s heart speed up as he chased after him.

“Wait, please just,” Hughie had taken a large gasp. “Holy shit, you walk fast. I just want to talk-“ 

“Go fucking talk to Annie,” Ben hadn’t turned around. “We’re not fucking buddies, Kid. I don’t have shit to say to you.” 

“It’s not about me-“ 

“I don’t fucking care.” 

“It’s about her!” Hughie had stopped running, just yelling Her name after Ben. “I want to talk about her!” 

Ben had turned. Not to talk. He didn’t have single fucking interest in talking about Her with anyone. But he’d needed Hughie to see his face when he spoke. “Don’t fucking say her name.” 

“She’s, she’s my friend too-“ 

“I don’t give a fucking flying shit what she is to you!” Ben had roared, closing the space between him and Hughie with furious, long steps. “Or Annie, or Butcher, or fucking anybody. She’s fucking-“ 

“She’s something to you.” Hughie had, in an act of bravery Ben hadn’t imagined him capable of, cut him off. “She’s something really important to you. Something more to you. I, uh, I don’t really know what, but I know she is. And I just, I wanted to ask if you were okay. With her not here. You haven’t really talked to us-“ 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben wasn’t about to talk about his fucking feelings. Not with Hughie, not with fucking any of them. Ben’s feelings weren’t important right now, and they weren’t for the Pussy Brigade to ever fucking see. Let alone fucking talk to him about. 

“I’m, I think she wouldn’t want you to feel guilty.” Hughie had stood his ground, and Ben was almost impressed. “She cares about you. Like a lot, a kind of insane amount. And we all care about her, but she really, really cares about you. And like I said, she’s kind of more to you. So I just, I want to help.”

She was more to Ben. She was the whole fucking world to Ben. Fucking perfect, and she wouldn’t want Ben to feel guilty. She’d probably fucking apologize to him, or get pissed at him for being a dick to Hughie.

You’re being a baby, Benjamin. Her voice ran through his head. This isn’t anyone's fault. Not Hughie’s, not yours. I mean, a lot of things are your fault, but this isn’t one. 

Ben didn’t fucking care. He’d still lost Her. He might miss Her, and it might be destroying him that She was gone, but he’d see Her again. Soon. And he wouldn’t fucking break, so that She could. When she was safe. With him. 

“I’m not a fucking pathetic pussy who needs you to jerk me off about my goddamn emotions.” Ben had sneered at Hughie. “And she’s not fucking here. So don’t pretend you’d know what she’d fucking say or do or want.” 

None of them fucking knew Her like Ben did. None of them had any clue what She’d want, they barely had a grasp of what She fucking do, and they wouldn’t let Ben tell them. They knew he wouldn’t leave, not until She was home, but they still didn’t trust him. Not like She trusted him. Not like Ben trusted Her. And any care they had for Her was worth nothing compared to how She was fucking everything to Ben. How he was fucking devoted to Her, how he- 

“What would she want?” Hughie had asked, taking a slight step back but not leaving. “What do you think she would do?” 

“She’d talk to Neuman.” Ben had shocked himself with the words, because they’d fucking fallen out of him with certainty. She would talk to Neuman. And She wouldn’t bother asking about Sage. She’d look for breaks in Vought, or Homelander.

Sage is too smart to leave a leak. Her voice mused in Ben’s head. We need an in. A way to pull Homelander’s attention and trust away from her, or find a breach that Homelander is responsible for. He’s not a fan of being told what to do. You need to exploit something she can’t control or predict. Neuman worked with them both. She’d have an idea what they clashed about, and we can use that. 

Hughie had stared at Ben. “Neuman? What would Vicki-“ 

“She worked with Homelander and Sage.” Ben had echoed his imagined words of Her, saying Her name and trying not to let it hurt. “Would think chasing after Sage’s weaknesses was stupid. She’d think it’s a waste of time, especially after a fucking month with no result.” It’s the definition of madness, Benjamin. This door isn’t opening, you can’t brute force your way through it. Find another entrance. “She’d want to talk to someone reliable. Find another fucking way, that actually works.” 

Ben had left Hughie gaping in the hall, and marched away. Back to the apartment. Alone. 

Another week passed, and nobody had called Ben for a meeting. He was running out of patience. They were nowhere fucking closer to Her. He had to keep fucking watching her on the TV, watch Homelander touch her incorrectly and repulsively, watch Her smile in a way that wasn’t hers. He was kept from insanity by those small moments that proved She wasn’t gone, just not safe, but Ben was at the end of his fucking line. 

He was about to do something. Every day he’d been getting closer to doing what he should’ve from the fucking start, because the Pussy Brigade kept saying they were playing this like She would, but they fucking weren’t. Ben knew how she’d play this, he’d even damn spelled it out for them, and they were still doing it fucking wrong. 

He was going to do something. Today. Now. Ben was going to just fucking risk it, and everyone could hate him and he couldn’t give a single shit about that. He was getting Her back, his way, today- 

His phone buzzed. Lighting up with a message from Hughie. It stabbed Ben’s chest to have to read it, because he had to look at Her face on his lockscreen and see the name She’d entered for Hughie’s contact. But he did anyway. He wasn’t a fucking pussy. He could read a damn text. 

Hughie Campbell; Cocksucker, don’t be a cunt.

We’re having a meeting.

Please come ASAP. 

When Ben arrived in the dining hall, everyone was gathered around Hughie’s laptop again. He was starting to think this was some sort of fucking mating ritual of theirs, with how damn often they did it. 

“Oh, you’re here.” Hughie sounded surprised. As if he hadn’t fucking told Ben to come. “You’re uh, on time. The call hasn’t started.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about.” 

“We’re calling Neuman,” MM snapped, meeting Ben’s eyes with a glare. “Congrats, motherfucker. Looks like your idea might actually work.” 

Ben scowled, but stalked around the table. He didn’t gather in their little fucking herd—standing off to the side as they all shot him glances—but waited. They were finally fucking being half as smart as She was, so he’d put up with their weird looks and goddamn attitudes to make sure they didn’t fuck this up. 

Neuman appeared on the screen after five minutes of heavy silence. Ben immediately knew where she was. His old room, in the safe house.

For her sake, he hoped someone had fucking cleaned it before she arrived. 

“Hi, guys.” Neuman’s voice crackled slightly, but the video remained smooth. “Mallory said you had some questions for me?” 

“How are you, Vicki?” Hughie asked, apparently with no fucking sense of urgency. “Have you and Zoe settled okay?” 

“We’re good,” Neuman shrugged. “I mean, a little stir-crazy, but good. I heard about the Anomaly, I’m really sorry-“ 

“This is actually about her.” As Annie spoke, Ben’s fists tightened at this side. “We’re, uh, we’re trying to find a weakness in Homelander. Kill him faster, get her back. And we were wondering if you had any ideas.” 

“Ideas?” 

“You worked with both the cunt himself and Sage,” Butcher drawled. “You can’t be fuckin clueless as to what they might be plannin.” 

“I mean,” Neuman frowned. “I remember Sage was trying to develop a gas to use against Soldier Boy-“ 

“We got that already,” MM leaned forward, slightly over Hughie’s head. “We’re thinking more long term shit. Something we can use against Homelander, something that might make him turn away from Sage. She’s the real threat right now. We’ve got Soldier Boy to blast Homelander, but we can’t get a shot as long as Sage is keeping him in check.” 

“Huh,” Neuman’s face twisted in thought. “I’m not sure. In November, right before Maine, I heard Homelander and Sage fighting about something. Homelander had gone somewhere and not told her. She said if word got out it could ruin everything she’d planned, and he said she wasn’t his boss, he was hers, and it had been for his own health.” 

“Health?” Annie frowned. “He’s invulnerable.” 

“Mental health,” Neuman corrected herself. “He said he needed closure. That he’d gotten it, and now he could move forward.” 

“The hell would that asshole need closure about?” MM and Butcher exchanged looks. “He kills everyone he hates, everyone who threatens him. He doesn’t have a family-“ Ben didn’t miss the pause, or everyone’s quick looks in his direction before MM continued. “Or at least one that matters. No childhood, no friends, no past. The fuck-“ 

“He was made in a lab, no?” It was the French Prick who spoke up, looking around at his team for confirmation. “That is his childhood. Maybe that is what he needed to move forward from.” 

Butcher nodded slowly. “Prick is bloody obsessed with family. That was his whole fuckin thing with Ryan and-“ 

Her. That was Homelander who fucking thing with Her. And Ben wasn’t going to let Butcher fucking say it. He stormed forward, into Neuman’s view. 

“Where the hell is Homelander’s lab. Where they fucking grew him, or raised him, or any of that fucking shit.” 

Neuman gaped at him, shaking her head slightly before speaking. “It was, um, I don’t really know. Sage said he couldn’t just disappear right now, and Homelander said he hadn’t even left the city. So he was in New York, but I don’t know where.” 

“It’s a big fucking city,” MM muttered behind Ben. “I don’t think we’ve got the time to comb it for one lab.“ 

Kimiko was signing something to the French Prick. Fast, with a determined face and a lot of nods. 

“What the fuck is she saying,” Ben snapped, and could feel MM’s glare through his skull. He didn’t fucking care. 

“She said that sounds similar to where they kept her,” the French Prick said Her name for clarity, watching Kimiko carefully. “That we found that by looking for the dead scientist. That the Homelander probably was not paying his childhood home a visit for fond memories.” He looked over Ben, at Butcher. “She wants to tell Monsieur Butcher that when they made her into a monster, they tried to find weaknesses. She thinks they might have done the same for the Homelander.” 

“MM,” Butcher said, and Ben looked back to see him frowning. “Call Grace. Tell her we need any records of Vought scientists she’s got. Lad,” Hughie turned as well, blinking at Butcher. “Keep talkin to Neuman. See what else she’s got while we work this.” 

Butcher started to walk away, and Ben followed. Blocking the asshole in his path. 

“The bloody hell is your problem-“ 

“I’m going on this one.” Ben snapped. “There’s not fucking shit you can do to stop me. We won’t be in public, this is the best fucking lead we’ve gotten in a goddamn month, and I’m fucking going to check it. Make sure you pussies don’t fuck it up.” 

He thought Butcher would argue. Tell Ben to shove it, that he was still benched. But he just looked Ben up and down with a scowl and narrowed eyes, and shrugged. 

“Your fuckin funeral, mate.”

Ben let Butcher walk around him, and stalked back to the table. Sitting silently off to the side as Hughie, Annie, and Kimiko all spoke to Neuman. The French Prick had left with MM, leaving Kimiko to type her thoughts on Her phone, but Hughie always repeated them aloud for Neuman, and Ben had fucking ears. Nothing interesting happened—New Noir was weird, Neuman was pretty sure Ashley was bald, and something called a Believe Expo was happening in a week—until the end of the hour. 

“How are you guys holding up?” Neuman asked, and Hughie shrugged. 

“I mean, we’re fine. Can you, uh, repeat the thing about the Deep-“ 

“What, that he’s an octopus fucker?” Ben couldn’t see Neuman’s face, but she sounded exasperated. “You already knew that Hughie. I’ve told you everything I have, I just want to talk to my friends.” 

“We’re okay, Vicki,” Hughie glanced across the table to Ben, watching silently. “I mean, it’s rough, but we’re okay.” 

“How is everyone, with the whole Anomaly thing?” 

Ben really fucking wished they’d all stop looking at him like that. Like he was about to start fucking crying. 

“We’re mostly just worried about her,” Annie said slowly. “I mean, we miss her. It’s weird without her here. But there’s not much we can do until we kill Homelander.” 

“That sounds like Butcher talk, Annie.” Nueman said flatly. “That doesn’t sound like you guys.” 

“It is Butcher talk,” Hughie admitted, rubbing his neck. “But he’s not always wrong-“ 

“I didn’t say he was,” Neuman interrupted. “I just wouldn’t trust his judgment with this. I mean, he’s being a hypocrite.” 

Annie frowned, glancing up at Ben again. At his hands, curled into white-knuckled fists as he listened. “About what? Like, with Ryan?” 

“No,” Hughie shook his head, giving Annie a sad look. “Becca. That’s what you’re talking about, right, Vicki?” 

“It is. I mean, this is almost exactly like Becca. And you told me he was doing anything to get her back. But Soldier Boy-“ 

All eyes shot up to Ben, and he held their weak, nervous fucking gazes as Hughie cut off Neuman with a stutter. 

“He’s, uh, Vicki he’s here. Soldier Boy, he kind of, uh, he’s listening.” 

Neuman didn’t falter. “Good, he should hear this. Butcher had a wife, Homelander did to her what he’s done to the Anomaly. And Butcher did pretty much anything he could to get her back. Searched for her, killed for her, whatever he could to get her back. I mean, Stan even told me they cut a deal for it. If Butcher wasn’t such a heartless asshole, he’d care more about Soldier Boy and the Anomaly. About how Becca didn’t seem like the type who would want him to let what happened to them happen to anyone else.” 

Hughie swallowed. “I don’t think he doesn’t care, or isn’t trying to help her. I just-“

“Hughie, don’t make excuses for him. I saw how Soldier Boy was about her. Like Butcher was for Becca. And if he’s still there, then that old asshole should know that Butcher did whatever it took for Becca. He might even be right, but he’s still a hypocrite.” 

Ben left. If they all kept looking at him like that, with all that fucking pity, he’d lose his goddamn mind. He already fucking knew about Butcher’s wife. The Kid’s mother. He’d learned about her on the first go. She’d had Homelander’s son, got killed, Butcher had made her some sort of fucking promise, and Ben hadn’t given a fucking shit about any of it.

But he’d never known Becca Butcher. He’d heard Her talk about Becca, when she’d yelled at Butcher about Homelander and when they’d been planning to trade Her in for Ryan, months ago. But he’d never known about Becca outside of those sparse details. He didn’t know the lengths that Butcher had gone to. Lengths he wasn’t allowing Ben to go to for Her. 

Ben was going to fucking kill him. 

Jesus, Benjamin. Were you even listening to Neuman? 

Shut up. His voice in his own head was a growl. Ben didn’t need Her voice to tell him off right now, because even in his head she was always fucking right, and Ben didn’t have any interest in being talked out of this. 

You shut up. Butcher’s a dick, but he’s not an idiot. 

He’s a fucking hypocrite, Sunshine. You’d be fucking home if he wasn’t such a goddamn cold-hearted pussy. I’d have gotten you day one if Butcher hadn’t stopped me. 

You wouldn’t have gotten me, though. Butcher’s, for once, right. Homelander would’ve hidden me the moment you stepped foot in the tower. 

Homelander hid Becca. Butcher still fucking fought to get her back. 

Becca died, Ben. She’s like, really dead. 

Ben faltered for a second. Becca had died. That doesn’t fucking mean anything. 

I’d say it’s kind of important. If I’m really Becca two, then maybe Butcher’s just trying not to get me killed as well. 

You can’t fucking die. And you’re you, not Butcher’s fucking dead wife. 

I know that. All I’m saying is maybe Butcher just doesn’t want you to lose me, like he lost Becca. 

I don’t think he gives a fuck about me that much, Ben drawled Her name in his head, and could almost fucking hear Her sigh. 

He’s not heartless, Ben. I mean, he’s a cunt. But he’s not Homelander. He’s capable of thinking of others, sometimes. 

Ben wasn’t a fan of how, when She was just a voice in his head, he couldn’t shut Her up by kissing her. He had to listen to Her, and she was always fucking right. She was too good, too kind, but right.

Ben didn’t kill Butcher. And, when he was called to the dining hall two days later for a briefing, there was finally a fucking plan. 

“We’re heading to Queens,” MM was stood at the head of the table, Butcher a pace behind him. “A group of known Vought scientists and a handful of chem and bio majors at NYU interning with Vought all went missing round November, and they all got cars that were parked in Queens. Mallory found a building that’s getting electrically wired underground, and we’re going to check it out. Got it?”

Annie raised her hand, and MM nodded. “Do we have a way in? If it’s a Vought building-“ 

“Ain’t nobody been seen entering it since all those fuckin nerds vanished,” Butcher shrugged. “I’d wager we’ll just walk right in.” 

“What about security, Butcher. Keycards. Locks.” 

“We’ve got America’s strongest cunt comin with us,” Butcher shot Ben a smirk. “You think you can open a locked door, Gov?” 

Ben scowled at him. “You fucking know I can, you pussy.” 

“That’s the bloody spirit.” 

“Do we, uh, what are we looking for?” Hughie glanced nervously between Ben and Butcher as he spoke. “Is it just kind of a pray we find something situation, or is there like something specific?” 

Butcher didn’t stop glaring at Ben as he answered. “A weakness, Lad. Anythin that Homelander or Sage wouldn’t want us to see or know.” 

Hughie nodded. “Like a weapon? Or a drug?” 

“We’re not sure yet, kid. But I’m sure there will be something.” MM sighed, then muttered under his breath. “There better be fucking something.” 

“Oh, okay. So it’s all of us, or-“ 

“Me, Soldier Boy, MM, Kimiko, and Frenchie. You and Starlight will stay and hold down the fort.” Butcher clasped Hughie on the back, and Hughie gave a sputtering cough. Idiot had just put water in his mouth. “Try not to fuck on the tables while we’re gone.” 

“We’re not going to fuck on the tables, asshole.” 

Butcher winked at Annie. “Long as you clean up after yourselves, I don’t care where you twats fuck.” 

“It’s not your business-“ 

“As much as I’d love to have another long and graphic conversation about my co-workers sex lives,” MM cut Annie off with a glare at Butcher. “Can we get our fucking asses up and into the van?” 

“I’m not the one who can’t keep it in my fuckin pants, Mate-“ 

“We all keep it in our pants!” Annie was almost shouting. “Everyone keeps it in their pants, it’s not our fault we’re capable of love, you lonely, bitter asshole!” 

“Love ain’t lust, Starlight-“ 

“Can we please fucking move-“ 

Ben stood up, and the Thing was trying to fucking kill him. It was Her, she had to know that unspeakable fucking thing Ben couldn’t goddamn understand- 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” MM shouted after him, Butcher and Annie still locked in their pointless fucking argument that was making the Thing go feral. 

“I’m fucking getting ready.” Ben snapped, not bothering to turn. “And I want a gun.” 

He didn’t wait to hear MM’s response. If they wouldn’t give Ben a gun, he’d take one. And there was not a fucking world where they could stop him from bringing his shield or wearing his suit. This was fucking important, and their bitching and moaning about protocol and safety wasn’t going to help with fucking shit. 

I feel like you just really want a gun, Ben. Her voice hummed, carrying through the silence of their apartment. 

I do want a fucking gun. It’s a goddamn useful weapon. 

You’ve done fine without one before.

No, I didn’t. I gave you my gun and I fucking lost you.  

And how the hell would the gun have stopped that? 

I don’t fucking know. But it would’ve. 

You can just want the gun, you know. You’re allowed to just want something. 

I only fucking want you. Ben's jaw was going to crack. The gun will help me get you. I don’t want the damn gun, I want you. 

Aw, I want you too, Pretty Boy. 

You as well. 

Fuck you. 

“I wish I fucking could, Sunshine.” 

He’d spoken aloud again. He had to fucking control that better, or the Pussy Brigade would start asking questions Ben didn’t want to answer. 

They were taking the Pussy Mobile. Butcher’s car only fit five—a limited they’d tested once and had no interest in testing again—and nobody seemed thrilled with Ben’s pitch of just leaving Butcher behind, so he found himself in their awful fucking van, pressed up against the wall without Her at his side. The ride was silent, and Her ghost—not a fucking ghost, she wasn’t fucking dead—whispered in his ear the whole goddamn way to the Bronx. 

Do you think they ever clean this thing? 

No. 

I mean, they have to. They all get shot and beat up way too much for it to not be a biohazard. 

It doesn’t fucking smell like they clean it. 

But MM’s like, obsessed with cleaning. I don’t think he’d step foot in here if they didn’t. 

Maybe this is where Butcher jerks off. MM cleans it and Butcher jerks off right after. 

Her giggle rattled around Ben’s head. What type of porn do you think he watches? 

Hentai. 

How the fuck do you know what Hentai is, old man. 

There was fucking hentai in the 80s, Sunshine. I’m not a damn dinosaur. 

See, I don’t believe that. 

Doesn’t fucking matter what you believe. You’re the one who’s going to fucking benefit from my years of experience and study. 

Ben could see the flush of her face somewhere behind his eyes. Could just fucking hear Her heartbeat pick up, a million miles away. 

Shut up. 

Someone backs down real fucking fast when she’s horny. 

I’m not the one who just promised to fuck me with tentacles. 

I never said shit about tentacles. 

Fuck you. 

I want to. 

You’re impressively horny, Benjamin. 

It’s all for you, beautiful. 

Thanks, that means a lot. I’ve always aspired to be an old man’s spank bank. 

Brat. 

Cunt. And you’re wrong. Butcher is actually into femdom. 

Ben snorted aloud, and the French Prick gave him a strange look. 

He was losing his fucking mind. He missed her, and he was losing his damn sanity over it. 

This better fucking work. 

Butcher had been—fucking annoyingly—right. They all but walked right through the front door, down into the basement, and found the elevator. Without any damn buttons. 

Butcher hadn’t been right. Good. 

“What the fuck are supposed to do now?” MM scowled at the sealed metal doors. “We don’t have a keycard, and there aren’t any more stairs-“ 

“I’m fucking thinking, MM, calm the bloody hell down-“ 

Ben’s attention was pulled away when Kimiko tugged on his sleeve, looking up at him with wide eyes. “What the hell do you want.” 

She waved the French Prick over and began rapidly signing, occasionally pointing between herself and Ben. 

“Mon Coeur,” the French Prick frowned, glancing at Ben. “I am not sure that this is a good idea.” 

She shook her head, and repeated a lot of the same signs once more.

“But-“ 

She covered the French Prick’s mouth with a hand, pointing at Ben again before removing it. 

“Very well,” the French Prick addressed Ben with a twitchy gaze. “She says both you and she could go down the shaft. Send the elevator up after you. But,” the French Prick looked back at Kimiko. “Mon Coeur, what if you cannot send the elevator-“ 

“That’s a good fucking idea.” Ben snapped. “Tell her that’s a goddamn good fucking idea.” 

Kimiko flipped Ben off, and the French Prick sighed. 

“She can hear you.”

“I don’t give a shit what she can and can’t hear. We’re doing that.” He turned over to MM and Butcher, still fucking arguing. “Me and her,” Ben pointed to Kimiko, still glaring at him. “Are going down.” 

“The fuck are you on about.” MM grunted, looking between them wearily. “Frenchie-“ 

“Kimiko wishes for Soldier Boy to open the doors, then they will both jump down the shaft. They will survive, and send the elevator up for us.” 

“Ain’t no way in Satan’s fucking taint we’re letting you out of our sight, Gov.” Butcher sneered. “Me and MM will figure it out, and you’ll follow our fuckin orders-“ 

“Fuck you, Butcher.” Ben marched over to the elevator. “I’m not going to fucking run or betray you. I’m not a fucking backstabber, and if I wanted to pull something I would’ve already.” 

As Ben pulled the metal apart, ripping the doors open with ease, he still fucking heard MM’s low mutter to Butcher. These fucking pussies kept forgetting he had super hearing. 

“He’s not lying, Butcher. If he was going to betray us, he’d have done it in fucking February. When she went soft of him.” 

“MM, you of all damn fuckers-“ 

“I know what I’m fucking saying.” MM’s voice had gone cold. “I goddamn know who I’m defending. And I also know he’s not going anywhere. Not until Homelander’s dead.” 

Not until She’s back. MM didn’t have to say it. He knew, just as well as Ben knew, that he was fucking stuck here until She returned to him. Technically he could run. He could fuck the whole lot of them and break out, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t leave Her—with Homelander or just in fucking general—so he wouldn’t go anywhere until She could go with him. 

And Butcher fucking knew it as well, so the asshole fell silent, and let Ben pry the doors fully open. 

Nobody ended even fucking needing to jump down, making the whole goddamn argument pointless. The elevator was stuck right at their level, and didn’t require a keycard to operate, so they were able to all fucking ride it down the normal way. 

When they finally halted after far too goddamn long and the doors opened with a pleasant ding, the smell hit Ben’s nose first. The whole lab, tubes and equipment and computers, was covered in a goddamn horrible smell. It was rotten, and fucking disgusting. 

“Merdre,” the French Prick spoke first, the group filtering off the elevator. “I am not the only one who is smelling this, non?”

“I sure as shit do,” MM glanced around the lab as they spread out and spotted the brain-crushed, pantless, very dead man who had a clean hole right through his fucking dick. “But it’s fucking putrid, it can’t just be Dick-hole.” 

“If someone finds a candle or somethin,” Butcher drawled. “We’ll light it. Until then we’ve fuckin work to do.” 

Ben stared around the lab, and his eyes landed on a large, red door. Sealed shut, burn marks scorched around it. It took only five seconds to open it. One to wish he hadn’t fucking bothered. 

“Christ on a fucking Cross.” Ben muttered. “It’s not just Dick-hole.” 

It was blood. Fucking bodies and blood and rotting flesh smeared and torn across the room. A slowly decaying body of a woman—untouched save for being tied to a chair and half her face having fucking fallen off in death—was in the corner, but everyone else had been ripped limb from fucking limb. 

“Bloody hell,” Butcher muttered, a few feet behind Ben. “I’d say it’s a safe wager that Homelander’s visit wasn’t a happy fuckin reunion.” 

“Holy fucking shit!” Ben turned to find MM’s face twisted in a nausea, hands raised like if he blocked the view it might vanish. “Some warning might have been fucking appreciated-“ 

“We ain’t got time for warnings, MM.” Butcher started moving around the lab, poking over papers and frowning at folders. “Faster we find what we’re fuckin lookin for, faster we get out of this place.” 

It took four hours. Four whole goddamn hours for four grown fucking men and Kimiko to tear apart the whole goddamn lab and find absolutely nothing of use. Ben took half of the room—he moved faster than all four of the pussies combined—while MM and Kimiko searched their half closer to the elevator and the French Prick and Butcher searched closer to the door. Files and papers and records and half-finished experiments all amounting to goddamn zero. They overturned tables, ripped plaster off of walls, and shouted at each other to keep fucking looking. Still finding nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Kimiko gave up first, around hour two, and turned on the old TV in the corner of the lab. Squatting down next to Dick-hole and watching the only channel the piece of shit seemed to get, Vought News Network. The French Prick joined her almost immediately, and around hour three MM stood off to the side—away from Dick-hole—and watched with them. 

By hour four it was just Ben and Butcher. Destroying whatever was fucking left. Finding nothing. 

Butcher grabbed Ben’s shoulder, and Ben nearly fucking punched his face in on instinct. 

“Calm your bloody shit, Gov, I ain’t tryin to fight.”

“Then what the fuck-“ 

“Nobody’s cleared the office. It’s the last check on our list.” 

Butcher was right. Nobody had stepped foot in the maggoty, fly ridden and foul smelling office. They’d all shot it looks of repulsion, but nobody had actually set foot in the guts and innards. 

“I am not fucking going in there, Butcher.” MM called from the TV. 

“I ain’t askin you, but someone’s fuckin gonna have to-“ 

Ben didn’t wait to hear any more of their pointless arguing. He spun around and stomped into the room, ignoring how everything smelled so much goddamn worse when he had to be surrounded by it. He turned over severed legs, marred torsos, and one face still twisted in a scream, looking for fucking something. Anything. A single goddamn thing that could help them- 

There’s a desk, Benjamin. Maybe check the desk. 

Shut the fuck up. 

I mean, it’s pretty obviously right there- 

I said shut up. 

Cunt. 

Brat.

What would you do without me? 

Fucking die. Ben would fucking die without Her. He was fucking dying without Her. Nothing fucking mattered, nothing was beautiful anymore. He was losing his mind, but it didn’t matter because She wasn’t here to lose it with him. 

You’re just a voice in my head, Sunshine. I’m the one who saw the desk in real goddamn life. 

Maybe. He could fucking see Her shrug. But I’m the one who pointed it out. 

Ben rolled his eyes as he searched through the desk, and tried to ignore the wrath of the Thing inside him. How much he fucking missed Her. How he was dying without Her. How he was pretty fucking sure that’s why the Thing was growing so agonizing. He was simply just going to die without Her. 

There, Ben. Files. 

They’re covered in fucking blood. 

Literally everything’s covered in fucking blood. Get the files. 

It was a simple manila folder with CLASSIFIED written large black letters but no other apparent precautions to keep it classified. Ben thumbed through them, not really fucking sure what he was actually looking for. 

It’s like porn, Pretty Boy. You’ll know it when you see it. 

Half the files were redacted, the other half were full of a bunch of fucking science words Ben didn’t understand. But one, stained in rusting red and typed in faded, small letters, looked important. Ben squinted at the words, and he’d found it. He’d fucking found it. 

He stomped out of the room, shoving the papers into Butcher’s hands. 

“The bloody shit is this.” 

“Read it.” Ben snapped. “Use your fucking eyes and read it.” 

Butcher’s brow furrowed, scanning the page, and looked back up at Ben with a wide grin. “Well fuckin done, Gov.” 

“What is it?” MM called, pushing off the wall. “The hell did you find.” 

“Homelander’s fuckin recipe.” Butcher smirked back down at the paper, reading it aloud in a gleeful tone. “Due to the nature of the donor,” Butcher winked at Ben. “The boy will be immune and unaffected by the original formula of compound V. His DNA had been engineered to engage with specific elements of the drug (i.e. strength, durability, enhanced hearing and vision) and ignore others (i.e. immortality, complete healing factor) and as such additional shots will be null.” Butcher looked up at MM with a childlike grin. “Cunt ages no matter what. If we don’t get him, fuckin time will.” 

“Butcher, we can’t just wait fifty fucking years for time-“ 

“Don’t lose your pants, mate, there’s more,” Butcher’s attention returned to the paper. “Comparatively, the compound V used in other super-abled subjects will overload the boy’s body, sending him into a temporary vegetative state. Unlike the original formula, modern V shots act as only an enhancer on the subject, and his body is designed for an exact amount, blah, blah, lot more of the same shit.” Butcher looked around the room, and Ben had never seen him look this genuinely fucking happy. “We’ve fuckin got it. We’ve finally fuckin got it.” 

MM shook his head slowly. “You’re telling me, this whole goddamn time, all we’ve had to do was shoot the motherfucker up with V?” 

“Occam’s fuckin Razor,” Butcher shrugged. “We’ll need to get a real bloody sharp needle, and some V, but then we’re fucking golden. Sage won’t matter if we can turn the cunt into a coma patient.” 

“We could go to the Believe Expo,” the French Prick had turned away from the TV, but was still sat next to Kimiko and Dick-hole. “That is where they were previously transporting the V, it is a good start.” 

“Bloody good idea, Frenchie,” Butcher nodded, a maniacal grin still plastered across his face. “Let’s head out, we’ve got some fuckin work to do.” 

The French Prick started to rise, but Kimiko grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. 

“Mon Coeur-“ 

She grabbed his head, physically turning the French Prick’s eyes back to the screen. Ben’s followed, even as MM and Butcher moved to the elevator, and he froze in place. 

It was Her. In that same stupid fucking news room Homelander had been dragging Her to, wearing a fucking costume. An all red supe costume that she’d have made fun of. Called frivolous and gaudy and other pointlessly big words. It look ridiculous and out of goddamn place on Her body. On Her—too fucking perfect to be wearing so stupid—across from the Haircut, smiling. 

No Homelander. 

“Oi, Gov, let’s fuckin move-“ 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ben stomped to stand behind Kimiko and the French Prick, unable to rip his eyes from the screen as the interview began. 

The Haircut spoke first. “Anomaly, thank you for joining us today.” 

She smiled. No teeth, no light joy. Fucking empty. “Thank you for having me.” 

Her voice was too high, too sweet, with no edge or amusement. It made Ben’s skin fucking crawl. 

“Now, this is your first interview since you’ve returned from Soldier Boy’s captivity. How have you been recovering?” 

“As well as I can be,” She wasn’t even blinking. Like a damn robot. “Homelander has been incredibly supportive and understanding, but it’s been hard to keep it in.” 

The Haircut leaned forward. “Keep what in?” 

“The truth,” Her face was a portrait of sadness and confliction. Her pout too large, her eyes too doe-like, timidness slathered on every feature. “It’s been so hard to recover, fully recover and move on, when nobody even knows.” 

“What the fuckin hell is she doin?” Butcher and MM had walked up behind Ben, and Butcher’s grunt was low. Almost worried. 

On the TV The Haircut, still smiling at Her, was blinking in surprise, shooting looks off the camera. “Um, that sounds very difficult-“

“I mean,” She gave a pained sigh. “I just can’t believe they’ve tricked you.” 

Nobody in the lab was breathing. Ben wasn’t fucking breathing, trying to just focus on Her words over the rapid heartbeats around him. 

“I’m not sure I’m following-“ 

“Starlight!” Her voice had gotten desperate. Turned into packaged, too loud, exaggerated desperation. “She’s been lying to all of you, working with Soldier Boy since the start! The CIA, they woke,” she gave a choked sound. “Soldier Boy,  he never died, and they woke him up to use against Homelander. They’ve forgiven all his crimes against this great country and have been trying to use him to kill Homelander! And Starlight’s been helping him keep me away! They were going to use me as bait, because they knew he’d always save me, and then kill him!” 

She broke down in tears as the Haircut gaped at Her. Pretty tears, with no sobs or screams or gasps. Just pretty, pouting tears. 

“What the hell-“ 

MM’s words were cut off by the Haircut, giving Her a comforting, nervous part on the arm as he spoke. “That’s, wow. I mean, you heard it here first, folks. Soldier Boy isn’t in fact a terrorist, but a CIA plant, working with Starlight to kill our great heroes. I, uh,” the Haircut looked back to Her. “Is there anything you’d like to say? To Soldier Boy?” 

She fanned Her face, wiping away one stray tear. “If he's listening, I just want him to know I’m not broken.” The Haircut pointed down the camera, and She turned to stare into it. Through the screen, right at Ben. “You tried to burn me, but I’m not broken. And I’ll see you soon.” 

“For justice?” 

She smiled at the Haircut weakly. “Of course.” 

As the Haircut moved onto a commercial break, Ben stared at Her through the screen. In Her stupid fucking costume, giving the Haircut a fake fucking smile. And Ben’s blood felt hot. 

When the TV clicked off, Butcher spoke first. “What the bloody fuckin shit was that.” 

Ben turned to Butcher with a glare. They were not even going to entertain the idea that She’d flipped. Not when she was such a fucking genius. “She just fixed a lot of your fucking problems for you. Like she always fucking does.”

The French Prick frowned. “I do not see how this helps us-“ 

“The best lie is made of the truth,” MM watched Ben carefully, his brain clearly moving a lot goddamn faster than the rest of them. “And she just said all the right things, in the wrong way.” 

“In a way that saves your fucking asses,” Ben snapped, and Butcher scoffed. 

“If anything She just fuckin damned us-“ 

“Butcher,” MM shook his head. “He’s right. She just did us a huge favor. Nobody already aligned with Starlight will believe the whole kidnapped narrative. We can flip this easy to Soldier Boy aligned with Starlight and to protect the public, and she was just as dangerous as Homelander. We didn’t kidnap her, she was detained for crimes. Or we can let people start to look further into who she actually is. The footage of her and Soldier Boy fighting Homelander will resurface, same with Firecracker, and we’ll just tell the fucking truth. The ball is in our court now. The CIA can distance themselves, or not. That’s up to Grace. And he,” MM pointed to Ben. “Can go in public. He’s not a terrorist anymore.” 

Butcher nodded, and as he and MM continued to talk about responses and how to play this, Ben could only fucking see Her.

Still Her. Playing it like Her. Planning something, fighting in Her own insane, fucking sacrificial way. With carefully chosen words and broken metaphors She’d never normally use that told Ben it was Her. 

He couldn’t go get Her. He was certain now, because the crack in her voice had been real when she’d said he’d always save me. Ben would always fucking save Her, and she was telling him not to. 

She was telling him She wasn’t broken. That they’d still burn together. 

That She’d see him soon.

——————

It was going to take two months, three days, fourteen hours, eleven minutes, and forty-two seconds for—if everything worked—you to go home. Back to Ben. 

But everything had to work. 

The first week, they lock you up. You only see Homelander and Sage, asking you questions you couldn’t answer because they won’t take the gag off of your mouth. 

Then Sage sits down across from you, leaning forward and speaking like you were a child. 

“I am going to give you one opportunity for this, understood?” 

You glare at her, and she sighs. 

“I am going to proceed as if you confirmed. As you know, physical threats and acts of torture are not viable for long-term cooperation. So instead I’m offering an incentive. If you work with us, cooperate fully, then we refrain from actively targeting Butcher and his associates. We can kick the can down the road, make threats, but never actively pursue action.” 

You look up at Homelander behind her, eyes narrowing, and he waves you off. 

“Please, I can fucking control myself enough to not kill them, even if they deserve it for poisoning you against me.” Homelander steps forward until he’s leering over your body. “Until you say you’re ready, I won’t kill any of them. We’ll work on us. I’ll even, look I’ll pinky promise.” 

You give him a flat look. Your hands are still wrapped and cuffed and you can’t pinky promise, even if you trusted him. Which you didn’t. 

“We’re serious,” Sage says your name, and your attention returns to her. “Until you’ve come to terms with their treatment of you, we will ensure they remain physically unharmed.” 

Sage was lying. Not about the promise, about the come to terms with their treatment part. She knows what Homelander had done. She knows you had chosen to leave. She knows about you and Ben, and even if she doesn’t fully get that you loved him she knows you’d never turn on him. Ever be ready to kill him. 

She’s feeding Homelander’s delusions. She has a plan, one that even Homelander wasn’t privy to. But you need the gloves off. Your plan needed to be set in motion. 

So you nod. 

From there, time is long. You don’t wander through the tower, or see anyone Homelander doesn’t want you to see. They’d taken off the gag and handcuffs, but you’re still locked in Homelander’s room. You’d never actually been in Homeland’s room at Vought tower before this, because he’d kept you secret. In the white room, or the lad. You’d known he had one, just from knowing generally about the Seven from the news and media and billboards everywhere, but you’d never imagined it being real. As far as you’d been concerned, he didn’t sleep. He was mechanical, monstrous, and something as human as sleep wasn’t something he was capable of. 

But he did. Homelander always, for at least an hour a night, would sleep. In the bed you were forced to use as well. He hasn’t touched you. By some miracle, Homelander hasn’t touched you. He makes you sleep in his bed and smile at him and say all the right things, but he hasn't touched you. Not like that. 

Because he’s afraid. Of you. It’s the only thing that helps you hold down your vomit, allows your fire to stay under your skin. The knowledge that Homelander is afraid of you. It’s so easy to miss, how he won’t look away from you for more than two minutes at a time. How when you move he watches you far too closely. He won’t touch you with bare skin unless he has to for the camera, and even then it’s brief flashes of something like fear. The room is kept cold, and you know it’s meant to quell your fire. It doesn’t—and you still think Sage knows that—but Homelander seems to be unwilling to take you anywhere warm. TV sets are cold, ice is offered in large cups at outdoor events, and when you’re eventually allowed out of the room, the tower is almost numbingly air-conditioned. 

It took another two weeks for them to let you leave the room. Two weeks to prove that you would behave, to make Homelander think you were coming around. Time spent being choked by artificial coconut, receiving PR training, and making small, careful moves. Carefully calculated smiles at Homelander off of the camera, small, fake flinches into his hand when someone else would come near you. 

Play the part. Play the role you’d been given and fall apart alone. Let Homelander show you off wherever he could and ask all the right questions about his life and fame. 

“Are all these people here for you?” You ask him in a too soft voice. You know they were all here for him—they were literally holding Homelander is America’s True Hero signs—but the question makes him laugh like you were a silly, stupid child, and that’s what you’d been aiming for. 

“They’re here for us,” He says your name, grinning around at the crowd, and waving at the gathered people like he was the Queen of England. 

Fucking pussy might think he is the Queen of England. Fucking bitches and moans like it. 

That made it easier. Ben’s voice would mutter in your ears, and make this all easier. Easier to look around in awe, give Homelander one of your rare smiles, and get through this. 

Then—when Homelander locks you back in his room and leaves to do who knows what—you fall over the toilet and hurl your guts of disgustingly fancy food, sobbing until it was all out. Covering your mouth with a hand so you wouldn’t scream, swallowing and drowning in your own tears. A small period, every day, where you just broke. Where you let yourself mourn and hate this and miss Ben. Wish you were anywhere but here, wish you could just go home. You just want to go home. 

But you always pick yourself up, and amble through the apartment until Homelander returns. 

He has food delivered to you. It’s pretty much whatever he wants—you think he’s not actually sure what food you like and can’t really be fucked to find out—and he’ll make you eat it with him, making sure you eat it, before informing you he’s going to bed. 

Which means you’re going to bed. 

You don’t sleep. You can’t sleep. Not when Homelander is on the other side of the mattress and everything is so cold. He hasn’t touched you, and that gets you through the night, but you’re not stupid. You know better than to try and predict what Homelander will or won’t do. To trust him to follow a pattern. Which means you lie awake at night, eyes closed and breathing controlled so Homelander thinks you’re sleeping, and try to drag your fire further up into your body. 

The cold isn’t harming it. But it keeps going numb. All your fear and pain and hatred and anger keeps washing over you, feeling like it’s going to burst out of your body, and the fire grows dormant again. And when Homelander’s too close, when there are too many cameras, when you have to smile and laugh and pretend you’re not dying, the fire falls further away. 

Ben would say you have performance issues. You’d try to punch him, tell him if anyone has performance issues it’s going to be the hundred-year-old man, and he’d laugh and remind you that you know he doesn’t have performance issues, and you miss him. You miss him so much. Because if you looked at him and said I miss you, and I love you, and I’m so sorry I should’ve just come home because I miss you and love you and you were right we should’ve just left and I’m so, so sorry, he’d just hold you. He’d pull you into his big, warm, safe body and let you scream until your voice was hoarse. 

I was right. His voice still rumbled through you, even when he wasn’t there. Even when he was just a piece of you that was always dedicated to missing him. To loving him, all the time. I was absolutely fucking right, but if you keep trying to apologize, Sunshine, I’ll lose my damn mind. So shut up. 

And you miss him more, as you became more certain you can’t let him get hurt. That your two jobs right now are to do this right, and do this careful, and never let them hurt Ben. Play your role and never let them hurt Ben. 

When you were given a choice, a say in your outfit or hair or makeup, you always chose green. It made everything in your guts and lungs painful, because it always moved your brain from I have a plan to Ben. Ben, I love you, but you have to. You have to keep telling him you were fine, you have to tell him you hadn’t broken, without actually saying it. The only sign he’s seen you and understands was that he still hadn’t appeared in Vought’s lobby, demanding they return you to him with roars of your name and a lot of violence. 

But you worry. You worry Ben will notice the days when you were just exhausted, when the cracks are starting to show because everything in you hurts. When a strange sort of beast that has started to wake in your blood wants to make everything hurt the way you are. Every time that happens—every time Homelander drags you somewhere and you have to smile and swallow down strangled noises and a vile taste when Homelander’s hand finds your body—you worry that Ben will come. You want him to come, you want more than anything in the world for him to just grab you and take you far away, but he can’t. Because this doesn’t work like that. 

You resort to allowing him to follow you. For your love of him to walk a pace behind you, a phantom nobody can see but you. 

In the first three weeks, locked in Homelander’s room and in front of cameras, it’s just you and that phantom. Nothing in Homelander’s apartment is Ben, he’d call the whole thing fucking pathetic—over-expensive bullshit, and that coffee table is too fucking ugly to even do coke off of—but he’s still there. Everywhere around you, but still just a figment of your love. In the air and thumping with your heart, and you love him. 

But not real. 

They keep asking you questions about your relationship with Homelander—you’re still not allowed to actually speak and Sage doesn’t think that’s sustainable—so they sit you down and run over the backstory. 

“So, the story is you’re Homelander’s sweetheart,” a skinny man wearing plaid—you can’t remember his name, you’re pretty sure it starts with an S—is pitching you a life story, like you’re going to make it into an Oscar-bait coming-of-age story. “Childhood best friends to lovers, star-crossed, soulmates, made for each other.” 

“But fate has other plans. Thing’s weren’t going to be so easy.” The shorter, bald one jumps in over… Sam. Sean. Steve. 

It doesn’t fucking matter. Call that one Bald Pussy and that one Skinny McBrown-Nose. 

You’ve been introduced to about a hundred different Vought employees’ dedicated to selling Homelander and Sage’s lie over the span of today alone. Bald Pussy and Skinny McBrown-Nose it is. 

“You’re torn apart at every turn. He’s in the Seven, but you don’t want the fame.” 

Bald Pussy makes a sad face, picking up again from Skinny McBrown-Nose. “You just want him.” 

“You’re an independent woman, you want a career.” 

“But he wants a family.” 

“Fights, compromises, making up because whatever happens-“ 

“You’ll always find each other.” 

They’re still bouncing off of each other, and your blood is trying to burst out of your body. You feel like something is killing you, ripping apart your head and heart and tongue and you miss Ben- 

You think they fuck each other while they rehearse this bullshit? 

The phantom is behind you. Whispering in your ear with a low, gravely, voice that—just within itself—pulls you down and holds you together. 

I’d hope this doesn’t require rehearsing. They’re just saying words people vaguely associate with love. Soulmates and made for each other mean essentially the exact same thing. 

I can’t believe this is what Vought has fucking come to. Paying a bunch of pussies to talk. Goddamn anyone can just say words about love. 

Really. 

Are you doubting me? I can be fucking romantic. 

Uh huh. 

Remember when I made you hot chocolate with all those weird pink marshmallows? 

I had to walk you through that, and you got mad the marshmallows weren’t, and I quote, “proper fucking marshmallow color. They perfected marshmallows damn decades ago, fucking idiot pussies didn’t need to make them pink and add fucking candy canes.” 

Shut the fuck up, I still did it. I’m a goddamn gentleman. 

You are not a gentleman, Benjamin. 

I fucking am, and I’m romantic. I can say shit about romance like those pussies, fucking watch me. Love, chocolate, flowers, orgasms- 

You just said orgasms. That’s not romantic. 

I can make it fucking romantic. And you fucking love the orgasms I give you. You love me. 

I do. The pain is becoming softer, something that’s sitting where it shouldn’t be. A part of you that knows all of this is just plain fucking wrong, to be here—be anywhere—without Ben. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say. 

You must really fucking love me. All you ever do is talk. 

Sage snaps your name. “You aren’t listening.” 

Show time. 

Knock them fucking dead, Sunshine. 

Shut up and let me focus. 

“Is it,” You give Homelander the most pathetic, nervous look you’re capable of. “Is it important for me to listen to them? I’m really tired, and I have a lot of downtime. You could give me a file, I promise I’d read it.” 

“It is important,” Sage watches you carefully. “You need to understand-“ 

“I understand,” you sigh, and let a little bit of your genuine exhaustion show. “I’ll say whatever I need to for this to work for you. I’m just tired, I want to go home-“ 

That does it. You called it home, and Homelander turns to glare at Skinny McBrown-Nose and Bald Pussy. “You two have written this down.” 

Skinny McBrown-Nose stutters out a response, “Uh, Seth, you said you were going to-“ 

“I told you I couldn’t, Evan, because I had that thing-“ 

“You mean your fucking dick replacement surgery?” Homelander sneers, and Seth—Bald Pussy had the S name, not Skinny McBrown-Nose—flushes and stares at the floor. “I do not care who writes it down, as long as you give it to her tomorrow.” Homelander’s sharp words make them both nod nervously, and he offers you a hand. 

You take it, slow, tentative, and deliberate, and trying not to jerk it back and scream when cold leather wraps around your hands. This is working. Everything is where it needs to be right now. Not where it wants to be, not where it should be, but where it needs to be. You can scream when it’s safe to do so, when you can muffle the sound into Ben’s skin. 

After that, Homelander tells Sage that you won’t be doing PR training anymore. You don’t hear the conversation—or, more likely, argument—but when Sage tells you she’s watching you through narrow eyes with a sour expression. She passes you a large stack of papers, tells you to memorize them fast. 

That afternoon is spent flipping through the pages, trying to focus on the words and not rip them to shreds. Most of it is information you already know, just from the PR campaign Vought’s been pushing since January. Homelander’s secret lover. Two supes from the same small town, one stronger than any before and one who's very pretty. He loves her, because she’s sweet. She loves him, because who wouldn’t? 

You have to take a five minute break after that. Five minutes of heavy breathing, thinking about happy things before you can keep reading. 

As a supe, you have fire, but it’s not well controlled, and this you can only heal herself. You’re no longer immortal. Your name, Anomaly—there’s a footnote that says you’re dropping the the part of the Anomaly, to match Homelander—is because you have absolutely no control of your powers when you use them, which is why you don’t. You finished high school and never went to college, but you got experience in marketing from following Homelander around. Your parents were married for almost 30 years before a truly tragic car accident killed them both. You had them cremated, no gravestones or other possible evidence, and decided you wanted to start a family with Homelander. Then Soldier Boy kidnapped you, and your plans were put on hold. 

Another five minutes. Happy things. 

You—this you that’s been manufactured and designed to wear your face and not be you—aren’t a real person, with interests or hobbies or anything important to say about you except you love Homelander. The personality section calls you sweet and gentle, nice and loving. You enjoy cooking, clothing, and books. That’s it. Cooking, clothing, and books. You’re an independent woman, but you love Homelander, and you gave up everything because you love Homelander and he asked you to, and you’re smart but not smarter than he is, and you’re also a girly girl but you’re still smart, but still not too smart, not enough to be alienating or off-putting or annoying, and you’re not that funny but you’re really pretty, and you love cooking and clothing and books and Homelander- 

Music. City Lights. Ben. 

Music. Ben. City Lights.

Ben. Music. City Lights. 

Ben. 

Sitting with him. Eating with him. Laughing with him. Talking with him. At him. To him. Real and safe. 

Music. City Lights. Pine trees and strawberries and malt vanilla. Movies and TV shows and music. The color green and city lights and Ben. 

The tears fall, slow and silent, and your hand is itching to your throat. You still can’t breathe. This is lonely and you’re tired and you miss Ben. You’re not breaking. You won’t break. But you’re cracking. You can’t think outside of the cold, outside of your blood trying to spill into everyone else. 

You're trapped. Homelander will come back and he might not touch you but you can’t be sure, you have to get on stage and pretend to be this half-person in the morning, and you don’t love Homelander, you love Ben. And he isn’t coming to save you, because you’ve been making sure he doesn’t, but you miss him. You want to go home. Not here, never here. This isn’t home, this is an execution room. Cold and dangerous and everything is wrong. Home is warm and safe and everything is yours. None of this is yours. None of this is you. You can’t break, you’re not allowed to break. You can’t go home if you break, but you can’t go home now, and all of this hurts. It just hurts, and you want to go home, and all of this hurt is trying to burst out of you and it’s so cold- 

Fucking breathe. The phantom hums your name around your head, into your body. Breathe. 

You can’t. You can’t breathe. You don’t know why, but this is it. This is the thing that’s going to make you collapse and not get back up. You’re going to fail because of something so pointless, that doesn’t even matter- 

It fucking matters, Sunshine. All of this shit isn’t you. You’re a fucking pain, but you’re you. Not this weak fucking hussy bitch. Breathe.

Breathe. You’re you. You’re cold and alone but you’re you. 

When you get home, because you will fucking get home. Don’t think for a goddamn second I’m going to leave you here, you will come the fuck home. And when you do, you can cry all you damn want. 

You’ll break when you're home. You’ll go home soon, and you’ll break when you’re home. Ben was going to be angry, so fucking angry you were doing this to yourself. But he’d stay. He’d always stay. 

You memorize the script, memorize the role, and play it well. Smiling. Don’t break. Say the lines they’ve given you and don’t break and spend a half hour of the Deep’s 90 minute movie throwing up in a bathroom stall. Alone. 

It takes another week for them to let you roam the floor. You’re not allowed off of 99, or into actual meetings, but they unlock the doors and you’re officially introduced to the Seven. Sage knows you, and won’t stop watching you with narrow eyes. The Deep nods at you, and tells Homelander you’re smoking hot. Noir II nods in agreement, and then starts to talk before the Deep whacks him upside the head. Ashley—who is apparently a part of this—pretends she doesn���t know you, but when your hands shake you can feel her anxiety. A-Train just gives you a nod and a nice to meet you. 

You have your first real conversation with him a day later, when he speeds into Homelander’s apartment in the middle of the day. 

“We need to fucking talk.” 

You yelp, jumping back slightly. “Please, I’m not-“ 

“Cut the bullshit. You’re not Homelander’s girlfriend, no matter what they’ve been telling us to say.” 

You watch him carefully, not fully dropping the mask. “It’s, I don’t know. I’m confused, I’m not sure-“ 

“I said cut the bullshit.” A-Train snaps. “They don’t put cameras in Homelander’s room, he’s not going to find out about this. You can drop the act.” 

You pause. He might be lying. He could be baiting you out, but he doesn’t seem like the type. If he didn’t trust you, he’d probably just keep yelling until you confirmed his suspicions. And, based on the way he keeps looking at the door, pacing back and forth, A-Train’s not supposed to be here. Talking to you. 

“Fine.” Your face falls from nervous anxiety in exhaustion. Every fiber of your features is barely held together over the exhaustion. “What.” 

“What are they planning. Your team.” 

You shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve been preoccupied. You’re the one who’s allowed to leave.” 

“They’ve locked us in since you and Soldier Boy’s little show outside. Sage is cracking down on our downtime, she’s still convinced there’s a leak.” 

“There is a leak.” You hold A-Train’s glare. “And Ben and I’s little show got Ryan Butcher out.” 

A-Train blinks at you. “Ben?” 

“Soldier Boy,” you mutter. “I call him Ben. He’s my…” You trail off. He’s not your boyfriend. Or, technically, lover. But you do love him. He’s everything, and you love him. “Friend.” 

“Friend?” He frowns at you. “Back at the diner-“ 

“It’s complicated.” 

A-Train halts in front of you. “Whatever. I don’t care about your complicated relationship with Soldier Boy. I need to know what Starlight and Hughie and MM and the rest of them are planning.”

“And I told you, I don’t know.” 

“Guess.”

“I can’t,” you hiss. “They might be planning to kill Homelander. They might be planning to kill Sage. Maybe just focus on Vought. I’m not exactly able to talk to them, so I don’t know.” 

“What about you?” A-Train glares at you, hands on his hips. “Are they not going to try and come get you?” 

“No. They’re not.” 

“I thought those assholes were all about teamwork and morality-“ 

“Morality,” your voice is softer than you want it to be. “Is relative. In this scenario, it would be immoral to focus on one person in exchange for an opportunity to kill Homelander.” 

A-Train gives you a look of disbelief. “You’re not being serious.” 

“I am not the priority.” Your nails are digging into your skin, and something in your throat has become like a stone, but you keep going. You have to keep going. “I am doing what I need to do. They are doing what they need to do. Right now, that’s what this is about.” 

“What, you think being some kind of self-sacrificing hero is going to help anyone.” A-Train scoffs. “Grow up. This is the real world, the big leagues. You’re not going to get a parade just because you did the stupid, selfless thing.” 

“I don’t want a parade.” I want to go home. “And I am well aware of the real world. The real world is expensive and tiring and lonely. I have nothing, I’m exhausted, and I’m completely fucking alone. This is hell.” The anger is trying to leave your body through your throat. “I’m not making the hard choice for glory. I’m making it for the real world.” 

A-Train glares at you for another long second, and then he’s gone in a whoosh. 

Three days pass. Three days of being alone and missing Ben and trying not to break. You’re in front of a camera almost all the time now. They won’t stop putting you in the ugliest dresses known to man, but you make sure they’re green. You make sure to look into the camera and give Ben signs. Something else that tells him you’re okay, that keeps him from trying to save you. That you miss him, but you’re fine. You’ll see him once this is over. Once all the pieces fall into place, once it’s safe and will be simple. 

You hope they’re trying to kill Homelander. Whenever you think about it you become a little lightheaded, because what if they're not. What if they’re trying to kill Sage, or the Deep, or Noir II. What if they just haven’t come for you because they’ve spent the past month planning to get you. A lot of this relies on them finding a plan to kill Homelander. Without you they’re not strong enough to keep him anywhere, and Ben can’t just ask him to stay still and take the shot. They’re going to need to keep him down, keep him still or trapped. They need to be looking for something, because all of this will be pointless if they aren’t. 

When A-Train finds you again—in another marble bathroom, and another awful gown, throwing up into the toilet—you swallow down what’s left and speak before he has the chance. 

“I still don’t know what they’re planning. But you need to find out.” 

You’re met with a blank stare for only a second as A-Train takes you in. Still knelt before the toilet bowl, tears falling, cracks appearing at the surface. “Holy shit, what are you-“ 

“I’m vomiting. You need to go to MM and tell me what they’re planning.” 

He shakes his head. “I told you, I can’t risk it. They’re watching our every fucking move, they even know I’m in this bathroom.” He freezes, staring at you. “Shit, they know you’re in this bathroom-“ 

“No, they don’t.” Your words are fast, sharp, said just before A-Train takes off. “They couldn’t put the tracker in my body. It kept burning and short-circuiting. They don’t know we’re talking.” 

A-Train nods curtly. “Fine. But I still can’t fucking risk taking a trip to talk to MM right now.” 

“You need to.” 

“I can’t, I have a family that they’ll hurt-“ 

“I’ve got a family that they’ll hurt,” you snap, standing on shaking legs. “We’ve all got families that they’ll hurt. People we care about that we have to keep safe. I’m not asking you to kill Homelander yourself, I’m asking you to find out what my team is planning.” 

“Why the hell do you need to know?” A-Train rolls his eyes. “You can’t help them, and you’re obviously having some sort of mental break that’s stopping your powers-“ 

“I am not having a mental break,” you take a rough step forward. “I’ve just been fucking kidnapped, again, so I’m crying. And I need to know so I can adjust.” 

“Adjust?” 

You laugh. It’s not a real laugh, it’s cold and tired and angry, but it feels good. You’re angry, and it’s not trying to explode from you because you can show it. “I’m working on something. I need to know what they’re planning so I can change my plans to match.” 

A-Train frowns at you. “Your plans… You mean you’re-“ 

“Not just sitting on my ass? Actually trying to help? Yeah, I am. I may not be a hero,” You jab a finger into his chest, and he flinches. “But at least I’m not a fucking pussy.” 

He’s gone again. It’s getting really annoying. But you don’t let yourself dwell on whether A-Train will help you or not. Because Homelander finds you the next day, and your timeline has to move up. 

“You’re going on TV again. Tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” your voice is soft, and something foul and molding is rooting in your gut. “Where are we going-“ 

“It’s just you.” 

You blink at him with a parted mouth, and most of the fear in your voice is real. “Just, just me?” 

“Well, obviously I’ll be going with you.” He waves you off with a hand, rubbing his forehead. “But just you on the TV. Sage wrote you a script, you’ll read it during the meeting.”

“Meeting?” 

“We’re making you a supe outfit. You fucking need it. You’re a hero, you’re my partner, putting you normal fucking human clothes give the public the wrong idea.” 

You wait for him to continue. You know better than to try and interrupt, or ask questions. 

“You’re not human. They can’t think just anyone can have what we have. If people keep seeing you dresses like a fucking actress they’ll think you’re just like them. That we’re just like them.” 

The silence is long enough for you to nod. “Okay.” 

Homelander’s look of surprise at your compliance lasts only a second before turning into satisfaction. “Good.” 

You’re going on TV, alone. You have a chance to knock the first domino down. You sit through the meeting and all the pitches and don’t speak or scream or vomit. Your costume is red, because Vought employs geniuses who understand that red and fire are often associated with each other. It’s revealing, there’s a corset and lace and high leather boots that hurt your feet. The script is bland, blatant propaganda, but it doesn’t matter. You won’t really need to memorize it anyway. 

Homelander’s gone again that night, and you’re not sure this will work, but you give it a shot. 

“A-Train?” 

Silence. He’s not an on-call angel, you’re not sure why you thought he’d respond- 

“What.” 

You turn to find him glaring at you. “I need your help.” 

“Why.”

“I can’t tell you.” 

A-Train shrugs. “Then I’m not helping you. Nice talk.” 

“Wait!” He’s not gone, just glowering at you, so you sigh and push the words out of your mouth.

“I’m going on TV tomorrow. Alone.” 

“Good for you.” 

“A-Train, I’m going on TV. Without Homelander. To give an interview.” 

“I don’t give a shit-“ 

“I’m going to do something.” You snap. “I need you to pull Homelander away, so I can do something.” 

He narrows his eyes at you. “Do what.” 

“I can’t tell you. But it’s important.” 

“Is it,” he pauses, looking around the empty apartment like Homelander might jump out and laser him. You understand the instinct. “Part of your plan? For them?” 

“Yes.” 

“To help them.” 

“Hopefully.” 

“Huh.” A-Train crosses his arms. “Why should I help you.” 

You scoff. You don’t have time for this. “Because if you don’t, then we’re all fucked.” 

“I’m already fucked. I put my skin on the line for your team, and got put in lockdown. And they still haven’t done shit-“ 

“They’re working on it.” They have to be. “I’d know more if you would just do what I asked.”

“I told you I can’t-”

“And I told you need to, if you want to actually do something. But I’m not asking for that right now.”  

He frowns at you. “What are you asking, exactly?”

“To pull Homelander away.” You repeat, sighing. “Just distract him from the studio.”

“Why.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m still not going to tell you. All I can say is it will help them if I do it. But I have to do it.”

A-Train is silent. Examining you before speaking slowly. “You think they’re going to win.” 

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.” 

“Why.” 

“Because, there’s not another option.” You swallow. “Please. All you have to do is make sure that Homelander leaves the studio. That he’s gone and busy.” 

“And this,” he finally takes off that stupid visor, meeting your eyes. “This will help those idiots? Really help them?” 

“It will.” You make your voice firm. It will help. It has to. “But I can’t do it with Homelander there.” 

“You’re really not going to tell me what exactly you’re going to do?” 

“Nope. It gives you plausible deniability.” 

“Not if I’m the one who calls Homelander away, Sage already doesn’t trust me-“ 

“So make the Deep do it. Or Noir, or literally anyone else that deserves it.” You frown into the air. “I’d go with The Deep, though. He’s too fucking stupid for them to think he planned anything.” 

A-Train takes a long breath, still glaring at you. “Fine. But if this doesn’t work-“ 

“It will.” 

“For both our fucking sakes,” he puts the visors back on, shaking his head. “It better.” 

It does. By some miracle, you get every single one of the words you’d been rehearsing for weeks out on live TV, and Homelander—pulled away for a PR crisis in which the Deep publicly admitted to fucking another octopus—doesn’t stop you. The cameras go off, the show goes to commercial, and you blink into the darkness of the studio. You have to trust they’ll understand what you said. Why you said it. That Ben or Butcher or Annie or someone will know what to do with it. That they’ll take your opening and use it, that Ben will be able to help them. 

One step down. One step closer to going home. 

You’d expected Homelander and Sage to be mad. You hadn’t slept last night, knowing that whether or not this worked you were going to have to think fast, act quick, and hope you’d done enough to make Homelander think you were just confused. Just a nervous, confused girl coming around to understand what he’d done for her, what his enemies had done to her. All you had to do was have convinced Homelander. When it came down to it, Sage’s opinion of you wouldn’t matter, not if you’d really, truly convinced Homelander. 

At first, you thought you had. He drops into the silent studio, everyone’s hushed and nervous whispers falling dead as Homelander marches up to you and yanks you up. Your mask is still on, and some of the tears are real. A small allowance of grief, for yourself. For saying everything that was true, for having to say he would always save you and know who you were speaking about. But not be able to scream Ben. Ben, I love you, into the camera and just go home. You know Ben will understand what you were telling him. He’ll have heard your words, the one explicitly for him, and understand. 

You weren’t broken. You were breaking but not broken. He hadn’t been able to burn with you, but he hadn’t failed you. Ben could never fail you. You’d see him soon. The words you've been staring into cameras since you’d been able to. You love him, and you’ll see him soon. 

He won’t understand that you love him, because you’ve only ever thought that part. You’ve stared into countless lenses and thought Ben, I love you and I’ll see you soon while only letting your face say I’ll see you soon. 

When Homelander drops you back into his apartment, that’s what will get you through whatever comes. One step closer. You’ll go home soon. 

You put on your most meek face and soft voice, and start apologizing before Homelander can even say your name. 

“I’m, I’m so sorry, I was just thinking about what they did and I couldn’t stop,” you shake your head and fall backwards onto the couch. “I didn’t mean to, please don’t hate me, I’m so sorry, please-“ 

It’s not Homelander that cuts you off—he looks annoyed but not angry—but Sage, stomping into the apartment.

“What did you just try to fucking pull?” She sneers, stopping above where you’ve curled into yourself. “You think you’re smart? That was insurmountably idiotic, I thought you’d know better than to try and go off script so blatantly.” 

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” you double down. You make yourself look pathetic and scared, try to push yourself into the cushions. “I swear, I just couldn’t stop, I keep thinking about what they did-“ 

Homelander grins, clapping his hands together. “Finally, some fucking progress.” 

“This isn’t progress, you idiot,” Sage snaps. “She’s tricking you.” 

“Look at her, she’s sobbing,” Homelander gestures to you, and it takes all your effort not to flinch. “So she messed up, this is still good. She’s coming around, and now people will know about what a bitch Starlight-“ 

“This is not good. Soldier Boy is a threat now. A real threat to your image, a threat to her,” Sage points at you, and something twists in your upper gut. “Staying where we want her. We both know that not a word of what she said was true-“ 

“I’m sorry-“ 

Homelander silences you with a raised hand. “Don’t apologize to her, she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about. We can deal with Soldier Boy, and he’s got nothing to do with her.” 

“Really,” Sage’s voice is dry and bored. “You’re sure about that.” 

“Of course I am, he’s Butcher’s fucking lapdog right now. They haven’t come to get her back, he’s not going to do it. They don’t care about her, and she’s finally getting that-“ 

Sage says your name, and your blood runs cold. “Would you like to tell him, or should I?” 

It’s all you can do to stutter and shake your head. “I, I don’t know what you’re-“ 

She gives you an annoyed look. “Fine. But I expected better from you.” She turns back to Homelander, and all your fire is gone. Replaced by something feral, that’s trying to make everything else just as afraid and dreadful as it feels. “She and Soldier Boy are fucking.” 

Homelander scoffs. “Please, don’t be fucking insane-“ 

“They are,” Sage’s gaze snaps to you. Looking you up and down. “Or at least she wants to fuck him. But he’s the only real threat to you right now, because he’s probably going to try and get her back.” 

“I, I’m not, I don’t understand-“ 

“Yes, you do. You can’t be trusted right now, not while you’re still Soldier Boy’s pet.” Sage shrugs. “I personally don’t think you’ll be able to pull off that leash, but we’ll see. Now,” she looks back at Homelander, whose face is blank, jaw ticking. “I have to go deal with one of your other mistakes. Find me when you decide what to do with her.” 

Sage leaves, something smug flashing in her eyes. She’d been waiting. This is what she’d been waiting for. Your move, so she could retaliate. 

And now Homelander is speaking your name, slow and cold. “Did you fuck Soldier Boy.” You open your mouth, and he raises a finger, grabbing your jaw and forcing your eyes onto his. “And don’t you dare fucking lie to me again.” 

You didn’t. You never actually fucked Ben. But you don’t think Homelander is going to care about specifics. “Yes.” 

“On purpose.” 

“Yes.” You can’t breathe. All your words are forced out of your body, and the feral thing inside of you is everywhere in your body. Trying to get out. 

“Do you still believe that I hurt you.” 

You’re going to scream, but his grip becomes tighter. “Yes.” 

His eyes flash red. “After all I’ve fucking done for you? You’d turn around and fuck my father?” 

“I didn’t-“ 

“No more fucking lies!” Your jaw might break. “I turn you into a supe, a god, and this is how you repay me?”

“Please-“ 

“I love you,” he pulls you up off the couch, and your hands fly instinctively to grab at his arm. “I fucking love you. I made you. Do you think anyone would want you like this? Weak? A fucking weak, ungrateful, lying bitch?” 

“No-“ 

“Exactly,” Homelander hisses, pulling your face closer. “Nobody else. You’re strong, I made you strong, but don’t forget your place. Mine. You belong to me, just like everything else. You don’t love Soldier Boy, you love me.” 

“I don’t-“ 

“I chose you because you’re nice.” Homelander sneers. “I chose you because you’re sweet. You were so pretty and nice, singing on that sage, and I fell in love with you right there. You’re just pretty, nice, and sweet. I made you a supe because I was tired of women who thought that their words made them worthy of me. Don’t think your fire, that you can’t even control, makes you my equal. You’re more powerful than Soldier Boy, but you’re not more powerful than me. Don’t get caught in the taste of someone weaker, and think that’s what you need.” 

You speak on instinct, the words falling from you before you can stop them. “Ben’s not weak.” 

“Ben?” Homelander face twists in hatred, and you think he’s going to kill you. Or try to, or just lock you up forever again. “Did you just call Soldier Boy Ben?” 

“I, I’m-“ 

“I thought you were getting better.” Homelander drops you back into the couch. “But you’re still too human. Too weak. Too easy for them to manipulate, make you think what those roaches want you to.” His eyes narrow. “We’re going to have to fix that.” 

You don’t hear the call he makes. You can’t hear anything over the blood, pounding in your ears. You want to go home. You should’ve just ran when you could, not taken a brief moment of Homelander’s fear and taken it as a reason to stay. You should’ve just run and gone home and now you can’t. Now you’re never going to go home. You’ll never see Ben again. Never be safe again. 

“Sir, you wanted to see me?” 

You don’t recognize that voice. You can barely focus on it, because the fear in your body hurts. It’s stabbing and snapping everything inside you, and you’re going to shatter into a million pieces. 

Homelander’s guiding someone in front of you. Noir II, the one that talks. The one Homelander didn’t kill.

“Stand right there. Don’t move or I’ll fucking laser your brains out.” He turns back to you. “Kill him.” 

You make a sound from your throat, and Noir II becomes rigid. 

“Uh, sir-“ 

“I said don’t move,” Homelander snaps, still looking at you. “You know who he is?” 

“Yes,” you breathe out. “He’s Black Noir.” 

“You know that he and Ben worked together? He was in on the Russia deal?” 

“I, uh, I’m just playing a role,” Noir II stutters. “I don’t know who Ben is-“ 

Homelander whips around, eyes glowing. “Don’t move.” 

You can hear Noir II’s swallow. “Yes, sir.” 

Homelander says your name. “He wanted to kill Noir for that. Like he’s going to kill you, for betraying him. For staying with me.” 

You can’t breathe again. Ben knows you didn’t betray him, you’d never betray him. He’d never hurt you, you trust him with your whole life to understand that you weren’t still here because you wanted to be. You’d always chose Ben, you love him. 

“So you’re going to kill Noir here,” Homelander steps aside. “And stop these pathetic delusions that Soldier Boy gives a fucking shit about you.” 

“I can’t,” you whisper. “Please, Homelander-“ 

“Yes, you can. Use your fucking fire or something. Kill him now.” 

You shake your head. “I can’t-“ 

“Christ, stop whining and just do it.” Homelander pulls you up again, dragging you across the room. Right in front of Noir. “The sooner you do, the sooner we can all move on.” 

“Please-“ 

“Now.” 

You can’t move. Every single muscle and tendon and blood vessel wants to leave your body. Everything is freezing, trying to spread like mold around you and you can’t breathe. 

“If you don’t do it.” Homelander’s body is pressed against yours, shoving you forwards. “I will. But no matter what, you’re going to stop lying to me, stop trying to trick me, and understand what your role in this is. You’re not Maeve, or Stormfront, or Starlight. You’re not a hero or bitch who’s going to try and control me. I made you for me. Now kill him.” 

You just choke on the air, and Homelander grabs your jaw again. “You can even do that fucking singing. Just kill him.” 

He rips off Noir II’s mask, revealing a young man. He grabs your hand, pushes it onto Noir II’s face, and he’s afraid. You didn’t have to be touching Noir II to know he’s afraid. You can hear his heavy breaths, you can see the way he’s frozen, and you can’t. You can’t kill him, you won’t.

Noir II makes a sound that might be a plea, and your heart falls into your gut. 

“I-“ 

Red flashed through the room, and Noir drops to the ground. Body sliced in two. 

“You were taking too long,” Homelander moves in front of you, pulling off a glove that’s been splattered in blood. “I’ve got things to do. You’re still going to the Believe Expo next week, but you’re going to stop being a little girl and start telling the truth. Understand?” 

You nod, still staring at Noir’s body. 

Homelander sighs. “Don’t think I like being mad at you. But you need to stop trying to be something you’re not. You’re the first woman that hasn’t tried to fucking control me, and that’s one the reasons why I love you.” He turns your head to look at him. “I forgive you for Soldier Boy. You weren’t yourself. But never,” his hand moves lower, sitting against your throat. “Forget your place again.” 

You hate him. You hate him so fucking much, but every part of your body feels far away. The whole world is just pure hatred and fear and it’s everywhere.

Homelander’s face twitches, hand tightening on your neck—your fear feels bigger, it almost makes you collapse—and he pulls his hand back as if you’d burned him. You couldn’t have, because everything is just fear and hatred and making the fire numb, but Homelander is staring at you like he’s seen a demon or a ghost. Then he’s gone. Leaving you alone again, with only a dead body for company. 

You don’t have anywhere to go. You haven’t felt small like this in a while, this useless and pathetic. But you don’t have anywhere to hide, anywhere safe to just fall apart. So you sink to the floor, gripping your arms with nails and cold hands, and scream. For the first time in over a month, you just scream. 

You want to go home. You can’t do this anymore, you just want to go home. You’re crawling up the stairs, away from the body to the bathroom where you can lock the door and break. Alone. Homelander wasn’t afraid of you anymore, he knew you were weak, and this might be your last time alone. 

I’ll come get you. Ben’s voice is everywhere, but still not real. You just want it to be real. 

“You can’t,” you whisper into the air, because it just doesn’t matter anymore. You’d lost everything already, the world is a blur, and there’s no point in trying to keep your sanity. “They’re ready for you. They’ll put you back to sleep.” 

I don’t fucking care. 

“But I do.” 

Sunshine, I will come get you. Say the word and I’ll get you right fucking now. I’ll fucking destroy the tower and you’ll come home. Back to me. 

“You don’t love me, Ben.” It hurts to say, but it’s the truth. Ben cares about you, but he doesn’t love you. Not like you love him.  

Shut the fuck up. Don’t doubt for a fucking second that you’re everything to me. Homelander’s a fucking pussy, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.

“But you don’t love me.” Everything is cold. Everything hurts and Ben doesn’t love you and you’re never going to see him again. Never going to tell him that you love him. You’re shattering, breaking, falling into something monstrous that can’t be put back together. Nothing is good, you’re not safe, and you’re weak. You’re exactly what Homelander says you are, weak. You’re not smarter, or stronger, and you’re never going to feel anything but cold again. 

When Ben’s voice sounds through the air again, it’s louder. Almost like he’s right in your ear. You can almost feel him. You’d recognize him anywhere, in any form, and this feels like him. 

He says your name, there’s something warm and powerful in your chest. I’m waiting, because you told me to and I trust you. But it’s fucking killing me. Whatever you’re fucking doing, it better bring you back. I don’t give a shit about Butcher or Homelander or any of this but you. I’m playing nice because you’ll be home soon. But you better fucking come home. 

I will. You don’t say it aloud, because all of the world suddenly feels far away. The only thing that feels real is Ben’s voice. Deep and warm. 

Fucking swear it. 

Promise. 

Good. The voice is silent for a second. That’s never happened before. I miss you. 

I miss you too.

Something around you sparks and flashes. It reminds you of Ben’s amusement in your body, rough and bright.

Don’t try and correct me, Benjamin.

I wasn’t going to say shit.

Yes, you were. I meant to say ‘too’. Statements that begin with an I are better suited to end with too. 

Smartass. 

I hate you. 

No, you don’t. 

The voice doesn’t remind you that you love him. It always reminds you that you love him. Instead it just keeps going.

If you hated me, you wouldn’t be wearing green all the time.

It’s a signal, Pretty Boy. I wear green so you pay attention. 

I’m not a damn toddler, I don’t need you to flash a color in front of my eyes to pay attention. 

Sure.

Shut the fuck up.

I agreed with you. 

We both know you fucking didn’t.

Sure.

Brat.

Cunt.

Silence again. Then-

For the record, I’m always paying attention to you. You’re fucking impossible to ignore, even when you’re gone. It’s damn inconvenient, I’m starting to look like a goddamn mental patient. And I fucking miss you, more than I’ll ever be able to tell you. 

Something rages inside your chest, something that feels bigger than the whole world and more valuable than oxygen, and then the warmth is gone. But you’re not screaming anymore, and all that’s cold is the floor of the bathroom and the air around you. Your vision clears with your head, you can feel the fire. It’s weak, not nearly enough to tear through Vought and escape, but awake.

You’ll survive this. You’d get through this. You’ll adjust, adapt, and keep moving. You will not break. You trust Ben, and you’ll feed the fire until you can make Homelander afraid again. He needs to be afraid again, to understand that he won’t fix you to what he wants, make you into anything. And when your plan works—in two weeks, two days, twenty-two hours, fifty-six minutes, and seven seconds—you’ll go home, and Ben will hold you. And you’d be safe. Soon, you’d be safe.

End Note:  Big thanks to everyone who’s sticking through the rough so we can get to the happy. You’re all amazing <3

Thank you all for reading, and please leave if a comment if you are so inclined! Every single one is the highlight of my day, from your jokes to your thoughts and feedback!

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk @artemys-ackles, @a-cup-of-nightshade, @bitchykittenconnoisseur

@fghj18 @n-o-p-e-never @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @marisha-3 @stvrniolo

@deansbbyx @s0urw00lf @ciuguapa @ilyaasansaif @whimsicalcherry

@sadpods @ahoytothestorm @silverwingxox

[sleepypanda27]

Vacation

Bucky x reader

Summary: You're on vacation with Bucky, but it's not as relaxing as you wanted it to be.

Words: 822

Warnings: Violence, language, fluff

The team was on a much-needed vacation. It was a beach day, full of relaxing, sunbathing, and swimming. You had bought a swimsuit that you absolutely adored and looked amazing on you, making you feel confident. A big plus was that Bucky loved it too.

While Bucky and Sam went swimming, you went to the nearby outdoor cafe after a cold and refreshing drink. Wanda had stayed to watch after the things.

While you waited for your turn to order, some guy, in whom you had zero interest started flirting with you. Right away, you let him know that you have a boyfriend and are not interested. But he brushed that off, pretending he didn't hear it.

"Can I buy you a drink, pretty lady?" The man said, smugly smiling. You felt like throwing up a little. Especially, when he took a step closer to you.

Meanwhile, Bucky, from afar, saw the guy getting closer and closer to you. He knew you could take care of yourself, but it didn't help the switch going off in his mind.

"Don't do anything stupid," Sam warned when he noticed what had his friend's unbreakable attention.

"I'm not promising anything." He got angrier with every step he took closer to you. When he had almost reached you, he saw you break the guy's hand that he had so confidently placed on your waist just a second ago. For a few seconds, he stopped in his tracks, shocked. He smiled and ran to you.

"Let's get out of here." Bucky guided you away from the scene, while the man screamed in pain, attracting other people's attention. "Nice job, doll, but that was my job. I wanted to do that."

A day later, you took a stroll through the city with Bucky. It was a date, just the two of you. Sightseeing, taking photos, and enjoying the day. Later, you stopped by a beachside restaurant to have dinner.

Bucky went to the bathroom while you stayed by the bar, waiting for a table to become available.

"Well, well, well," You immediately recognized the voice from the previous day. "Look who it is." The man slowly turned around, facing you.

"Oh, God." You rolled your eyes to the back of your head, throwing a glance down the hallway, hoping Bucky would return faster so you could find another place to eat.

"Hey," The man tapped on his friend's shoulder. "Look, it's the chick who broke my arm."

"Her?" His friend pointed at you and started laughing.

"Shut up." He growled, almost pushing him off the chair. "I'm waiting for an apology, it's the least you can do. And maybe after that, I'll let you buy me a drink."

"Why don't you just fuck off?"

"Listen here, you bitch-" He threateningly stood up.

"How the fuck did you just call her?" Bucky growled, suddenly standing beside you. The murderous glare he had made you sure Bucky would destroy this foolish man without leaving a wet spot in the place.

"Are you deaf?" The guy just laughed in his face, not realizing who he was talking to.

Without saying anything else, Bucky swung back and punched him. The man fell on his back, holding his nose and wallowing in pain on the floor, blood dripping down his hands.

"Bucky!" You quickly stepped in front of him, stopping him from doing more damage.

"Don't you fucking dare to call her or anyone else like that!" Bucky threatened while you basically had to push him out of the restaurant.

"What the hell was he thinking? Just going around and - agh! -I should have taught him a lesson and-" Bucky went on and on about what had just happened. You pulled him inside the alleyway, pressing him against a brick wall, and kissed him fiercely. His hands immediately went to your hips, pulling you closer. "What was that for?" He smiled, his thumbs tracing circles on your hips. For a moment, he forgot what he was mad about.

"That was the only way to shut you up." You chuckled, sliding your hands down his defined chest.

"Ah-" He gasped, changing positions and pressing you against the wall. "Are you sure it's not because of me defending your honor?" He arched a brow, tucking a loose hair strand behind your ear.

"Oh, please." You chuckled, "But I'm not gonna lie, it was kinda hot." Wrapping your arms around his waist, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Thanks for saving me, but can we find a place where we could eat? I'm hungry."

"Sure thing, doll." He grinned, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. After a short walk, you found a restaurant with a beautiful view of the sunset.

"What?" You chuckled, seeing how Bucky looked at you. All smiley, cute, and in love, basking in the last warm rays of sunshine today.

"I'm just happy you're mine."

[vivgst]

She hates monotony and loves the new challenge she finds in you, so she won't rest until she gets her way, as always (Part two).

Part one: https://www.tumblr.com/vivgst/738748127248531456/she-hates-monotony-and-loves-the-new-challenge-she

There's gonna be a part three btw (maybe more).

The way you had played with her made her see red although that really hadn't been your intention, because you weren't even interested in her, which for some reason only made her angrier, and she inevitably wanted to make you feel more, it was unfair that you went on with your life as if nothing had happened while she was being consumed by the memories of that night.

So she would see you again, she sent her men to pick you up, calling you was out of question, she would not lose her pride, she would rather lose a hand.

You arrived, wearing a black lace dress, a little more revealing than your previous outfit but you still looked just as spectacular, her men were enthralled, almost drooling all over the place but none of them were stupid enough to even dare to give you a lustful look.

One of them showed you where to go and you followed his order, going up the stairs and walking down the hallway while you judged the mansion and the little you had seen of it. It was a big and incredible place, however you could tell from miles away that it was nothing more than a place of decoration, it lacked warmth.

You were brought out of your thoughts when you reached the door to the room and entered, looking around. She was sitting at a desk and her gaze drifted from her papers to you, she frowned.

“You look worse for wear.” She said with an accusatory tone, it sounded like she was questioning you; you gave her a blank look and shrugged.

“If I disgust you then I can leave and someone else from the club will come.” You said bluntly and she looked at her papers again and when she looked up you didn't like what her eyes had.

The tinge of compassion in her eyes was barely perceptible but you hated it, you weren't there to be comforted or seen with pity, you couldn't feel that way with any client, you couldn't feel. Period.

“I didn't say you disgusted me.” She said and stood up from her chair, approaching you slowly and looking at your face. You only had a small cut on your eyebrow, your neck was the most bruised, full of scratches and red. "¿Quién chingados te hizo esto?" She demanded in a stern tone, you looked into her eyes and debated whether to tell her or not, but she would know anyway.

"Un cliente. Estoy acostumbrada". You said and she looked at you as if you had two heads, she was angry, enraged and it was obvious.

“How the hell do you allow people to treat you like that, chula?” You wanted to speak, but she wouldn't let you. “Dime el nombre de ese hijo de su puta madre.”

"No".

“I'm not asking.” She warned, however you shook your head again, unfazed by her growing anger.

“I won't tell you, it's my problem. I don't want you to interfere in my business, you're still just a client." She scoffed, looking at you in disbelief at your audacity, who the fuck did you think you were to say no to her?

“Don't think that-” You didn't let her finish speaking, you didn't want this, you didn't want another jealous client, you didn't want any more drama.

You also didn't want to feel vulnerable in her gaze or comforted by her anger at what he had done to you.

“I came to have sex, to be used, not to have this conversation.” You said coldly, she clenched her jaw, how could you even talk about yourself that way? She hated hearing you talk that way and act like that beating you got wasn't that big of a deal.

However, she was clearly overstepping your limits and she knew you would tell her to go to hell if you wanted to, you weren't afraid of her.

That was making her angrier, it was no longer fun.

“This time you're not going to do whatever the hell you want, we don't need to remember that I'm the one paying, right?”

If she couldn't get the information she wanted from your own mouth, then she would get on your nerves some other way.

She slid your dress off your body delicately, as if you were made of glass, her fingers brushing against your skin that was incredibly cold. Her hands were warm and ran over your body as if it was easy, as if they knew the route by heart, which again, made you feel vulnerable in her presence.

As your dress fell to the floor, she gently leaned you against the wall, her hands moving over your breasts, grazing the sensitive skin of them. Your gaze was on the floor, you were melting in her hands, but your pride wouldn't let you give in, it never did.

“We can skip the romance and-” Her hand wrapped around your mouth and she gave you a grin as she shook her head, she wasn’t going to let you ruin it, she was going to take what she wanted from you.

"I don't want to". She spoke in a hoarse voice, her hands moving down your entire torso until they got between your legs, torturing you, teasing you.

And suddenly she dropped to her knees, lifting your leg onto her shoulder before burying her face between your thighs. You stifled a gasp and pressed yourself further against the wall when you felt her tongue slide gently through your wet folds, your legs weakened with every movement she made on you and even though you bit your lip to not make any noise it was impossible for you not to grab a fistful of her hair, which made her smirk against your skin.

Nothing was on your mind anymore, you were focused on the feeling of heat that swirled in your belly and how she began to lightly suck on your swollen bud which, inevitably, made you moan.

Well, there was no point in playing hard to get when she was feeling how wet you were, right? So fuck it.

You relaxed noticeably, your body began to give in to the pleasure she was giving you and you wanted more, your hips rocked against her lips and you were loving the feeling of her tongue on your wet cunt.

But you needed more.

So you pulled her towards you, making her stand up to crash your lips against hers, kissing her with a hunger you didn't know you felt for her. Valeria immediately kissed you back, her hands wrapping around your waist to press her body against yours and guided you as best as she could to the bed, making you lie down. She quickly got rid of her clothes and you let her adjust you on the bed until one of your legs was over one of her legs and her other leg was over your opposite one.

Just the light brush of your flesh against hers made you hiss, she gave you a smug smile, she was loving how horny and needy you were.

Soon she began to move her hips softly, slowly, which left you even more breathless and you caught your lower lip between your teeth, you tried to move your hips in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm but she kept you in place.

“But you wanted to save yourself the romance, right?” She asked mockingly and you glared at her.

“Fuck you.” You breathed out and she let out a laugh that ended in a hoarse groan, this was just what Valeria had been imagining for days, having you underneath her writhing and moaning.

Valeria began to move faster, her hips rocking more erratically, less precisely, and you found yourself close to your climax, your thighs tightening as she kept pressing and grinding her lower lips into yours.

And she looked down at you, oh… the way she looked at you while letting out light gasps was enough to make you come, Valeria’s orgasm meeting yours at the sight of your body and you losing yourself.

The two of you stayed there, lying in bed, Valeria's arm casually around your waist and you were falling asleep when you felt her move, she was going to leave, you didn't know where or why but you didn't want her to and you clung to her.

You wanted to say, “stay with me, I don't want to be alone” but you had already given in too much and you felt ashamed. She got the message though and you felt her body relax once again causing you to fall into a deep sleep.

But morning came and with it the realization of what had happened. You had sex, not like the sex you’d have with a client, it was passionate you even came, you enjoyed it.

You wanted to hit yourself, what the hell was that? You couldn't collect your dignity because you had thrown it all away yesterday, what you did do was get out of bed as slowly as you could, you picked up your clothes and dressed stealthily.

You couldn't do this again, you couldn't see her again, so you left without waking her and vowing never to see her again.

[generalmoonpolice]

Paul Lahote x reader (fluff/angst)

Just a random little idea that I had.

I hope you enjoy - if you have any feedback I would love to hear it!

W/C: 1262

I was beyond angry as I glanced at my boyfriend in front of me. Trying my hardest, I willed myself to calm down. Exploding with anger wasn’t going to help anyone. Deciding to be the bigger person I tried to back away from him, trying to keep my wolf at bay. I could only hope that Paul would do the same. As I took steps away from Paul he stepped closer to me, shaking in anger. I could feel the anger radiating off him. 

“You’re friends with the leech lover.” He growled at me. It came across as more of a statement rather than a question. I didn’t respond, knowing that it was best if we talked about it another time. When we weren’t so worked up.

“We can talk about this another time.” I hissed at him, gritting my teeth together. My response seemed to make him angrier.

Without warning he pushed me up against the wall.

I heard Jared and Leah yell at him, but he didn’t seem to pay attention to them. Without realising what I was doing, my hand moved up and slapped him across the face. The room went silent, the only sound was our heavy breathing as I took a step forward. Tilting my head up my eyes bore into Paul’s. His brown eyes were full of fury but one thing I didn’t expect to see was fear. My eyes widened as I realised what was about to happen before he exploded into his grey wolf, his claws digging into me making me fall back.

I didn’t feel the pain at first, though I heard a scream that sounded much like mine. The pain hit all at once and I saw the grey wolf above me before everything turned dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pain was the only thing I felt. It radiated throughout my body and left a bitter taste in my mouth. I could hear breathing to my left and the continuous beeping of machines. My chest felt heavy as a groan escaped me. I tried to peel my eyes open to make sense of what was happening. When my eyes finally cooperated with me, a clean white ceiling was the first thing that I saw. 

A hospital.

Internally I knew where I was - the overly sterile smell, the incessant beeping of the heart monitor and the bright white walls only confirmed this. I just couldn’t piece together why. My eyes travelled further around the room where I was met with Emily sitting in the chair next to me looking at me anxiously with Sam standing behind her, the same look etched onto his face. When my eyes met Emily’s, she grabbed my left hand in hers. I looked at her hand in confusion when I saw the bandages on my chest. 

Suddenly everything came flooding back. Paul. The heaviness in my chest grew and I could feel my breathing pick up. Everything seemed too loud, too much. There seemed to be a ringing sound that reverberated across the room. Sam stepped forward seeing my panic and Emily’s hand tightened around my own. 

“Calm down. You’re okay. You’re safe. Paul is safe.” His words grounded me slightly, the ringing sound stopping as tears started to stream down my face. 

“Is he okay?” I asked. My throat ached as I said the words. Sam gave me a curt nod as the door opened. Half of me wished that it was Paul. The other half was too afraid for it to be Paul. I wasn’t afraid of him. I didn’t want him to be angry at me. 

However it wasn’t Paul that walked through the door, but Carlisle. His golden eyes met mine as his brow furrowed. 

“You healed rather quickly.” He muttered to himself.

“Wolf healing doc.” I attempted to joke. The sound of my own voice made me cringe as did the pain that came with the words. Carlisle gave me a small smile before his eyes flickered down to the board in his hands.

“He got you on your chest, neck and chin. You’re going to be on bedrest for at least 2 weeks - wolf or not. Definitely no exercise, no phasing and certainly no shouting.” My jaw clenched at his words, but I nodded nonetheless. Carlisle continued to tell me about an ointment I had to apply before he showed me how to re-bandage the wounds.

With a small “thank you” he left the room, leaving me with Sam and Emily once again. 

“Is he okay?” I asked the pair. Needing to know that he hadn’t and wasn’t doing anything stupid. Emily gave me a gentle smile. 

“He’s beating himself up, but he’s okay. You should get some sleep.” She said to me. I nodded and settled back into my bed before closing my eyes. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next time I woke up, Paul was in the chair next to my bed. His red-rimmed eyes met mine before more tears fell from his brown eyes.

I stretched out my hand towards Paul wanting him to grab it. When he did, I intertwined our fingers and took one of his larger hands in mine before tracing the lines on his palms smiling to myself. Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel Paul’s eyes burning holes into me. After a few moments I finally looked at him. 

“I’m sorry.” I whispered to him, my voice raspy and soft. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I need you to promise me something.” 

I glanced up at him, peering through my lashes to see his gaze intensely on my face. His eyes left mine to trail along the scratches that now sat on my chin and neck before meeting mine again. He gave me a hesitant nod as if he was afraid of what I was about to say.

“If you ever feel like you need to cool off then you just go. Don’t even think about it. You don’t have to tell me why or for how long. Okay?”

Once again he said nothing and only nodded. I grinned at him before bringing his hand up to my lips to press kiss on his palm. At this, he practically flew out of his seat before he pressed a firm kiss to my head. I tried to look up at him, but he buried his face in my hair and broke down into sobs. The sound brought tears to my own eyes as I rubbed his arm trying to offer him some form of comfort. He pulled back from his embrace and our brown eyes met.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do it and you were telling me to go cool off and I just wouldn’t. When I saw you on the ground there was so much blood and all I could think about was how you were dead and it was all my fault.” He stopped. Taking in another breath he said, “And the last time we ever talked was a fight.” I squeezed his hand tighter as more tears dripped down his face.

“You could never kill me,” I told him sternly, shaking my head. “You wouldn’t ever go that far.” I looked into his brown eyes, my heart clenching painfully. I could practically feel the pain and regret seeping from him. 

Moving forward I pressed my lips to his softly, pulling back quickly. The corners of his lips twitched upwards and he connected our lips again. 

“I love you.” He whispered to me. I didn’t respond, but connected our lips once more.